society or individual

What is the value of an individual? Are individuals judged based on their own personal worth or their worth to society? Edith Wharton's Age of Innocence and Henrik Ibsen's A Doll's House both explore the importance of society in an individual's journey to discovering him- or herself. In each work, it seems as though society is an oppressive force for some of the characters, whether male or female. 

For Wharton's novel, the oppression is stressed upon Ellen and May, each of whom are unable to escape the influences of society. In the work's New York society, there is a "way of people who dreaded scandal more than disease, who placed decency above courage, and who considered nothing was more ill-bred than 'scenes,' except the behaviour of those who gave rise to them" (Wharton 282). Any behavior or appearance that appeared abnormal compared to more common behaviors or appearances are rendered disrespectful of the New York way. 

Because of this idea of respect, Ellen's European mannerisms and lifestyle are viewed with disdain, and her apparent lack of sensibility, such as her desire to divorce her husband, is scandalous. According to Newland, "[their] legislation favours divorce--[their] social customs don't" (Wharton 93), and as a result, Ellen is encouraged to stay with her husband in order to maintain her societal standing.

May is also influenced by society in dictating her behaviors as a woman and as a wife to Newland. Her purity is "cunningly manufactured by a conspiracy of mothers and aunts and grandmothers and long-dead ancestresses," and Newland has the right of a husband to "exercise his lordly pleasure in smashing it like an image made of snow" (Wharton 39). While he gives himself to her already marred by an affair with a married woman, May must remain pure and clean when giving herself to him, lest she loses respect from society.

In Ibsen's play, both Torvald and Nora are forced to live by society's expectations of a respectable husband and a submissive wife. Within this setting, the men are seen as the breadwinners of the family while the women are expected to fall under the Cult of Domesticity. The ideals of this Cult of Domesticity included submissiveness, piety, and purity. 

As the male of the household, Torvald is expected to be the individual who provides for the family, the individual who's "man enough to shoulder the whole burden" (Ibsen 1198). He cares about how society would react should they find that Nora is trying to convince him to rehire Krogstad, feeling as if her persistence is belittling of his command of the family. Because he refers to Nora as his "most precious possession" (Ibsen 1218), it appears as though Torvald acts as Nora's guardian, giving her money to spend and showing her off to their friends.

Nora, on the other hand, is expected by society to allow Torvald to make all the decisions within the household. Her husband reduces her to a "lost and helpless creature" (Ibsen 1225), reinforcing the societal standard that women should remain submissive to their spouses. Indeed, when Torvald learns that his wife had secretly begun working to pay off her debt to Krogstad, instead of acting thankful for Nora's sacrifice to him, he grows infuriated and tells her she's unfit to bring up the children. 

Society in each of the works seems to overcome the characters, forcing them to lose sight of themselves and focus solely on how society sees them.

my mind is

my mind is
e.e. cummings

my mind is
a big hunk of irrevocable nothing which touch and
taste and smell and hearing and sight keep hitting and
chipping with sharp fatal tools
in an agony of sensual chisels i perform squirms of
chrome and execute strides of cobalt
nevertheless i
feel that i cleverly am being altered that i slightly am
becoming something a little different, in fact
myself
Hereupon helpless i utter lilac shrieks and scarlet
bellowings.

Between innocence and experience, which is better to have? e.e. cummings presents this argument in his poem "my mind is," in which he discusses the human mind prior to experiences and its state after being chiseled by life.

While the mind is "nothing," it has been unexposed to real experience. It's a clean slate waiting to be molded by the senses. However, when the narrator mentions that the senses are "chipping with sharp fatal tools" his mind, it's implied that the changes are permanent. Because these tools are "fatal," perhaps the changes are viewed as deadly and irreversible. Experience, therefore, is negatively received, while the innocence before is worthless. 

When compared to Plato's Allegory of the Cave, this structuring of the mind can be seen as enlightenment. As people are given knowledge, their minds are shaped around this new information, and it's nearly impossible for them to regress back to a point when the knowledge was unknown to them. The freed prisoner in Plato's allegory attempts to become familiar with his fellow prisoners in the cave, telling them of all the knowledge he's been given from his experience above ground. However, they ridicule him and he's excluded from their activities, no longer having the same mindset as they do.

The narrator's "squirms of chrome" and "strides of cobalt" makes the narrator appear to be machine-like. The descriptions provide a rather mechanical representation of the movements, as if every human is built to act this way. By being exposed to new experiences, the narrator is being exposed to the repetition of society in which a structure is strictly imposed upon its citizens. The "agony" over performing such actions could be the narrator's hatred of conformity, which may also be appealing as the chisels are described as "sensual."

However, the "altering" experienced makes the narrator feel different, becoming "himself" amid a community of mechanical citizens. The narrator's mind is able to interpret experiences in a different way than others, so despite the outside behaviors resembling everyone else's, the narrator's inner thoughts are his own and individual in their meanings. As a result, the narrator is able to distinguish himself from his peers, becoming "himself" when others can only be "themselves." 

With the brain being exposed to all the different stimuli and experiences, the narrator begins to have violent threats of "shrieks" and "bellowings." These vocalized actions seem to be of turmoil and anger, as if the mind is threatening to split. He accepts the writhing under scattered thoughts and cluttered ideas as he's mentioned to be "helpless" upon all the experiences. This shows that the loss of innocence is inevitable, that the mind must face reality sooner or later. As the narrator mind was once a big hunk of "nothing," it is easily manipulated by the senses.

