"The Book Was Better"

While discussing the Titanic in English I could not help myself from noticing that almost everyone compared Thomas Hardy's(who's name reminds me of the actor, Tom Hardy every time I see it) poem "The Convergence of the Twain" with James  Cameron's film Titanic. While we did juxtapose the  two tones regarding the event; awesome (in the litter, "evoking awe" sense) and tragic, respectively, we never touched on our perceptions of the film at all. This, of course, did not need to happen, Hardy's poem certainly had enough literary merit to discuss for the entirety of class. In fact, I am glad we never discussed it, now I can hoard this knowledge onto my blog. Anyway, I felt that we all made subconscious connections to the poem and the movie, and eventually everyone made a decision whether the film or the book did a better job of expressing the events pertaining to the Titanic. Now, Cameron did not base his film off Hardy's poem, but it still allows me to delve into my topic of the "the book was better" phenomenon. I am a firm believer that anything can get adapted into a spectacular film, but to do that one would need to rip its guts apart until it hardly resembled it's original form, to put it simply: I could make a paper airplane out of the Mona Lisa, but why should I? Given this belief, I usually advocate looking to the source material for any kind of artistic work, so I am in great support of this thought process, or at least an equal examination of both of the works side by side.

One film/book I would like to focus on specifically is Mary Harron/ Brett Easton Ellis's "American Psycho". I want to focus on this film, not as an example of how the original worked better and so on, but how one should properly adapt a novel into cinematography without butchering the source material or seeming to confusing, or bloated (Zoolander, a film based on an Ellis book Glamorama, and Watchmen serve as good examples for these respective result). American Psycho does not fall into the horror genre, but the satire genre. While horrifying, the book mainly focuses on the rampant and vapid consumerism of the protagonist as well as his, quite literally, cut-throat business strategies. The work satirizes the capitalism and consumerism of the 1980s and both film and book capture it perfectly, but in different ways. For example, the famous business card scene barely happens in Ellis's book, but Harron does not show the protaganist, Patrick Bateman's, obsession with designer clothes (going to the point of narrating every single brand someone that he meets wears. One of the major complaints I also hear when adapting a novel is when parts get left behind on the cutting room floor. However, some cuts need to happen; nobody will print a film that involves the highly graphic murders Bateman commits (one can see this with other films too, A Clockwork Orange had to change the ages of almost all of the characters because two adults having sex appeals more than a 15 year old raping two girls 5 years his minor) and some things just tend to drag or does not make sense. For example, for the last hundred pages or so of the novel, Bateman believes he is being followed constantly...by a park bench(which could lead me into a discussion about unreliable narration, but I will abstain), and while I love these delusions he has, the human psyche is not easy to transition into film without seeming completely out of place. So, final word: just because the film left something out does not mean they forgot or did it on purpose, they needed to do it, and some books work better as books and adapting them just does not seem practical.

Now that I am done with this, will you please excuse me? I have to return some videotapes.

A List of Literacy

5. Structure and mechanics serve just as important a purpose as your actual writing. For the longest time I believed that if I wrote a good enough paper I would not have to worry about any problems regarding grammar, the excellence of the actual writing would surely outweigh all the mechanical errors I made. Obviously this does not prove to be the case; you might write the greatest paper ever, but without good grammar and mechanics no one will understand what you wrote.

4. It turns out that writing is a scary, scary abyss that one can get lost in without a magical little tool called "pre-writing". Before I would think up one main theme or idea for the paper, jump right into the beginning, and then come up with all my examples along the way. Planning ahead essentially turns writing an essay into a connect the dots puzzle (execpt you created the dots and pattern, but I digress) from some horrible maze to try to find that one example that fits what you have tried so hard to put forward.

3. I am the Devil's Advocate. Through writing I have discovered that I often take unconventional opinions when offered a choice, not due to my unconventional beliefs, but because I love watching reactions of others to unpopular, sometimes even offensive opinions.  Basically, I am the guy who cheers for the bad guys to get everyone else mad; that will keep everyone arguing on a topic we all agree on just to argue something.

2. I have a bipolar writing tones. I often find myself, especially when writing these blogs, almost writing two completely different entries on the same topic: one humorous and one serious. It really can turn into a horrible problem when I have thought of a very clever and witty joke for the topic I writing about, but really probably should not put anything there due to the subject matter or reactions I would receive (I imagine some half offended-half amused laugh, or just absolute disgust). Maybe one day I can start writing one half under a pseudonym and turn into some half famous person that everyone sort of likes, maybe.

