A ramble in the park....

The Object of His Gaze: Gender and Visual Display in ITV's Downton Abbey

2011-09-11T15:03:00.006-04:00

As a young, single, and beautiful upper class woman, Lady Mary Crawley is naturally desired by many men. Indeed, the series opens with concerns about her impending marriage—or lack thereof—to a suitable man. Throughout the series, she is presented as bait for other men, “however many times it takes,” a notion reinforced by her mother, her father, her grandmother, and even her aunt. Within this narrative, Mary is displayed in all her finery—she is clothed in rich gowns that accentuate her best features, her hair is styled to perfection, her jewels add to the glamour surrounding her, and even the manner of her walk and elocution are designed to heighten her attractiveness.

Interestingly, Mary is also visually “displayed” on another (meta) level through the medium of film. Like her suitors, the viewer is invited to gaze at her, thus positioning her as an object, passive and devoid of desire or agency. Moreover, as seen through her interaction with Matthew, the gaze is structured as masculine, reifying her as an object of visual pleasure for men. Laura Mulvey’s theories on the objectification of women in film will be employed to expound on this idea.

From the beginning that Mary is the one “to be looked at,” not the bearer of the look. When Matthew first meets Mary, he stares at her, struck by her beauty. As seen in the shot below, the viewer forms an implied association with Matthew and is led to view Mary in a similar manner. From their first meeting, Mary is already classified as an object.

Matthew looks:

Mary is looked at:

Matthew keeps looking at her during the dinner with Pamuk, watching her flirt and parade around with another man while ignoring him. Thus, she is viewed as a seductress, easily tempted and therefore weak in her resolve. The viewer’s sympathy is directed towards Matthew, the hero, and we are meant to think badly of Mary here. Additionally, there’s a power struggle at work: Matthew appears to want Mary for himself, itching to keep an eye (and thereby control) her movements and behavior. Her availability to other men—and thus, her freedom—seems to unsettle him.

Mary flirting with Pamuk:

Matthew’s rather stern look of reprimand:

Mary is also viewed voyeuristically, further objectifying her as well as increasing her sexual value. Matthew literally hides behind the door and stares at Mary’s figure, a look of yearning and hunger in his eyes:

As an object, Mary’s full figure, including her bare back, is revealed as she walks the length of her room:

Matthew’s gaze is stronger in the climatic scene in Episode 6, where he looks at Mary while her eyes are turned downwards, suggesting her submission and powerlessness.

However, we only see Mary’s face during the kiss. By keeping Matthew’s face hidden, Mary is displayed once again. The viewer can relish in seeing her muscles flex, her mouth open, her chest heave, her fingers touch. By virtue of being unreadable, Matthew is more powerful while Mary is shown as the desired, the seductress, the weaker of the two.

By having the viewer identify with Matthew, Mary is viewed as an object of the male gaze. Indeed, other cinematic choices make her more attractive to male viewers. For example, Mary is seen being fitted a corset and her half-naked figure is displayed on screen, even though it does not add anything substantial to the story. Likewise, we never see a half-naked Matthew, the object of a female gaze.

The depiction of Mary in Downton Abbey conforms to Mulvey’s theories of the paradoxical female character in many mainstream media films. In order to satisfy the male ego, the female figure is fetishized and also dismantled by either being saved or punished.

As in Mulvey’s conclusion, Mary’s character is written to be saved and punished. Matthew is perceived by those around her as a figure who will save her. Her mother tells her not to quarrel with him because one day she may need him, under the assumption that Mary will find a powerful protector in him. Her grandmother notes that Matthew’s proposal is the “only decent offer she will ever get.” Mary is also punished in several ways: in the highly charged episode 3, Pamuk literally throws himself at her and steals her virtue, thus symbolically punishing her for her forwardness and rejection of the hero (Matthew) earlier; Matthew himself rejects her just as she attempts to voice her desire for him.

It is clear that the male gaze is central to Season One, as evidenced by the cinematic and narrative techniques used. Male ways of looking and male desire takes precedence and the female's perspective is shown to be either absent or inferior. However, this way of “seeing” also appears to be retained in Season Two.

Matthew’s furtive look:

Mary displayed and Matthew’s face hidden again:

So it’s important to ask why the male gaze is persistent. Is it for pure entertainment value, where the female is more attractive to audiences as a passive object rather than an active and autonomous figure? Is Downton Abbey just another pedestrian TV show where the same gender inequality and cultural tropes are retained? Or more importantly, why does it continue to grab viewers both male and female in spite of this gendered visualization, and what does it really say about us?

References:
1. Downton Abbey, 2010. TV Series. Directed by Brian PERCIVAL. UK: CARNIVAL FILMS.

2. Laura Mulvey. "Visual Pleasure and Narrative Cinema." Originally published - Screen 16.3 Autumn 1975 pp. 6-18

Credit:
1. Season One screencaps: visionsbeyond.livejournal.com
2. Season Two screencaps: stuckinpast.livejournal.com

The Object of His Gaze by mysticgypsy is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0 Unported License.

Enid Blyton: The Girl Who Never Grew Up

2009-12-20T00:45:00.003-05:00

Enid Blyton was recently selected as one of the most beloved writers of all tie. A J. K. Rowling of her day, she wrote nearly 750 books in a writing career that spanned half a century. Her books have been translated into several languages, and her imagination continues to inspire generations of children all over the world. A new biopic, starring Helena Bonham Carter, seeks to complicated our understanding of Blyton by tactfully examining the universal conflict between art and mother, ambition and service.

Bonham Carter's succint portral of Blyton reveals the dual nature of the writer. On the surface, she appears to be a petite, slender and matronly woman. Her hair is neatly combed, she wears plain dowdy dresses and sensible flat shoes, and she speaks in a monotone, addressing suitable epithets to the people around her. However, in her private moments, we see a different side of her. Alone in her bedroom, she is careless about her appearance and wards off her husband. When she writers alone, her brow furrows with concentration and her face darkens. Indeed, when she is interrupted by the maid or the children, the visible sign of anger conveys a sense of bieng possessed by writing. She insists that she must be left alone in order to craft her stories and takes great measures to shut out the world. In this way, Bonham Carter sympathetically unravels a woman much like a Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, a woman whose dual personality is compounded by the way she wrestles her own childhood demons.

While childhood is the central theme in all her works, it is one that is ironically shunned in her personal life. Blyton's childhood was an unhappy one after her beloved father left the famaily when she was still a child. But by burrowing into her work for comfort, her children's childhoods were also unhappy. Blyton did not love her children the same way she did her "fans"--other children who wrote to her and even came to her house for tea while her own daughters were admonished to the nursery. It appears that her art, and her fans, demanded more of her, occupied so much of her time, that, by not being a good mother or caring for her children, she unwittingly inflicted wounds on their own childhoods. But perhaps it is this conflict, this difficulty to grapple with childhood and its myriad forms, which infuses Blyton's works with the poignancy and reality of childhood. For in childhood are our joys and sorrows, and art, inevitably is created out of loss--even if the price of that is motherhood and service to one's own children.

The Artifice of a Manless World: A. S. Byatt's "The Children's Book" and the Perils at Women's Colleges

2009-11-02T17:16:00.013-05:00

A.S. Byatt's "The Children's Book," is set at a time when college education for women was just beginning to take shape. Two of the female characters--Griselda Wellwood and Florence Cain--attend Newnham College in Cambridge while other characters like Dorothy Wellwood and Elsie Warren find alternate ways to gain the education that enables them to build careers. This novel explores the ambiguities surrounding women's education and questions the ethics built into women’s education system. Although the setting is early twentieth century, I believe many of the issues explored are relevant to the present day.

It is crucial to ask the significance of Byatt’s work: is it merely a quasi-historical narrative to be shelved on the “women’s history” aisle, or is it a cautionary tale—much like a fairy story—that is supposed to warn women about the perils they are in. If the latter is true, then what type of women is the target population? Is it western women or women of color living in the west? Is it women in developing countries? Is it women in a chiefly patriarchal cultural system?

The themes relating to women’s education explored in the novel resonated strongly with me as I am not only a graduate of an elite women’s college, but a subaltern taught under the British system.

Speaking of college women, Griselda Wellwood remarks to Florence Cain:

"I feel a lot of incompatible things. I feel I must think or I'll go mad. And then I think of those colleges full of women--knitting, I imagine them, and flower-arranging, and drinking cocoa. And I think, is it like taking the veil, which is an idea that's always given me the horrors. Unhealthy, part of me says. And part of me says it is all secretly exciting. New. Doing things women haven't done, aren't expected to do. Things brothers take for granted...one would be a new kind of human being--" (495).

I was motivated to apply to women’s colleges because, like Griselda and Florence, I wanted to concentrate on academics without competing with traditional female duties like marriage. I wanted to nurture my feminist leanings and fight against sexism in my society. I thought college would enable me to “do things women haven’t done” (the women in my society, at least.)

It was only later, after graduating, that the reality of what I had chosen dawned on me. For Florence, however, it came early, for Byatt tells us that, "Florence was in a turmoil…And she did see her future as, perhaps, the choice between thinking and sex." (495).

I had chosen to think and before I knew it, four years of my youth flew by, as I abstained from the society of men. Men were scarce at my college and the only ones you would see on campus were men you could not have: boyfriends, fathers, and rarely brothers. Like many a young woman brought up in a traditional home where one needed to “save face” and where a liaison outside of marriage in inappropriate places was forbidden, I had no desire to party the night away in a raunchy frat or risk being date-raped in a bar. In America, unlike other commonwealth nations, communities from my cultural group were hard to come by. As a result, there weren’t enough opportunities to meet men the proper way: in dinners surrounded by chaperones (old aunties) or a quiet event in a religious center. I also was not terribly drawn towards the men who were different from me. I did not even have the opportunity to pick.

When Florence and Griselda discuss their future with Dorothy, who knew "exactly what she wanted" as she was going to be a doctor, Griselda notes that "she half-desired to spend the rest of her life in this College--largely because here she could call her life her own, and do what she wanted to do, which was to think..." (525).

I, too, thought I wanted to get a PhD and work in a liberal arts college—albeit women’s college—and inspire a future generation of young feminists who will change the world. But then I thought: what world will they change? For I wished to do that and the only path I have open is academy if I chose to get a PhD. I knew a PhD didn’t suffice, as Florence remarks to Griselda: "But is this enough, all these earnest women, and timid girls and the artifice of a manless world?"

In another instance, talking to Julian Cain, who questions her if she will settle in Newnham and study for the rest of her life, Griselda alludes to Florence’s point by remarking, "I cannot make my mind up. Sometimes I think a women's college is like the tower Rapunzel was shut in, or even the gingerbread cottage. I don't want to become unreal. Do you know what I mean? I think it is different for men." (537).

Florence and Griselda are both correct in noticing how the women’s college is nothing but “an artifice of a manless world.” I learnt too late how much of an artifice a women’s liberal arts college really is. True, there were opportunities to form strong bonds with women but I believe it could be formed anywhere. I, certainly, would naturally gravitate towards women because that’s what I feel most comfortable with. Having been taught to stay away from men, one becomes expert at forming bonds with women for companionship. Excluding men from women’s colleges creates an artificial world, especially for those women like me who have to go out into the real world and acquaint themselves with men’s ways and may not be able to cope for they were never given the opportunity to mingle with men in that capacity prior to going to college.

I believe, as Florence notes correctly,

"The truth is...that the women we are--have become--are not fit to do without men, or live with them, in the world as it was. And if we change, and they don't, there will be no help for us. We shall be poor monsters, like Viola in Twelfth Night, or Miss Harrison's harpies and gorgons.” (526).

I know now that I cannot do without men, even though I pretended it was possible, or that I could wait until a man will come along who would know the woman I have become. The biological clock waits for no (wo)man. College does not tell you that, hence adding to the artifice. It is so focused on making you smart that it overlooks developing you—especially the shy, subaltern you—as a romantic partner. Even good, respectable men in my community want young wives, not one that is bohemian, seeking self-fulfillment at the expense of her age. Add to that the present economic crisis, when women who pursued the development of their minds and chose dead subjects as their majors found themselves unemployable. There is hardly a sadder sight than a single woman in reduced circumstances, unprotected and alone. While this seems to be something Austen’s Mr. Knightley would take pity upon, the modern world cannot shut a blind eye either. Indeed, for many women, penury is a real threat to forming an alliance by marriage. A woman without connections or fortune is the worst of the lot. Unlike a 19^th century governess who can teach and thereby employ her talents, the poor woman nowadays is lucky if she can scrape floors and diaper other people’s babies.

College does not shield Florence from temptations, however, for within a year, she falls pregnant with an older man's child, and marries another man. Florence escapes college and finds fulfillment in her baby and marriage while taking classes from a tutor. She does not regret leaving college.

Griselda, on the other hand, continues her studies and eventually becomes a research student at Newnham while warding off any idea of romance. Griselda finds that her degree in History, with a concentration in German fairy tales, is useless. She later trains as a nurse and assists in the war efforts. In the end, we see that "Griselda had become fixed, efficient and almost spinsterly as the war went on. [Her mother] was almost resigned to seeing her close herself into a college." (675).

Thus, Byatt ends her novel by showing the options open to women who pursue an education: Florence leaves college to raise a baby; Griselda is set towards a “spinsterly” career as an academic; Dorothy saves lives on the battlefield; Elsie marries and thus has no need to work (teach). Each of them is fulfilled in a different way and neither is fulfilled in both an intellectual and romantic manner. It appears that education is not compatible with family life.

It serves to question how far we have come in the 21^st century. Although we have female doctors who raise children, they have a spouse who helps. If men do not change and adapt to women’s changing roles in society, women—those that desire men, that is—cannot be fulfilled.

Bright Star Movie Review

2009-10-16T00:06:00.016-04:00

I had high hopes for this movie, but I must say, now that I've finally watched it, that I was rather disappointed. I thought it would be just as mesmerizing and emotionally compelling as "The Piano," but I found it lacking as a substitute for that former masterpiece.

First, what I found troubling about this movie is that there was little or no friction. By friction, I mean conflict. I just didn't see what the two lovers were so afraid of (besides their nebulous feelings for each other). Fanny's mother is not overbearing and I didn't notice any significant perils in their relationship. In "The Piano," Ada and the men in her life were mysterious and there was such a sexual charge in their encounters together. One is drawn to Ada's story because she is exceptional: she is mute, repressed, and rebellious. "Bright Star" does not really contain exceptional material. In simplest terms, it is a boy-meets-girl tale of first love set in 19th century.

Next, the acting didn't draw me so much. Abbie Cornish was a wonderful actress, however, and I do think she made full use of her role. However, her role wasn't complex enough and I think it could have been written better. Cornish was very expressive, but because there wasn't an explanation of the conflicts (if there were any to begin with) she had to overcome, we didn't know how to place her emotions. For example, her mother seems rather liberal in allowing her to mix with the young Keats rather than fear for Fanny's standing in society. We also don't know anything about her family: there's no indication about Fanny's family's class and wealth. With regard to acting, Ben Whishaw delivered a good performance as Keats and I think I shall remember the poet based on my impression of Whishaw. Still, there was an uncertainty in his portrayal. I wonder to what extent this had to do with the character and what extent it had to do with the actor playing the character. This question would have been clarified if we had been given a better introduction regarding the conflict and setting of the story. As far as the other actors are concerned, they were unremarkable, nothing but "types" rather than rounded characters with unique and realistic conflicts. Again, all the main characters in "The Piano" are unique, unforgettable, and very complex (and I am a Victorian/Postcolonial scholar).

As the movie did not have a proper conclusion regarding Fanny, it negated the centrality of her character in the movie, if not the title. At the end of the movie, we see Fanny cutting her hair, wearing mourning clothes and walking out on the heath as her brother follows her. The writing on the screen blandly notes that Fanny was seen walking on the heath and that she never forgot Keats. It does not contain any statement about how she survived, how she continued living, and how crucial she was to the remembrance of Keats--essentially, for the reason Campion made this movie in the first place. It is as if the story ended just as Keats' life ended, and indirectly, as if Fanny's life ended with that too.

I wanted to see more about Fanny as a woman. I especially wanted to see more of her sewing because I think that's where the real jewel of the story lay. Sewing is given prominence at the beginning of the movie, when Fanny emphatically defends the act of sewing and tells Keats that it is inferior to writing poetry and that she can make a living from sewing while Keats can barely do that from poetry. What appears to be a promising theme in this film is soon aborted and after about the first quarter of the movie, it disappears and I forgot that Fanny was a great seamstress. I was disheartened to see that Fanny swears that she will not sew anymore when Keats leaves her: this is unlike Ada, for whom playing the piano is visceral.

In "The Piano," the message was that women needed to be free, that silence can be a power, that starting life in a New World involves honoring and discovering artistry. But in "Bright Star," the point seems to be that young people fall madly in love (very cliche), that poetry is drawn from real experience, and that death can come at any time. Um...right. So what else is new?

But I will admit that the film had many virtues, besides the few I alluded to earlier. For example, some film techniques and cinematography worked. The close up of the actors' faces that allowed the viewer to discern their physiognomies and thereby discern their inner turmoil; the jarring contrast created by the continuous juxtaposition of light and dark, shown through the contrasting colors of fabric used in the costumes and lighting in the room contrasted with the dreariness of the landscape outside; the reading of the poetry, the lilting quality of the voices, the "sensuousness" of imminent death.

Overall, I wanted to love this movie, to rate it as exceptional, as I did its predecessor. A strong supporter of Campion's work, I expected this film to delve deeper into feminism and art, and as a consequence, am perhaps a harsher critic of this work. A little more conflict and better set up could have helped this film truly shine as the star in its title.

Rating: 3.5/5 stars.

The Enchanted April

2008-08-03T19:05:00.007-04:00

I recently read the book 'The Enchanted April' by Elizabeth Von Arnim, and also watched the movie starring Polly Walker and Miranda Richardson. Although the movie was well made, I think the book is an even greater delight to read.

The plot is centered on four women who rent a medeival castle in Italy for the month of April in the 1920s. Each woman, initially, wishes to be alone to contemplate, for each has her own story. There's Lotty Wilkins, who is married to a mercenary solicitor called Mellersh Wilkins; Rose Arbuthnot seeks comfort in religion after a failed marriage to Frederick Arbuthnot, an author of salacious memoirs that she is embarassed to read; young Lady Caroline Dester wants to escape high society and its adoration of her; and old Mrs. Fisher wishes to think back to her childhood in the nineteenth-century when things were more refined and proper. Through the course of the month, the women open up, learn a little bit more about each other, and grow a little closer.

While I was initially attracted to this book because of the spine of the plot: four women stranded in one place, I wasn't entirely happy with the book.

My main problem with this book is the crux of the story. While the women do change, I feel that they do so primarily because of men. Though they go to the Castle to get away from men, it seemed to me that they needed the men to put their lives back in order. Hence, this is the main reason it loses its feminist stance. True, it is probably feminist for its time, considering it was written in the 1920, but as a 21st century reader, I find the book a little problematic.

Lotty and Rose make up with their husbands. Lady Caroline probably marries Mr. Briggs, and Mrs. Fisher is too old to get a man herself, and there's no hint that she will end up with one. Ironically, perhaps this is the book's message: get back with your menfolk and change them by taking them to an 'enchanted' castle, and you may only remain single and retain your independence if you are old like Mrs. Fisher. Perhaps that is the time to be really happy: Mrs. Fisher is the only one who is not attached to a man. And so, the transformation that she undergoes will have a greater efffect on her and for a longer period.

The ending isn't conclusive. Lotty and Mellersh get togther and the latter pays his wife more attention, certainly, but his motivation is entirely different: He only praises her because she got him close to a rich client, Lady Caroline. So though Lotty thinks he is in love with her, his motivations are different. So we do not know how they will live once they get back to their home in England, whether they will maintain a good relationship or whether Mellersh will go back to his old self.

Rose and Frederick make up at the Castle, but Rose has no idea that Frederick was besotted with Lady Caroline and was probably in love with her. What will happen if Rose finds out? Will she have the same feelings for him? Will she be friends with Lady Caroline? Does Frederick have more feelings for Lady Caroline?

Lady Caroline and Mr. Briggs form a pair. However, what becomes of all that thinking that she did in the Castle? She had asked difficult questions of herself and tried to figure out her place in the world. What happens when she marries Mr. Briggs? Would she lose her independence of thought and instead succumb to being a frumpy housewife?

What is interesting is that it is the entrance of Mellersh, Frederick, and Mr. Briggs that catalyses the change in the women. The women, without the men, have been distant from each other, and have not attempted to grow close to each other. They probably have not even desired it. But the sudden arrival of the men changes that. I definitely wanted to see more of what would have happened without any men in the castle. In short, I wanted to see more of women's relationships with each other in the absence of men.

Nevertheless, I maintain that 'The Enchanted April' is a good read, and certainly better than many books in this genre. It's thought provoking in its own way, and its a gem for its humor.

Berkeley Square

2008-08-03T18:37:00.002-04:00

I recently watched this drama, and I can't say how much I LOVE it! There was a total of 10 episodes and it's a real shame the producers didn't make more! For this is one drama you need to see a sequel for. It's quite mysterious, really, and I can't find any answers on the internet as to why further episodes were not made. There was no evidence to suggest that the series did poorly the first time around. Almost all the reviewers have praised it so far, and my hunch is it wouldn't have been very different back then. For indeed, the series was released in 1998!

A brief introduction is as follows: the series follows the lives of three young nannies during the turn of the century London. The nannies are employed in Berkeley Square, and work fairly close to each other. Matty--also called Nanny Wickam--is an East End girl, prim and proper at first but who learns to loosen up as the series progresses. Hannah Randall, is an Irish maid who has an illegitimate child and is forced to find work after the child's father tragically dies. Lydia Weston is a simple country girl, who has been raised with country manners, and who learns that affairs are conduced very differently in London. Though the three nannies's lives revolve around their charges, we see other facets of their lives as well. For example, we see the difficulties of working conditions in London, the transition from country to town, and the hypocricy of morality. An interesting component of this series is that it shows people of different social classes (such as the nannies' employers), ages, and genders. and their desires and travails.

I am writing this entry because I wish to articulate my feelings about the ending of the series. A lot happens in episode 10. Ned is sent to Somalia, leaving Matty alone but hopeful of a reunion in a few months' time; Bertie lies to the police about Billy allowing Hannah to keep Billy but also, as a result, sending Mrs. Brunowski to be hanged; Nanny Simmons sees Hannah with Billy; Lydia makes up with Mr. Fowler and they seem to have a promising start; Mrs. St. John finds out she is expecting and is on the verge of taking a drastic action; Isabel Hutchinson is to be married to Captain Mason despite his liaison with Mrs. St. John; Jack does not tell Lydia that he fought for her honor; the Lamson-Scribners might make up with Hugh, and tons more possibilities and hints. I've made up some parts of the continuing story, but I'd love to have seen an actual sequel. I wouldn't mind even if they did a series now...after all, it's been 10 years, and I am sure the actresses haven't aged that much. The children might have, and that's fine, though I'd miss little soulful-looking Bertie, and cheeky Harriet. I looked up some pictures of the actresses now, and they really don't look aged. For example, Hermione Norris, who plays Mrs. St. John, looks decent and only a tad aged, but she is 40, after all.