It's hard to determine whether cummings prefers innocence or experience in this piece. It seems as though each of the two are negative in their own ways, in which with innocence, the mind is nothing, while with experience, the mind is rendered "helpless." 

dolls in a dollhouse

Within A Doll's House and Age of Innocence, the females can be seen as dolls living in a dollhouse. Nora Helmer and May Welland are introduced as very naïve characters, filled with either innocence or ignorance of real-world issues. However, there may be more to their natures than meets the eye.

During the first act of Henrik Ibsen's play, Nora seems like a troublesome wife; she spends money recklessly and insists upon asking for more when it's all spent. She plays to her feminine attributes to get what she wants out of her husband, "playing with his coat buttons, and without raising her eyes to his," requests more money to purchase more (Ibsen, line 99). 

When Kristine Linde arrives, it's clear that she's been having troubles with her life. Widowed and childless, Kristine tries to find work as she feels her life is "unspeakably empty, [with] no one to live for anymore" (Ibsen, lines 334-335). Despite being told this, Nora seems insistent upon bragging about how lovely her life has been and how wonderfully her children have grown. She talks about how she "mustn't be selfish today; today [she] must only think of [Kristine's] affairs" (Ibsen, lines 245-246), but immediately after this she goes on and on about how splendid it is "to have heaps of money and not need to have any anxiety" (Ibsen, lines 259-260). Her lack of concern for her friend's troubles shows how self-concerned she is.

According to Newland Archer from Edith Wharton's novel, May Welland "simply echoed what was said for her" (Wharton 69), unable to voice her own thoughts and ideas. He found her terribly dull and bland, with "innocence that seals the mind against imagination and the heart against experience" (Wharton 123). Her similarities to somewhat of a dummy or a puppet repels Newland, who is later attracted to the new and mysterious Ellen Olenska, who speaks strangely unlike any other.

While Torvald Helmer sees his relationship with Nora being one in which he is forced to pay for her expenses, Newland views his marriage with May to be a nuisance as well. He fears of it becoming "a dull association of material and social interests" (Wharton 37). His desire to keep this from happening forces him not to try and fix their marriage but rather seek out a new woman to satisfy him. However, further into their marriage, May begins to act as her mother, and Newland's fear of "gradually [sinking] into the placid and luxurious routine of their elders" (Wharton 107) becomes reality.

Despite how dependent and ignorant they initially seem, both Nora and May are secretive and conniving, scheming behind their husbands' backs. 

Nora's obsession with money turns out to be due to debt, not her need to buy everything. Her ability to manage money without her husband's knowledge, in spite of some inaccurate knowledge she may have about economics, shows that she is able to act independently from her husband. By seducing her husband, she can get money from him in order to pay off her debt to Krogstad, revealing plans that she's kept in the dark for a long time.

May, on the other hand, is knowledgeable of Newland's affair with Ellen. She uses this knowledge to her advantage and manages to push Ellen away from fraternizing with her husband by informing her that she's with child. Though it's not clear exactly when she finds out about her husband's cheating, May still manages to keep her knowing a secret from Newland, despite of all the grievances it may cause her.

you fit into me

You Fit Into Me
Margaret Atwood

You fit into me
like a hook into an eye

a fish hook
an open eye 


A fish hook into an open eye. Now, simply typing that down makes my knees buckle. 
Why is it that this narrator is telling an individual that their fit resembles that of a fish hook into an open eye? 

Perhaps it's the duality of love working through this poem. 

When I think about one's significant other, I imagine that he or she fits the other person fairly well, as puzzle pieces fit together to create one whole. From the beginning of Atwood's poem, I understand that she tries to convey this idea of a perfect fit. The narrator states that the partner fits into him or her, stating that this resembles a hook and an eye.

For garments, this idea of hooks and eyes acting as a fit makes sense. One method of fastening clothing together, after all, is known as a hook-and-eye closure. Commonly used in brassieres, the hook-and-eye closure has been utilized since 14th century England. Typically, the hook is a flattened wire bent to fit inside an eye, or an opening onto which the hook can latch itself. 

Initially, the two described in the poem seem to be very compatible with each other, having a fit resembling the hook-and-eye closure. However, clarification is given in the last two lines of the poem, the hook being a fish hook and the eye being an open eye. As it turns out, the fitting isn't all that fantastic.

Fish hooks are used to, obviously, hook fish. Resembling a 'J', a fish hook has a jagged point at its end in order to guarantee a catch. It's designed to pierce the lip of a fish, and its curve prevents the fish from throwing the hook. Part of a fish hook is known as the eye, which is the small hole at the end of it that is tied onto a fishing line. From connotation, a fish hook can represent capture. Fish hooks are difficult for fish to shake free from, so it can also symbolize stubbornness. 

As my optometrist once told me, it takes a lot of pressure to pierce through your eye. Because I get weak just from typing that down, I don't feel comfortable researching the exact amount needed to penetrate the eyeball. However, as the fish hook from Atwood's poem so easily fits into the eye, I would assume that the pressure is great. What makes it all the more sickening is that the eye is open while this is happening. The individual is observing as the fish hook enters his or her eye, which shows that the narrator is not blind to what's going on. He or she knows that the pain will be great and difficult to remove but allows for it to happen all the same. 

This, I believe, expresses the duality of love. Although the two in the poem are the perfect fit for each other, it comes with pain as would come from a fish hook in an open eye. As innocent as love may initially seem, it can also be a painful process.

a Grendel of youth and experience

William Blake, The Great Red Dragon and the
Woman Clothed with the Sun, 1805

Grendel can be characterized as a product of William Blake's works concerning the influences of innocence and experience. 

When he speaks of his childhood, Grendel reminisces of a period free from intrusion of religion, free from the violence that he soon comes to know. He participates in games with "ingenious twists into freedom or new perplexity" (Gardner 15), revealing his preparedness for exploring the world around him. In my mind, I imagine a young Toothless from Pixar's How to Train Your Dragon prancing around a forest, observing various plants and creatures as if they were all new to him. 