1. I do not write like anybody else. To sum up my most important realization, I always thought that most people wrote exactly the same way; we all wrote like awkward highschoolers and nobody really differed except for a few differing examples. I thought that writers got their books published due to a unique voice that did not resemble 99% of the population. Now I know the truth: we all write differently and writers get published due to their talent, not uniqueness, just because we all have our own little quirky writing styles does not mean they resemble anything worth publishing; "being special does not mean you are useful" happens to be the phrase I relate to the most on this subject.

Well that ended on a rather low note. By the way, to keep with my film-based theme, I watched Spartacus over the weekend.

Два человека смотрели на мой блог из России

I Felt Bad for Hitler

Pick your least favorite character in all of John Kennedy Toole's A Confederacy of Dunces. Pick the three that seemed completely irrelevant to the story, the three that you could not wrap your mind around, the three that seemed to simply exist without purpose, and so on. Now become them. Envelop their very existence; you have now taken the name of Timmy, Liz, Dr. Talc, and many others that you just judged so harshly. When I needed to write a poem on a character I felt had no purpose in the story; a character that I despised for wasting time in the book I panicked, I had no idea how I could pull off such a personal thing like writing a poem from their perspective. The only time I had felt similar to how I felt after writing my poem from the perspective or Mr. Gonzalez (said emotion could simply get categorized as an odd feeling of sympathy despite still holding strong negative feelings) was when I sympathized with Hitler that one time.

Okay, wait, hold on one minute, let me explain myself.

Said moment happened while I watched the German film "Der Untergang", translated to "Downfall", which follows Hitler's secretary during the final days of World War II in the Fuhrer-Bunker in Berlin (you might have seen a scene from the film with false subtitles on YouTube, just by searching the man's last name results in one of these parodies as the number one hit). The people in this film, all Nazi's by the way, go from a sense of naive optimism to crushing depression and hopelessness, and Hitler comes as no exemption to this. One still gets reminded of his horrible regime and the atrocities he committed, but one also sees his entire life fall apart, and that does not come easily for anyone. The film gets you with this emotion, it knows that you felt bad for Hitler, the evilest man to ever live, and then it makes you think about the implications of it and forces you to see why you exactly felt sympathetic to his misery. Do not be fooled through, the film does not try to show him in any kind of positive light, it just wants you to realize how one can feel pity and sympathy with even the personification of evil and atrocity.

Now I'm not saying that writing a poem from Mr. Gonzalez's perspective had nearly as much of an impact as feeling sympathy for Adolph Hitler, but the same emotions occurred at both events, so I thought it would be appropriate. I feel it appropriate to stress the point that such action comes as a reminder for us humans that nobody has a completely evil persona, despite views.

Finally, for fun, I'll give you a hypothetical question on ethics: "It is 1933. You are in Berlin, Germany. Somehow, you find yourself in a position where you can effortlessly steal Adolf Hitler's wallet. This theft will not effect Hitler's rise to power, the nature of World War II, or the Holocaust. There is no important identification in the wallet, but the act will cost Hitler forty Reichsmarks and completely ruin his evening. You do not need the money...Do you steal Hitler's wallet?"

Ignatius meets Nurse Rached

Today in class we discussed the ending of John Kennedy Toole's A Confederacy of Dunces and I learned, much to my surprise, that a significant number of my classmates wished Ignatius had ended up in the mental institution at the end of the book, instead of making a mad escape to New York. All I could think of was how awful this situation would turn out for him when taking into account the very non-conformist nature of his personality and the state of metal hospitals in the 1960s (think less 'rehabilitation center' and more 'pen of crazy people').While Kelly made this point in class before I had the opportunity to, I would like to delve deeper into the subject and state why I believe sending Ignatius to a mental asylum does absolutely nothing beneficial to both parties and could serve as the absolute worst idea someone could have in regards to getting Ignatius more socially acceptable. I envisioned Ignatius' stay at the mental ward to draw many similarities to McMurphy's in the novel and film One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest; he would rebel against the authoritarian staff and create a whole slew of problems for himself. In Cuckoo's nest, the protagonist also does not belong in the hospital, as he faked a mental illness to get out of a more cruel jail sentence, and starts to regret his decision as he can not stand the near complete lack of freedom such a psychiatric ward limits. Also note that Ken Kessy (the author) released his novel in 1962, the exact same era Ignatius lives in. In the hospital they keep the patients sedated and offer absolutely no stimulation; Ignatius knows this and does not want them to tamper "with [his] soul and world-view and mind" (384). I predict that if Ignatius had gotten admitted to such an institution he would end up in the same ending as McMurphy: a shell of his former self, completely reduced to something more akin to an animal than a man; only capable of basic tasks. Ignatius' mind, specifically his higher education, causes many of his problems, but without said mind Ignatius gets reduced to absolutely nothing of significance. His nature and superiority complex would cause him to rebel and the next thing he knows his 10 years of college education is lying on an operating table, and Ignatius does not have any tall Native American friends to help him out of his situation.

