Final Demonstration of Technological UNknowledge

Here it is!  The last assignment!  Forgive me for having a little fun with this...I can't be serious to save my life...

I hope it works.  I tried embedding it, no good.  I had to save a HD version to my computer, then upload it.  Ah well, if it stinks, I can always blame the teacher, like any good student does...;)

James

Reach Out And Touch A Naughty Place

Everything I needed to know about technology, my nearly three-year-old daughter taught me.  She can work my wife's I-Pad better than me, after all.  Of course, her ability to fit an entire box of Fruit Loops in our DvD player is a sign of true genius.  I couldn't have accomplished such a feat; clearly she is destined for greatness.

I have to admit that I felt slightly intimidated when I read the syllabus for this class.  I didn't know how to do any of the things mentioned, nor did I know if my computer was up to the task.  Sensei Cline was kind enough to have a rather clear set of instructions and links for educational purposes in her Blackboard options, so I managed to figure things out with a minimum of hair-pulling (which would have been interesting, since I shave my head bald).

I am a true fan of the online learning experience, but I recognize that it doesn't work for everyone.  There is something to be said about a teacher looking over your shoulder while you work a problem, and the interactions with the class is markedly different.  Text doesn't convey tone or texture (usually), so the experience can be intimidating.  But for me, I thrive on this.  With children underfoot and a massive workload of domestic responsibilities, arranging my time to accomodate my schoolwork is a huge advantage over set class times on campus.

Plus, I love to write, which is far more integral to online learning...woohoo!

I don't think I'll use video too much.  I don't think displaying my ugly mug to the online world is conducive to mental health.  I enjoy blogging, though, so I might explore that option in the future, discussing really bland and uncontroversial topics like,...oh, perhaps religion, or maybe sex.

I'll be spending the next two years as a student at Old Dominion University http://www.odu.edu/, as a distance learner, earning my Bachelor's in Psychology.  I'll definitely be using this technology again, I'd imagine, and I'm sincerely glad for the exposure.

If I run into problems with the technology, I won't waste time contacting Tech Support, I'll just ask my daughter for a hand...

Pic Link:
http://www.bing.com/images/search?q=technology&view=detail&id=73F0AD55228061795BE2A7A51710B71BA7CFCE5C&first=0&FORM=IDFRIR

James & Engrish w/Crine: An Anarysis

Yes, deliberate typos in the title.  I was in a whimsical mood, Looney Tunes were playing in the background, hot Sunday afternoon....


I went into this course knowing that I can write.  I don't mean that in arrogance, just a comfortable confidence.  But I also knew I had some weak spots, in particular my ability to cite correctly and reference appropriately.  The world of academia has rigid writing standards, and I tend to be very informal in my style and content.  I am also not very fond of literary analysis, and my lack of interest in that particular form of writing lends itself to some personal abuses as I struggle and snarl to put ideas to paper.

Professor Cline, let me just say that your course hit those exact weak spots head-on, and I both curse and praise you for that.

As an aspiring psychologist/writer, it goes without saying that writing will be in my future, and knowledge of the formats and research will be integral to my career.  I'm currently finishing an APA format research paper for Abnormal Psych, and I'm heavily leaning on the lessons taught in this class.  So...if the paper bombs, I'll contact Professor Cline and demand an apology.

The best part about this sort of class is the ability to scan all the different perspectives and interpretations of assigned books and short stories.  Our opinions of Bartleby, Ryan Bingham, and Ree Dolly & Teardrop probably didn't coincide, and that's absolutely magical.  Wisdom comes with age, but it can arrive sooner if we can see the world from more than just our own two eyes.  The mind's eye can lose its focus with the weight of prejudices, biases, and experiences tilting the view.  Being able to discard that baggage for just a moment as I read David's paper or Aaron's synopsis is a wonderful way to find a fresh perspective, and by extension re-examine my own position.

I can't say that I enjoyed the writing or reading in this class, in all honesty.  As I mentioned, I thoroughly dislike literary analysis.  I can't deny, however, that this test of my willpower may come in handy over the next six or seven years as I continue my education through (hopefully) a doctorate program in psychology.

Who knows?  Perhaps I'll finance my education with a book or two, if I can figure out how to do that without the work being discarded to the slough pile by a young intern who never even read the book nor presented it to the editor...

For my classmates, thanks for the input, thanks for laughing at my irreverent moments, and my best wishes for your future, whatever it may be.  Just don't give up on the education, mates.  Borrow, steal, kill...but keep hitting them books!

James Carr

Rough Draft of Essay #4, Up in the Air

Cut n' Paste usually rips up the formatting, so don't mind that stuff, mates.  Just critique the content, if you don't mind.  Hey, last essay!  Woohoo!

James Carr

Essay #4

Cline

4/20/2012

Hope:  A Study in Contrasts

            To say that the book version and film version of Up in the Air are different is the understatement of the century.  However, both versions explore hope and the human element of compassion, admirable human traits trying to force their way through the cracks of the pavement, the bureaucratic world of American big business.  They approach their exploration of hope from diverse angles:  the book focuses its attention on the solitary, slightly unstable figure of Ryan Bingham and his quest for a million air miles, his Holy Grail; the movie devotes most of its emphasis on a healthier Ryan Bingham’s efforts to keep creeping technology from undermining his job, while at the same time attempting to instill a sense of hope in those he terminates.  In the end, both Ryans find a comfort zone within their solitary envelope, as one Ryan departs Airworld forever, and the other Ryan resumes his life in the skies.  In both cases, the elusive hope has been captured, and a deep sense of optimism resonates in the final pages/scenes.

