African-American and Postcolonial Criticism

editor: Dono Sunardi

Toni Morrison's The Bluest Eye is probably a perfect example of how racism operates in American society in the 1920s and 1930s, and elsewhere racism does exist and is perpetuated. As an idea, racism rooted in White's chauvinistic view (Tyson puts it as Eurocentrism). Racism itself is a cyclical process of indoctrination of eurocentrist view to other entities outside it through many structures and infrastructures such as school, religion, and literature (in Tyson's term: institutionalized racism), colonization of mind so that the subjects of racism take the socio-cultural inheritance as granted (internalized racism), and division of the subjects of racism so that they will never come to unison to  challenge the existing unjust power structure. These three stages create and feed each other, making it one of the most vicious diabolic cycle in human history. Each and every response in this blog is trying to dig deeply into that subject matter.

Peter Murray:

Peter highlights how Eurocentrism operates in the society, creating layers of discrimination:

"The complexity of Pecola's alienation at the hand of another American minority in the early twentieth century, the Irish (Morrison, 48), reveals the racial divide between white and black. In actuality, this Eurocentrism that the "Dick and Jane" primer illustrates is not necessarily available to either Pecola or the storekeeper. However, Pecola's exclusion results from her skin color whereas the storekeeper's exclusion results from class status. Thus, the storekeeper can believe he, too, participates in this superior lifestyle promoted in the "Dick and Jane" primer. 

While experience of exclusion is universal, Peter furthermore suggests that "Pecola exclusion's is not universal since she is not considered human. Indeed, as Tyson's (Tyson, 361) overview states, universal themes are 'relevant to the experience of all people.' Pecola's dehumanization, however, is evident in Morrison's bestial imagery, such as the character's last name, 'Breedloves.'"

Sarah Feldberg

Beginning with personal remark on how her present reading to The Bluest Eye is different and somehow more developed than her high school's reading, Sarah writes: 

"I was interested in Morrison's use of the quilt as a metaphor for subjectivity and consciousness--she (Morrison) writes of the Breedloves, 'Each member of the family in his own cell of consciousness, each making his own patchwork quilt of reality--collecting fragments of experience here, pieces of information there' (Morrison, 34)."

Sarah seems to have a particular interest in the use of "folky" metaphor such as quilt, or any other domestic activity, especially sewing, which are pervasive in women's writing, and sees them as a way to reclaim "women's experience".

In another part of her response, Sarah writes: "I also found Morrison's depiction of intra-racial racism and politics of respectability fascinating, i.e. her depiction of social hierarchies which favor African-Americans who look the 'most white,' like Maureen. Her characterization of Geraldine was also subtle and fraught--Morrison critiques Geraldine's fastidiousness and repression as the representation of a certain internalized racism." Sarah also believes that the educational system as depicted in the novel perpetuates the oppression of African-Americans.

Thorsten Schwaben

In his response, Thorsten writes about how racism operates in the character of Pecola. He begins with the concept of beauty Pecola has as a black girl:

"Pecola's concept of beauty, her ideal of being white ... is not her subjective feeling, but white society's projection on her. As a result, Pecola's imagination, that blue eyes will solve her problem is bound to fail. Since it is not her wish but the projection of white society, Pecola must go crazy at the end of the novel."

Thorsten also sees the problem of intra-racial racism (racial discrimination inside the same ethnic group): "For Pecola's skin is very dark, much darker than the skin of others, especially as a child, she is the target of mockery and discrimination. Pecola is constantly picked at by other children, whereas Maureen Peal who has a lighter skin than her is not [becoming] the target of mockery. Since Maureen's skin is closer to being white than Pecola's, Maureen enjoys a higher status. Thus, intra-racial racism creates a new hierarchy within the African-American community in The Bluest Eye."

Johannes Weinreich

After talking about how African-American criticism functions both as a subject matter (a study of a body of literature written by a specific group of marginalized people) and a theoretical criticism (various aspects and connected concepts of race which is applied to analyze any literary text that speaks to African American issues, regardless of the race of its author), and briefly analyzing the internalized and intra-racial racism found in Morrison's The Bluest Eye, Johannes links them to a concept called double consciousness or double vision as introduced by W.E.B. DuBois. He writes, "DuBois explained how a minority's cultural self-perception can be created by a cultural majority. If the standard for beauty in America is set by an all-white and middle class, ethnic minorities will accept this ideal and strive for it--regardless of their chances to accomplish it."

Constrating Pecola who falls prey to such notion or ideal of beauty in one hand, and Claudia and Frieda in the other hand, Johannes concludes:

"Unlike Pecola, Claudia has not yet had her first menstruation, an event that may be interpreted as an initiation ceremony into the 'corrupted' civilization in which one is judged by the ideals of white beauty. Claudia remains a child throughout the narration. It is only in this innocent state of mind that she can experience of an 'unsullied hatred' for whiteness which can be observed in her destruction of a baby doll that resembles Shirley Temple, a white child celebrity of the 1930s."

Furthermore, Johannes speculates that such an understanding will one day enable Claudia and Frieda to grow up, while accepting whiteness as a socio-cultural ideal [not a biological or essential ideal].

