During our in-class discussion yesterday we talked about the fishing scene in Spain, which included Jake, Bill, and the good outdoors. There were two main points of interest brought up that I thought were interesting; what this trip did for Jake, and the 'bromance' (if you will) between Jake and Bill.
First of all, I think a very important thing to note is that fact that Cohn is not present during this particular point in the Spain trip. It's been clear throughout the entire duration of the book that Cohn has been a particularly grating part of Jake's days--it seems like any time they're involved in a situation together (the scene with Jake and Cohn plus Cohn's wife; the scene where Cohn decides to exercise his masculinity and demand that Jake revoke his "going to hell" sentiment; I'm sure there will be more the more we read), I wonder more and more why Jake is around him. Jake himself noted that he was Cohn's tennis friend, while Cohn considered Jake to be one of his besties--there's some incongruity there. With that in mind, the absence of Cohn provides Jake some relief, and a space in which I think he can authentically be himself. I think that Jake spends a lot of time putting up a facade, and with the advent of the whole Cohn-Brett situation (which, to him, shouldn't even be a situation to begin with) things have just been tense.
I was surprised when Bill brought up Brett. I'm 100% sure that an exchange like the one that occurred between Bill and Jake wouldn't have happened if Cohn had ended up coming along, after all. I also think their back-and-forth on the topic is illustrative of the relationship that the two men have.
Up until this point, Jake hadn't really been discussing "Brett business" much with anyone else but, well, Brett. I think it's really telling that Jake didn't tell him to shove off immediately, and that Bill felt inclined that he could ask such a question. Mr. Mitchell brought up the point of whether or not their friendship could be extended and called "brotherly love," but I think that's slightly more complicated. It's hard to really know what platonic love would look like for Jake, especially considering that he's a rather withdrawn person and doesn't share his feelings very often. However, I do think that there is something to be said for the fact that Jake and Bill can joke so freely with each other and even briefly bring up such topics as women.
Saturday, September 26, 2015
Tuesday, September 22, 2015
Reaction to "The Hours"
I had no idea what I was expecting from The Hours, but I held out the hope that it wouldn't be as imminently depressing as Mrs. Dalloway. The movie forced me to look at some very real and very intense themes regarding the nature of the human experience.
The film follows the lives of three women, all in different time periods: Clarissa Vaughn, Laura Brown, and Virginia Woolf. Clarissa, who resides in modern-day New York, wants to throw a celebratory party for her friend Richard, who is afflicted with AIDs. Laura is an unhappy, pregnant housewife in the 1950s, who struggles with the will to live and conformity. The movie covers Virginia Woolf as she wrestles with her mental illness while also trying to write her novel.
The first thing I noticed were the parallels between movie Clarissa and book Clarissa. Both of them are attempting to throw a party. Even though their reasons for doing so are different, I saw that both of them were still attempting to distract each other from their current lives. In the book, Clarissa says that she's throwing parties as an "offering" of sorts, and iterates that without her parties she doesn't really have much. (She doesn't know anything about those "equators.") In The Hours, Clarissa isn't officially romantically involved with Richard (who is a completely different character, and is most closely compared to Septimus), but is with Sally Lester ("Seton"). Despite already having a partner, she shares a tense and passionate kiss with Richard. When Richard continually refers to her as "Mrs. Dalloway," she feels snubbed; he's just pointing out the fact that Clarissa is using him as an escape and distraction from her own life.
There were three scenes that are I thought exemplified amazing cinematography. The first two were the beginning and ending scenes, where the opening and finishing lines of Virginia Woolf's suicide letter are read and Woolf slowly lets herself become engulfed by river rapids. Out of context, the scenes are still good, but I couldn't help but be completely struck by ending line, having actually watched the rest of the movie: "Always the years between us. Always the years. Always the love. Always the hours." It's a telling quote, presumably referring to how all of the women are connected through the years, and how love (or the lack thereof) was an important component to the women's plights.