Set to the music of different times in American life, the message is understandably presented differently in each medium.  The novel was written during an economic upswing, and no one really thought twice about Airworld or corporate America.  Firing employees, while unpleasant, was still viewed as business as usual.  The film's message was the same, but with a huge economic downturn gripping the country, the message was presented with a great deal of positive feelings, and the movie went to great pains to end the film on a confident, upbeat note, as the fired workers came to terms with their dismissal and beheld the future with far more hope than might be expected.

It was an appealing approach.  If the movie had clung faithfully to Kirn's original ideas in the novel, the film would more than likely have bombed, and such a bleak script might not have been much incentive for Clooney to accept the role.  Post-911, with the economy in the toilet, the last thing the American public would have wanted to view was an obsessive-compulsive business exec firing people, giving morale speeches to zombies in hotel conference rooms, a sister with mental illness, and a somewhat dismal, but uplifting, ending with a brain tumor.  While the message of hope and human compassion exists in the novel, interlaced within Ryan's endless quest for the air miles, it needs to be unraveled from the dreariness of Kirn’s sharp, post-modern writing style.  That just doesn't make for good film, pure and simple.

            Two additions to the film helped the flow of the story immeasurably:  Natalie, Ryan’s ambitious but naïve protégé and the technological ability to fire people remotely.  The presence of Natalie allowed the viewer a glimpse into Ryan’s particular worldview.  “How much does your life weigh?” (Up in the Air, 2009) he asks during his motivational speeches, obviously viewing life’s standard trappings as encumbrances to be discarded.  “The slower we move the faster we die,” (Up in the Air, 2009) he also remarks, clearly demonstrating his apparent repugnance for setting down roots. However, Natalie’s awkward moments with love, career, and Airworld routines gave Ryan the opportunity to show his inner gentleness, and in the end, his motivational benchmark comments are shown to be only skin-deep, as Ryan literally and figuratively walks away from his own message to chase down his growing attachment to Alex.

            The computer-firing aspect pushed by Natalie and supported by Ryan’s boss is a twist unique to the movie, but it allows for the film to have a more contemporary feel.  It also provides a remarkable contrast between Ryan’s style of termination and the cold, robotic ambiance of impersonal technology, a coldness and robotic-ness shared, amusingly, by Natalie.  This stark comparison really underscores Ryan’s humane approach to his job, and allows the viewer to “prefer” the Ryan-termination with its undertones of hope and forward-looking optimism with the abrupt dismissal advocated by Natalie.  Rather than a hatchet-man, Ryan seems to feel more like a benevolent guardian angel of sorts, steering men and women into their dreams and away from the cubicles of nothingness.  “The stars will wheel forth from their daytime hiding places; and one of those lights, slightly brighter than the rest, will be my wingtip passing over” (Up in the Air, 2009).  This approach to his job would clearly resonate with today’s audiences, considering the harsh economic climate.

            Kirn’s novel dwelt almost exclusively on Ryan’s quest for a million air miles as well as his consuming desire to quit his job.  While Ryan is comfortable in his Airworld, we repeatedly see signs of discontent, and he manifests behavior that seems oddly dependent on his experiences in Airworld.  Kirn notes that Ryan “takes his self-esteem from how well he’s treated by flight attendants” (Kirn interview), and his unwillingness to foster stronger relationships seems to be an indication of Ryan’s grasp of the superficial nature of his unique world.  “Fast friends aren’t my only friends, but they’re my best friends” (Kirn pg. 6), Ryan remarks very early in the story.  Not only does Airworld and his professional life seem to be grating on his nerves, but his increasing eccentricity and downright paranoia during his journeys seems to suggest something else is seriously wrong with the novel’s hero.  As Kirn remarks:

“Our identity there [Airworld] has to usually do with an ID card or a number.  You’re looked at suspiciously at every turn, always having to prove you are who you are, and that you have honest intentions and aren’t carrying a bomb.  And I think for someone who’s as nervous and stressed out as Ryan, this all makes for a kind of general paranoid state” (Kirn interview).

            But Ryan has fond memories of his family, even if they irritate him from time to time.  His affection for his younger sister is very clear throughout, and while his older sister exasperates him, he still obviously respects her.  He describes his childhood years as “a golden Mark Twain boyhood,” and with “so few shadows, so much, such varied, light” (Kirn pg. 54).  Kirn mentions that “most of our journeys in America are round-trip, circular and, in the end, without a real sense of destination” (Kirn interview).  The novel-Ryan clearly has a destination in mind, once his Mecca is reached, and it is obviously a return to a place of fond memories, warm currents, and a benediction of hope…and, as Kirn reveals in the last page, it is a one-way trip.

