tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-88310048532371069952024-03-05T19:15:04.745+09:00is this Kat DixonKathttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13911742245743775772noreply@blogger.comBlogger151125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8831004853237106995.post-23196283616044557812023-02-22T02:00:00.036+09:002023-02-22T02:00:00.150+09:00On Linguistic Communality<p><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Language</span></i>¹<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">
is a system that is inseparable from those who use it, from those who live
within it, from those who are biologically chained to the communicatory organs.
The body of language is, in practice, the language of the body. So far as there
are desiring multiples there is and shall be language to fulfill the transactions
between them. Traditionally, language has been dissected into its atomic
particles, its guttural foundations and the finer nuances of its phonemic
differentiations, in order to form a more perfect understanding of its evolutionary
form and function and the processes by which an individual becomes assimilated
by and into language. There has followed a systematic inversion – how an
individual constructs language and how language constructs an individual – and
an increasing emphasis on the varying factors that produce and manipulate the
existing, functioning languages of global communities. Hopefully without
risking irreparable entanglement with too many of the facets of today’s ongoing
discussion on the nature and purpose of semiotics in contemporary society, an
investigation into the manner and potency of specific linguistic media shall be
launched herein with the desire to provide further clarification to the ever-expanding
social linguistic consciousness within a given contemporary reality.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>For
the purpose of this exploration, it shall first be assumed that discourse is
the primary method by which language is introduced to and developed within a
communal consciousness. Still, the act of signification, the process by which
specific words in a given discourse are categorically assigned meaning, happens
not by committing, as one does, a discourse but rather by <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">desiring</i> the effects produced by said discourse:<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"></span></span></p><blockquote><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>This should not be very surprising,
for psychoanalysis has already shown us that speech is not merely the medium which manifests – or dissembles – desire;
it is also the object of desire. <span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Similarly, historians have constantly impressed
upon us that speech is no mere verbalisation
of conflicts and systems of domination, but that it is the very object of man's conflicts. (Foucault para. 2)</span></blockquote><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><o:p></o:p></span><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">Michel
Foucault, of course, posits that discourse itself is an unconscious desire
common to all individuals who exist within language, but it remains to be seen
that discourse, though perhaps fulfilling some desire for and of itself, is, on
a pragmatic level, most often a means of procuring some end not intrinsic
within that discourse alone. However, the notion of <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">conflict</i> raised here presents an interesting duality between speech
<i>as</i> conflict and speech <i>for</i> conflict, an idea that shall be returned
to shortly. It shall also be assumed, at least within the walls of this
investigation, that the traditional units of speech, be it signifier or
signifed, contain no universal value or value structure:<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;"></p><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;"></span><blockquote style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;"> </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">At all events, one thing at least must be emphasised here: that the
analysis of discourse </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;"> </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">thus understood,
does not reveal the universality of a meaning, but brings to light the </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">action of imposed rarity, with a
fundamental power of affirmation. Rarity and </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;"> </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">affirmation;
rarity, in the last resort of affirmation -- certainly not any continuous </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;"> </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">outpouring of meaning, and certainly not any
monarchy of the signifier.</span> <span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">(Foucault para. </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">17)</span></blockquote><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;"></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;"><br /></span></div><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">
It is important to establish this assertion – that no intrinsic meaning or
value is present within speech prior to the act of speaking, which, in terms of
the development of a discourse, will also include the act of writing and all
thought processes that take place within language – as a premise for future
linguistic wanderings in order to avoid any symptomatic prescription of
universality upon an unsuspecting arrangement of aural sound bites or their
visually represented counterparts. Thus, the arbitrariness of the conjoined
elements of a linguistic sign goes uncontested, as in the convention
established by Saussure:</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; text-align: center;"> </span><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"></span></p><blockquote style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><blockquote style="text-align: center;">The link between signal [or
signifier] and signification [or signified] is arbitrary. Since we are treating a sign as the combination in
which a signal is associated with a signification,
we can express this more simply as: <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">the
linguistic sign is arbitrary…</i> There is
not internal connexion [sic], for example, between the idea ‘sister’ and the
French<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>sequence of sounds <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">s-ö-r</i> which acts as its signal.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The same idea might as well be represented by any other sequence of
sounds. (67-8)</blockquote></span></blockquote><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><o:p></o:p></span><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;"></p><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">The
term </span><i style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">arbitrary</i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">, of course, may not be
applied without further qualification:</span></div><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"> </span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"></span><blockquote><span style="font-size: 12pt;">It must not be taken to imply
that a signal depends on the free choice of the speaker.</span><span style="font-size: 12pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 12pt;">(We </span><span style="font-size: 12pt;">shall
see later that the individual has no power to alter a sign in any respect once
it has </span><span style="font-size: 12pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 12pt;">become established in a linguistic
community.)</span><span style="font-size: 12pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 12pt;">The term implies simply that
the signal is</span><span style="font-size: 12pt;"> </span><i style="font-size: 12pt;">unmotivated</i><span style="font-size: 12pt;">: that is to say arbitrary in relation to its
signification, with which it has no</span><span style="font-size: 12pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 12pt;">natural
connexion in reality. (Saussure 68-9)</span></blockquote><span style="font-size: 12pt;"></span></div>
<o:p></o:p></span><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">Thus,
it may be stated with some certainty that the linguistic sign is arbitrary in
terms of the relation of its elements. As for the arbitrary nature of the <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">process</i> of signification, one may not so
readily condemn it to the assignation of arbitrariness and actuality.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Do allow now for a regression that
will reestablish the foundations of semiotic knowledge given these glimpses of
signification and discourse. Since the early 1970s, the semiotic tradition has
favored Ferdinand de Saussure’s model of the linguistic sign represented by the
diagram <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpGXLtXqTo4WLVFp0CDWjsRH3mWIyXQ_roP9YuF3Px3rsVvF0ejlpASLVTL2c1DqpVqkwe-vezcpJZOux5Gvz44QZx6iz5KpsyB6zGhd9wofQximkHn_EdyLt0Dsizu4D3Hies7KK5SfcHYLetNE-Lrxo6UQBayR9aK7uFr3YBp2gUMGRs9gb95IVUGQ/s277/image%201.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="170" data-original-width="277" height="170" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpGXLtXqTo4WLVFp0CDWjsRH3mWIyXQ_roP9YuF3Px3rsVvF0ejlpASLVTL2c1DqpVqkwe-vezcpJZOux5Gvz44QZx6iz5KpsyB6zGhd9wofQximkHn_EdyLt0Dsizu4D3Hies7KK5SfcHYLetNE-Lrxo6UQBayR9aK7uFr3YBp2gUMGRs9gb95IVUGQ/s1600/image%201.jpg" width="277" /></a></div><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">in
which any given signified, or concept, is vocally represented by any given
signifier, or sound pattern, in order that together they may form a “two-sided
psychological entity” in which “two elements are intimately linked and each
triggers the other” (68-9). This intimate linkage and mutual triggering is
represented in the diagram as two arrows suggesting a virtual flow from concept
to sound pattern and back again, though the two are ostensibly barred from one
another by an imposing divisional line. This line stands in as the virtual
invariability of the sign’s signifier, or signal:<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"></span></p><blockquote style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"> The signal, in relation to the idea
it represents, may seem to be freely chosen. However, from the point of view of the linguistic community, the signal is
imposed rather than freely
chosen. Speakers are not consulted about its choice. Once the language has selected a signal, it cannot be freely
replaced by any other…. What can be chosen is already
determined in advance…. The community, as much as the individual, is bound to its language. (Saussure 71)</span></blockquote><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><o:p></o:p></span><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">Thus,
the sign receives a sense of fixity, specifically in terms of its sound
pattern. This is based wholly on the tradition of a language – that a language
always consists of words that have been previously formed and adhered to over
generations and are established to the degree that they cannot be altered. The
origin, what first determined this arbitrary pairing of signifier and
signified, of this or any language shall be ignored as it is irrelevant to any
present linguistic search. Rather Saussure poses this signal fixation as a way
of explaining why the linguistic sign “is immune from arbitrary alteration”
(72). The actuality of the situation is, however, that any given language is
always changing. To account for this, Saussure also attributes an aspect of
variability to complement the invariability of a sign:<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"> The passage of time, which ensures
the continuity of a language, also has another effect, which appears to work in the opposite direction. It allows
linguistic signs to be changed with some
rapidity. Hence variability and invariability are both, in a certain sense, characteristic of the linguistic sign.
(74)<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">The
questions remain: just what are the factors that contribute to the evolution of
a language, and what are the forces that drive that evolution? Saussure
accounts for this dilemma with the construction of the diagram –<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2WmKJf4n6gK41fG_vyCCMGH0cyi7xj_GNBpp6OC9OlwU74H6qVEJG9KzX8XxqVubw8j8cBaSsNPNhwgLUtCwMda4lPnorHu-xWEhiYxK2UwPaR1-x3z4kCpv-_cZ3UuOwgrtLH5c4ag0t5wvGLHg7HyE0pQS8o7lPdvauh9NEUf5Ut5QqdL1tqqZ_7w/s332/image%202.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="223" data-original-width="332" height="259" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2WmKJf4n6gK41fG_vyCCMGH0cyi7xj_GNBpp6OC9OlwU74H6qVEJG9KzX8XxqVubw8j8cBaSsNPNhwgLUtCwMda4lPnorHu-xWEhiYxK2UwPaR1-x3z4kCpv-_cZ3UuOwgrtLH5c4ag0t5wvGLHg7HyE0pQS8o7lPdvauh9NEUf5Ut5QqdL1tqqZ_7w/w386-h259/image%202.jpg" width="386" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">–
which illustrates the idea that “language is no longer free from constraints,
because the passage of time allows social forces to be brought to bear upon it”
(78). Though time and the linguistic community are necessary for the
explanation of the phenomenon of the invariable-variable nature of the
linguistic sign, this particular diagram is highly problematic. Though there is
a visible connection between the linguistic community and the language it
employs, there is a deceiving separateness about them. Little responsibility is
attributed to the linguistic community for the language that it has created and
recreates through every communal act. In relation to the downward rushing
arrows associated with the movement of time, the language’s positioning <i>over</i> the linguistic community leads a
viewer to naturally suppose that a language, by means of whatever factors that
single vertical line may represent, is responsible for the holding together of
– or boxing in, in this case – the linguistic community. Additionally, time is
represented as a linear mechanism that extends one-dimensionally, presumably
from the past to the present and beyond, from the realm of language into that
of the linguistic community. It is loosely conjoined with the language and the
linguistic community by way of the line that connects the two, implying that
time is a contributing factor in language, the linguistic community, and
whatever it may be that unites the two. Like the linguistic community, time is
not portrayed as a contributing factor to the language, as one responsible for
the creation or recreation of a language might be, but is, instead, merely
associated with it.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">
</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"> If, then, Foucault’s notion of
discourse is reintroduced, it would perhaps stand in place of the line
connecting language and the linguistic community, like so:<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMBmF9rVtHUB7rktgU5Q-xDVW9kLhonYwr6QL0jHdgiAtHxTMlRHEY8z27pw8jwOBpMLgFlJS1YSfo362FYqPhcywBcxv7ApAVGCEeCAvLjb3V553ruPFrLcen1QtNUIkDuq1Id6Kw01B5zYWh33TRmWPNCSstjAwGcrGVFp5gmYL8HY3KgeGz6kboUg/s309/image%203.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="219" data-original-width="309" height="264" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMBmF9rVtHUB7rktgU5Q-xDVW9kLhonYwr6QL0jHdgiAtHxTMlRHEY8z27pw8jwOBpMLgFlJS1YSfo362FYqPhcywBcxv7ApAVGCEeCAvLjb3V553ruPFrLcen1QtNUIkDuq1Id6Kw01B5zYWh33TRmWPNCSstjAwGcrGVFp5gmYL8HY3KgeGz6kboUg/w372-h264/image%203.jpg" width="372" /></a></div><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">This
now suggests that discourse is responsible for linking a language and its
linguistic community, in relation to time. Still, the problem remains that a
linguistic community cannot be separated from its language, even by the
discourse through which it achieves that language. This diagram ignores the
communal consciousness that <i>is</i>, at
once, language <i>and</i> the linguistic
community. It also fails to recognize the desires, for transactions achieved
through discourse and perhaps for discourse itself, of the communal consciousness
that inspire the discourse that continually recreates the communal
consciousness through language.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"> These problem areas shall seek
reconciliation in another way – one that shall attempt to encompass both
Saussure’s model of signification and that of language in relation to time and
the linguistic community. It shall be proposed, for the moment at least, that
the act of signification and the act of committing a discourse are equivalent.
This new model shall be presented, for the most part, linearly –<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYlzt89wBP0nM03OWCU0-reeKudLgCulpCnDSM-OytqiQ7_JUNoPkTo2rHB-tjo0QRsaLVimb4aXDOLTjxpTUM1uilE6_k-mF0MyXOC_nkljXyZtFYo3W6J6GnRWPO8Lc8PkgXdvw05jfDpfOTTGqOTiTB4TC_-B4o5k_R9tpfXOyc32ZT9Ft_7pOnxw/s402/image%204.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="208" data-original-width="402" height="242" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYlzt89wBP0nM03OWCU0-reeKudLgCulpCnDSM-OytqiQ7_JUNoPkTo2rHB-tjo0QRsaLVimb4aXDOLTjxpTUM1uilE6_k-mF0MyXOC_nkljXyZtFYo3W6J6GnRWPO8Lc8PkgXdvw05jfDpfOTTGqOTiTB4TC_-B4o5k_R9tpfXOyc32ZT9Ft_7pOnxw/w466-h242/image%204.jpg" width="466" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"></span><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">–
to stall the risk of providing any one element with visual precedence over the
others. Here, the process of signification is mediated by a <i>communal signifying body</i>, which
substantively replaces the linguistic community component of Saussure’s model.
This signifying body, however, as a communal element, includes both the
linguistic community and its discourse – thus its desire for and through
discourse. It creates and sustains language through the regulation of the
relation between signifier and signified. There is no first-cause element in
this model; signifier and signified could easily replace one another –</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqTe9IBPubtimzCB4Itg24yeLUjl42CF6wMpCeP7n1l8jkxqcQ_7FiHPU2z_i4lhfTaJxcg0SRq_8GRQwQLAdS_yh4wciPoKPLJTwp9B8OnRWM4JVsKRKB6amwIymE7yEK0W4jcSLSrFlp7oNGY-OOPDPeavR1iQQL9JF3JMRrAFXRyuVz5GGqgBvKhw/s402/image%205.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="73" data-original-width="402" height="82" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqTe9IBPubtimzCB4Itg24yeLUjl42CF6wMpCeP7n1l8jkxqcQ_7FiHPU2z_i4lhfTaJxcg0SRq_8GRQwQLAdS_yh4wciPoKPLJTwp9B8OnRWM4JVsKRKB6amwIymE7yEK0W4jcSLSrFlp7oNGY-OOPDPeavR1iQQL9JF3JMRrAFXRyuVz5GGqgBvKhw/w452-h82/image%205.jpg" width="452" /></a></div><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">–
without damaging the model, so far as the communal signifying body remains
centered between the two in order to serve as a proper mediator. Thus, the
relation between the signifying body and its sign elements takes on a
conductive sort of transitive property in which the signifying body acts as
conductor for the transitive signal and signification.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"> The double vertical lines stand in
as a more muted version of the time element that is so visibly emphasized in
Saussure’s model. Though the lines seemingly bar the communal signifying body
from its adjoining signifier and signified, they are instead meant to pen all
three elements within their <i>contemporary
reality</i>, which, though capable of extending into the past or future, is, at
any given moment, stagnated. Just as a single day may run continuously as a
trace of the sun over various locations on the earth yet the measurement of
that day is limited to twenty-four hours, so a community’s contemporary reality
may stretch and fill the entirety of that community’s consciousness yet remains
confined to the state of its linguistic existence, which too may stretch to
encompass any language shifts while still maintaining its apparent fixity.
Existence within a given contemporary reality allows the communal signifying
body to establish and maintain the significance applied to language through the
act of signification, or, for now, the act of discourse. This signification may
rely on or draw its standardized signification process from a previous reality,
but as long as a contemporary reality extends to subsume the communal
consciousness, all previous realities remain unacknowledged and therefore
linguistically unimportant. This is not to say that historical language shifts
are unimportant; rather the history of a language is present within its
contemporary reality, which may span the living consciousness of every
individual within that language over the course of its history or may, instead,
be restricted to a particularized linguistic shift. Time is thus an important
factor in the recreation of language, though not as a one-dimensional driving
force uniting language and its linguistic community, as Saussure suggests, but
as a boundary that maintains language within a given socio-historic-linguistic
context. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"> Had Foucault made use of this model,
his visual representation of the communal signifying body would have, no doubt,
been much larger than it is here represented and perhaps would contain many
subsets in order to incorporate his discoursive emphasis on the forces of
linguistic exclusions, prohibitions, and oppositions. This model has no
intention of discrediting or undermining these forces or their influence on the
nature and availability of discourse. The signifying body, as a communal – and
thereby communicating – entity, seeks to incorporate all of the means by which
signification and discourse are achieved within a given contemporary reality.
To do so, the communal signifying body takes hold of a language’s communality
or sociality – that which is at the root of the linguistic community and the
slow, spiraling process of signification within that community. This introduces
a new series of questions concerning the methods by which communality is
achieved and implemented into the communal consciousness and the social forces
responsible for this implementation.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"> It shall first be assumed that a
communal consciousness exists so far as language does. Any individual existing
within a given language inevitably exists within the corresponding communal
consciousness in so far that language extends along its inhabited plain and
touches every boundary of that consciousness. This communal consciousness is
not restricted by national or geographic boundaries, nor is it entirely limited
by dialectal influence, though dialect may color a linguistic consciousness in
a way that is narrowing or widening, depending on that dialect’s relation to
other dialects and other languages. Along the same thread, an individual’s
consciousness, within his communal consciousness, is restricted to the extent
of his grasp of the language in which he exists. Thus, his knowledge of a
language’s unique vocabulary, grammatical formulations, and diverse syntactical
structures, among other linguistic elements, is responsible for the fullness of
the development of a personal consciousness and also his acceptance of and
into, as well as the ease with which he may access the benefits of, the
communal consciousness. An individual may also exist within multiple communal
consciousnesses, given access to a multiplicity of languages. One communal
consciousness – or, if it is preferred, one language – is not an
interchangeable equivalent for another, though any two will undoubtedly share
similar characteristics. For example, both the English and Spanish languages
contain verb forms indicating blame. The Spanish language, however, affords its
linguistic community a unique verb form that shifts blame from subject to
object, a concept that is not applicable to the syntactically rigid English
grammatical structures. Thus, individuals existing within the communal
consciousness of the Spanish language have a wider perspective on the nature of
blame or fault than those existing within the communal consciousness of the
English language. This plainly illustrates the fact that existence within the
realm of multiple communal consciousnesses – multiple languages – will
naturally result in a widening of an individual’s singular consciousness.
Specifically bilingual or multilingual societies, too, share a single communal
consciousness that itself consists of a variety of sub-communal consciousnesses
that correspond to each unique language but work together to expand overall
consciousness. The benefit, then, of multilingualism cannot be stressed enough
for the overarching health of the consciousness</span>²<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"> It shall next be assumed that
communality is an essential structural component of the communal signifying
body. At first glance, this statement seems too self-contained or redundant. It
seems only natural that what is communal should and must contain at least some
aspect of communality in order to be classified as such. It must be remembered,
however, that in order to remain communal, a language must constantly reproduce
itself through discourse. <i>Communality</i>,
in this sense, shall be used to discuss the linguistic necessity of continuous
reproduction through discourse in order to maintain the health of a language
and, thereby, the health of that language’s constituent community and communal
consciousness. It is this always present need for reproduction through
discourse that inspires the communality of a linguistic community. Without a
communal body of communicating multiples, language ceases to exist. Without the
regulatory process of signification through discourse, language ceases to exist.
Language thus exhibits a stringent desire for communality. As the signifier and
signified are, as was previously established, arbitrary in their relation to
one another and therefore arbitrary in their relation to language except
through the mediating process of the communal signifying body, language must
achieve its communality through that communal signifying body. Hence the
realization of communality is established as the first and most important goal
of the signifying body.<br />
To compensate for the gap
between the rate at which discourse is produced in order to satisfy other desires
– e.g., the infant who learns to speak as a means to more efficiently procure
food, drink, or any other desire he experiences and cannot communicate as
efficiently through tears – and the necessary communality required to propagate
a language, Foucault introduces discourse as a desire in and of itself. This
appears to be the easiest solution to what could potentially be a significant
problem for the continuation of global languages. If communicating individuals
no longer desire to the extent that they must constantly express desires
through language, would language remain as a necessary or useful fixture within
that community? If discourse is a desire in and of itself, then naturally
language would persist unhindered. If English is taken as a test subject, one
may examine whether this idea of discourse for discourse’s sake exists in
practice. If one takes into account the principle of least effort that has been
a prominent force of change in the English language, one cannot help but notice
that, on the whole, the community of English speakers tend to be “‘sloppy’ and
simplify their speech in various ways” rather than intently preserving their
language through unremitting reproduction via a desired discourse (Millward
11). This principle of least effort is responsible for the clipping or
shortening of words and phrases that require unnecessary effort to write or
vocalize – e.g.,<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8f7teWqEdaQ05RlNE-CntdaSWtaIgUGxXguaL3wHYhtKCiLRtgVitfefHzP8ABL01J9MxSvHnZiVRRgePj8MlyeBeDrWUNFlrTZxzdLcmypLw9nCYW_YXeKNfwlxy7J0CgA8gzMFTLMOGd4yoLLnZmyutXnlxWscOClXohA3acmC-xFkA2QXaWvY2Gw/s352/image%206.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="96" data-original-width="352" height="107" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8f7teWqEdaQ05RlNE-CntdaSWtaIgUGxXguaL3wHYhtKCiLRtgVitfefHzP8ABL01J9MxSvHnZiVRRgePj8MlyeBeDrWUNFlrTZxzdLcmypLw9nCYW_YXeKNfwlxy7J0CgA8gzMFTLMOGd4yoLLnZmyutXnlxWscOClXohA3acmC-xFkA2QXaWvY2Gw/w394-h107/image%206.jpg" width="394" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">–
and is responsible for the prevalent usage of acronyms, initialisms, and the
sweeping abundance of the schwa vowel /ə/. While this phenomenon does not
necessarily directly attest to the fact that discourse is not a desire shared
by communicating individuals, it does imply that ease of communication is
valued over communication itself.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"> Therefore, it shall now be assumed
that discourse is not undertaken out of a desire for discourse alone.
