What would've happened if Hazel Motes had the right help when he returned from the war?
Earlier today, I viewed an episode of ESPN's Outside the Lines. On this show, a young woman had all the potential in the world. She was an excellent basketball player, an excellent student, and seemed to have her act together. However, all that came crashing down when on a whim, she decided she would play basketball in Italy. She dropped out of school, went to play professional basketball in Europe, was recruited by a WNBA team in Los Angeles, and then became homeless all within a three-year span. Her story was one that weighed on me for a while. I realized at that moment that mental illness takes a toll on Americans each and every day - from all walks of life. This young lady was diagnosed with schizophrenia, and without the proper medication and professional help, she wanders and lives on the streets of Washington, D.C. Hazel Motes is not far from this same situation. Haze left his home for the army to serve in World War II. He returned to no home, no job, and no family to support him. Today, many who return from service in the military normally have something. But how many return with nothing - like Hazel did?
It is fairly obvious that in this time and place, the mind played dirty tricks on Hazel just as it continues to do on the young lady who struggled with schizophrenia in the story from ESPN. I dare say that this same scenario plays out in reality for many people. Haze lost all that was familiar to him. He lost his home, his religion, and the potential of a familiar livelihood in the mountains of Tennessee. His thoughts and visions of what society would deem normal are definitely not that. His anti-Christ outbursts at the movie theater in the middle of town and at the top of the steps in front of Hawks and his daughter are both examples of the mind justifying questionable behaviors. Haze desperately needed a medical and psychological intervention. We know that in post World War II, this was not something that was done. But to me, Haze is clearly suffering. His erratic behavior is beyond a comic stance in a novel. His behavior demonstrates pathological tendencies that leave not only other characters scratching their heads but the reader as well.
Pathological tendencies. They are found in American Gothic literary works. A character displays abnormalities that are only found in the mind but not necessarily in external actions. These tendencies shape a character and create a story that leaves a reader pondering on the fictional actions of characters and the real actions of the living. After reading several texts in American Gothic literature, I must say that the idea for the pathological is definitely there with each one. The protagonist does not always have to represent the abnormality, but someone who interacts with him or her does. In the works read in our American Gothic Literature course, a character with an obvious pathological issue sets the action in motion and demonstrates how the imbalance of one triggers the imbalance of many. Diving into Wise Blood, Blackwater, and "Saint Marie" we see where the actions of just one character send the other characters into a spiral of decline.
Wise Blood by Flannery O'Connor is an excellent example of how one's actions are obviously pathological in nature and change the lives of not only the protagonist but other minor characters also. Haze's behavior as mentioned above does just that.
Blackwater by Joyce Carol Oates is another work where a character - this one happens to be a senator - who due to extreme self-centered tendencies left a young woman to die. She died due to his careless actions. His actions, in my opinion, were pathological.
"Saint Marie" by Louise Erdrich is another example of a pathological character whose actions developed the story. Sister Leopolda's actions are at best pathological. Her treatment of Marie were reprehensible and demonstrated a mind that does not reside in the world of normalcy.
As I wrap this up, I realize that I could list many, many works of American Gothic literature that could place a character in the category of pathological. These behaviors of characters are, in my opinion, definitive hallmarks of American Gothic literature.
Premise and ideas derived from: The Cambridge Companion to Gothic Fiction edited by Jerrold E. Hogle
Sunday, July 30, 2017
Sunday, July 23, 2017
The Art of Psychological Warfare
Dear Reader,
This week I decided to take a trip down the path of the mind. I believe that literature is meant to teach us something, and I think authors are the ones who do so with their contextualized statements on society. These works, whether deliberate or not, divulge various dark secrets in society that need to be openly addressed. Authors take it upon themselves to open up the mind for all to see.