The novel demonstrated one man's rejection of the cold, impersonal world of modern American business, devoid of hope and human compassion (beyond superficial and extremely brief encounters), just in time to enjoy his last years with his family.  The film demonstrated a good man's efforts to give hope to those unfortunates that suffer the indignities of dismissal from the cold, impersonal world of modern American business, even while his own personal hope is occasionally trampled.  While the mediums presented the story in markedly different styles, reflecting the economic times of their era, they both kept true to the ideals.  As Kirn explains, “the movie was not the book, and the book was not the movie, but they had the same genetic code” (Kirn interview). In the end, however, hope for the future is the underlying theme:  a different future for novel-Ryan, a comfortable future for film-Ryan, an uncertain future for those whose lives they’ve touched, but a future worthy of exploration nonetheless.

Works Cited

Kirn, Walter.  Up in the Air.  New York:  Anchor Books, 2002.  Print.

Kirn, Walter.  Interview by David Kestenbaum.  Interview:  Walter Kirn Discusses His

New Novel, “Up in the Air.”  National Public Radio.  Morning Edition,Washington, D.C., July 30, 2001.  Transcript.  URL:  http://search.proquest.com.proxy.yc.edu/docview/189815694?accountid=31701

Up in the Air.  Directed by Jason Reitman.  Paramount Pictures, 2009.  Film

Hope: A Message In Flux

To say that the book version and film version of Up In The Air are different is the understatement of the century.  However, both versions are exploring hope and the human element of compassion trying to force their way through the cracks of the pavement, or through the cracks of the bureaucratic world of big business.

Set to the music of different times in American life, the message is understandably presented differently in each medium.  The novel was written during an economic upswing, and no one really thought twice about the Airworld or corporate America.  Firing employees, while unpleasant, was still viewed as business as usual,...unless, of course, you were the one being fired.  The film's message was the same, but with a huge economic downturn gripping the country, the message was presented with a great deal of positive feelings, and the movie went to great pains to end the film on a confident, upbeat note...as the fired workers came to terms with their dismissal and beheld the future with far more hope than might be expected.

Were the movie's creators speaking to the American public, I have to wonder?

It was an appealing approach.  During harsh economic times, emotional disorders rise

(http://www.npr.org/templates/story/story.php?storyId=100600029).  If the movie had clung faithfully to Kirn's original ideas in the novel, the film would have absolutely bombed, if indeed Clooney had even accepted the role.  Post-911, with the economy in the toilet, the last thing the American public would have wanted to view was an obsessive-compulsive business exec firing people, giving morale speeches to zombies in hotel conference rooms, a sister with mental illness, and a somewhat dismal ending with a brain tumor.  While the message of hope and human compassion exists in the novel, in Ryan's endless quest for the airmiles, it needs to be unraveled from the dreariness.  That just doesn't make for good film, pure and simple.

The novel demonstrated one man's rejection of the cold, impersonal world of modern American business, devoid of hope and human compassion (beyond superficial and extremely brief encounters), just in time to enjoy his last years with his family.  The film demonstrated a good man's efforts to give hope to those unfortunates that suffer the indignities of dismissal from the cold, impersonal world of modern American business, even while his own personal hope gets trampled occasionally.  In the end, however, hope for the future is the underlying theme, a different future perhaps, but worthy of exploring.

On a funny note, I have to thank Professor Cline for a humorous moment this weekend.  I was watching the film, and Clooney and 'Alex' had just had their...um, encounter, near the beginning of the film, when my daughter walked in.

"Daddy, why is that woman's butt on the TV?"

As I spluttered a moment, my wife, sitting nearby on her laptop, said, "It's okay, hunny, I don't think your daddy minded much."  She glared at me and took our daughter into the playroom.

"Um, hun?" I called.  "My teacher is making me watch this.  You don't actually think I liked that, do you?"

hee hee

Picture link: 

http://fc03.deviantart.net/fs70/i/2010/105/5/3/There__s_Always_Hope_by_HelplessScream.jpg

Flight 19, Destination: Mental Disorder

I must confess right at the outset that I haven't finished reading this book yet.  With an Anatomy/Physiology Exam this week, I've had some major studying to do for another class.  I'll finish it this weekend.

I'm up to Chapter 10, over halfway, and thus far this book seems to provide a remarkable glimpse into the world of abnormal mental health.  Ryan, the main character, seems to suffer from a mild case of Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder (http://www.bing.com/health/article/mayo-MADS00189/Obsessive-compulsive-disorder-OCD?q=obsessive-compulsive+disorder&qpvt=obsessive+compulsive+disorder), combined with a deep loneliness and odd moments of blackout.  His preference for Airworld and it's quick, superficial moments of human contact is very telling, as is his obsession for a mysterious agency, his frequent flier miles, and his youngest sister.

This is a man that I would consider a ticking time bomb.

His younger sister seems to also have her share of mental disturbances, and one could only imagine the hair-pulling the older sister must be enduring to keep her own sanity.

I have to wonder, at this point in the story, if Ryan had the mental disorders prior to his job in the cold, vanilla world of bureaucratic business, or did he pick them up as time went on?  There are vague references to past traumas, so I would imagine that he was cracked going in, and Airworld has widened the cracks.

