Wednesday, January 20, 2010
Sunday, October 21, 2007
Benevolence in Frankenstein
I noticed how many times Shelley uses the word "benevolence" in Frankenstein. Frankenstein uses it to describe Elizabeth, his father, Justine, the landscape; even his creation uses it to describe himself. The only person in the novel who is not described as benevolent is Frankenstein himself. I think this is a very interesting word to be used since in implies not just kindness, but kindness towards one's fellow creatures. Perhaps I'll have more thoughts on this as I finish the book...
Saturday, October 20, 2007
Thoughts on the current popularity of Austen
I've been thinking about the recent renewed interest in Jane Austen, and I can't help but look towards today's obsession with celebrity gossip for some sort of explanation. Never before have there been so many magazines, TV shows, and websites devoted to prying into and commenting on celebrities' lives--US Weekly, In Touch, OK Magazine, Perez Hilton.com, DListed.com, Access Hollywood, Insider, etc, etc, etc. The general public has become fascinated with the intimate details of the lives of others; and not only do they want to know about them, they want to talk about them. I think Jane Austen appeals to this current vein of interest, especially in female audiences. And, just as women are fascinated by the glamour of celebrity, I believe that the world of Jane Austen, with its foreignness of time and place, offers a similar window into what is thought of as a better, more glamorous life.
Thursday, October 18, 2007
Jane Austen
This is The Jane Austen Society of North America's website, which I find pretty interesting to look through. It has a great biography of her as well as pictures of the homes she lived in. AND, you can even take an Emma quiz, enter an essay contest, and go to group meetings for Jane Austen lovers. What more can I say?
http://www.jasna.org/info/about_austen.html
http://www.jasna.org/info/about_austen.html
Tuesday, October 2, 2007
Constant's "Adolphe"
I hate to say this, but I think we've got another narcissist on our hands. Adolphe is a perfect example of a man consumed and motivated by amour propre, to the extent that his entire love affair with Ellenore would not have existed had his ego not been compromised by her rejection at the start of the novel. Adolphe wants to be loved, a condition most likely stemming from his relationship with his father; a relationship marked by suffering and the desire for affection and validation. Consequently, Adolphe relates to Ellenore as an affirmation of his self worth and of his mastery of manhood--her eventual decision to not only take him on as a lover but to sacrifice everything for him was the ultimate stroke of his ego. Yet despite the unhappiness he experiences in the relationship, he is unable to extricate himself. It is not as he might have you believe (an inability to hurt the woman who loves him), but rather a refusal to remove himself from a situation in which he is loved, even if it makes him miserable. For if he left Ellenore he would face an existence in which his amour propre must be strong in and of itself, without the affirmation of another person. And so Adolphe chooses amour propre over amour soi (surely he would be happier and healthier outside of this mutually tormenting relationship), until of course the relationship is ended for him by a third party.
And this is my favorite part because this is where the determination of his amour propre turns into a narcissistic fantasy: Adolphe is revealed to Ellenore as the incensere creep that he is, thereby breaking her heart. But rather than her detesting him and walking out on him, leaving him to suffer in his guilt, she forgives him and then proceeds to conveniently die. Wouldn't that be nice if everyone you broke up with said that they still loved you and that "you must be free and happy" (116) and then keeled over so that you'd never have deal with them again or wonder if they had eventually found someone better than you! Not to mention how it would feel to know that the withholding of your love was fatal! You cannot be lived without! Ahh, the ego goes unscathed!
This is not love story in which two souls join together and create a union that supports each individual with greater comfort, love, and authenticity. Rather, it is a love story tainted by egoism, narcissism, and social politics, all the way until the end.
And this is my favorite part because this is where the determination of his amour propre turns into a narcissistic fantasy: Adolphe is revealed to Ellenore as the incensere creep that he is, thereby breaking her heart. But rather than her detesting him and walking out on him, leaving him to suffer in his guilt, she forgives him and then proceeds to conveniently die. Wouldn't that be nice if everyone you broke up with said that they still loved you and that "you must be free and happy" (116) and then keeled over so that you'd never have deal with them again or wonder if they had eventually found someone better than you! Not to mention how it would feel to know that the withholding of your love was fatal! You cannot be lived without! Ahh, the ego goes unscathed!
This is not love story in which two souls join together and create a union that supports each individual with greater comfort, love, and authenticity. Rather, it is a love story tainted by egoism, narcissism, and social politics, all the way until the end.
Wednesday, September 19, 2007
Piraha Amazonian Tribe
Here is the New Yorker article on linguistics we were discussing in class today for those of you that were interested. It really is an amazing article. Hope the link works...
http://www.newyorker.com/reporting/2007/04/16/070416fa_fact_colapinto
http://www.newyorker.com/reporting/2007/04/16/070416fa_fact_colapinto
Saturday, September 8, 2007
Discipline and Punish
In reading the first chapter of Foulcault's Discipline and Punish from 1975, I couldn't help but think of Susan Sontag's Regarding the Pain of Others, which she published nearly thirty years later in 2003. Sontag's book deals primarily with our fascination with images and representations of war and cruelty, certainly not attempting to describe the evolution of the penal system or our ability to discipline individuals. However, what brought Sontag's book to mind while reading Foulcault was his arguement that we no longer want to see torture and punishment; that we have pushed it first into the dark and then transformed it into the court trial. What Sontag shows us is that we are still fascinated and drawn to the sight of the "wrong" being tortured. The difference between the middle ages and now, of course, is that our desire to witness cruelty toward others has become voyeuristic and closeted. It no longer occurs in the town square where we all openly cheer it, but rather on cell phone videos, or emerging photos, or youtube clips, and we all gravitate to the images in fascination while often simultaneously condemning it. Look, as Sontag does, to the events at Abu Ghraib, or the widely circulated video of Saddam Hussein's execution. Foulcault is correct in his description of the transformation and development of Western discipline and punishment. However, it would be incorrect to say that the medieval mentality toward torture and public punishment has been entirely dissolved from modern ideology, however much we may wish to deny it.
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