However, Grendel mentions that occasionally "the spell would be broken suddenly" (Garnder 16), and he starts noticing large shapes with eyes watching him. Though it's unclear what these masses may be, they make him "feel, all at once, alone and ugly, almost... obscene" (Gardner 17). A shape could be defined, as Blake writes in "Infant Sorrow," "like a fiend hid in a cloud" ("Infant Sorrow," line 4). Although they remain ambiguous in features, the shapes seem to be "hiding" behind Grendel's innocence, waiting for experience to shape Grendel; this could also be seen when Grendel sees the shapes and doesn't understand what they mean, showing that he doesn't yet have knowledge of certain things. 

As Grendel is taught by the Shaper, his mentor could act like the guardian mentioned in Blake's "Introduction" to Songs of Innocence. The Shaper within Grendel fulfills the role of maintaining the naivety and innocence of the Danes; he performs songs that speak to them of "truths" that may be warped in order to protect his people. His character could be related to the piper in the Song of Innocence. The piper within the "Introduction" performs and sings songs of "merry chear" ("Introduction," line 6) for a young child, all of which reduce the boy to tears of joy. These songs, as the Shaper's songs do, satisfy the audience on an emotional level. Before the end of the poem, the piper mentions that he "wrote [his] happy songs, / Every child may joy to hear" ("Introduction," lines 19-20), which reveals that his audience is not only the young boy but all who may wish to hear. As Grendel is eavesdropping on the Shaper's performances, he acts as the young boy, but the audience is made up of all the Danes who listen to the songs. 

The dragon in Grendel could act as the Bard from Blake's "Introduction" to Songs of Experience. Within the novel, the first encounter between Grendel and the dragon can signify the moment when his innocence is lost; the dragon takes advantage of the conversation to try and convince Grendel that the world is all "ashes to ashes, slime to slime" (Garnder 73). It's during this exchange that Grendel learns that his search for love and acceptance may be pointless, and all his efforts will eventually lead to nothing following the end of his life. The dragon supports his claims by telling Grendel that he knows everything, "the beginning, the present, the end" (Garnder 62). This line is remarkably similar to one in the "Introduction" to Songs of Experience, in which the Bard is described as one "Who Present, Past, & Future sees" ("Introduction", line 2). With the similarity of experience between the dragon and the Bard, the two act as sources of "true" knowledge for Grendel, as opposed to the revised songs of the Shaper. 

Grendel's youth represents his period of innocence for which he begins longing for after he participates in war against the Danes. His destructive forces during the war highlight his experienced self, accumulation of knowledge presented to him by both the Shaper and the dragon. Although Blake placed importance on neither innocence nor experience, Grendel's character seems to find the innocent self to be a stage more preferable than the experienced self. 

water and Grendel

According to the dragon in John Gardner's Grendel, life has no meaning. Life is all "a swirl in the stream of time. A temporary gathering of bits, a few random dust specks, so to speak" (Gardner 70). His thoughts suggest that the world eventually come to nothing, and that nothing will have no meaning either - just a "mere ripple in Time's stream" (Gardner 71). 

The nihilism the dragon presents can also be seen in Red Horse, an old man with whom Hrothulf converses. According to Red Horse, "the total ruin of institutions and morals is an act of creation" (Gardner 118). This is a belief reflecting nihilism, in which destruction of political or social institutions is necessary for improvement. Unlike the dragon, however, the old man promotes the idea of revolution and anarchy with the thought that this will allow for a new existence. It wouldn't be the inferior versus the superior, but rather two equally powerful forces fighting for freedom. On the other hand, the dragon finds that an act of destruction "not a real ending of course, nor even a beginning" (Gardner 71), but that it is rather an accident of time. 

Juxtaposition of destruction and creation is a common thread in Grendel. The Danish priests refer to their God as the Great Destroyer, hoping that the Destroyer will "defend the people of Scyld and kill their enemy, the terrible world-rim-walker" (Grendel 127). In destroying Grendel, the Destroyer would also be allowing the Danes to continue with their existence. Because Grendel, the so-called world-rim-walker and evil enemy against the Danes, poses as the Destroyer, he highlights the connection between destruction and creation, as Red Horse implies as well.

In David Foster Wallace's This Is Water commencement speech, he unknowingly presents an argument to counter that of the dragon. Wallace presents his belief that there is no one meaning to life. Instead of one true purpose, he proposes that the individual has the choice to make his or her own purpose. 

Grendel represents an individual who doesn't live his life through his own self-created purpose; instead, he is influenced by the Shaper and the dragon who create a purpose for him. The Shaper sings the song of Cain and Abel whose feud "split all the world between darkness and light" (Gardner 51), with Grendel representing this darkness. Grendel, eavesdropping on his performance, takes his story for truth and begins to mold his life around the idea that he's an evil force. The dragon further reinforces this belief by telling Grendel that he is "the brute existent by which they learn to define themselves" (Gardner 73). By giving him this role of creator, he limits Grendel to act in a way that implies the Danes will act according to his actions. 

Near Grendel's death, it seems as though a wave of realization washes over him, as "the long pale dream, my history, falls away" (Gardner 169). It could be assumed that at this time, he realizes that he's been so engulfed in fulfilling the Shaper's and the dragon's purposes of him that he's dived headfirst against a foe that would be his downfall. This moment of enlightenment has him longing to regress back to his childhood, seen as he cries out for his mother during his final moments. His desire to return to the childlike Grendel, before he met the Shaper or the dragon, can also be found after his attempts to split Wealtheow, when he hopes to kill himself "for love of the Baby Grendel that used to be" (Gardner 110).

an interruption by death

The Mower
Philip Larkin

The mower stalled, twice; kneeling, I found
A hedgehog jammed up against the blades,
Killed. It had been in the long grass.