I'm not a big fan of Kirn's writing style.  I can't really put my finger on the why, however.  It just seems like he writes a whole paragraph of fluff, and then hides a vitally important sentence deep within, so if you miss it, you might not understand some other detail later.  Unfortunately, the fluff gets old, so the reader starts skimming...which, of course, forces the reader to miss the important stuff...

Ryan really seems to be a small sparrow with a broken wing chasing an uncatchable dream in a heartless environment.  I can't imagine how it ends yet, but somehow I think the sparrow is going to be sucked into one of the jet's engines...

Image links:

http://i.dailymail.co.uk/i/pix/2009/08/12/article-0-06085E2E000005DC-811_468x286.jpg

http://s.plurielles.fr/mmdia/i/45/2/la-sante-mentale-au-boulot-2787452rlgxk_1350.jpg

http://www.scientificamerican.com/media/inline/birds-and-planes-strike-z_1.jpg

Letter to the Warden

Dear Prison Warden Cline,

After extended sessions with a visiting Baptist preacher, I've been convinced to share my concerns with the ultimate authority in this dismal world of text and nuance.  Some might find it remarkable that an atheist heeded spiritual advice from a man of the cloth, but after eight weeks of torture, I'm willing to listen to anyone.

I have always taken great pride in my writing ability and reading comprehension, but you, mistress, have poked enough holes in my windy compositions to deflate a hot air balloon.  While I can easily see the logic in such scrutiny and criticism, and heed the knowledge imparted, I can't help but feel that my lofty position on the mountain has been humbled.  I am now clinging precariously on the side, near the top, scrambling for a better position, and for that, I curse and thank you, ma'am.

The books required of this course have been, shall we say, enlightening?  Grim?  Odd?  While I thoroughly enjoyed the writing ability of Woodrell, his world in the Ozarks is one I can honestly say I will never visit.  Kirn has me gritting my teeth, wanting to fling the book across the room.  I can't say I enjoy his style of writing at all, but I will perservere, good Warden, to avoid the stinging lash of the F whip.

My greatest weakness in the literary world has been citation, and considering my ultimate goal of Psychologist, this is a weakness that must be remedied.  But, curse you thrice over, dear Warden, I must learn two format styles:  MLA and APA.  The Aegean stables were an easier task for Hercules than cramming the plethora of literary styles and citations into this poor, enfeebled mind of a middle-aged father of three!  However, I must confess, your tutelage in this matter has been exemplary, and I humbly bow before you.

I can analyze effectively, good lady, and write eloquently, if I may be so immodest, but even the best writer can falter abysmally, and we must never think ourselves above reproach.  You, dear Warden, are skilled, educated, and trained by experience to take a seed and enable it to blossom, and I must be completely candid:  you have used excellent fertilizer.  It may not waft a beautiful scent, but it does fortify the soul, and for that, I thank you, dear Warden.

I will endeavor to be far less serious and sober in my literary reflections in the second half of my prison term.

Respectfully Yours,

James Carr
Prisoner 863009

Woodrell's Women

I didn't feel good about this essay at all.  I just couldn't wrap my mind around it.  I guess I'm just off this time.  Hack away, mates.

James

Ruthless Grit:

The Women of Winter’s Bone

            Daniel Woodrell’s Winter’s Bone flails a reader’s soul with many hard truths about life in the Ozarks of Missouri.  The abject poverty that is simply a part of life for the Ozark inhabitants, the insidious hold of the meth drug culture that twines through the tough fabric of these hills and hollers, the old-world dominance of men in this harshly patriarchal society…all of these elements grab the reader and throttle us out of our complacent and soft view of the world.  The most powerful theme throughout the novel, however, is the gritty and vast array of Ozark women, tenaciously surviving a harsh, cold, and deprived community controlled by gun-toting, drug-abusing men.  Within Ree’s traumatic struggles and horrific journey through hills and family blood, Woodrell weaves a strong criticism of male dominance and abuse, interspersed with generous dollops of praise for the women who suffer through such a society.  The circumstances are mean, and the women are meaner, but in their tenacity we get a glimpse of their heroic battle for survival in severe and unforgiving circumstances.

            Woodrell’s depiction of the Ozark communities is frighteningly accurate.  According to Brian Fogle, President of the Community Foundation of the Ozarks, they have “more children living under the poverty line than we have in history.  Child abuse and neglect have been a stubborn problem for our community,” (qtd in Scherder).  Child abuse reports have seen a 33% jump since 2008 (Scherder).  Missouri has consistently ranked in the top three states for meth lab seizures in the past ten years, recently seeing a 53% climb in meth lab incidents involving law enforcement (lakenewsonline.com).  CADV/VOC, a nonprofit organization that provides a domestic violence shelter in the Ozarks area, as well as advocacy, crisis intervention, and support for domestic abuse victims has reported a recent 33% increase in domestic violence reports in three counties (Burger).  One of the shelters was full for five months straight, unfortunately forcing the group to turn some victims away for lack of space.