Naturally, there shall be exceptions to this assumption, but it is relatively
safe to say that the communal body on the whole is more interested in
communicating other desires through language with ease and efficiency rather
than participating in language for the sake of fulfilling a desire for
language. How then is the general population persuaded to commit discourse upon
discourse so that the language spoken in these discourses may be propagated
again and again and thus assured its long-term existence? What elements within
a community are responsible for that community’s linguistic communality?<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">
</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"> Here again it is necessary to return
to the model previously established in order to further delve into these
questions:<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXjI3k_kf9r71FOxWI9b2m8Dw_NjlGXf6wGljx9xinwvmIxWt4iG_nETqTvG4l13FYRsaETXTdRn9-PwAx_aVoE594xIywA8zbVNsPDVqccLWFUL8Bh85XZ-qyZcdIY3RJ_bGvAWQRamnQLmGDkKwLM3p-LwucMhDVkmHrM5-KpjwvWjo9B6rLHvmpHQ/s406/image%207.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="204" data-original-width="406" height="198" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXjI3k_kf9r71FOxWI9b2m8Dw_NjlGXf6wGljx9xinwvmIxWt4iG_nETqTvG4l13FYRsaETXTdRn9-PwAx_aVoE594xIywA8zbVNsPDVqccLWFUL8Bh85XZ-qyZcdIY3RJ_bGvAWQRamnQLmGDkKwLM3p-LwucMhDVkmHrM5-KpjwvWjo9B6rLHvmpHQ/w393-h198/image%207.jpg" width="393" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; text-align: left;">Again, it can be seen here that the communal signifying body forms the
centerfold of the process by which language is produced. It serves as an
effectual mediator between signifier and signified, providing and regulating
the process of signification that assigns meaning to the words that construct
its language. The communal signifying body has been previously explained as the
whole of the linguistic community and its discourse, a fact that shall remain
unchanged for the time being. However, as it has been previously shown that the
linguistic community may not be capable of producing enough discourse to
sustain the semiotic exchange between signified and signifier – and thus all of
language – on its own, there must also exist a sort of social catalyst
responsible for spurring conduction between the linear elements of the model:</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCiG00pfJtQXdnLieiwVLqECkc-EPVUL2mRbgoP70pKOEZamsieiC9x_QZR72i3Y2brhnaRPEy_J56ImgFD33K9zzvbUOLm0CCbFdj03NJzxtxjizYbzQevBkspaLBEWrysax54RUxJk9x0qjqJPYnWPOpakyJedb52jMPM_davAwoaOobd3tg394KNg/s434/image%208.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="266" data-original-width="434" height="245" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCiG00pfJtQXdnLieiwVLqECkc-EPVUL2mRbgoP70pKOEZamsieiC9x_QZR72i3Y2brhnaRPEy_J56ImgFD33K9zzvbUOLm0CCbFdj03NJzxtxjizYbzQevBkspaLBEWrysax54RUxJk9x0qjqJPYnWPOpakyJedb52jMPM_davAwoaOobd3tg394KNg/w400-h245/image%208.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">Thus,
a third-party catalyst is diagrammatically introduced. This catalyst acts
directly upon the communal signifying body as the linguistic community, aside
from its actual discourse, is the only element – and, conveniently, the
centermost element – that may actively contribute to the flow of signification
between signifier and signified. Hence it stimulates the linguistic community
into the creation of discourse and, therefore, signification.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"> Though in this model the catalyst
appears distinct from the communal signifying body, it is in actuality only a
subdivision of that body. Any collective force capable of influencing a
community of individuals almost inevitably consists of individuals from within
that community. It is in this way that influence is most effectively achieved.
The catalyst acts independently of the linguistic community so that it may
convince the linguistic community that discourse is necessary and cause the
influx of signification that reproduces and sustains the language of their
shared community, but the catalyst is equally able to be reabsorbed into the
linguistic community so that discourse amongst the individuals of that
community happens virtually in and for itself rather than as a consequence of
an outside stimulus.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;">
</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"> Who then makes up this subunit of
the linguistic community that is so aptly manufactured to influence that
linguistic community and then be reabsorbed into it? The identity of this
mysterious subgroup is not so mysterious after all. In fact, it is one of the
most visible and active communal subgroups in the present contemporary reality.
In the profession of mediation, it is only logical that all forms of social <i>media</i> should be called upon as the major
influencing force upon the linguistic community and its discourse. Hence the
generic catalyst of the previous diagram is replaced by the sociality of any
given medium:<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjun7dUv9ycS8O4zUEnXDEYwAb0798u4-Uxlfqm3onvCR4qTYPpe_gV5VPZVvkDqD3mxTKx8F2IaNUbUWGCQN6fLAYakiJGEcVtO_sibEzYMWetcKVZyUbq_zxYM3R982iK7uwtVDLzcXcX0xvcak84wx1Oa2JHPtZeaLZZoA90ysO27BtAmK8b8eIE4w/s478/image%209.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="283" data-original-width="478" height="261" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjun7dUv9ycS8O4zUEnXDEYwAb0798u4-Uxlfqm3onvCR4qTYPpe_gV5VPZVvkDqD3mxTKx8F2IaNUbUWGCQN6fLAYakiJGEcVtO_sibEzYMWetcKVZyUbq_zxYM3R982iK7uwtVDLzcXcX0xvcak84wx1Oa2JHPtZeaLZZoA90ysO27BtAmK8b8eIE4w/w442-h261/image%209.jpg" width="442" /></a></div><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">While
it is foreseeable that these social media may take on any form, to be
determined by the needs and desires of the communal consciousness and its
contemporary reality, three shall be identified and focused on herein: <i>news</i>, <i>gossip</i>, and <i>art</i>. Because
these particular forms of social mediation are active participants in the
creation of discourse across and between many communal consciousnesses
worldwide, they provide the most generic and applicable example of the discoursive
effects of social media on the process of signification performed by the
communal signifying body.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"> <i>News</i>,
it can be said, is the most present source of information. It is most often
conveyed through the forum of what is typically thought of as <i>the media</i> – newspapers, newsletters,
television, online news sources, and, if the process successfully reaches its
desired destination, word of mouth. News is distinguishable from <i>gossip</i> in that its subject matter is
most often of a socio-political nature and most often involves the
relationships between multiple people – which impact a substantial population
within a community – or peoples, particularly between multiple communal
consciousnesses or substantial subsets of one consciousness. News draws its
main source of discourse-inspiring energy from its intense presence. Good news,
whether it be good or not, is always on the verge of fuller development. It
feeds on the latest, newest, and most urgent information and channels that
energy of the now into its unique power to stimulate aural reproduction amongst
news recipients. In the past ten years alone, Time Magazine has published the
word <i>news</i> in relation to the word <i>breaking</i> 1.44 times per million (<i>Time Magazine Corpus</i>). More
interestingly, the phrase <i>breaking news</i>
is used much more often in spoken language than in fiction, magazines,
newspapers, or academic settings – many times more often</span>³<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">,
in fact (<i><span style="color: #060014;">Corpus of Contemporary American English</span></i>). Clearly, news is a form of social media
capable of sufficiently translating itself into the actively discoursing
linguistic body, especially in terms of the sense of urgency that it draws
upon.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"> <i>Gossip</i>
runs along the same vein as news but is usually more concerned with
interpersonal relationships within a singular linguistic body than the
socio-political concerns of that community or inter-communal relations with
outside communities. Gossip is, perhaps, the form of social media that most
draws upon the idea of <i>acceptability</i>
within a community, constantly reformulating the line between the decent and
the outrageous. Hence discourse ignited by gossip is inspired at once by the
imposition of the social moral authority and by the breaking and reformation of
the communal consciousness’s standards of acceptability. What is taboo is most
likely to inspire a plentitude of discourse, and from this principle, gossip
derives its source of discoursive power.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"> <i>Art</i>,
too, garners its social precedence from the boundaries of acceptability,
challenging previous paradigms not as a way of inciting vocal rebuke, as gossip
does, but as a device for the expansion of discourse into new and more diverse
realms. Art is ever at the pinnacle of expansion, incorporating the traditional
forums of visual art, literature, and theatre while simultaneously threatening
to swallow up any and all manners of social expression under its namesake. In
this way, art inspires discourse in that it defies the boundaries of discourse;
its abstracting and tremulous nature guarantees its inability to maintain
strict definition in the manner of other single-round signifiers. Eternally
undefined, art must then constantly lapse from signifier to signified, streaming
through the communal signifying body on its passage from end to end and
stirring up discourse as it goes. Thus, art is completely self-sustaining in
terms of discourse for itself and its own production and reproduction and for
the purpose of stimulating and re-stimulating the communal signifying body into
the production and reproduction of discourse.<br />
In light of these three most
productive and generally applicable forms of social media, the previously
illustrated diagram deserves an update. The generic box first marked “catalyst”
and then replaced with the generic “social media” shall again be swapped for a
more specific explanation:<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMaK5h8g_i37ni_Hs2R2hS5g8OIZ7vlCfATe_b468aHLSuEFuAq70MipZfUvXzlF1CPnDN8TGwhA5iBvmCE8VKJ-VZEnTt-mq8nV2AsdXGxG7VTm1KfeQTB8pLZi3mzRvtMJcB1nw7OTerk3R6voPZyjG2dXnGE1Hai3eq7YlxOBuiwUwtF48X7lBJ8w/s390/image%2010.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="274" data-original-width="390" height="276" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMaK5h8g_i37ni_Hs2R2hS5g8OIZ7vlCfATe_b468aHLSuEFuAq70MipZfUvXzlF1CPnDN8TGwhA5iBvmCE8VKJ-VZEnTt-mq8nV2AsdXGxG7VTm1KfeQTB8pLZi3mzRvtMJcB1nw7OTerk3R6voPZyjG2dXnGE1Hai3eq7YlxOBuiwUwtF48X7lBJ8w/w392-h276/image%2010.jpg" width="392" /></a></div><p></p><p style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;">It has consequently been shown
how the communal signifying body is electrified into the production and
reproduction of discourse from the seemingly outside or objectified stimuli
that exist within the linguistic body for the purpose of this stimulation. Are
there also mechanisms contained entirely within the communal signifying body
that allow for a similar sort of stimulation process capable of causing
discourse without the necessary influence of a third-party stimulant?<br />
Foucault’s model introduced
earlier will again be called upon in order to further explore this question.
According to this model, the boundaries of language are defined by three
systems of exclusion:<o:p></o:p></p><p style="line-height: 200%; text-align: center;"></p><blockquote style="text-align: center;"><blockquote> Of
the three great systems of exclusion governing discourse – prohibited words,
the division of madness and the
will to truth – I have spoken at greatest length concerning the third. With good reason: for
centuries, the former have continually tended toward the latter; because this last has,
gradually, been attempting to assimilate the others in order both to modify them and to provide them with
a firm foundation. Because, if the two former
are continually growing more fragile and less certain to the extent that they
are invaded by the will to
truth, the latter, in contrast, daily grows in strength, in depth and implacability…. True discourse, liberated
by the nature of its form from desire and power,
is incapable of recognising the will to truth which pervades it; and the will
to truth, having imposed itself upon
us for so long, is such that the truth it seeks to reveal cannot fail to mask it. (***Foucault)</blockquote></blockquote><o:p></o:p><p></p><p style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;">This assertion establishes the
idea that language is limited by this underlying “will to truth which pervades
it[.]” Truth and the ease of communicating this truth have long been considered
as the necessary foundations for civilization and for language. The argument
goes something along the lines of <i>if one
cannot expect to receive a truthful response to any statement he should pose –
if one can only anticipate a falsity – then why should he bother to speak at
all? How can language exist without at least some promise of truth at its core?
</i>Foucault falls victim to this reasoning, even going so far as to posit that
false or mad speech lies entirely outside of the realm of actual discourse and
is thus worth discarding.<o:p></o:p></p><p style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;"> If
then all language tends, at least in some respect, toward what is <i>true</i> yet depends on the continuation of
discourse for its very sustenance, there must be as a minimum a margin for the
possibility of falsity. What is and has been established as true requires very
little discourse to maintain its trueness. How then can a language with a
built-in “will to truth” expect to create the discourse it needs to sustain
itself as a language? To rectify this iniquity there must be made available a
certain <i>discourse of falsification</i> in
which a communal signifying body may take part and then recant or nullify with
a discourse of truth on which the language is supposedly dependent. This would
not in any way undermine a language’s “will to truth;” rather a discourse of
falsification would serve as a complement to any corresponding discourse of
truth and serve to revalidate the truth of its complementary discourse, thereby
reassuring the language’s “will to truth” through the discourse it needs to
sustain itself. The discourse of falsification works in a simple fashion;
erroneous ideas, statements, words, etc., are introduced to and embraced, in a
way, within the linguistic community in order that the relative “truth” of the
matter may be divulged and reasserted through discourse. In this way, as long
as the false discourse is effectively discarded, truth remains in a prominent
status as necessary linguistic forefather, and discourse is afforded the
opportunity to be regenerated by the communal signifying body.<br />
The discourse of falsification
makes use of another concept that is an integral feature within the linguistic
community for the continued creation and recreation of discourse. Yes, many,
many pages ago it was promised that conflict would be resurrected before the
end of things, and finally, here is its assured return. Conflict is, perhaps,
the most important ready-made aspects of the linguistic community in terms of
its ability to stimulate the process of signification. Really, what could be better?
The creation of conflict – or, as it shall be diagrammatically represented for
its root similarities to present-day <i>discourse,</i>
discord – between individuals, ideas, principles, or any other aspect contained
within a single communal consciousness or across multiple communal
consciousnesses is guaranteed to, in its turn, create discourse, especially if
it is rebroadcasted through the externally positioned social media – news,
gossip, and art. The social media, as they exist within the linguistic
community, are perfectly attuned to take advantage of the discord that springs
forth in that community. For example, if two subgroups of a governmental body
of any given community should incite discord amongst one another, they are
forced into dialogue, each with the conflicting party, thereby creating
discourse amongst themselves. However, that discourse will not remain limited
to their private dialogue. It will inevitably spread to other parties. Perhaps
it will first be broadcasted as <i>news</i>,
which will reach a certain portion of that community’s – or any outside
community’s – population, who may then create and recreate discourse on the
subject. It may next spread via <i>gossip</i>
to the remaining portions of the population, who will continue to create even
more discourse. Finally, it may be re-envisioned or re-interpreted as <i>art</i>, creating a wholly new realm of reproduced
discourse on both the subject itself and the form adopted by art as conveyance
of that subject. At each stage, the discourse created based on that original
discord is subject to additional discourse, creating a web effect of
linguistically functional signification. Both libel and slander, by way of a
discourse of falsification, become useful tools in terms of a social medium’s
ability to transform a single discord into a multiplicity of discourse.<o:p></o:p></p><p style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;"> Thus,
the diagrammatic representation of the communality of language’s signifying
components earns itself another important tier:<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;">
</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisfdyIZCVwnsi6r8euXuCXQmYDjqgm-GNI637VzLWGFnU67H3GcSBAVXh_iKEJ6aYSaLcrehGqmxtSoZ1wWz4ZjGOWCZLS06xe1rgPlbS5Pfy-RSw_Y1oR9D89msypiPa1hIEASOscxFg5Ji2fwTmaP4DCk9Jpfex0YaZURORmDr2DEPPASBDKf0LI2w/s458/image%2011.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="445" data-original-width="458" height="403" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisfdyIZCVwnsi6r8euXuCXQmYDjqgm-GNI637VzLWGFnU67H3GcSBAVXh_iKEJ6aYSaLcrehGqmxtSoZ1wWz4ZjGOWCZLS06xe1rgPlbS5Pfy-RSw_Y1oR9D89msypiPa1hIEASOscxFg5Ji2fwTmaP4DCk9Jpfex0YaZURORmDr2DEPPASBDKf0LI2w/w415-h403/image%2011.jpg" width="415" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"></span><p></p><p style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;">Here the model shall come to a
rest. It is apparent that language, through its complex communality, is capable
of nourishing and prolonging itself through discourse. It is aided by its own
internal structures and, particularly, by its linguistic community – its
speakers, listeners, writers, thinkers. Language on the whole, in the fashion
of each comprising linguistic sign, remains invariable – and in existence –
because of its well-developed capabilities for variation through the many
facets of its dialogic and discordant elements. Discourse continues (and
continues and continues) and guarantees that language shall continue as well.<o:p></o:p></p><p style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;"><br /></p><p align="center" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: center;">Notes<o:p></o:p></p><p style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;">
</p><p style="line-height: 200%;">¹ This
is not avoidance. This is thought without passion.<br />
² Should time have allowed, a
further exploration into the interplay of multiple existing languages would
have proven a most interesting pursuit!<br />
³ The
Corpus of Contemporary American English reports that <i>breaking news</i> was used 49.87 times per million between the years of
2005 and 2009. Compare that to the rates of fiction (2.49 tpm), magazines (4.88
tpm), newspapers (8.11), and academic settings (2.03), and the results are
astounding.<o:p></o:p></p><p style="line-height: 200%;"><br /></p><p style="line-height: 200%;"><br /></p><p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-left: 0.5in; text-align: center; text-indent: -0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">Works Cited <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-left: 0.5in; mso-pagination: widow-orphan lines-together; text-autospace: none; text-indent: -0.5in;"><i><span style="color: #060014; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">Corpus of Contemporary American English</span></i><span style="color: #060014; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">. Brigham Young University, n.d. Web. 22 Nov. 2009.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-left: 0.5in; mso-pagination: widow-orphan lines-together; text-autospace: none; text-indent: -0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">Foucault,
Michel. <i>Key Excerpts</i>. N.p.: n.p., n.d. N. pag. Excerpt from <i>The Archaeology
of Knowledge and the Discourse on Language</i>. Trans. A.M. Sheridan-Smith.
N.p.: n.p., 1972. <i>Georgetown University</i>. Web. 25 Apr. 2010.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-left: 0.5in; mso-pagination: widow-orphan lines-together; text-autospace: none; text-indent: -0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">Millward,
C.M. <i>A Biography of the English Language</i>. Ed. Christopher P. Klein. 2nd
ed. N.p.: Thomson Wadsworth, 1996. Print.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-left: 0.5in; mso-pagination: widow-orphan lines-together; text-autospace: none; text-indent: -0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">Saussure,
Ferdinand De. <i>Course in General Linguistics</i>. Ed. Charles Bally and
Albert Sechehaye. Trans. Roy Harris. 1972. Chicago: Open Court, 2009. Print.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p style="line-height: 200%;">
</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-left: 0.5in; mso-pagination: widow-orphan lines-together; text-autospace: none; text-indent: -0.5in;"><i><span style="color: #060014; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">TIME Magazine Corpus</span></i><span style="color: #060014; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">. Brigham
Young University, n.d. Web. 22 Nov. 2009.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><br /></span></p>Kathttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13911742245743775772noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8831004853237106995.post-58659394698017700692023-02-19T02:00:00.004+09:002023-02-19T02:00:00.157+09:00Something Unsaid: Comments on Anne Sexton’s “Wanting to Die”<p><br /></p><p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Anne
Sexton’s “special language” changed the handprint of modern poetry into
something misshapen, discolored, and honest. Her namesake is, more often than
not, unfairly correlated with a procession of qualifiers. A veil, formally
termed confessional, confined the greater body of her work and provided
specific instructions for critical disregard. Her earlier publications, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">To Bedlam and Partway Back</i> and <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">All My Pretty Ones</i>, received mismatched
responses, declaring both great vision and non-intellectual drivel, all in a
knotted interpretation of literary etiquette. While Sexton fought a personal
battle against mental illness, her poetry struggled for due recognition as
poetry. Along with her contemporaries, the so-called confessional poets of the
mid-twentieth century, Sexton stole permission to write about herself and the
problems she knew best, regardless of whether the reader found pleasure
therein. In choosing to explicitly detail her psychological decline and
penchant toward suicide, she restored, if but temporarily, her own fleeting
sanity. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Her
poem “Wanting to Die” most directly addresses the chronic theme of her third collection,
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Live or Die</i>, which earned her a
Pulitzer Prize in 1967. The poem opens as an answer to the unwritten question,
“Why do you want to die?” Because Sexton’s poetry is so irrevocably entangled
with her own personal narrative, one can assume that the “I” who sets out to
develop this answer is at least some extension of Sexton herself, embodied in
an inkblot. Her initial response is that she “cannot remember” and is most
often “unmarked by that voyage.” This image of journeying evokes Thomas Cole’s <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Voyage of Life</i>, a series of paintings
through which a man succeeds from boyhood onward to death, which is seen as eternity.