I had seen it before, and even fed it, once.
Now I had mauled its unobtrusive world
Unmendably. Burial was no help:

Next morning I got up and it did not.
The first day after a death, the new absence
Is always the same; we should be careful

Of each other, we should be kind
While there is still time.

I'm lucky that I don't witness death every day. When I think of coroners, crime scene investigators, embalmers, I can't even begin to imagine how they can so easily ignore the fact that the organism in front of them, still and unresponsive, cold and empty, was once a living and breathing being. Perhaps it hurts more when the one in front of you is someone or something familiar.

The narrator of Philip Larkin's "The Mower" explores how the death of a hedgehog opens his eyes to how he perceives death as a whole. 

An ordinary day of mowing the lawn begins for the narrator, until his lawnmower gets choked up by a hedgehog. Within the first stanza, his entire life shifts. A hedgehog, a Pagan symbol of fertility and appreciation of life, lies limp between the sharp blades of the mower. With this representation of feracity gruesomely gnarled and gnashed inside the lawnmower, Larkin writes not only of a literal death but also the death of an existence, of an idea. His act of mowing the lawn can represent his desire to mold or shape his world, while the hedgehog portrays the first casualty in his conquest. 

"I had seen it before, and even fed it, once." The narrator mentions this to show that he shared a connection with this hedgehog, no matter how small or trivial it may had been. His familiarity with the small creature references to the idea that deaths are more saddening when they're of someone or something familiar rather than a stranger or foreign being. The interactions he shared with this hedgehog were juxtaposed with the animal's death; he had fed the creature with the intent of keeping it alive. This represents the uncertainty of life and the many possibilities the future holds, even if there may not be a correlation between his feeding the hedgehog and its death.

He mentions that the burial did not help, for he continued to live while the hedgehog could not. This act of burying, though showing his dedication to sending off the creature, can also show his attempt to "bury" the first casualty in his attempt to change "the world," or his lawn. However, although hiding the hedgehog beneath the ground physically removes the creature from sight, it does not fact that an innocent being had its life snatched away. The absence, as he mentioned, is everlasting and remains to torment the narrator.

Larkin's poem concludes with the idea that all beings should live in consideration of others, taking into account that time is short for all living beings. However, it's odd that the narrator mentions being "careful / Of each other," seeing as the hedgehog's death supposedly isn't pre-planned. How could the narrator have been careful unless he knew that the hedgehog had a chance of reappearing in the grass? Therefore, it could be concluded that he isn't telling to be careful of harming others but rather of trying to manipulate one's world. Because the hedgehog died by the lawnmower, the narrator's act of mowing the lawn can be seen as the cause for his death; had he not been mowing the lawn, the hedgehog may still be living. By establishing this connection, one may conclude that Larkin is arguing against the exploration of our world, supporting instead the stagnation in order to minimize the amount of casualties (whether literal or not) around you.  

how to live a life

"Enough! Who says I have to defend myself? I'm a machine, like you. Like all of you. Blood-lust and rage are my character. Why does the lion not wisely settle down and be a horse? In any case, I too am learning, ordeal by ordeal, my indignity. It's all I have, my only weapon for smashing through these stiff coffin-walls of the world. So I dance in the moonlight, make foul jokes, or labor to shake the foundations of night with my heaped-up howls of rage. Something is bound to come of all this. I cannot believe such monstrous energy of grief can lead to nothing!"

Within the eighth chapter of John Gardner's Grendel, Grendel appears to be in the midst of a nervous breakdown. At this point, he seems to be conflicted between the Shaper and the dragon's arguments on living life. 

As the dragon told him earlier, Grendel sought out his pile of gold and sat on it; he finds satisfaction out of grieving the Danes and continues to do so despite Hrothgar's misery. This shows his development from his previous belief that he no longer wanted to threaten the humans, that he wanted to "let them find some other 'brute existent'" (Gardner 73). During the war, Grendel initially seems angry with himself for his thirst of blood. He found it against his will, "mindless as wind," (Gardner 9) to feast upon the humans. His wish to become acquainted with the Danes is apparent when he storms the meadhall, crying out for mercy and peace, though the dragon argues that as long as Grendel exists, the humans will continue to unite against him. 

Although he did so when he was younger, Grendel begins to acknowledge his large superiority over the animals and humans. When he was but a child, he called himself an "ugly god" (Gardner 22), saying that he created the universe with every blink he blinked. His boasts are more prevalent after the arrival of Wealtheow, and he states that Hrothgar is his own creation. He justifies his manipulation and torturing of the king by saying that he is his experiment. By this, he attempts to play God by putting himself above the Danes. 

However, Grendel confesses that he is also a machine, mechanized by blind impulse and instinct just as the ram, the goat, and the humans. In addition with his language, Grendel also shares a methodical way of life with the Danes. Despite saying he was above all of instinctive behavior and has some sort of free will, he slowly begins to fall into that systematic habit of slaughter. What's interesting is that he backs this up by confessing his attacks were his only weapon for "smashing through these stiff coffin-walls of the world" (Gardner 123). By saying this, he is attempting to become his own Shaper in an effort to find a purpose in life. He rejects the purpose presented to him by the Shaper and tries to abide by his own idea which was brought upon him by the dragon, that the Danes' existence relies on his own.