Keen Hahn

Seeing from postcolonial perspective, Keen proposes several interesting and amazing insights into the reading of The Bluest Eye. He argues how the black female children are tripled marginalized by power structure that exists in the society:

"Her [Morrison's] centering of the novel primarily in the perspective of three black, female children allows for an interrogation of the power structures that dictate their societal position and create the yearning for the culture of the colonizer that ultimately drives Pecola Breedlove to madness by the end of the text. The children experience what Homi Bhabha would call an indirect colonial ambivalence as the denigrating views of white society towards their parents are magnified and transmitted through the parents, leading children to be immersed in an even greater sense of inferiority. The children in the novel are triply marginalized, existing on the peripheral end of three separate binaries: white/black, male/female, and adult/child."

Keen still brings along this grim view of subjugation and power when he writes:

"The African-Americans in Morrison's novel have become trapped in a cycle of oppression, a trickle-down economy of violence. Such a rigid and prescriptive cultural system, based wholly on racial power, leads to the instinct to forsake all loyalties in order to exert power over another entity. Thus, black males mete out the punishment given to them by white males onto black women, and black women in turn exercise the same tyranny over their children. ... In this way, the colonizing power of white society perpetuates itself, creating children who are unwilling to fight against the unfair power relations because they have never had a chance to exercise any power of their own."

But, is there really no way whatsoever for black, female children to liberate themselves from such satanic cycle? Keen doesn't propose anything here.

Veronica Bruscini

Veronica's response is like giving a gong to the discussion as it begins with a such conclusive statement:

"Each vignette in Toni Morrison's The Bluest Eye provides ample material to cultivate through both African-American and Postocolonial schools of criticism. Image after image--from Claudia's ill-fated baby doll to Cholly's childhood impression of God and devil--speaks definitely to race relations and power structures. In relating the novel primarily through children's voices, Morrison reinforces the generational aspects of race and power tensions and also establishes the poisonous prevalence of such a legacy."

In the next paragraph, Veronica explores and explains how racism and racialism as defined by Tyson is a bleak inheritance of African-American children:

"... Pecola is undeniably crucial, yet the cycle that perpetuates her notions of personal worth and beauty began well before her birth with ideas internalized by her parents and bequeathed to their children. ... Envy, insecurity, and disillusionment take firm root in little Pecola, all the more so after witnessing her mother's cultural "double-vision" first hand. At home, Mrs. Breedlove resigns herself to inferiority and ugliness, giving up any pretense of housekeeping or joy in her surrounding, and relegating her family to an 'afterthought.' As 'Polly,' the Fishers' indispensable, 'ideal servant,' she takes pride and pleasure in keeping her employers' home pristine and organized ... While her mother prizes the love and beauty portrayed by white Hollywood and favors the household and offspring of her white employers, Pecola learns by example to prioritize the white gaze and to internalize racial stereotypes."

Week 10 Responses-Psychoanalysis and Gender Studies

Most of our class engaged (and sometimes critiqued) psychoanalytic theories in their response journals this week, although Thorsten and I also utilized a few concepts associated with gender studies. I attempted to "introduce" an excerpt from everyone's journal, and edited entries for clarity.

Dono describes some of the perceived limitations of psychoanalytic theory and contrasts psychoanalytic theory with a Marxist perspective in his response: "Freudian or classical psychoanalysis tries to explore and delve into an individual's unconscious to find out an explanation for his/her pattern of repressed behavior as well as his/her patterns of defense mechanisms. Some keywords or concepts relevant to the study of psychoanalysis are 'the unconscious,' 'repression, 'defense mechanisms,' 'lack,' 'dreams,' 'anxiety' and the centrality of the family or childhood. While psychoanalysis provided a 'breakthrough in our understanding of characters in a literary text (and of ourselves), and enhanced our ways of seeing characters' deeper motivations, in my opinion, psychoanalytic theory puts too much emphasis on the behavior of the individual. In psychoanalysis, the individual is 'uprooted' from society and put under the very 'focused microscope' of unconscious behavior and only narrowly seen as a subject. We, however, believe that the individual is always in dynamic relation with his/her society, and that he/she is constantly influencing and being influenced by society. Marxist perspectives, which regard socio-economic perspectives as the predominant influence on personality and behavior, can be seen as the 'other end of the critical continuum."

Thorsten finds psychoanalytic theory (or Tyson and Ryan's summations of psychoanalytic theory) reductive and restrictive, and his response is tongue-in-cheek: "Lois Tyson, in Critical Theory Today, points out the basic concepts behind psychoanalysis. Evolved from Sigmund Freud's theory and further developed by Jacques Lacan, the main idea behind the psychoanalyst's approach seems to be the significance of men's loss of their mothers. Pretty much everything that men do after their births, or rather, after they 'recognize' their 'selfhood,' is to compensate for that loss in some way or another. Reading The House of Mirth through the lens of psychoanalysis, we can see the male characters' striving for wealth and reputation as a means to make up for the loss of their mothers. Lacan would call this behavior condensation because the mother is replaced by money, which, though comforting, is unlike the mother herself. In addition, those men who court Lily are 'displacing' the loss of their mothers, by somehow (unconsciously) relating Lily to their mothers. "

Veronica discusses ways Lily utilizes various "defense mechanisms" in The House of Mirth, and, following psychoanalytic principles, associates these defenses with Lily's rather troubled childhood and her "relationship with death." She writes, "Throughout The House of Mirth, Lily engages in projection by closing her metaphorical eyes to the hazardous realities of her future path. Lily shrinks back sharply from the most cursory, peripheral glance of herself reflected in Gerty's charity cases; she remains in denial even as she enters the environment of the lower circles of social climbers and joins other ladies forced into breadwinning through the employment of their artistic talents. In the end, Lily cannot suppress her fears and her nightmares haunt her waking hours; Tyson defines this state as crisis or trauma - especially apt for Lily - and aligns it with an individual's relationship with death. Tyson notes that this fear...'translates for most of us ito fear of loss in general' (23). Lily suffers the losses she feared the most: loss of status, finances, comfort, love and independence...Lily experiences psychological 'death' when she loses her status as the brightest star in the social firmament and falls to the 'rubbish heap...'"