For Sexton, this passage is at times interrupted by the return of an “almost
unnameable lust[,]” a condition Sigmund Freud described in his work <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Beyond the Pleasure Principle</i> as the <i>death
drive</i>. This intrinsic driving force systematically opposes the urge for
unity, creating an uneasy balance much like that between entropy and
conservation in thermodynamics. These natural principles recur here with bitter
taste buds, again “raging at the fruit” of Sexton’s internal conflict and its
transition onto paper.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Before examining her relationship
with death, Sexton first comments on her connection with life, which she claims
to “have nothing against[.]” Her casual cognizance of the “grass blades you
mention, / the furniture you have placed under the sun” seems trite at first
measure but may suggest that the “you” intended to signify the speaker of that
first unwritten question may, in fact, be directed at a god-figure. God played
a semi-frequent role in and out of Sexton’s poetry as she separated herself from
the constructs of Roman Catholicism and returns here in a variety of forms. The
pressures of answering to God take Sexton to an unexpected turn. When
describing the “special language” of suicides, she compares herself and other
death-seekers to carpenters, who “want to know <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">which tools</i>. / They never ask <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">why
build</i>.” This particular image summons forth the ideal of Jesus, who rose
from carpentry to unquestioningly follow the will of God. With this she has
glorified her suicidal tendencies, miraculously transforming herself into a
Christ-figure with a heaven-sent predestination for death at her own hand. This
iconic illustration is shortly juxtaposed by the description of her emotional
breakdowns as times when she had “possessed the enemy, eaten the enemy, / [had]
taken on his craft, his magic.” The model here proposed of the magic enemy may
directly hint at Satanism or some set of malevolent powers, contrasting the
fated righteousness and bodily perfidy of suicide.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>The body takes on a diminished
significance as Sexton continues her death march through the account of
specific interludes with suicide and insanity. Transitioning into a private
storyline, she recites, “Twice I have so simply declared myself,” perhaps
referring most directly to her earliest manic attacks, first occurring in 1954
and then again a year later. These bouts of mania caused her to seek out
psychological treatment, the panacea that would eventually give her poetry. The
flowering onset of mental illness and subsequent hospitalization and failed
suicide attempts dug a greater distance between Sexton and her own physical
existence:<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>In
this way, heavy and thoughtful,<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>warmer
than oil or water,<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>I
have rested, drooling at the mouth-hole.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>I
did not think of my body at needle point.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Even
the cornea and the leftover urine were gone.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Suicides
have already betrayed the body.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">The
body becomes a collaboration of unnecessary pedestrianism, amounting to nothing
greater than the transparency of a cornea or vile reality of “leftover urine.”
Disowned then from her own skin, Sexton finds herself in the unfortunate
predicament of breathing though consigned to death, a unique state of being she
shares with all suicides. She calls them “still-born,” a phrase used to
describe the early death of a fetus either during birth or while still within
the womb. Dead before life even begins, suicides walk in a third state of
being, “balanced there” between the chosen absolutes of life or death. The
structure of the poem, written in triplets, emphasizes this agitated purgatory.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Thus,
death emerges, wrapped in an image “so sweet / that even children would look on
and smile.” At this pinnacle transition, death is bestowed with the
personification of a familiar, female-figured savior, a trusted companion:<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Death’s
a sad bone; bruised, you’d say,<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>and
yet she waits for me, year after year,<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>to
so delicately undo an old wound,<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>to
empty my breath from its bad prison.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Death’s
persistence as a friendly-faced alternative to a life lived in purgatory
provides a comfortable propriety to suicide. Though written in free verse, lines
directly addressing suicide often carry almost-rhymes – “thoughtful,”
“mouth-hole;” “tongue,” “passion;” “open,” “infection” – that whisper of an
underlying cohesion. The pleasures of life are reduced to delusions, which
suicides are able to escape, “leaving the bread they mistook for a kiss[.]” The
answer to the opening question finally solidifies in the form of the “passion”
found in learning “to thrust all that life under your tongue[,]” with an
exclamation point for a stand-out climax.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Anything else is merely “an infection.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Though <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Live or Die</i> concludes with a poem titled “Live,” set as an
optimistic counterpoint to “Wanting to Die,” Anne Sexton did eventually choose
between them, “leaving the page of the book carelessly open” one month shy of
her forty-sixth birthday. Though many critics complained that the power of her
work began to dissolve as she neared her closing hour, she continued to write
without reservation, finishing her final collection of poems, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The Awful Rowing toward God</i>, shortly
before her death. Sexton was survived by a dozen literary awards and a
“pumped-up moon” of controversy. Her complete collection of poems was published
in 1981 and remains a prime example of the confessional literary movement.<o:p></o:p></span></p>Kathttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13911742245743775772noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8831004853237106995.post-1682290208183642992023-02-15T00:04:00.004+09:002023-02-15T00:12:53.028+09:00Getting and Spending: A Marxist Reading of Wordsworth<p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"> One is but rarely inclined to equate
the writings of the Romantic poets with that of philosopher Karl Marx. Though
the pastel landscapes and backwoods heroes of poets who discarded the
contemporary emphasis on science and reason may, at first glance, seem at odds
with Marx’s economically charged criticism of capitalism and its widespread
dominance, both schools of thought were directly influenced by the aftermath of
industrialization in Europe. The forum taken up by the Romantic poets provides
a linguistic referent for Marxist ideas, though the poets themselves may not
have intended each poem to stand as such. This overlap of conceptual Marxism
and Romantic idealism may be perfectly witnessed in William Wordsworth’s poem
“The world is too much with us.”<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"> Of Wordsworth’s many poems, “The
world is too much with us” perhaps best captures the movement’s most prominent
insecurities and fervent plea for a return to a pre-industrialized relationship
with nature. Its sonnet structure recalls a bygone era of complaint and
solution without the intermediary of factory and consumption. As such, the poem
becomes a virtual rally cry against the malignant effects of Marxist
alienation. Though labor is not directly indicated as the source of the
misgivings described in the poem, the clear disassociation with nature
precipitated by the social preeminence of wage-driven industrialism mirrors the
consequences of alienation on all fronts:<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"> Little we see in nature that is
ours;<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"> We have given our hearts away, a
sordid boon!<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"> The Sea that bares her bosom to the
moon;<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"> The Winds that will be howling at
all hours<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"> And are up-gathered now like
sleeping flowers;<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"> For this, for everything, we are out
of tune; <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"> It moves us not. ¹<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">Here
nature is no longer a blooming Sunday cottage excursion but rather an ugly,
transformed, manufacturing landscape moderated by concretization and wage
labor. Little wonder then that man becomes incapable of identifying elements of
himself within this newly engineered “nature.” The subsequent disassociation
and inevitable absence created between man, his environment, and his work –
which has <i>become</i> his very
environment, his waking and breathing – is precisely where alienation blossoms
and the giving away of hearts, through the commoditization of the self and the
distancing of work as product, begins:<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"> [T]he exercise of labor power,
labor, is the worker’s own activity, the manifestation of his own life. And this <i>life-activity</i> he sells to another person in order to secure the necessary<span><span> </span></span><i>means of subsistence</i>. Thus his life-activity is for him only a
means to enable him to exist.<span> </span>He works in order to live. He does not ever reckon labor as part of his life, it is rather a sacrifice<span> </span>of<span> </span>his life. It is a
commodity which he has made over to another. (Marx
660)<b><o:p></o:p></b></span></p><p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">The
heart – or, in the language of Marx, the labor that man is capable of producing
by way of his functioning heart muscle, which is, in turn, the “manifestation
of his own life” – is effectually sold to the mechanized automaton of
industrialization, an act Wordsworth refers to as the paradoxically phrased
“sordid boon[,]” thus implying that the so-called progress of the
industrialized nations is at once a blessing and immoral or base. Through this
progress, the nature from which man has sprung is contractually surrendered. Wordworth’s
capitalization of the natural elements “Sea” and “Winds” deifies these elements
so that they are no longer observable staples of global existence but rather a
source of metaphysical detachment from which man finds himself “out of tune”
and must ostensibly return to through the sacrifice of his new-worldly
subsistence.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"> With alienation, the fetishization
of the commodity naturally follows, and this too is offhandedly addressed in
Wordsworth’s poem:<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"> The world is too much with us; late
and soon,<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"> Getting and spending, we lay waste
our powers:<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">In
a comprehensive work of so few words, the decision to incorporate the widely
used capitalist phrase “[g]etting and spending” adds additional weight to the
accusation presented within the opening lines of the poem. Here Wordsworth directly
blames the growing fascination with the mystified commodity and the need for
wages to supply said commodities on the misappropriation of labor inherent in
capitalist systems, a phenomenon he refers to as a “waste [of] our powers[.]” Rather
than taking advantage of the creative forces garnered from nature, man must
expend his life energies on the labor of automatic production and reproduction.
The temporally frenzied hour, “late and soon,” suggests the dismissal and
willful ignorance of the origin that is implicitly entangled with the tentacled
confusion that is commodity fetishism. In Marx’s analysis of commodity
fetishism, he describes the way in which a commodity becomes alienated from its
own origin just as the worker who produces the commodity is alienated from the
production of that commodity. The commodity then appears within the marketplace
seemingly without any human interference or aid. Similarly, Wordsworth fails to
identify a specific beginning or causation factor for the interminable dilemma
he projects onto English society. Even the pseudo-past indicated by the phrase
“We have given our hearts away” offers no actual point of departure between man
and his heart. The problem exists without origin.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"> Wordsworth does, however, offer a
solution to this problem, though notably one that differs radically from Marx’s
prophesy of a proletariat uprising. Instead, Wordsworth proposes a more
individualized brand of revolution, involving the reabsorption of man into
nature by way of an active refusal to accept England’s continuing modernization:<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"> Great God! I’d rather be<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"> A Pagan suckled in a creed outworn;<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"> So might I, standing on this
pleasant lea,<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"> Have glimpses that would make me
less forlorn;<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"> Have sight of Proteus rising from
the seas;<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"> Or hear old Triton blow his wreathed
horn.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">Wordsworth
adopts the sea gods of Greek mythology as a way of purging the infected wound
industrialization has inflicted on the motherland, a choice reminiscent of
Noah’s flood, though one which admittedly rejects all Christian paraphernalia.
For Wordsworth, it is this “creed outworn” or rather the nostalgic past that
offers the only sojourn from the horrors of over-industrialization.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"> It goes without saying that Marx
took the more aggressive approach to addressing the issues raised by the
mechanization of the working classes, but Wordsworth’s writings are not without
their own private victories. “The world is too much with us” triumphs in its
picturesque encapsulation of the Romantic sentiment over the loss of the
natural within daily life. His emotional critique of the social and personal
ramifications of economic progress echoes and transcends, through the
brilliance of language, the decisively economic approach upheld by Marx. Though
neither succeeded in singlehandedly ending the brutalities of the Industrial
Revolution, Wordsworth, for one, maintained his devout relationship with nature
and its bountiful blessings to the very end.</span></p><p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"> </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 16px; text-align: left;">¹ All quotations here inserted courtesy of </span><i style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 16px; text-align: left;">The Longman Anthology of British Literature</i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 16px; text-align: left;">: Volume Two, page 436, unless otherwise noted.</span></p><p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"> </span></p><p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-left: 0.5in; text-align: center; text-indent: -0.5in;">Works Cited<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-left: 0.5in; mso-pagination: widow-orphan lines-together; text-align: justify; text-autospace: none; text-indent: -0.5in;">Marx, Karl. “Wage Labor and Capital.” <i>Literary Theory</i>. Ed. Julie
Rivkin and Michael Ryan. 2nd ed. N.p.: Blackwell, n.d. 659-664. Print.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-left: 0.5in; mso-pagination: widow-orphan lines-together; text-align: justify; text-autospace: none; text-indent: -0.5in;">Wordsworth, William. “The world is too much with us.” 1807. <i>The
Longman Anthology of British Literature</i>. Ed. David Damrosch and Kevin J.H.
Dettmar. Vol. 2. Boston: Longman, 2010. 436. Print.</p><p><br /></p>Kathttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13911742245743775772noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8831004853237106995.post-70555453362793418202023-02-12T07:34:00.000+09:002023-02-12T07:34:10.020+09:00Subversive Symmetry: Thoughts on Wittgenstein & the Tractatus<p> </p><p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"><span> </span><span> </span>The
writings of Ludwig Wittgenstein are unique in that each conflicting view
proffered sparked a separate and independent revolution in the spirals of philosophy.
His preoccupation with the logic behind linguistics expanded and transformed in
a process similar to the very evolution of that language that perplexed him so.
Though the progression of his earliest views of language and its reflection of
the world led Wittgenstein along an unseen path toward a complete abandonment
of these ideals, his original views maintained prominence among a series of
devout contemporaries, leaving a visible blemish on the face of philosophy.
These early theories, while birthing an important emphasis on language itself,
were littered with incongruous flaws not easily reconciled by his later
philosophical theses, flaws which continue to ignite endless debate even today.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Following the outbreak of World War
I, during his service in the Austrian army and subsequent stopover in an
Italian prison camp, Wittgenstein painstakingly constructed a collection of
propositions, which he would later combine as a dissertation called the <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Tractatus Logico-Philosophicus </i>(Kolak
and Thomson 17). Through the course of seven headlining propositions and their
innumerable, succeeding sub-propositions, he believed to have addressed and
dissolved the “‘inextricable tangle of problems which is known as philosophy,’”
as no thinker had been able to do beforehand (qtd in Black, “Problems” 95).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He did so by equating all investigations into
the nature of philosophy with the study of language. Unfortunately for
Wittgenstein and all those entranced by the confines of logical atomism, the <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Tractatus</i> serves only to limit language
and to stigmatize it with a matchless brand of mysticism.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>The early sort of Wittgenstein
prominent in the writings of the <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Tractatus</i>
was a fundamental proponent of the Correspondence Theory of Language, or the
idea that “‘words are names and that it is not truth, so much as meaning, that
is a form of correspondence between symbols and things’” (qtd in O'Shaughnessy 115).
The version of this theory presented in the <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Tractatus</i>
is more commonly referred to as the Picture Theory and is one which “uses the
principle of representation to explain how sentences acquire and keep their
senses” (Pears 115). In an attempt to summarize the theory as a whole, David S.
Shwayder writes, “Every picture is a presentation that such and such is the
case; and every presentation that such and such is the case is a picture; a
presentation that such and such is the case is an act of thinking that such and
such is the case” (306). Schwayder shows that explanations of Wittgenstein’s
written intentions often prove even more convoluted than the original texts
themselves. Regardless of its circuitous self-explanations, Wittgenstein’s
Picture Theory is one which “bases the possibility of saying some things on the
actuality of other things which cannot be said,” an idea that would hear its
own echo in all later propositions (Pears 7).<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>A visible illustration, as
Wittgenstein would undoubtedly prefer, of this theory can be mapped out through
the <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Tractatus</i>. Beginning with the
fourth proposition, readers can follow the hapless plight of a “sentence [as] a
picture of reality,” or at the very least, “reality as we think it is” (4.01).
Here J.W.T. Wisdom would emphatically insert that since so very few sentences
in ordinary language actually picture facts or versions of reality at all, Wittgenstein
must be attempting to “‘point out an ideal to which some sentences try to
attain’” (qtd in Black, <u>Companion</u> 162). This implied idealism challenges
the isomorphism emphasized in the continuing story of sentences and their
representative realities and introduces a widening gap between the two
described sets. Following the lines of Wisdom’s interpretation, one could then
suppose that an idealized sentence structure would imply an isomorphic,
idealized reality and thus no reality. As such, no isomorphic relationship
could exist between sentence and reality, as the existence of one would
possibly denote the non-existence of the other, and the purpose of the Picture
Theory would thoroughly disband. Wittgenstein himself writes, “A sentence
determines reality to the degree that one only needs to say ‘yes’ or ‘no’ to
it, and nothing more, to make it agree with reality. Reality must therefore be
completely described by the sentence” (4.023). In this way, Wittgenstein would
seem to disagree with Wisdom’s interpretation, or his picture of reality, as
the case may be, in favor of that isomorphism, or one-to-one relation between
two sets, which intertwines language with the world. Thus, sentences must
reflect images of facts and of the world, either true or otherwise, instead of
merely working toward an idyllic attainment of such an image.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Even before his presentation of the
reflection between language and the world, it is clear that Wittgenstein “wants
to determine the elements that are at the foundations of language – the
irreducible components at the last step of analysis” (Schulte 53). In order to
do so, he must rely heavily on a series of “perceptions, analyses, conjectures,
and metaphors,” each of which motions toward a persuasive aura with little of
the logic that Wittgenstein himself projects his favor of. He attempts to allay
his own use of metaphors, using musical scores to illustrate the point that
“pictures” are not intended to be precise photographs or copies of the scene
they attempt to depict (4.011). However, it is important to note that it is, in
fact, a “metaphor to speak of a musical score as a picture of the music. In
this passage, [Wittgenstein] seems to be aware that he has stretched the ordinary
meaning of ‘picture’” (Black, <u>Companion</u> 163). Opponents to the Picture
Theory suggest that “picture” may perhaps be a misnomer, for a</span><span style="font-family: "NewBaskerville-Roman",serif; mso-bidi-font-family: NewBaskerville-Roman;">
</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“picture
is not like a proposition; it doesn’t say anything[;] … the most that one could
grant would be that we could <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">use</i><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>the picture <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">in </i>saying how things are; we could hold up the picture ourselves
and say: ‘This is how things are’” (Anscombe</span><span style="font-family: "NewBaskerville-Roman",serif; mso-bidi-font-family: NewBaskerville-Roman;"> 64-5).</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Though the significance of ordinary usage had
yet to take its hold on Wittgenstein’s philosophy, it seems here that he
commits a crime he would later indict as heinous, through the misuse of the
language he employs to understand language as a whole. If nothing else, his
terminology tires long before he can reach any substantial conclusion.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>When constructing this aggrandized
“picture” of the world, Wittgenstein relies on the existence of simple
sentences, which he calls elementary sentences or elementary propositions; he
writes, “The specification of all true elementary sentences describes the world
completely” (4.26). Here he has finally provided a way in which language and
reality can logically reflect one another. He has also given the building
blocks of said propositions, explaining that an “elementary sentence consists
of names. It is a connection, a linkage of names” (4.22). Here again subsists a
problem. First the assumption must be made that names are fundamental enough to
form, if one will allow, the DNA of that which will ultimately create the image
and, even beyond the image, the very being of the world. In the literal sense,
names themselves are but a series of letters, strung together line by line. In
the <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Tractatus</i>, Wittgenstein refers to
names as “‘simple signs’” or the expression of thoughts “such that the objects
of the thoughts correspond to the elements of the sentential signs”
(3.2-3.201). Names, as they are, can have no relation with facts, for “only
facts can express a sense; a class of names cannot,” and “[f]acts can be
described but not named” (3.142-3.144). In this manner, Wittgenstein paints
names as being entirely useless, with no degree of truth or falsity and only
the ability to represent some object which the name itself is not but only
speaks of, in some obscure and abstract way. Wittgenstein himself notes that
“only in the context of a sentence does a name signify anything” (3.3). Still
the existence of elementary facts depends on the existence of these names,
which cannot stand alone as they are, so they should, at least in theory, be
worthy of some accreditation, if only to be appointed of some universal honor
they have not earned in practice. Circling back to the original proposition, a
complete description of the world, as it is, requires the existence of true
elementary sentences, yet one may ask, “[H]ow can a series of names state a
fact; how can it say anything true or false?” (Pitcher 81). It seems quite
possible that a series of names should do little more than stand simply as a
series of names. If what Wittgenstein intends to imply is that it is not the
names themselves that represent reality through the existence of elementary
sentences but rather the fact that they are and can be aligned in such a way as
to mimic reality that they do, in fact, form the elementary sentences that
describe the world in all its whirling entirety, just as amino acids line up
one after another to form different types of proteins, which then in turn set
all living things to functioning in the manner that they function, he does a
pitiable job at clarifying this idea, even after again reverting to a tiresome,
musical metaphor. This presentation of a juxtaposed language and world, each
deriving truth or falsity from the other with no clearly delineated source of
said truth or falsity, creates a dizzying dualism of unexpected proportions. Perhaps
things would have gone more smoothly if Wittgenstein had abandoned words
altogether and had simply drawn a picture.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>The relationship between the facts
of the world and the facts of sentences imposes yet another problem onto the
pages of the <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Tractatus</i>. Here
Wittgenstein presents the world as a “totality of facts,” “determined by the
facts, and by these being all the facts” (1.1-1.11). He later explains that a
“sentential sign is a fact” (3.14). Now there would seem to exist a world of
facts derived of sentential signs, which are facts. However, this is not
exactly the case. A sentential sign, which is a fact, is also a thought,
provided that it is applied and thought through, and a thought that makes sense
is also called a sentence (3.5-4). It logically follows that the “totality of
sentences is … language” (4.001). The cycle of factuality traces back to those
fiendish sentential signs, for once they were appointed as facts, they spread
their factual seeds all around the mulberry bush and back again. It can be
assumed that if sentential signs are facts and also happen to be thoughts, then
thoughts are facts; it follows that if sentences are also thoughts and if
thoughts are facts, then sentences are facts as well, by turn. The conglomerate
of sentences, which are facts, form language. At first glance, this assertion
seems both logical and problem-free. The issue, however, traces back to the
foundations of the <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Tractatus</i>, that
initial proposition that the world is but a totality of facts. If the world is
a totality of facts and if language is also a totality of facts, then a
subversive sort of symmetry is born. The web becomes even more entangled in
itself with the introduction of the claim that sentences, on top of all of
their other roles, are also pictures of reality, insomuch that “[r]eality must
… be completely described by the sentence” (4.021). Here it would be useful to
remind oneself that the “sum total of reality is the world,” which would aptly
lead one to believe that a single sentence could, as a fact and a picture and
all of the other forms it can maintain, be the world, or at the very least a
full description of it. (This multiplicity of role-assigning gives a facelift
to the <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Tractatus</i> that Wittgenstein
probably did not intend, as he penned early on in proposition 2.0122 that
“[w]ords cannot appear in two different roles.”) It is important here to
mention that pictures themselves are also facts (2.141). This leaves a powerful
triage of facts: those which combine to create the world, those which combine
to create language, and those which stand alone in the middle and exist solely
because of the parallel between the first two sets. At this realization, the
entirety of Wittgenstein’s argument spins into blind confusion. Is then the
world a totality of languages and ability of those languages to reflect that
world which is conceived by them? Or is language perhaps the greater being,
forming from the midst of all of the facts of the world? Or do language and the
world stand apart from one another and occasionally allow facts to pass between
them? It seems quite possible to imagine that, if language is a picture or
reflection of the world, then the world must also be a picture or reflection of
language, though this undoubtedly undermines Wittgenstein’s demand for
simplicity, an ideal that would stem from the reduction of the world and of
language to a series of atomic principles.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Wittgenstein does attempt to rectify
this schism by uniting language with the world, saying, “<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The boundary of my language</i> is the boundary of my world” (5.6). Here
he trades his dualistic playing card for one of a more monistic nature. He
continues by explaining that the “boundary of logic is also the boundary of the
world” (5.61). Thus, there is a combination of language and logic with the
world, in a way in which one may assume that the three not only share an equal
value but that they may be one and the same after all, as a hapless breed of
Three Musketeers. In this way, both language and logic become limiting; they
are the walls that surround the world and prevent it from expanding or that
surround and prevent individual thought from expanding, as the case may be,
since “I am my world” (5.63). Presented in such a dim light, language and logic
no longer appear as tools to aid human advancement but instead as burdensome
shackles holding humanity in place. With a clear view of the world made almost
impossible through the dark shades of language and logic’s smudgy glass,
objective study becomes perfectly unachievable. Thus, the merits of natural
sciences completely dissolve, which may not prove so disagreeable to
Wittgenstein, who argues that the “meaning of the world must lie outside the
world” (6.41). Similarly, Wittgenstein’s own iconic assertion that philosophy
is but “a ‘critique of language,’” while seemingly significant on a universal
level, becomes most problematic, for no objective critique of language can be
offered with language itself standing as a barrier between observer and that
being observed. Language then could not be understood at all, if it were only
to be understood through its own constructs, just as one cannot remove one’s
own heart in order to thoroughly study its chambers. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Thus,
language is just as the eye in the visual field. This observation, if one could
call it such, leads to the equation of language with that of the metaphysical,
for language becomes a metaphysical subject just as the “philosophical self is
the metaphysical subject, the boundary – nowhere in the world” (5.641). This
idea takes Wittgenstein on a turn for the worse. Strapped with no workable
explanations of his own, he reverts to speaking of the ineffable, that unspoken
blend of presence and absence that must exist for all of that which can be
expressed to be expressed yet limits all expressions by the fact that it is by
nature inexpressible. Here the fact that no problems exist solves problems, and
the fact that there can be no real expression makes the limited expression that
exists possible. In this backward world through the looking glass, even the
idea that language is a barrier provides one with the sickening sweetness of
butterflies in the stomach. Wittgenstein calls this “feeling of the world as a
bounded whole … the mystical feeling” (6.45). He universalizes the sensation,
saying that the “inexpressible indeed exists. This <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">shows</i> itself. It is the mystical” (6.522). Instead of transforming
the ordinary art of expression into an untouchable divinity, Wittgenstein
attempts to reduce his own ignorance, just as the Greeks used gods to explain
natural phenomena they could not comprehend in any other way, insulting both the
capacity for human understanding and language itself in the process. His
elongated list of all that cannot be said and eventual call to silence suggests
a futility or insufficiency of language in its entirety. In the end, the <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Tractatus</i> simply craves a simplicity of
thought and being that language refuses to adhere to. Whether or not it takes
on a limiting role in human understanding, language demands an explanation just
as twisted, spinning, and complicated as it is.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Wittgenstein, of course, did eventually
see the errors of his logic and recanted the majority of his early
propositions, penning a second set of theories in his <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Philosophical Investigations</i>, which caused yet another stir in the
underbelly of philosophy. While the <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Tractatus</i>
may have done its very best to belittle and demean language on the whole, it
did raise enough eyebrows to bring language to the forefront of philosophical inquiry.