Although he is trying to live by the dragon's advice, he refuses to acknowledge his idea that the world is meaningless, that "in a billion billion billion years, everything will have come and gone several times, in various forms" (Gardner 70). With the Shaper, even if it is false, Grendel is given a reason to live, whereas the dragon claims it's all for naught, that in time no one will even know he even existed. 

As for me, I believe I try to live by the Shaper's words but end up being driven mad by those of the dragon. I've acknowledged that time is quickly passing by and I shouldn't waste time worrying about the inevitable end, but I can't shake the feeling that within a hundred years, nothing I've done will hold any significance. With seven billion individuals in the world, living and dying every second of every day, what difference can I really make? Even more, why does it matter that I make a difference? I feel as though so long as I enjoy the present, there's no need to squander my time fearing oblivion.

the love song of George Willard

"It is impossible to say just what I mean!"
- T.S. Eliot, "The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock"

"One shudders at the thought of the meaninglessness of life while at the same instant... one loves life so intensely that tears come into the eyes." 
- Sherwood Anderson, Winesburg, Ohio


T.S. Eliot's J. Alfred Prufrock and Sherwood Anderson's George Willard both share a fear of the future. For J. Alfred, his fear is more focused on the limited time and life he has left; for George, his fear is of maturity and "sophistication." 

Throughout Eliot's "The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock", the narrator is struggling to express his emotions; he wonders how he would go about communicating his feelings, eventually using up all his time uncommunicative. He acknowledges the amount of life that can occur in such little time: "In a minute there is time/For decisions and revisions which a minute will reverse" (Eliot 47-48). J. Alfred also realizes that time has past him by, that he's grown old with "a bald spot in the middle of [his] hair" (Eliot 40), representing his age and perhaps the knowledge he accumulated over his lifetime. Despite this recognition, he continues grappling with his inability to voice his emotions, fearful of the misunderstanding that he may receive in return. 

This concept of understanding is also represented throughout Sherwood Anderson's Winesburg, Ohio. George Willard portrays the coming-of-age character of the work, to whom multiple characters attempt to teach the truths of life. Wing Biddlebaum tells George that he's destroying himself, that he "must begin to dream" (Anderson 30). In contrast, George's father tells his son to wake up, while Wash Williams informs George that he must stop dreaming and that he wishes to destroy the dreams in the reporter's head. Kate Swift tells him that "it's time to be living" (Anderson 163). This dream state could be equivalent to his lack of maturity during his childhood, in which he has yet to come in conflict with real world problems. His awakening could represent his maturation into adulthood, when he stops concerning himself with affairs with multiple women and begins focusing on his future. 

J. Alfred and George both reach the point where they question every little thing they do. It begins for J. Alfred when he begins to wonder the worth of the minuscule happenings, of "the sunsets and the dooryards and the sprinkled streets" (Eliot 101). He also questions future actions, as simple as eating a peach or parting his hair. His inquisitive state reveals his understanding that every small part of his life makes a difference in the long run. As George makes his departure from Winesburg, "the serious and largest aspects of his life did not come into his mind" (Anderson 247); instead, he also thinks of the little things. He reaches a point when he "takes the backward view of life" (Anderson 234) in which he evaluates how meaningless his life has been. He equates his life up to that point as a leaf blowing in the wind, resembling how weak and dispassionate he's been throughout his adolescent years. This marks his acknowledgment that he wishes to make a change in the future and become more of a "man."

the downfalls of Wing and a creature

Why are we so drawn to tragedy and violence?

From TV shows to video games, novels to movies, these two characteristics draw the attention of many individuals. Sure, there are pacifists and peacemakers, optimists and promoters of love, but they would never have been drawn to peace and happiness hadn't there been war and sadness. Only once the effects and emotions of conflict became known have these individuals yearned for halcyon. 

While reading Winesburg, Ohio, I can honestly say I was instantly drawn to the stories in which some violent, tragic event took place. I did get a rush from analyzing seemingly innocent passages and finding hidden meanings behind them -- Wash Williams and his garden? Hell-ooo, fertility symbolism! -- but I was most interested in the cataclysms of the work, specifically those of Wing Biddlebaum.

Within "Hands," we learn of Wing and his tragic backstory as a school teacher. Accused of touching his children, he is physically beaten by one of the fathers of the students he taught; "tired of beating the master, [he] had begun to kick him about the yard" (Anderson 32). Even more sickening, Wing is attacked by angry townspeople, "throwing sticks and great balls of soft mud" (Anderson 33). His fear and weakness were fuels for the townspeople, who continue to torment him until he is eventually driven out of the town. 

This portion of the story greatly resembles one of Mary Shelley's Frankenstein, in which Frankenstein's creature is chased out of a village. Just as in "Hands," the creature was attacked, "grievously bruised by stones and many other kinds of missile weapons" (Shelley 74). The creature, grossly misunderstood, is unable to reveal his docile nature as a result of his disfigured appearance; on the other hand, Wing is misunderstood, and although he's able to express his quiet character, he chooses not to. 

So why is it that the creature chooses to act out while Wing remains closed off?

Perhaps it is because the creature has never experienced the love associated with a parent, with a partner, or with a friend. His attempts to find a companion failed; his struggles to communicate with others were met with disdain; his deeds of kindness were not returned. Having received only hate and never love, the creature became consumed with this hatred that triggered an impulse to lash out.

In Wing's case, he has the experience of a schoolteacher to tell him what it's like to be loved. Leading up to his horrifying escape from town, Wing was "much loved by the boys of his school" (Anderson 31); he has significant knowledge of expressing love and receiving that love in return. It was the sudden violent acts against him that led Wing to doubt himself, to believe that he had lost the love he had once treasured dearly. With this belief, he begins to hide his major means of expressing love: his hands. 