They Watch Me As I Type

This weekend I got out of bed, drove halfway into town and then stood outside of Starbucks, watching men and woman carry on their Saturday afternoon. I am supposed to count the number of times one of these people says "Hi" to me, all the while I am supposed to decipher their schedules; learn where their they have visited, where they plan to go, and so on. I am supposed to eavesdrop on their conversations, completing my surveillance of the people who made the mistake of walking near me that fateful Saturday morning. I was then instructed to write about other people, realizing that I "live in a 'bubble'". Now, this experience did give me a sense of the bubble we live in. It also gave me the sense that I would be a really good member of some kind of Totalitarian Governments Secret Police, and there comes a film. I came home and instead of immediately writing poetry, I watched "The Lives of Others" a German film revolving around the life of a high up Stasi officer and the Playwright he gets assigned to do surveillance on. The film goes through the waning days of the Berlin Wall and explores the themes of isolation, corruption, and the power of observation on a human mind. The officer ends up growing a soft spot for the playwright as he observes his relations with his wife and circle of friends. Said emotion, however, gets juxtaposed with his very cold and pragmatic witness reports, that state only the facts with a required reporting of any anti-state activities. A massive crisis of faith occurs part of the way through the film, as one of the writer's friends gets blacklisted from working and takes drastic measures to try to reverse his blacklisting so he could work again. I experienced a conflict of motives while completing my task as well; a number of times I wanted to interject my opinion into a conversation, but had to stop myself as I could "not talk to anyone". The Hawthorne Effect states that one changes their behavior when they know they are being observed. Well, why could not one alter their behavior when observing others as well? This seems, to me, one of the many factors that physical action alters when thinking about and writing poetry, and now I see how important actually completing these actions really were for my poetry.

12 Socially Conforming Jurors

If one looks closely at the film 12 Angry Men (the Henry Fonda version, none of the other ones) one sees multiple themes and messages about a whole cornucopia of justice-related topics. From the difference of legal justice and moral justice; the effect of bias; commentary on the death penalty; and many others, one in particular stands out to me: the power of groups. So how does this relate to English Class? Well, in John Kennedy Toole's A Confederacy of Dunces one gets subjected to almost constant group-thinking. For example, Claude blames every negative aspect on his life on a single group, "'communiss"'(265). Claude does this as an easy way for him to not face the negative aspects of the world, it is simply much easier to group problems on to an already demonized group because accepting that some people we know and like cause some of the problems in the world. Mrs. Reilly, though, easily has the worst case of this issue. I have heard this point brought out countless times in class; that she simply conforms to what others say, just agreeing with the last person to speak an opinion, no matter how uninformed, hurtful, or biased it may have been. Ignatius also portrays a slightly different version of this trope; he gets shunned against society, even when people haven't met him, Ignatius is the factor causing the conformity in this case. In 12 Angry Men nearly all of the men get subjected to this kind of social ousting at sometime throughout the film, whether it stem from their opinion on a piece of evidence, the guilt or innocence of the accused, or simply their actions in the deliberation room. Characters form their opinions on what others think, and it comes through as a major part of the message; that one should hold true to their ideas if they collide with the group's opinion. Well, now I think it has come time for me to needlessly plug that I and fellow classmate Elise Manchester are both in the High School's production of 12 Angry Men (titled 12 Angry Jurors for obvious reasons) and you should all come to see it this weekend.

