End of Libra, English

   Wrapping up Libra has a number of interesting threads from it, from Marguerite's reaction and grief at the end, to Lee's thoughts on what he hoped to do with the rest of his life. Obviously, the actual assassination (or the climax of this book) had a little less oomph to it than a typical novel due to the fact that readers knew that it was coming. The exact details of the event are different (how Lee's last shot went flying out of control for example), but the meat of the situation was known from the beginning of the book. It was a very different experience reading this a book of this style, with much more emphasis on the chapters before and after, and more suspense around those events. Raymo, Bannister, Marina, and all of the other characters motivations were the revelations, rather than the actual peak that they were supposedly leading up to.

   For Marguerite, it’s a very different story from a mother’s point of view, just a son going through his life. At the end, she forms likely the only positive perspective on Lee at that point. Looking at her situation, it's becomes easy to be sympathetic and see the weight behind her grieving. To her, the only major, impactful fact is that her son is dead, with his actions before being irrelevant (and to her, aren't even his fault). This is shown most prominently with how he turns on everyone around Lee, whether accusing Marina of having shady motivations, or wondering what other factors turned him.

   It's interesting how Lee analyzes his future. We talked about how his goal was to turn himself into a historical figure of sorts, and now he has reached that level of notoriety (with that uncommon address with the full name of "Lee Harvey Oswald"). That seems like the ideal situation for him at this point, where he can just sit and appraise his own life.  

   Addressing the Kennedy footage, which wasn't a large part of our analysis, but made a big impression nonetheless: The footage was far more graphic than I thought it would be, the extent of the damage to President Kennedy far exceeded what I originally believed had occurred. It does look to me that the fatal shot comes from the front, but I’ve seen enough articles and games about how human eyes and perception will lie, and given my relative (complete) lack of knowledge about ballistics and the such, to not make any assumptions off of that observation. The video increases the mystique of the event to a degree, with all the analysis, the frame numbers, the old-fashioned nature of the video. It is even more incredible now to think about the trauma Jackie Kennedy had to go through, all the things she has to do within the hour, from her husband shot, to being present at the swearing in of Lyndon B. Johnson.

Kennedy Assassination and Libra

   Taking the poll during class for what we believed actually occurred during the Kennedy assassination, the three options being the Warren Commission conclusion, a larger conspiracy, and what I answered, that we will never definitively know. I have to add to this conclusion by mentioning that I don't care as much to participate in this debate. We tried to answer the question of why what actually happens should matter to us now, and came up with something along the lines of, "if there really is a conspiracy, that's earthshattering news." If the conspiracy was actually strongly established I won't deny it's significance, but again, I highly doubt there will ever be the widespread agreement for that to take place. At the moment, supporting the conspiracy or not is of no relevance, beyond that I feel a little better everyday believing that our government isn't/wasn't pursuing sabotage.

   Perhaps this attitude could be taken for being apathetic, and that's something I've been accused of being before with other topics. For some ventures (like giving to the homeless, donating to charitable organizations in which your contribution helps regardless of how many others contribute), having the "correct" mentality and an "every little bit matters" attitude is important to me. On the other hand, for the kinds of winner take-all (or in this case, no winner at all) competitions, where one's contribution is irrelevant, only the practical impact on me matters.  

   Having this mentality doesn't prevent me from enjoying Libra. Indeed, I think it may be helpful, in that I'm not feeling any conflict from preconceived notions and what's happening in the book.

   We talked about how there was a "paper trail" planted as a plausible path to the failed attempt that investigators would "discover." It doesn’t seem that elaborate, and really seems almost vital for the attack’s success. Even if the near-miss was pulled off correctly, the aftermath could possibly create an almost anti-conspiracy conspiracy theory, where the accepted explanation (in this case the Cuban planned attack) is railed against for lack of evidence. Instead, the actual turn of events could be theorized (given how plausible that such a conspiracy to frame Cubans would be given the political climate, and widespread mistrust of government. It’s all very believable, and far more plausible to me than many popular conspiracies). With a subsequent investigation, it’d seem that we’d be in much the same situation that we are now, with different general conclusions and conspiracies.

 

Kindred

  Our reading of Kindred has presented a perhaps even bleaker view of slavery than had previously been taught. Despite Octavia Butler's admittance that she toned down the depictions of life in the book in order to make the reading somewhat palatable for readers, scholars have often noted the realism of the brutality shown. Interwoven with the bleak situation is the somewhat fantastical narrative of Dana and her warps through time, which (especially the contrast between 1976 perceptions and the slavery era's) further drives home the effects previously mentioned. 