Peter discusses Lear's "regression" in Shakespeare's play: "To illuminate better the regressive nature of Lear, an example seems necessary. Before the heath scene, in which Lear shrinks to the depths of insanity, the protagonist foreshadows his ensuing regression. Lear states,

O, how this mother swells up toward my heart!

Hysterica passio, down, thou climbing sorrow,

Thy elements below! (2.2.246-248)

In the early modern period, the Hysterica Passio was a female affliction that arose from the womb and caused a woman to choke or suffocate. For Lear, citing the Hysterica Passio provides an excuse for his mental unraveling. Interestingly, it also suggests that the maternal figures (Goneril and Regan) are suffocating Lear. Indeed, at this point in the play, Goneril has symbolically emasculated her father by decreasing the King's retinue of a hundred knights."

Johannes, like Veronica, analyzes Lily Bart's use of various psychological defense mechanisms in The House of Mirth. He also looks briefly at Selden's psyche and the concept of the "Republic of the Spirit:" "Another character Edith Wharton establishes in her novel is Lawrence Selden. Unlike Lily, Selden has created what seems to be a second space. He calls this the 'republic of the spirit' (Wharton 55). It is here that Selden is able to find personal freedom. The republic of the spirit serves him as a defense mechanism, a place in which anxieties are not present. Whatever unconscious issues he represses in real life, they are not present in the 'republic of the spirit.' Selden's ego successfully protects him from anxiety."

Keen engages Lacanian theory in his analysis of The House of Mirth: "It becomes possible, through Lacan's lens, to see Lily as a representation of [Lacan's] 'Mirror Stage.' Lily is a character who is...still a part of a collective consciousness. She blindly follows the cultural precepts of the leisure class, pursuing a husband and 'marketing' herself, to use a Marxist term. She does not, however, display any specific identity traits that cannot be easily argued away. Granted, she is good at the role she plays; she is engaging and sociable and many men of high station take notice of her. This, however, does not necessarily mean that she has an identity. In fact, the moments of dissonance in which Lily unwittingly stumbles into what would be considered by her peers to be an "indiscretion" can be seen as the beginnings of the formation of her true identity. Lily begins as a firmly collective character, surrounded by other women of her status who all participate in the same activities that she does (with varying degrees of success.) Over the course of the novel, as Lily's epiphanies break her away from these behavioral patterns, she can be said to be experiencing a figurative 'Mirror Stage.' For example, the perversion of the economic power paradigm that happens when Gus Trenor thinks that his providing of financial aid to Lily justifies him receiving sexual favors from her, she refuses, though this goes against the collective belief on the subject. Here, Lily truly realizes her own body, making an assertion of refusal and individualizing/differentiating herself."

Like Thorsten, I analyzed Wharton's depiction of motherhood and mothering using psychoanalytic concepts - however, for me, psychoanalytic theories are useful tools for "unpacking" literature (though I feel perhaps Tyson and Ryan "infantilize" psychoanalytic principles in their attempts to make them accessible): "In terms of Tyson and Ryan's respective overviews of psychoanalysis and “gender studies” and their relevance to The House of Mirth, I thought back to my in-class comments about 'mothering' in the novel – indeed, mothers and (often highly ambivalent) depictions of mothering have primacy in the narrative, and, as both Tyson and Ryan illustrate, representations of “mothering” in literature are often highly fraught (and particularly well-suited to analysis that utilizes psychoanalytic or feminist critical perspectives). I thought back to Lily's own mother –Wharton presents a character who's callow, desperately and tragically materialistic, avaricious – and thought it's possible to read Lily's 'problems with intimacy' as a result of her relationship with her mother. It's significant that Lily's own sense of self is so irrevocably tied up with her mother's perceptions and viewpoints, as well. Wharton also makes it clear that most of her male characters have 'mother fixations' - shy, tremulous Percy Gryce has an overpowering mother; Selden's mother was perennially charming – and indicates the ways both men's sexual tastes and personalities are heavily influenced by this relationship. Motherhood also intersects with issues of class in the novel – upper-class women are rarely 'motherly.' Judy Trenor criticizes a minor character for putting familial bonds and the celebration of motherhood before social obligations: 'She says her sister is going to have a baby - as if that were anything to having a house-party' (42)! And Carrie Fisher is diffusely motherly – yet pays little attention to her actual daughter. Shabby Nettie Struther is the only character in the novel who is tender towards her child, and Wharton suggests by her treatment of Nettie – who narrowly recovered from t.b., who represents the abject underclass Lily can't bear to be associated with – that motherhood is redemptive. Wharton also illustrates (in what I find a somewhat saccharin or maudlin-fashion – actually, my twenty-first century feminist politics inform my reading of this novel and I find Wharton's treatment of motherhood a little pat and regressive) Nettie and her child bonding over a literal-'mother-tongue.' And, of course, where the novel 'virtually' begins with a discussion of Lily's background, specifically and primarily her relationship with her own mother, it of course ends with Lily hallucinating that she holds Nettie's child while she dies..."

