Wednesday, April 4, 2012

Oh Rufe.


Throughout the novel, I had been holding out for Rufus despite his later atrocities. I couldn’t help but have hope that he would turn out different from his father and not become the typical slaveholder. Looking at this all realistically, Rufus does treat his slaves much better than most of the slaveholders of the time. And I realize the necessity of taking into account that he is a product of his time, but since he has been exposed to these radical future ideals, it’s almost like a slap in the face. If Rufus, who has this  greater exposure, cannot beat the system of slavery in the south, who can?


The final scene between Rufus and Dana does not seem like the "final showdown" between the good and evil characters. This scene is much too sick and twisted to be at all glorified in my mind. I am having an extremely difficult time wrapping my head around this scene because so much is going on, both explicitly and subtly.

There are so many levels of complexity working together in this last scene. Rufus is going to rape Dana, his descendant. Dana is thinking about how easy it would be to let Rufus rape here. He doesn't want to hurt her, but he and she both know that he can and will if she resists. As it is, Dana and Rufus have had a very complicated relationship throughout his entire life. For Dana, she has been with Rufus almost continuously for the past several months, only going back to her own time for a few days. However,  Rufus has had Dana with him in relatively short chunks of time over the past twenty some years of his life.

Dana seems to think that they both need each other equally, she even says at one point that Kevin "doesn't understand how much they need each other" (or something to that effect). While it may be true that they both need each other, their roles in each others lives are extremely complex and differ drastically for each character. Both literally need the other to survive, Rufus needs Dana to keep saving his life and Dana needs Rufus to start her family blood line. However, Dana starts out as more of a motherly figure for Rufus and then as their age gap closes he begins to view her in more of a romantic way as the emotional half to his physical relationship with Alice. Thus making their relationship even more twisted.

It's difficult for me to talk about the relationship between Dana and Rufus in light of the final scene without ending up confused and feeling slightly nauseous. There is so much to discuss but in the end it all boils down to context. Rufus has spend his entire life raised in this awful oppressive system, and though what he does makes me sick, I can't help but feel sorry for him. Octavia Butler has succeeded in making me even more disgusted in what the antebellum south does to people and how easily humanity is broken.

Saturday, March 24, 2012

Forgiving


The recurrent theme in Octavia Butler’s Kindred of Dana forgiving Rufus came up several times during class discussions. This got me thinking more about the relationship between Dana and Rufus. It is easier to think that I would not have forgiven Rufus so easily for his repeat offenses. However, after further consideration, it makes more sense to me that Dana would forgive him so readily.

This change in my viewpoint came when I considered my own first experience in a setting so different from my own but with obvious culture ties. The summer after my freshman year of high school, I went on an Appalachian Service Project trip with a church that a family friend belongs to. We went to Inez, Kentucky to help repair the house of a family living in severe poverty. To give a bit of context, this town is almost entirely white. I was told that there was only one black family in the entire county. I spent a lot of time playing with the children of the family whose house I was working on. For me this was interesting because I have a little sister who was the same age as one of the children. These little six and seven year old girls went around dropping F-bombs and swearing like mad at everyone and everything because they didn’t know any better. At home, I would have been appalled and never would have tolerated my sister treating me in that way, but because of the context that I was in, I found myself instead forgiving these children and feeling sad for them as I tried to set them a good example.

Obviously my experience in KY was nothing like Dana’s experience on the Weylin Plantation, but I can say that because of this I was able to understand Dana’s readiness to forgive perhaps not only because of her familial and emotional ties, but also because the context is so different from what she is used to.


Thursday, March 8, 2012

Simple Moments

As we touched on in class, throughout Vonnegut's Slaughterhouse-Five the lack of explicitly explained emotions allows for the reader to experience their own emotions during the course of the novel. I found this book to be incredibly touching. I suppose that I tend to be easily moved by novels, but this one was powerful in a different way that I attribute to the moments that Vonnegut chooses to include in telling Billy Pilgrim's stories.

Vonnegut's portrayal of World War II and the outlook on human nature tended to leave me with a bleak feeling about the terrors of this world. So it was the moments of pure and simple humanity in Slaughterhouse-Five that illicited the strongest emotional reactions in me. Hopefully this example is not getting old, but the scene in the prenatal malt syrup factory where Billy sneaks Derby a spoonful of syrup "and then Derby burst into tears" is quite powerful (205).