   Compounding the issues we see with the setup is the background of the main characters involved. Dana is obviously forced right into the nightmare wheel by virtue of her race, but even Kevin's views put him in a similarly devastating position. He's already had to deal with the racism and backlash from his family in "current" time, before having to survive with beliefs several magnitudes worse. There's many individuals (especially in 1976, with greater proximity to times of even more prevalent discrimination) for which their experiences in that time switch may have actually reduced the impact of what they witnessed. 

Switching gears, we discussed how the gun pointing scene near the end of The Fight demonstrates that Rufus is becoming more like his father. I don’t find Rufus too problematic a character. It’s simply too much to expect a white male in not only a slave-owning period, but an incredibly slave focused environment to not pick up on the typical traits of the time. 

I hesitate to call Dana naive for feeling so confident in her relationship with Rufus, and rather think she just tries too hard to show her impact in preventing the behavior change. Her developing maternal feelings for Rufus make the situation especially difficult. It’s clearly not the most surprising event given some of Rufus’ previous behavior, but altogether I find it hard to assign any negative connections to either character, especially since Rufus' motivations (however twisted) were based on some positive feelings.

 

  

Slaughterhouse Five

   Slaughterhouse Five is a book that's familiar to many, even to those who have not actually read the novel. It's been laden with controversy (banned in numerous libraries and schools) while being wildly successful (and massively boosting Vonnegut's fame). Given the unusual weave of an alien-inspired narrative with a dire account of the bombing of Dresden (and all the quirks within), the first result is not terribly surprising. It is interesting however, to map just how the book did so well, and the effects that that triumph had.

   Slaughterhouse Five was released in 1969, during some of the heights of Vietnam War controversy. It's been said that the themes of the book helped connect with many readers' anti-war sentiments. Moreover, the weakening of trust in government at the time helped Vonnegut push a more objective view on the events in Dresden (a view held by Vonnegut himself). These ideas hold up well through some reasoning: For a more optimistic audience, the book would seem to much harder to swallow. The constant refrain of "so it goes" to ends, and a general push towards a resigned acceptance of doom would seem to be repulsive to many, and yet the majority of readers had no such pushback.
 
   Of course, the success of Slaughterhouse Five also has to be attributed to the power of the author himself. Vonnegut applies extremely liberal amounts of dark humor to great effect, balances the several simultaneous narratives through different periods of Billy's life, all while showing self-awareness with his early apology.

   Going further into Vonnegut, he seems to have had an interesting trajectory before and after the writing of Slaughterhouse Five. Prior to its release, Vonnegut had had critical successes, but without popular acclaim, he had to use his writing of short stories to support a family. His star had slowly been rising in the couple of years before, before Slaughterhouse really skyrocketed it, to a point where that he didn't seem to reach afterwards. Breaking away from one stereotype I held on acclaimed writers (holed-up hermits who hate attention, or Salinger most prominently), Vonnegut used the fame for college commencements and other speeches. It was a interesting departure from what I had expected.

   I decided to write more of an outsider look on Slaughterhouse because I'm still yet to figure out what I really think of the book. Unlike our previous readings, it doesn't lend itself (to me at least) well to this practice, but as of now, it's pretty neutral.
 

Mumbo Jumbo about Mumbo Jumbo

   Mumbo Jumbo, an unusual name for an unusual book. For all the quirks and eccentricities of most of the text however, the style of ending is one we've likely all seen many times before (most commonly in mystery stories). The villain (Hinckle Von Vampton in this case) is confronted by the intrepid protagonists (PaPa LaBas) with an incredibly long and detailed explanation of the entire situation to onlookers. The villains sweat it out (literally in this case with Vampton and Gould) before being taken away while making armfuls of empty threats (the return of the murderous Biff Musclewhite in this case). It's a common ending, that in a decidedly uncommon novel creates an interesting contrast, especially given the nature of the details used in the explanation.

   I'm not familiar at all with Egyptian theology, but the basic premise of conflict between Set and Osiris was made known to me recently (mostly through the trailers of the new, big-budget Gods of Egypt movie, which also seemed to push Set as villain). LaBas' explanation begins normally, using this premise through Set's issues with the precursor of Jes Grew. The details and dialogue rapidly devolve however, to the point where they're almost comical. I first noticed this when Thoth orders an autopsy for Osiris, an action that makes little sense in the context of Ancient Egypt. Modern phrases are constantly inserted here and there (Set deciding he would "come on up and give the folks a show"), which creates a strange blend of story in which a reader is always aware of the fact it's a LaBas retelling. An extreme mix of historical figures and what I would characterize as an angry teenager's style of speech comes with Moses' departure from Jethro ("Look leave me alone. Silly old man out here in the backwoods... Here's the copyright fee for the junk you taught me"). Even ignoring the nonsense of "copyright", it's stunning to associate a figure like Moses to dialogue of that style.