Obituary: Claude Levi-Strauss

Claude Levi-Strauss, Anthropologist, Dies at 100

By EDWARD ROTHSTEIN

Published: November 3, 2009

Claude Lévi-Strauss, the French anthropologist who transformed Western understanding of what was once called “primitive man” and who towered over the French intellectual scene in the 1960s and ’70s, has died at 100.

Full story here.

What was very interesting about this week's responses, was the diversity of the replies. From knowing ourselves a little bit not just from within the classroom but also outside (just a little), I would argue that these responses tell a lot about ourselves. Therefore, reading the responses was very interesting not just because of their approaches towards Marxist and Feminist criticism but also as a kind of reader response.

Hope I selected passages you all like.

Veronica:

Elizabeth Ammons suggests that in the end, society kills Lily, retribution for her failure to obey to its mandates; social malice surfaces every time Lily shows the slightest spark of independent thought or action (especially when she is closest to cultural conformity). At one point, Lily calls herself a “bad girl,” but her classification of badness comes from sinking to society’s level whereas Tyson notes that the culture’s definition of the “good girl/bad girl” binary “impl[ies] that if a woman does not accept her patriarchal gender role, then the only role left her is that of a monster” (89).

Sarah:

Finally, I thought Wharton engagingly illustrated Thorstein Veblen's point that “The criteria of a past performance of leisure therefore commonly take the form of 'immaterial' goods. Such immaterial evidences of past leisure are quasi-scholarly or quasi-artistic accomplishments...” throughout the novel (293). Wharton is always criticizing her characters for their dilettantism – emphasizing the “quasi” quality of their accomplishements. Ned Silverton, for instance “had meant to live on proof-reading and write an epic, and... now lived on his friends and had become critical of truffles” (here Wharton also, interestingly, valorizes “serious” writers) (56). And she lightly mocks Lily's own intellectual pretensions, recognizing them as “merchandise:” Lily “prided herself on her broad-minded recognition of literature and always carried an Omar Khayyam in her travelling bag” (66).

Keen:

Marx, in his work Capital, put forth a biting critique of the valuation system inherent in the discourse of mercantilism/capitalism through simply describing the way in which such a system fetishizes the product and elides the labor behind it, effectively rendering the common worker invisible and voiceless. Wharton also employs this method of keeping up the appearance of objectivity in order to embed an implied critique within her text, especially in Book I. The reader is firmly embedded in the consciousness of Lily Bart, an upper-class woman who, at least in the beginning, move through her society in an uncritical way, but yet when the reader looks through her eyes, the constructed ideologies that hold her firmly in place become painfully visible.

Peter:

Cornwall asserts his authority by relying on gender roles, which equate masculinity with reason and femininity with emotion. For Kristeva, however, there is no difference between the terms “sex” and “gender.” As Tyson notes, “Patriarchy defines and controls the way we related to sex (female) and gender (feminine) as if they were the same thing” (Tyson 103). According to Kristeva, the interrogation of Gloucester demonstrates the symbolic dimension of language in which, “words operate and meanings are attributed to them,” (Tyson 103). In this scene, Cornwall, representing the patriarchy, attributes emotional hysteria to Regan’s words, “Wast thou not charged at peril.”

Thorsten:

Edith Wharton’s House of Mirth portrays the leisure class, which is a very though place for women. The protagonist is Lily Bart, who is (already) 29 years and (thus), in need of a husband. The male characters in House of Mirth are all depicted rich; they are millionaires who made their money in either in real-estates or in the financial world. The only thing that is missing is the right woman to marry. However, those potential women do not need to embody particular characteristics. They simply have to be pretty, well-dressed, good company, and a good reputation. In other words, they have to be pleasing the eye and the spirit.

Dono:

The novel [The House of Mirth] does show how social class is a dominant factor operative in American society during Gilded Era (between 1876 and 1901, approximately, when the novel is set), and cynically laughs at the idea of American dream which promotes hard working, living frugally, and saving – as part of Protestant ethics – as a certain way to social upward mobility (remember that upper crust depicted in the novel did not do any of these to earning their luxurious ways of living), giving the novel, according to me, rightful privilege to be scrutinized with Marxist criticism, but it does not in a meaningful way give insight on how its female characters were positioned or juxtaposed vis-à-vis its male characters.

Johannes:

This society in which Lily Bart is born and bred is one in which women take on an ornamental function, however, an important one. Lily is constantly aware of the fact that her future in this society can only be secured by marriage; not out of love but out of economic necessity. As Charlotte Perkins Gilman argues, marriage is “economic beggary as well as false attitude from a sex point of view” (291). She interprets the economic sphere as almost exclusively masculine. The economic and the social sphere in The House of Mirth, however, mutually interact. Sim Rosedale has had economic success. In order to translate his economic potency into social respectability within the highest circles of New York’s upper society, he needs a wife, a woman as beautiful, elegant, and well trained in the ‘art’ of conspicuous waste and conspicuous leisure (Veblen’s terminology) as Lily Bart. In the novel, the mutual interaction of social and economic sphere leads to the increase of both. Only in combination can the acme (summit) of socio-economic power be achieved.