***
Psychological warfare is the intent to reduce the morale of the enemy or opponent. Fiedler writes in Love and Death in the American Novel of the "break-through is characterized not only by the separation of psychology from philosophy, the displacement of the traditional leading genres by the personal lyric and analytic prose fiction (with the consequent subordination of plot to character); it is also marked by the promulgation of a theory of revolution as a good in itself and, most notably perhaps, by a new concept of inwardness. One is almost tempted to say, by the invention of a new kind of self, a new level of mind; for what has been happening since the eighteenth century seems more like the development of a new organ than the mere finding of a new way to describe old experience. The triumph, for instance, of the theory that insanity is not possession by forces out
side the psyche but a failure within the psyche itself is a representative aspect of the change-over" (xxviii). In many instances, American literature often focuses on the psychological warfare between the author and his or her narrator, the writer and his or her audience. Those who read may feel life is okay or their opinions on certain matters are normal, but it sometimes takes an author or other work to make society realize that something needs to change.
Are authors, as the dictionary defines this practice, attempting to mislead or demoralize society through the use of literature? Maybe. But I propose that writers themselves may be attempting to do more than that. They shape our world through their use of rhetoric and are guides in establishing what society thinks and feels. How many people have changed their minds on the justice system in the South or race in general simply by reading To Kill a Mockingbird? How many reflected that Jim in The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn was not the unfeeling slave so many thought he would be? In reading a work like Of Mice & Men did readers learn about the situations of the intellectually disabled? Reverse psychology has been played for many years by parents, and my dear friends, it is being played upon us by the very words we consume.
It isn't even the idea of manipulating us to do or act on the opposite. Cleverly, authors present the situation in a plot that the reader connects to or intrigued by. He or she presents the idea of humanity to the reader. The reader generally accepts this character or setting on some level possibly making a connection of some kind. And before the audience realizes it, the reader is hooked and feeling something for the issue at hand. A head game begins to play out before the reader's eyes. A monologue spoken by the protagonist steers the reader in a different path than before. A simple act of kindness or internal thought made by the narrator concerning an injustice of some kind guides the reader into an enlightened way of thinking. So whether the intent of the book is to change the mentality of the world or not, we may never know. But think about it - literature is a reflection of our society. What writers say about the world and its occupants is written down not just for readers of today but for generations to come. What better way to design society's ideologies than by using the tools of psychological warfare?
This week I decided to take a trip down the path of the mind. I believe that literature is meant to teach us something, and I think authors are the ones who do so with their contextualized statements on society. These works, whether deliberate or not, divulge various dark secrets in society that need to be openly addressed. Authors take it upon themselves to open up the mind for all to see.
***
Psychological warfare is the intent to reduce the morale of the enemy or opponent. Fiedler writes in Love and Death in the American Novel of the "break-through is characterized not only by the separation of psychology from philosophy, the displacement of the traditional leading genres by the personal lyric and analytic prose fiction (with the consequent subordination of plot to character); it is also marked by the promulgation of a theory of revolution as a good in itself and, most notably perhaps, by a new concept of inwardness. One is almost tempted to say, by the invention of a new kind of self, a new level of mind; for what has been happening since the eighteenth century seems more like the development of a new organ than the mere finding of a new way to describe old experience. The triumph, for instance, of the theory that insanity is not possession by forces out
side the psyche but a failure within the psyche itself is a representative aspect of the change-over" (xxviii). In many instances, American literature often focuses on the psychological warfare between the author and his or her narrator, the writer and his or her audience. Those who read may feel life is okay or their opinions on certain matters are normal, but it sometimes takes an author or other work to make society realize that something needs to change.
Are authors, as the dictionary defines this practice, attempting to mislead or demoralize society through the use of literature? Maybe. But I propose that writers themselves may be attempting to do more than that. They shape our world through their use of rhetoric and are guides in establishing what society thinks and feels. How many people have changed their minds on the justice system in the South or race in general simply by reading To Kill a Mockingbird? How many reflected that Jim in The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn was not the unfeeling slave so many thought he would be? In reading a work like Of Mice & Men did readers learn about the situations of the intellectually disabled? Reverse psychology has been played for many years by parents, and my dear friends, it is being played upon us by the very words we consume.