Moritz Schlick, a contemporary of Wittgenstein, believed that the “whole of
philosophy might have taken a very different course if the minds of the great
thinkers had been more deeply impressed by the remarkable fact that there is
such a thing as language” (qtd in Black, “Problems” 96). For all of the faults
attributed to him here and in innumerable critiques and criticisms elsewhere,
Ludwig Wittgenstein was certainly impressed by the existence of language, a
fact that no opponent would dare to disparage.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p align="center" class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: center;">Works
Cited<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;">Anscombe,
G.E.M. <u>An Introduction to Wittgenstein’s Tractatus</u>. London: Hutchinson
and<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">Company, 1959.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;">Black, Max. <u>A
Companion to Wittgenstein’s Tractatus</u>. 1964. Ithaca: Valley Offset, 1966.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;">- - -. “Some
Problems Connected with Language.” <u>Proceedings of the Aristotelian Society</u>.
N.p.:<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 200%; margin-left: .5in; text-align: justify;">n.p., 1939. 42-68. Rpt. in <u>Essays on Wittgenstein’s Tractatus</u>. Ed.
Irving M Copi and Robert W Beard. New York: The MacMillan Company, 1966.
95-114.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;">Kolak,
Daniel, and Garrett Thomson. “Ludwig Wittgenstein.” <u>The Longman Standard
History of<o:p></o:p></u></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;"><u>Twentieth-Century Philosophy</u>. New York: Pearson Education, 2006.
17-19.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;">O’Shaughnessy,
Edna. “The Picture Theory of Meaning.” <u>Mind</u> 62.246 (1953): 184-201. Rpt.
In<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 200%; margin-left: .5in; text-align: justify;"><u>Essays on Wittgenstein’s Tractatus</u>. Ed. Irving M Copi and Robert W
Beard. New York: The MacMillan Company, 1966.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;">Pears, David.
<u>The False Prison: A Study of the Development of Wittgenstein’s Philosophy</u>.
Vol.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">1. Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1987.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;">Pitcher,
George. <u>The Philosophy of Wittgenstein</u>. Englewood Cliffs: Prentice-Hall,
1964.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;">Schulte,
Joachim. <u>Wittgenstein: An Introduction</u>. Trans. William H Brenner and
John F Holley.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">Albany: State University of New York Press, 1992.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;">Shwayder,
David S. “On the Picture Theory of Language: Excerpts from a Review.” <u>Mind</u><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 200%; margin-left: .5in; text-align: justify;">72.286 (1963): 275-88. Rpt. in <u>Essays on Wittgenstein’s Tractatus</u>.
Ed. Irving M Copi and Robert W Beard. New York: The MacMillan Company, 1966.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;">Wittgenstein,
Ludwig. <u>Tractatus Logico-Philosophicus</u>. 1922. N.p.: n.p., n.d. Rpt. in <u>The<o:p></o:p></u></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 200%; margin-left: .5in; text-align: justify;"><u>Longman Standard History of Twentieth-Century Philosophy</u>. Ed.
Daniel Kolak and Garrett Thompson. New York: Pearson Education, 2006.<o:p></o:p></p>Kathttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13911742245743775772noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8831004853237106995.post-4321364597335591142022-05-19T09:30:00.003+09:002022-05-19T09:30:26.378+09:00Of the White and Western: Thoughts on Said, Roediger, and Beyond<p> </p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>To locate and examine hegemony in
practice is a difficult task in and of itself. It requires the breaking of
accepted normalities and a view of cultural behaviors and ideas that escapes
its own contemporary ideological framework. If it can be done, however, it can
illuminate the effects of these hegemonic principles on those subsumed within
them as well as on those who are consciously or unconsciously excluded from
those norms. Each in their own way, Edward Said’s <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Orientalism</i> (1979), David Roediger’s <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The Wages of Whiteness </i>(1991), Benedict Anderson’s <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Imagined Communities</i> (1983), and Melani
McAlister’s <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Epic Encounters</i> (2001) have
done just that. Each of these essentially anti-hegemonic works calls into
question a unique facet of accepted or agreed upon “reality” and explores the
ramifications therein.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Edward Said’s <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Orientalism</i> is an early example of works in this vein. It is
notably a book concerning the “culture, ideas, history, and power” (Said xvii)
that have created and have been created by the unique relationship between the
Occident and the Orient, a relationship that is profoundly one of “power, of
domination, of varying degrees of complex hegemony” (Said 5). Still, Said’s
work is not one that works simply within the mode of examining traditional
binaries of domination and resistance or of the oppressor and the oppressed. By
incorporating Gramsci’s notion of hegemony and its workings within the Occident
– and, by extension, within the Orient that is thereby manufactured – Said is
able to successfully redefine that which has become the Orient through and by
orientalism, which is at once a “style of thought based upon an ontological and
epistemological distinction made between ‘the Orient’ and (most of the time)
‘the Occident’” (2) and a “considerable dimension of modern
political-intellectual culture, and as such has less to do with the Orient than
it does with [the Occident – what Said calls ‘our world’]” (12). In the
creation of the process noun <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">orientalism</i>,
Said effectively brings into discourse the arbitrary creation of the
multifariously connoted Orient as a thing having less to do with inherent
differences from the Occident as being inextricable from the self-creation of
the Occident and all that is connoted therein. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Similarly, David Roediger’s <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The Wages of Whiteness</i> takes at its
center the creation of what he calls whiteness through the creation of an
alternate other, or, in this case, blackness. The text sets out to address the
“white problem – the question of why and how whites reach the conclusion that
their whiteness is meaningful” (Roediger 6) and the sociopolitical and
historical mechanisms by which “white” became so powerfully signified within
American culture. Roediger claims that in “its broadest strokes, this book
argues that whiteness was a way in which white workers responded to a fear of
dependency on wage labor and to the necessities of capitalist work discipline”
(13). While whiteness as reaction may have stemmed from capitalism, it happened
through the creation of and self-differentiation from the new black populations
in the United States. In this capacity, Roediger’s work and Said’s work come to
nearly identical conclusions about the relational nature of seemingly opposing
though arbitrary identities in establishing one group’s dominance over another.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Despite the similarities between
Said’s and Roediger’s texts, their concepts of “westerness” and “whiteness” are
neither equivalent nor interchangeable. Said’s discussion of the Orient as
implicit within and created by the Occident relies on an epistemological and
philological framework that privileges the role of discourse, much like the
work of Foucault on the nature of power as implicitly discursive. Roediger’s
argument for the relationship between whiteness and its othered blackness, on
the other hand, largely depends on a Marxist framework, conceiving of whiteness
as an ideology consciously or unconsciously created as a means of achieving a
more prominent class status for poorer white workers in the new, post-slavery,
industrialized nation. Though the overarching outcomes of each text may seem
well-fitted to the other, the methods by which these outcomes are achieved are
different and isolated enough to prevent the two texts both from overshadowing
the other and from achieving full potential. The failure of each text to
incorporate the various benefits of the other’s methodological discourse may be
said to be an obvious shortcoming. A discussion of whiteness, for example, may
benefit from notions of discourse in a genesis role, just as postcolonial
studies might benefit from an incorporation of class structures and politics in
its understanding of power relations. However, both texts make significant
strides toward understanding the myth of inherent dominance in their societies
in question. As Roediger writers, to “ignore white ethnicity is to redouble its
hegemony by naturalizing it” (12). Both <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Orientalism</i>
and <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The Wages of Whiteness</i> debunk the
dominance of the dominant group in question – be it Occidental or white – as tautological
by essentially un-naturalizing it.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Both of these texts have also
succeeded in offering new platforms for further analysis, interpretation, and
intertextual conversation. Benedict Anderson’s book <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Imagined Communities</i>, for example, puts its focus on the hegemonic
reign of nationalism, which may seem to be unrelated for the most part to
Said’s and Roediger’s texts, but, when the three works enter into conversation
with one another, new outcomes are produced. Anderson writes that communities
themselves “are to be distinguished not by their falsity/genuineness, but by
the style in which they are imagined” (6). This notion of imagining as it is
complicit in the creation of communities complicates discussions of the
creation of hegemonically dominant communities such as the larger Occidental or
white populations. This concept alone could certainly benefit both Said’s and
Roediger’s works, and the newer predominance of nationalism, while somewhat
present in Roediger’s text as its focus is limited to the United States, might
also change and contemporize the contexts of both orientalism and whiteness. Orientalism
and whiteness are both brought into discussion and elevated in Melani
McAlister’s <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Epic Encounters,</i> which
narrows its focus to the relationship between the United States and the Middle
East. In this text, McAlister argues that “political and cultural conditions in
the United States produced a post-Orientalist model of representing the Middle
East for American audiences” (40). Her argument, of course, is tremendously
indebted to Said’s work, but it also grows upon Roediger’s work with elaborate
discussions of race and supremacy, specifically in relation to the Middle East
as conduit for African American identity in the United States. Both of these
texts, as well as numerous related texts, keep the ideas of Said and Roediger
in textual conversation through continuous contemporization and new, diverse
vantage points.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Understanding the hegemonic power
relations at play both within the United States and transnationally and the
sociopolitical – as well as national and cultural – ramifications of these
relations on both dominant and non-dominant parties is the first step toward
resisting and dismantling that hegemonic system. Texts like Said’s <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Orientalism</i> and Roediger’s <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The Wages of Whiteness</i>, especially when
considered in conversation with texts like Anderson’s <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Imagined Communities</i> and McAlister’s <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Epic Encounters</i>, are groundbreaking in their efforts to question
the consciously or unconsciously accepted paradigmatic structures that
construct societies at large and determine the global interplay of those
societies. As partners in growing the scope and depth of American Studies,
these texts are certainly invaluable members to the anti-hegemonic canon and
will continue to inspire and extend textual communication within their specific
fields and beyond them.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;">Works Cited</span><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: .5in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify; text-indent: -.5in;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;">Anderson, Benedict. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Imagined Communities: Reflections on the Origin and Spread of Nationalism</i>.
London: Verso, 1983. Print.</span><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: .5in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify; text-indent: -.5in;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;">McAlister, Melani. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Epic Encounters: Culture, Media, & U.S. Interests in the Middle
East since 1945</i>. Berkeley: U of California, 2001. Print.</span><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: .5in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify; text-indent: -.5in;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;">Roediger, David R. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The Wages of Whiteness: Race and the Making of the American Working
Class</i>. London: Verso, 1991. Print.</span><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: .5in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify; text-indent: -.5in;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;">Said, Edward W. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Orientalism</i>. New York: Vintage, 1979. Print.</span><o:p></o:p></p>Kathttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13911742245743775772noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8831004853237106995.post-61992802984593432172022-05-04T05:31:00.000+09:002022-05-04T05:31:00.172+09:00One Face Looks Out: Art, Sex, and Incarceration in Three Works<p align="center" class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: center;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"> Themes of incarceration have long
been a useful device for symbolic representations of the diverse trappings
experienced by literary characters. In the Victorian period, a barrage of
societal pressures and a culturally enforced system of repression made for a
wealth of literary material that forced characters into various states of
confinement as a way of pointing out and counteracting the repression
administered upon average citizens. Women of the era experienced a more
extensive sort of confinement in their everyday lives, both in terms of their
limited societal roles and of their consistently repressed sexualities. Women
of literature, in turn, were subject to a series of incarcerations, both
physical and figurative, that drew attention to the plight of their real-life
counterparts.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"> Christina Rossetti’s “In an Artist’s
Studio” offers an example of just such a turn of woman into prisoner. The brief
poem, running a mere fourteen lines in its total, details the relationship
between an artist and his muse, one presumably inspired by Rossetti’s own
brother, artist Dante Gabriel Rossetti, and his model Elizabeth Siddal. The
poem’s model is described as fulfilling a multiplicity of roles – that of a “queen
in opal or in ruby dress, / [a] nameless girl[,]” a “saint, [and] an angel”¹ –
yet she is limited to the “same one meaning, neither more nor less.” What seems
a multiplicity becomes instantly constricted to a singularity, a sort of
confinement of purpose or role. The only role this woman does not play within
the poem is her own. She is not given a name, and Rossetti mentions twice the
fact that she is “[n]ot as she is[.]” Thus the woman is not a woman but merely
a model for women, specifically women who exist initially within the
imagination of the artist – in this case, a man – and are then limited to the
art in which he paints them. Rossetti’s haunting introduction to the mystery
woman – “We found her hidden just behind those screens” – inspires doubt as to
whether the woman exists at all or if she is only the object of a man’s musings,
<i>just</i>, as Rossetti writes, behind
those screens. Screens, of course, bear the double meaning of canvases – blank
space meant for creation – and shields constructed for the purpose of hiding or
containing. Art, in this instance, becomes a physical imprisonment for the
woman – just as, perhaps, Rossetti herself is entrapped by and within her own
poetry – who becomes only a face upon which a man – an all men as bearers of
the look – may feed.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"> Art plays an eerily similar role in
Robert Browning’s “My Last Duchess.” The poem opens on the Duke – a
fictionalized version of the historical Duke of Ferrara – displaying for a
visiting envoy a portrait of his late wife “[l]ooking as if she were alive.” The
painting, the Duke notes, was commissioned and painted by a man, Frá Pandolf,
and now remains imprisoned behind a curtain which only the Duke himself may put
aside. As the narrative progresses, the Duke explains what he sees as the
transgressions that led his wife to her grim fate:<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"> The dropping of the daylight in the
West,<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"> The bough of cherries some officious
fool<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"> Broke in the orchard for her, the
white mule<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"> She rode with round the terrace –
all and each<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"> Would draw from her alike the
approving speech,<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"> Or blush, at least. She thanked men
– good! but thanked<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"> Somehow – I know not how – as if she ranked<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"> My gift … [w]ith anybody’s gift.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Though
the poem often superficially implies that the Duchess’s wandering eye and
too-quick smile spark the Duke’s disgust, this passage seems to suggest a more
pointedly sexual nature to her contraventions. The riding of a white mule – a
traditional marriage vehicle – and the breaking off of cherries indicate that
the Duchess’s relationship with the “officious fool” went beyond that of a
blush or lingering smile. It is this adultery, a socially rejected form of
sexual deviance, that condemns the Duchess – who, like Rossetti’s model,
remains unnamed – to eternal imprisonment within the confines of her portrait.
The terms of her incarceration are defined exclusively by her husband.
Browning’s use of the dramatic monologue grants sole narrative control to his
speaker, the Duke, who literally objectifies his first wife through art and
makes the Count’s daughter his object through his discussion with the voiceless
envoy. Thus the Duke holds the power to further confine his dead wife through
the manipulation and limitation of her portrait’s meaning.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"> The punishment of sexual deviation
also materializes in Christina Rossetti’s longer piece, <i>Goblin Market.</i> This deviance does not come in conjunction with art
but rather with the artfully fanciful goblin creatures that haunt the text with
their alluring call. In fact, it is these goblins – and not the poem’s young
heroines – and their fantastical market that give the poem its name and thus
hold the power within it. When one maiden, Laura, pays with a lock of her hair
to taste of their fruit, an act synonymous with the loss of virginity, she is
stricken with a physical illness that her sister Lizzie knows is a fated
imprisonment that leads only to an early death. Rossetti takes an interesting
turn in the construction of Laura’s infliction. When Laura falls sick, it is
her housework that suffers most:<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"> She no more swept the house,<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"> Tended the fowl or cows,<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"> Fetched honey, kneaded cakes of
wheat,<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"> Brought water from the brook:<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"> But sat down listless in the
chimney-nook<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"> And would not eat.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Laura’s
confinement to a life of practical uselessness and eventual death illustrates
not the fitting punishment for her premarital sexual sampling but the arbitrary
nature of women’s prescribed role as wife and homemaker, which is in itself an
incarceration within the domestic sphere. Thus Laura’s redemption from
imprisonment returns her to the life of imprisonment for which she was
initially bound.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p align="center" class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: center;">
</p><p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"> The overarching commonality shared
by the women in these works is that they have no means of escape. Trapped by
death, art, predetermined sexual roles, and the poems within which they exist,
an overwhelming sense of hopelessness haunts these jail-bound ladies. Still,
they are not without their own importance. Literary examinations such as these
of the conditions experienced by women in the Victorian period began a slow
process of chiseling away at the long history of women’s oppression and
repression. In many ways, the women of these poems sacrifice their own freedom
in order to secure the freedom of women in generations to come. Thus
hopelessness translates into hope for women who are no longer subject to
confinement by husbands, houses, or society on the whole.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p> </p><p><br /></p><p class="MsoFooter"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">¹
All textual evidence included herein is courtesy of <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The Broadview Anthology of British Literature, Volume 5: The Victorian
Era.<o:p></o:p></i></span></p>Kathttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13911742245743775772noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8831004853237106995.post-44981391964828262032022-04-21T09:51:00.004+09:002023-02-12T08:13:21.782+09:00Two Short Essays on The Merchant of Venice<p> </p><p align="center" class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">Thus
Transformèd: The Merits of Cross-Dressing in <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Merchant<o:p></o:p></i></span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Women in Shakespeare plays face a
litany of life trials that often do not end favorably for them. Their few
successes are overwhelmingly couched within the domestic realm; those who live
overcome difficulties to win husbands. The three ladies of <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The Merchant of Venice </i>win husbands in this fashion, but they also exceed
the traditional limitations of Shakespearean womanhood by accomplishing social
and religious goals. This competitive edge lies in their ability to abandon the
ornamentation of their own gender and thus their gender’s regimented roles
within the play. They are at once empowered by men – through the formulaic
getting of husbands – and through manhood, which each lady puts on, in a sense,
in order to secure marital and non-marital achievements.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Jessica is the first <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Merchant</i> lady to fulfill the pattern. Her
womanhood is first validated through the prospect of marriage and then
abandoned for the attainment of it; Christian Lorenzo promises his love and
devotion despite her Jewish ancestry and aims to secure her hand in matrimony.