The third scene that overwhelmed me was about Laura. She had dropped her son (a tiny, adorable Richard!) off, and had gone to a hotel to read Mrs. Dalloway and contemplate whether or not she would take her own life. She's lying on her bed, gazing at the bottle of pills next to her, when water rises up (sidenote: I was totally convinced for a second that it was CGI) from the sides of the bed and overwhelms her. She gasps awake after this, indicating that she didn't actually pass away by mysterious natural circumstances, but the relation to the book is interesting. Woolf often mentions "diving" and "plunging" in Mrs. Dalloway, and the imagery of water seems to suggest a lack of control and boundaries... but the opposite is true in the movie. Both women, Laura and Woolf herself, are portrayed as calmly succumbing to their fates; Woolf with the river, and Laura in the hotel. They both appear completely in control, despite the inner turmoil they're actually experiencing.
If someone has read Mrs. Dalloway, the film can give the reader food for thought to build on what they are already familiar with. Overall, The Hours is infinitely grim, yet satisfying.
The film follows the lives of three women, all in different time periods: Clarissa Vaughn, Laura Brown, and Virginia Woolf. Clarissa, who resides in modern-day New York, wants to throw a celebratory party for her friend Richard, who is afflicted with AIDs. Laura is an unhappy, pregnant housewife in the 1950s, who struggles with the will to live and conformity. The movie covers Virginia Woolf as she wrestles with her mental illness while also trying to write her novel.
The first thing I noticed were the parallels between movie Clarissa and book Clarissa. Both of them are attempting to throw a party. Even though their reasons for doing so are different, I saw that both of them were still attempting to distract each other from their current lives. In the book, Clarissa says that she's throwing parties as an "offering" of sorts, and iterates that without her parties she doesn't really have much. (She doesn't know anything about those "equators.") In The Hours, Clarissa isn't officially romantically involved with Richard (who is a completely different character, and is most closely compared to Septimus), but is with Sally Lester ("Seton"). Despite already having a partner, she shares a tense and passionate kiss with Richard. When Richard continually refers to her as "Mrs. Dalloway," she feels snubbed; he's just pointing out the fact that Clarissa is using him as an escape and distraction from her own life.
There were three scenes that are I thought exemplified amazing cinematography. The first two were the beginning and ending scenes, where the opening and finishing lines of Virginia Woolf's suicide letter are read and Woolf slowly lets herself become engulfed by river rapids. Out of context, the scenes are still good, but I couldn't help but be completely struck by ending line, having actually watched the rest of the movie: "Always the years between us. Always the years. Always the love. Always the hours." It's a telling quote, presumably referring to how all of the women are connected through the years, and how love (or the lack thereof) was an important component to the women's plights.
The third scene that overwhelmed me was about Laura. She had dropped her son (a tiny, adorable Richard!) off, and had gone to a hotel to read Mrs. Dalloway and contemplate whether or not she would take her own life. She's lying on her bed, gazing at the bottle of pills next to her, when water rises up (sidenote: I was totally convinced for a second that it was CGI) from the sides of the bed and overwhelms her. She gasps awake after this, indicating that she didn't actually pass away by mysterious natural circumstances, but the relation to the book is interesting. Woolf often mentions "diving" and "plunging" in Mrs. Dalloway, and the imagery of water seems to suggest a lack of control and boundaries... but the opposite is true in the movie. Both women, Laura and Woolf herself, are portrayed as calmly succumbing to their fates; Woolf with the river, and Laura in the hotel. They both appear completely in control, despite the inner turmoil they're actually experiencing.
If someone has read Mrs. Dalloway, the film can give the reader food for thought to build on what they are already familiar with. Overall, The Hours is infinitely grim, yet satisfying.
Saturday, September 19, 2015
Isolation in "Mrs. Dalloway"
There are plenty of themes that are brought to the table in Mrs. Dalloway. The novel makes commentary on both social class and relationships--but what about isolation itself? Even though Woolf makes a point of trying to understand characters through their interconnected interactions, there is a definite sense of isolation that many in Mrs. Dalloway experience.