The Isolation of Two Minds

The game we played in class reminded me of a film, in this case the film is Moon, a film written and directed by Duncan Jones (David Bowie's son) and starring Sam Rockwell. The film focuses on the isolation of the human mind; Rockwell is the only physical character present through the entire film (Kevin Spacey does do vocal work for the robot watching over him) and shows his slow mental deterioration over three years on a lunar mining facility. During class today, we were paired with one of our peers at random, and we waited through the rest of the intellectual battles for our turn in the Smart or Smarter ring of honor. Much of today's conflict came internally form the stress of who we would be facing off against as well as whether or not we believed ourselves capable of beating our opponents in a battle of wits. Moon plays out in much the same way. The protagonist, Sam, starts to suspect that the company he works for has hidden something from him and he starts a game of intellectual cat and mouse in order to try to find his perceived truth while still making his way home to his wife and young daughter. Now, a simple game of Smart or Smarter does not hold nearly as much weight as trying to get through space to get back to one's family; the consequences for both do not nearly come close either; if one loses the 'Smarter' title one only loses bonus points, while the consequence for Sam if he fails is certain death. I just find it funny how intense focus on one topic can do funny things to people, whether the effects come as hallucinations or mental deterioration (in Sam's case) or very in depth analysis of a sentence (in the AP English case). From a psychological standpoint the isolation of social creatures, such as humans, creates a unique mindset that can either create some of the most brilliant works a human mind can produce (just look at all the recluse authors like Salinger, Lovecraft, Dickinson, etc.) or completely destroy all traces of logic and sanity. Its a fine line we walk and, while the game today barely touched on it, watching others walk it can be one of the most fascinating things I've seen in a while.

Stanley Kubrick's Full Metal Jacket and Ignatius; or, why Myrna is turning her former friend into a spree killer.

In discussion today, Leslie brought up a film, Bridesmaids, and claimed that one of the characters in said film could be related to Ignatius. Well, having a great deal of film expertise, I quickly have racked my mind and have also found a character that relates to Ignatius. In Bridesmaids the Ignatius parallel receives some positive punishment and ends up motivated and gets a happy ending. Now, in juxtaposition, may I introduce to those that have lived under culture-blocking rocks Stanley Kubrick's Full Metal Jacket. This film follows a cynical and pragmatic marine through the Vietnam War from Basic Training to the Tet Offensive, exemplifying the horrors and primitive nature of war through his eyes. In bootcamp, the protagonist, Private Joker, befriends a social misfit(this film's Ignatius parallel), Private Pyle, and watches as he slowly goes insane from the stress of training. This training works the same way as in Bridesmaids, and the same way that Myrna has used to motivate Ignatius; they are degrading, punishing, etc. them in order to cause a lifestyle change. This may work in Bridesmaids, but in Full Metal Jacket (note I am going to spoil part of this film, it was released over 20 years ago and is quite popular) Pyle goes on a psychotic rampage, killing both himself and his drill instructor. In my opinion, someone, such as Ignatius, with such a disconnected view of the world, someone who has very little connections to other, someone who Myrna indirectly characterizes as "a sick, reactionary villain" is NOT someone who should be bullied into conforming to more tolerable lifestyles (80). I understand that boot camp training is a much more severe instance of positive punishment than the example in Bridesmaids, but the possibility is still there. On one side, Ignatius could go the route of Bridesmaids and turn his life around, or he could take the darker route of Full Metal Jacket and end up believing blood "makes the grass grow". In my opinion, Myrna's letter to Ignatius and her whole method of trying to get him to relate to the outside world seems, to me, a complete gamble on Ignacius's sanity, and considering that he said he would "'Show this offensive trollop [Myrna]"' seems to imply he is growing into a nice little psychopath (81). Sometimes playing along with someone's behavior, despite how ridiculous it may seem, works better than shoving an ideology down their throats.

"And now for something completely different"

After reading Jennifer Egan's A Visit from the Goon Squad I had to ask myself a few questions about the ending and, honestly, I would like to ask the author herself some of them. Time skips occur frequently throughout the book, in one chapter characters two characters date, in the proceeding the characters would have already have long since broken up. Egan usually does a fantastic job of explaining this, she writes in a very matter-of-fact tone, directly giving character's true emotions, fates, and intentions. However, in the end  the time-skip paired with a primary theme of the book confused me about the intentions of Egan's work as a whole. In the thirteenth and final chapter, the narrator heavily implies a sort of dystopian future, matter-of-factly revealing a future containing "two years of war and surveillance" (335). This massively long war and Orwellian surveillance may come as a hyperbole to further enhance the restrictions and troubles of living in modern America. However, if taken literally, this completely changes the genre of the book. Egan makes one of her major themes from the vert beginning the blandness and lifelessness of modern music. She expresses this through one of the primary characters, Bennie, who looks for "muddiness, the sense of actual musicians, playing actual instruments, in an actual room" (22). Now, I took this as a warning to stay away from the digitized, perfect, and staged music that has come spewing out of the music industry today. Egan further supports my views by constantly alluding to real, more muddy bands throughout her text, that one of the characters listen to, or talk about. This may seem a bit far-fetched, but this dystopian future could act as a final warning against the evils of music turned into an industry. This could serve as an implication of both the importance of music in our lives, and the influence corporations have on the world. If Egan actually intended this as a sort of message from the future, final warning then it changes A Visit from the Goon Squad into a dystopian novel set primarily in the actual downfall of society, unnoticed by the average citizen, from a character study of a group of friends over a massive time span that happens to end in a dystopia. So, if I wanted to ask Jennifer Egan a question on A Visit from the Goon Squad, I would ask her about the possible dystopian message, and genre she may or may not have intentionally put into her book.