Another similarly emotional moment is when Billy and a few other Americans are in the back of a horse drawn wagon and are going to look through Dresden's remains to see if anything is there worth salvaging. Billy lies in the back of the wagon asleep in the sun, enjoying what he might have chosen to be "his happiest moment" (249). A short time later, a couple of German doctors notice the poor condition of the horses pulling the wagon and scold Billy for their treatment. "When Billy saw the condition of his means of transportation, he burst into tears. He hadn't cried about anything else in the war." Because there are very few moments in the novel where a character cries, the moments when there are tears shed have a much stronger impact on the reader. In both of these cases, it is as if the men are unable to fully process or let themselves be vulnerable to their own emotional reactions to the horrors of the war that they have witnessed. So, their layers of masked and hidden feelings only show through when a small act of humanity occurs.

Monday, March 5, 2012

4 Dimensions

"That was I. That was me. That was the author of this book" (160). By occasionally inserting himself into the novel, Vonnegut adds a fourth dimension to Slaughterhouse Five. It is as if Vonnegut wants the reader to see the novel from a bit of a Tralfamadorian perspective, since they see in four dimensions all the time.

It is difficult for the Tralfamadorians to explain to humans how they see the world, because humans only see the world in three dimensions. I feel like Vonnegut is showing us how difficult it is to write a "war novel" that the reader will understand because there are "four dimensions" to war, one of which could be the experience of actually being there. It is impossible to fully explain this "fourth dimension" of the war to someone who was not experiencing it for themselves. So Slaughterhouse-Five is Vonnegut's "failed" attempt to portray a dimension or war that only exists for those who were part of the structured moments in the war.

Another example of how Vonnegut uses this fourth dimension would be the science fiction aspect and his similarities as an author to his main character Billy Pilgrim. "So they were trying to reinvent themselves and their universe. Science Fiction was a big help" (128). Billy Pilgrim is using science fiction as an escape from his reality. Vonnegut does the same. Vonnegut reinvents his war experience by means of science fiction. In fact, science fiction could be seen as another fourth dimension in the novel.

The reader cannot hope to fully grasp Vonnegut's fourth dimension of war, which is his experience of being there. Thus Vonnegut uses science fiction and the elements of time travel and Tralfamadorians as a fourth dimension to this "war story" so that the reader can at least begin to understand the experience of war (and in particular the bombing of Dresden) from a perspective that does not only see the typical, or "three dimensional," depiction.

Thursday, March 1, 2012

Vonnegut and Zusak in cohorts?

As I began getting into Kurt Vonnegut's Slaughterhouse Five, I was strongly reminded of Markus Zusak's novel The Book Thief. The Book Thief is set in Germany during WWII and gives the story of several civilians during the war. The narrator is Death. This is a strange way to narrate, but adds an element of "science fiction" that is similar to using Tralfamadore in a war novel. Both of these books seem to use their respective unrealistic aspects in order to make less honorable and more gruesome parts of the war have a stronger impact in the readers mind.

Right away, I noticed several similarities between the two novels and wondered if perhaps the two others might have fed off of each others ideas at all. After doing a little research, I did not find any conclusive evidence but did find a quote from Time Magazine agreeing with the similarities I am seeing "Zusak doesn’t sugarcoat anything, but he makes his ostensibly gloomy subject bearable the same way Kurt Vonnegut did in Slaughterhouse-Five: with grim, darkly consoling humor.” 


 In Slaughterhouse-Five, the Tralfamadorians discuss the structure of a moment like being stuck in amber. No one can change what happens because that is just how it is structured and always has and always will be. The Book Thief also gives a great importance to moments, but the narrator of Death describes them in terms of colors. Both novels also jump around quite a bit. Vonnegut has Billy Pilgrim jumping through time much more than Zusak uses this element, but Death also jumps around in time in his narrations.

The most striking similarity I found in Vonnegut and Zusak's style of telling a "war story" was the approach of flat out telling what is going to happen to a character before it happens, in particular telling how and when a character is going to die. In both novels, this worked to break the hope of the reader who is holding onto the possibility that said characters will make it through. There is always a part of me that wants the happy, or at least satisfying, ending for a character so knowing about their death in advance makes it sadder for me when it actually happens. Knowing and being reminded of Derby's death so often makes it difficult and all the more heart wrenching to read passages where Derby is writing to his wife not to worry because he "will be home soon."