The tragic downfalls of Wing Biddlebaum and Frankenstein's creature are not dissimilar; they both made decisions that would either hide or eliminate the love they had within themselves. It's these decisions that makes me so interested in them. I wonder if their lives would've been so marred with tragedy and violence had they not made these decisions.

it may not always be so; and i say

it may not always be so; and i say
e.e. cummings

it may not always be so; and i say
that if your lips, which i have loved, should touch
another's, and your dear strong fingers clutch
his heart, as mine in time not far away;
if on another's face your sweet hair lay
in such silence as i know, or such
great writhing words as, uttering overmuch, 
stand helplessly before the spirit at bay;


if this should be, i say if this should be--
you of my heart, send me a little word;
that i may go unto him, and take his hands,
saying, Accept all happiness from me.
Then shall i turn my face, and hear one bird
sing terribly afar in the lost lands.


In e.e. cummings' "it may not always be so; and i say," the narrator seems to be contemplating his fear of the unknown. The main issue of the poem could be the strength of the relationship between the narrator and his lover; he appears worried that his lover will eventually leave him for another, but despite knowing this potential fate, he will continue to love his partner.

The organization of the poem depicts how strongly the narrator feels towards his lover. Overall, the poem is listing future actions the narrator's lover may do with another, and the narrator concludes that he will "go unto him, and take his hands, / saying, Accept all happiness from me" (lines 11-12). However, immediately after this, he talks of turning a face, a sign that he isn't actually accepting of the situation. As one turns his or her face from a lover, it's usually because of an expression that would betray his or her actual emotions. It could be assumed, therefore, that the narrator, despite his actions, may never recover from the idea that his lover will leave him. He nevertheless sacrifices his own happiness for his lover's, hiding his own dissatisfaction in an attempt to appear optimistic for the future.

Specifically with "if your lips, which i have loved, should touch / another's, and your dear strong fingers clutch / his heart" (lines 2-4), the narrator seem detached from this "other" individual. The placement of "another's" and "his heart" in separate lines could represent the division the narrator feels from his lover; it could symbolize his hesitance towards the idea that there's "another" with whom his lover could fraternize. Just as an individual would pause when questioning the future of the relationship between his or her lover, the narrator pauses, somewhat uncomfortably, at the thought of another lover. 

Unfortunately, it's impossible to precisely predict what will happen in the future. "i may go unto him" (line 11) represents the narrator's hope that he will do this, not that he will do it. Just as he fears his lover leaving him, he also fears his inability to cope with the situation. Throughout the poem, the narrator constantly uses "if" statements, only acting certain when he mentions that he shall "turn [his] face, and hear one bird / sing terribly afar in the lost lands" (lines 13-14). Although their future is indefinite, the narrator is confident that he would wallow in depression should his lover leave him. 

Because of the uncertainty of future outcomes, cummings could be arguing that thinking of the future is a trivial matter. The narrator of the poem seems immersed in love at the present time, only evoking sadness when he speaks of the future. Why should he spend time thinking about what could happen when he could be enjoying the time that he is spending with his lover? All relationships will eventually come to an end, whether it be through a split or through death; if the narrator concerns himself with this forthcoming end, he won't be able to find happiness in the present. 

with all due respect

Andrew Wyeth, Christina's World, 1948

re·spect·a·ble

ri' spektəbəl
regarded by society to be good, proper, or correct; of some merit or importance

What does it mean to be respectable, or to have respectability? In Sherwood Anderson's Winesburg, Ohio, the concept of respectability is questionable. 

Within the work, Wash Williams, the telegraph operator of Winesburg, was a man of respect: "When Wash walked through the streets such a one had an instinct to pay him homage, to raise his hat or to bow before him" (Anderson 122). These actions resembled those conducted for a man or woman of high status, or having a quality that ranks them deserving of reverence. However, Wash is also associated with "a huge, grotesque kind of monkey, a creature with ugly, sagging, hairless skin below his eyes and a bright purple underbody" (Anderson 121). Despite being described as extremely ugly and dirty, he is also said to be courageous, as well as the best telegraph operator in the state. In this case, Wash's respectability is based on his confidence and his skillful abilities rather than his appearance. 

It appears that Wash has two different ideas of respectability. As he narrates his falling-out with his wife, his words make it seem as though he's lost respect for her: "'...I didn't want to touch them or her. I just sent her home to her mother and said nothing. There was nothing to say'" (Anderson 126). She was not, therefore, what would be determined as "good, proper, or correct." However, despite this, he treated her like a victim of the circumstance. It was clear that he felt lonely and betrayed after his wife had cheated on him, but he also tried to take all the blame off of her: "'I hated the men I thought had wronged her'" (Anderson 127). Instead of getting angry of her actions, he actually paid her all his savings and the money for the house. In addition, he became aggressive against her mother instead of her. Disregarding her affairs, Wash seemed to still hold some sort of respect or deference for her.

The only time that respect was explicitly included in the "Respectability" story was when Wash was at his wife's house: "'I sat in the parlor of that house two hours... Their house was stylish. They were what is called respectable people. There were plush chairs and a couch in the room" (Anderson 126). Respectability at this point of the story has a more superficial feel than previous implications. Wash described them as "respectable" simply by their home, or by their appearance of being "respectable". This could also be similar to the meaning of "sophistication" in the story entitled "Sophistication." Within that story, George Williard was concerned of acting sophisticated and manly in front of Helen White, even though it made him act in a manner that was unnatural and phony. In fact, the definition of sophisticate is "to make impure, adulterate; to cause to become less natural." Despite their appearances of sophistication, both George and Helen were both still young and wild, eventually regressing to "excited little animals" (Anderson 242). The concepts of respectability and sophistication within Anderson's work are treated as superficial qualities, only associated with individuals who act fake.

a Tintern of events

Benjamin Williams Leader Paintings, Tintern Abbey, 1831-1923

          The sounding cataract
Haunted him like a passion: the tall rock,
The mountain, and the deep and gloomy wood,
Their colours and their forms, were then to him
An appetite; a feeling and a love,
That had no need of a remoter charm,
By thought supplied, or any interest
Unborrow'd from the eye.