Deconstruction and Reader Response

As I expected, the preoccupation of many of the responses this week was centered around the film Apocalypse Now. My classmates seem to find the movie as fruitful for analysis as I do, applying both the Deconstructive/Post-Structuralist methods we read about and the Reader Response angle of attack. The access points to the film range from very personal to highly theoretical, and reflect a variety of different moral/ideological schematics applied to the same central point of interest. This, to me, shows the effectiveness of both the Deconstructive and Reader Response modes in encouraging us to take inventory of both our own reactions, visceral and academic, to the text, and the various "fissures" or points of difference that we noted over the course of our exploration of the movie. Furthermore, as several of my colleagues point out, these methods are just as fruitful in application when one looks at King Lear, as the play is full of oppositions that are eventually broken down in the mind of the reader and in the text itself. Overall, this has been a very productive week on the response front, and I greatly enjoyed reading the insights of my fellow grad students.

Sarah Feldberg

I see Apocalypse Now, much like The Matrix, as a comment on the "death of all meaning." I saw Kurtz as the embodiment of the canon (I thought it interesting that he was a sinister and ambivalent figure - I thought in this way Coppola, like Conrad, trades on the notion of the learned man as a Faustian figure - this is also apparent in other nineteenth century fictions - i.e. the works of Hawthorne and James) and his death, of course, as the death of the canon. To return to the film's beginning, I thought the scene where Captain Willard cuts his hand and bloodies his bedsheets right before he's summoned to kill Kurtz looked like the scene of a birth. I thought it was interesting that "surfers" - affluent West Coast white boys - were an elitist sub-culture in Vietnam (and in America at the time). I thought the use of Wagner by the American troops was significant, as Wagner is often associated with fascism and nazism. I thought Michael Ryan's critique of the film's overt racism was engaging, though I think that Apocalypse Now, much like Heart of Darkness, sometimes "deconstructs" or criticizes discourses of racism and colonialism. For instance, Coppola seems to emphasize the irony - and the tragedy - of the scenario that unfolds when a Vietnamese woman throws a grenade into an American helicopter - moments earlier, viewers saw American soldiers bomb a Vietnamese school; this woman's insurrection seems entirely justified in light of this, and it seems short-sighted, imperialistic and sadistic when the flippant and often-criticized general calls her a "fucking savage."

Peter Murray

Reader-Response theory offers and alternative to the hierarchy of New Criticism and its universal themes. According ro Rosenblatt, the transaction between reader and text produces meaning. In the efferent mode, the reader focuses on the information in a text. In the aesthetic mode, the reader establishes a personal connection with the text, which reorients his or her understanding of the text. This approach differs from the New Critics' universal themes insofar as the reader individualizes the text's theme. The aesthetic mode participates in revealing a text as well as a reader's sense of morality. In addition, this theory fixes the problem facing New Criticism of finding the perfect analysis. Indeed, Reader-Response theory welcomes multiple readings and multiple interpretations. Instead of claiming that universal themes exist in the text and that is what makes a text canonical, Reader-Response criticism suggests keeping a text alive ad infinitum through the aesthetic mode.

Veronica Bruscini

King Lear and Apocalypse Now each feature evident ideological structure, especially as regards the power of language in forming identity. Rhetoric shapes language to impact an audience, weighing reactions to any given work through judgments and evaluations of the text's worldview. The "text," be it literature, film, or any other cultural production, employs various tropes to guide an audience's reaction and align their valuation with the creator's point of view. For example, the layers within King Lear's language include cultural codes which, though written to recognize and reflect the political concerns and ideologies of Shakespeare's day, remain potent illustrations of the ways language crafts social codes and cultural identity. Contemporary audiences have ample experience witht he influence of convention and the authority of language in shaping daily perceptions of reality.

Thorsten Schwaben

There are particular scenes that contradict Ryan's point of view that the movie advocates heroes and strong militarism, being in favor of conservative policy and blaming the mess on liberals. Ryan is using the binary conservative-liberal to interpret Apocalypse Now. However, I would argue that the film is based on irony to a large extent. Can you take Kilgore seriously? This guy with his cavalry hat (which, unlike a helmet, cannot resist a bullet), his obsession for surfing (think of the scene with the injured Vietnamese when Kilgore is about to take care of him but leaves the scene unsolved because he hears about the surfer guy; or when he was on the helicopter bombing the jungle and asks the surfer what he thinks about all this, but not referring to the war but the waves), his coolness (everybody is ducking when a grenade explodes but Kilgore does not even seem to notice), or his music (playing Wagner, Hitler's favorite composer). In addition, despite his obsession for surfing he never even came close to the water. And think of his name: Kilgore which carries the meaning of "to kill" and "gore" (blood). To me Kilgore is not a hero, he as a caricature (or a joke for that matter).