            Within this fearsome morass of suffering reside the women of Winter’s Bone, coping with resilient strength and stubborn wit.  Ree Dolly, a hard 16-year-old with a catatonic mother, two younger brothers, and a missing father, epitomizes the competent intensity of Woodrell’s women.  Despite everything working against her, she refuses to surrender to circumstance.  As Woodrell himself notes, “Her father is out on bail, but he's disappeared.  She will lose her home if she doesn't find him.  She's already shouldering the burdens of taking care of her younger brothers.  And nobody seems willing to help her.  She gets beaten up pretty bad for her efforts.  But she's never self-pitying” (Tibbets, pg. 31).  Even at the tender age of sixteen, Ree Dolly has learned the rules of survival in the Ozarks.

            Nor does Ree flinch from even the most horrible of events:  carving her father’s hands from his body, as proof to the law that he is really dead and gone.  With emotions nearly overwhelming her senses, she manages to find just enough strength to get the job done.  “She was on a distant tranquil shore where rainbow-colored birds sang and coconuts dropped bountifully to warm sand.  The smoke and rattle, his other hand coming free, the return walk to the car a blur” (Woodrell, pg. 186).  During the act, she retreats to the echoes of her beach, her soothing sanctuary of sounds from a left-behind tape, The Sounds of Tranquil Shores, transformed into a melody in her mind, allowing her to perform the unthinkable.  It is a measure of fortitude that many women in America couldn’t even imagine, much less accomplish.

            Nor is Ree Dolly unique in these Ozarks, although her approach to the circumstances sets the stage for the novel.  Against the backdrop of relatively colorless men, the women of Winter’s Bone make their presence known to the reader.  The other women, ranging from her friend Gail to the formidable Merab, also exhibit this tenacious ability to survive in the Ozarks, despite the abuse and poverty, tapping reservoirs of vitality that keep life from slipping away.  Protecting their own, Merab and her sisters lay into Ree with a vengeance, and yet, they are the ones that ultimately lead Ree to her father.  Gail’s friendship with Ree is powerfully sustaining and touching, and Gail demonstrates her own form of strength by leaving her controlling husband for a brief spell while she helps Ree.

            Woodrell’s depiction of Ree’s struggles holds a strong element of criticism for male-dominated societal norms.  Woodrell holds nothing back in his portrayal of the Ozark women, struggling with poverty and frequent abuse.  It is an “implicit feminist narrative,” and it “critiques the insidious and complex ways females are framed first and foremost as objects for male use and abuse” (Wilson).  Ree’s drug-induced rape by Little Arthur is a clear example of this type of abuse, and Ree’s deliberate nonchalance about the act makes it seem like business as normal (Woodrell, pgs. 54-55).  Thump Milton’s refusal to talk to Ree simply because she’s a woman is a scornful, gender-based dismissal (Woodrell, pg. 60).  The second-class status of Megan, Merab, and Thump Milton’s woman, almost as adjutants to the Master, typify the patriarchal style, a culture that none of the women outwardly rail against.  But even the submissiveness belies a burning desire for something better, as Megan demonstrates while walking Ree out the door:  “It’s been this way with our people forever, goddam it.  For-fuckin’-ever.” (Woodrell, pg. 57).  These are strong, complex women that have learned the code of conduct and accept it, not always with good grace.

            Ree’s mother seems to be a constant reminder of the failure of strength, of surrendering to the madness.  She is the only woman in the story that shows any real weakness at all, and Ree angrily makes it very clear that she will never succumb to circumstance like her mother did (Woodrell, pg. 147).  Lost in her kaleidoscope of past memories and vague impressions of the present, Ree’s mother was the antithesis of the other Ozark women.  They treated her mental illness with contempt, flavored in equal measures by amusement and pity, but underneath their hardened shell of Ozark roughness seemed to be a quiet sense of fear, not for themselves but for the possibility of losing, of giving up and allowing life to beat them down.  The women respected Ree’s mother for who she was, and scorned who she had become.  Comparing Ree to her mother was possibly the worst insult they could hurl at Ree, and she went to great pains to distance herself from her mother’s mental collapse, demonstrating her mental and physical toughness by tracking her father and teaching her brothers how to survive and navigate within the Ozark community.

            It is bleak and unforgiving, but Winter’s Bone is also a tribute to women’s survival in a patriarchal society that thinks nothing of battered wives, neglected children, drug abuse, or even murder of kin.  It is a collision of gender, abuse, poverty, and honor, and Woodrell manages to splash a remarkable mix of reproach and praise for the society born of this clash.  Ree Dolly’s journey is worthy of respect for many reasons, not least of which is her determination to challenge the male-dominated norms of her world.  The women of Winter’s Bone are stubborn, tenacious, and frequently mean-spirited, but above all, they are survivors.

Works Cited

Woodrell, Daniel.  Winter’s Bone.  New York.  Little, Brown and Company, 2006.  Print.

Burger, Rance.  “Help From The State:  Report Aims To Help Domestic Violence Victims.” 

            LakeNewsOnline.com.  February 15, 2011.  Web.  March 23, 2012.

Author unknown.  “Missouri Remains In Top 3 State For Meth Lab Seizures.” 

            LakeNewsOnline.com.  March 4, 2011.  Web.  March 23, 2012.

Tibbetts, John.  "Riddles Across The Sky: Daniel Woodrell Talks About Winter’s Bone.” 

            Literature/Film Quarterly 39.1.  (2011):  30-38.

Scherder, Jay.  “Greene County Community Focus Report:  Child Abuse And Poverty Surge.” 