In this passage from Wordsworth's Tintern Abbey, the narrator recalls how he felt about nature when he was younger. According to him, nature no longer interests him as an "appetite" needed to be satisfied. Appetite can be defined as an instinctive physical desire, a strong wish or urge. However, his words are hypocritical to how he described nature as a boy.

Earlier in the poem, he had mentioned how his ventures into nature were "more like a man flying from something that he dreads, than one who sought the thing he loved" (Wordsworth 71-73). Nature when he was younger, therefore, was more of an escape than a place of desire. Even as he grew older and mature, Wordsworth began to immerse himself into nature in an attempt to realize his own sense of self, allowing nature to serve as a protective barrier. He described nature as "the anchor of my purest thoughts, the nurse, the guide, the guardian of my heart, and soul of all my moral being" (Wordsworth 110-112). 

Shelley's characters in Frankenstein were largely influenced by nature. The passage from Tintern Abbey was specifically quoted when Frankenstein and Clerval were traveling down the Rhine; Frankenstein was bothered by his task to create a female counterpart for his creation, and Clerval was fascinated by the landscape and scenery surrounding him. However, Clerval was enjoying nature not as a means of escape but rather out of admiration for the setting: "'This is what it is to live,' he cried; 'now I enjoy existence!'" (Shelley 112). As for Frankenstein, his interest in his friend's reaction towards the natural world acted as an escape; his friend's delight allowed Frankenstein to momentarily forget the stressful situation he was in. 

Following the passage of the poem, Wordsworth spoke of how that time was past, "and all its aching joys are now no more, and all its dizzy raptures" (Wordsworth 85-86). It's difficult to understand whether it's the present or the past that the narrator finds more favorable; despite equating nature to love, he also characterized it as having "aching joys." I believe that the joys are aching because they're reminders of simpler times, back when Wordsworth still had his innocence and youth. In a way, this could be equal to the memories Frankenstein had of his friend while they were traveling down the Rhine. As those days were the days he was happiest yet they reminded him of the last days he spent with Clerval, his memories could be described as "aching joys" as well.

Tintern Abbey as a whole was a story focusing on external nature versus internal nature, where the focus shifted from the physical aspects of the natural world to the hidden meaning and significance of it all. In relation to Frankenstein, this conflict between external and internal is similar to the characteristics of both Frankenstein and his creation and the war they have concerning their outward appearances and their inner desires.

burning passion and restrained disdain

Some say the world will end in fire,

Some say in ice.

From what I've tasted of desire

I hold with those who favor fire.

But if it had to perish twice,

I think I know enough of hate

To say that for destruction ice

Is also great

And would suffice.

The end of the world has been on everyone's mind at least once. I know it was definitely trending during winter of last year, the days leading up to December 21st. The end of days is a topic that's always been highly debated, whether it's about its time of occurrence or actual existence.

From a literal direction, Robert Frost is speaking of the world's destruction. Will the world burn or freeze? He acknowledges the destructive capabilities of both fire and ice, that either one would sufficiently fulfill the task of ending the world. However, in addition to their cataclysmic characteristics, he also wrote of their association with "desire" and "hate." Fire and ice, therefore, could be interpreted as "passion" and "loathing."

Passion has often been described as "burning," a quality that could also be associated with fire. When one has a burning passion for something, their yearning is so intent and raw that they'll go to any means to fulfill their want. The individual is consumed by this wish, just as a blazing fire consumes everything in its path. Usually the individual who is passionate is highly expressive of his or her passion, whether it be verbally or visually. The idea of passion revolves around the concept of being able to share that passion to others. Therefore, the passion, or fire, is able to be acknowledged and spread to many people at a time.

Ice can be considered of a preserving nature, freezing life and inhibiting growth. This restraint can be similar to hate, which is often times bottled up within an individual. Just as passion consumes an individual, loathing limits an individual. If someone's described as cold-hearted, they're said to lack affection and only display emotions of hate. Just as their "heart" is cold, as is their nature; their attitudes of hate are piercing and biting, similar to the qualities of ice. 

An example of the downfalls that come from these qualities could be from Mary Shelley's Frankenstein. Passion could be found in Victor Frankenstein, the creator who eventually gets caught up and consumed with the idea of glory and fame. Loathing could be found in Frankenstein's creation, who lived the entirety of his life without love and care. Both characters met their demise as a result of these characteristics, neither of them really obtaining what they had always wanted -- pride for Frankenstein and love for his creation.

The downfall of the world due to either passion or loathing, according to Robert Frost, is neither here nor there. With his attitude, Frost believes that while the end is inevitable, the means through which it occurs is unimportant. By using the word "suffice," it seems as though Robert is acting flippant towards the controversy of how the world will end. Despite the harsh reality of it all, his unconcern portrays him as accepting of the world's eventual fate. 

all the world is grotesque

gro·tesque

grōˈtesk

anything unnaturally distorted, ugly, ludicrous, fanciful, or bizarre, exploiting the abnormal

Leonardo da Vinci, Grotesque Profile, c. 1487

Individuals who abuse, individuals who cower, individuals who insult, individuals who compliment, individuals who laugh, individuals who cry -- despite our differences, we are all humans. Regardless of personality traits, of mental capabilities, of sexual orientation, of religious background... we are all human.