Anyway, I feel better having written this entry. I think it'll help me learn to let it go.

P.S. I know it's been ages since I've written last. It's been a whirlwind since then, really. However, I've written now and that's what counts.

More than Meets the Eye: Review of The Portrait of a Lady, and Rethinking Henry James

2007-07-13T13:12:00.000-04:00

I've finally managed to finish reading the mammoth of a work that is Henry James' The Portrait of a Lady, after having first attempted the task about ten years ago. I never could dive into it then, or the few other times over the years when I took it up again, and I almost gave up on it this time as well. I would have resigned it to mold in the the dusty shelves of unreadable literature in the repertoire of my mind, had I not been encouraged, a while ago, to give up my former prejudice of James.

A few months ago I endured the ordeal of reading What Maisie Knew, which turned me off from James' other works altogether. If I had earlier wanted proof about how odious his works seemed to me, I thought I had it this time. But alas! I was mistaken. An English professor heard of my experiences with Maisie and my distaste for James, and being an Americanist and an ardent James fan herself, she handed me her own copy of The Portrait of a Lady, peered into my eyes, and almost made me promise to give it a good try. Inwardly, I refused to yield, and the book lay where she had left it for a month, by which time she happend to see it, and asked me how I found it. I fumbled for words, making excuses for a busy schedule and the heat of the summer and such nonsense, until her smile fell, she looked at me askance, and said she was sorry and won't ask me again.

A few weeks ago, however, lacking a good book to read, I found James' book and flicked it open to reaffirm my triumph in being right about what a bore it would be. However, I was drawn, somehow, from the first page. It wasn't convoluted like Maisie. And I was genuinely interested in the main characters, though I agree some were "odious" and usettling. I've discovered that James' characters, to me at least, aren't very likeable. They are mostly lofty and distant. However, it's his acute perception of the events in their lives that illuminates the human consciousness that we all share, which makes one reach out to such cold, suave, and often manipulative, characters.

Although I'd agree that James could have made The Portrait half its length, I still think that, if it had to be that long, one ought to read it simply because of the last few chapters. That is where the secrets are revealed and events spiral to a climax. It is the two secrets at the core of the novel that I want to focus on in this post.

The first is Pansy's parentage, and how it links to Isabel, and the second is Isabel's learning that her cousin was the agent of her (mis)fortune.

Like Isabel, even the readers aren't fully aware of the the manipulations of Osmond and Madame Merle, until the very end. James has the satisfaction of manipulating his readers, so that we feel like Isabel in the end. While reading the book, I wondered why hardly any mention was made of Pansy's mother. We never see Pansy talking about her (her father wouldn't have allowed it, no doubt), and even Isabel doesn't push it. Even before the secret is spelled out, we know that three women will be connected: Isabel, Serena Merle, and Pansy. And they are connected not merely by their relationship with Osmond, but also by what he represents. For he is patriarchy at its worst. He controls all three women, and robs them of their freedom. He lusts after Madame Merle (and she for him), but their union is doomed because of her lack of money. While he can afford to act the dillettante, he hasn't the courage or the integrity to take responsibility for his actions. He is too concerned with appearances that would be bought through money alone. Though Madame Merle would have clung to him, he would not let her. The least she could do is look out for her child, and so entrusts Pansy to the care of Osmond. She also believes that money might purchase the happiness she seeks. For all that, Madame Merle is a free spirit. She lives independently and is unobstructed by any man. However, her freedom is circumscribed by her motherhood: She will always be tied to Osmond though Pansy. As a mother she does not want to see Pansy suffer, and has high hopes for her. In the interest of Pansy, Merle manipulates Isabel, evidence as to how the oppressed are driven to become the oppressors.

Both Merle and Osmond conceal the "shame" of Pansy's birth, so that Pansy is elevated to the status of a saint. However, this is an illusion, as Isabel learns later. We do not know if Pansy will ever know the truth about herself, or how she will act. James shows us that neither the shame of illegitimacy nor the devotions belonging to a saint, will bring a woman freedom. Both are just as oppressive. Pansy grows up in ignorance, afraid to even lift a hair to question her father. As Pansy becomes a woman and exhibits a feeble will of her own in her attachment to Mr. Rosier, her father banishes her immediately to a convent. Thus, because of Osmond, we see that sexual awakening is vanquished by the seclusion in a convent. Osmond's actions show men's treatment of women: she is seen as "angel or madwoman"--never a mix of the two, if she was to be accepted. Hence Osmond, though drawn to Serena, rejects her. He tries to "angel-fy" Isabel but when she resists, he abuses her. Only Pansy, ever dependent on him, succumbs fully to his wishes. Pansy is manipulated, just as Isabel is manipulated, but Isabel shows that she is different from Pansy by taking action against her husband. Though we do not know what has become of her in the end, it does her credit, since she can "manipulate" our imaginations into thinking has a chance for a better life.

Isabel's "fate" is set in motion by the actions of her cousin Ralph. Ralph is like God, or the equivalent, providing Isabel with a fortune to dispense with however she chose. One step could lift or ruin her, and poor Isabel makes the wrong choice. Ralph does it out of kindness to Isabel, but he is also interested in spectacle. He wants to see how she fares. As his life is limited, he wants to experience life, in a way, though Isabel. Though he does not confine Isabel in the way Osmond does Pansy, Ralph also gives her something that ruins her. We can only wonder what would have become of Isabel if she never had a fortune. Osmond would never have married her, and she would have sought a less wealthier destiny. Is Ralph to be blamed for giving a fortune to Isabel? Yes, because he wished to view her as an object, and No, because it was also an act of kindness, a chance for freedom for Isabel. However, through Ralph's action, Isabel learns an important lesson in seeing "more than what meets the eye", in questioning her faith in people. She falls from grace, but learns that "if she was hated, she was also loved."

It was over ten years ago since I first saw the film, but I was able to appreciate it more on my second viewing, just recently. The 1996 adaptations did credit to James' work, especially with Jane Campion's mastery of imagery, symbolism, and art direction. There were several notable performances, John Malkovich's Osmond, amongst others.

Though I haven't converted to a James fan, I think he is worth a second look.

A Sign of the Times...

2007-06-29T14:23:00.000-04:00

So the Spice Girls have confirmed their reunion.! I was stunned as I watched the news on TV.

I can't think of the Spice Girls without thinking of my past, growing up in the '90s. They were iconic figures during my most formative years. I remember waiting in the stores to buy their CDs, trying to memorize the lyrics to their songs, and figuring out what 'Spice Girl' I was ( I think I was a hybrid, though quizzes don't give that option ;)) The Spice Girls seemed a normal part of life, amidst the family dramas, school exams, sports practices, vacations, and social events.

With the best of the Spice Girls coming to an end after their split, it seemed like an era was past for me as well. Then followed important transitions in my life, more 'growing up' and so forth.

But with their impending reunion, and that picture in particular, it seems as if it was but yesterday that they came out with their first album. Though all except Mel C now have children, or are expecting, it isn't visible in this picture. They all look as trim and young as they were. Of course, fashions have changed, but the Spice Girls weren't ones to fuss about that ;)

I hope their reunion turns out to be as refreshing as the memories it kindles.

*Pictures courtesy: Philly.com

Scandalous Virtue in Elizabeth Gaskell's Wives and Daughters

2007-06-26T13:40:00.000-04:00

"But sometimes one likes foolish people for their folly, better than wise people for their wisdom."--Elizabeth Gaskell, Wives and Daughters (1865)

Elizabeth Gaskell's last novel was a delight to read, and I am only sorry that she never lived to finish it. Although the ending seems clear, I would still have wished to drink more of Mrs. Gaskell's prose, until the very last drop. The writing, thought not dense, had enough wit to hold the reader's interest. The plot, like the writing, can seem unremarkable on the surface. But a closer look beneath the surface is all that's needed to see contradictions.

The novel is, essentially, a story of relationships, and this is what makes it timeless. We can all relate to feelings of filial affection, parental intrusion, neighbors' reproofs, and sibling rivalry. While Molly appears to be a docile, sheltered girl, we know that this isn't really case. She has lost her mother, a traumatic experience for any child, although how much it has affected her isn't clear until much later. Her father, Mr. Gibson, marries another woman when Molly is seventeen and just on the cusp of adulthood. When the new Mrs. Gibson and her daughter arrive, that is when Molly's (seemingly) idyllic life is about to be turned upside down. Molly learns the nuances of social conduct. She learns to balance her own moral integrity with the social restraint that is required. She also forms new relationships with the Cumnors and the Hamleys, and her behavior brings her just rewards.

In the DVD's commentary, one of the crew members remarked something to the effect of: "Molly is like the sun, with everything else fanning out from her". I wondered how much of this was true. I think it is true that Gaskell meant for Molly to be the heroine. But what I find more interesting are the peripheral characters. They are more complicated, well drawn characters than Molly. In fact, without them, Molly's character would lose much of the luster that she is credited for.

As Mr. Gibson says in the opening lines quoted in this post, I think it is the "foolish people" in this story who steal the show. There's Osborne, who trangresses beyond all the bounds expected of him, and whose actions accelerate his doom. When Osborne marries a girl far beneath him, and fails in his examinations, he questions his worth in the eyes of his proud father. Even when his mother, Mrs. Hamley, lies on her deathbed, Osborne still fails to confess to her. His relationship with his father deteriorates as his marital relationship bears fruit. As Osborne worsens, his wife gives birth to their son, and the child blossoms in health and vigor. Already there is a sense that the old order is breaking down. The Hamleys' station in the social ladder, as Squire Hamley knows it, will no longer be the same. The aristocracy will be replaced by a new class, and in fact, one that includes foreigners, as Aimee comes to live at Hamley Hall. The 'old order' also includes old ways of social behavior, and virtue. It is implied that it is no longer a world full of innocence, but is rather one ripe with dangers--the dangers of change. Osborne's world of poetry is now being replaced by one of science: the days of chivalry and arthurian Romance will give way to enlightenment's Rationality.

Osborne's female equivalent is Cynthia. Cynthia's place in the moral spectrum is even more ambigous than Osborne's. She is, nevertheless, very interesting, and we are meant to like and sympthize with her, like Molly, the heroine we are rooting for. Cynthia is, by all appearances, a coquette, but she isn't a simpleton. Throughout the novel, Molly and Mr. Gibson praise her for her wit. She is kind to Molly and Mr Gibson is fond of her. She is vivacious and lively. Furthermore, she listens with enthusiasm. She is not immune to vanity, however, and that does threaten to ruin her. We find ourselves interested in her "imbroglio", just as much as we find ourselves immersed in Osborne's.

Though raised, like Molly, by a single-parent, Cynthia has had a less sheltered life, which speaks to the status of women in nineteenth-century. Unlike Mr. Gibson who can practice medicine and protect his daughter, Cynthia's mother, Hyacinth, could not do any such thing. The only respectable path open to her was to work as a governess, which meant she had to leave her daughter behind in a school. As Margaret Forster has shown in 'Lady's Maid', it must be very difficult for a woman to secure employment if she had a child of her own. Unsupervised, Cynthia has only herself to turn to for moral guidance. Her mother, occupied with earning her keep, and open to flattery and admiration herself, cannot provide that guidance to Cynthia. So Cynthia falls prey to others' good opinion of her: she craves attention constantly, although she cannot "love deeply " as much as Molly.

Cynthia attracts attention simply by being young, beautiful, and interesting. Young men fall for her more for her beauty than for her wit. They imagine Cynthia as the paragon of womanhood, instead of seeing her for who she is. This masculine definition of her is precisely what she must escape from, but in the absence of a network of women to teach her manners, as Molly has, she becomes a victim. Cynthia is a creation of male fantasies: she is everything men want, and yet, they cannot have her faulty. They elevate her, even when she is fickle, they refute her, even when she says the truth. And as men flock to her, she is blamed for attracting them. Mr. Preston gets aggressive about his demands, even though she keeps refusing him. And Mr. Gibson is unsympathetic to her at one point. While it is easier to forgive Osborne for his scandalous marriage, it is harder to forgive a girl for entangling herself in scandal. This just shows how women can be pliant: Aimee is "sweet and submissive" and so easily controlled, while it is harder to believe that a woman could control a man (e.g. if Cynthia or Molly could control Mr. Preston's apparent vulgarity). Although Cynthia does not love Roger very much, he still pursues her, believing in the image of her instead of the reality. In the end, it is by acknowlegding her fickleness to Mr. Henderson that she gains a partner who now accepts her for who she is. Having learned her mistakes, she vows that she will "place her own happiness before anyone else" in choosing a husband.

If scandal has virtue, we see it in Molly's coming-of-age. Though at the start Molly is inexperienced to matters of sexuality, she changes towards the end. Though docile and proper, and in some ways invisible compared to Cynthia, it is Molly who holds the two biggest secrets at the heart of the novel. She is faithful to her promises of secrecy, and we wonder what would have happened if she acted differently: if she had confessed to Squire Hamley, would Osborne still be alive? If she has confessed her love for Roger, would he still have fancied Cynthia for two years? If she has told her father the truth about Cynthia, would Mr. Gibson have doubted her?

It is important that these secrets pass through Molly because they are necessary for her growing up, for her own "awakening". By knowing Osborne's past, she is aware of a passion that trancends filial duty. Early on, Molly was compared to a little French girl, and this echoes later in the novel, when Molly contact Osborne's French wife, and the two grow close.

Through Cynthia's actions, Molly sees the sincerity and falshood in romantic attachments. She also becomes aware of her love for Roger. She sees that her love for him is constant. His love for Cynthia is steady while Cynthia's wavers. Molly also has a chance to act bravely on behalf of another, to take actions into her own hands, when she helps Cynthia to stave off Mr. Preston. At the same time, she learns that Mr. Preston is not wholly bad. Being in company with Cynthia throws Molly into Mr. Preston's way, which symbolically throws her in the way of sexual awakening.

Finally, it is important to note that towards the end, Molly behaves very much like Cynthia. She is sophisticated, witty, and plays hard-to-get, albeit unintentionally. Molly's earnestly talking to another suitor makes Roger jealous, prompting him to pursue her. The more she resists him, the more he is drawn to her. When Molly falls ill, Roger pays attention to her, in very much the same way he paid attention to Cynthia when she was in low spirits. As Molly grows up in the midst of scandal, and as matters are resolved for the other characters, the novel shows that scandal holds a virtue--a different virtue than one defined by conventional (masculine) terms.

*Pictures credit: Masterpiece Theater

The Lawyer and the Leech

2007-06-14T14:27:00.001-04:00

Among the many themes coursing through Dickens' Bleak House and Hawthorne's The Scarlet Letter, the theme of the forbidden love affair takes center stage in both novels.

The Scarlet Letter opens with Hester Prynne, holding an infant at her bosom, standing on a pedestal before the villagers and magistrates who question her regarding the father of her illegitimate child. She refuses to answer such a question and goes on to live a secluded life with her baby girl, Pearl, so that she may pay penance for her 'sin'. However, despite removing herself from the public eye, she is never free from scrutiny, especially from the watchful eyes of her ruthless husband, Roger Chillingworth. The person who shares her 'crime' of adultery is also never far away, and ridden with guilt and remorse, his secret slowly consumes him.

The instigator of wounds in Arthur Dimmesdale, the Puritan preacher who struggles with his love for Hester and his duty towards his faith and community, is Hester's lawful husband, Roger Chillingworth, who claims that he is a physician familiar with herbal remedies. Instead of curing the preacher, who complains of heart troubles, he sets out to do the opposite. As he is aware of his wife's secret, he leaks the information to the preacher by and by in a subtle manner, so that the preacher, naive and unsuspecting, begins to trust his physician and blame himself for his weakness. Eventually, the physician has so much control over his patient that, like a parasite, he gnaws at his flesh and his soul, bringing the pastor to his tragic end.

In Bleak House, Lady Dedlock, who has bottled up a similar secret of her own for many years, finds herself threatened with the risk of exposure, when she recognizes a letter written in the hand of the man she once loved, and then catches a glimpse of their child, whose existence was previously withheld from her.

Here it is the lawyer Tulkinghorn who functions as the leech. Insisting that his only concern is to protect his client, Sir Leicester Dedlock, Lady Dedlock's husband, he makes it knows to the Lady that he will stick to his word at "whatever the cost maybe to others." Once he puts the pieces of the puzzle together, he taunts Lady Dedlock psychologically and emotionally, which wrecks deeper havoc than anything physical would have done.

Though Lady Dedlock, outwardly, wears the icy reserve she has trained herself to wear for so long, inside she is full of turmoil. Only when we see my Lady in her private chambers do we realize the extent of the pain she carries within her. In the innermost corners of the house she finds a private space enough to betray a little of the emotions she keeps at bay. There she is kind to Rosa, her maid, bestowing a motherly tenderness towards that young girl. And when she is finally left to retire for the night, she is driven frantic with worry, her hair and clothes left in disarray.

But Tulkinghorn is the only other person who is a match for her. He watches her every move and sees the flutter of panic in her eyes that would be undiscernible to anyone else, even her husband. Just as she behaves calm and collected on the outside, Tulkinghorn acts as if her secret matters little to him while becoming just as obsessed with it himself. It affords him an opportunity to manipulate her according to his whims, so that she will be supple under his commands.

Both Tulkinghorn and Chillingorth are driven by a ruthless greed for power. They thrive from controlling their victims, from overpowering them, and seeing them destroyed. They are persons who dismiss the idea of personal freedom and human choice. They are self-intersted individuals, the most perverted of villains, who employ weapons of such emotional magnitude.

While Chillingworth is driven to do so primarily out of a need for revenge, Tulkinghorn's motives are not so clear. Though Chillingworth does not want Hester anymore and believes she is punished enough, he still resents her for protecting the identity of her lover so fiercely. Thus, he sets to give just deserts to Dimmesdale so that Hester will never be able to unite with him. Tulkinghorn, on the other hand, has no interests in Lady Dedlock, other than the fact that she is the wife of a powerful aristocrat, who happens to be his client. He is well aware that Sir Leicester adores his wife. I believe that Tulkinghorn resents Lady Dedlock for her power. She is "not of a great family," but has managed to marry well and carry out her duties as a Lady befitting her new station. She instills both fear and respect in other people. She is admired by high Society for her beauty and her conduct. She can dismiss her irate maid Hortense and just as soon welcome another maid, Rosa, who admires her for her kindness, all at her will. Nothing angers Tulkinghorn more than knowing that Lady Dedlock has worked so hard to mask the enormity of her past. And so, he vows to destroy her, admitting that "the power and force of this woman are astonishing!"(Chapter 41).

Though both Chillingworth and Tulkinghorn are bent on destroying their victims' reputations, Chillingworth succeeds in calling Religion into question, while Tulkinghorn's deeds are focused on the boundaries of a woman's power. Between Tulkinghorn and Lady Dedlock lies a battle of the sexes: when the Lady tries to break free fron the chains that bind her, the male, a lawyer, representing the confines of 19th century Society, is determined to bring her down. Unlike Hester Prynne, who shuns the public and meekly pays penance for her sins, Lady Dedlock is at the center of high society, and tries to bravely retain her power and her dignity until the very end. It is important to note that despite differences in their conducts, there are visceral ties that bind the two women: their daughters, born out of the same sin, are a living testament to their mothers' spirits, courage, intelligence, and endurance.

The Fate of Lady's Maids

2007-05-31T09:41:00.000-04:00

I've spent the past two weeks with the Brownings while reading Margaret Foster's Lady's Maid and now that I've finished the book, I feel the pangs of withdrawal. I keep waiting to traverse the rooms of Case Guidi, or learn of Mrs. Browning's disposition, or see Pen's frolics, and then it takes a while before I register that it is "all over."

Though I flipped the last page of this book only this morning, I still feel like there is more I'll come home to. The book was long, but I never found it tedious, which surprises me. It was an easy read, and nothing too convoluted or dense like other novels in the same genre that I've read recently. Forster centers the story around Lily Wilson, Mrs. Browning's maid, and so most of the story is told from her perspective. Not being an inquiring sort, or an intellectual, Lily Wilson's life revolves around caring for her own family and her mistress. Thus, the book chiefly, and rightly, deals with the concerns of a servant: we are given insight into the Barrett household, Mrs. Browning's illness and medications, the landscape of different places in England and Italy, and the carnal desires that drive all people, both the learned and the uneducated. In many ways this novel is a study of the 19th century, with a focus on class, especially with regard to that of the working poor.

The novel pays little attention to Mrs. Browning's poetry, or her role as an artist of her time. All we are told is that she is famous, and it ends there. Mrs. Browning also does not discuss her poems with Wilson, and I suppose this is expected as the latter was quite a simpleton compared to the former. But was this so? The novel does not offer easy answers. Lily Wilson, though uneducated, feels a lot more than she is given credit for. She is attuned to the suffering of others, especially that of her mistress, whom she adores. She is not immune to needing companionship and makes a few lasting friendships. She does have maternal feelings and does what is best, in her eyes, for her children. But above all else, she is loyal, and never wavers in her loyalty, even when she is no longer hired by the Brownings.

The fate of Lily speaks to the fate of all women of her class: where does the lady's maid stand in the social ladder? How intimate are her relationship with her employers? How can she continue to be loyal at the price of her family's suffering? Who is to provide for her if she became ill, and more importantly, if she had children?

All these questions point to the "woman question" that was vital to 19th century discourse: What are women to do when they have lost all? How could a single woman surivive if she is barred from advancing professionally like her male counterparts? To what extents would women be driven to stay out of the workhouse and what impact does this have on the rest of the society, let alone the women themselves?

Hortense, Lady Dedlocks's maid in Bleak House, is publicly dimissed by her mistress and struggles to find another suitable position. Unlike Rosa, her submissive rival maid, Hortense is aggressive and unabashed. She is loquacious about her position in life, stressing that she would have no where to go if she were unemployed. This aggression of hers, motivated by the depravity of her situation, does not win her any friends, unfortunately. Everyone rejects her, including Lady Dedlock, who hides behind the veil of her iciness. When Hortense' faith in Mr. Tulkinghorn fails, she takes matters into her own hands. While patience and righteousness might have saved her, or at least prolonged her life, her drastic action, committed out of despair, speeds her downfall.

But I ask: Is the judgement on Hortense fair?

Can a woman, who has lost her employment and is denied help, who is on the verge of entering the poorhouse, only to possibly starve or be exploited there, be expected to make sane decisions? Would it have been far better for Hortense to die than for Tulkinghorn, whose evil deeds wreck havoc on the lives of many more innocent people?