Writing. Differently.

The first thing I and, as I suspect, many of my peers did when I began to read Jennifer Egan's award winning novel A Visit from the Goon Squad was flip through the pages to see how many pages our new book had in it. On our way to page 340 my peers and I noticed a startling anomaly beginning at page 234, seemingly titled "Great Rock and Roll Pauses by Alison Blake" and ending at page 309 (234). This chapter, or story, comes as a PowerPoint presentation from Sasha's daughter, Alison, about her brother Lincoln's obsession with pauses in rock music, her father's effect on his family, and the abnormalities in their day to day life. The anomaly certainly served as a blessing to me, and others if I may infer so much about my fellow classmates, due to, not only the lack of writing, but also exactly how Egan wrote it. While most people, including myself, enjoyed the former due to the lack of reading required, I personally enjoyed the typography used by Egan to evoke her character's emotions. The pathos that heavy typography can evoke can not compare to any other type of writing, no matter how proficient the author. I have a deep seeded love for this kind of intense typography after experiencing it in the entirety of another book (actually the best example of typography I have ever seen or heard of) Mark Z.Danielewski's House of Leaves. The book's writing evokes so much emotion and creates much more immersion than if Danielewski had merely wrote the novel like any other (an example of his text below). In the picture, he breaks the text into five different sections, gives the reader no indication of which to read first, and worst of all they all relate to entirely different subjects; The farthest left simply is a list of houses, the two squares are a list of supplies for some unknown project (the left one is the list on the previous page mirrored, as if it had bled through the page), the middle text comes as a argument between two friends over their current situation inside the titular house, the footnote is an anecdote about explorers trapped in a cave in Borneo, and the extreme right column is a list of unknown names upside down. This text style occurs for about twenty pages, adding columns, taking some away, until a final statement at the end of the section states "Picture that. In your dreams"(House of Leaves, 141). This section parallels the characters fright and confusion at their situation and genuinely leaves the reader feeling the exact same way. While Danielewski's book operates this way the entire time, Egan's only happens for one chapter, but I still enjoyed that chapter very, very much. The section about what Alison hears when falling asleep made itself my favorite in the chapter, the simple diction between her and her brother expressed through fragmented, monosyllabic (what an ironic word), sentences creates a sort of empathetic bond and parallel between the narrator and the reader. I personally have had some midnight discussions about nothing, just tossing one word out at a time, to waste time before falling asleep, it evokes a sense of nostalgia. This bright feeling, Egan then juxtaposes with the eerie "' Okay. I know'" (302). These statements have multiple interpretations, one coming as the last thing said before Alison fell asleep, the other coming as some kind of omission from Alison herself. The former just creates more nostalgic pathos, while the later, when paired with the logos given prior about her families problems, most notably her father's drinking, implies something much darker. The alteration of both delivery, as plain text, not speech bubbles, and font support the later, shifting the tone to care-free to tense, in my opinion, and made me very sympathetic toward both Lincoln and Alison. This use of typography by Egan certainly improved my relation to the book, and gave her some significant merit in my further adventures in book reading; I greatly admire her typography due to the pure emotion and immersion it brings while reading A Visit from the Goon Squad.