And as humans, we are all grotesque.

As Sherwood Anderson wrote in Winesburg, Ohio, a truth is a composition of "a great many vague thoughts." Man produced these truths with his own knowledge -- truths of virginity and of passion, of carelessness and abandon; "All about in the world were the truths and they were all beautiful" (Anderson 23). These truths were what Anderson associated with all that was awesome in the world.

"And then the people came along. Each as he appeared snatched up one of the truths and some who were quite strong snatched up a dozen of them. It was the truths that made the people grotesques" (Anderson 23-24). His belief was that once man took these truths and tried to live his life by it, he became a grotesque, as did his truth. But was it really the truths that turned us?

According to Sherwood, it was man who created these truths -- truths so incredibly magnificent and wonderful and winsome. If man had been the creator of truth, and mankind had been the collector of these truths, aren't we to blame for our own grotesqueness?

Since the dawn of time, humans have been stumbling through life, seeking that one great truth: what is the purpose of our existence? We've been driven by various ideas and thoughts in an effort to answer this question: we exist to seek knowledge; we exist to achieve biological perfection; we exist to love; 42. Some believe that life has no meaning, or that its meaning is so complex, it's better left alone. This last one, I believe, is an accurate representation of the message Anderson was trying to get across.

Once we as humans accept a truth for what it's worth, we attempt to abide it for all our life. Our persistence in maintaining this truth causes us to waste away and decay, shut from novel possibilities and new ideas. However, in Anderson's work, one of his characters discovered a preventative of keeping out the grotesqueness that comes with truths: "It was the young thing inside him that saved the old man" (Anderson 24). 

When I read this, I thought, "Youth can keep the truth out." When I think of this, images of babes and infants come to mind; so innocent and precocious are they, they're completely oblivious to the truths of the world. It could be acknowledged that this old man from Anderson's story was saved by his regression. 

But then I remembered that the youth wasn't a youth at all. "It was a woman, young, and wearing a coat of mail like a knight" (Anderson 22). Surely poetic and beautiful in its written form, its meaning can be obscure. Perhaps he equating women with gullibility and disregard for the truth; maybe he's praising them for accepting what he cannot, for bracing it like knight.This would make sense as he dedicated his work to his mother, "whose keen observations on the life about her first woke in me the hunger to see beneath the surface of lives."

cats and Frankenstein

A genetically-modified, hypoallergenic kitten.

Love cats but are allergic to them? No longer an issue! Companies such as Allerca and Felix Pets have been developing hypoallergenic cats, or cats that are less likely to cause an allergic reaction to humans. This is accomplished by cellular modification, in which scientists remove or suppress the gene that creates Fel d 1, the allergen protein found in cat saliva. By manipulating this cell, scientists then implant the new gene into a surrogate mother, who would then give birth to an allergen-free kitten.

So what do hypoallergenic cats and Mary Shelley's Frankenstein have in common? Genetic engineering. 

Genetic engineering is highly controversial and widely debated around the world. Involving the direct manipulation of genes, the techniques arise issues on ethic and moral grounds. With hypoallergenic kittens, the controversy is not so extreme; the purpose of the modification is understandable, and as the kitten is transformed while it's still a single cell, the harm is minimum. 

A glow-in-the-dark cat for AIDS research.

Another example could be the breeding of glow-in-the-dark kittens. When I first read about glowing cats, I was outraged: for what purpose would one have to make a cat glow? However, with further research, it was revealed to me that the "glowing" gene implanted in the kittens was an effective resister of feline immunodeficiency virus, or FIV, which causes AIDS in cats. This gene, it was researched, could also be passed on through generations. Although the cats aren't 100% AIDS-proof, the results of these experiments have been promising

In Frankenstein, the purpose of Frankenstein's experimentation with cellular modification are questionable. While Victor Frankenstein evoked numerous displays of seeking glory -- "...but what glory would attend the discovery, if I could banish disease from the human frame and render man invulnerable to any but a violent death!" (Shelley 22) -- he also implied a desire to advance sciences for the future -- "...yet, when I considered the improvement which every day takes place in science and mechanics, I was encouraged to hope my present attempts would at least lay the foundations of future success" (Shelley 32). 

In my opinion, Frankenstein had begun his experiment with primarily selfish motivations. He seemed to have realized his folly after the creation of the monster: "A human being in perfection ought always to preserve a calm and peaceful mind, and never to allow passion or a transitory desire to disturb his [tranquility]" (Shelley 34). Perhaps he had regretted his greed for fame, or maybe he felt guilty for being consumed in his work; nevertheless, his regret was short-lived. 

When Frankenstein was working on his creation's female counterpart, he began to think of the potential consequences following her awakening. Initially, it seemed to me that he was worried for the future of mankind should he follow through with his experiment: "Had I a right, for my own benefit, to inflict this curse upon everlasting generations?" (Shelley 121). However, immediately after this, he voiced another fear that "future ages might curse [him] as their pest," a fear that seems more oriented towards his own selfishness. The worry about his creation and the female wreaking havoc is understandable; the monster had committed murder, and maybe with a new friend, these acts would increase. On the other hand, he seemed more concerned with his namesake rather than the safety of the people. Afraid of how his name would forever be associated to the potential havoc, Frankenstein decided to end his experiment.

With the manipulation of genes within the aforementioned kittens, the purposes were strictly scientific. In Frankenstein's case, however, his goals seemed to be a combination of both scientific advancement and achieving fame. Scientific experiments, I hope, are conducted for the betterment of life. If genetic engineering were to be conducted, it should be done with good intentions rather than achieving glory.