And more importantly, while we cannot esteem Hortense' temper, can we do the opposite for mute submission? Does Lily Wilson's endless sacrifice to her mistress trump over Hortense's efforts to escape poverty?

Who is the better woman?

The Persistence of Memories

2007-05-22T09:12:00.000-04:00

In a mini-reading excursion I undertook on my own, I read Kim Edwards' The Memory Keeper's Daughter, and Susan Minot's Evening. Both books deal with the role of memories and how they continue to exert their effects long after the events have taken place. I compared these two novels to Penelope Lively's The Photograph, which I had read not too long ago.

In Evening, 65 year-old Ann Lord, the protagonist, is dying of cancer, and in her deathbed, remembers events that happened over forty years ago. That summer weekend long ago, Ann had traveled to Maine to attend her friend Lila's wedding. That meeting was pivotal in her life, for it was there that she met her true love, a man she loved and lost. Realizing the futility of their relationship, Ann later marries three different men and bears five children. But none of them knows the story of their mother: the passion she harbored, the guilt she has bottled, and her courage in striving to lead a happier life for her children's sake.

As Ann starts hallucinating, she recalls vividly the summer of her youth, and it is at this point that her children begin to understand her. As she lay dying, it is Harris' face that she remembers the most, it is the memory of their time together, however brief, that she clings to. However, in learning to deal with her imminent death, she must learn to see her relationship with Harris as more than what she romanticized it to be. She must see the effects of that relationship: the tragedy that befell the Wintennborn that mirrors her inner turmoil, her misjudgement of love, her hard, practical exterior which masked her inner, more sensitive nature that she concealed. As a result, her children were deprived of knowing their mother for the woman she used to be, which increased the distance between all of them.

In Evening, Susan Minot shows that in the last days of a woman's life, what matters most to her are the few moments of bliss that she tasted in her youth. These memories comfort her towards the end of her life, and paradoxically, help her to 'live' at the same time. Ann does not die grieving, but instead, lives her past, a past she has blotted out of her memories while saddled with responsibilities that come from being a wife and mother. Only by re-living her past, and by coming to terms with its effects, could she finally lay herself to rest: only in living could she die.

In contrast to Evening, The Memory Keeper's Daughter, shows that it is not possible to blot out memories of our past, even for an instant, because the past follows us wherever we go. While Ann Lord manges to blot out her memories until the end of her life, the Henrys face dire consequence throughout Memory Keeper, as a result of a single act committed by David Henry.

In Memory Keeper, David Henry is consistantly haunted by his past and never escapes it: his experiences of living in poverty and watching his sister die tragically propels him to try and fix everyone's problem. He becomes a doctor so that she can cure people of disease. But more importantly, he is concerned with eliminating pain and heartache: he could not endure his loved ones facing pain the way he did when he was growing up.

Thus, when his wife gives birth to twins, he sends away his disabled baby daughter, who is born with Down's syndrome, and orders his nurse to put her in a home. He tells his wife later, as she regains consciousness after her birth, that one of their twins has died. When his wife Norah, stricken with grief, plans a memorial services to bring some kind of closure, David Henry retaliates: in a strained manner, he reproaches his wife for having a memorial service so soon, while his wife accuses him of not feeling enough pain for the loss of their daughter. And so begins their path of misunderstanding, that will eventually lead to the family's downfall. Norah, unable to understand her husband's secrecy and emotional distace, copes in her own way by succumbing to different affairs with other men to find relief. David, ever guilty, permits her to do so, even though he is hurt in the process. And their son Paul, the living twin, is also eager to learn more about his father, and feels the void in the family as he watches his parents drift apart.

Norah remembers her daughter at every instant and she at first cannot see Paul without pain, although she learns to support him for what he wants to do, that is become a musician. David expects more from Paul because he feels guilty for giving up his daughter and robbing her of opportunities that his son, born more perfect than his daughter, is given. And while the Henry family breaks down, Pheobe, the discarded daughter, thrives with her surrogate mother, the nurse Carolyn Gill. Though disabled, she learns to surivive on her own, by getting a good education and then a job, all with the help of Carolyn, who fights for Pheobe's rights to a better life.

David's memories of his childhood, watching his sickly sister June die of a heart condition, haunts him all his life, as do his actions of the day that his twins were born. Phoebe is like a physical representation of memory: as the Henry family cannot let go of its memories, Phoebe continues to exist. She shows that memory will live and flourish, and haunt. Her existence causes both pain and joy, just as memories do, as Ann Lord would find at the end of her life. Knowing that Pheobe is doing well does make her father David Henry proud, but the same time, grossly ashamed for what he has done to give her up and conceal that from his wife.

Kim Edward shows us that memory cannot be defined and it will surprise us. Phoebe trancends classification: she has Down' syndrome, but she is also more self-sufficient that what one would expect of her. She does have feelings like a normal person, and more importantly she has enormous capacity for forgiveness and love. She bridges the gap between the two families: she shows Norah that David isn't the epitome of evil when he gave her away, and she shows Paul that there are things he must understand about his father. By leading her life as brightly as she could every day, Phoebe shows everyone that you cannot take life for granted: it is precious, though conflicted. You have to take it day by day, with both its joys and pains, while cherishing it for what it is.

Similar themes are evoked in Lively's The Photograph. Once again, memory re-enters people's lives and changes it in a manner they did not expect. Here, a single photograph is shown to create chaos in the lives of many people. At the same time, we see that the photograph can bring them together. The photograph, in essence, is the representation for memory, just as Phoebe is in Memory Keeper.

In this book, Lively shows the persistence of memory by weaving this story around the absent Kath. From the opening pages, Kath is always there in the lives of everyone who knew her, though we, the readers, never see her. Unlike Phoebe, who is alive, Kath is dead. While Edwards is of the belief that memory will always exist, and take a physical form, even if it is damaged, Lively believes that memory does not need merely a physical form to represent it: it can exist in a metaphysical manner. Even if the matter of the photograph was never brought up, Kath would still continue to fill the minds of all who knew her. Thus, in The Photograph, memory is shown to be even more abstract, but also very tangible, by its abstractness. Memories of Kath fill others' minds in such a vivid manner that it seems like Kath is alive in the flesh; we sense her just as we sense anything else. It almost feels to the reader as if Kath is not dead after all. Lively creates this effect by the title of her chapters: we find chapters with titles of Glyn and Elaine just as we find chapters with Kath and Elaine.

Just as the birth of the twins catalyses the events to follow in Memory Keeper, Glyn's finding the photograph of his wife catalyses the events in this book. The photograph is crucial for Elaine to understand her sister, just as it is important for David Henry, through his journey in the book, to understand his love for his sister and his parents. The photograph leads Elaine to seek Mary Packard, Kath's friend, and to learn another side of Kath that she kept hidden from the rest of the world. It is in understanding Kath for who she was, instead of re-living the memories of who she was perceived to be, that Elaine finally comes to terms with Kath as a person. Kath is given form, to the rest of the characters who aren't given the same insight as us, the readers, when she is perceived as someone real: when she is seen as someone who has known both joy and sorrow.

Like in Evening, The Photograph shows us that memories are strongly tied around death. All three novels force us to question what makes death such a powerful motive for making us confront our deepest desires and our darkest secrets. While death, either our own, or a loved one's, makes us re-live our past through our memories, such a second 'living' is different for each of us: it can either be transient, or it can have lasting effects. While Ann Lord dies after the powerful surge of her memories, Phoebe lives on, and Elaine mends her relationship with her sister and her family.

Do memories cause death or are they an effect? Are memories the means to escape death, or do they allow us to embrace it, unafraid, unprejudiced, and willing?

Lady Dedlock's Trap

2007-05-14T23:47:00.000-04:00

And I've been caught. I am very intrigued by Lady Dedlock and she continues to haunt Bleak House. As for this fabulous production, I can't commend it enough. Suffice it to say, I think I've endured enough sores and pins and needles while attempting to sit still and watch a series that has more than six hours of viewing time.

2007-05-12T20:25:00.000-04:00

I am afraid my ramblings on The Thirteenth Tale will be be withheld momentarily until I find enough time to devote to discussing it.

The days have been very full lately. This semester I had signed up to take two classes and I just finished the coursework for one class. But once I turned in my portfolio for that class, I told myself that I should take a little break before I start on the research paper for the other class. This assignment needs to be 25 pages long and I've finally decided to write it on Kate Chopin's The Awakening. The novel is quite a treasure, really, and provides much food for thought. Edna Pontellier's 'awakening' speaks volumes about the experiences of women in parts of the world in the present day. No wonder the novel is a staple for Women's Studies courses.

I have to spend the next few weeks working on this project and I expect to complete it in June. I can't wait to relax a little this summer.

Child of Rage

2007-04-30T14:39:00.000-04:00

Diane Setterfield's debut novel The Thirteenth Tale is a study of the female experience, especially with regard to childhood. She explores the concept of childhood and transition through the prism of twin-ship.

In The Thirteenth Tale, Margaret Lea, an amateur biographer, is invited to write a biography of the famous writer Vida Winters. Through the course of her stay at Ms. Winters' residence, Margart learns the power of Ms. Winters' story-telling, and to distinguish between fact and fiction. Most importantly, she learns to read between the lines, to pay just as much attention to a subplot, as the story being narrated. As Vida and Margaret embark on a journey together, secrets about their pasts are revealed, secrets that connect the two women. Both women come to terms with the ghosts that haunt them, and learn what it is to suffer, cherish, and endure.

As the title of this post suggests, the novel makes references to children, and how they are dealt with in other works of literature. The two most important books alluded to are Brontë's Jane Eyre, and James' The Turn of the Screw. Wuthering Heights also assumes a degree of importance. These novels are seamlessly embedded throught Setterfield's mastery of intertextuality.

The Angelfield family's isolation and lack of parental figures is reminiscent of the Earnshaws in Wuthering Heights and the inhabitants of Bly in James' novel. While the two children, Isabelle and Charlie engage in a disturbing relationship, Miles and Flora's behavior toward each other also raises similar questions. Setterfield's Hester Burrow is the counterpart to the governess in James' story. Both Hester and James' governess view ghosts. Hester, like the governess, is eager to solve the mystery of the children's behavior. Like the governess, she becomes increasingly sexually aware. We learn that Hester and the married doctor, who is a guardian figure for the twins, entertain a scandalous relationship. Children are used as a vehicle to project adult relationships. Setterfield's twins, Adeline and Emmeline, have already had a tainted birth, and now help to bring Hester and the doctor together. Similarly, Miles and Flora are responsible for the governess' awakening sense of sexuality, as shown through Quint and Miss Jessel's relationship. Both novels question the children's innocence: can children be 'tainted'? Can children feel just as adults feel? Are children capable of doing harm? Are children sexually aware?

Tale is similar to Wuthering Heights in its exploration of brother-sister relationships. Furthermore, there are vivid discriptions of violence, much like that found in Wuthering Heights. Just as Catherine and Heathcliff have a relationship that could potentially be called incestous, Isabelle and Charlie's relationship is anything but virtuous. Adeline and Emmeline's relationship is akin to that of soulmates, thus resembling Catherine and Heathcliff's. Hindley's ability to inflict pain is similar to Charlie's. Linton is an absent, but doting father, just as George is to Isabelle. While the Heights has Nelly and Joseph for servants, Angelfield has the Missus and John as its caretakers. The most important point that links Tales to Wuthering Heights is the foundling-child: Heathcliff, when Mr. Earnshaw finds him, is initially dirty and malnourished. Ms. Winter, like Heathcliff, is an orphan and in a similar state when the servants find her, and is brought up in Angelfield as if she was one of the family, while all the time aware of the fact that she will always be an outsider, a charity's child.

Setterfield's novel is densely filled with references to Jane Eyre. Angelfield shares a suffix with Thornfield. The secret is revealed through its connection to Jane Eyre. Just as Jane is an outsider, Ms. Winter represents the rejected relative. Both Jane and Ms. Winter are fond of reading and often steal to the library with caution. Jane is close to Bessy just as Ms. Winter is close to the Missus. The Missus and John have a platonic relationship while Bessy and her John marry while at Gateshead. Aurelius inherits his true 'family' just as Jane finds hers at the end. Both Angelfield and Thornfield burn down, as a result of the "other" women, women who show a split in identity.

This split of identity is shown by the existance of the twins: Adeline and Emmilne are shown to be polar opposites. Emmilines overflows with kindness while Adeline is filled with rage. Adeline is possessive while Emmeline is passive. Emmeline is naive, and albeit, rather dimwitted, while Adeline is more manipulative. In Brontë's novel, Bertha is akin to Adeline and Emmeline, in some sense, is akin to Jane. Emmeline is innocense while Adeline is passion, and its extreme, violence. Tales suggests that these two disparate natures can in fact be united. More imporantly, that they are two parts of a coin, yin and yang; that one will not surivive without the other, just as the twins pine for each other when they are seperated. There is an intangible cord of sympathy that connects Adeline and Emmline just as there is a 'cord of communion' that links Jane and Bertha. It is Adeline's possessiveness of her sister that brings her to destroy the "innocent", the baby, just like it is Bertha's possessiveness that tempts her to destory Jane, and later, Thornfield.

By offering us Ms. Winter, Setterfield suggests that the extremes of the likes of Adeline and Emmeline, Jane and Bertha, can in fact coexist within a single individual. But at the same time, Setterfield also points us that this third person, who outwardly resembles the twins, is merely a ghost. Like a ghost she can exert her influence but also disappear at ease. But I wonder what implications this can have in terms of freedom. While it allows Ms. Winter to gain access to worlds that she would otherwise have been shunned from, she is also not noticed, and has to live in stealth. Her freedom, while immense, is also fragile.

2007-04-30T14:30:00.000-04:00

The last few weeks, or months rather, were filled with a flurry of activities. I had had to make important decisions regarding my job and graduate school. Trying to complete the coursework for two classes only made me more frazzled. Campus visits and extension requests aside, I spent the better part of this past weekend attempting to relax and catch up on things I used to enjoy. I watched The Namesake on Saturday and spent all of Sunday (unsual for me!) curled up on the couch, reading Diane Setterfield's The Thirteenth Tale. Intrigued by this story, I couldn't resist putting my thoughts into words and this will be the subject of my next post.

The Temptations of the Imagination: A Review of Katherine Paterson's Bridge to Terabithia

2007-03-20T21:44:00.000-04:00

Katherine Pateron's book Bridge to Terabithia is one that speaks to both adults and children alike. It's a story of the bonds of friendship, family ties, courage, and most importantly, the power of the Imagination. Having seen the newly released film, I realize that the story contains a message that strikes the core of the human conscious: we all search for that elusive "other", who is often refered to as best friend, or most likely, soulmate. Jesse and Leslie not only share a beautiful friendship, but they also share feelings that arise from being "different". Their friendship also remains platonic and I believe that it's this very nature of their frienship that elevates this story from being just another teen boy-meets-girl tale. By abandoning their more adult (sexual) desires, and remaining as children, Leslie and Jesse are able to indulge in their imaginations, and in the process find freedom, courage, and a love that transcends the earthly.

The story revolves around two fifth-grade children: Jesse Aarons and Leslie Burke. Leslie and Jesse's friendship forms when Leslie beats Jesse (the then 'fastest boy in fifth-grade') in a school race. Jesse, though mortified at first, later learns that Leslie is far from a Miss Goody Two-Shoes. She is different from the other girls in school and gets just as many insults from the school bullies for dressing differently (in punk/hippie items), not having a television at home, and living with eccentric parents who are both authors. Jesse's interest in Leslie grows when he hears her read an essay she coined for a class assignment. Her desciption of scuba-diving totally wins Jesse, who is himself a talented artist, prone to sketching magical creatures in his sketchbook, much to the chagrin of his father, who would much rather his son didn't have his 'head in the clouds'. Though both Jesse and Leslie are ignored by their parents, Leslie has a closer bond with her father while the only person in his family who seems to value him is his six year-old little sister May Bell. One day, Leslie and Jesse cross over a little stream (with the help of a rope attached to a tree) and find a forest that Leslie names 'Terabithia'. Together, Jesse and Leslie imagine ruling this Kingdom as King and Queen, respectively, strengthening their fort (a tree house), and warding off their enemies, which include large squirrels, trolls, and giants. Then, a tragic event happens, which tests Jesse's faith in Leslie, their friendship, and teaches him about overcoming his fears and making a difference.

Terabithia represents the Imagination. Paterson's choice of title makes a reference to C.S. Lewis' The Chronicles of Narnia , in which Terabinthia is a land in the vicinity of Narnia. It is important to note that Terabithia exists when the children are in the land that lies beyond the stream. The children have to cross over to that land in order to construct their magical kingdom. In the land of their every day lives, Terabithia does not exist. Even Leslie, in a house with writers for parents, needs to escape to her own world, away from that of her parents, and she needs an accomplice, a friend who will share her visions and allow them to flourish. Whereas both children were lonely in their respective homes, they are no longer the same in Terabithia, for they have each other and their Imaginations to keep them company there. In this sense, the book suggests that one needs a space that would allow one freedom to imagine, in the vein of Virginia Woolf's argument in A Room of One's Own.

The children's friendship blossoms when the two worlds, the World of the Imagination, and Real World, are split. Jesse and Leslie cannot discuss Terabithia in their real worlds. But the book asks the question whether this must always be the case. Can the two worlds coexist, or are they exclusive? Can we build a bridge between the two worlds or are they very distant from each other?

It seems that Paterson is ambigous about answering this question: while it is possible to build a bridge, and Jesse contrives to do that at the end, we also see that the 'bridgeing' comes at a tragic cost. In some sense, Paterson suggests that building a bridge between the Real and the Fantastic, is a task worthy of immense sacrifice. It is the result of a fall from innocence to experience, except that while "They (Adam and Eve) hand in hand with wandring steps and slow,/Through Eden took thir solitarie way," Jesse enters the "New World" without Leslie. However, as he bridges the two worlds, he has his sister's hand to hold onto for support, and so we learn the importance of family. Just as Leslie had taught him to have his 'mind open wide', he applies that and teaches May Bell to do that same.

As humans, we strive to bridge the two worlds. Leslie succumbs to the Imagination more than Jesse. The Imagination, like a temptress, encroaches upon the Rational side of her. She can no longer keep the two aspects of her life (one as a girl in the Real World, and the other as ruler of Terabithia) seperate, and so she attempts to bridge the two first. Thus, Leslie is the first to cross that stream on that fatal day, even though the torrential rain had caused flooding and had probably weakened the rope. She was too eager to escape into her fantasy world, risking her own life in the process. In the absence of a bridge, a safe way of crossing over to the other place, Leslie makes a leap that triggers the events that follow.

Another important detail consists in the fact that on that fateful day, Jesse is out of the country. He is out of the world that foster's his literary imagination. He is out of the dirt and grime of his simple country shack, and the woods of Terabithia. When he embarks on that trip with his teacher, he enters the modern city: he enters Modernity, the World of Rationality. Here, instead of him doing the drawing, he views the exhibits of art by dead painters. Thus, in the modern world, Art is displayed instead of created. The book suggests that while in the city, like the other artists, Jesse the artist, is also dead. He is no longer the one who does the creating, as he did while in Terabithia. In a sense, when Jesse metaphorically dies in the city, Leslie literally interprets this act in the country. As soulmates, Jesse and Leslie need each other to be alive, for their imaginations to soar. Without the other, each feels betrayed, changes, and cannot cope. Incidentally, this idea is also central to love theme in Wuthering Heights.

I could elaborate further about this story, but it would suffice to end this post on this note: Bridge to Terabithia is beyond wonderful. In fact, Wonderful is an understatement. It is one of the best stories I have ever read. With its rich symbolisim, as well as inherant simplicity, Bridge speaks to not only the child, but rather, the human, in all of us. Like the moonbeams Leslie captures in her purse, Katherine Paterson's tale has faithfully captured the essence of what it means to live, love, and endure.

Visual DNA

2007-03-18T14:06:00.000-04:00

Read my VisualDNA™ Get your own VisualDNA™

I found this in another blog and tried it myself. I invite all my readers to try it too! :)

Jane Austen - why the fuss?

2007-03-09T13:29:00.000-05:00

This interesting article about Jane Austen is worth a read! It contextualizes the discourse in Women's Literature.

Here's an excerpt that mentions the Brontë sisters:

"It's all too graceful and lacks guts, says writer Zoe Williams, who prefers those other 19th Century romantic writers - the Brontë sisters."

The Scarlet Letter and the Elf-Child

2007-03-05T22:40:00.001-05:00

As one of the most fascinating characters I've ever come across in Literature, Pearl stands as a symbol of great Art, both through Hawthorne's characterization of her, and her actions through the course of the novel.

We are introduced to Pearl at the very beginning and it could be argued that if it wasn't for her, the novel The Scarlet Letter would not exist. The novel opens with a community of puritans surrounding a scaffold on which stands a young woman, Hester Prynne, Pearl's mother, holding her infant. Hester had been convicted of adultery and had just borne a bastard child. Indeed, Pearl enters the world aware of the scarlet letter A attached to her mother's bosom. When the magistrates of the town demand that she reveal the father of the child so that he too can share the burden, Hester does not comply, but accedes to face the humiliation alone. Later, after her hour of ignominy, Hester takes residence at an isolated cottage, away from the rest of the village, striving to earn a living for her and her child through her handiwork. Thus, from an early age, Hester adorns Pearl in beautiful garments while she remains modestly dressed, her hair covered and the letter A, albeit finely decorated, permanent attached to her bosom.

Removed from the rest of civilization, except on occasional trips to the town with her mother, Pearl is essentialy a child of the forest, for she belongs to Nature. She is allowed to roam freely, make up her own games and playmates, and learn the world anew, a world in which the Nature within is given full rein.

Pearl's external beauty is a result of the innocence and freedom she has within her. She is her mother's companion as well as her savior; she's loving, curious, and brave; she plays with the animals and is one with the plants and flowers. Intrigued by the scarlet letter on her mother's breast, Pearl constantly questions Hester as to its meaning and at one point even tells her she wants to be like her mother. Most of all, Pearl asks for genuine love and affection from Hester and the minister, Arthur Dimmsdale. When the latter refuses to hold her hand in public in the daytime, Pearl is crushed and loses her faith in the minister. To Pearl, who lacks a strong father figure or a happy mother figure, the only symbol of constancy is the scarlet letter. She becomes almost as obsessed with it as the villagers who were responsible for making Hester wear it. She touches it, plays with it, and contructs and imitation of it on the grass during one of her games.