Jessica hazards her love as a woman in the usual fashion, but it is not until
she adorns the clothes of a boy in the sixth scene of the second act that she
dares to make her full escape into marriage:<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>I am glad ‘tis night, you do not look
on me,<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>For I am much ashamed of my
exchange;<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>But love is blind, and lovers cannot
see<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>The pretty follies that themselves
commit;<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>For if they could, Cupid himself
would blush<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>To me thus transformèd to a boy.
(34-39)<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">Though
Jessica expresses discontent over being seen – or, rather, recognized – by her
love in this form, it is in this garnish that she is able to make her escape
from Shylock’s house – and armed with a lamentable proportion of Shylock’s
monetary wealth to boot. In her boy’s smock, she abandons both her father and
her religious heritage in one fell swoop, both acts that would have been
heralded as triumphs by Renaissance audiences, and thus becomes the literal
torchbearer for Lorenzo, her love, and a figurative torchbearer for the play’s
continued deliverance of female accomplishment.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Portia and Nerissa follow suit. Both
reach their pinnacled womanhood in the promise of future wiving – Portia with
Bassanio and Nerissa with Graziano – but must first convert themselves to men
in order to formally secure their love matches and to triumph beyond them. Portia
concocts the plan in the fourth scene of the third act:<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>They [our husbands] shall, Nerissa,
[see us] but in such a habit<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>That they shall think we are
accomplishèd<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>With what we lack. (60-62)<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">This
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">lack</i> of course connotes the ladies’
physical, namely sexual, differentiation from men, but it also speaks nicely to
their inability as women to fulfill substantive social roles within the play. Dressed
as men, the two avert gender limitations and enact in the fourth act what is
arguably the play’s most significant plot movement, i.e., Antonio’s salvation
and the formal damning of Shylock. Like Jessica’s betrayal of her father,
Shylock’s forced conversion and the stripping of his property would have been
heralded as social victories by original audiences, making the women – or, more
importantly, the men into whom they transform – the true heroes of the
play.</span></p><p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">⧪</span></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 16px; text-align: justify;">⧪</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 16px; text-align: justify;">⧪</span></p><p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><br /></span></span></p><p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"></span></p><p align="center" class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">Or
Otherwise Called the Jew: Multiplying the Jew-Figure in <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Merchant<o:p></o:p></i></span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Tubal of Shakespeare’s <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Merchant of Venice</i> goes almost unnoticed
in the midst of the uncomfortable comedy between Antonio’s band of Christians
and Shylock, the standalone figurehead of the Jewish race. However small his
role may be, Tubal’s presence in name and briefly in body offsets Shylock’s aloneness
– his complete separation from mankind – in a way that shifts the burden of
Jewishness from Shylock and dispenses it over a wider population. Through
Tubal, Shylock becomes not only one victim of Christian hatred but one among
many, suggesting a more systematic oppression of Jews rather than the isolated
occurrence in Venice.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Tubal’s name – an Old Testament
favorite – first appears almost as soon as Shylock does, and the two are rarely
long apart throughout the play. When Shylock is first propositioned for the
lending of money to Antonio, he explains that he himself at present cannot
raise the sum:<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>I cannot instantly raise up the
gross<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Of full three thousand ducats. What
of that?<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Tubal, a wealthy Hebrew of my tribe,<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Will furnish me. (50-53)<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">Shylock
constantly refers to his “tribe” when contemplating his own condition. This
passage immediately follows an aside in which Shylock berates Antonio’s
humanity for his hatred of the “sacred nation” of the Jews. It is no passing
coincidence that Tubal’s first description in the play is accompanied by tribal
reference. That a name beyond Shylock should be attributed to a member of that
tribe is at once humanizing and further stigmatizing. In one stroke, Shylock
has solidified his existence within a select group of real people; the shift
from “the tribe” or “sacred nation” to the naming of a specific individual
reconfirms that. However, even Shylock’s description of Tubal is limited by
Jewishness. Here Tubal is not attributed any personal qualifiers. His only
success – that he is a <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">wealthy </i>Hebrew
– is a Jewish stereotype. That Shylock should speak of his tribe mate in such
impersonal terms – even while naming him in a humanizing move – shows Shylock’s
deep understanding of the Christian hatred of Jews; he is speaking here to
Antonio and Bassanio, who cannot understand Jews outside of Jewishness. Thus
Tubal is at once named and stripped of any human qualities. That he should
remain virtually voiceless within the play only adds to this stripping of
individual characteristics, condemning Tubal to recognition only through the
mass qualifier “Jew.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>When Tubal finally does appear on
stage in the first scene of the third act, he is immediately met with Christian
cynicism in the form of Solanio, who quips, “Here comes another of the tribe. A
third cannot be / matched unless the devil himself turn Jew.” This little barb
implicates both Tubal and Shylock, once again disseminating the hatred that has
been geared wholly toward Shylock as <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">bad</i>
Jew and disbursing it evenly across the entire Jewish race.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">Tubal’s
actual on-stage presence portends two great monetary losses – Antonio’s wrecked
ships and Shylock’s irretrievable valuables – as well as two human losses –
Antonio’s forfeiture of his bond and potentially his life and Shylock’s lost
daughter. As such he becomes the bearer of both good and bad news; Shylock
alternates between thanking God for Tubal’s words and accusing Tubal of
stabbing him with words. Though this may implicate Tubal’s – and thus all Jews’
– speech as something dangerous, at once helpful and harmful, the fact that
Tubal speaks only to Shylock and that Shylock is the only character to directly
address Tubal within the play seems to negate this danger. After all, the
danger of a Jew turned inward upon Jews would hardly worry the Christians of
the play. Though the danger here is briefly negated, something may be said of
the Christians’ quick exit on Tubal’s arrival. Solanio’s remark makes it clear
that the Christians disdain Tubal for his Jewishness in the same manner that
they disdain Shylock. However, the quick departure of Solerio and Solanio
suggests a difference between Tubal and Shylock. Shortly before Tubal’s
arrival, Solerio, Solanio, and Shylock share words on Shylock’s daughter and
Antonio’s potential downfall. Though the content of their dialogue is expressed
scornfully and concerns strictly relevant plot details, the fact that Shylock
is able to host a conversation with two Christians with whom he does not hold a
legal bond based on monetary exchange while Tubal, a Jew and thus Shylock’s
equal in the eyes of the Christians, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">cannot
</i>suggests that Shylock is not actually the play’s <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">bad </i>Jew at all but may very well be its <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">good</i> Jew. Through Tubal, Shylock becomes briefly individuated among
Jews.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">Tubal’s
name is dropped one last time after he is charged with the task of hiring the
officer that will secure the legal ramifications of Antonio’s official
forfeiture. In the second scene of that third act, Tubal and another Jew, Chus,
are referred to by Jessica as Shylock’s countrymen, and it is revealed that
Shylock has informed them of his want for vengeance upon Antonio. Thus Tubal
and Shylock are once again realigned through common heritage and mutual hatred
toward Christians in preparation for the upcoming trial scene in which
sympathies are dually split between <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">the</i>
Jew – i.e., all Jews – and the Christians. Though Tubal serves to individualize
Shylock in ways, his presence is overwhelmingly purposed toward creating a
multiplicity of <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">the</i> Jew within the
play. Though Shylock remains representative of his race, the existence of a
second seeable, hearable Jew on stage extends Shylock’s plight to include an
entire multitude and thereby defers the Christians’ victory over the entire
Jewish population upon Shylock’s forced conversion. Shylock falls, allowing the
play to tumble toward its uneasy conclusion, but Tubal lives on <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">as a Jew</i> – even if he does so in
silence. <o:p></o:p></span></p><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"></span><p></p>Kathttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13911742245743775772noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8831004853237106995.post-78516162580465121882022-04-12T00:22:00.001+09:002022-04-12T00:25:59.777+09:00No Words for War<p> </p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Poetry has served as a medium for
the transference and communication of cultural and societal value structures
for innumerable generations, long before the invention of the printing press or
the boom of manuscript culture. It has been the voice of social commentary, the
vehicle of political reform, and the bridge that spans the whole of human
understanding. For poet Benjamin Alire Sáenz, poetry becomes a silhouette of modern
immigration, a comment on the relationships between species, and a conversation
between civilizations. His volume <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Dreaming
the End of War</i> questions the human propensity for war and the ways in which
violence is allowed to saturate the very genetics of personal interactions,
trickling into hegemonic breakfast cereals, child play, and eventually dreams.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>The collection is prefaced by a
passage from Graham Greene’s <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The Power
and the Glory, </i>a controversial novel roughly centered on the suppression of
Catholicism in Mexico. This snippet identifies the annihilation of hope as a
uniquely human experience, an idea that perfectly sets the stage for Sáenz’s
following dream sequence. The opening poem stands as a prologue, a sleepy-eyed
clarity, so to speak, before dozing. Its title, “Do Not Mind the Bombs,” aptly
captures the poem’s concern with the strangely human habituation to war. Here
Sáenz begins to examine how this bizarre phenomenon has become a pragmatic
reality through consistent inundation:<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>… as I<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>read the morning news – news of
bombs,<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>of all the deaths, Americans,
Iraqis, children, women,<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>men. Dead. Like π the blood and
bodies<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>run into infinity. (4)<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">For
Sáenz and millions of others worldwide, war cannot maintain an image of a force
capable of seizing the globe by its axis and shaking if “wars are
everywhere[,]” plastered across every television screen and newspaper headline.
There is also a tangible disconnect between readers of war and those who
directly experience it that aids in war’s status as casual after-dinner
conversation. By recalling a childhood spent in Belgium, a country scarred by a
visible history of war, Sáenz attempts to span this disconnect. Though he does
not directly participate in the conflict between the Flemish and the Walloons
that continues to create national tension even today, he does experience war’s
side-effects on other aspects of life. The artificiality of the post-war
countryside is the most present indicator of wrongdoing for the young poet:<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>... And before they planted crops,<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>they planted trees – the trees the
war had stolen<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>from the earth. “What the bombs had
not destroyed,<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>we chopped for fuel. Their stumps
and branches<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>gave us warmth. The land was bare
and spent. (3)<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">In
this way, Sáenz explains that the land cannot become habituated to war as
people can. However, it can be rejuvenated in a way that people cannot. The
trees in Belgium are replanted and grow successfully. Likewise, adult Sáenz has
lost some of his own plants “to the freeze – but / most survived” (4). As
Graham Greene suggests, the land does not know despair.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>If the annihilation of hope, or war
in the name of its most fundamental property, does not originate in the soil
from which men and plants alike are grown, it must then arise from some other
source. Sáenz adopts this discussion in his “First Dream: Learning to Kill,” in
which he begins to examine, based on his personal experiences, the ways in
which people learn to be violent. He describes youthful violence as “sweet
[and] uncomplicated[,]” something that is nurtured by families and nations:<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 2;"> </span>and all the other war<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>shows on TV they invented just<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>for us – the children of the nation
–<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">for
us</i> so we could begin to love<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>guns and the Constitution and our
rights<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>to kill game for sport, killing,
fathers<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>and mothers approving<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>because we were boys … (11)<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">In
this poem, Sáenz identifies multiple roots for the inbreeding of violence into
the American youth. In this passage alone, culprits include the media, the US
government and perhaps associated lobby groups like the NRA, and those who
implement a gender-biased parenting strategy with their children. Clearly there
are a variety of ways in which the American youth absorb the idea “that /
killing is part of what it [means] / to live[,]” but many of the factors that
Sáenz recognizes can be lumped together under the social stigma imposed by the American
war industry in a constant attempt to regenerate itself that war and the
American ideal are inevitably and irrevocably intertwined (9). This dangerous
suggestion is promoted by movies and television programs like “<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Rat Patrol</i> and <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Combat!</i>” that present a favorable image of war or a subversive
image of some foreign “other,” who, “even in death, … [refuses] to die in
English” (11-12).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>For Sáenz, a
Mexican-American who could easily fall into the “other” category, embracing
this American war ideal becomes an act of unification that transcends
ethnicity:<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>I understood<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>what the boys<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>in New York and L.A.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>and Boston and Chicago<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>understood … (9)<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">Here
war values supersede “race, ethnicity, and national / origin” and create an
even ground for the destruction of those who do not accept or comply with said
values. In many of Sáenz’s poems, the ultimate victim of this union of young American
warmongers is the earth, which, as Sáenz points out time and time again, “in
its stubborn intelligence, / [refeuses] to learn / our rituals and our /
language” (8).<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>The land takes on a different role
in “The Second Dream: Killing and Memory and War.” Instead of a victim of war,
the land becomes an incendiary motive for further violence:<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>I no longer plot to kill cats,<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>though I am still stepping on ants<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>and the occasional cockroach that<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>invades my house. This may have<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>something to do <span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>with the land. (21)<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">This
idea of <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">territory</i> thus becomes
entangled with the previous issues of nationalism and war, or rather, according
to Sáenz’s belief that “<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">everything</i> /
in the world goes back to the land[,]” the idea of <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">territory</i> gives cause to nationalism and war. Sáenz returns to his
earliest memories of Belgium to emphasize this point:<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>I don’t remember why the Walloons<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>and the Flemish have been warring<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">for
thousands of years in Belgium.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">Four
years I lived in that blessèd<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">country
of rain yet never<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">understood
the hate. I remember being<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">told
it had something to do with the land. (20)<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">Here
several important issues are raised. First Sáenz highlights the ease with which
war becomes a tradition and how it can “become as invisible as the desert sands
we / [t]rample on” (47). He again restates the importance of the land, yet he
does not offer land as a justification for war:<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Killing in the name of the land is a
habit,<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>an art, a discipline, the great
addiction<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>of every civilization … (20).<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">Land
is, in itself, the most valuable of resources. It is the <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">ownership</i> of land that creates the troubling inclination for war.
The ownership of memory, specifically memories of war and wartime, creates similar effects. This ownership -- of memory, of the land, and of war -- can
become so consuming, that it makes any act, no matter how horrible, seem
acceptable:<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>I understand these shadows, and how<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>these shadows become a politics<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>and how that politics becomes a flag<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>and how that flag becomes the only
house<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>we live in. (19)<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">For
Sáenz, this all-consuming need to own is the fundamental driving force behind
the human proclivity for violence, and the way in which the land is mistreated
and ignored provides a perfect model for habituation to war. The land and war
are, indeed, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">everywhere</i>.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Sáenz continues his poetic exploration
through twelve dreams. By the end, he has reached no overwhelming explanation
for or workable solution to ongoing wars worldwide. There are, after all,
“things that writing cannot hold” (62). Perhaps he knows that no such solution
can be reached, but “this knowing does not stop / [him] from [his] dream” (63).
His dreaming offers that glimmer of hope that man is so distinguished in
crushing. Above all else, his poetry breaks the sticky habituation to war and
to violence; it shreds headlines and raises a voice during casual after-dinner
conversations. Just as his imagination is capable of terrible things, Sáenz’s
dreams for the <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">end </i>of war show that
mankind can move in the direction of a peaceful coexistence with other peoples
and with the land that has cradled them for so many lifetimes.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: center;">Works
Cited<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-left: 0.5in; mso-pagination: widow-orphan lines-together; text-align: justify; text-autospace: none; text-indent: -0.5in;">Sáenz, Benjamin Alire. <i>Dreaming the End of War</i>. Port Townsend:
Copper Canyon, 2006. Print.<o:p></o:p></p>Kathttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13911742245743775772noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8831004853237106995.post-70404336665107224232022-04-07T07:36:00.005+09:002022-04-07T07:36:52.249+09:00Variations on the Death of Dizzy<p align="center" class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: center;"><br /></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: #060014; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"> The history of
the English language is littered with contrastive successes and failures. The
ebb and flow of the English lexicon have drowned many once prestigious words
and left others to bake and broil beneath a hot sun. One such ill-fated word, <i>dizzy</i>, has been spun nearly into
oblivion. A favorite word among whirling playground children, <i>dizzy</i> has survived a history of jazzed
highs and socially pejorative lows. Over the centuries, variant social
pressures have changed <i>dizzy</i> both
denotatively and connotatively, prodding and shaping it into its present caged
existence and threatening the long-lived treasure with complete extermination. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="color: #060014; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Originally appearing as one variation or another of <i>dysi<v:shapetype coordsize="21600,21600" filled="f" id="_x0000_t75" o:preferrelative="t" o:spt="75" path="m@4@5l@4@11@9@11@9@5xe" stroked="f">
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</v:imagedata></v:shape></i>, <i>dizzy</i> whirled
into Old English through the transport of an earlier Germanic language¹. Written
records of the word from as early as the ninth century show its original use as
a descriptive term for a “foolish man [or] a fool” or as a more broadly applied
adjective, meaning “foolish [or] stupid.” This definition was widely abandoned
by the onset of the twelfth century when the Middle English period, now in full
bloom, allowed for an influx of French borrowings. One such borrowing, <i>fool</i>, from the Old French <i>fol</i> meaning “mad [or] insane,” along with
its derived adjective form, overtook <i>dizzy</i>’s
domain, though a few documents, such as Sabine Baring-Gould’s description of
“dizzy-fools that … put their money there[,]”display a lingering synonymous
relationship between <i>dizzy</i> and
foolishness. For the most part, however, <i>dizzy</i>
underwent a virtual hibernation following its French overthrow.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: #060014; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"> By the
fourteenth century, <i>dizzy</i> was
tailored with a new denotation and fit for a revival. This time around, <i>dizzy</i> donned a more physiological
persona with a new meaning of “[h]aving a sensation of whirling or vertigo in
the head, with proneness to fall;” it also exchanged its <i>foolish</i> heritage for the similar yet shifting synonym<i> giddy</i>. By the time <i>dizzy</i> reached the Americas, it claimed a direct correspondence with
giddiness, a description that at times recalled the Old French word<i> fol</i> in terms of madness (“Dizzy;” <i>An American Dictionary of the English Language</i>).
Unlike its French cousin, <i>giddy</i>
retained a special quality from its Old English parent <i>gydig</i>, which meant “possessed” as well as mad and was “akin to Old
English<i> god</i>” (“Giddy”). Because of
its direct relationship with the English deity, <i>giddy</i> was a prime target for the slow process of amelioration
fueled by the Anglo-American religious revival known as the Great Awakening
that occurred in the early part of the eighteenth century and continued
sporadically for many years. <i>Giddy</i> would then take on a more positive
connotation of lighthearted silliness, frivolity, and euphoria (“Giddy”). <i>Dizzy</i> held fast to its connection with <i>giddy</i>, but even as <i>giddy </i>itself underwent a dramatic shift, <i>dizzy</i> was slow in shedding its negative association with madness.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: #060014; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"> Before <i>dizzy</i> could settle into a more stable
relationship with the new and improved <i>giddy</i>,
it had first to undergo a third shift in its array of negative uses. From
foolish and mad, <i>dizzy</i> earned a
reputation of mental instability, perhaps resulting from its association with
physical instability. The same religious movements that promoted the
amelioration of <i>giddy </i>were a likely
source for <i>dizzy</i>’s use as a referral
not only to physical and mental instability but to moral instability as well. <i>Dizzy</i> became an instant label for all
things startling or morally unsettling up until the turn of the twentieth
century. A Kansas newspaper, for example, reported in 1899 that “[m]any of the
local clergy … warned the church members … against a ‘Dizzy Blonde’ company
coming to one of the theaters soon.” <i>Dizzy
</i>was commonly coupled with <i>blonde</i>
until it was superseded by the phonetically similar slang adjective<i> ditzy</i>, which pays homage to <i>dizzy</i> by providing a home for its
original meaning of stupid or foolish, some seventy years after the publication
of this article.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: #060014; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"> <i>Dizzy</i> saw its American boom in the 1930s
and ‘40s. Popularized by trumpeting bebop pioneer Dizzy Gillespie and St. Louis
star pitcher Dizzy Dean, <i>dizzy</i>
championed the pages of admired news sources and local magazines across the
country (<i>TIME Magazine Corpus</i>). Though
the music and leisure associated with these American icons may have personified
the puritanical ideas of moral instability propagated by the Christian
Fundamentalist movement of the previous decade, the eventual absorption of both
the jazz movement and baseball by the mainstream American culture influenced
the renewed correlation between <i>dizzy</i>
and the now lighthearted and euphoric <i>giddy</i>.
<i>Dizzy</i>, in its ameliorated form,
retained a moderate usage through the drug-induced era of the 1960s, but it
never regained the prestige achieved just decades earlier (<i>TIME Magazine Corpus</i>).<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: #060014; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"> Since then, <i>dizzy</i> has moved toward a state of
hibernation similar to what it experienced following the Norman Invasion and
the introduction of the French loanword <i>fool</i>.
It has been confined for the most part to the realm of fiction, making rare
appearances in other written outlets and even fewer appearances in spoken
language (<i>Corpus of Contemporary American
English</i>). The word was cited just once in the transcripts of two hundred
hours of spoken English recorded by the English Language Institute at the
University of Michigan (<i>Michigan Corpus
of Academic Spoken English</i>). This is not an exception among English
speakers but appears to be the general trend; the same is true in the English
motherland, the United Kingdom (<i>BYU-BNC</i>).
Dizzy has outlived its slew of negative connotations and is now primarily
confined to the medical condition caused by an unsatisfactory amount of blood
reaching the brain, often as a result of a “sudden drop in … blood pressure or”
dehydration (“Dizziness”). It is frequently used in conjunction with the word <i>lightheaded</i>, which refers to the same
physiological phenomenon of unsteadiness, “loss of balance, or vertigo” (“Dizziness”).