Johannes Weinreich

Civilization wants to occupy the wilderness, yet fails to do so. Early on into the movie, Willard is aware of this incapability. Neither can the American military defeat the Vietcong that are hiding in the wilderness, nor can a single soldier assassinate Kurtz (one missionary of the 'good' failed prior to Willard's attempt to defeat 'evil'). During one scene, Willard says something like: "Charging a man with murder in this place is like handing out speeding tickets at the Indy 500." This statement shows that he can only assassinate Kurtz because he himself functions outside of civilization. Thus, the movie does not resolve around the opposition of society and wilderness, or good contrasted by evil resolving in society's ultimate triumph as one would expect from the General's speech. Instead, it resolves around society's incapability to address the evil.
As I understood it, deconstruction is a tool that helps to critically approach a work of literature. Keeping deconstruction in mind, the reader is aware of the multiplicity of possible meanings and, therefore, also of multiplicity of interpretation. No one can claim to have found the universal truth. However, in my opinion, deconstruction takes apart and does not really worry about putting things back together. While I am somewhat able to follow the argument, I am personally not satisfied by it. I would like to find answers, not pose new questions when meaning is drawn into question.

Dono Sunardi

In exploring the theme of subjectivity in deconstruction, I review how I see the character of Colonel Kurtz. Early in the film, Kurtz is reported to be a once decorated army officer who for nobody knows why went insane. He becomes such a symbol of villain, a fixed identity we know from structuralism. I was almost expecting that this character would in all aspects embody the "badness." In other words, I want him to stay "bad" till the end, to stay the same in his "identity." But, when the movie shows an angle from his side, I learn that he becomes like he is for a reason. This does not change him as the antagonist of the film, yet it shocks me in the way that the term "villain" is not as fixed as it was before and as many Hollywood movies, including "The Matrix," tell me about "frozen identity" - my term on the superhero who will always be a superhero and the villain who shall be a villain forever no matter what. There is a human side in his becoming "horror" to many people. My "naming" to Kurtz has been, to a certain degree, hegemonized by a discourse, which for certain reasons, sometimes unconsciously, I take as granted. Deconstruction liberates me as a reader from such hegemonic situation and makes me learn how language is not a perfect and fixed tool of communication, but a necessary vehicle to see the world and ourselves. Deconstruction also revives the subjectivity to the degree that we must scrutinize whatever discourse claims to be the most objective - since there is nothing like that, but chains of subjectivity, an always postponed "truth."

Keen Hahn

According to Ryan, Apocalypse Now "argues for a forceful resolution to the Vietnam War" and "links the military argument to the conservative economic individualism that came to prominence in the US in the late 1970s and 1980s, immediately after the unsuccessful conclusion of the war" (58). This analysis is what Tyson would term a linguistic "grounding point," a place from which to begin a fruitful deconstruction of the film. Using Ryan's assessment, we can view the film in a series of binaries based on the message the text is meant to convey. Of course, good vs. evil is chief among these, followed closely by collective vs. individual, law vs. choice, and ambivalence vs. determination. Of course, all the latter terms in each opposition are ascribed to Colonel Kurtz and his actions upriver in Cambodia and are placed in the "privileged" position in the binary, whereas the former are applied to the US military bureaucracy and are the markers of marginalization, pushing those labeled with them to the periphery. However, with close analysis of the film, these oppositions easily implode themselves.

Week Six Responses

Today’s multiplicity of critical approaches owes a “tip of the hat” to Formalist/New Critical and Structuralist literary theories. Formalism, the “granddaddy” of literary criticism, holds little sway in contemporary application, yet many of its basic principles – specifically close reading and the interpretative uses of irony and paradox – serve as the foundations for theory today. Structuralism furthers this groundwork, creating a system for decoding both literary and socio-cultural signs. Consciously or unconsciously, some portion of each of these theories informs our approaches to literature and the wider world around us. -VB

“If we break down The Matrix’s plot, we will see that there are at least three broad characters generally found in every other story: the superhero, the damsel in distress, and the villain. Neo was the ‘superhero,’ the human beings who lived in the unconscious non-reality were the ‘damsel in distress,’ and the three agents were the representation of the ‘villain.’ The story is thus very conventional: the superhero, after suffering a great deal of difficulty and overcoming many obstacles, released the damsel from the hands of the villain and then brought his beloved to a new level. In Frye’s categorization, The Matrix is classified as comedy because ‘the protagonist and his beloved become the centerpiece of some sort of improved social order’ (222). The Matrix, seen this way, is actually structured in a very conventional way of story-telling: it is a typical Hollywood movie which reflects the belief . . . that somehow the good will overcome the bad. With Structuralist criticism, then, we may never find newness in the story since the structure greatly remains the same except for the ‘decoration’ and the way the story is told.” – Dono

“Paradox and irony are interwoven in a New Critical reading of Shakespeare’s King Lear. Gloucester first deems his legitimate and illegitimate sons naturally equal (which they are not in Elizabethan times) and only sees the truth when he is blinded. Another example is Edgar, who, dressed like a beggar, is encouraged by Albany to rule the kingdom. . . . Irony also contributes to the complex unity of literary language. Usually, one would expect the Fool to add a comic element to the narration; in King Lear, however, he constantly comments on Lear ironically. This irony (and sarcasm) is created out of the discrepancy between the truthfulness of the Fool’s words and the absurdity of the context in which it occurs. For example, he points out the reversed power structure between Lear and his daughters as early as Act I, Scene 4: ‘The hedge-sparrow fed the cuckoo so long, / That it’s had it head bit off by it young.’ Although Lear is still the king, he no longer has the power that comes with his position.” – Johannes