Although the scarlet letter is initially a symbol of punishment, it becomes a source of strength for Hester and Pearl. Hester is able to exert her independence and earn a living of her own because of it. As both Hester and Pearl are marginalized, they have freedom to do things the other townspeaople cannot. Though Hester lacks friends, she is able to form a closer bond with her daughter and learn something from her. Pearl thrives more while being marginalized, for she is able to be 'wild' to her heart's content, just like the reeds that grown on the river bank. Pearl does not govern by Puritan rules but rather, by the laws of Nature. Nature is indeed on her side, for Pearl's existance is a result of love, a feeling that cannot be governed by any law, but the divine. In this sense, Hawthorne equates the Divine with Nature, which translates to Pearl being a symbol of a divine Angel. Further, she is faithful to her feelings, unlike the adults around her, and that is itself admirable. She is passionate and speaks out even if her mother does not. She is protective of her mother and wards off other people who threaten to harm her or her mother.

In a scene riddled with symbolism, Pearl uses the scarlet letter to change her mother. Towards the end of the novel, Arthur and Hester reconcile and Hester convinces him to return to England so that they can live obscure but free lives. In one of the most moving passages of the novel, Hester strips herself of the scarlet letter and hurls it across the ground. She also releases her hair from its clasp so that her rich tresses tumble down in waves about her. She remarks to Arthur that in the forest, at this time, the scarlet letter will no longer burn her even if she wears it, because she is with none other than her companion in 'crime'. As she gets rid of the scarlet letter, she tastes a hint of freedom, even for a brief instance. When Hester calls Pearl, who was playing by herself on the opposite side of the stream, the child refuses to return to her mother's arms. Speechless, and stunned, Pearl points to her mother's chest, and with an understanding sigh, Hester retrieves the scarlet letter, hooks it back in its place and bundles her hair into its previous hairstyle. As she does so, Pearl happily skips over the stream and embraces her mother, for now she recognizes her. Thus, Pearl orders her mother into submission by using the scarlet letter. While it is posession and constancy on Pearl's side, her actions also suggest oedipal tensions, for the child, seeing her mother decked in natural beauty, winning the affection of a man, who is essentially Pearl's father, is roused with jealousy, and so attempts to strip her mother of charms that will win over her own. Hester thus resigns herself to the tribulations associated with wearing the letter A.

It is interesting to note that Pearl is a sparkling character when she is a child. She is repeatedly refered to as elfin, child of the forest, impish, and fairy-like. Through her bright, bubbly, passionate nature, Pearl wins the affections of the townspeople, the minister, and even Roger Chillingworth, the novels antagonist and Hester's legal husband. In the novel's conclusion, we learn that Hester and Pearl leave for England. Pearl is hightly sought-after for she inherits a large sum of money from Roger Chillingworth, upon his death. We are told that she later marries and possibly has a child of her own. Nothing else is mentioned about Pearl, and in fact, we are left to only infer certain facts about her, for she never appears on her own. Why is this so? Why does Pearl assume so little importance towards the end of the novel when she played a prominent role until that point? Does Pearl's transformation into a 'proper woman' in England, her marriage, and motherhood, signify that she is no longer worth talking about?

By taming the elf-child, does Hawthorne applaud Pearl for her sucess, or is he, like the readers, disappointed with her for succumbing to the pressures of a 'modern, rational, ordered' world?

[The insert is from "Pearl and the Scarlet Letter". Wood engraving by George M. Richards. From "The Scarlet Letter" (New York: Macmillan, 1927). ]

Odds and Ends.

2007-02-28T22:38:00.000-05:00

I've had painfully few blog entries this month and I apologize. It was quite remiss of me, but I shall endeaver to make amends. As tomorrow will usher in the month of March (meaning Spring is almost near!), I intend this post to sum up the latest goings-on in my little world.

I've enrolled in two classes this month and the coursework has sucked in most of my free time. For my American Literature class, we read one book per week, which I find to be rather difficult, considering that the prose is 19th century. However, the class is quite interesting as I am learning so much about American History. Along with staples such as Moby Dick and The Scarlet Letter, we are also reading some obscure books, such as Catherine Maria Sedgwick's Hope Leslie, and William Wells Brown's Clotel. I find it fascinating to compare the differences between British Literature and American Literature. Whereas the former is mainly concerned with issues of class (especially "gentility"), the latter focuses on issues of migration, assimilation, and religion. Hope Leslie, in particular, is an early proto-feminist novel, where Magawisca, an Indian woman, stands as an example of morality and strength. Furthermore, the novel ends with Esther, the meek niece of a Puritan governor, rejecting marriage, but impressing the people around her by her own individuality, nevertheless. I am also intrigued African-American narratives, especially in the comparison between Uncle Tom's Cabin and Clotel.

The other class I am taking is a fiction class in which we write, read, and critique our own works as well as our classmates’. This class is, of course, much more creative than the former, although it is equally hard. There's a substantial amount of writing to do and since the class is small, the instructor insisted that we all had to speak up and give our input. So even if I can manage to not read a book or two (or 4!) for the American Literature class, I cannot afford to neglect any part of the coursework for my fiction class. When I submitted my first story, most people said that although they liked the descriptions, they wanted to see more "action", more on the level of plot. My second story is due this week but it is turning into a hassle because I fear that the plot, though simple, might be difficult to contain within the short-story format. Anyway, we shall see.

I watched the Oscars this Sunday (yes, all of it!) but was rather disappointed with the results. I heard film critics predict, before the event, that The Departed would win Best Picture because the Academy feels be obliged to award Martin Scorsese that honor, since the latter had been making films for a long time. I haven't seen The Departed (political thrillers aren't really my thing) so I can't comment about it. I was rooting for Pan's Labyrinth to win Best Picture in the Foreign Films category but that award was given to a much less well-known film, The Lives of Others. Little Children also didn't get garner any awards, much to my disappointment, since I thought Jackie Haley gave a compelling portrait of a troubled former child molester. I haven't seen Dreamgirls or The Queen so I can't vouch for Jennifer Hudson or Helen Mirren's performance. I think Helen Mirren is a fabulous, accomplished actress though but she did face some tough competition. Then of course, the newspapers and websites were flooded with the "Best Dressed and Worst Dressed at the Oscars" type of articles, some of which were amusing to read with their snide remarks and tongue-in-cheek humor.

My grad schools applications are almost at an end. I have one more school left to apply but that isn't due for a whole month yet. I haven't received any decisions from the schools so that's made me anxious lately.

And last but not least, I couldn’t resist the after-President's Day sales!

Sacrifice and Salvation in The Chronicles of Narnia and Pan's Labyrinth

2007-02-08T21:59:00.000-05:00

Religion is a central theme to both Pan's Labyrinth and The Chronicles of Narnia (The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe). With respect to the latter, C.S. Lewis stated that one of his motives for writing the Narnia series is to instill Christian ideology in the minds of young readers. This ideology is projected through the character of Aslan, the King of Narnia. Aslan, though a benevolent ruler, is, nevertheless, "not a tame lion." Besides being valiant, he also reveals his gentler side. The children immediately take to Aslan, obeying his commands while trusting his judgements. Aslan comes to their aid in times of trouble and allows the children's own natures to flourish. Under Aslan's guidance, the children have a chance to test their own faith and bravery, win the favor of the Narnians, and finally rule as Kings and Queens of Narnia. By his ability to create the land of Narnia, enable animals to speak, and act as a guarding for the children, Aslan functions as God. This God is distinctly Christian in that Aslan resembles a Christ-like figure, especially when he sacrifices his life to save the life on another, and thus, save all of Narnia. When the White Witch demands the Narnians to turn in Edmund, the erring Pevensie sibling, for having made false promises to her, Aslan makes a pact with the White Witch to go in Edmund's stead. The White Witch, who is all the more eager to destroy Aslan, immediately agrees since she also fears Aslan's powers. Both Susan and Lucy stare in horror as Aslan is tortured, humiliated, and brutally murdered by the White Witch and her accomplices. However, just as the children mourn for his loss, a miracle happens and Aslan comes back to life. In other words, he is resurrected. He explains to the children that he is able to come back to life because he was innocent to begin with, and had given his life to protect the life of another (in this case, Edmund, whose own innocence he believed in). Aslan asserts that the White Witch, oblivious to the power of love and sacrfice, could weave no spell that could destroy him. Thus, Aslan returns to life and helps to save Narnia.

This notion of Christian sacrifice is also hightlighted in Pan's Labyrinth. Unlike in The Chronicles of Narnia, however, a 12 year old girl functions as a Christ-like figure in this film. She seems to be everything Aslan is not, for she is not male, mature, or strong. Ofelia is thin, wan, neglected, lonely, dreamy, and sensitive. Everything one would not expect in a typical hero. But despite that, she finds the Labyrinth and sets out on a journey to eventually find peace. In the process, she proves her bravery and wisdom. Furthermore, she asserts her belief in faith: she believes in the goodness of Pan's words; she believes in order and harmony; she believes in love and beauty; she believes that goodness will prevail over evil. Like Christ (and Adam), she shows that she too can succumb to temptation. She eats the "forbidden fruit", but later, given the chance to repent for her sins, realizes the extent of her folly and is more zealous in her "faith" (in heeding Pan's words in this case). Although her faith is tested several times, the crucial act occurs towards the end of her journey, when Pan asks her to surrender her new-born baby brother. At this moment, Ofelia finds herself within inches away from attaining her dream. Pan tells her that if she were to obey him, she would no longer suffer under the commands of Vidal's dictatorship, for she would then be transported to her magical kingdom where there would be only peace. Despite the temptations associated with this offer, Ofelia refuses to hand over her baby brother on account of her love for him. She could not bear to have his blood shed in order to attain her dream. She was prepared to save his life rather than her own. Ofelia's sacrifice at the end of the film allows her to transcend the world of mortals. Pan reveals to her that she is the rightful Princess because she distinguished herself through the noblity of her actions, especially with regard to the sacrifice. She cared deeply for the baby and it was vital that a true Princess knew what it was to love another, to give your life to save another's. In the end, we see that Ofelia too is resurrected: she returns to life and is said to have had a peaceful reign for many, many years, adding beauty and love to the world of mortals.

Through the use of Christian imagery, both The Chronicles of Narnia and Pan's Labyrinth show the importance of sacrifice as a means of salvation, teaching the children and other viewers alike that the concept of sacrifice is central to Faith, and that the sincerity of love is what will sustain us in the end. However, it is worth noting that in both these films, strict adherence to Scripture is not maintained. Both these films make use of fantasy. In both, Christianity coexists with something fantastical, primitive, almost Pagan. The world of Narnia is filled with other creatures from mythology, and so is the world of Pan's Labyrinth. Thus, both films show that sacrifice is not only a central element to Christianity, but that it is vital to all types of religions, both the modern and primitive. Furthermore, both films show that it is indeed possible to mix the Pagan and the Christian.

Review of Pan's Labyrinth

2007-02-03T18:35:00.000-05:00

Last Tuesday, I had a chance to see the critically acclaimed film Pan's Labyrinth (El Laberinto del Fauno) directed by Mexican director Guillermo Del Torro.

It is truly one of the most captivating films I have ever seen. Everything about it--from the plot, the special effects, the themes, the acting--contributes to making this film a masterpiece. Out of all this, I think its strength lies in its use of the fairy tale that is at the core of the film. This isn't the first time that the fairy tale motif is used in the medium of film or literature to translate historical facts or explain psychic phenomena. The use of the fairy tale in Pan's Labyrinth enables this film to speak to a variety of audiences, and consequently, allow it to transcend all sorts of classification. In this sense, Pan's Labyrinth rises above the generic, the ordinary. It is neither a children's film nor one exclusively intended for adults. Similarly, there is no restriction in terms of setting: there is a significant time-span: the story of the princess in the underground is ancient, but Ofelia lives in 1944, traversing different time-periods by means of her imagination. While it can fall in the real of science fiction/ fantasy, it also has elements of horror and drama. This is a film, very much like Whale Rider, where fact and fiction commingle seamlessly, where we are what we dream, where strength lies in Imagination.

Pan's Labyrinth is a story about a lonely 12 year-old girl, Ofelia, who goes to live with her pregnant mother and new stepfather in the Spanish country side during 1944. The Spanish Civil-War has just ended and her stepfather, Captain Vidal, is assigned the task of getting ride of an anarchist militia that lurks in the woods surrounding his residence. Ofelia is a very imaginative girl, finding solace in the company of books of fairy tales that she brings with her. One particularly speaks of the legend of a lost princess, who ventured from the peace of the underworld, where she knew no pain, death or disease, to the world of the mortals above ground, eventually forgetting her past and with it, her legacy. The legend predicts that the lost princess will one day return to her Palace, reclaim her identity, and bring freedom and beauty in the world.

It is interesting to note that Ofelia's adventures in the magical realm mirrors the external political conflict taking place around her. As Ofelia finds herself trapped under Captain Vidal's orders, she tries to rebel and so approaches the magical Labyrinth secretly, when no one sees her. As the militia gains power, through the help of the doctor and Mercedes, Ofelia gains more entrance into her magical world. The militia is in fact, fed and nourished, just as Ofelia destroys a horrible toad that was sapping nutrition from the Tree at the center of the Labyrinth. When Ofelia fails her second test, as when she eats the fruit belonging to the Pale Man, she releases a Monster into both her magical world as well as the real world. Captain Vidal gains power this time, capturing the rebel soldiers and torturing them. Concurrently, her mother is weakened by her preganancy, on the verge of losing the baby that sustains her relationship with her dictator husband. When Ofelia is eager to perform the last task and win the Faun's favor, the rebel militia are freed and rises in power. As Ofelia's prophesy is fulfilled, Vidal's regime crumbles and freedom is finally won.

Another instance this film is unique is that it enables women to be agents of Freedom. While the legend spoke of a lost princess who will one day return to restore peace to her kingdom, Ofelia, acts out the princess's valiant deeds. She bravely sets out to perform the tasks the Faun asks of her. As the film progresses, Mercedes, Vidal's housekeeper, also rises in importance. It becomes clear that Mercedes risks her own life and helps her brother and his friends who are in the anarchist militia, despite living under Vidal's roof.

The link between Mercedes and Ofelia is made earlier in the film when Mercedes comforts the friendless, neglected young girl, by offering her comfort and a willing ear. Both Ofelia and Mercedes have poor mother-figures as examples of strength. In Ofelia's case, her mother is weak and sick with a pregnancy, abused her by husband who desires the baby more than his wife. While we know nothing of Mercedes' mother, we do know that she has been greatly influenced by her brother, a rebel fighting for freedom. Ofelia and Mercedes also both rebel, striving to attain freedom: Ofelia tries to return to her fantasy kingdom, and Mercedes wants to stand by her brother's cause, one in which Vidal and his cruel dictatorship is overthrown and freedom and equality will be restored to the people.

Mercedes says, when Vidal confronts her about her ability to carry out espionage under his own eyes, that the reason she was able to get away with her actions was because she, being a woman, is considered invisible. Mercedes asserts that invisibility becomes a source of power for a woman. She need no longer hide behind the shadows, but can use her strength of mind and body to her advantage. Similarly, Ofelia looks timid and lanky on the outside, but is immensely courageous on the inside. In her invisibility, the loneliness that thrust her into the folds of invisibility, Ofelia was able to fill her mind with stories, and being naturally curious as well as neglected, she was able to explore her world and find the Faun, thus being mistress of her own Fantasy story.

Del Torro shows that political freedom is attained alongside freedom of the imagination. When Ofelia's fantasy world is given full reign, only then is Vidal destroyed. Del Torro's stance on women is given most weight at the end of the film, when he links Ofelia to a Christ-like figure. Ofelia, an innocent, virtuous young girl, sacrifices her life in order to save an innocent, and thus, liberate humanity, after defeating evil. By elevating Ofelia to Christ's status, Del Torro's subversive act questions the precepts of religion, Christianity, resurrection, and gender roles.

Along with its thematic elements, stunning visual effects and dedication to the Art of Storytelling Pan's Labyrinth reminds us that belief in the Imagination is vital to the triumph of the human consciousness.

Review of Polly Teale's Brontë

2007-01-20T23:14:00.000-05:00

I've had a chance to see a production of Polly Teale's renowned play and here are some thoughts:

The play seemed to be a sort of biopic, chronicling the lives of the Brontë siblings from childhood through adulthood. Unlike other versions in this genre, however, Polly Teale's take is an intermingling of fact and fiction, reality and fantasy. The play is as much a celebration of the sisters' lives as it is of Brontë criticism, for we get multiple interpretations fused together in this version.

All the actors performed well, delivering their lines with ease. There was also an amusing portrayal of Arthur Bell Nichols as a moony-eyed simpleton (minus the sideburns). With the exception of Anne's characterization, the others were more like their respective stereotypes: Emily was often reserved and rather contemplative, Charlotte seemed bossy and ambitious, Patrick cold and distant, Branwell reckless and weak. Anne, however, was quite bubbly and headstrong. She wasn't portrayed here as someone meek and shy as so many biographies have affirmed, including the biopic The Brontës of Haworth.

What I didn't like about the acting, however, was the over-emphasis on an Irish accent. As it happened to be American actors who performed all the Brontë sisters' roles, the Irish accent came off as a strained imitation, rather than something natural. It is even doubtful that that Brontës' accent, even if it had had an Irish ring to it, would have been as sharp as what it was shown to be here.

With regard to setting, it consisted of a large room with a fireplace on the right, which was near the door. On the left, hanging on the upper portion of the wall was a mirror that reflected the scenes taking place directly beneath. Hinged to the back of the room (facing the audience) were three chests. And finally, in the center of the room were two tables. The first large table was complemented by three chairs and a second lone, smaller table was accompanied by a single chair. There were books and papers strewn all over the tables and near the fireplace, signifying their importance in the Brontës' lives. Teale's using the drawing room, or writing room rather, as the center in which the play unfolds, is an indication of the most crucial aspect of the Brontës lives and works: they are, first and foremost, writers in every sense of the word, and thus, it is only fair that the drawing room remains as the setting for the whole length of the play.

The setting serves as a microcosm of the sisters' inner minds. During the play, the Brontës' characters seamlessly weave in and out of the stage at opportune moments. Just as events take place in the sisters' lives, their characters also have roles within the play, at the same time. For example, as Emily thinks of a story, Catherine Linton enters the stage, armed with a pillow and dressed in a white lacy nightdress. As Branwell cries out his grief over losing Mrs. Robinson, we see Bertha writhing on the floor, her mop of hair shielding her face, giving her an almost animal-like appearance. We, the audience, see the characters on stage as if they were elements of the sisters' own psyche.

Since I am quite familiar with Bronte biographies and criticism, I found many such interpretations of them in this play. However, what I found rather exceptional was the portrayal of the "other woman". In this play, Bertha and Catherine are played by the same actress. The former is scantily clad, with a marked corset revealing a voluptous frame, and a ruffled skirt over which lay remnants of a red, tattered apron. Bertha's hair was untidy and coarse, serving as a reminder of the "unmanageable" nature of her character. Futher, her movements are both ferocioulsy sexual and instinctively animal-like. On the other hand, Catherine Linton appears with her hair tied together in a neat braid, wearing a nightdress of virginal white, her voice soft and melancholy. By having the same actress portray both women--Bertha the madwoman, and an almost angelic, soulful, Catherine, Teale confirms the existance of a split personality for women, a fact prominent in nineteenth-century literature, famously postulated in Gilbert and Gubar's The Madwoman in the Attic.

Another woman who takes center stage in the Brontës' lives, especiall Branwell's, is Mrs. Robinson, who ironically does not appear on stage, although she is acted out by both Bertha and Catherine. When Branwell refers to Mrs. Robinson, he stresses her passionate nature, her over-indulgence of feelings, the rawness of her emotions. Just as talks of her, we see Bertha alongside him, her motions highly eroticized. On the other hand, when Catherine Linton speaks of an unhappy marriage, being unable to relate to her husband but yearning to unite with her former love, this is not unlike Mrs. Robionson, who is also a married woman, and whose plight, as it becomes clear, rouses us just as Catherine's does. By aligning Mrs. Robinson with Bertha, who is aligned with Catherine, we see that all those three women are connected: they could be one and the same. Despite Mrs. Robionson's not appearing on the stage, we know that she is in fact there the whole time. Though invisible, she is never absent, a situation that resembles the power of the Brontës to transcend obscurity.

I admire Polly Teale for unearthing some controversial issues that deserve to be examined. By having a drunken, livid Branwell attack Charlotte in an abusive manner, Teale asks us to consider the ill-effects of domestic abuse which was a difficult issue in the Victorian era more than in our present time. Moreover, Branwell's manner of clutching Charlotte, groping parts of her body, strangling and flinging her violently as the other sisters watch in shock and powerlessness, is not far from sexual abuse, hinting the possibility that such an act is not uncommon in middle-class Victorian households such as the Brontës', despite the latter's unwillingness to acknowledge it. In this way, Teale also brings to our consciousness the possibility of incest, which could also explain the siblings' neuroses, especially Branwell's.

Teale's treatement of Charlotte also hinges on turning her into quite an unlikeable person. Fiercely ambitious, repeatedly Charlotte says that she wants to be famous, that she wants to be "forever known". This obsession makes her increasingly dissatisfied with Branwell's failure and his squandering the favors his father has bestowed on him. As Emily defends Branwell, this only makes Charlotte get into rows with her sister. The Charlotte in this play is short-tempered, prone to flights of rage. She can be quite bossy and jealous about her sisters' works, especially Emily's. The play suggests that after Emily's death, it was Charlotte who burned all her letters as well as Emily's second novel that was nearing completion, if not already complete by the time of her death.

Besides focusing on the Brontës' lives as writers, its innovations in stage setting and characterization, its ability to provoke the minds of the viewers and challenge commonly held notions of the Brontes and the Victorians, Polly Teale's Brontë is a play that intrigues and captivates, adding new twists that will appeal to any one--whether you are a Brontë aficionado, or don't have the faintest idea of them beyond English class.

*NB: The picture above is not from the production I saw. Though it is an image taken from another production, this scene closes the play.

Not Quite "The Most Enchanting Tale of All"

2007-01-17T00:40:00.000-05:00

After weeks of anticipation, I finally had a chance to see Miss Potter. Although the movie started off quite well, I found myself rather disappointed as it progressed. Though a heartwarming tale, which was intended to be a biopic, the movie, I fear, might prove more of a success with young children rather than older viewers.

While Renee Zellweger gives a sparkling performance as the quirky Beatrix Potter, and Ewan McGregor as well the rest of the cast serve to complement her performance, the effect is not enough to erase blemishes in the script. For it is the script that is strongly lacking in depth and purpose. The film is half-way between fact and fiction: it is neither a complete biopic, nor a sophisticated work of art. When the film had a lot of potential to use this ambivalence to its advantage, the result was not quite satisfactory.

A few words will suffice to convey the gist of the plot: Beartix Potter writes a children's book amidst opposition from her family, falls in love with her publisher, becomes rich, eventually marries, and donates money for the purpose of conservation of historic land. A happy ending indeed. Now, tell me, why should someone go and see this particular film with an all too familiar script, if it is like just like any other average film?