            KY3.com.  October 4, 2011.  Web.  March 23, 2012.

Wilson, Natalie.  “Chilling Truths In Winter’s Bone.”  Ms Magazine.blog.  August 3, 2010. 

            Web.  March 23, 2012.

Tough Circumstances, Tough Women

The Winter's Bone was an extremely illuminating novel in many ways for me, particularly the drug culture permeating the community, despite the abject poverty.  But I found the depiction of women in the story even more profound.  The men were generally faceless vanilla incarnations of gun-toting patriarchs, other than the colorful Teardrop and missing Jessup, but the women encompassed a range of personalities, all hardened in some fashion by the Ozark culture and individual circumstance.

These weren't milksop crybabies pining for their man.  These women could have done two tours in Vietnam and never blinked.

It was a challenge to find an article that focused on the female aspects of Winter's Bone, especially considering all the hoopla over the film adaptation that came out two years ago.  But I finally managed to track down an article that seemed to fit the bill:

http://msmagazine.com/blog/blog/2010/08/03/chilling-truths-in-winter%e2%80%99s-bone/

This blog essay actually begins as a film review of Winter's Bone, but the author, Natalie Wilson of Ms. Magazine, quickly turns to the prevalent theme of strong women throughout the movie.  The film would appear to follow Woodrell's depiction of women, even down to the dialogue used in the story.  Wilson discusses the "extraordinary portrait of the ways class and gender intersect, revealing how the patriarchal Dolly clan abuses not only drugs, but also its female family members," and praises the women of the Ozarks of Woodrell's literary work for their unremitting strength of purpose, if not character.  Wilson laments that the feminist narrative is frequently overlooked by modern reviewers who seem to prefer to focus upon the misery of poverty and the insidious grip of meth on the Winter's Bone communities.

At first glance, I almost kept searching for further articles, because this one was clearly a film review.  However, the author's emphasis on the female aspect of Winter's Bone resonated with my own interpretations.  While Wilson delved into the feminist facet of the film and I find myself drawn to the implicit strength in each woman of the story, we both seem to share an attaction for the female characters and their interactions within the male-dominated rural community of the Ozarks.  This article could be a good starting point for a paper discussing the various aspects of the female presence in Woodrell's Ozark community, a presence that perhaps didn't dominate, but nonetheless heavily influenced the world of Ree Dolly.


Wilson, Natalie.  "Chilling Truths In Winter's Bone."  Ms. Magazine.com, August 3, 2010.  Web.  March 7, 2012.

An Ode To The Ozarks

Winter's Bone has left me wondering if any joy is to be had in them thar hills.  The constant allusions to crank and its insidious hold on the Ozark rural population are troubling, to say the least.  As a tribute to the novel's country folk, I composed a very poorly written ditty that embodies my feelings about the story's grim atmosphere thus far...


Oh crank, my crank!
Grant me confusion.
Banish thought and
reason, for neither
provides warmth in
the cold Ozarks.

Oh crank, my crank!
Grant me income.
Speed your poison
swiftly, on powdery
wings of bliss, that
I may know money.

Oh crank, my crank!
Grant me misery.
Allow me passage
to my brighter past,
that I may wallow
in my present torture.

Oh crank, my crank!
Grant me children.
Wipe clean the slate
of my mind, forsaking
inhibition and restraint,
embracing only need.

Oh crank, my crank!
Grant me death.
Enrich violence in
my soul, until no
deed is too heinous
to encompass.

Oh crank, my crank!
Grant me release.
For sorrows countless
and life misused,
hasten my departure,
reality needs me not.


Ah well, I'm no poet, but this does accurately express my gloomy disposition reading this novel...

James

Essay #2 Draft

No pictures or links this time, mates, just an essay for you to pick apart!  Be gentle!  Oh, and I didn't put it in the correct format, since I'm just looking for content feedback.

James

A Tragic Hero

               Bartleby, the main character in Herman Melville’s Bartleby, the Scrivener:  A Story of Wall-Street, can best be understood as a tragic, melancholy hero, an unhappy representative of the vast masses of workers that live and die within the enormously hectic and impersonal industrialized society that the western world has embraced.  Bartleby is a victim, both of his own unknown inner torments and the meaninglessness of his pedantic tasks.  Without any personal ties to family or friends, and weighed down by depression and the insignificance of his work, he eventually allows himself to drift away into oblivion, forsaking and forsaken by modern society.

               Melville is very clear about the humdrum and unglamorous nature of a scrivener’s work.  As early as the first paragraph of the story he remarks about the nondescript nature of law-copyists or scriveners, “of whom as yet nothing that I know of has ever been written” (Melville, para 1), an insinuation that there is remarkably little interest in scriveners beyond their employment circle.  The dreary, monotonous work is an underlying theme throughout the story, but it is never truly discussed, just illustrated with a few instances of Bartleby’s unique refusal to perform the tasks.  Indeed, Melville spends more time describing the narrator’s three employees than he spends discussing the nature of a scrivener’s work!