The semantic narrowing that <i>dizzy</i> has
undergone in the later part of the twentieth century and into the twenty-first
century can perhaps be attributed to advancements in medical technology and
awareness and to the increased societal concern with health and wellbeing. The
overwhelming influence of the American Medical Association (AMA), the
pharmaceutical industry, and their corresponding lobby groups may also have
contributed to the prevalent use of <i>dizzy</i>
as a strictly medical term.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: #060014; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"> With its
continued narrowing, <i>dizzy</i> is left to
jockey for dominance over <i>lightheaded</i>,
a combination term used to describe similar or related medical symptoms
associated with a lack of blood flow to the brain. History has shown that when
two words compete for one denotative position, one word is often discarded for
the preferred other. <i>Dizzy</i> has been
unlucky in the past with its losing streak initiated by French bully <i>fool</i>. If history is any predictor of
future linguistic trends, <i>dizzy</i> does
not stand a good chance for survival. Because it was slow to ameliorate to the
degree of synonym <i>giddy</i> and has since
been uncomfortably narrowed to a descriptor of an unpleasant medical condition,
<i>dizzy</i>, once deemed a mad or foolish
acquaintance to the tongue, may easily be rejected or forgotten by English
speakers who favor words with less fickle definitions and more pleasant
associations. <i>Dizzy</i>, for all its
phonetic charm, may sadly become an English relic.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: #060014; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 16px; text-align: left;">¹All etymological information, definitions, and quotations used in the entirety of this document courtesy of the Oxford English Dictionary (OED) unless otherwise noted.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: #060014; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"> </span></p>
<p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: center;"><span style="color: #060014;">Works Cited<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-left: .5in; mso-pagination: widow-orphan lines-together; text-align: justify; text-autospace: none; text-indent: -.5in;"><i><span style="color: #060014;">BYU-BNC: British National Corpus</span></i><span style="color: #060014;">. Brigham Young University, n.d. Web. 22 Nov. 2009.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-left: .5in; mso-pagination: widow-orphan lines-together; text-align: justify; text-autospace: none; text-indent: -.5in;"><i><span style="color: #060014;">Corpus of Contemporary American English</span></i><span style="color: #060014;">. Brigham Young University, n.d. Web. 22 Nov. 2009.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-left: .5in; mso-pagination: widow-orphan lines-together; text-align: justify; text-autospace: none; text-indent: -.5in;"><span style="color: #060014;">“Dizziness.” <i>Medline Plus</i>. U.S.
National Library of Medicine, n.d. Web. 22 Nov. 2009.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-left: .5in; mso-pagination: widow-orphan lines-together; text-align: justify; text-autospace: none; text-indent: -.5in;"><span style="color: #060014;">“Dizzy.” <i>An American Dictionary of the
English Language</i>. Ed. Noah Webster. <i>Google Book Search</i>. Web. 22 Nov.
2009.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-left: .5in; mso-pagination: widow-orphan lines-together; text-align: justify; text-autospace: none; text-indent: -.5in;"><span style="color: #060014;">“Dizzy.” <i>Oxford English Dictionary Online</i>.
N.p., n.d. Web. 22 Nov. 2009.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-left: .5in; mso-pagination: widow-orphan lines-together; text-align: justify; text-autospace: none; text-indent: -.5in;"><span style="color: #060014;">“Giddy.” <i>Merriam-Webster Online Dictionary</i>.
N.p., n.d. Web. 22 Nov. 2009.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-left: .5in; mso-pagination: widow-orphan lines-together; text-align: justify; text-autospace: none; text-indent: -.5in;"><i><span style="color: #060014;">Michigan Corpus of Academic Spoken English</span></i><span style="color: #060014;">. English Language Institute at the University of Michigan,
n.d. Web. 22 Nov. 2009.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-left: .5in; mso-pagination: widow-orphan lines-together; text-align: justify; text-autospace: none; text-indent: -.5in;"><i><span style="color: #060014;">TIME Magazine Corpus</span></i><span style="color: #060014;">. Brigham Young University, n.d. Web. 22 Nov. 2009.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p><span style="color: #060014; font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; text-align: justify;"> </span> </p><p>
</p><p class="MsoFooter"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p><br /><p></p>Kathttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13911742245743775772noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8831004853237106995.post-52742187764231660622022-03-30T06:16:00.006+09:002022-03-30T06:17:30.287+09:00Sensual Terrorism: Re-Aestheticizing The White Ribbon<p> </p><p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span> </span>Haneke’s
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The White Ribbon</i> explores a series of
violent acts that occur in a remote, agricultural province of northern Germany.
The violence itself is hidden amidst a starkly contrasted landscape of
overwhelmingly bright farmland and ominously dark interiors. Past the initial
visible portrayal of crime within the village – a doctor’s premeditated
horseback riding accident, the vicious scything of the baron’s cabbages – the
actual enactment of crime, specifically that involving direct violence on
individuals within the community, is withheld, remaining unseen by audiences.
Rather than permitting viewers to witness incidents as they happen, Haneke
allows violence to manifest through a violence of and toward the senses, which
is experienced both by audiences and characters within the film.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Sensual distortion for movie
watchers occurs continuously throughout the film through disorienting camera
angles, lighting, etc. Characters too risk sensual danger. Following his riding
accident via a mysteriously appearing wire, the village’s doctor returns from
an extended hospital stay with the use of one hand marred by a sling
restricting his injured arm. As is characteristic of the larger population of
parental figures in the village, the doctor’s subjection to violence – through
the unexplained attack against him – transforms into a potential for further
violence that materializes in his relationship with his children. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This violent tendency reaches a pinnacle in
the second half of the film. As the unfortunate incidents multiply and tensions
build within the community, familial relations are expounded upon in hauntingly
restrained scenes. In the doctor’s house, night reveals a blackened interior in
which the silhouette of the doctor’s youngest child, Rudolph, creaks down the
stairs into an almost completely unlit hallway in search of his sister, Anni. Both
Rudi and the audience are entirely dependent on sound in this brief sequence.
The camera pans short distances in the hallway, seemingly following Rudi on his
search, but the child wanders beyond the frame, leaving only the echoes of his
childish cries to alert viewers that he will return. Similarly, Rudi cannot <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">see </i>his sister in the dark house and
thus relies on her to answer his call. What he receives instead is a muffled
sort of cry from a room through which he has not padded blindly. Sound in this
instance transforms from the possible reassurance that Rudi anticipates into
something threatening – a potential for violence committed against both the
ears and eyes.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">Upon
hearing the sound, Rudi turns and descends the stairs he has once again climbed
on his defeated journey back to bed. As he moves toward the sound, he is
plunged into complete darkness for several long seconds in which the audience
is left without so much as the child’s hazy silhouette to guide them. The
abrupt absence of visual information – even in a sequence that has already
offered so little – is disorienting and portends an even greater visual
violence upon the revelation of a lighted room via the opening of the door that
Rudi presumably fumbles for in the dark.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">What
is revealed is a brightly lit Anni dressed in tears and a nightie and the
doctor with his back turned to the door, both in positions that suggest a
physical furthering of the sexual relationship the midwife first mentions
earlier in the film. The relative whiteness of the room, with its preconceived
notions of innocence or purity, should convey a relief from the darkness but
instead implicates an incorrect visual registry; the room is not white but is
instead distorted by a monochromatic style choice and relativity to the
blackness of the hall. Continuing in the pattern Haneke constructs early in the
film, the sexual violence that the doctor inflicts upon his daughter is not
directly revealed to audiences but is instead kept literally behind doors.
Visibly, the violence becomes manifested in terms of sensual distortion and
damage. Rudi notes that his sister is crying – a notable, if natural,
distortion of vision – to which Anni concocts an explanation revolving around
the piercing – or, rather, re-piercing – of her ears. Her own experience of
sexual violence thus becomes routed through aural deterioration – the literal
penetration of sound receptacles. Anni validates her story through the
introduction of details concerning her mother’s earrings, which she will
receive for the Whitsun festival, a summer celebration of “White Sunday” that
nicely reflects the film’s overarching concerns with whiteness and its relation
to innocence. That her aural damage results – even through a lie – in the
reception of her mother’s heirloom suggests that Anni has fully adopted her
mother’s sexual burden in relation to her father.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">Anni
and her father both discuss the incident in terms of beauty. The doctor
dismissively equates beauty and suffering in a sentiment that reflects the
film’s overall goals. Anni, in her discussion with Rudi, notes that the
earrings she will be receiving for White Sunday are the <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">pretty</i> ones. She uses the German word <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">schön </i>to describe the earrings, which generally connotes goodness
or aesthetic pleasantness. This ironic juxtaposition of beauty and violence
results in a wildly uncomfortable scene with a disconnect between the visual
discomfort of the father-daughter relations and the aural beauty suggested in
Anni’s manufactured tale. The discord of the scene is certainly not lost on
audiences, and it also seems to resonate with Rudi. The scene ends with a close-up
of his tear-stricken face. Tears as a form of sensual damage imply that Rudi
has been similarly harmed by the scene and thus holds within him the potential
for future violence, the shared fact of which gives the film its ultimate
eeriness.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">Scenes
like this contrast the visual beauty of the countryside and the aural beauty of
the film’s brief musical interludes – Schubert and angelic hymns. The scene is
bookended by Klara’s – the pastor’s eldest child – breakdown; she faints under
the pressure of her father’s verbal devaluation of her innocence and then stabs
her father’s bird with scissors immediately following that last close-up of
Rudi’s sad face. Klara in this way becomes representative of the collective
potential for violence shared by all of the children in the village. The
startling juxtaposition of this violent impetus and traditional aesthetic
beauty drives the film into notions of terrorism, suggesting that violence and
beauty both contain and reflect seeds of one another. Sensual damage and
distortion, even through the lens of the traditionalized aesthetics of natural
beauty and familial hierarchy, are ultimately the cause of the unspeakable
crimes committed in the village and, by extension, the international war that
ends the film.<o:p></o:p></span></p>Kathttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13911742245743775772noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8831004853237106995.post-77295990755291374992022-03-23T00:35:00.001+09:002022-03-23T00:36:02.953+09:00Creating the Queer Spectrum: History, Sexuality, and Queerness in Several Texts<p> </p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>In constructing a history of
sexuality, the introduction of queer scholarship has created a spectrum of
ideological centers extending beyond what was provided by previous studies
emphasizing the gay and/or lesbian identity. This marked extension arguably
began with the publication and English translation of Michel Foucault’s <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">History of Sexuality, v. 1</i> (1978) and
continued to expand with the work of Robert J. Corber and Stephen Velocchi as
well as other more radically queer scholars and scholarship. Now, the
consideration of texts that are not easily reduced to either strictly queer
studies or gay and/or lesbian studies – such as George Chauncey’s <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Gay New York</i> (1994) and Judith
Halberstam’s <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">In a Queer Time and Place</i>
(2005) – works to create a fuller conceptualization of sexuality as a
historical phenomenon though, notably, not without forgoing their own unique
sets of problems and limitations. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>In their introduction to <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Queer Studies: An Interdisciplinary Reader</i>
(2003), Corber and Velocchi set out to explain queerness in relation to other
studies of gender, sexuality, and identity. What they refer to as a “transform[ation
of] the study of gender and sexuality” (1) takes place through critical
attention to sexual or gender practices that “cannot be reduced to the
categories of either homosexuality or heterosexuality” (1). Through these
analyses, Corber and Velocchi argue, queer scholars “have shown that desires,
identities, and practices do not always line up neatly” (1). Queer studies,
they note, is in part a reaction to gay and/or lesbian studies that rely on a
fixed rather than fluid identity, even if it is one constructed through
performance, as the basis of their arguments and political engagement. Queer
scholars work to problematize the notion of the “unified, coherent, and
self-determining” (3) subject and thus the relationship between heterosexuality
and its aberrant “other” by “challenging the binary organization of sexuality”
(2).<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>This split between the identified
homosexual as subject and the fluid, non-heteronormative unit as subject can be
attributed to the poststructuralist writings of Michel Foucault. In “The
Perverse Implantation,” a chapter from his <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">History
of Sexuality, v. 1</i>, Foucault presents a sexual historiography centered on
power, pleasure, and the creation of a multiplicity of identities through the
interplay of these societal elements. “The Perverse Implantation” traces the
historical discourse of sexuality from one that took the married couple as its
center to one that focused on “a dispersion of sexualities, a strengthening of
their disparate forms, a multiple implantation of ‘perversions’…[and the]
initiat[ion of] sexual heterogeneities” (37) wherein non-heteronormative
sexualities are not repressed but rather recognized and brought into an
othering and thereby heteronormative-supporting discourse through a continual
process of power enacted. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>In this formula, power is not just
added to the discussion of identity; it is the root of the discourse that creates
and controls identity and the standards by which that identity is compared and
for which that identity becomes reinforcement. In this vein, queer scholars
refute identity as anything other than “an ideological fiction that worked to conceal,
and thereby perpetuate, modern relations of power” (Corber and Velocchi 3). Following
Foucault, Corber and Velocchi explain power as “discursive in nature and
operat[ing] through the internalization of norms” (10), thereby creating
subjects who “become self-regulating … or subjects who police their own
behavior so they will appear ‘normal’” (11). This is not a wholly satisfying
analysis of identity creation as it tends to privilege discourse while ignoring
the work of societal institutions, but queerness as concept seems to glaze over
this fault by rejecting signified identity in any of its constructs, discursive
or institutional. By problematizing identity, queer scholarship does not
completely transform, as Corber and Velocchi claim, the work of gay and/or
lesbian scholarship just as it does not transform the work of Foucault; rather
it extends laterally the textual conversation to account for previously
unaccounted for problem areas in the heteronormative/other binary and the
coercion toward identity (see Foucault’s discussion on “the homosexual [as]
species” [43]). <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>If one were then to consider a
spectrum of queerness and queer writings bookended on one side by extreme
queerness – a non-heteronormative discussion of gender or sexual acts with
consideration of discursive power but no reduction to a fixed identity outside
of “queer,” which itself implies a reactionary fluidity – and on the other by a
strict heterosexual/homosexual binary in which both identities are fixed in
relation to one another, Chauncey’s <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Gay
New York</i> might fall somewhere betwixt the two. If one takes, as example,
the chapter “Trade, Wolves, and the Boundaries of Normal Manhood,” one will
find both the problematization akin to queerness and more traditional reliance
on identity in the consideration of the queer sexual activity that took place
in twentieth century New York. Chauncey describes men who “believed their
sexual activity with other men did not mean they were homosexual so long as
they restricted that behavior to the ‘masculine’ role” (71) and who used their
“ability to dominate [both men and women] as evidence of [their] <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">relative</i> virility compared to other
men’s” (80). While the identity of these men in question remained largely
within the realms of heterosexuality – that is, it was not defined either
through self-identification with behavior or through and by societal discourse
related to that behavior, as queer theorists would have it – the relative
fluidity of their identity – being able to smoothly transition between
heterosexual and homosexual encounters – is still largely prescribed in terms
of traditional gender identity, a move which queer scholars would reject. This
isn’t to say that Chauncey’s historical discussion of sexuality is nullified;
rather, the text is able to combine elements from both ends of the queer
spectrum in order to inform its review of the sexuality of its time.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Similarly, Halberstam’s <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">In a Queer Time and Place</i> fluctuates
between notions of queerness and a reliance on “the homosexual” as identity. In
the chapter “What’s that Smell?” Halberstam seems to steer closer in line with
the writings of Foucault, defining mainstream culture as “the process by which
subcultures are <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">both</i> recognized and
absorbed, mostly for the profit of large media conglomerates” (156) and noting
that “most of the interest directed by mainstream media at subcultures is
voyeuristic and predatory” (157). What is largely missing from this discussion
is the use of discursive power to manipulate and control the limits of these
subcultures – e.g. drag kings/queens and the punk rock scene – in order to
reinforce the dominance of heteronormative sexual culture. However, the overall
arch of Halberstam’s content falls outside of what would traditionally be
considered gay and/or lesbian, thus making this text largely queer. The
flipside to this is, of course, that a discussion of this queer content <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">as </i>subculture relies entirely on the
fixed or semi-fixed forms of interpersonal and societal identification that
queerness rejects. Like Chauncey, Halberstam creates a text that, while not
entirely queer or gay and/or lesbian, is in a way more complex than either of
those two schools of thought alone would allow, specifically in her further
complication of the discourse by adding the temporal element of queer time.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>As these texts show, there are both
advantages and disadvantages to adopting notions of queerness or homosexual
identity within a text. Vacillating too close to extreme queerness may allow a
text to avoid falling into the traditional discursive binaries upheld in
Foucault’s power model but may also ignore the politicized reality of fixed and
semi-fixed identity as inevitable construct in contemporary society. As extreme
queerness is forever fluid and reactionary, it can ultimately work against any
significant socio-political change for fear of submitting to power/pleasure
hierarchies. Conversely, lingering too close to the other end of the spectrum
can cause a text to be largely reductionist, falling into an othering binary
that ultimately reinforces the dominance of the dominant sexual class. In terms
of constructing a history of sexuality that successfully circumnavigates all of
these pitfalls, one should strive to implement elements from both sides of the
queer spectrum while accepting the limitations of both in order to achieve an
acceptably problematized while still politically mobile discourse that resists
the omnipresence of heteronormativity in contemporary culture.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;">Bibliography</span><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: .5in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in; margin: 0in 0in 0in 0.5in; text-align: justify; text-indent: -0.5in;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;">Chauncey, George. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Gay New
York: Gender, Urban Culture and the Making of the Gay Male World 1890-1940</i>.
New York, NY: Basic Books, 1994.</span><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: .5in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in; margin: 0in 0in 0in 0.5in; text-align: justify; text-indent: -0.5in;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;"> </span><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: .5in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in; margin: 0in 0in 0in 0.5in; text-align: justify; text-indent: -0.5in;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;">Corber, Robert J., and Stephen Velocchi. "Introduction."
2003. In <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Queer Studies: An
Interdisciplinary Reader</i>. N.p.: n.p., 2003.</span><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: .5in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in; margin: 0in 0in 0in 0.5in; text-align: justify; text-indent: -0.5in;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;"> </span><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: .5in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in; margin: 0in 0in 0in 0.5in; text-align: justify; text-indent: -0.5in;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;">Foucault, Michel. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The
History of Sexuality</i>. Vol. 1. New York, NY: Vintage, 1978.</span><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: .5in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in; margin: 0in 0in 0in 0.5in; text-align: justify; text-indent: -0.5in;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;"> </span><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: .5in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in; margin: 0in 0in 0in 0.5in; text-align: justify; text-indent: -0.5in;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;">Halberstam, Judith. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">In a
Queer Time and Place</i>. New York, NY: New York University Press, 2005.</span><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: .5in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in; margin: 0in 0in 0in 0.5in; text-align: justify; text-indent: -0.5in;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;"> </span><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>Kathttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13911742245743775772noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8831004853237106995.post-14812327321544988892022-03-16T11:00:00.002+09:002022-03-16T11:00:17.384+09:00The Saddest Sex: Love and Gender in The Good Soldier<p align="center" class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: center;"><br /></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"> Ford Madox Ford’s <i>The Good Soldier</i>¹<i> </i>challenges Victorian practices on multiple fronts. His
retrospective exploration of two interconnected yet failing marriages, revealed
in a haphazard fashion by luckless narrator John Dowell, offers a pointed
critique of the evolution of love and marriage into the modern era while still
within the strict framework of a social and religious superego. In the tumult
of hesitant modernization, scandal and repentance, and the reexamination of
past relationships, love, though premised as a desperate undercurrent cementing
the relationships between each of Ford’s characters, becomes almost an
afterthought. What love is achieved in <i>The
Good Soldier</i> is done so through the dissolution of traditional gender
boundaries established by a rusting Victorian conventionalism.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"> The Dowells, John and Florence, are
geographically distanced from Victorian gender politics by their American
heritage, but it is their arrival into Europe’s upper crust society that forces
the first noticeable schism from traditional gender roles. Florence, who is
supposedly a product of sexless New England, allegedly develops a heart
condition that threatens excitement at the risk of fatality; she must resign
herself to a quiet existence and is not, under any circumstances, “to think of
love” (21). This freedom to disregard thoughts of love – or rather the
contractual manifestation of love, her marriage – allows Florence to move in
and out of the customary laws of womanhood according to her fancy. Her sexual
prowess, which rivals that of her male counterparts, is an early clue, though
unbeknownst to her husband, of this gender transgression. Florence is driven
primarily by basic desire, whether through her desire for social status or her
unchecked sexual desire for men other than her husband. Her particular breed of
desire, which she contrives to represent as a physical malformation of the
heart, is more often than not associated with male characters, especially in
terms of its raw physicality. Her husband, who is very much her opposite,
describes himself as being “no doubt like every other man; only, probably
because of [his] American origin [he is] fainter” (272). Dowell’s life is
strictly that “of the sedulous, strained nurse” forced to care for his
allegedly ailing wife (12). In a comic role reversal, Dowell becomes the very
image of the sexless New Englander that his wife has abandoned. Still, he
excels in the traditionally female role of devoted nurse and does not once
exhibit any sexual desire over the course of the novel. His self-proclaimed
status as a sort of Everyman, though admittedly less pronounced because of his
American ancestry, suggests that all men – specifically non-American men or, in
this case, Englishmen – contain the capacity for the ready fulfillment of the
conventionally feminine role of caregiver.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"> Edward Ashburnham, the novel’s
resident heartthrob, is “the normal man” and therefore well-equipped to fill
such a role (274). Through his so-called sentimentalism, Edward becomes the
unequivocal mother figure, offering compassion, warmth, and nurturing through
the misplaced mechanism of his still present maleness. Sex is, for Edward, not
an act of brute passion as it is for male-inspired characters like Florence,
but rather a symbol of selfless generosity comparable to the protective
tendering of his tenants in the English countryside. It is this gender
misplacement – this outward exhibition of femininity through masculine
sexuality – that draws the most direct form of social reproach within the novel.