The characters aren't shown to have a depth to them. Even Beartix barely escapes this classification. We don't know why exactly Mr. Warren loves Beatrix--is it for her work, or her beauty, or was he merely tired of being single? We don't see why Amelia Warren wishes to befriend Beatrix so much. Although we get a glimpse of Peter Rabbit and his friends popping out of the page, we don't get these creatures' perspectives on the matter.

The romance between Norman and Beatrix isn't explored well enough to be something deeper than a fling. Norman and Beatrix are shown to be "deliriously in love" with one another--but it seems to be more a fever of the flesh (to put it bluntly) than a mature, sustainable, affection for one another. Yes, they are both lovely people, if not at times awkward, but they seem too...nice, too perfect to be real.

I am also not too pleased about the film's handling of Beatrix's imagination. The technique of making her characters come alive at certain moments, sadly, seems more a mockery than a triumph. It is almost like accusing Beatrix of regression rather than affirmation of her identity as a serious author. Perhaps her mother is right in not taking her too seriously after all. Peter Rabbit and his friends are shown to be communicating with Beatrix only so one is left with wondering whose perspective the film is told from: Beatrix's or an omniscient narrator's. I do think the director could have explored Beatrix's relationship with her imagination in greater detail rather than affording spotty glimpses here and there. It is clear that her work makes Beatrix happy, but it isn't clear what about her work drives her unhappy and why she desires more than her work will allow.

Despite its flaws, however, the redeeming features are two fold: the depiction of the Lake District, and critique on the Victorian upper-classes. The Lake District begins to have a character of its own right from the first. The setting provides Beatrix with a freedom (if that is possible in her strict household) to explore the nature around her, and thus help her weave her stories. She intends to live in the Lake District as she finds it a source of inspiration for her writing. Towards the end of the movie, Beartix does establish her freedom as an independent woman by buying a house, and managing her land. Thus, the Lakes, becomes a synonym for freedom through Art.

The humor evoked by Beatrix's family's desperate attempt to maintain their "place" in society is striking. Beatrix's mother is a tiresome snob who does not see her daughter for the talented woman that she is. Also, her attempts at trying to bring suitors for Beatrix's marriage also merit a laugh. An unforgettable character is Beatrix' aged escort, an elderly spinster or widow, who accompanies Beatrix wherever the latter went. It is interesting that Wiggins (as I believe she is called) never says a word in the film, though her expressions are intended to convey the satire embedded into the film.

In conclusion, this isn't a bad film. It is just that I happen to have had more expectations for it. It is worth a watch if one is in the mood for something uncomplicated, fun, and light-hearted, but it does not deliver much more than that.

AAA and some other (twisted) happenings

2007-01-10T00:25:00.000-05:00

Today I endured the worst attack (yet) of AAA, which stands for Acute Applications Anxiety (yes, I believe I might have just invented the term, although this phenomenon tends to be a rather undefined endemic that sucks the marrow of postgrads to-be precisely around this time of the year). The primary symptoms include restlessness, extremes in appetite, spacing out, lack of desire for a social life, unhealthy levels of procrastination, body-aches, eye-aches, numbness, sleeplessness, and edginess.

The day started off with a slightly more than normal amount of procrastination. The agenda for today included making a long trip to pick up some documents that needed to be mailed, returning to town before the post office closed, gathering all my materials together, and having them express mailed. Remembering that the train leaves from the station at 1pm, I managed to scuttle out of my room with only half an hour to spare, which wasn't enough time to get to the station. When I reached the station, I remembered that the train runs on a special winter schedule so it would no longer come at that time. When I called my friend and found out where the next train comes,with five minutes to spare, I ran as fast as I could, despite the cruel wintry wind slashing my face. Panting, I managed to catch the train in time, ran a marathon again to get my documents and hopped on the next train back. By this time, it was already 4pm and the nearest post office closed at 4:30pm. This was certainly not enough time to gather all my documents. For one, I had a hard time printing documents, for if I noticed typos or mistakes in indentation, I had to print the documents over again. Not to mention, I had a hard time deciding what writing samples to send in the first place, so double the time was spent in editing papers, half of which would not get sent. After about two hours, as I was making a final checklist of gathered materials, I realized that the post office near-by closes in just half an hour. Overestimating my strength, I started walking for a mile, before my fatigue overpowered me and I succumed to the assistance of a kindly bus out of which I bounced off too fast, leaving me to walk yet more distance to get to the post office. The moment I surrendered those precious docuemnts, a sense of relief came with the aftermath.

Little did I know how things were to turn. When I reached home and just as I searched for my keys and pulled them out of my purse, I noticed that the key to my apartment was bent! Yes, a metallic key was bent in shape! Of all things to expect, who would fathom a bent key? It is one thing to lose a key and it is an entirely different matter if you have an otherwise strong-looking key that is mysteriously bent! Secretly, I think the energies resulting from the stress I underwent must have caused the key to react this way, but who knows? Anyways, just as I tried to slide the key into the keyhole of my apartment door, the key snapped! Broke into two pieces! So there I was locked out of my apartment for no fault of mine, for even though I have been locked out in the past, I could not be held responsible to not taking due precaution against a case of a bent key. I mean, who would even imagine such a thing happening, and today of all days, just when I hoped to relax a little?

My roommate later found me slumped in front of my apartment, like a stray cat, and it was only after she returned that I was able to finally get into my own room and try and destress after such an exhausting day.

Tomorrow I have to say farewell to my poor key (and its sad parts) and get new ones to replace them.

I do hope I don't have days like this very often.

First Post of the New Year

2007-01-05T20:53:00.000-05:00

I hope this New Year has started off splendidly for everyone. I had spent the holidays with my parents at home and was transported to the World of Work only today. As result of my hiatus, my blogging activities had ceased for some time. However, I hope to revive them this year, with the wish of expanding upon my own writing. Realizing that I was never good at adhering to copious amounts of new year's resolutions, I resolved this year to make as small a list as is feasible. Striving to write more is one of the activities on my list, for as the past year drew to a close and inventories had to be made of the year's events, I confronted the painful fact that I failed at last year's NaNo. Occupied with more pressing issues, such as moving apartments and applying to graduate schools, I found little time to devote to writing. I hope things are more settled this year and that I will find not only time, but also enough sources of inspiration, to compose into scraps worthy of a read.

While this year has brought with it anxiety (which isn't out of the ordinary), there is also much to delight in. As for the former, I have yet to complete the application process in the next few weeks, after which will come another month or two of waiting to hear of the results. In any case, I am hoping things take a significant shift this fall: it'll either be going back to school or procuring another job.

And as for the delights, I have started reading the Narnia books!!! They are very engrossing and I hope to read more of them this year.

Also, a fellow Bronte-enthusiast, who shares my love of creativity inspired by the Brontes, has invited me to an event later this month which I am excited to attend.

And last but not least, Miss Potter will be released this month too, adding to what I hope would be an enchanting start to the New Year.

Poor Peter! : The Case of the Missing Men in Elizabeth Gaskell’s Cranford

2006-12-30T19:22:00.000-05:00

Centered around a community of spinsters, Gaskell’s provincial novel Cranford is mainly concerned around the life of Miss Matilda (Matty) Jenkyns, as narrated by a Miss Mary Smith, who, by revealing so little about her own life and thoughts, adds a layer of mystery to a novel that can otherwise appear to be as tranquil as the pastoral farmland that envelopes Cranford.

Despite its sometimes unconnected, and often trite, stories, I found that the novel's strength lies in its portrayal of women's lives. Here we see all classes of women, from the stately Mrs. Jameison to Miss. Matty living in genteel poverty, to her maid Martha, who fosters such devotion to her mistress. The women struggle with coping with changes in a society that transforms from an artistocratic or agricultural to mainly an industrial one. As the economy shifts, the results affect women who have no external means of income through marriage or family. The plight of an unmarried woman, represented by Miss Jenkyns, is of utmost importance, since her survival is at stake.

In Gaskell's novel, it is imperative that the plight of spinsters should receive due consideration on the condition that there is an absence of men. To achieve this end, Gaskell removes from the setting any man who could potentially assist the women.

Captain Brown, a kind, admirable soul who is introduced in the first few chapters, has his life cut short as he dies trying to valiantly rescue a child from a train track. The old bachelor, Mr. Hollbrook, who had once wooed Miss Matty, is also made to die a tragic death just as his romance with Miss. Matty is rekindled in the glow of middle age. Signor Brunoni, who charms all the ladies of Cranford with his tricks, is injured soon after, his recovery prolonged until the end of the novel. Mr. Hoggins, the wise but bourgeois doctor, is ridiculed for being stuck with an indecorous name. The narrator's father, who is Miss Matty's financial advisor, hardly enters Cranford, but is just allowed the the occasional visits by his daughter.

But all these absences have none of the drama associated with that of the Poor Peter, Miss. Matty's younger brother, who, when a mischievous lad, had been publicly flogged by his father, the Reverand Jenkyns and soon after, had bid goodbye to his family and disappeared out of England. Poor Peter's disappearance affects everyone in his family and the uncertainty associated with his disappearance, teases the characters as well as the readers invested in Miss Matty's life, to seek help for her through him on account of him being the means of rescuing Miss Matty from her financial burdens.

Although Gaskell prolongs his re-entry, his reunion with his sisters at the end of the novel hints at something more than a fairy-tale ending. The brother had come to rescue his sister at a very critical time, but was his appearance after all these years strictly necessary? Is this Gaskell's way of surrendering to male power, in that, although her female protagonist struggles to live on her own, in the end she will need the assistance of a man to survive? Why does Gaskell, at the end, seem to approve of patriarchal forces that govern society? Does she suggest that efforts to create an all-female utopia is futile and if it is so, is it the women, with their catty behavior, that are to blame, or men, with their ability to work, that are the saviors?

Poor Peter's disappearance is also reminiscent of Frederick Hale's absence in North & South. Both men's disappearances profoundly affect their respective sisters' lives. But why does Gaskell use this motif in both these novels? I wonder if such an event is drawn from Gaskell's own life, or whether it is solely a plot filler. It is also when their brothers are away that the women grow as individuals. Just as Margaret Hale's love for Thornton is tested, Miss Matty learns to make her own decisions without living under the shadow of her older sister or her favored brother. The pain these protagonists undergo because of the apparent loss of their brothers also suffices to make them into stronger, more independent women. Moreover, in removing the men from the women's lives, Gaskell, a female novelist, has the satisfaction of annihilating men and resurrecting them, a task afforded to no one less than God.

A Brontëan excerpt

2006-12-21T16:53:00.000-05:00

The following is part of the first draft of my personal statement:

"The sun had begun its slow descent, filling the horizon with an almost ethereal glow. It was a crisp, cold day and the wind howled, as my hair, which had tumbled loose from its clasp, spun in waves across my face. I had just passed the Haworth Churchyard and an Inn called the “Heathcliff” and now found myself on a solitary pathway that would eventually lead me to Top Withens, a decrepit barn house reputed to have been the setting for Emily Brontë’s Wuthering Heights. The wind’s cry grew urgent just as I tasted the drizzle of rain with its tinge of regenerative freshness......."

As these lines seem more like belonging to a creative writing piece rather than a research proposal, I declined to use any of them for the actual assignment. Which is quite sad, really, because writing it was fun while it lasted ;)

The Aftermath: Round One

2006-12-17T17:39:00.000-05:00

I am finally back from a rollercoaster ride of writing my personal statement, contacting faculty, filling in applicaiton forms, and getting them sent in time. I can't believe I survived it, really.

After I wrote the first draft of my personal statement, I was shocked to learn that it was too "personal" and so I had to rewrite it in the space of barely two weeks. Now this is two weeks of juggling full-time work, making arrangements to get my transcripts sent from various colleges, visiting my professors, and trying to eat and sleep just enough to be able to think clearly the next day.

Rewriting it proved to be such a herculean task that a part of me is still doubtful about whether the second draft will do. For one, I had to come up with a focus: I had to elaborate on what aspects of Literature I want to study, mention relevant scholars/critics, and also tie in how this relates to my aspirations and what I will bring to the program. When a friend read my second draft she remarked that she got lost reading it for it seemed like a literature paper. Which is not a good sign either because in trying to be focused, you don't want to appear unreadable. Thus followed another few days of agonizing whereby I had to call in sick to work, squat on my bed in my sparsely furnished room, undergo painful cramps in my arms and legs because of oversitting in a dark and cold room (for it hadn't occured to me open the shades or control the temperature), and end up feeling like Lear's Gloucester (who had his eyes plucked out) because of the stress of it all.

Then just as ten o'clock loomed near, there I was, frantically filling in the application form for Uni #1 and just as I had finished sending it in, I learnt, from an academic forum, that I oughtn't to have mentioned something in my personal statment, which lead to a few minutes of trauma induced by a mixture of panic and regret. When I felt stable enough to work on filling in Uni #2's applications, I deleted that problematic line from my personal statement, and sent in the complete form at about 11:30 pm. Within the 29 minutes I had left (for the application system closes at 12:00 midnight sharp), I completed application form for Uni #3 and at 11:55, just as I sent it in, recieved a horrendous pop-up informing me that that "some numbers are missing from Page 1, Question 2", which meant I had scroll all the way back to that page, and then fill in the missing info and by this time it was 11:58 pm! In the space of a minute, and I am certain time froze that instant, I somehow miraculously managed to click "SUBMIT"at 11:59 pm, just before the server would have closed down on me, preventing me from applying there, perhaps forever.

And so I slipped back to earth after all those adrenaline rushes and near-nervous breakdowns. In all my years of schooling and being in college, I have rarely experienced something equal to the stress that ensued in the past two weeks. Everything else was put on hold, including reading blogs I love as well as books (yes, books!), laundry, grocery shopping, phone calls, and socializing, and instead all my energies were spent in reading literary criticism and editing my own drafts, which kept changing every day as I had more material to add.

Although the process is far from over, as many other deadlines are coming up in the next few months, I am quite relieved that I sent in three applications for now. It is never advisable to wait till the last minute to send them in, but given the circumstances, I think I had no other choice but to do so. It is far better to have worked hard on the personal statement instead sending in a poorly written one that doesn't fit the purpose.

I feel like I am now treading on thin ice--the ice of relaxation because I am still unsure, after being away from it for so long, whether the ice is indeed safe to skate. The dance might have to wait, but I am glad I can catch a bit of the rush--and float on the transitory wings of freedom.

Whose dream is it?

2006-12-06T22:50:00.000-05:00

The romantic comedy 13 Going on 30, like most romantic comedies, is light and fluffy, with the classic formula of a heterosexual couple's being destined for each other since childhood, falling in love as adults, and marrying each other with the assumption of "living happily ever after". It's very sweet, saccharine sweet in fact. While deficiencies might exist in the plot, the humor written into the script does more than merely amuse the average viewer, for it serves as a vehicle for exposing hypocrisy, deceit, and crumbling values found in a particular setting.

Though it is by no means stellar as a movie, I did find the imaginative aspect of the "magic wishing sparkles" worthy of notice. Jenna Rink, an "ugly" teenager who longs to have larger breasts and be the most popular girl in school, is presented a doll's house constructed by her rather portly but good natured best friend Matt on her 13th Birthday. Matt also sprinkles some "magic dust" on the roof the doll's house, telling Jenna that the dust would make her wishes come true. When the most popular girls in school arrive and then, instead of socializing with her, slight her and play mean tricks on her, Jenna hides in a closet and cries, wishing that she could be "30 and beautiful". Unwittingly, some of the magic dust shakes off the doll's house, which she had stowed away in that very closet, and lands on Jenna's head as she makes her wish so that the next thing we see is that she wakes up, utterly confused, in a high-end apartment in New York City, wearing a seductive red lingerie that barely covers her voluptous body, as a naked man lies, softly cooing beside her on her bed.

Although Jenna is shocked to find out that she is suddenly 30 and sexually active, no one else seems to show any signs of seeing anything out of the ordinary. Jenna finds out that instead of the shy, socially awkward 13 year old girl she used to be, she is now a popular chief editor for a fashion magazine in New York. Furthermore, she is has also a social butterfly, and from her 13th birthday, had gathered a different circle of friends, cutting ties with her best friend Matt.

Over the course of the movie, Jenna tries to find her identity: though everyone believes her to be snotty Jenna Rink, the fashion editor, she is still very much an innocent 13 year old inside. She seeks Matt, who is a photographer by profession and also engaged to another woman, in order to ask him if he can help her understand what had happened to her overnight. Matt and Jenna rekindle their past friendship and slowly this blooms into something deeper, as Jenna realizes she is no longer a young girl, that she does harbor feelings for Matt that are above the platonic. After soliciting Matt's help with a project for her company, she learns the degree of how despicable her conduct was in the past. She lacked values, she was selfish, and she indulged in unethical behavior in terms of breaking company rules of confidentility. When her coworker finds out that she had been divulging her company's secrets to the competitor, she exposes Jenna in front of the whole staff, causeing her to resign her job. More than losing her job, Jenna is distraught at finding how reckless she had lived her life. In addition, she fears losing Matt, who is caught up with his plans for his impending wedding rather than smart over Jenna's betrayal about using him in a mercenary fashion.

On the day of his wedding, Jenna goes to her home and searches for the doll's house. Just as she shakes it, whispering a wish, some magic dust, which had continued to cling to its roof all those years, now sprinkles on her, giving her a chance to have her wish come true. She had upbraided herself for her behavior at work and to those she loved and wished she could get her old self back so that she can start over, erasing all the unhappiness she had caused to those around her. Moreover, she wanted a new beginning with Matt, for she has fallen in love with him.

As her wish comes true, Jenna Rink is once again 13 years old, hiding in her closet in her room. The 13 yeard old Matt comes to find her and she hugs him and willingly tells him she would hang out with him and that they could have so much fun together. She no longer covets beauty and popularity but simply the warmth of a sincere friendship, a frienship that continues and matures into love, ending in Jenna and Matt marrying years later.

Though it is 13 year old Jenna Rink who wished on the magic dust, this is reversed at the end of the film, for it is the 30 yeard old who wishes she could be 13 and start her life over. Perhaps it is the 30 year old who wants the innocence of her past. Perhaps it is the 30 year old who we have seen all along, trying to explain her selfish behavior, so she imagines her wishing over the dust as corrupting her when she was 13. Perhaps the older Jenna Rink was fooling us, the viewers, too, in that maybe the confusion she showed was actually feigned.

So whose story is it? The 13 year old's or the 30 year old's?

On the Use (and Misuse) of Standardized Tests.

2006-12-02T19:31:00.001-05:00

After months of waiting, I finally took one of my exams today, which has allowed me time to post this entry. I found the exam tedious and silly, and if hadn't been for admissions purposes, I would not suffer myself to endure another moment preparing for standardized tests such as the GREs.

I believe that the GREs don't provide any more information than that already found on a candidate's trasncript. The SATs and the GREs are supposed to test you on your verbal and quantitative ability. But honestly, could the admissions committee not learn that from your transcript? If they see that a candidate applying for programs in the Arts, for example, has taken science classes with quantitative components as well as basic math classes (including advanced Calculus), is that not enough for this particular candidate to enter Graduate school? After all, how much use would finding the lowest factor of a random set of numbers be of use to this particular student? Isn't it more important for her to spend her time on her actual subject, Art in this case, rather than studying for something that might ultimately not help her in a substantial way?

This way of measuring one's Quantiative ability also affects Science majors who, for the most part, are more familiar with number-crunching and generating graphs than Humanities majors. Consider the case of a Chemistry student who is working on her senior thesis, which is a year-long project, involving sufficient research and handling of science literature. If this student, who is plotting graphs and and working with data for a project that she has designed and executed after careful study with an adivsor, is now asked to generate numbers for seemingly random mathematical questions that have little basis for application in her current study, could she be expected to perform the same way in these 2 hours as she does during the course of working for her year-long thesis? The answer is, No. Unlike working on a long, complicated project, the GRE requires you to generate answers to much more simpler questions fast. I have heard of some Math majors who have found the Quantitative portion challenging simply because the test asks you for answers under time pressure without allowing you any time to get to know your subject or each question under consideration.

When a student's verbal ability could be discerned from her trancript as well as her writing sample, I don't see the point of having a standardized test to confirm her verbal ability. If the student is able to communicate well in her writing and it appears to be so from her personal statment, where she tells the admissions committee about why she wants to pursue the subject, then of why should there be a test to see how many words she knows in English or the degree of reading comprehension she can perform in a limited time? While the GRE prep-books vary in the length of their word-lists, which are basically a compilation of lists of "hot GRE words" that one must know in order to "ace the test", many of these lists contain these words in isolation--for they just list the meaning or at least one possible sentence in which the word can be used. Without being familiar with how these words are applied in various situations, merely memorizing them from such lists would not be enough. And if the GRE verbal sections tests students on these "hot words", then it does not do justice to those students who would not have been familiar with the application of these "hot words" outside the prep-book realm. For example, if the student is not a native spearker or has had limited access to literary journals or sophisticated newspapers, they would not fare well when tested on such words. Such a test does not measure the student's intelligence as much as how many words she knows. In this sense, since the amount of words one knows is also related to socio-economic factors, the results need to be carefully analyzed along with other information about the student. If all admissions committees were able to devote as much attention to a single candidate's admission file, it might be able learn as much about the applicant as possible, including the factors that affected her acadmics, and then make a a fair decision based on her credentials.

As for Starndardized Tests and their effect on the Imagination, I feel that this warrants a seperate post altogether. However, I would like to make a few points in this post. Firsly, nothing kills the Imagination more than adherence to formula, to stringent rules. And nothing a student would encounter throughout her schooling would be more formulaic than Standardized Tests. Secondly, there appears to be a sort of double-standard amongst scholars. In order to study "Literature", which includes reading works of Fiction, they maintain that you must not be imaginative yourself. Otherwise, this tendency to imagine could make it harder for you to do well on Standardized tests which are based on spewing out facts rather than testing you on the depth not just of how much you know of the subject, but also the extent of your wish to learn it. For example, if a student wishes to study James Joyce, she must not even attempt to imagine and discover what it means to produce a "stream-of-consciousness" narration for herself. All she needs to do well on the Literature GRE test is to memorize a tedious list of facts, which are in fact, things she must as a future-scholar, question rather than accept. If she failed to do well, she could be barred from entering Graduate school where she had infact planned to study Joyce in the first place.

I understand that objectivity is necessary for scholarly work, but how objective is earning a higher score (through largely rote learing and memorization) or a lower score (due to use of the imagination and unwillingness to accept facts) on a Literature standardized test. How is this not misleading?

Moving Lessons

2006-11-24T22:19:00.000-05:00

I finally managed to find an apartment to move into this month and though at first it seemed ideal-too ideal in fact-I was proven wrong once again. Having endured listening to my narrations about the travails of moving, a coworker remarked, giving me a friendly and sympathetic pat on my arm, "And so you shall learn".