Although Vonnegut and Zusak may not have been in cohorts while writing their books, both approach the "war novel" from a very different angle. Neither glorifies the war but rather present it in a way that makes WWII look pathetic and something to be ashamed of on both sides.

Thursday, February 9, 2012

The token white and black guys

Although it may seem like a strange comparison W. W. and Thor Wintergreen both play similar roles but on opposite ends of the color spectrum (literally and figuratively) in Reed's Mumbo Jumbo. It was brought up in class that Thor is like the token white guy. Some of the group members are wary of having Thor involved because of his race, however Berbelang stands up for him. Because of this reaction, the argument could be made that Berbelang wants Thor to be part of the Mu'tafikah so that they will have caucasian representation among their ranks.

I do not like how Reed let Thor's story play out. Thor appeared to be quite genuine in his motives for joining and helping the Mu'tafikah. While it may be true that he had not yet proven himself to the rest of the group, it seemed as though he would step up to the plate when given the opportunity. Instead, he caved in to Musclewhite sickeningly quickly. The points that Musclewhite made in order to persuade Thor to join his (the dark) side were supposed to make Berbelang look bad, and apparently to Thor this worked but to the reader it just made Berbelang look better. Musclewhite describes him as "The insolent freeman who will sit in the front of the bus and look about as if to say 'who don't like it?'" Rosa Parks anyone? In a modern day context Musclewhite's words do not sound so outrageous, making it even worse for Thor to have been so fickle. In light of this situation, the "token white guy" plays his part well showing that he is no more worthy of respect than the rest of the Wallflower group.

So how does this character of Thor related to the character of W. W? W. W. holds the role of the "token black guy" even more so than Thor. However, the main difference between what Thor and W.W. do for the novel is that Thor reinforces the idea that all of the white characters are the same, while W.W. helps to show how different the black characters are.

Woodrow Wilson is originally from Mississippi and moves to Harlem looking for a change from his ordinary life. W. W. has not yet been integrated into the Harlem Renaissance culture. In fact, he is less knowledgable on this subject matter than most of the white characters. Hinkle Von Vampton posts the sign "Negro Viewpoint Wanted" and W. W. takes the job. Hinkle assumes that all negro viewpoints are the same. He only needs this position filled so that his magazine will be somehow more credible now having  the "token black guy." His ignorance will only prove him wrong. W.W. seems only to go along with their requests because he doesn't know any better. Thus when his reverend father comes and takes him back to MS, the reader sees how different the environment that W.W. has been raised in is and sees that no matter what Hinkle wants of him, he could never effectively be the sought out Talking Android.

Wednesday, February 1, 2012

History as we [don't] know it

When I first pondered an answer to the question "what is the difference between fiction and history?" I focused mainly on the standards for a history compared to the standards for fiction. History is often thought of as fact-based while fiction thought of as "made-up." However, my closing thought was that fiction can also have as many truths as a history might, in which case they would not be so different. In light of having read Doctorow's Ragtime, I agree even more with my previous sentiment.

I am not saying that fiction and history are one and the same, but I am agreeing with Doctorow and White that they are closely intertwined. A fiction does not claim to be constructed entirely by events that "actually happened." The reader is not put under any illusions that there is a fact somewhere to back up what the author is saying. In Doctorow's essay "False Documents," there is a closing interview in which he says "I don't take a vow to be responsible. I'm under the illusion that all of my inventions are quite true. For instance, in Ragtime, I'm satisfied that everything I made up about Morgan and Ford is true, whether it happened or not." This is an incredibly bold statement that Doctorow makes. At first glance it might even seem outrageous. Yet he touches on the idea that something can have truth whether or not it "happened."

It is part of human nature for our understanding of the world to be based upon our metanarratives. No one's reality is going to be formed by the exact same metanarratives, but there are some broader concepts and narrations that affect the perceptions of many. History certainly plays a large role in these metanarratives, but I would argue that fiction plays an equally substantial part. Who is to say what "really happened" when every story is multifaceted? Is giving a partial truth the same as a lie? Doctorow's novel is considered to be fiction but is based both on historical and fictional events. In a sense, it could be argued that everything is fiction. The way we understand the world is no different than how Doctorow writes Ragtime; built upon history and fiction.

Finally, the idea that our metanarratives are formed by both fiction and history brings up the idea that history itself is built upon fiction. Humans make history. Humans record history. Humans understand history based upon our metanarratives. Since our metanarratives come from a combination of history and fiction, history as we see it is also a kind of fiction.