               The office itself contributes mightily to the lackluster atmosphere that is Bartleby’s last home and workplace.  Amid the busy scribbling of pen on parchment, one was spared any view at all that might allow the mind to wander into more beautiful landscapes.  As Melville notes, in one direction the windows “looked upon the white wall of the interior of a spacious sky-light shaft” (Melville, para 5), while the other windows “commanded an unobstructed view of a lofty brick wall, black by age and everlasting shade” (Melville, para 5).  There was literally nothing beyond the work, a monotonous, tedious sort of work that plodded on and on into the future.  The office was a cave, uninviting but suitable for a scrivener’s purposes.

               Bartleby himself contributes to this lifeless morass with his own actions, huddling behind his high green folding screen and withdrawing completely from his coworkers and his employer.  In fact, beyond his repeated refusals, there isn’t any interaction at all, much to the surprise and concern of the narrator.  Melville describes Bartleby’s location behind the screen as his “hermitage,” an eloquent way of portraying Bartleby’s self-imposed isolation.  This voluntary seclusion increased in scope, as Bartleby continued to refuse tasks, until finally Bartleby refused to do the work at all.  He was withdrawing, turning inward to escape the cold bureaucratic world around him.  This departure didn’t go unnoticed by the narrator, but he was a product of the same system that Bartleby wished to leave, and he could not find a way in his limited vision of reaching Bartleby and bringing him back into the fold.

               In the final paragraph, Melville gives a profound and insightful hint into the unraveling of Bartleby’s soul:

The report was this: that Bartleby had been a subordinate clerk in the Dead Letter Office at Washington, from which he had been suddenly removed by a change in the administration. When I think over this rumor, I cannot adequately express the emotions which seize me. Dead letters! does it not sound like dead men? Conceive a man by nature and misfortune prone to a pallid hopelessness, can any business seem more fitted to heighten it than that of continually handling these dead letters and assorting them for the flames? For by the cart-load they are annually burned. Sometimes from out the folded paper the pale clerk takes a ring:—the finger it was meant for, perhaps, moulders in the grave; a bank-note sent in swiftest charity:—he whom it would relieve, nor eats nor hungers any more; pardon for those who died despairing; hope for those who died unhoping; good tidings for those who died stifled by unrelieved calamities. On errands of life, these letters speed to death.  (Melville, para 250)

In effect, Melville is illustrating quite clearly to the reader that Bartleby’s mental collapse had begun prior to his engagement at the narrator’s office, in an employment that had tested his will.  It was monotonous, dreary, and unfulfilling work with little human contact, tossing hopes and dreams into fires to be consumed and forgotten.  Humanity was secondary to the job, and the unending bleakness of his tasks stretched to the life’s horizon, a daily grind that tore into his soul and deadened his heart.  Bartleby’s work as a scrivener didn’t improve his wounded condition, but rather contributed to his deterioration with its own repetitive and uninteresting tasks, until it had finally crushed his will to live beneath the uncaring gears of modern industrialized society.

Melville evidently wanted the reader to initially marvel at Bartleby’s eccentricities, and then feel the utmost sympathy for the deep depression clearly gripping the pale scrivener.  Finally, the reader is invited to share in the narrator’s sadness for the departed soul of Bartleby, a victim of an indifferent but bustling society that doesn’t seem to have the time for human kindness.  Bartleby is a tragic hero, an iconic figure for the workers of modern society, lost within the bureaucratic nightmare and doomed to a lifetime of plodding, obscure, and meaningless work.  His final act is a testament to his unwillingness to participate any further.  If the narrator had been able to engage Bartleby in one final conversation, it might have been thus:

               “Bartleby, you must live.  You must!”

               “I would prefer not to.”

A Historical Depression

Herman Melville's Bartleby, the Scrivener:  A Story of Wall-Street always leaves a poignant lump in my throat.  It is an absolutely heart-breaking tale of a man's descent into abject depression, and his last dignified attempt to reach out for human compassion, ultimately to be rejected as a result of confusion and misunderstanding.  Melville illustrates perfectly the conflict between an uncaring world and our caring souls, and Bartleby clearly represents the type of depression and lost, lonely moods we inevitably feel at some point in our lives, needing human contact and understanding to bring us out of our blackness.  The narrator's unintended rejection of Bartleby was the final nail in his coffin, and the pale scrivener allowed himself to drift away on the currents of the Lethe.

In particular, Melville eloquently described the narrator's internal conflicts, the turmoil between business-as-usual and a heartfelt sympathy for a fellow human being:

To a sensitive being, pity is not seldom pain. And when at last it is perceived that such pity cannot lead to effectual succor, common sense bids the soul be rid of it. What I saw that morning persuaded me that the scrivener was the victim of innate and incurable disorder. I might give alms to his body; but his body did not pain him; it was his soul that suffered, and his soul I could not reach.  (Melville, par 93)

In this passage Melville explains the conflict in the lawyer's mind as reaching a climax of hopelessness.  The narrator is finally coming to terms with the realization that Bartleby is uncurable, unreachable, lost within his own shell, and this realization is a painful one.  The narrator isn't without sympathy, and the knowledge that he will be unable to aid Bartleby is anything but soothing.  He now knows that the practical solution would be to dismiss Bartleby and allow him to survive or not as he chooses, since the narrator isn't responsible for Bartleby's well-being, but practicality is a poor substitute for human caring, and the practical approach does nothing to calm the distress in the narrator's heart.