It's very clear from the beginning of the novel that Septimus feels very disconnected from the world around him; he's cut off from his own emotions (he felt nothing at the news that his good friend had died), he struggles to understand and relate to Rezia, and he feels as if he has been cornered by humanity. In the case of the advertising airplane, which originally come across to me as an experience that was unifying for the citizens, Septimus is stricken with an entirely different feeling; he feels as if the words are trying to communicate something to him specifically, and feels enlightened. He's not connected to the people that are surrounding him, especially Rezia, who, upon seeing the word made by the plane, becomes depressed with Septimus' condition. It only serves to further isolate Septimus from the one person who would understand him best.
An obvious example of Septimus' isolation is the entire scene that leads up to Septimus ending his life. It starts out with paranoia rising up in Septimus Holmes was coming upstairs. Holmes would burst open the door. Holmes would say, ‘In a funk, eh?’ Holmes would get him. But no; not Holmes; not Bradshaw.") and continues with Septimus hurriedly trying to find ways to escape. Escape is key. Despite the fact that Septimus is surrounded by people that want to help him, such as Rezia and Bradshaw (supposedly) and Holmes (also supposedly), these forces are what eventually cause Septimus to permanently recede in on himself.
This is what I think makes Mrs. Dalloway incredibly ironic. Despite the focus on relationships, the characters seem to feel very, very alone, or unable to connect in a way that is "normal."
Richard. Richard ponders ways that he could say I love you to Clarissa, and the prospect unnerves him; it's something that he feel should be so easy and simple to do, but in the end, can't find the ability to muster the words. Instead, he relies on the bouquet of flowers to hopefully get this point across to Clarissa. Though their relationship seems to "work" without much error, and the gesture seems to be well-received by Clarissa, it's still something that should be questioned. Is Mrs. Dalloway really focusing on how minute interactions between people make a significant impact and show character, or is the novel just a conglomeration of isolated individuals desperately trying (and failing) to connect with each other?
Clarissa's parties would seem to indicate the latter. The goal of parties is to ultimately bring people together, but think of what sorts of people have been brought together: individuals that feel isolated. Clarissa isn't having a great time at her own party, and neither is Peter. She takes the time to make her rounds to all of the disjointed couples and people that have turned up, but no one really seems to be enjoying themselves.
It's funny--in the end, Clarissa ended up feeling the most sincere connection with Septimus (who she didn't know!) and an old woman she had seen through a window. Mrs. Dalloway is just a cycle of isolation, and the bigger the facade the characters seem to put on, the more lonely they end up being.
It's very clear from the beginning of the novel that Septimus feels very disconnected from the world around him; he's cut off from his own emotions (he felt nothing at the news that his good friend had died), he struggles to understand and relate to Rezia, and he feels as if he has been cornered by humanity. In the case of the advertising airplane, which originally come across to me as an experience that was unifying for the citizens, Septimus is stricken with an entirely different feeling; he feels as if the words are trying to communicate something to him specifically, and feels enlightened. He's not connected to the people that are surrounding him, especially Rezia, who, upon seeing the word made by the plane, becomes depressed with Septimus' condition. It only serves to further isolate Septimus from the one person who would understand him best.
An obvious example of Septimus' isolation is the entire scene that leads up to Septimus ending his life. It starts out with paranoia rising up in Septimus Holmes was coming upstairs. Holmes would burst open the door. Holmes would say, ‘In a funk, eh?’ Holmes would get him. But no; not Holmes; not Bradshaw.") and continues with Septimus hurriedly trying to find ways to escape. Escape is key. Despite the fact that Septimus is surrounded by people that want to help him, such as Rezia and Bradshaw (supposedly) and Holmes (also supposedly), these forces are what eventually cause Septimus to permanently recede in on himself.