The Joker and The Thief

In the preliminary chapter of Jennifer Egan's Pulitzer winning fiction novel A Visit from the Goon Squad she introduces the protagonist of the Found Objects, the first chapter (or short story, pending on whether one views the work as a compilation of interwoven stories or a novel told from many perspectives): Sasha. Sasha, to me, defines a person I want to embody. Her job with Bennie proves to be interesting, enjoyable, and laid back. Also, her kleptomania has me intrigued. If I were to embody Sasha, I would turn my mental handicap into something useful, I'd make it seem like a talent. Sort of like those insomniac detectives in old Noir Films, only instead of inability to sleep I would turn my kleptomaniac self into a sort of Robin Hood type figure. Sasha appears throughout the book, popping in everywhere in character's lives as either a fringe memory of someone they met once or a major influence in the chapter's protagonist's life, and she has the main focus of the beginning chapter. The title, "Found Objects" works as a sort of double entendre; one interpretation relates to the objects themselves, getting 'found' by Sasha, the other interpretation comes from a place, the 'Lost and Found' a place where people take lost objects to help their rightful owners to find them(3). If one further examines the later take on the title one can see a very prominent aspect into Sasha's constant thievery. If the objects she steals are the "Found Objects" then they were considered lost before the pilfering. This implies that Sasha views herself above others, above their material wealth, and above their rights and opinions; she steals almost without remorse for those who she steals from, and recognizes that '" this isn't a great way to live'" but continues on with her lifestyle (8). These characteristics paint Sasha as cold, apathetic sociopath who only looks out for themselves. These personality traits come as a major surprise to me was that she would care so little for the people and things she stole from, but claims she steals more things to preserve people. However, Sasha's character deepens as more personality traits come into play. When Coz, her psychologist, is speaking with her, he suggests talking about her father, this provokes an extreme shut down in Sasha, foreshadowing the coming events. She even thinks about the possibility of conversation, but comes to the conclusion that "in [my father's] direction lay only sorrow" (9). This makes Sasha seem vulnerable, empathetic, and emotional through the pathos evoked via emotional connotations with sorrow. Finally, in the next chapter, focused on Sasha's boss, Bennie, she comes off as very assertive, sarcastic, and competent. She blatantly states her opinion of a band that Bennie signed and enjoys, stating "'They were awful. That was the problem."' whilst contradicting her confrontation later by "following [Bennie's] musical rant to its grim conclusion", stating his exact opinion before he got to it (37). All in all, I believe Sasha to be an amazingly complex character, she can stand up for herself, know when to open up, and most of all, is a cold-hearted master thief. I would love to meet her and pick her brain, just to see how far I could go with a rudimentary understanding of psychology. I would also trade for the thieving stuff too, I could be like some awesome Batman villain.

A Time for Tea

The quintessential food that describes Douglas Adams's hilarious novel The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy happens to be the most discussed: tea. Tea fits perfectly as the representative of the book due to many of its unique attributes that it shares with Adams's book. The most obvious comes from its country of origin: Britain. Both Tea and The Guide hail from Britain, bringing with them a certain foreign appeal to their American audiences, such as myself. Next comes the variety of tea; one can order tea in many different ways, with many different things mixed in or server with it. The same principal goes for the novel, one can take it at face value where Adams's book acts merely as a wacky space adventure tale, they could take it as an argument for how utterly boring and petty our world seems compared to the Galaxy, or one could view it as the opposite, that the Galaxy most likely functions the same as boring old Earth, just with a few eccentricities that come from the culture. Another parallel comes from the protagonist's, Arthur Dent's, love for tea; his friends indirectly characterize him as a tea lover, stating that the only things Arthur says are "What? and I don't understand and Where's the tea?" (133). It only makes sense to chose the main character's favorite food as the food that his story will become. Finally, one of the most striking parables with tea and The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy comes from its abstract forms and customs. The number of proper etiquette when drinking tea comes off as mind boggling, a specific time exists to drink tea, one should hold the tea cup properly and never with the pinkie extended, one must measure the temperature of the beverages to an exact heat of 42 degrees Celsius and so on. The Galaxy also comes with the same kinds of insanities, such as improbability physics, babel fish, our rodent overlords, and a planet factory (just to name a few). Adam's work clearly embodies all the essential characteristics that makes tea tea, and vice versa; therefore tea becomes the perfect example of food to represent The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy in this alternate, food-based world that has manifested itself. Wow, I'm thirsty.

I Chortled

It only makes sense to do a blog entry on when I laughed aloud while reading Douglas Adams's hilarious book The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy. This actually may turn into one of the hardest blog entries for me to write due to the numerous occasions I have laughed out loud (lol'd for the hip and happening out there) while reading Adams's book. I really do love British humor, the subtleness and dryness really makes for much more hilarious jokes than the typical "HUEHUEHUE IM SO FUNNY" humor that us Americans somehow adore. My favorite moment has to come on the last page of chapter sixteen, right before the missile attack on the Heart of Gold. The way Adams narrates the scene, his matter-of-fact tone, the very blunt foreshadowing, the logos of the straight facts he gives makes an otherwise dramatic scene very comedic. Adams almost narrates like a computer, dissecting the implications and effects his narration give on the reader; he states "In order that some mystery should still be preserved, no revelation will yet be made concerning whose upper arm sustains the bruise" (82). The author completely pulls the air out of a life or death moment, then uses his hyperbolic diction to try to get the reader nervous for who will get a bruised arm (intentionally, of course). This matter-of-fact tone and diction coupled with the utter randomness of the event serve to make the scene even more funny. The book tells of the "sudden demise of a bowl of petunias and an innocent sperm whale" (82). Adams narrates many situations like this; talking about complete random and insane events like everyday occurrences and it makes him a very, very funny writer. Actually, when I read this page I was at the summer camp I work at, the campers I was looking after looked at me like a crazy person; even after I tried to explain to the children what happened, I read the passage and even explained all the humor and how it works (like any good english teacher would), but they never understood how I found it funny. Oh well, I guess only amazing people can enjoy amazing British comedy.