Melville is demonstrating quite clearly the human behavioral phenomenon of depression and society's reaction to it.  People have an automatic desire to "perk up" depressed individuals, and we grow irritable and exasperated when our methods meet with little success.  We reach a tormented impasse between our knowledge that we are not "our brother's keeper," that all men and women are  ultimately responsible for themselves alone,...and our nurturing, caring nature that refuses to allow a fellow human being to suffer.

I'm generally not a fan of Melville's, but I have to admit that I thoroughly enjoy this short story.  Extremely accurate portrayal of human nature!

Your blog post assignment for this week is to explain your understanding of the difference between summary and analysis. You may want to include some illustrations and examples from a book that you enjoy or have read for another class.

Well, at its most simplistic, summary and analysis is just a more intelligent way of saying description and opinion, activities that we engage in on a daily basis.  If your wife asks you about someone you met today, you start with the description and then offer an opinion about the fellow.  "Tall, well-dressed, nice enough guy, but a bit too political for me."

Summary and analysis in one short sentence.  Simple.

But not quite that simple.

In a literary context, summary and analysis won't be that brief, of course.  If you want a reader to understand your point, succinctness will count against you.  Clear, concise language and a thorough approach to detail is absolutely necessary to counter possible misunderstandings or misinterpretations of your analysis.  Don't assume that the reader understands your position; start from scratch and build the tower from the foundation up.  Once they reach the top they'll see the view, and even if they don't enjoy the panorama they will at least see what you see.

It's also important to be aware of your own internal prejudices and biases.  These will inevitably filter into your analysis, and that's expected, but they will also color your summary, too, perhaps in a way that doesn't do the original work justice.

Using one of my favorite recent books as an example, The God Delusion by Richard Dawkins, consider the myriad ways this book is summarized in various book reviews (and for some good examples, try http://www.goodreads.com/book/show/14743.The_God_Delusion).  The critiques are generally, but not always, reflective of the reviewer's religious beliefs, i.e. the book is lambasted in Christian, Orthodox Jewish, and Muslim theological spheres while it is favorably received by mildly religious and nonreligious book reviewers.  This is basic human behavior and comes as no surprise, but it is interesting how these same reviewers taint their summations of the book with these very same biases.  How can a book be both well-written and horribly written?  Both those comments were in many summations of the book, and these are obviously opinions, or arguments, and they belong in the analysis.

The best literary summaries are objectively neutral, keeping our personal feelings out of the text.  Our opinions come later, in the analysis.
Truth be told, I don't like doing summaries.  It is very boring writing.  I prefer to jump right into the arguments, and allow my eloquence to dazzle and entertain, or make me any number of lifelong enemies with my irreverent wit.  Summarizing is just too pedantic and pedestrian for me.

Image URLs:

http://media.wiley.com/lit_note_images/331/1.jpg

http://cache0.bookdepository.com/assets/images/book/medium/9780/6189/9780618918249.jpg

My comments about Johnathan Swift's "A Modest Proposal,"....the idea that selling and eating very young children will reduce their burden upon the Kingdom of Ireland.

I love it!

Good Reading, Good Nabokov, Good Grief!

What does Nabokov think makes a good reader? Do you agree? What do you believe are the characteristics of a good reader? Do you consider yourself a good reader?

Nabokov spells it out very early in his essay:  imagination, memory, artistic sense, and a handy dictionary are required to be a good reader.  Considering the lengths he went to wave the artist's paintbrush in a literary sense within this essay, he obviously feels an artistic sense is of paramount importance.  He wasn't simply trying to send a message by Fed-Ex; he accompanied the message with a singing telegram, gold ink on parchment, and a Picasso painting on the envelope.

A trifle overdone, in my opinion, and I don't really agree with him, other than the imagination point.

Comprehension is the key component of a good reader, beyond all else, and this comprehension exists on several levels.  Simply understanding the text is, naturally, quite important, and following the progression of the story and development of characters and events is just as important.  This is the most simple part of comprehension, and most people fall into this category.  They can read Tolkien, Steinbeck, or Poe and follow the storyline, drink in the atmosphere, and walk away from the book with a basic understanding of the novel.

But there is much more to reading than this.  True comprehension is much deeper.  A good reader recognizes the regional context and historical, political, and socioeconomic era in which the story was written, whether late 1800s Victorian England or 1970s in Maine.  A good reader learns something about the author from his writing, divining not just a writer's literary insights but also some of his emotions that are spilled out on the page.  Above all, a good reader is aware of his/her own prejudices and biases, and understands that he/she is reading the novel through a filter of preconceived notions.

In short, a good reader learns as much about themselves and the author as they do about the basic story itself.

I like to think of myself as a good reader, other than my impatience with convoluted and flowery prose (apparently I'm not the only one, thank goodness...http://www.writingforums.com/writing-discussion/126161-why-purple-prose-frowned-upon.html)  But whether I am a good reader or not is for someone else to decide.  We all try to fit ourselves into a nice, glowing image of nobility, intelligence, and compassion, but I somehow doubt we are ever really accurate in our self-assessments.

James

Posting my introductory video...hopefully...

James