“In Lear, an intricate system of code switching is shown in Shakespeare’s many oscillations between blank verse in iambic pentameter and unmetered or common speech. This language use sets up a system of oppositions within the text that reveals which characters are truly moral and which are ‘base’ or manipulative. . . . A change in linguistic pattern [from blank verse to common speech] indicates that Regan and Goneril tend naturally toward speaking in a baser manner than is seemly for women of noble birth, implying through the significations of such language that they are therefore immoral or suspicious as, of course, they prove themselves to be. By contrast, those who code switch down to the common level in order to assume an alternate identity . . . are viewed as noble since their natural tendency is toward high speech and they only assume a baser form in order to protect those they care for. . . . Thus, we can see the fruitfulness of a Structuralist perspective on such a piece, which exposes the binaries the text creates without a bias toward either pole. [Furthermore] as the system of signifier/signified is arbitrary, the judgment of morality tied to these linguistic codes is wholly a construction and as such can bear no bias other than that which is ascribed to it.” – Keen

“Edmund’s obsession with the binary opposition of legitimacy versus illegitimacy functions throughout King Lear as an example of how structuralism reveals a text’s framework. Edmund’s invocation of Nature (1.2.1-20) exemplifies the synchronic tension between his brother’s legitimacy and his own ‘bastardy.’ Adopting a semiotic lens, the words ‘base,’ ‘bastard,’ ‘deprive,’ and ‘brand’ function as signifiers for the signified idea of social hierarchy. Edmund (Gloucester’s bastard son) is literally below Edgar (Gloucester’s legitimate son) in social status. Edmund acknowledges this above-below relationship through his pun, ‘Edmund the base / Shall top the legitimate.’ Edmund’s linear ambition advocates inverting the social hierarchy wherein, ‘gods, stand up for bastards!’ However, this soliloquy is addressed to Nature, which is cyclical. Edmund is ignorant that his linear ambition contradicts Nature’s cycle because he is robbed of experience and, by extension, language through the title ‘bastard.’” – Peter

“Phone calls literally frame each ‘descent’ into the Matrix: the film begins when ‘Trinity’ escapes agents by being beamed up in an urban phone booth (a scene that evokes that iconic sci-fi/adventure narrative, Superman), Neo’s first contact with the aptly named Morpheus (lord of sleep and dreams) happens via phone. The mysticism and potency surrounding the phone in The Matrix made me think of the phone in ‘Daddy’ (‘the black telephone’s off at the root, the voices just can’t worm through’) as an instrument of communication between the living and the dead, and also of the phone in Cold War films – a sinister black or red object which heads of state receive messages of imminent doom. I also thought the self-conscious meta-film traded on the telephone’s importance in film. Multitudinous movie plots have been propelled by phone calls – phone calls are often turning points or moments of revelation in a narrative – and the screenwriters/directors of The Matrix seem to lend the phone a certain iconicity.” – Sarah

“Structuralist and Formalist views imply that a text will not change and therefore is always perceived in the same way. And yet, texts undergo change as they are read over decades and centuries. Even if King Lear is about the deception of language and undermining somebody’s reputation, there are also other aspects to the plot that are perceived more predominantly at certain times than others. The reading of King Lear in 1607 is different from the reading 400 years later. Since language is ambivalent, at the same time the plot automatically becomes to some degree unstable. A plain statement of fact in 1607 might be seen as ironic in 2007. In addition, the way that readers react to a text depends on much more than structure. What about the dynamics between two particular characters? Where do their conflicts come from and what do they mean? As the amount of literary theories points out, there are many ways to approach a text and more issues to focus on that structure alone.” – Thorsten

“Glittering green, the Matrix presents itself as columns of glowing characters – numbers and letters – which, when organized into specific patterns, literally create the human race’s perception of the world around them. Lines and rows of symbols, markers which carry literal and literary significance, shape daily existence and everyday life as the majority of the world understands it. Ferdinand de Saussure studied words as cultural-linguistic signs consisting of a sound-image signifier and a conceptual signified. Understanding of these signs emerges from cultural conditioning and internalization of the structure for decoding language symbols. For the characters in The Matrix, the seemingly incomprehensible, streaming lines of computer coded text translate into visual realities. After being freed from the Matrix, Neo marvels that his newfound companions easily decipher distinct images from a code language he cannot “read;” having lived so long within the Matrix, he lacks the structural framework to interpret it from without. Neo does not see translatable differences in the signs on the screen and, lacking a perceptible differentiation between the code-words, is unable to recognize or identify anything in the language that structured his reality for his entire lifetime.” – Veronica

Week Three Responses

How should a literary class at universities held? What should be taught? And why is one author considered to be more important than others? There is not only one irrefutable answer to these questions; there are many (and very disputable ones, too). The core issue, however, that lays at the center of all the response papers is an answer to the question how different backgrounds, class, gender and ethnicity can enter the classroom and make it more diverse. Why is the canon predominantly white? How can marginalizing be challenged? Can the reader extend a text due to his own background? What are the problems of pairing texts? And which role plays the instructor's origin? The answers to all those questions have one thing in common: one can only expand the horizon of literary studies by bringing texts from all kind of authors together; inclusion instead of exclusion so that the canon of tomorrow will be more diverse.