A Bitter Reminder

In Douglas Adams's short novel The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy, the reader finds themselves thrust into an amazing world of eccentricities, wonder, and danger. The juxtaposition of the Galaxy and the Earth creates a sort of culture shock with the protagonist, Arthur Dent. Adams alienates the reader aswell, by introducing foreign concepts that seem completely illogical (or improbable), Adams clearly does this to create a parallel with Arthur, Adams knows he can't just throw the reader at the entire galaxy and not explain anything, so he creates the Earth Man, Arthur, so characters can explain to him the world his surroundings. The good of using this tactic comes very quickly and apparently, the alien worlds, ships, and people Arthur visits, travels on, and meets come at a much milder rate, Adams turns down the orb of confusion from eleven to eight. However, the 'new guy' character also comes with some down sides- most notablely when the reader becomes aware of the storytelling strategy Adams uses. Arthur Dent really does not have much of a personality when examined and juxtaposed with his fellow companions; he only asks questions, acts confused, and makes snarky remarks. Really, the only characteristics I could give to Dent would be sarcastic and confused. This works very well for the unaware reader, and enhances the story by making it more accessable, but when looked at for solely the characters, the protagonist doesn't really exist other than to help explain things to Adams's audience. Maybe je just is boring because he is too similar to myself and other people of the planet earth; he has no eccentricites to make him special in our human eyes. Perhaps if Adams is ever published in space they will find the character of Zaphod annoying.  This simple reason makes Arthur Dent my least favorite character in Adams's otherwise spectacular book.

A Few Too Many

David Guterson's Snow Falling on Cedars deals heavily with the relationship of the one armed newspaper journalist, Ishmael Chambers and his Japanese lover, Hatsue Imada (currently Hatsue Miyamoto). Guterson works hard to establish the ever increasing tensions between Hatsue, Kabuo, and Ishmael. The climactic moment of these tensions comes when Ishmael discovers evidence at the local lighthouse that "Carl Heine...went into the sea...[when] an enormous freighter had plowed right through the fishing grounds" (355). This evidence proves Kabuo's innocence, but the characterization of Ishmael earlier as acting vengeful toward Kabuo for taking his love away create an uneasy disturbance for most readers. Unfortunately, I am not most readers and the following sections of the book seemed to drag on and on with unnecessary content, this contents proves to be the reason I did not enjoy the ending of this book. I believe that Guterson failed in creating the suspense he desired when it comes to Ishmael's decision to come forth with the information or not. He does a ham-handed job in juxtaposing his two characterizations of Ishmael; in the same conversation with his mother he claims '"the evidence is very solidly against him"'(343). This claim parallels the older, bitter Ishmael who has had his heart broken and acts unhappily. On the other hand, very soon after he makes another claim, stating '" The facts are all that matter"' (345). This statement serves as a synecdoche for the young, honest Ishmael. The juxtaposition of these two versions of the protaganist is intended to create suspense, however the author clearly shows Ishmael wanting to get on better terms with his former lover, pointing his choice to revealing the information, and by returning to his mothers house Guterson implies a return to Chambers's childhood personality, again pointing to revealing the information, due to his desire to publish worthwhile, factual stories. The remainder of the novel just drags this decision out. It seems perfectly clear, at least to me, that the jury will pick acquittal or guilty pending on stronger facts, and the race issues don't play into their decision as much when facts opposing their opinions present themselves. I didn't like the ending, because I feel it dragged on and on. Guterson could have wrapped up the story much earlier than he did, due to poor spacing of characterization and events. I predicted the ending of the book before it happened. A book tagged under the 'Mystery' genre. This means one of two things: I am Sherlock Holmes, or David Guterson doesn't know how to plan out his endings.