The following lessons I've learnt contain within them metaphors for other aspects of one's life as well.

*When the first apartment you visit is really hideos, everything else you see afterward looks much better, thus serving to only deceive you in the long-run. So don't fall for false-charm, mere illusions, the first good one just because what you had seen before that was awful.

*Do look at the state of the closet before you sign the lease. If the closet is falling apart, either get it fixed before you move in, or better yet, don't move in for this might foreshadow other pressing problems you would rather not be invovled with.

*Try to move in with a friend or at least a friend of a friend, or friend of a friend of a friend or....(you get the picture). But seriously, it is much better to room with someone you have some connection with, someone whose background you'd be able to verify. Even though your roommate does not have to be your best friend, you want her to be something close to a friend at least. You do not want to live in a hostile environment with someone who you cannot get along with, whose tastes do not agree with yours. When living together, make sure you can be friends first.

*Visit the apartment more than once to test if the heaters are working well. You do not want to be left alone shivering on a cold winter's night simply because the landlord has slacked off and didn't check on the heating in your room, which your rent is supposed to pay for. Become familiar with the place and investigate core devices like the heater and windows.

*Buy furniture before you move in. You do not want to contract a backache/neck-ache/headache, the day after sleeping on a mat on the hard floor which would prevent you from celebrating your first day of the move-in. Plus, you don't want to sleep so close to the floor that you start worrying if there are mice scuttling around without your knowledge. Do get a full night's rest, especially on your first night there.

*Be aware that you are no longer in a house. This means you can no longer take for granted that the kitchen equipment is for everyone to use. The last thing you need is to be snubbed by your new roommate, where she requests that you "kindly ask her permission first before you use anything that is not yours". Again,this could create household tension so take this with a dose of humor. Laugh it off if you can, instead of burning with embarassment. We all make mistakes and do buy your own toaster-oven if you don't have one already. They almost always come in handy ;)

*It is wise to err on the side of caution than otherwise. You want to make sure the neighborhood is relatively safe and that the building is free from theft and the like.

*Ask about where you'll be doing your laundry and once again, don't assume you are in a house and that you can do it in the basement. All places do not operate that way. You don't want to be walking to a laundromat, lugging loads of laundry, when there is a snow storm outside and you are wearing your last pair of clean underwear.

Madame Bovary's Legacy of Unfulfillment.

2006-11-20T18:04:00.000-05:00

In Flaubert's classic novel, Madame Bovary, the protagonist who is also the title character faces a grim life of domestic disappointment. Married to a man of mediocre intelligence and naivete who fails to recognize her needs as well as her tendency to go astray, Emma Bovary grows increasingly despondent with her domestic life, becoming physically ill in the process. Neither her removal to the country for a "rest cure" nor the birth of her baby daughter Berthe brings her the sort of joy she seeks. For she wants above all else, excitement in her life, passion, warmth, and freedom to act as she chose devoid of having to maintain homely decorum. In order to escape a life of stagnation, she resorts to having affairs with several men, taking care to carefully conceal them from the eyes of her husband who is wrapped up in his own simple thoughts befitting a country doctor. Unable to wholly win the love of the sort of man she desires, finding either one's affections lacking or her own passion for him insufficient to sustain the relationship, and burdened by debts and public exposure of her scandalous relationships, she commits suicide and dies in agony through eating arsenic. The tragedy of Emma Bovary is a result of her extreme desire, for she is passionate, excessively so and is devoid of an equal who could complement her.

In a similar vein, Kate Winslet's Sara Pierce of the recently released movie Little Children is dissatisfied with her role as a suburban housewife, stay-at-home Mom. She is distinguished from other suburban women of the neighborhood by her physical seperation from them as well as her pensive expression, as is shown in this still. Like Emma Bovary, she does not find motherhood satisfying and she longs for excitement, someone to ravish with her potent desire, a desire she is forced to keep bottled up in her middle-class suburbian surroundings. When she learns that her husband does not find her enough to please him, she seeks to experiment her sexuality on her own terms. She embarks on an affair with Brad Adamson, a stay-at-home Dad struggling with his own problems, who lives nearby.

It is interesting that Sara is the one who initiates the relationship, as much as Emma Bovary is in Flaubert's novel. Sara's connection to Emma is delineated later in the movie when Sara's friend invites her to attend a Book Club meeting where the members were discussing Flaubert's classic. When it came to her turn for comments, Sara remarks by defending Emma's actions, concluding that Emma had no choice but to give up her life of repression for one of passion, one of hunger. She stresses that although she doesn not condone Emma's unfaithfulness, she does admire her power of rebellion, her "hunger". The other women in the Book Club circle listen to Sara in awe and many agree with her, hardly realizing that Sara was able to speak so earnestly by living Emma Bovary's life herself.

Nevertheless, despite seeking to change their situations, both Emma and Sara lead lives of unfufillment and thwarted hopes. Emma dies a bitter death after entangling in financial difficulties, and unable to confess her scandals to her husband and fearing exposure. Sara cannot fully comprehend why she desires Brad and in what way. It is not clear if she loves him or if she is only temporarily distracting herself from her troubles by sleeping with him. She is a character who is incomplete. Like she reveals in the middle of the film that although she started studying for a Master's degree in English, she did not complete it, she does the same with her affair with Brad: she starts and although it is explosive, she does not complete it. In the end, Sara does return to her life with her young daughter, athough we do not know if she will tolerate the waywardness of her husband, remain a stay-at-home Mom or whether she will seek a better life for herself. Just as the movie does not give us the answers, we are left perpetually in doubt.

We, the viewers, are also left unfulfilled.

What is in between "Between"?

2006-11-15T08:13:00.000-05:00

In a memorable end to the movie The Hours, Nicole Kidman, who plays Virginia Woolf, is shown wading through the river just moments before she drowns. Her last lines, addressed to her husband Leonard, are as follows:

"Leonard, always the years between us, always the years, always the love.
Always the hours."

I found the word "between" rather ambigious in meaning and wondered if I am alone in thinking so.

What does "between" in that line mean? Does Woolf mean the years she and Leonard had together? Or can it mean the years they differed from each other, the years apart they seemed emotionally? Is what she says on the surface meant to mask the unhappiness she felt within regaring her relationship with her husband?

Writing Laura Brown

2006-11-09T20:29:00.000-05:00

Occupied with working on my graduate school applications and apartment hunts, desperately desiring the escape into Fiction, the World of the Imagination, I found myself pondering about Laura Brown's position in Michael Cunningham's The Hours.

I wondered why Laura Brown is written into the novel. What is her role? Is she necessary?

Of all the characters in the novel, Laura Brown was the one I liked the most. Virginia seemed too absorbed and convoluted, which isn't necessarily bad, but these qualities did place a barrier between the reader and the writer. Clarissa seemed too giving, too mellow, and rather superficial in her ability to erase any discomfort she might feel.

Virginia is a character struggling with her Art: for she is an artist first and foremost. For that character to find happiness, she must have the freedom to write, a room of her own, which is denied her when her husband removes her away from the sparkling brilliance of London into the dreary confines of a country estate, for the sake of a "rest cure", an attempt to cure her mania. Virginia, despite her struggles, is a great novelist for she works hard at her craft, as if it is the only thing that matters.

Clarissa, with her poise, demeanor, and connections to the rich and famous, appears rather shallow at first. Although she does exhibit having experienced the semblance of an "awakening" by the end, I found the effect quite flat. Whereas she had been previously satisfied with giving lavish dinner parties, entertaining famous people, and being faithful to her long-term lover Sally, her "unraveling" to Louis, and Richard's catastrophic death have shown her that it is the moment that matters, that everything else is secondary. Though Clarissa is shocked by her friend--and ex-boyfriend's--sudden demise, she does not weep and in fact, a part of her contemplates suicide. But only for a fleeting moment. We later see her, after hearing Laura Brown's confession, making love to Sally, who has had her own awakening, values her partner, and is eager to reignite the flames of their relationship. But what has changed for Clarissa? Will she be satisfied with her relationship with Sally? Will she continue to give lavish parties? Will she accept her daughter's friendship with a working-class woman? More importantly, how much will she want?

Laura Brown is in between these two characters, quite literally, as is shown on the DVD and book cover. Laura Brown is neither as absorbed in her work as Virginia, nor is she superficially satisfied as is Clarissa. Whereas Virginia commits suicide and Clarissa mildly contemplates it, Laura comes within inches of taking her own life, only to disregard the thought, with a momentary lapse in time. While Virginia dies and Clarissa lives, Laura is caught being both dead and alive: she "dies" when she leaves her life of being a suburban mother and she lives when she creates a life of her own in Toronto, away from family responsibilities. It is Laura's nearness to death that brings her closer to Virginia than Clarissa, as is shown in her proximity to Virginia in the DVD cover.

But what is Laura Brown's role in The Hours? She is Richard's mother and Richard influences Clarissa. Richard's earlier experiences with Laura are described in the book and they have no doubt influenced the boy as he became a writer. So one possibility is that Richard's ability to write is a result of Laura's influence on him, his witnessing her depression, and along with it, her desire, a desire potent enough to destroy the structure of the family. Aside from being Richard's mother, Laura also is the link between Virginia and Clarissa. Unlike Clarissa, it is Laura who is obsessed with Mrs. Dalloway, Virginia's novel. After she has learnt to find peace in a moment and to seek her freedom through her reading of the novel, she conveys this message to Clarissa. Clarissa now knows that it is possible to "look life in the face, always, to look life in the face, and to know it for what it is...at last, to love it for what it is, and then to put it away.". Maybe this message could only be transferred from one female onto another, and therefore Richard would not suffice. As the DVD cover shows, Laura is in a row behind both Clarissa and Virginia, thus signifying her function as a link between the other two women. Her position also reveals a hierarchy, in that she seems subordinate to both Virginia and Clarissa. Perhaps this "position" addresses the very question I posed about Laura Brown's role in the beginning of this essay: How important is Laura in relation to the other two?

Could the novel survive without Laura Brown? I believe not. For if that were the case, there would be no Richard Brown and no one to influence Clarissa. In short, we wouldn't have a story.

Could Laura survive on her own? I am not sure. She tries to live on her own, she deserts her family, choosing life over death. But what sort of life is that? Did she not feel remorse, guilt at what she has done? Could her newly-discovered freedom compensate for what she had left behind? By writing Laura as he had done so in the novel, Cunningham empowers and disenfranchises her at the same time. She is powerful in that she has access to the past as well as the future: Virginia writes the character of Mrs. Dalloway but it is Laura who can physically touch this character. Conversely, Laura knows two Mrs. Dalloways: one from Virginia's novel and one from real-life and it is because of Laura that the two can merge for Laura is the reader, the interpreter of Virginia's novel.

Though powerful, she is also trapped. Cunningham has placed her in two worlds: she inhabits in the past and the future at the same time. Even though she approves of her leaving her family, she is reminded of her position as a mother, one who hurt her family, when Richard dies, a position that will be branded on her all her life.

Paradoxically, Laura Brown, a woman who seeks her own freedom is trapped by Cunningham's writing her into his story.

The Novelist (maybe?)

2006-11-01T07:07:00.000-05:00

Despite having to prepare for another exam I am taking next month, and possibly a second one the same month, writing my Personal Statement, applying for my post-graduate studies, switching apartments, and working a full-time job, I have decided to take the plunge and try this anyway:

I have wanted to write a story for a while and this would have seemed like the ideal month to try and work at it along with a group of other writers had it not been for the timing especially as I am saddled with so many other priorities. However, I have decided to do what I can anyway, even if it is only a short story.

For today marks the start of the National Novel Writing Month and I am a:

I hadn't noticed it before but I ask: Why is there a man in that icon and why is that the only one availabe for participants to use?

Meddling Middlemen (and women)

2006-10-26T22:07:00.000-04:00

Many of my coworkers are women in their early or mid-thirties and it so often happens that the subject of our converstations revolves around relationships and the joys and pains of having to live with a man (and bear his babies too!). Aside from those that claim to be bursting with matrimonial bliss and others that pine for a breath of "singledom", there is a good number that is baffled at the scarcity of men--of the potential husband types that is, instead of the ones solely looking to get laid. Today our converstation turned to the virtues of online matchup sites, which pride in being able to help thousands find their corresponding soulmates. These matchup sites, the most famous-at least in our sphere-being eharmony, rely on you becoming a paid member, sometiems requiring you to take a personality quiz, and depending on your responses, finding other people whose responses closely match your own. The match of responses is a correlation of the degree of manners, interests, and temperament you would share with your potential love interest (provided of course, that the relationship is allowed to blossom further). In this way, the matchup sites function as middlemen in relationships, a notch short of the traditional matchmaker in the styles ranging from the meddlesome but good-natured Mrs. Jennings to the officious Lady Russell, whose intentions strive to seperate two people who are otherwise madly in love with each other.

For a younger crowd for whom the marriage arena is only a distant possibility, there are the Facebooks, MySpaces, LiveJournals, and Friendsters. Most young people (for now the Facebook has allowed highschoolers to sign up) visit these sites to "network"--meaning keep track of their friends' whereabouts (in other words, affairs such as which couples have broken up and who is in a relationship), connect to old classmates (more out of curiosity rather than driven by any genuine affection), and potentially find a date to hang out with on an otherwise uneventful Friday night. Though all of these reasons seem removed from the more serious purpose of networking, there are a few people who visit these sites to land a job. It is now possible to find out what a long-lost friend is doing in a wildlife reserve in New Zealand and ask her if her team could use an ecologist who specializes in a rare breed of birds that is only found in and around New Zealand. If you are lucky, you might actually be on the plan to New Zealand sooner than you think while the rest of your friends are struggling to find jobs back home.

However, the virtues of such sites are undercut by their ability to meddle with people's lives. For one, going on the Facebook can lead to a severe bout of procrastination each day, leaving chores undone and rising the levels of agitation. Just as relationships can be fostered, they can also crumble. A friend of mine didn't include her relationship status in her profile, which made her boyfriend very upset to the point of paranoia. He insisted that her not acknowleding their relationship is an indicator of the lack of her feelings for him while she maintained that he is unduly jealous since all he should care is how they feel for each other, regardless of whether the whole world knows of her feelings for him or not. Their relationship was rocky for a long time on account of this until my friend gave in, acknowledged their relationship online, mentioned his name, and managed to finally appease his anger. The said couple, for all the world knows, is now doing well.

How tiresome being a middleman could be didn't strike me until I found myself in such a position a few days ago. When a friend of mine felt unwell, her boyfriend contacted me and asked me to check up on her since he was traveling at the time and was unable to spend a lot of time with her. When I mentioned to her about her boyfriend's contacting me on account of concern for her, I sensed a little edginess in her response to me--as if my communicating with him (which he initiated) was not very welcome. Her boyfriend, unaware of what passed between my friend and I, contined to ask me about how his girlfriend was doing and I could not help but feel a little uneasy for the last thing I needed is any suspicion from my friend, especially when it was unwarranted.

It is ironic that when a middleman exists to connect two parties, it can also do the opposite and tear them apart. I wonder if this is a result of the fragility of human affections: are we just as prone to trust people as we are to mistrust them? If we are walking on a tight-rope of emotions in which extremes exist on either side, is this act one of strengh or weakness?

2006-10-20T22:52:00.000-04:00

As I had mentioned in my previous post about mirrors and how they affect our characters, here's a fitting poem by Sylvia Plath:

Mirrors

I am silver and exact. I have no preconceptions.
What ever you see I swallow immediately
Just as it is, unmisted by love or dislike.
I am not cruel, only truthful---
The eye of a little god, four-cornered.
Most of the time I meditate on the opposite wall.
It is pink, with speckles. I have looked at it so long
I think it is a part of my heart. But it flickers.
Faces and darkness separate us over and over.
Now I am a lake. A woman bends over me,
Searching my reaches for what she really is.
Then she turns to those liars, the candles or the moon.
I see her back, and reflect it faithfully.
She rewards me with tears and an agitation of hands.
I am important to her. She comes and goes.
Each morning it is her face that replaces the darkness.
In me she has drowned a young girl, and in me an old woman
Rises toward her day after day, like a terrible fish.

Of ghosts of people past..

2006-10-18T21:42:00.000-04:00

And by people I mean one's self. Each of us changes as our lives are affected. What we are one moment can significantly differ from what we are the next.

In Jane Eyre (2006), we are shown Jane as she looks at the mirror before and after key moments in her life. Jane's face appears not-so-plain, in fact, quite pretty, with the curls of her hair falling in waves about her, right after the fire when Rochester holds her hand. Then we see a dejected Jane looking at the mirror and drawing her portrait while comparing it to the exterior beauty of Blanche's countenance. After the interrupted wedding, we see an even more dishearted Jane attempting to slip out of her wedding clothes on a day that, instead of consecrating her love for Rochester and binding her to him forever, only served to tear her away from him.

In each of these moments, Jane is a different person: whereas she didn't know anyone could care for her before, after the fire, her feelings for Rochester are awakened, as well as a burgeoning sense of her own sexuality. She is now a woman who has come face to face with the potency of her feelings. While painting her portrait, she aims to rid her self of any hope she might entertaing of Rochester's prefering her over any other woman. After Rochester proposed to her and Jane has received her first kiss, we see her face aglow, with faints tints of blush and twinkle in her eyes. Later, as she resolves to leave Rochester, we see her feelings reflected in her ashen face and sorrowful eyes.

Each view of Jane's face in the mirror shows us a Jane who is different from any other. One moment she is a naive child, the next she is a woman beloved. One moment her insecurities consume her, the next she is bursting with anticipation with the prospects of a full and delightful life. Then right after, we see her crestfallen but bent on seeking her own freedom, a destiny shaped by her indomitable will.

I wonder if the ghosts of ourselves remain static or evolve along with us. Does Jane the naive girl maintain her naivete or does she die in order to become a Jane who delights in the warmth of Rochester's embrace? Can the two Janes coexist or can only one inhabit the body at one moment in time? If so, is each person provided a regiment-an army composed of themselves at various moments in time-arming them, comforting them, entertaining them, deriding them, along this Battle of Life?

The question of our multiple selves struck me yesterday when I had had to sit for an exam. Before I walked out the door, I happened to brush my hair and that was when I looked at myself in the mirror, with a face that revealed how giddy and restless I felt within. I remember thinking to myself that the same person who will walk out the door of my room will not be the same who steps back later that night, for she would have taken a test that could potentially decide the course of her career, her life.

I wonder what the woman who stared at the mirror yesterday makes of me as I write this. I wonder if she is still there.

On missing the memory...

2006-10-15T00:27:00.000-04:00

I wonder if we remember things not as they are, but for what they've made us feel. Often, we'd rather be duped into thinking something existed when that was not the case, simply because we would rather keep the memories of it unsullied by any new knowledge brought on by an awakening.

Consider this: A woman uproots from her home, disperses like a seed in the wind, and settles in another town far away. Often she remembers her life in her old hometown. And she weeps. She misses her friends and family. She misses the glow of sunrise every morning, the smell of dew on the oven-roasted farmstead, the shards of quiet scattered over provincial land. In reality, she knows that the flowers reek of rank odor. It intoxicates her and so she drinks. But, instead of rotting, the flowers need to be buried, or else any other vegetation in the vicinity will be stifled by that odor of venom, that potion of Death. For it is in burial that life finds release.

Often, the memories we yearn to hold on to are of things that we wish had happened, of events that were mere illusions. We refuse to let go because these memories, with their dubious origins, have touched us in a manner that nothing real has. Unable to renounce those feelings that have so possessed our hearts, we continue to cherish memories of things that never happened. We would rather live with the illusion of capture because living free without is unbearable.

And we miss the memory of a memory.

A review of the BBC's Jane Eyre: Episode 3

2006-10-10T00:16:00.000-04:00

This episode was just as good as the previous one, and proved to be quite faithful to the novel, in terms of the dialogues used. Ruth Wilson overrides Toby Stephens for her portrayal of Jane, especially in the emotionally charged proposal scene where she literally proposes to Rochester, claiming to be his equal, an independent person with heart and soul, and a right to love and be loved. Though there was an adequate amount of chemistry shared between the two leads, Rochester's sincerity of intention is marred by our knowledge of his conduct towards Adele, Pilot, Blanche, and Jane. For this episode, more than the earlier ones, emphasizes the connection between the women.

Firstly, it is revealed that Bertha isn't very different from Jane after all. She was courted by Rochester, who would have been just as much of a "botanist" then as he is now, and she is the mistress of Thornfield, a house Jane has come to like dearly. What is striking is that there are allusions to the color red throughout the series. Jane is shut up in the red room, she later wears a bright red ribbon on her collar which contrasts sharply with the sombre grey of her dress. As for Bertha, we see her scarf flapping in the wind in more than one occassion (perhaps the same one that she used when she seduced Rochester in the West Indies), she wears a bright red silk dressing gown after she is married to Rochester, and her room in Thornfield is not a dark dungeon, but one filled with bright red wallpaper (perhaps alluding to Charlotte Perkins Gilman's feminst critique in The Yellow Wallpaper). Furthermore, she wears a red gown when she attacks Rochester. Because we know how much the Red Room frighted Jane as a child, we can imagine how being locked up in such a room would have been for Bertha, and Jane could have sympathized with her on the same account. Also, in reference to Gilman's work, Bertha's madness could have been a result of being locked up in a room with bright red wallpaper. Bertha is not without feeling, without the ability to comrehend, for we see that when she first arrives in Thornfield, Rochester looks towards the doorway while her glance is directed in the opposite direction, towards the home she left behind. There is hint of sadness on her face, especially in the expression of her eyes, just before Rochester leads her to what would eventually result in a nuptial torment for both.

Jane's connection to Bertha is shown through the style of their hair. Just before Jane gets sets off to get the church to marry Rochester, she has a little wisp of a curl, which had loosened from the rest of her otherwise plain hair style, and now framed one side of her neck. In Rochester's flashback scene, we see that Bertha also had curls in her hair when Rochester was attracted to her. Furthermore, the curls fall on one side of her neck and are of a larger mass than Jane's. Perhaps this is to highlight women's wanton nature, thus alluding to Eve with her serpentine curls.

Blanch is another "other woman" who is connected to Jane in a manner other adaptations of the novel I have seen have not highlighted. Although she is pompous in her comments regarding "the subject of governesses", she is not without a human side. I felt sorry for her when Rochester termed her "heartless" in episode 2. In this version, we are further left in doubt about what she and Rochester discussed before she went away. Questions remain: Did he explain to her that he did not love her? Did her tease her? Or worse, insult her? She leaves not with a venomous mood, but rather, with a dejected air of a woman who could possibly have suffered much, whehter at the hands of a man or Society at larger (including her family, lead by her mercenary Mama) for whom she is nothing but a pawn in an intricate game of Matrimony for sole purpose of gentrification.