It is his wife Leonora Ashburnham who recognizes the implications of the public
revelation and scorn of her husband’s behavior and, in order to prevent social
complications, reacts by adopting a more masculine role within their marriage. She
assumes both the role of financier of their English estate, a man’s job by
English legal standards, and the role of decision maker for the couple as a
whole, a man’s job by English social standards. Despite her plunge into the
traditionally male end of marriage duties, Leonora tends to favor the
pre-existing social and gender establishments and reverts to masculinity only
as a way of maintaining a gender balance within her marriage – just as Dowell
is unconsciously forced to do in his. In both cases, it is this frenzied
maintenance of the ratio of male to female traits as prescribed by Victorian
gender standards rather than the mutual acceptance of the cross-gender
similarities inherent in both male and female partners that precipitates the
eventual ruin of both the Dowell and Ashburnham marriages.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"> The only form of love that is
sustained throughout the novel is that of Dowell for Edward. From the first,
Dowell idealizes Edward as the best sort of man, one who, as has been here
illustrated, displays a natural and comfortable penchant for femininity.
Regardless of his wife’s involvement, Dowell comes to envy Edward’s sexual
excursions, what can only be described as a result of Edward’s natural and
comfortable masculinity. Thus Edward’s ultimate attraction lies in his skillful
interconnection of feminine <i>goodness</i>
and the art of masculine <i>soldiering</i>. Following
Edward’s culturally inappropriate attachment to their ward, Nancy Rufford, Leonora,
as an embodiment of existing socially-imposed gender policies, encourages the
self-enacted repression of Edward’s evolved bi-gender state. It is this
repression that eventually kills him. The saddest story is, of course, the
Victorian refusal to abolish its antiquated gender structure and the
evolutionary backlash associated therewith. For Dowell, the realization of his
own sentimentalism, a worse crime in Victorian society’s strict patriarchy than
a woman’s fulfillment of masculine qualities, is a doomsday prophecy for a life
of quiet servitude to women who do not love him, a bizarre Victorian punishment
for his failure to adhere to its model of acceptable masculinity. In this way,
Dowell must live out his own saddest story time and again with the memory of
the unbearably evolved Edward as guide.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p><br /></p><p></p><p class="MsoFooter"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">¹All
references and direct quotations herein courtesy of the Oxford edition of Ford
Madox Ford’s <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The Good Soldier</i>,
reissued in 2008.</span><o:p></o:p></p><br /><p></p>Kathttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13911742245743775772noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8831004853237106995.post-60253105482000440232022-03-08T00:38:00.006+09:002023-02-12T08:21:04.043+09:00Off Dead Center: On Just War Theory<p><br /></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>The history of humankind as a
single, worldwide civilization has shown an overwhelming, though arguably
unnatural, propensity for war. War’s undeniable effects on all involved parties
and on the planet itself have devastated generations and offset entire
ecosystems. Still, despite its associated atrocities, war is often considered
necessary or inevitable under certain conditions. In an attempt to impose
morality on an otherwise degenerate institution, war theorists have carefully
drafted and redrafted a specific standard for the use of war as a political
strategy. One such response, Just War Theory (JWT), has circulated for
centuries and remains a leading go-to list for war proponents and adversaries
alike. This theory, which presupposes that a just war can exist on the basis of
set criteria, has been hailed as a working tribute to negative conceptions of
peace but has been pointedly criticized for its failure to maintain
applicability in the midst of modern warfare. Though its principles appear to
be universally sound, Just War Theory is increasingly disregarded as a
legitimate deterrent of war.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>JWT presents a two-part measurement
system in order to stipulate both the circumstances under which war is
acceptable and how war is to be carried out should it be deemed as such. The
initial half of the theory “addresses issues pertaining to the start of the
war[,]” for which it takes the Latin name <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">jus
ad bellum</i> (Fotion 10). The antebellum phase catalogues six principles
designed to prevent the onset of war; it requires nation groups considering war
to provide just cause, make a “series of efforts to avoid war[,]” reasonably
conjecture that the benefits of going to war “definitely outweigh the
costs[,]”evaluate the likelihood of success, maintain the right intentions, and
legitimately authorize war before releasing the hounds (Fotion 19-20). The
second phase in this theory, termed <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">jus
in bello</i>, is again subdivided into two parts; the first “distinguishes
between applying excessive and overwhelming force” while the second “demands
that those who participate in war should distinguish between legitimate targets
and non-legitimate targets” (Fotion 21-22). In most cases, all of these
requirements, both before and during a war, must be satisfied in order for that
war to be regarded as just.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Because JWT is devised to limit war
in number and degree, it most readily complies with notions of negative peace,
a term frequently used “to refer to the absence of war” (Wenden 3).
Contemporary interpretations of the purpose of negative peace broaden this
definition to include all forms of direct violence, preferring instead all
“physical injuries and the infliction of pain that is caused by a specific
person” to the implications of war alone (Jeong 19). Both definitions pinpoint
violence as a barbed restriction of peace. Peace theorists suggest a wide array
of manners in which to address the problem of direct violence and to move
toward an attainment, at least in part, of negative peace. At the forefront of
these approaches is the “prevention and elimination of manifest … violence” by
way of the resolution of “differences through negotiation or mediation rather
than resorting to physical force” (Jeong 24). JWT accommodates this need with
its principle of last resort, which demands that steps be taken toward
remediation between disconcerted parties before war is considered as a viable
option. JWT is also compatible with the fact that “negative peace policies may
focus on a present, short or near future term” (Jeong 24). Likewise, JWT’s just
cause principle allows for preemptive strikes to prevent near future attacks as
well as for defensive measures against presently ongoing or recent attacks on
one’s own nation or on an ally nation. These complementary elements have
allowed JWT to maintain a forceful presence among relevant negative peace
policies in spite of the dramatic shifts in the nature of warfare in the years
since the theory gained ground.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Though Just War Theory is supported
by many international organizations, there is no supervisory body that enforces
its usage or investigates claims that its principles have been satisfied. As
such, those holding legitimate authority to declare war may do so with or
without the go-ahead from JWT. Though international reproach may prove to be a
consequence, war flamed or fought with subtle or flagrant disregard to one or
more of JWT’s guiding principles has and will continue to occur. The United
States, a supposed nation-advocate of JWT, is one such offender. The just cause
principle, with the power to make or break a potential war, explicitly details
cases in which war may be justified. These reasons include the defense of one’s
own nation or an ally nation and the defense of a group subjected to genocide
or chaos resulting from an ineffective government; preemptive attacks are also
permissible within a narrow window (Fotion 10-13). In 2003, the United States
did not have just cause for engaging in a war in Iraq.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Iraq “was not an aggressor” toward the U.S.
or any ally nation, nor “at that time was Iraq engaged in crimes against
humanity” (Fotion 69). With few just options remaining, charges were made that
the manufacture of weapons in Iraq capable of widespread damage warranted a
preemptive strike, but this too fell short:<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 200%; margin-left: .5in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">[There
was no] nation in a position to argue that it had just cause to attack because
Iraq possessed weapons of mass destruction. As it turned out, no such weapons
were found prior to the war and after the invasion. But even if there had been
such weapons, it was clear that Iraqis were not about to use them. . . No one
believed that Iraq was in position to start a major war in 2003 or 2004, so no
nation or group of nations could claim that it was justified in invading Iraq
as an act of preemption. Had the weapons been there, a preventive reason could
have been given for the attack. (Fotion 69)<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Just
War Theory makes careful distinction between preemptive and preventive action;
the latter, a strike “designed to stop an expected enemy attack in the distant
future” as opposed to the immediacy involved in preemptive measures, is
strictly prohibited under JWT (Fotion 13). In this situation, the United States
did not have just cause to engage in military conflict in Iraq, which, in turn,
calls into question the <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">jus ad bellum</i>
principle of good intentions. Because preventive strikes are disallowed in a
just war, a preventive rationale would not serve to lessen America’s role as
aggressor in terms of its relationship with Iraq. Here Just War Theory was not
adequately employed by American war-authorizing bodies, if employed at all.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">The
war in Iraq also provides ample evidence of America’s ill-use of Just War Theory
in combat. In November of 2005, a “bomb planted in the roadside in Haditha,
Iraq killed [one] marine and injured [two] others. In the following hours
marines killed [twenty-four] Iraqi men, women and children” who lived along the
residential street by which the bomb was planted (<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Battle for Haditha</i>). In the effort to overtake insurgents
responsible for triggering the lethal detonation, marines failed to comply with
the principle of discrimination, arguably the most important of JWT’s war
standards. This principle incorporates the general understanding that “those
who work as and for civilians – mothers, children, retired people, religious
leaders and medical personnel – are not legitimate targets” as “members of a
military establishment” might be (Fotion 22). The incident at Haditha saw
noncombatants, including women and children, gunned down in their own homes. Participating
marines displayed a relentless indifference toward the principle of
discrimination, and officers who oversaw the massacre and later sought to
reward the marines for their actions merely reinforced this indifference. It
was only after a group of surviving residents leaked the story to an American
broadcasting company that the marines were rebuked for their grotesque behavior
(<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Battle for Haditha</i>). Many similar
episodes have brought unwanted international attention on American action in
Iraq, and recent attempts have been made to improve the military’s public
image, specifically through the release of military recordings of instances
where discrimination was practiced with beneficial results. Whether or not this
proves that the military has undergone actual efforts to improve its compliance
with Just War Theory is yet to be seen.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Reasons
for permanently retiring Just War Theory are greater than ever for the United
States. Modern warfare is, more often than not, shaped by self-interest and a
victory-at-all-costs mentality, especially with domestically unpopular wars
like that in Iraq. The abandonment of war-time morality, artificial or
otherwise, is ironically well-suited to the spread of democratic values. Additionally,
the demographics of war are shifting in such a way that JWT may no longer
suffice; whereas nation groups fighting for political power or territory have
traditionally dominated international warfronts, new trends continue to paint
an image of hostility where non-nation groups wage war over natural resources,
such as oil and water. Future populations may find little or no benefit in a
theory that fails to acknowledge the survival of a culture or civilization as a
means for or faculty of war. As it stands, JWT faces further devaluation by
course of the American regard for controversy, subjectivity, and partisan
manipulation. The continued inheritance of war culture on an international
scale threatens to increase the theory’s already problematic plasticity, making
war more accessible and moral justifications obsolete. Still, Just War Theory
will serve as a landmark in the evolution of war history, just as ethical codes
have always supplied a better understanding of societies long asleep.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-left: .5in; text-align: center; text-indent: -.5in;">Works Cited<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-left: .5in; mso-pagination: widow-orphan lines-together; text-align: justify; text-autospace: none; text-indent: -.5in;"><i>Battle for Haditha</i>. Nick Broomfield. Channel Four Films, 2008.
Film.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-left: .5in; mso-pagination: widow-orphan lines-together; text-align: justify; text-autospace: none; text-indent: -.5in;">Fotion, Nicholas. <i>War & Ethics: A New Just War Theory</i>. London:
Continuum, 2007. N. pag. Print.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-left: .5in; mso-pagination: widow-orphan lines-together; text-align: justify; text-autospace: none; text-indent: -.5in;">Jeong, Ho-Won. <i>Peace and Conflict: An Introduction</i>. N.p.: Ashgate,
n.d. N. pag. Print.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-left: .5in; mso-pagination: widow-orphan lines-together; text-align: justify; text-autospace: none; text-indent: -.5in;">Wenden, Anita L. “Defining Peace: Perspectives from Peace Research.”
Introduction. <i>Language and Peace</i>. Ed. Christina Schaffner and Anita L.
Wenden. N.p.: Hardwood Academic, n.d. 3-15. Print.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>Kathttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13911742245743775772noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8831004853237106995.post-73281520350269170692022-03-02T01:27:00.000+09:002022-03-02T01:27:07.722+09:00Sanctifying the Son: Two-Fold Hagiography in Campobello’s Cartucho<p></p><p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">In
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Cartucho</i>, Nellie Campobello recreates
the world of the Mexican Revolution, seen, as it were, through a child’s eyes. Its
non-linear sampling of abbreviated stories, called <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">estampas</i>, mirrors the experience of revolution itself, violently
moving the reader through scenes of sometimes sentimentalized, always
unmitigated violence. Unlike its contemporaries, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Cartucho</i> focuses primarily on the events surrounding the
revolutionary general Pancho Villa and his men, who, while regionally
championed, were largely villainized by dissenting power figures and the
resulting literature of the period. Having been raised during the revolution in
a family and region that viewed Villa as hero rather than villain, Campobello
naturally conditions her text to redeem the revolutionary on a national scale.
However, Villa as character within <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Cartucho</i>,
while giving readers a more humanistic perspective of Villa the man, cannot
achieve the national sainthood she deems worthy of him. To accomplish this,
Campobello creates a literary double for Villa in the figure of Martín López,
who becomes sanctified through the course of the narrative and thus grants that
same sanctity to Villa, ultimately redeeming him as a national figure.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Campobello
prefaces her collection of tales with a dedication to her mother, who “gave
[her] the gift of true stories in a country where legend is invented,” thus
immediately establishing a demarcation between fact and myth and aligning
herself and the stories to follow firmly on the side of the former (4). Without
needing access to the secondary texts in which Campobello argues for the
absolute truth of her storytelling, the <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Cartucho
</i>reader is unconsciously pacified within the realm of the real before the story
even begins. This is not to any light credit. What Campobello will ultimately
ask of readers is conversion – that when the philosopher José Ruiz concludes
that we are all <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">cartuchos</i>, readers
too will be self-implicated – which requires an unequivocal foundation in
assertive truth (6). If the reader can agree to the memoir’s obligation not to
lie, he is more likely to believe that the characters that appear within the
text are themselves true representations innocently encountered rather than
having been manufactured through fiction.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">National
edification in terms of Villa’s legacy begins through the structure of the text
itself. Campobello places herself and her family within the narrative
immediately, creating that memoirization effect that validates both her ability
to factually present the events of the narrative and the credibility of that
narrative. Before Villa, man or icon, makes his textual debut, Campobello
devotes a brief introductory section, “Men of the North,” to describing the first
and second-hand experiences of childhood under revolutionary reign. “Men of the
North” accomplishes the authorial familiarization that will ground and
essentially re-ground the character deification that occurs in the remainder of
the text. At the risk of letting Villa and his gang fall victim to what may
appear to be only childish idealization, Campobello grows her heroes in the
context of true childhood experience re-examined and remembered
post-maturation. As her dedication insists, she offers documentary over legend,
creating an almost truer than true life world into which the reader may enter
and learn without the peril of false fact, itself a manner of violence.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">With
this reader relationship established, Campobello can begin her more important
task of reconciling the two Villas – the grassroots glory-figure and the nationally
defamed revolutionary – or rather performing a great Villa switcheroo. She does
this largely anecdotally, painting pocket-sized portraits of Villa in action as
one might see him newly crimeless on a candle’s face or palm-open in benevolent
mercy atop a stack of prayer cards. However, while the collection of
Villa-driven <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">estampas</i> does work to
humanize him, creating a more venerable man for history’s sake, they in
themselves cannot wholly transform Villa from exiled regionalist to national saint,
as Campobello ostensibly intends. Take, as example, one of Villa’s earliest
starring roles among the <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Cartucho</i>
stories:<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 200%; margin-left: .5in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">The
train going from Mexico City to Juárez takes on watermelons in Santa Rosalía.
General Villa knew this and had told his men about it. They were going to stop
the train; they were thirsty and they needed the watermelons. So they rode up
to the tracks and, to the cry of “Viva Villa!” they stopped the convoy. Villa
shouted to his boys, “Unload every last watermelon, and then let the train go
on!” All the passengers were surprised to find out that those men wanted
nothing else. (69)<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">In
this passage, Villa and his gang are certainly humanized as they perform a
would-be military task with the simple motivation of overcoming their thirst,
but this is hardly a saintly experience. That the train’s passengers are
surprised at the revolutionaries wanting nothing more of them – or, presumably,
not killing them off – suggests more about the terror of the revolution on the
whole rather than the saintly mercy of Villa. Meanwhile, this <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">estampa</i> remains within the previously
established boundaries of memoir – Campobello writes that this happening is
something “Mama said” – which is in itself a distinctly human and humanizing
genre within the literary canon (69). To bless Villa with sainthood, the text must
shift, breaking from this pattern of recorded anecdotal niceties.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">The
ultimate consecration of Villa occurs doubly through the introduction, pseudo-sanctification,
and martyrdom of a second figure within the text, Martín López. López is an
almost baffling figure for the larger <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Cartucho
</i>text. In a collection of dozens of passing names – men of the revolution
who appear long enough to be killed and are gone from the story forever – López
reappears nearly as often as Villa does. He journeys through the text from one <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">estampa</i> to another, finally moving
toward a catastrophic, belabored death that dominates the end of the
collection. This journey begins in the second section of the book, “The
Executed,” which aptly catalogues a variety of war-related killings by way of
direct experience or communal myth-making. When the reader meets López, it is
not through his own execution, as happens with most of the characters in this
section, but through the death of his brother, Pablo:<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 200%; margin-left: .5in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Everyone
had something to say about that execution. Mama said some even cried for
Pablito. She didn’t actually see it because she was in Parral. Martín told her
all about it. He cried a lot and told her that “he wanted to die just like his
brother Pablito, real brave, a real man.” <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 200%; margin-left: .5in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Pablito
López had ordered some Americans shot one day. “Don’t shoot them,” some men
told him. “Can’t you see they’re Americans?”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 200%; margin-left: .5in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">The
young general, laughing to himself like a boy they were trying to scare, said
to them, “Well, until we know if they’re apples or pears, charge them up to
me.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 200%; margin-left: .5in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">And
then and there the Americans were shot. (44)<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">In
this section, Pablo has all the necessary qualities of the uniquely Mexican
hero. His execution has “everyone” talking, suggesting the importance of the
death on a national platform, and, more significantly, he is not scared off by
the assertion of Americanness. There is no justification provided in this
telling for why the Americans are ordered to be shot though most of the
executions in this section are contextualized within the revolution, further
suggesting that their status as Americans is enough to warrant killing them.
Pablo is warned by “some men” that pardon should be granted based on this
citizenship alone, but Pablo does not shy away from the previously decided upon
task, denying his place as either a U.S. military ally or pawn while
simultaneously refusing to live in fear of the great U.S., in this case
reactionary, force. This inherent self-separating from “Americanness” – just as
Villa will effectively do upon raiding U.S. territory – makes Pablo all the
more definitively Mexican.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>This is significant in that it
predicates the actions and character development of brother Martín and, by
extension, Villa. The story of the execution of the Americans, the burning of
the U.S. town, and the consequential pursuit and execution of Pablo undertaken
by Carranza, eventual enemy of Villa acting as Mexican representative of U.S.
outrage, is twice-filtered through Campobello’s mother and then through
Campobello herself, but it originates, beyond historical occurrence, with
Martín. Thus the importance of this <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">estampa</i>
is a kind of self-signification. That Martín López acts as original storyteller
here indicates his conscious or unconscious recognition of the textual
significance previously established – that which grants Pablo Mexican heroic
status. As brother to the fallen Pablo, López is best qualified to act under
the weight of his brother’s legacy.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>The story of Pablo’s death is oddly
repeated in a second <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">estampa</i> at the
tail end of this second section. In this retelling, Campobello allows the
mourning Martín to speak for himself on the subject:<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 200%; margin-left: .5in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">My
brother was a real man. Can’t you see how he’s laughing? I have to die like
him. He taught me how Villistas should die. In this one, he’s about to be shot.
See how many people came to see him die? Look, señora, look, here he is dead!
When will I have the chance to die like him? (54)<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">The
“how” of how a <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">villista</i> should die in
this case is not just through bravery but, more importantly, without the presence
of American onlookers, as Pablo is noted for having sent away an American from
the crowd gathered to witness his execution (45). In this second Pablo-driven <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">estampa</i>, Martín confirms his own
adoption of his brother’s legacy and begins his ascension to national sainthood
through the recognition of the disavowal of Americanness as the means by which
this is achieved. The warning offered by Campobello’s mother at the end of the <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">estampa </i>that López should not be taken
prisoner foreshadows his dramatic fall to come.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>By the time López reappears, he
seems to have achieved that hero status. The final four <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">estampas</i> of the book are dedicated to consecrating his death as a
martyr figure, beginning with the “words of a poet of the people who
spontaneously narrated to [Campobello] the death[:]”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 200%; margin-left: .5in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">López
was shot at the hacienda called La Labor, and he died upon reaching Las Cruces.
It was immediately known that Villa’s second-in-command was dead. A few days
later, Carranza’s men arrived and disinterred his body. They wanted to see if
it really was Martín Lopez. They feared him so much that when they took him out
of the ground, they stared at him, incredulous.…They were very afraid of him.
(84)<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">This
first of the four concluding López stories is significant in multiple respects.
In a mere thirty pages, López has been transformed from sad brother to
terrifying general and second-in-command. This <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">estampa</i> also marks the beginning of a shift away from the
memoirization that nearly dominates the text as a whole in favor of a poet’s
words, implying a move toward versification, or, rather, the language of
religion or legend. Here, this is manifested through religious imagery – that
López, causer of political upset, should die in Las Cruces, city of crosses,
only to be virtually resurrected through disinterment. As imagined
Christ-figure, López achieves a martyr status and thereby moves toward national
sainthood. The following <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">estampa</i>,
“The Tragedy of Martín,” solidifies this status by completely abandoning the
pre-established memoirization effect, rejecting the supposed reality of
experience, for complete versification, appearing as a poem rather than a prose
narrative and thus traditionally memorializing López as mythic figure.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>In the context of Campobello’s goal
of redeeming Villa, sanctifying López is not without necessity. These final
four <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">estampas</i> do more than just
martyrize Martín; they also stress the relationship between the two men:<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 200%; margin-left: .5in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">General
Villa wept for [López] more than anyone. He loved him like a son….Pablo,
Martín, and Vicente López – three brothers – died being Villistas. The last one
was Martín, who came to be the General’s second and his son. No one had more
right to call himself Villa’s son. Martín even looked like Villa; he was his
warrior son.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>(84)<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">By
establishing the father-son relationship between Villa and López, one can
extend the Christ metaphor placed upon López to include Villa as well, thus
deifying the “father.” The interesting assertion here is that no one “had more
right to call himself Villa’s son” than López did, further implying that,
though it is López’s accomplishments that are valorized in these <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">estampas</i>, it is ultimately Villa who is
the almighty force in the relationship and whose favor must be earned. This
relationship is echoed and advanced even further in the final <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">estampa </i>in the collection:<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 200%; margin-left: .5in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Martín,
who was the spitting image of General Villa, used to do things so precisely
that he never failed. He had absorbed the General’s every thought, and we could
almost see that he was guessing what the General wanted. It made no difference
if he was far away or nearby. Ah! (88)<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Here,
Villa and López move beyond a father-son relationship to become, figuratively
at least, one and the same person. They take on the same appearance, the same
thoughts, and by extension the same military perfection; Villa is thereby
sainted by association with the previously sanctified López, who is his double.