This is what I think makes Mrs. Dalloway incredibly ironic. Despite the focus on relationships, the characters seem to feel very, very alone, or unable to connect in a way that is "normal."
Richard. Richard ponders ways that he could say I love you to Clarissa, and the prospect unnerves him; it's something that he feel should be so easy and simple to do, but in the end, can't find the ability to muster the words. Instead, he relies on the bouquet of flowers to hopefully get this point across to Clarissa. Though their relationship seems to "work" without much error, and the gesture seems to be well-received by Clarissa, it's still something that should be questioned. Is Mrs. Dalloway really focusing on how minute interactions between people make a significant impact and show character, or is the novel just a conglomeration of isolated individuals desperately trying (and failing) to connect with each other?
Clarissa's parties would seem to indicate the latter. The goal of parties is to ultimately bring people together, but think of what sorts of people have been brought together: individuals that feel isolated. Clarissa isn't having a great time at her own party, and neither is Peter. She takes the time to make her rounds to all of the disjointed couples and people that have turned up, but no one really seems to be enjoying themselves.
It's funny--in the end, Clarissa ended up feeling the most sincere connection with Septimus (who she didn't know!) and an old woman she had seen through a window. Mrs. Dalloway is just a cycle of isolation, and the bigger the facade the characters seem to put on, the more lonely they end up being.
Wednesday, September 16, 2015
My Impression of "Mrs. Dalloway"
Transitioning from The Mezzanine by Nicholson Baker to Mrs. Dalloway by Virginia Woolf was significantly challenging for me.
Howie, the "protagonist," if you will, was extremely straightforward in his explanations and presentation of the world. He had a lot to say about, well, everything! He filled the reader in non-linearly on background and context of what was happening with surface reactions. For example, in his conversations with his coworkers, he carefully pulls apart the societal concerns, wondering whether or not things would be proper improper or awkward. I liked how things were narrated; even though there were long and winding sentences, they were straightforward and easily graspable.
However, Mrs. Dalloway was a completely different novel in terms of narration. Woolf enjoys long, winding sentences, connected with a long series of semicolons. In terms of narration... there isn't really a definitive narrator. The phrase mentioned in class was "free indirect discourse," which Woolf uses to delve into the personal lives and thoughts of several characters, as opposed to just one as we see in commonly with first/third person speech.
We discussed Woolf's goal of being able to capture the human essence, and to really explore what characters were like, and her use of free indirect discourse captures this well. At first, it was really hard to adjust to the fact that I was getting a look at not only Clarissa's point of view (which I had expected), but characters like Peter Walsh and Sally Seton. It's integral to the plot to be able to see how characters other than Clarissa move about their day; we wouldn't be able to fully understand just how caught up Peter was with Clarissa, or background information on other characters.
Seeing Clarissa from another perspective is integral. We already know what Clarissa and her motives appear to be just based on what she's thinking about her parties, but knowing Peter's perspective is invaluable. We see Clarissa notice Peter, who is sulking and watching her at her party. However, we also see Peter scoff and curse Clarissa as she travels between her guests, being the "perfect hostess." It causes the reader to notice how unaligned the characters are; not only in their own thoughts, but in how they think other characters might be thinking about them.
This back-and-forth narration could definitely be confusing, but overall, I think it's what the novel needed to get Woolf's point across: all characters are somehow interconnected, and this connection is important to understanding people themselves. From Clarissa's housemaid and her fascination with Elizabeth to Septimus and his case against humanity, all characters are related. With many other novels it would be impossible to see this link between characters when we're mostly only presented with their surface actions and the thoughts of only a single person or two.
This back-and-forth narration could definitely be confusing, but overall, I think it's what the novel needed to get Woolf's point across: all characters are somehow interconnected, and this connection is important to understanding people themselves. From Clarissa's housemaid and her fascination with Elizabeth to Septimus and his case against humanity, all characters are related. With many other novels it would be impossible to see this link between characters when we're mostly only presented with their surface actions and the thoughts of only a single person or two.
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