Although they are not excessively fond of each other, Jane harbors affection for Adele, a motherless child deprived of love from her benefactor, who could also be her true father. Just before Jane enters the carriage, Rochester says gruffly something like "Not you! You cannot go like this". We are not sure whether he is refering to Adele or Pilot, until Pilot slips out of the carriage. This scene is very similar to the scene in episode one when Rochester commands "Sit!" and Pilot sits, after which he clarifies, "Not you Pilot", saying that he is not used to being too civil. Adele is also physically similar to Jane, for she has dark features and sharp, thick eyebrows.

Rochester is the man who connects all four women: Jane, Bertha, Blanche, and Adele, and when his actions are portrayed as dubious, we are not sure what to make of him. In episode 2, we are literally left in the dark because the film does not allow light to fall on the faces of Jane or Rochester as they hold hands in after the fire. In episode 3, Rochester's face is witheld from us when Jane accepts his proposal. When we had seen Mrs. Reed's cruelty through the eyes of a child, why are we not shown Rochester through the eyes of a woman?

Things an English major will find amusing

2006-10-09T23:35:00.000-04:00

I was delighted to learn that one of my coworkers was an English major in college (and who is inclining towards attending grad school). However, we didn't get many opportunities to talk about our interests and foster an english-major-bond until today. Although she was into early-modern literature while I lean towards Victorian literature, we found that we both like the Romantics, and are fascinated with Byron.

My supervisor asked this coworker to show me how to create records for students and teachers on our office database. So in order to create fake records for the purpose of practicing using the database, she and I made up names and details...of characters we found intriguing and whom we both could snark about.

Our first candidate was Byron and these were the details we came up for him:
Name: Byron, George Gordon
Office: English Department
Hired by: Me! (insert my name), Chair of the English Department
Passcode: IloveGus
email: manfredsmistress@leghornsboys.org

The next candidate was Blake
Name: Blake, William
Office: English Department
Hired by: My coworker (insert her name)
Passcode: visionaryiam
email: adamandeve@experience.edu
Home address: I-8 Little Lamb, Tiger's Lair.

Highly amused by this diversion, I decided to make one for Charlotte:

Name: Bronte, Charlotte
Office: English Department
Hired by: Me, Chair of the English Department
email: frenchlass101@ponsionnatheger.edu
Passcode: albionsmarina
Home address: Parsonage Road, Haworth, Yorkshire.

Sadly, these records were temporary and I was left bereft when Byron, Blake, and Charlotte "expired" (from the database, that is).

On ageing and other matters...

2006-10-04T22:44:00.000-04:00

Lately I've spared my journal from being peppered with "confessional" posts and the like, vignettes of challenges and triumphs I've encountered on my journey through the forest we call Life. I've had good reasons to. There's a quote by D.Blotcher that reads, "Learning is not a spectator sport". I realized now, looking back on the recent "past", a past that feels like ages, that I've learnt so much in these few months than I've ever done for many years put together.

I cried on my graduation. I felt torn away from my "family", my college, my professors, the environment in which I met my closest friends, the place where I started discovering who I was as a person. I felt as if I was a foster child being taken away by the state because my foster parents couldn't afford to keep me anymore, though they assured me that they'd continue to have a fond affection for me. I cried because I hadn't realized how well I was taken care of until that moment, how well my needs were met, because no matter how many times I might have complained about deficiencies in college, little did I know what was in store for me upon graduation.

On the day of graduation I learnt that I had made a mistake. Because I had not applied to graduate schools the previous year, I did not see any prospects of being in a similarly intellectually-engaging environment. I knew I'd have to "wait out" this year by either working for my keep or vegetating and preying on others' hospitality, not to mention, expenses. I had to enter the workforce because I couldn't really afford to not do so. Besides, I figured that the Working World might give me experience and insight, and perhaps, direct me onto a path I really feel comfortable in.

But one can't simply decide to work and expect a fairy to take care of everything else, for with the decision to work comes the decision about living arrangements and managing finances. Since I was working, I've had to conduct apartment searches, interview potential roommates, witness the horror of homes that are abused by their tenents simply because the latter care more for frivolty than hygiene, learn the tricks of trade, get along with my coworkers, and find time for myself and maintain my sanity in the midst of all this chaos. Add to this further anxiety brought about by preparing for exams.

Over the course of two months, I think I've grown up ten years. I've had to endure impolitic employers, question my own sense of ethics, and make crucial decisions about my welfare. This time has been very rough indeed, for I've had a bad experience at my first job. The stress had also taken a toll on me both emotionally and physically and just as I learnt to stand up, I had to deal with falling down. But life is an eclectic mix: there are roses amongst the thorns, for we understand compassion once we've endured hardship, we delight in the glow of kindness after we've tasted the shower of injustice.

On that reflective note, I hope to now get back to my studies and better prepare myself for the impending exams I'll have to take. It is hard to restrain from roaming around the Blogosphere, but the reign of Priorites might keep me at bay for a while.

A review of the BBC's Jane Eyre: Episode 2

2006-10-02T21:04:00.000-04:00

This episode was a lot more promising than the previous one, and actually made me want to watch the earlier one again just to make sure I haven't nursed any unwarranted misonceptions about that one.

But what struck me most in Episode 2 was the wonderful chemistry that both Ruth and Toby had while the they played the leads. The exchanges the two shared were very intimate and yet, very convincing. Rochester's face is full of contrasts as he conducts himself in jest and earnest, depending on the situation. Even after the Ingrams arrive, he does not ignore Jane, but is aware of her presence, her feelings. He is also not without pity for Blanche, even though he is the chief mastermind behind the board game he plays with his guests. He also betrays feelings for Adele, for we are allowed a glimpse of his face when Jane talks about the plight of children who are deemed "evil" by their elders. Ruth's expresions are the most poignant, however, for she manages to speak without words. The day after the fire, she can barely eat and her face is flushed. Most striking is her reaction to the letters that are placed in front of her in the kitchen. She is in the throes of anxiety until Mrs. Fairfax reads to her about the news of Mr. Rochester. She also inquires pointedly and replies vehemently when Mrs. Fairfax speculates on the match between Mr. Rochester and Blanche Ingram, a girl "considerably younger than the Master". It is clear by this stage that she harbors an attachment for Mr. Rochester, an attachment she can barely contain within herself.

However, despite both characters' rather liberal, though strained, display of their mutual affection, the movie does suggest that tensions are still very much rife.In the famous sexually-charged after-the-fire scene, Ruth and Toby are seen as silhouettes, the light barely illuminating their frames. When Rochester and Jane share what appears to be an embrace, with their faces turned toward each other, it is just that: an appearance. And the whole scene being conducted in the dark suggests that we are also in the dark about what we know of how they feel.Why else would the filmmakers conceal Jane and Rochester's expressions from us, the viewers, when we are shown much else that the characters undergo? Even early on in the second episode, we are given hints that things are not what they appear to be; that we cannot trust what we see. In this sense, how can we expect Jane to trust so easily? Should she not be more cautious in her dealings with Mr. Rochester, in the readiness with which she falls in love with him?

Though generally more annoying than otherwise with her prattle and constant pirouettes, Adele manages to invite sympathy from the viewers in this version because we see Jane aligning with her. Jane is able to defend the fate of unwanted children because she has experienced what it feels like to be despised by those who were her caregivers, namely her aunt Reed. By stating that "every child needs to be loved", she speaks for herself as well, with a hope of confronting the sufferings she had endured in her youth.

Finally, an interesting addition in this version is Rochester's hiring a woman to play the role of the Gypsy while he hides behind the curtains and watches the scene enfold. Whether she is geniune or counterfeit matters less than Rochester's having access to the women, in such a way that he watches them unfold like a play. Unlike other versions, he is now seeing Jane from the point of view of a third party, in fact, he sees her just the way we do. Also, for the first time, we see Jane betraying shades of her feelings to another woman, who is a woman, instead of Rochester, the man who pretended to be a woman. This matter raises questions about gender roles. Would a woman reveal as much to another woman as she would to a man? What was Rochester's motive behind pretending to be a Gypsy woman? Did he want to hear Jane confess in a manner he knew she never would to a man? Would Jane have differentiated between the two genders? Would she have been just as likely to say the same to a man as she would to a woman?

More importantly, I ask, should such a difference even exist?

Standing Up for One's Self: Female Empowerment in the films of Niki Caro

2006-10-01T23:38:00.000-04:00

This weekend, I had the opportunity to watch North Country, starring Charlize Theron, a film directed by New Zealand-born director, Niki Caro. Caro is an internationally acclaimed Director and screenwriter, having made her breakthrough entry with Whale Rider, a film about a Maori girl's challenging the mores of her society, which was released in 2002. While Whale Rider proved to be more than a coming-of-age movie, North Country spans beyond the arrears of laws governing sexual harrassment. What struck me was that both films centered on female protagonists who fought for their freedom, and eventually changed the way their societies viewed women.

The heroines in both films are isolated beings. In Whale Rider, Pai is a girl-child who should not have been born, for her mother had died in child bed, along with Pai's twin, a boy who would have been the leader of the Maori people, had he lived. Pai is left under the guardianship of her grandparents, although her father, who lives in the city, visits her often. Pai is a quiet, introspective child, eager to win the respect of her grandfather, who is a commanding figure in society. Pai knows that she is of a noble line, that the blood of her ancestral Maori tribal leaders flows in her veins, but having had the misfortune to be born a girl, she is hampered from being a leader to her people. Instead, we watch painfully as Pai is shoved to the sidelines, ignored, trampled by others less generous and intelligent then her, namely her grandfather and the boys he trains so as to create a leader of the Maori people out of at least one of them.

In North Country, Josey Aimes is in a similar predicament. Having left her abusive husband and having two children to take care of, she is eager to take on any job that will help her make ends meet. She agrees to work in the mines despite her father's disapproval and she resists against the injustice she witnesses at work even though her co-workers fail to support her. Moreover, even as a teenager, when she had the choice to give her baby up, she made the unconventional decision to keep her child. Both Pai and Josey are in a class of their own.

Caro contrasts her protagonists with the other women around them to enhance their unique characters. Pai's grandmother, though loving, hasn't been able to win over her grandfather, and hasn't been able to provide Pai the kind of support that she needs. The absence of other women around her forces Pai into seclusion. Josey's co-workers are shown as weaker women, and in some cases, foolish and selfish, when contrasted with Josey, who stands up for her rights amidst considerable opposition from her parents as well as society.

The kind of freedom that both women attain at the end of each film is one that is universal, that reaches beyond merely gender equality. At the end of Whale Rider, Pai manages to change the fate of her community, the law of her land. She is restored to her rightful position as the leader of her tribe, winning the respect and admiration from her grandfather and others around her. Josey changes labor laws enabling women as well as men to have more protection and rights at the work place. Both Pai and Josey ensure that minority voice will not go unheard, that the powerless can become powerful, and that justice will prevail.

Both women are changed through the course of each film. Pai sneaks in on the lessons that her grandfather teaches to the young boys in her community. She is fiery and her physical aggression increases with her emotional turmoil. By the end of Whale Rider, Pai's grandfather apologizes to her and she wins his love, a love she has been searching for all her life. In addition to her plight at work, Josey also deals with troubles at home, namely with her parents and her kids. As she gains justice for herself as a worker in the mines, she also regains her rights as a daughter and a mother. Her parents forgive her for their past prejudices and learn to see her for the wonderful, brave daughter that she is. Her son views his mother in a new light, one full of wonder and respect, instead of being ashamed of her for being a mother who "spoke up" too much. Emotional relationships are mended as legal rights are obtained.

What I found most intriguing about both these films is Caro's association of female empowerment and the gigantic, the mystical, the sublime. Both films have large, powerful landscapes that play important roles. In Whale Rider, the sea is a source of power, especially because it contains the whales whose existence is important to the survival of the Maori people. In North Country, the Minnesota mine, with its large cranes, machinery, land mass and work force, is just as important at the characters themselves. As the film progresses and freedom is won, the landscape changes from the frozen winter to bright colors of spring. We move from the dirt and grime of the mines when Josey is at her lowest to the warmth of a home fire when the family reunites at the end.

By aligning female struggle with the whale in the sea and the land used as a mining site, Caro suggests that the female who is also a creature who is also the sea, which is as expansive as the land isno longer alone, for she has a friend in the Nature around her. A single girl-child has the power to move an ocean, for she in imbued with the mythic power of the whale. Despite the harsh conditions found in the mines, a single woman outcast has proven that the land poses less of a danger than the evil lurking in the hearts of the people walking its grounds.

A review of the BBC's Jane Eyre: Episode 1

2006-09-30T21:35:00.000-04:00

I regret to say that the first episode fell short of my expectations. And I did try not to bank on it too much, given the fact that probably no adaptation will ever measure up to my very own version of the story. I did have a lot of faith in this one. Especially because of Ruth and Georgie and Sandy Welch. I did so love how Sandy did North and South. There the camera work was magnificent and the scenes were evocative, superior to that found in Jane Eyre.

Nevertheless, here are a few comments and observations:

The young children weren't given enough film time and the Gateshead/Lowood scenes were so glossed over it is quite painful to witness. There's no mention of Miss Temple and her influence, and we don't even feel too sorry for Helen Burns or the other children (what did they die of again?). And do the Reed's have a maid called Bessie? Are we to feel sorry for little Jane Eyre or not? Poor Georgie didn't even get a proper chance to prove herself. I think knowing Jane as a child is so vital to understanding her as an adult that in reducing and glossing over what is left of her childhood, they have deprived us from knowing parts Jane fully. Adele is ignored in this version yet again. Although the actress who played her seems considerably older than 8 years of age, she isn't given much emotional spotlight. She does little than sing and dance, and hardly betrays feelings of loss.

Then we move to the Thornfield scenes. I would like to know if we will ever hear Bertha's laugh. I mean Jane goes through the first episode without hearing Bertha at all. Perhaps they meant to use the scarlet scarf flapping in the wind (which is quite obvious a symbol to me) as a substitute for Bertha's laugh. Jane hardly encounters Grace Poole in the first episode. They have made Mrs. Fairfax take the role of cook as well, for there are many scenes of her in the kitchen (Were they toning down the status of the gentry, like they did in the recent adaptation of Pride & Prejudice?) Ruth's expressions were quite good, but I think she also had a lot of potential that could have been used if the scenes were written better. While they have economized on the lanaguage, I am not sure that the technique merits applause because I fear that they have overdone it. The language seems rather too trite, bordering on breaching decorum. While Jane says little, we are able to overlook this fact in the book primarily because we have access to her inner thoughts. The first episode showed a Jane who doesn't seem to be very curious, unlike some of the other Janes I've seen. Again, this is because we are not shown much interaction with Bertha/Grace Poole.

As for Toby, his rendition of Rochester did not move the way I had hoped. He looked grim and melancholy and snarked at times..but I think he was just..just..that, without many other Rochesterian idiosyncracies. For one, he really is quite good looking for the role! I didn't get a chance to feel sorry for this Rochester in this version (I think the truncation in dialogue is to blame for this) and I couldn't really sympathize with Jane for falling for him so easily here. He seemed to be flirting overtly with Jane, who is not without her coquettish responses. The way he said "Sit" was so disturbing, when Pilot sat instead of Jane!! However, I might have to wait till I see the rest of the series to give a verdict on him.

Perhaps the film makers were trying to highlight Rochester's character as a person who thinks of those below him as animals. First he orders Jane to sit like Pilot and then he compares her to an insect that undergoes metamorphosis (and he has such a flair for Natural Science in this version!).

The first episode did highlight the evolving romance. Jane seems to be falling for Rochester instantly, as he is with her. Also, we get a peak into Rochester's study, when Jane ventures into it incidentally. Such an act is not unlike Elizabeth Bennett's trailing into Darcy's billiard's room in the 1996 version of Pride and Prejudice, or M. Paul's leaving presents for Lucy Snowe in Villette. All three cases strive to stregnthen the intimacy between the leads, thus rising the sexual tension, which seemed to be a core factor in this adaptation.

The Limits of Sex in "The Full Bronte"

2006-09-24T16:44:00.000-04:00

The Bronteblog mentions an article by Lucasta Miller, in which she investigates how these seemingly virginal sisters came to write some of the most passionate novels in English Literature. In an attempt to explore the "lust on the moors", she resorts to analysing factual details about the Brontes' background. However, because so much of what we know of the Brontes' is a mixture of fact and fiction, she is not free from falling into this trap. Of particular note is her assertion of Branwell's fathering an illegitimate child, a matter that is merely conspiratorial in nature. Further, she states that Emily was "shy to the point of antisocial and happy only when at home with her own family".

I refute such a belief about Emily, or anyone that is reserved. For how do we know if they were just shy, or bored with the people and world around them? What if one is just happy with the thoughts buring in their own heads that they don't need to resort to seeking 'friendships' with others? And I certainly don't think that one must experience a conventional romantic relationship in order to write about it. Emily might have been a recluse, but maybe she appeared to be so in front of those indivuduals who she deemed were 'incompetent', unable to comprehend the breadth of her intelligence. No doubt, for they might have been burnt by her intensity, of mind, of spirit.

I don't understand why so much disbelief is raised about anyone who can write a passionate, erotic story without having experienced sex. I would like to pose the question, what is sex? If sex is a means of rousing one's self and drowning in orgasms of ecstasies, then could not this pleasure be attained by other ways than sleeping with someone within the confines of the bedroom? I know it is possible for the mind to take intense delight in learning for learning's sake. There is a preculiar thrill one gets after mastering a foreign language, in solving a math puzzle, in crafting a story, in making patterns on a canvas. These are all very active, very involved acts, that employ, if done earnestly, every inch of one's being.

When the human capacity for action is so enormous, why limit pleasure to the single act of having sex in a conventional sense? After all, is pleasure something we want to limit? If pleasure is finite, why do we spend our entire lives seeking it? Surely, we also don't spend our entire lives having sex and sex only!

In discussing the lives of virgin women writers, we tend to ask more questions of their love lives than their inner lives, the lives they lived in their heads. We try so hard to find explanations in conventional form: there's the theory that Emily must have been in love with a young man, or else she could have not written Wuthering Heights. In trying to find such simple solutions, people are in fact limiting themselves. They are limiting their own imaginations from exploring the paths previously untrodden. They are tying to define the indefinable.

But I ask, is that not just as cruel, if not more, as Heathcliff, the character's, "revolting scenes" of violence? And more importantly, who is to judge?

Hamlet's Oedipal Complex

2006-09-23T14:48:00.000-04:00

From left-right: Polonius, Gertrude/Ophelia, Hamlet/Fortinbras, King Hamlet/Claudius, Leartes/Horatio.

Yesterday I had a chance to catch a production of Hamlet performed by Actors from the London Stage. This version had only 5 actors, who took on multiple identities, a technique that reveals different strands of Hamlet criticism, all packed into a single performance, a single writing.

Hamlet's mother, Gertrude, was played by the same woman who played his lover, Ophelia. By doing so, this version emphasizes the oedipal tensions inherent in the play. In the original version, Hamlet seems obsessed with his mother's sexual appetite, and her marriage to his uncle soon after Hamlet's father's death. Towards the end of the play, Hamlet steals into his mother's closet and implores her to shun her lustful nature and to remain faithful to the memory of his father. Many adaptations have exploited this scene in bodice ripping ways on screen, where Hamlet is not much younger than his mother, who is a beautiful, voluptious, scarcely-clad seductress. However, this version went further to suggest that she could in fact have been his lover, for she plays Ophelia. In the original play, Ophelia, Polonius' daughter, is Hamlet's lover, who he later torments and accuses of betraying him.

When Hamlet claims to see the ghost of his father, we can't help but question his credibility. Was the apparition a manifestation of Hamlet's scattered thoughts that was spinning out of control? Was the ghost nothing but voices that Hamlet heard in his own head? Was the ghost something the guards made up on a whim as they were searching for new leader? And more importantly, we wonder what the ghost's purpose was in appearing in front of Hamlet.

In this version, the same actor played the ghost as well as Claudius, Hamlet's uncle who Hamlet believes is the cause of his father's death. By doing so, this version suggests that perhaps Claudius could have duped Hamlet, played a trick on his sensiblities. Also, this makes Hamlet's oedipal complex seem more aggessive because his anger at Claudius then translates to his anger for his father, whom he cannot quite bring himself to admit openly. Thus, the father figure is split in two to reveal the love/hate aspect of Hamlet's relationship to that individual, his overwhelming desire for his mother, and jealousy at being unable to unite with her. Morever, the ghost doesn't appear in front of Hamlet in this version, but rather, behind him, so that we really are not sure if all this is just a construct in Hamlet's mind, a mere conjecture.

2006-09-19T19:44:00.000-04:00

I was surprised to see Tara Fitzgerald nude in the movie I Capture the Castle. She did manage to play the character of Topaz, the Mortmain children's eccentric, artistic step-mother with relish, though!.

The only other movie I've seen in which she acted was The Tenant of Wildfell Hall, where she played Helen Huntingdon. If we intertwine fact and fiction, then it is rather amusing to speculate Helen Huntingdon as Topaz!

Also, let's not forget Mrs. Reed, whose character Tara portrays in the new adaptation of Jane Eyre. Being neither awkward nor ungainly, at least she can carry herself well! ;)

In The Eyes of the Beholder: The transformation of Nanny McPhee

2006-09-17T22:21:00.000-04:00

A few days ago, I watched Nanny McPhee, starring Emma Thompson, Colin Firth, and many other quite popular British actors. The movie was based on the Nurse Matilda stories written by Christianna Brand. The story revolves around the lives of the Brown children and the change in their behavior that takes place when Nanny McPhee arrives to take charge of them. Emma Thompson, who penned the screenplay, explained that she had had to change the name of Nurse Matilda, the central character of Brand’s original version, to Nanny McPhee, in order to appeal to a wider selection of audience; many people are not familiar with the term 'nurse' being referred to a nanny as it had been the case in the past. Additionally, the name 'Matilda' conjured up visions of Roald Dahl's young heroine, so that had to be changed to 'McPhee' so it is more fitting to this Nanny, a much older character.

The film begins with a portly woman dressed in cap and nanny's garb, bursting out of the Brown household, screaming for her life. She is the 17th Nanny the children have managed to drive away with fright, for their latest trick was pretending to 'eat the baby', the baby being little Aggie, the youngest of the Brown fry. Mr. Brown learns that this is only yet another act put on by the children, who are, in spite of their naughty behavior, quite clever little things. A busy widower with a lot of mouths to feed and under the patronage of his rich aunt-in-law who insists that he should remarry for the sake of the children, Lady Adelaide, Mr. Brown is unable to control his children and just as he begins to despair, he hears a voice telling him, that what he needs is Nanny McPhee. A day or two later, when the children wreck havoc in the kitchen after having their cook (played by Imelda Marsden), bound and gagged, to the cooking board, Nanny McPhee arrives mysteriously, and contrives to stop the children from destroying the kitchen, and almost burning the baby. Nanny McPhee tells Mr. Brown that she is to teach them 5 lessons and the way she works is that when someone needs her but does not want her, she will stay, but when someone wants her but no longer needs her, she will go. Over the course of the movie, the children not only learn these lessons, but also use their wisdom and affection to change the people around them.