"Of the three articles, John Schilb's "'Text,' 'Reader,' 'Author,' 'History,' in Introduction to Literature Courses," and Phillipa Kafka's "A Multicultural Introduction to Literature," articulate a hypocrisy in academia. Our foundations of Western literature, both creatively and theoretically, marginalize readers based on a scale that includes gender, race, and economics. However, we still consider Homer, Virgil, Dante, Chaucer, and Shakespeare as fathers of Western literature. Our class touched upon this last week, which I found interesting. Students can concentrate on contemporary texts, but without some kind of introduction to these canonical writers, layers of meaning can be missed." -Peter.

"I do agree with [Phillipa Kafka's] criticism that traditional view and material choice in introductory classes to literature are unequal in terms that they erase and marginalize women and non-whites. This has become unconscious; suggesting that what is socially constructed is believed to be natural. When people talk about "ethnic" writing, they imply the existence of "mainstream" (self) literature and "other," which is outside that mainstream ... Students in introductory classes, therefore, should be encouraged to consider literary vs. class, race, gender; literary vs. contemporary world; and literary vs. students' own values. Class should be organized to take on the qualities of a visit to a mammoth new multicultural supermarket in which a diverse and conflicting array of cultural values is spread out before students (p.180)." -Dono.


“John Schilb also focuses on a classroom that emphasizes on the student. He introduces “text,” “reader,” “author,” and “history” as categories that are accessible to the student. At the same time, they serve as an experimental ground on which literary theory can be investigated. For example, when he writes that the reader is himself an extension of the text (62) that needs to be interpreted, it can be implied that the diversity (also: multiple communal belonging) of the readers will result in various text interpretations. To Schilb, the classroom’s demographic range enriches the perspectives upon literature as well as the four terms on which he focuses. This approach ties in with Bleich’s concept of diverse communal belonging as well as Phillipa Kafka’s arguments that favor classroom focus on “explorations of diversity” (188).” –Johannes.

“Though purporting objectivity, both the “ideal” reader and the notion of universal literary meaning in a Candide-esque “best of all possible words” ultimately prove subjective as their “fixed” approaches are born of specific, defined worldviews. The claim of a literary “universal” instead stands as a means to structure the point of view of upcoming scholars and to perpetuate an idealized discourse. John Schilb notes that readers are texts in themselves, therefore reincorporating the reader into criticism and analytical processes is a crucial step; even when approaching a literary work from a socio-cultural or historical background, one’s own varying frame of reference, community values and life experiences shape the choice of theoretical application and methods of examination. Indeed, such an approach cannot be discounted, for if interpretation varies by experience, literary contexts broaden with each individual connection and specialized areas of study expand within their field and across disciplines.” –Veronica.

"Phillipa Kafka's distinctly feminist perspective on pedagogical strategies interested me - I feel that Kafka was a little more subtle about identity issues and subtly pernicious academic strategies than Schilb or Bleich. In fact, I found Schilb's Great White Male vs. black female syllabus had (at least for me) some problematic implications - though Schilb was obviously making an effort at expanding students' notions of the canon and their conceptions of racial identity, socio-cultural conventions, etc. I found that the way his course was structured was potentially alienating - and wrote at length about the assumptions Schilb aligns himself with ever so subtly. Then I deleted what I had written on the grounds that it was both intuitive and incendiary. And then I reread what Kafka had written (or rather quoted from Sandra Harding) about theories of "difference" in the classroom and the value of their expression. I do not know where this leaves me, working through my white guilt and yet trying to claim a voice in a cultural, and yes, sometimes even academic setting that devalues white women's writing and even late-twentieth century movements on the grouns that they are solipsistic; indulgent - white women talking endlessly about imaginary problems." -Sarah.

"David Bleich, in his essay, is supporting the idea that topics regarding race, class, and gender should transgress the ethnic and social borders so that students can related different topics to others. However, Bleich’s argument is that he equates his Jewish experience with that of African Americans. The first problem arising is that both scholars and students of African American literature, and African Americans can oppose this equation by arguing that their “immigrant experience”, the circumstances under which they came to the US and the situation they were facing are different. In addition to that, the process of emancipation is progressing in different speed. In that sense, different group are facing similar obstacles but the outline and perspective of their situation differ as well." -Thorsten.

"[Bleich's] method makes me very uneasy. He raises important points about psychological identification with various "communities," racial and cultural, but his logic feels restrictive and somewhat reductive rather than expansive and open like Schilb and Kafka. His anecdotes about identifying with the perspectives of Kafka (the author) and Toni Morrison make sense due to the linguistic similarities that he mentions, but his implications through his analysis of his students' responses that the vast majority of them are incapable of relating to Morrison's literature because they are from different cultural background (in most cases I suspect mainstream white) strike me as laden with isolationist intention and quite exclusive. In my view, while it is important to recognize the various cultural communities that exist, it is erroneous to build walls between each of these groups and posit that only certain members of certain communities can comprehend certain discourses. This excludes human experience to too great an extent for my comfort. I would much prefer to explore these various communities and, using the approaches of Kafka (the scholar) and Schilb, endeavor to create understanding rather than indicate that no such connection is possible." -Keen.