It isn't even the idea of manipulating us to do or act on the opposite. Cleverly, authors present the situation in a plot that the reader connects to or intrigued by. He or she presents the idea of humanity to the reader. The reader generally accepts this character or setting on some level possibly making a connection of some kind. And before the audience realizes it, the reader is hooked and feeling something for the issue at hand. A head game begins to play out before the reader's eyes. A monologue spoken by the protagonist steers the reader in a different path than before. A simple act of kindness or internal thought made by the narrator concerning an injustice of some kind guides the reader into an enlightened way of thinking. So whether the intent of the book is to change the mentality of the world or not, we may never know. But think about it - literature is a reflection of our society. What writers say about the world and its occupants is written down not just for readers of today but for generations to come. What better way to design society's ideologies than by using the tools of psychological warfare?
Wednesday, July 12, 2017
The Social Force in Oates' Black Water
The most compelling force taken from Joyce Carol Oates' work Black Water was the belief that this could actually happen. As a matter of fact, it did. The reader does not find identical characters, but instead the fictitious disclaimer found at the end of credits plays in the reader's mind. For this reason, Black Water should not be considered a Romantic novella. The situation that plays out in this work is executed by social forces that most Americans are familiar with, defining the work as Realist.
In Oates' essay, "On Fiction in Fact,” she says, “Language by its very nature tends to distort experience. With the best of intentions, in recalling the past, if even a dream of the previous night, we are already altering—one might say violating—the original experience, which may have been wordless and was certainly improvised” (77). With this in mind, Oates develops a realistic experience in her writing. The language in this work is conveyed to an audience who will inevitably place it to be categorized, felt and experienced. Humans define society through language and actions, understanding that in many scenarios language carries more weight than actions. This weight conveys a reality to us. Events become fictitious once identical sentences are altered in any way. The reader does not know what exactly happened to the passenger in Senator Kennedy's car that night; however, through Oates' writing, the audience becomes privy to a possible realm of realistic thoughts and reflections.
Social forces are present in this novel. The reader of this novella would be somewhat familiar with the Chappaquiddick incident. Thus, having a history or some kind of background knowledge brings a societal and cultural awareness prior to the reading. This societal and cultural awareness stems from what the reader hears and reads in the media. However, this idea of reflection theory merges the social into the literary. Social forces are what drive this novel. A mirror of America is held to the reader's face as he or she reads this novel. Its reflection is very familiar. Society knows the characters portrayed in this story. Americans especially are familiar with the events that take place on that fateful July 4th. The events that transpire are not only somewhat ordinary, but of tales heard woven in local folklore, of rumors, and fodder for the media. The alcohol-induced decisions, the desire to be loved, the dismissal of the right choice, the misconception of truth, and the plot that only thickens all conspire to give this book its rightful place as a Realist work.
The character the reader becomes most familiar with - Kelly Kelleher - wants to be the ideal and real American girl. Kelly’s entire life carried the goal of being the perfect American girl. As Kelly is reflecting on her life, she takes the reader down a road of memories from the corrective eye surgery to her final day on earth, all in the quest to be that perfect American girl. These events define her and possibly convince herself of this title. In Oates’ final repetition of the lines, “You love the life you’ve lived, you’re an American girl” (152), as if it were her epitaph on Kelly’s underwater tomb.
Societal forces are what defined Kelly. They are what defined the Senator, and they are what defined the events that unfolded on that final day of Kelly's life. Thus, societal force gives the appellation of realism to this particular novel. As tragic as this work is, the reader is all too familiar with the premise of this novella.