A Change of Genre

If one looks at the back summary of David Guterson's Snow Falling on Cedars they learn of a mysterious murder trial, a betrayal of an entire people, a land dispute, and finally a romance. When I read this description I believed I was in for an In Cold Blood-esque novel with mystery and murder and betrayal. Instead I got sex. The sexual nature of this book doesn't unnerve me, but it surprised me more than anything else about the book. Guterson only hints at the romantic nature of the book in the description; it seems like an afterthought to the book's primary two focuses: Kabuo Miyamoto's trial, and Japanese Internment during World War II. The book is directly characterized as "a masterpiece of suspense", but the only suspense the reader gains comes from the trial of Kabuo Miyamoto, and while this does take up a large portion of the novel; another large portion comes from the romance of Hatsue and Ishmael (back). The "Above all" most important aspect of the book, the Japanese Internment during the second World War, only receives minor attention at the first third of the novel, its only mention coming from implications and brief discussions about the war (back). The sexual scenes also feel quite awkward, whether Guterson does it purposefully or merely by accident. Now, I do not know how to write a sex scene in a novel, but I know one thing, David Guterson surely doesn't. The first scene between Kabuo and Hatsue in the early section of the book uses very explicit diction to create a parallel with the reader of the current narrator's, Hatsue's, awkwardness throughout the entire situation. Guterson indirectly characterizes her as nervous and awkward by repeating her fears that her '"sisters are listening'"; "' They're listening"' (89,90). This parallel helps to humanize Hatsue, and garner sympathy from the reader. It seems that Guterson either cannot write romanticlly, or he tries to make an assertion that the actions of sex are awkward and uncomfortable. This show particularly well when Nels Gundmundsson thinks about his inability to "achieve an erection" (300). While this section obviously does the same with Hatsue's, to create a sympathy for the character via drawing a parallel through awkward, explicit diction (it also continues the characterization of Nels as a man with a young spirit, but an old body), but Guterson takes it much too far. He writes that Gundmundsson believes that the jurors would see it "disgusting" if he approached Susan Marie too closely, not only does this parallel his own thoughts of the situation, but also it puts the idea into the reader's mind when it most likely would not have even come up. All in all, I believe that the excessive sexuality and romance in David Guterson's Snow Falling on Cedars just confuses readers, such as myself, who came into the novel looking for mystery and intrigue; it passes its self off as a murder mystery and social commentary, but it turns into a boring romantic drama about star crossed lovers and the sexual burdens of turning seventy-nine.

Respect for the Stoic

For my first blog post, I would like to discuss my favorite character in David Guterson's Snow Falling on Cedars. While posting this from half way around the world, I have noted racism, from Whites, Blacks, and Coloureds in South Africa. The situation plays out very much the same in Gunderson's novel; with the White community of San Piedro discriminating against their former Japanese enemies, and the Japanese viewing their White neighbors as barbaric and below their Japanese cultures and customs. Guterson's characters easily drive the novel; they serve as the main focus, the main form of conflict, and the best thing about Snow Falling on Cedars. Many interseting characters come into light in the novel; from the accused man, Kabuo Miyamoto, the painfully racist Etta Heine, the devoted coroner Horace Whaley, and the accepting and diverse Carl Heine Sr.. However, a single character shine in my eyes more than all of the mentioned previously, Nels Gundmundsson. Nels plays himself as an experienced, "deliberate" attorney, he slowly brings about his point, but somehow does not ask irrelevent or unneccisary questions (20). This direct characterization of Nels juxtaposes himself with the prosecutor, Alvin Hooks, who Guterson indirectly characterizes as insignificant and quickly moving by not even mentioning his name during his first round of questioning, impliying that Hooks moves so fast that he becomes an irrelevent afterthought in the eyes of both the town and courtroom. Gundmundsson did not always operate himself as a stoic and maticulous leader though, quite the contrary, his wise and elderly nature bothers him "because as a young man he had been...an athelete" (27). The word "athelete" carries an active connotation, indicrectly characterizing the young Gundmondsson as aggressive, impulsive, and energetic, juxtaposing with his elderly self who acts stoic, slow, and meticulous. He still reveals sides of his athleticism, though; when he plays chess with Kabuo he reveals that he "never castled" revealing that he still desires to act as he lived before, and he couldn't stand his slow pace outside of his profession, the only place where it suits him (158). The overall complexity of Nels Gundmundsson intrigues me, making him my favorite character. His slow and precise nature makes himself seem almost super-human when working with the witnesses for Kabuo's trial, and his aggressive, high risk and reward, style of chess playing juxtaposed helps create a man who, not only knows what he needs to do, but also has the courage to do them. This type of uncompromising, yet intellectual leadership that Gundmundsson displays easily makes him my favorite character.