<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Campobello thus achieves redemption
for Villa through a double process. Within the pages of <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Cartucho,</i> he is presented as both human enough to warrant the
anecdotal, memoirized prose detailing his undeniably human motivations of
hunger and thirst and acts of benevolence and forgiveness as well as being
mythic or iconic enough to merit sanctification through poetic archival and
oneness with the previously consecrated martyr López. Campobello asserts that
Villa is inherently more Mexican than his rivals and thus more qualified to
hold national sainthood. The book, of course, ends on the happy note of
victory, with Campobello emerging from the storytelling of Ismael Maynez to
return to her childhood memory of the “people of [her] land [having] beaten the
savages” (89). The closing image of returning to church with her mother, where
the Virgin is presumably waiting, reinforces the religiosity of the text,
making one last push for Villa’s enduring national holiness. Herein Campobello
works as both historian and prophet, simultaneously documenting and
reconstructing the Mexican Revolution as maker of great Mexican men.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-left: .5in; text-align: center; text-indent: -.5in;">Works Cited<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-left: .5in; mso-pagination: widow-orphan lines-together; text-align: justify; text-autospace: none; text-indent: -.5in;">Campobello, Nellie. <i>Cartucho & My Mother’s Hands</i>. Trans. Doris
Meyer and Irene Matthews. Austin: U of Texas P, 1988. Print.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;"><o:p> </o:p></p><br /><p></p>Kathttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13911742245743775772noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8831004853237106995.post-370151105833682342022-02-22T08:21:00.001+09:002022-02-22T08:21:56.496+09:00The Citizenship of the Recovering Woman: On Peck and the Hegemonic Response to Feminism<p style="text-align: justify;"> </p><p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">In
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The Age of Oprah</i> (2008), Janice Peck
presents the phenomenon of neoliberalism as a cross-party, sociopolitical
movement rooted in the conscious absorption of counter-hegemonic ideas and
ideals. The text achieves this departure from the traditional
domination-resistance binary through a discussion of Oprah as a cultural
movement, one uniquely active in the mode of neoliberal hegemonic process. Key
to Peck’s argument is the notion of recovery, as channeled through the
unprecedentedly popular <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Oprah Winfrey
Show</i>, as a tool by which counter-hegemonic movements such as feminism might
be altered and subsumed by the dominant ideology at hand. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">To
deconstruct the interplay of recovery and feminism that took place under
Oprah’s reign at the turn of the century, one must begin with an understanding
of hegemony as sociopolitical construct. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Resistance
through Rituals </i>(1975, 2006) elaborates on Gramsci’s definition, calling
hegemony a “‘total social authority’ over subordinate classes” involving the
“exercise of … the power to frame alternatives and contain opportunities, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">to win and shape consent</i>, so that the
granting of legitimacy to the dominant classes appears not only ‘spontaneous’
but natural and normal” (28-9). Hegemony’s power is essentially two-fold, being
characterized “by the combination of force and consent … without force
predominating excessively over consent” (29). Thus, the status of the dominant
social stratum is legitimized through active coercion – the suppression or
discipline of consent-refusal – but more powerfully through subtle coercion,
which is often predicated on the prestige of the ruling class associated with
that dominant position. Hence Peck begins her <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Age of Oprah</i> with a maddening assemblage of Oprah’s accomplishments
heralded through and by the public eye. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">With
Oprah thus established as a power figure duly capable of enacting the subtle
coercion necessary to hegemonic enforcement, her involvement in the
distribution of the recovery movement as ideology becomes that much more
ominous for feminism and other movements that would portend structural change. Recovery
as a movement, first popularized in the United States through the 1930s
creation of Alcoholics Anonymous, prescribes a “medical language instead of a
moral language” (Tolkin 696) to what may otherwise be viewed as a societal
flaw; the alcoholic is no longer a symptom of his economics, politics, or
social position but an individual with disease – an addict – for which he is
personally responsible and through which he becomes the “most modern of men”
(Tolkin 700). The addict, once he is self-identified, must engage in a lifelong
process of “recovering” that is premised on admitting his own powerlessness
over his addiction and coming “to believe that a [p]ower greater than [himself]
could restore [him] to sanity” (Tolkin 696). As Peck notes, the “only cure is
to ‘let go of self-will’ and ‘build your willingness to surrender’” (71). <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>This recovery mindset comes into violent conflict with
the goals of feminism in two ways. First, the language of recovery has the
unique power to pathologize the symptoms of societal female oppression. That
“women’s unhappiness stemmed from the fact that men were ‘short-changing women
emotionally’ and keeping them ‘economically dependent’” (Peck 65) is
systematically replaced by a series of diagnoses – codependency,
hyperemotionality, pain addiction, etc. – that are “‘defined in terms of health
and illness’ and subjected to medical labeling and treatment” (Peck 74) rather
than interrogated in terms of structurally-imposed gender oppression. Once a
diagnosis is accepted, the “sick” woman may only be restored to “sanity” by
admitting powerlessness and relinquishing her own will to that of a greater
power, which in itself “amounts to saying that women’s ‘will’ is itself
pathological – something that can be combated only by renouncing one’s desires
and conceding dependence on an external, metaphysical force” (Peck 71). Any
analysis of communal experience or call for collective action on the part of
women is discouraged; instead, women are encouraged to “accept men as they are,
that their desire for men to change is a symptom of a specifically female
mental disturbance, [and] that they purge themselves of will and embrace
powerlessness” (Peck 71). In this fashion, the recovery model is not merely at
odds with feminism but rather actively works to reincorporate the feminist into
the existing system of male dominance and female submission. This act of
coerced reabsorption makes the recovery movement a mode by which the existing
hegemonic order remains intact.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Oprah is complicit in this hegemonic exercise in a number
of ways. The very nature of the television talk show is perfectly structured
for hegemonic re-institutionalization. The attraction of said shows, Peck
notes, is that “the host is going to save you, make you well, make you happy,
make the hurt go away, do things for you that you can’t do for yourself” (16). In
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The Queen of America Goes to Washington
City</i> (1997), Lauren Berlant posits that television is in part responsible
for the creation of a “mass nationality” (31) through the “dissemination of
national knowledges” that work to constitute “competent citizens” (30). Competency
in this case refers to the “citizen adults [who] have learned to ‘forget’ or
render as impractical, naïve, or childish their utopian political
identifications in order to be politically happy and economically functional”
(29). The <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Oprah Winfrey Show</i> succeeds
in supplanting the political ideal – in this case, gender equality – with
functional happiness – through the self-responsibility offered by the recovery
model – by introducing for the audiences of each episode of her popular
television talk show both a problem and a solution, both of which work to
reinforce the legitimacy of the dominant ideology.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>As example of this model, Peck provides abridged
transcripts of a number of episodes crossing nearly a decade of <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The Oprah Winfrey Show</i>. In each
instance, Oprah presents a new dilemma facing a particular subject or set of
subjects – and, by extension, the larger audience – to be addressed, often
“‘repeated accounts of victimization [that] seem to overwhelm’” (Peck 17). This
problem-half of the problem-solution episode model serves two functions toward
the absorption of counter-hegemony. First, the repeated display of problems
facing women through the mechanism of daytime television – which is marketed
specifically to women and exists outside of the spectrum of serious news
programs marketed to men – ultimately trivializes those problems and works to
desensitize women to their own plight. Secondly, as is pointed out in <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Resistance through Rituals</i>, the
“definitions of reality institutionalized within these apparatuses [in this
case, television talk shows] come to constitute a lived ‘reality as such’ for
the subordinate classes” (29). Thus, in terms of hegemony, the problems Oprah
presents <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">as problems</i> become a lived
reality for the targeted subordinate class, women, that is as it should be;
e.g. women who love too much are a reality made possible by womanhood itself
and can only be corrected by examining the behaviors of women.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>The “national knowledge” that Oprah offers as solution to
these woman-problems is, as aforementioned, the recovery model, a brand of
pseudo-empowerment she endorses through books, expert interviews, and an
endless series of personal quotes collected by Peck. In this respect, Oprah
creates a mass citizenship for the recovering woman, who has achieved national
“competence” by relinquishing control of the structural position of women
through the acceptance of one prescribed woman-addiction or another, thereby
forgoing the political ideal of gender equality promoted by feminism in favor
of the personal functionality offered as replacement by the recovery model,
which reinforces the sustained hegemonic order. Contrary to Oprah’s claim of
female empowerment, this mode of eschewing social change for personal change
does not empower women but rather coerces the counter-hegemonic feminist back
into the hegemonic fold of female submission.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Though
Peck does not make specific reference to the workings of hegemony in terms of
counter-hegemony, she does an excellent job at identifying the discord between
the symbol of Oprah as feminist offering empowerment to female viewers and
Oprah as mechanism of neoliberal hegemonic replication. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The Age of Oprah</i> successfully correlates the rise of Oprah’s power
over viewers with the concurrent rise of neoliberal policy. Taken with regard
to the works of Hall, Jefferson, and Berlant, this is a text that is invaluable
to cultural studies and one which will surely have repercussions on future
analyses of media and other forms of ideological dissemination as well as
contemporary feminism.</span></p><p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"></span></p><p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-left: .5in; text-align: center; text-indent: -.5in;">Bibliography <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: .5in; mso-pagination: widow-orphan lines-together; text-autospace: none; text-indent: -.5in;">Berlant, Lauren. <i>The Queen
of America Goes to Washington City: Essays on Sex and Citizenship</i>. Durham,
UK: Duke University Press, 1997.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: .5in; mso-pagination: widow-orphan lines-together; text-autospace: none; text-indent: -.5in;"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: .5in; mso-pagination: widow-orphan lines-together; text-autospace: none; text-indent: -.5in;">Hall, Stuart, and Tony
Jefferson, eds. <i>Resistance through Rituals: Youth Subcultures in Post-War
Britain</i>. 2nd ed. London, UK: Routledge, 2006.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: .5in; mso-pagination: widow-orphan lines-together; text-autospace: none; text-indent: -.5in;"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: .5in; mso-pagination: widow-orphan lines-together; text-autospace: none; text-indent: -.5in;">Peck, Janice. <i>The Age of
Oprah: Cultural Icon for the Neoliberal Era</i>. Boulder, CO: Paradigm, 2008.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: .5in; mso-pagination: widow-orphan lines-together; text-autospace: none; text-indent: -.5in;"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: .5in; mso-pagination: widow-orphan lines-together; text-autospace: none; text-indent: -.5in;">Tolkin, Michael. “Alcoholics
Anonymous.” 1935. In <i>A New Literary History of America</i>, edited by Greil
Marcus and Werner Sollors, 695-700. Cambridge, MA: The Belknap Press of Harvard
University Press, 2009.<o:p></o:p></p><br /><p></p>Kathttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13911742245743775772noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8831004853237106995.post-59106496819496978092018-02-15T10:17:00.000+09:002018-02-15T10:17:21.509+09:002.15<br />
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Tell the Day<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><i>for Marlon</i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 150%;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Sew the memory where the
mouth is, bent<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">grass talking backward to
unpin the sky.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Kwame made the rain, and
everywhere went<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 150%;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">time-stopped and
un-spelled, whatever that meant - <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">you know how a story
shapes like a lie <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">when it's pressed too
long to body and bent<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 150%;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">dog-eared for re-tell. In
truth, accident<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">was I wanted to talk. A
danger. That's why<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">I loosed the thread of
it, and everywhere went<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 150%;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">quiet with my quiet. Sew
the apparent<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">memory. Kwame called down
every high <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">stubborn cloud and,
readied flat space, we bent<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 150%;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">back our two heads for
that songbird-slow scent<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">that comes full from no
place in down, dumb sigh. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Tell the day: that was
all. Everything went.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 150%;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Trick of water is to
leave what's absent<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">absent. We sprawled
hushed wild wet, he and I.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Sew the memory where my
mouth is bent.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Kwame made the rain, and
everywhere went.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />Kathttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13911742245743775772noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8831004853237106995.post-49869576614165063382015-04-22T07:34:00.001+09:002015-04-22T07:34:24.932+09:00Wow hello it's Wednesday, and I have two poems in this great <a href="http://www.tinderboxpoetry.com/" target="_blank">Tinderbox</a> with many thanks to Molly and to Brett and to everyone.Kathttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13911742245743775772noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8831004853237106995.post-54687858194005624112015-04-01T22:04:00.003+09:002015-04-01T22:07:17.369+09:004.1The inaugural issue of Pith is out today -- and it's full up and wonderful -- and with many thanks to Meg and to Joy I have <a href="http://www.pithjournal.com/?page_id=329" target="_blank">two poems</a> inside it.Kathttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13911742245743775772noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8831004853237106995.post-61946295947630237572015-03-15T21:03:00.004+09:002023-02-12T08:18:36.222+09:00flashback<a href="http://poetrywillbemadebyall.ch/book/black-racket-ocean/" target="_blank">Black Racket Ocean</a> came out a year ago. Remember that?<br />
<br />
<br />
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">We Go to the Big
Telescope to Witness the Death of Some Faraway Star</b></div>
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<br /></div>
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We went to the big telescope – </div>
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It wasn’t dark. </div>
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<br /></div>
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If I remember what you remember</div>
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It wasn’t dark. There were only everywhere</div>
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<br /></div>
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Trees. Radio told us: devastating event.</div>
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It doesn’t matter, you said, that all we can see</div>
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<br /></div>
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Are trees. </div>
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<br /></div><div class="MsoNoSpacing"><br /></div>
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<br /></div>
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We went to the big telescope</div>
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And crawled inside the big telescope</div>
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<br /></div>
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How someone might slide inside an X-ray.</div>
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It was dark.</div>
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<br /></div>
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Radio told us: somewhere the death.</div>
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Somewhere the devastating</div>
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<br /></div>
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So devastating event. You crawled inside</div>
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I crawled inside</div>
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<br /></div>
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Broken black inches of X-ray.</div>
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<br /></div>
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<br /></div><div class="MsoNoSpacing"><br /></div>
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I’d meant to ask</div>
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If looking down the eye of the big telescope</div>
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<br /></div>
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Would be more like the whirlpool</div>
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Or the hollowed out bone.</div>
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<br /></div>
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Inside the sad crackling radio, no space</div>
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Could match the personal effect</div>
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Of drowning</div>
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Or of choking on a lazy tongue,</div>
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<br /></div>
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But oh how many times I’ve been wrong before.</div>
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We went flat inside the X-ray</div>
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And told ourselves we could see more</div>
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<br /></div>
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Than our own eyelashes. It was so devastating,</div>
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The dark. </div>
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<br /></div>
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It might take a long time, you said,</div>
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For the star to die. It might be so stubborn.</div>
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<br /></div>
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It might take its whole life. I knocked</div>
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My cold knuckles against my available bones</div>
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<br /></div>
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To be sure they weren’t your bones.</div>
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<br /></div>
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<br /></div><div class="MsoNoSpacing"><br /></div>
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If I love you I can’t begin to say</div>
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I miss my language. I can’t begin to say. </div>
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<br /></div>
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In the fish-eyed world of the telescope,</div>
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Scenes of dark matter went on being over-</div>
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<br /></div>
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Shadowed by scenes of dark matter.</div>
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I expected the lonely hiss of black holes,</div>
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<br /></div>
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Anything to bring us back to beginning</div>
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Again.</div>
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<br /></div>
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But big black holes are quiet. </div>
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That’s not, you said,</div>
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<br /></div>
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The devastating event.</div>
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<br /></div>
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<br /></div>
Kathttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13911742245743775772noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8831004853237106995.post-90811968052062350542015-01-17T12:59:00.001+09:002015-01-17T12:59:41.673+09:00Lockjaw Magazine's Violence Against WomenIn case you missed it: Lockjaw Magazine published a poem by J. Bradley
in its inaugural issue, a poem which consists entirely of a glamorized
mutilation of a woman's body - a woman the male voice "deserves" - under
the pretense of a "mother's advice." This is one poem within an
exhausting history of poetry - and other literary media - that exploits
women and women's bodies to benefit the artistic expression of male
writers, creating an atmosphere that encourages the transform<span class="text_exposed_show">ation
of women into woman-props and discourages women (as writers and as
readers) from equal, safe, and full participation in the literary
community and with literature as a whole. Editor "Xtina" responded to
concerns raised by women writers and readers regarding this poem by
hailing "censorship!" and other tired claims that serve only to defend
the status quo and silence women who do not agree with it. (You can read
her full - gross - response below.) It is high time for editors to be
held responsible for the content they choose to publish and the ways in
which that content contributes to the overall oppression of marginalized
people and voices. Stop hiding behind words like "censorship" - words
you clearly do not understand the meaning of - and start being better.</span><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYn0_3MUw18LuqIjJexW3_MiTceMu-Yv2kdfJsgBkRNyFTVYIwnud29d1WkjAg2X8rPmhGSu3Ypngw51E7hkM5PARbeFsRkn2pKLQjoY3IjAQw2558V1nGZxbTHhGPgrrwINuWZT1KZL2i/s1600/poor+you.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYn0_3MUw18LuqIjJexW3_MiTceMu-Yv2kdfJsgBkRNyFTVYIwnud29d1WkjAg2X8rPmhGSu3Ypngw51E7hkM5PARbeFsRkn2pKLQjoY3IjAQw2558V1nGZxbTHhGPgrrwINuWZT1KZL2i/s1600/poor+you.jpg" height="320" width="281" /></a></div>
Kathttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13911742245743775772noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8831004853237106995.post-85292939956367164932014-10-18T20:19:00.002+09:002014-10-18T20:19:30.393+09:00housesI have one true story in <a href="http://www.tupeloquarterly.com/the-house-in-motion-by-kat-dixon/" target="_blank">Tupelo Quarterly</a> re: moving companies, etc. I live in a green house now.Kathttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13911742245743775772noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8831004853237106995.post-65538738264438658112014-10-13T08:38:00.005+09:002014-10-13T08:38:38.519+09:0010.13.14It's all ladies in <a href="http://www.kenningjournal.com/kat-dixon-light-makes-motion-issue-six-draft/" target="_blank">this issue</a> of Kenning Journal, and I am one of them.Kathttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13911742245743775772noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8831004853237106995.post-77673856904738189142014-09-21T10:23:00.002+09:002014-09-21T10:23:41.345+09:00absolute SundayNathan Rupp asks me <a href="http://morphemicmorphology.wordpress.com/2014/09/21/terpischores-atrium-with-kat-dixon/" target="_blank">questions about poems</a> and things today for Hermeneutic Chaos. It's the second day I've been awoken by a mystery repairman mistakenly sent to my house to fix - what? - so I know something big must be broken.Kathttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13911742245743775772noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8831004853237106995.post-19521004185832374472014-09-07T21:28:00.002+09:002014-09-07T21:33:31.160+09:00home (reprise)<br />
It's Sunday. I'm reprinting my own poem. It's nice to know I've written one before.<br />
<br />
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<br />
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt;">Home (Reprise)<br style="mso-special-character: line-break;" />
<br style="mso-special-character: line-break;" />
</span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">I will hear it
come morning, the nothing sound</span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">of deep-lunged
pauses while you stir the tea,</span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">of the slow
quarter moon half-circling ‘round,</span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">caught once in
the lattice work, pulled to the ground,</span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">where doves
collect rumors beneath the elm tree</span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">and coo to dead
lovers, a sweet nothing sound.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">I anticipate: how
do you do?, compound</span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">sentences,
sunflower seeds, nothing as free</span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">as the slow
quarter moon half-circling ‘round,</span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">so unlike the
kettle, alarming, inbound</span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">train pressing
importance on activity.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">I’ll catch it, by
morning, the old nothing sound.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">Visitors,
knocking, won’t notice the dreams, found</span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">by witch luck on
two tongues, in the temblor sea</span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">of the slow quarter
moon half-circling ‘round.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">(Medicinal headaches,
allergic, profound,</span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">learn nothing of
weathervanes, nothing of me.)</span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">I wait for it,
each morning, the nothing sound</span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">of that slow
quarter moon half-circling ‘round.</span><br />
<br />
</div>
Kathttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13911742245743775772noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8831004853237106995.post-60880632562393789112014-07-02T08:46:00.003+09:002014-07-02T08:46:47.530+09:00$$<span class="userContent"><a data-hovercard="/ajax/hovercard/user.php?id=1626695381" href="https://www.facebook.com/parker.tettleton" id="js_44">Parker Tettleton</a>
wrote OURS MINE YOURS and wow wow it's available today! Parker is not
just my life-brother -- he is an extraordinary, original poet, and I
highly recommend this little book.</span><br />
<br />
<span class="userContent"><img alt="oursmineyours" class="alignnone size-medium wp-image-173" height="300" src="http://pitymilkpress.files.wordpress.com/2014/07/omy.jpg?w=300&h=300" width="300" /> </span><br />
<br />
<span class="userContent">Available <a href="http://pitymilkpress.wordpress.com/chapbooks/parker-tettleton/" target="_blank">here</a>. </span>Kathttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13911742245743775772noreply@blogger.com0