In Oates' essay, "On Fiction in Fact,” she says, “Language by its very nature tends to distort experience. With the best of intentions, in recalling the past, if even a dream of the previous night, we are already altering—one might say violating—the original experience, which may have been wordless and was certainly improvised” (77). With this in mind, Oates develops a realistic experience in her writing. The language in this work is conveyed to an audience who will inevitably place it to be categorized, felt and experienced. Humans define society through language and actions, understanding that in many scenarios language carries more weight than actions. This weight conveys a reality to us. Events become fictitious once identical sentences are altered in any way. The reader does not know what exactly happened to the passenger in Senator Kennedy's car that night; however, through Oates' writing, the audience becomes privy to a possible realm of realistic thoughts and reflections.
Social forces are present in this novel. The reader of this novella would be somewhat familiar with the Chappaquiddick incident. Thus, having a history or some kind of background knowledge brings a societal and cultural awareness prior to the reading. This societal and cultural awareness stems from what the reader hears and reads in the media. However, this idea of reflection theory merges the social into the literary. Social forces are what drive this novel. A mirror of America is held to the reader's face as he or she reads this novel. Its reflection is very familiar. Society knows the characters portrayed in this story. Americans especially are familiar with the events that take place on that fateful July 4th. The events that transpire are not only somewhat ordinary, but of tales heard woven in local folklore, of rumors, and fodder for the media. The alcohol-induced decisions, the desire to be loved, the dismissal of the right choice, the misconception of truth, and the plot that only thickens all conspire to give this book its rightful place as a Realist work.
The character the reader becomes most familiar with - Kelly Kelleher - wants to be the ideal and real American girl. Kelly’s entire life carried the goal of being the perfect American girl. As Kelly is reflecting on her life, she takes the reader down a road of memories from the corrective eye surgery to her final day on earth, all in the quest to be that perfect American girl. These events define her and possibly convince herself of this title. In Oates’ final repetition of the lines, “You love the life you’ve lived, you’re an American girl” (152), as if it were her epitaph on Kelly’s underwater tomb.
Societal forces are what defined Kelly. They are what defined the Senator, and they are what defined the events that unfolded on that final day of Kelly's life. Thus, societal force gives the appellation of realism to this particular novel. As tragic as this work is, the reader is all too familiar with the premise of this novella.
Thursday, July 6, 2017
Playing the Part of the Outcast
We all wear labels whether we want to or not. But how many times do we say we don't like labels? Yet, to be an outsider, an outcast who does not fit into the norm is something that we avoid like the plague. Marie desperately wanted to be a part of something and was willing to pay the price to do so by leaving everything behind. I saw myself in Marie as I read "Saint Marie" by Louise Erdich, and it was a poignant realization.
Growing up, I was pretty sheltered. By my parents' rules, I lived a life that kept me from sleepovers, hanging out with friends, kid parties, outside family members, sports teams, and restrictions that would force anyone into rebel or wish to at some point. I definitely connected with Marie's character as I read the story. Even though there are people out there, children even, who would give anything to share that tight-knit family, I can promise you that it was anything but that. My mother had an unnatural fear of the outside world. The people she interacted with other than her immediate family went as far as the grocery store, bank, gas station, and our local department store. Her steadfast rule was the world was out to get you and to never forget it.
In school, I felt like the social outcast even being in a classroom of 20 other kids my age. By fourth grade, I did not like Mondays or Fridays. When I was at school, I felt left out when the kids would host sleepovers at their houses, have birthday parties, or play sports on the same team. On Mondays I would hear about the great time most of the class had. On Fridays I would hear the plans made by most of the class once again. I could not understand why I was never allowed to take part in activities outside of school. It made me desperate to fit in and be able to share similar experiences.
This need to fit in transformed me into an outgoing person - a little too outgoing. By the time I was in eighth grade, I had developed a reputation through fabricated stories about myself and my weekend adventures. I had physically developed into a somewhat attractive teenager. I joined the pep club, the track team, and tried out for gymnastics by telling my mother that she did not have to come to those things. I would simply stay after school to participate. My mom would not have to interact with anyone or even identify herself as my mother. She allowed it but complained after every practice that she was inconvenienced.