   There's a been of a lot of talk on other blogs about the author's relationship to modern-day Jes Grew, the Wallflower Order, and Atonism. I was surprised at the relation between what I thought was very recent idea (Wallflowers in the context of social gatherings) to this society in a 1972 postmodernist novel. I've never embraced Jes Grew styles of enjoying life, and no amount of high school has seemed to change that (although I have gained more appreciation for it). It does seem that many stories rip on those who do embrace Jes Grew however (typically more socially involved kids), which has created an overused storyline to me.  

Postmodernist history, the end of Ragtime

   While I was thinking about I thought a postmodernist history would look like, I found an article with surprising relevance on the topic. It outlined what the author believed was an accurate description of what postmodernist outlooks on situations generally looked like, before delving deeper into the topic of history. Along with a look on this article and my own thoughts on the question, I will also give some thoughts on the final chapters of Ragtime.

   I suppose like for a lot of questions, my answer depends. As we talked about in class, super literal interpretations of postmodernism could lead to extremely wishy-washy anything works kind of history. Forgoing that however, I think a postmodernist history pass on value judgements of history. There wouldn’t be as much talking about how "good" or "bad" events were, just what happened. More rigid societal structures (that were common across history) may not be looked upon as favorably, as they oppose the ideas of postmodernism. Because those structures were so ubiquitous, a less positive view of history may be presented.

Interestingly enough, this random article I found pushed ideas extremely similar to those we talked about in class. It detailed how more extreme postmodernists could possibly advocate a kind of "everything can be history" view. In a section eerily titled "History as Fiction", the author details the blending and blurring between history and fiction and how history could be taken as fictional narratives (a prominent idea in our discussions). Our idea of the inability to completely accurately depict history is mentioned as a postmodernist notion. Finally, constant revision of history is emphasized by the author for a postmodernist view.

   After the cautious pace throughout many of the middle chapters of Ragtime, the pace of the final chapters surprised me. Slow, day-by-day description of the negotiations with Coalhouse Walker gave way to a fast wrap-up that made it feel a bit hurried. It felt almost like one of those children's books where they do a huge concluding summary at the end that tells more than the rest of the plot combined. The quick marriage between Tateh and Mother (even with the original marriage drifting apart) cheapened the previous relationship for me, and seemed a little too convenient. The secret genius of Younger Brother really didn't mesh with his previous characterization. There's characteristics I'd associate with those with more hidden talents, but Younger Brother displayed none of these, and seemed to be portrayed as a bit silly at points.

   Altogether however, Ragtime was a work of historical fiction that wove the two parts so well that questions could be posed as to which part was which (if any such distinction is to be made at this point). The sheer number of underlying messages Doctorow was able to push (detailed in a lot of panel presentations) was amazing, and it leaves me wondering just how capable authors and artists can be.
 

The beginning parts

  Postmodernism was one of those concepts I had heard about from time to time, but never bothered probe into. I have always had this vague association between postmodernism and hippies and super stuffy high-class art galleries. The readings (and especially the video shown in class) were extremely instructive in giving me some more concrete ideas about what postmodernism is. I still don't quite have the understanding to fully grasp the full analysis of postmodernism (which didn't do anything to change my view on the stuffy aspect of it given the style of the writing and vocabulary used), but it was an interesting and rather different subject to look into.

  Addressing historical fiction, and one of my main differences between history and fiction (beyond the most mentioned characteristics in class): There’s no shock value when something strange happens in reading fiction like there is reading history, because anything flies in that type of writing. For example, if one read about the Holocaust knowing it was fiction, the likely thoughts would be more along the lines of "the author's sick mind" rather than true horror or something along those lines.

  Ragtime has been an excellent starting book for the class. It blends the historical facts and fictional narrative in believable ways that fit the historical figures. Doctorow does this technique in which he speaks at length just spewing pure historical facts, but seems to me to clearly be pushing an idea. He does this while describing the state of America at the time, with all of statistics of death and disease and the grim adjectives obviously portraying a dire situation. The same technique was applied to his description of Ford, especially with how Doctorow described how poorly Ford viewed workers, a statement that doesn't inspire many positive feelings.

  Devoting a section to the actual plot of Ragtime, Evelyn Nesbit and Emma Goldman's interaction was particularly interesting. The pair seemed to have very differing personalities and levels of experience, and confidence (with Goldman having vastly higher quantities in the last two categories).
Nesbit seems naive, innocent, almost like a student to Goldman’s teacher, as Goldman instructs and talks to her. This more passive nature seems to gel with the historical accounts of Nesbit painted by her Wikipedia article (portraying her as a unlucky woman shafted by the dominant men in her life).