So how does this tie in to Marie? Marie was dying to get out just as I was. Marie wanted to go to town and just wanted to be a part of something. By ninth grade, I was dying to interact with other people. Unfortunately, I hung around people who did not exactly share my similar interests though. They partied, they skipped classes, they did not care about school, and they definitely did not truly care about me. But if I hung around them, I was categorized with them. I actually had a group. Marie wanted to conform to something or somebody. There is a psychology to this feeling of conformity that explains the need to fit in. Marie wanted acceptance and love, and she did not care how she came about it. Her time with Sister Leopolda in the convent demonstrates this necessity more than a husband and his brats ever could.
So playing the part of outcast is something Marie did until she wanted to move on to a new role. Her need for conformity and shelter brought her pain but in the interim, it gave her strength too. I became a stronger person by the time my senior year rolled around. Like Marie, I endured physical, emotional, and mental pain. Joining a group I did not really want to be part of taught me a lot about myself. My need to fit in lessened. I no longer needed validation from the others who were neatly fitting into groups, boyfriends, teachers, and even my parents. Marie's transformation was much quicker than mine but nonetheless, I understand her plight at age 14. I was an outsider and still am at times today, but I learned that confidence and my own strength will carry me through.
Growing up, I was pretty sheltered. By my parents' rules, I lived a life that kept me from sleepovers, hanging out with friends, kid parties, outside family members, sports teams, and restrictions that would force anyone into rebel or wish to at some point. I definitely connected with Marie's character as I read the story. Even though there are people out there, children even, who would give anything to share that tight-knit family, I can promise you that it was anything but that. My mother had an unnatural fear of the outside world. The people she interacted with other than her immediate family went as far as the grocery store, bank, gas station, and our local department store. Her steadfast rule was the world was out to get you and to never forget it.
In school, I felt like the social outcast even being in a classroom of 20 other kids my age. By fourth grade, I did not like Mondays or Fridays. When I was at school, I felt left out when the kids would host sleepovers at their houses, have birthday parties, or play sports on the same team. On Mondays I would hear about the great time most of the class had. On Fridays I would hear the plans made by most of the class once again. I could not understand why I was never allowed to take part in activities outside of school. It made me desperate to fit in and be able to share similar experiences.
This need to fit in transformed me into an outgoing person - a little too outgoing. By the time I was in eighth grade, I had developed a reputation through fabricated stories about myself and my weekend adventures. I had physically developed into a somewhat attractive teenager. I joined the pep club, the track team, and tried out for gymnastics by telling my mother that she did not have to come to those things. I would simply stay after school to participate. My mom would not have to interact with anyone or even identify herself as my mother. She allowed it but complained after every practice that she was inconvenienced.
So how does this tie in to Marie? Marie was dying to get out just as I was. Marie wanted to go to town and just wanted to be a part of something. By ninth grade, I was dying to interact with other people. Unfortunately, I hung around people who did not exactly share my similar interests though. They partied, they skipped classes, they did not care about school, and they definitely did not truly care about me. But if I hung around them, I was categorized with them. I actually had a group. Marie wanted to conform to something or somebody. There is a psychology to this feeling of conformity that explains the need to fit in. Marie wanted acceptance and love, and she did not care how she came about it. Her time with Sister Leopolda in the convent demonstrates this necessity more than a husband and his brats ever could.
So playing the part of outcast is something Marie did until she wanted to move on to a new role. Her need for conformity and shelter brought her pain but in the interim, it gave her strength too. I became a stronger person by the time my senior year rolled around. Like Marie, I endured physical, emotional, and mental pain. Joining a group I did not really want to be part of taught me a lot about myself. My need to fit in lessened. I no longer needed validation from the others who were neatly fitting into groups, boyfriends, teachers, and even my parents. Marie's transformation was much quicker than mine but nonetheless, I understand her plight at age 14. I was an outsider and still am at times today, but I learned that confidence and my own strength will carry me through.
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