What I found most intriguing is the portrayal of this Nanny. Unlike the other governesses, Nanny McPhee is dressed in black, foreshadowing the mystery that surrounds her. The first impression of Nanny McPhee is stirring: she is horribly ugly. "Ugly". She is big boned, stout, with wrinkle, mottled skin, a large nose that resembles a potato, two huge warts with hairs growing on them, and a large tooth sticking out of her mouth that is "the strangest tooth one ever saw". Everyone is disgusted by her appearance, including Mr. Brown, and to some extent, even the children, though they are more intimidated by her power. When they refuse to obey her, she punishes them until they have to surrender and apologize. When they pretend to be ill with the measles, she gives them a taste of their own medicine and when they are hesitant to mind their Ps & Qs, she shows them the consequences of their actions.

Nanny McPhee is a character of power and fantasy. Her appearance is mysterious and so is her departure in the end. She disappears whenever she pleases and does not seem to reside in her room like any normal nanny, as evidence by Simon's visit to her room. Although she brushes her sudden appearance off as, "I did knock", Mr. Brown (and the viewers) are baffled when we not only don't hear the knock, but are certain she appears from thin air. Like little Tora Brown, we too cannot help noticing when her warts suddenly disappear although the other changes that happen to her are subtle until the end when they are pronounced. Nanny McPhee maintains her power as long as she remains ugly. When thing are set right by the end of the movie, the Nanny acknowledges that she has to depart, and so we no longer are invited into her magic. It is almost as if our ability to live in fantasy ends when the Nanny becomes beautiful. It is as if only an ugly 'witch' can wield magic.

The change in Nanny McPhee's grotesque appearance follows the change in the children. As the latter learn to behave better, Nanny McPhee becomes more beautiful, less hideous. Her warts disappear, along with the ungainly tooth, her sagging skin resumes its elasticity of youth, and her body regains its graceful curves. By the end of the movie, we are left with a glowing, ethereal figure of Emma Thompson, the actress as we know her. She has shed the monstrous exterior of the middle aged Nanny and now plays the role of a fairy-godmother sort of character, for she converts Evangeline, the scullery maid, into a "beautiful princess", a snowy wedding gown in tow, removing the obstacle of the 'evil' woman, the atrocious Mrs. Quickley, so that Mr. Brown is free to marry the girl he has been waiting for and the children can get a rightful second Mama.

As much as the story has a simple fairy tale ending, it questions our sense of beauty and morality. What are we to make of the transformation of Nanny McPhee? Is she really more 'beautiful' in our eyes by the end? And more importantly, I ask, Why is she not allowed to remain ugly through to the end? Why are the children not allowed to see through her exterior and grow to love her for her kindness and sense alone?

The work, both the original story and the adaptation, creates an illusion of beauty in a material sense. By showing the changes in the Nanny's appearance and correlating that with children's behavior, the film suggests that how we view someone depends on what is inside ourselves. When the children were intolerable imps, they could see her as nothing but grotesque. Even Mr. Brown, becasue of his neglect of the children and preoccupation with work, views Nanny in the same light as the children. However, as the household begins to change, Nanny does so as well. When all the lessons are taught and true love enters everyone's hearts, Nanny McPhee turns into a beautiful woman, almost resembling a fairy princess. No one seems to look at her in awe at the end, for they are wrapped up in their own happiness. The film suggests that as people find happiness within themselves, they see everything around them as beautiful. So this begs the question, "So what did Nanny McPhee really look like?" Was she always beautiful but we never viewed her that way in the beginning because we are shown what she looked like through the eyes of the wicked children? Or are the viewers like the children, in that we are flawed to begin with, and are reminded of the injustice present in our own hearts just like the children's?

But I maintain, Why must she turn beautiful in the conventional sense? Even if such a change on the other characters is necessary, why must this manifest in the triumph of conventional standards of beauty? Why is an ugly woman not allowed to win and stay the same?

Is it so, Charlotte?

2006-09-17T20:55:00.000-04:00

Overheard:

"Now Charlotte, she's got a strong libido, that she does"

Reading and Creativity

2006-09-11T21:27:00.000-04:00

Today's post on Bronteana quotes an article by Karen Utley, which posits that the "Imagination deficit could cripple society". Utley analyses the imaginative minds of the Bronte sisters, C.S. Lewis, and Agatha Christie, and concludes that unlike the children in the past who immersed themselves in books, children in the present day are spoon-fed information through high-tech means such as the Internet and video games. She claims that, "[the electronic entertainment industries] saturate young minds with ready-made, pre-imagined adventures", which works to their disadvantage when it comes to their ability to imagine on their own. While she insists on the importance of the Imagination for our survival, she does not present a solution besides deriding the influence of modern technology and declaring that "parents and teachers [should] take defensive action to protect children's imaginations."

I think what Utley suggests in her article, though she doesn't quite phrase it, is that children must have enough exposure to books. They must have other diversions than playing video games or surfing the net. The act of reading and conjuring up pictures in one's head from the words printed on a page is no easy task. The child must have patience and willingness to delve into the world of the book she is reading. As her reading capacity improves, she moves from picture books to classic works of Literature, and as she analyses, she begins to delve deeper into emotions, the human condition. She must imagine to feel, and vice versa. The great works of literature are enjoyed best after close study and this helps sharpen the child's analytical skills.

In contrast, most video games hardly invite such critical analysis, let alone that of human emotions. When a child plays a video game, she isn't invited into imagining a world like she must do when she reads, and instead, the world is provided for her. She is told what she must do to win that 'round', how many points she must get, how many hurdles she must pass, and what she is to expect when she reaches the next 'round'. In a lot of cases, she is told what to expect in the end if she wins, even before she starts the game! There is little complexity in setting, plot, and hardly any character study. The characters are usually static: for example Sonic the Hedgehog is still his happy go lucky self, even if he gets beaten to a pulp by enemies or wins a lottery. We are not invited into his mind or other details that help us perceive his mind in the manner that is found in literature, because this isn't the primary focus of the video game. It's goal is to entertain differently.

TV programs differ from well written books in that the latter demands more engagement with the readers. The reader gets intimate with the characters because of her investment in the story. A lot of TV programs show us what each character looks like, and how they feel; the TV program is someone else's interpretation of a story/event while the book, through intimacy with the reader, directly speaks to the reader without an additional middleman, an additonal barrier. Thus the reader is more involved as a result of the imagination necessary in order to brings the characters to life.

The Imagination has the ability to turn abstract things to reality. Utley argues that, "Progress in arenas from social reform to technological invention would be crippled if people lost their ability to imagine a better world. Tolerance and empathy depend upon the human capacity to imagine all the implications of the Golden Rule." The strength of the imagination depends on the opportunity to engage as much of one's mental capacity to feel as is possible. Life is not merely a video game where dexterity can make or break or score. We live in a world with real people with real emotions. And what better means than good books to teach us of our history, our own natures?

On Illusions

2006-09-07T23:47:00.000-04:00

I always make sure I am armed with at least one book in my (rather large) messenger bag when I set off for work in the morning. The commute is relatively long and besides, reading bits of a good book helps me jump-start my day, giving me glimpses of another world I could inhabit when the monotony of Wold of Work tends to weigh me down, which is often the case. Despite efforts to economize on the contents of my bag, I still manage to retain my uncanny habit of never being able to pack light.As a result, my bag was quite heavy this morning, for it also contained an unopened bottle of water. As I waited to board my train, I pulled out the first book I had brought with me and one one I was on the verge of finishing and started to read it. When I finally reached the end, I felt exhilaration...and relief. I had finally finished this book that I had been reading for over a week now, when it should only have taken me not more than few days. I soon slipped the book back into my bag and waited.

Nothing happened.

My bag was as heavy as ever. Not an ounce of it had changed.

It took me a while to realize that in some strange sense (subconscious, no doubt), I had assumed that finishing the book would have reduced the load in my bag. I had finised reading L.M.Montgomery's A Tangled Web, and I must say that the book was rather heavy in a literary sense, for it was very character-centered. And there were too many characters to keep track of. Untangling the tangled web of mulitple plots in the novel took some energy and when I reached the end of the book, I expected, in scientific terms, to feel the effects of 'work'. I believe I must have confused mental strength with the physical, the tangible. I had expected the literary contents of a book to somehow affect the physical weight of my bag. I had expected a reward and wished it to manifest in the form of easing the physical burden that strained my bones. I had confused the tangible with the intangible.

The results of our mental endeavors are not immediately apparent in the manner of those belonging to their physical counterparts, and can surpass the familiar, the conventional. The pleasures of reading are limitless; Imagination prevails.

Speaking of illusions, another example presented itself while I waited for my train, listening to the audio episodes of the BBC's Jane Eyre starring Ciaran Hinds and Sophie Thompson. Although I did not approve wholly of Thompson for her rendtion of Jane, on account of her unconvincing tone and over-emphasis on the theatrics, I thought her casting proved to be an interesting study. The only other period movie that I happened to watch where Sophie Thompson had a significant role in was Emma. There Thompson played Miss Bates, a nosy but harmless spinster who is mortifyingly snubbed by Emma, while Knightley defends her. Miss Bates is at the margin of her society, lives with her deaf mother, is very plain, poor, and has little prospects. When a rich woman such as Emma snubs her in a public gathering, Mr. Knightley, the kind hearted soul that he is, chides Emma and desires to take sides with Miss Bates. He also takes pity on her family, especially regarding the welfare of her neice Jane Fairfax.

Miss Bates' character, at least outwardly, has similarities to Jane Eyre herself, in both her appearance and station. Having Sophie Thompson play the role of Jane Eyre after she had played the role of Miss Bates, seems, in a strange sense, as if she is telling us another side to Miss Bates' story. We are invited to think of the possiblities that could happen in the life of this otherwise lonely middle-aged spinster. We can't resist asking, What if she was younger? What if she met a man she loved? What if others snubbed her and she still retained her integrity?

In other words, what if Miss Bates was like Jane Eyre?

What does a girl really want?

2006-09-03T22:10:00.000-04:00

Yesterday I happened to watch What A Girl Wants starring Colin Firth and Amanda Byrnes. The movie has all the ingredients of a chickflick, replete with the Cinderella-like ending. However, despite the subtle presence of this fairy tale in many other films, this one has no qualms about projecting it from the very beginning. There is the poor little girl who gets the Royal treatment and wins the admiration of her Superiors. The elements of fantasy include lavish settings, a debutante ball, charming men, ugly sister and nasty (potential) stepmother.

Byrnes plays the role of Daphne, a 15 year-old American teenager who finds out that her father is British and embarks on a life-changing tour to England to reunite with him. On learning her identity, Henry Dashwood's (Firth) life begins to change. An important political figure engaged to a woman with similar leanings, he is on the verge of gaining prominence in the eyes of the public, when Daphne steps into his world. Thereafter, he is enchanted with her free spirit, candor, and simple elegance that is far removed from the superficiality, greed, and the stifling formalities revolving around him. The more he gets to know Daphne, he increasingly becomes frustrated with his present situation, leading to a (predictable) climax, that works to both his and Daphne's favor.

Despite the weak plot, I liked the theme of the little girl searching not only for her father, but for love and acceptance from him. Along the way she manages to teach him important lessons about life and love. While this theme is not uncommon in children's literature, this movie is rather unusual in that it involves a much older protagonist. I still would have approved of this if it wasn't for the fact that the film makers had to sneak in a romantic interest for Daphne. Pairing Dashwood's character with a potential lover is forgvible since he is a middle aged man and the chances are that one is likely to find him attached to someone. However, to do the same for Daphne is unnecessary. I think the story would have worked better if it was about Daphne's finding her father without her also finding a lover.

Learning about, and finding, one's self is a difficult quest that warrants considerable study. Daphne's life back in American lacked something vital: the presence of a strong male figure, a father. So she sets out to find him, to fill this void in her life, NOT to find a boyfriend. I think the mistake with a lot of such movies is that they try so hard to satisify every whim of the viewers. I suppose simply having a teenager seek her father is not enough and they've had to provide her with a boyfriend just to feed our romantic fantasies.

But I ask, How can Daphne possibly give enough of herself to both her father and her boyfriend at that point in her life, while she is only beginning to know each of them? Why could just knowing her father not suffice?

I can't comprehend why the inclusion of a romantic interest is absolutely necessary in the vast majority of movies we see today. We continually see heroines fall in love before they know about themselves. It is almost as if the boyfriend is a temporary relief, not a permanent cure, for their afflictions, especially if these have to do with their own natures. In Daphne's case, she seemed perfectly happy as a young girl, with only the absence of father clouding her happiness. If she is to got to England to find her father, then what role does her boyfriend perform other than being the garnish on the cake?

If a garnish is what is needed, then why should it appear in the form of a boyfriend? Why can it not take the shape of something little related to conventional romance? Like what if Daphne learns more about her English grandmother? Or what if she converses with the Queen? Or better yet, what if she develops a talent for hunting (which the British royals are fond of)? There are thousands of possiblities, and yet, the boyfriend seems to be the popular addition. Even so, such films don't get into any depth of a relationship beside the superfical, such as "Oh his accent is so cute!", or "He is the hottest boy in school!"

Can a girl not want a deeper relationship with her parent? Can a girl not be allowed to discover herself and her personal accomplishments removed from being muddled in love with an equally naive boyfriend? This ending of this films seems to suggest that what a girl wants isn't just the love of her parents, that this is somehow not enough. If her happiness is still incomplete, why should it always be the boyfriend who fills this place?

2006-08-29T09:14:00.000-04:00

Jane Awake

The opals hiding your lids
as you sleep, as you ride ponies
mysteriously, spring to bloom
like the blue flowers of autumn

each nine o'clock. And curls
tumble languorously towards
the yawning rubber band, tan,
your hand pressing all that

riotous black sleep into
the quiet form of daylight
and its sunny disregard for
the luminous volutions, oh!

and the budding waltzes
we swoop through in nights.
Before dawn you roar with
your eyes shut, unsmiling,

your volcanic flesh hides
everything from the watchman,
and the tendrils of dreams
strangle policemen running by

too slowly to escape you,
the racing vertiginous waves
of your murmuring need. But
he is day's guardian saint

that policeman, and leaning
from your open window you ask
him what to dress to wear and
to comb your hair modestly,

for that is now your mode.
Only by chance tripping on stairs
do you repeat the dance, and
then, in the perfect variety of

subdued, impeccably disguised,
white black pink blue saffron
and golden ambiance, do we find
the nightly savage, in a trance.

--Frank O'Hara

2006-08-28T21:49:00.000-04:00

My life has been rather topsy-turvy for the last couple of days. Besides having to make a lot of important decisions, I've had to approach that daunting task of apartment hunting entirely on my own. I can no longer fall back on the college as a safety net, just as much as I had rather not importune my parents any further on my account.

Though draining, the act of having to make inquiries, introductions, and visits to apartments is not without its share of amusements. Some apartment-for-sale ads asked one to introduce one's self in quirky ways. Others had descriptions about the future roommates that looked to me as if I was reading about prospective partners in something like marriage classified ads sections of the newspaper. The initial interviews weren't easy either, for even on the phone, many tenents wished to know about your tastes and opinions. Just when I thought that interviewing for jobs was one of the most tedious things I've done, interviewing for roommates and finding a suitable apartment couldn't be any worse.

I didn't look for too many, thankfully, because I was simply appalled at the condition of the few that I did see. Young people are dreadfully messy and I know I could not live with a smelly room, dusty furniture, cluttered kitchen, noisy surroundings, and I-desperately-wannabe-cool adults. That meant that almost every shared apartment I visited was incompatible with my needs: either the place or the people turned me off it at once.

Again, in my typical fashion, I had a mishap when I was in town. I missed the train once again, but since it was quite late in the night, I didn't know what to do but call up a friend in town and ask to crash in with her for the night. She consented to let me do so at once and there I was, walking for miles and miles, traversing highways, and oogling for paranormal objects (which turned out to be humans) in the pitch-black night, just to get shelter.

I was so exhausted the next day as a result of the previous day's highlights and sleeping poorly in my friend's rather uncomfortable room, but just as my face was contorting into a frown, I saw something that made me smile. There, scribbled on the seat cover in front of me were the words, "I am happy you exist".

This line was one of the most touching I've ever read and whoever wrote it definitly made my day.

The embers of Firelight

2006-08-27T19:37:00.000-04:00

Having been intrigued ever since reading the post on the Bronteblog a while ago, I finally managed to watch Firelight (starring Sophie Marcaeu and Stephen Dillane) after getting a hold of it from the local library.
Here are some observations:

Outwardly, Firelight resembles Jane Eyre. There’s the governess (Miss Elizabeth Lorier), the master of the house with a past (Charles Godwin), a little girl (Louisa), and a housekeeper (Constance). The interior of the house is dark and drab, resembling Thornfield in many productions of Jane Eyre. A secret that connects all of them is at the heart of this story. However, there are significant differences. Unlike the plain Jane Eyre, Elizabeth is ravishingly beautiful, as evidenced by the household’s reaction to her appearance. She manages to attract the elderly Mr. Godwin as well as Charles’ American friend. As opposed to the morally pure union of Jane and Rochester, Charles and Elizabeth consent to an illicit act with the understanding that their actions will contribute toward the greater good, for their main concern is helping their fathers. Instead of the discovery of Rochester’s previous marriage, the ‘secret’ in Firelight is represented by Louisa, who is Charles and Elizabeth’s daughter. While we don’t learn about Bertha till the first half of Bronte’s novel, we are aware of the existence of Charles’ wife from the very first. Mrs. Godwin, presiding as a comatose invalid entombed in a dark chamber, is not a mystery in the manner of Bertha in Jane Eyre. Elizabeth is aware of her existence from the beginning and Louisa is told that she is not her real mother. Charles also brings Elizabeth to visit his wife soon after the former arrives at his house. The governess falls in love with the master of the house despite her awareness of the obstacle to their union, unlike Jane in Bronte’s novel. While half of Jane Eyre takes place outside Thornfield, the bulk of Firelight takes place within Godwin’s estate.

In contrast to Jane Eyre, who unites with Rochester only after going through a pilgrimage of sorts, including finding strength and integrity within herself, Elizabeth’s happiness is largely dependent on others, namely Charles and Louisa. Though it is evident that Elizabeth is trapped at the beginning of the story (her reaction to the waves and the water changes through the course of the movie, thus symbolizing freedom and release. While she starts of with barely a voluble sound, she manages to contrive a scream by the end), we are not sure if the entrapment is a result of an external or internal conflict. Even though she seeks to release her father from prison, we don’t know if this is the one factor that troubles her before she meets Charles. The film does not show us Elizabeth’s inner world. Furthermore, though the film strives to show Charles and Elizabeth falling in love with each other, I was not really convinced on that score. I would have wanted more character development, a glimpse at a reparetee between the two, an intimacy beyond just the physical. The same can be said of Charles, for we are not sure if he is eager to make love to Elizabeth because he is starved for sex on account of being deprived of it due to his wife’s condition, or because he genuinely loves her. Thus, the inclusion of an intellectual connection is necessary so as to clarify the nature of this relationship in the minds of the viewers.

Even though Jane Eyre arrives in Thornfield with excess emotional baggage, her main purpose is to find something for herself (“I care for myself”, she claims). She strives to work for herself and earn a living. She longs to be independent. When she leaves Rochester, one could argue that she did so for fear of being trapped into an imprudent union with him as he had concealed the existence of his wife from her. Jane finds herself destitute and weary at the price of purchasing her independence. Even by the end of the novel, Bronte’s purpose is to show that Jane can only return to Rochester after she has lived amongst other people, worked for herself, and procured a fortune (even if this fortune is bequeathed to her by someone else). Jane’s succeeds at the price of Rochester’s loss of power, for the latter loses his house and is maimed by the end of the novel. Jane’s journey is one of power, control, and independence primarily for herself.

While hints of women’s freedom are present in Firelight, Elizabeth does not seem to practice what she preaches. Though she implores Louisa to learn her lessons because education is one thing no one can take away from a woman, claiming that women are imprisoned by men and Society, Elizabeth’s liberation at the end of the movie is ambiguous. Her means of procuring happiness, quite frankly, lies in winning Louisa’s love, being a mother to her, and being intimate with Charles. Elizabeth came to teach Louisa not because she wanted to exercise her own mind, but rather, to find and teach her child. We don’t know if Elizabeth’s intellectual development was sharpened by any conversations with Charles that dealt with subjects other than Louisa, his wife, and their love. While Elizabeth is a passionate woman, I am not sure if this passion is directed at anything else besides intimacy with a man and mothering a child. I wonder if such a life is what she wanted for Louisa when she told the latter to learn her lessons. How much use would all Louisa’s learning in the schoolroom be if all she does at the end is marry a man of standing and exercises her motherly instincts by watching her child grow? Elizabeth’s identity as a woman is tied to her duty as a wife (or passionate lover rather) and loving mother, and if this what she wants for Louisa as well, then where is the scope for the reform she suggested when she implored Louisa to ‘learn’?

Although it bursts out in flames intermittently, the fire is easily quenched in Firelight. While it does not shy away from exploration of sexual desire, Firelight lacks depth in its character development. This movie had a lot of potential but fell short of reaching them and I believe this is the result of a poor script. All the actors performed their roles very well, including the little girl (Dominique Belcourt) who played little Louisa. Though Elizabeth is the antidote to the unhappiness of the father and loneliness of the child, she is herself a troubled character. With a wealth of rich elements at hand, Firelight only needed a closer working on the writing to turn it into incandescence.

Book Meme!

2006-08-18T10:06:00.000-04:00

Bronteana has tagged me for a Book meme! Thank you Bronteana! :)

1. One book that changed your life:

Tess of the d'Urbervilles by Thomas Hardy. I read it for my Victorian Literature class two years ago, and the book affected me in many ways afterward. I was very moved by Tess's plight, her will to survive despite any obstacle, and the forces (both of the self and Nature) that can tear lives apart. Hardy's descripion of landscape, its tendency to regenerate as well as its cruelty to annihilate, seemed to me a metaphor that extends beyond the precincts of the novel into the depths of human consciousness. I watched the movie (the BBC version starring Justine Waddell) over and over again and people wondered how I could bear to watch something that was, in their opinion, so "depressing". Watching the film showed me that the film (and the novel), wasn't entirely about Tess, or her plight. It was about writing, dialogue, and Art. Somehow Tess's fate didn't seem so gloomy because the novel made her triumph in a strange fashion, in the words between the lines. I was then drawn to Jude the Obscure, although I had been warned that it was "the saddest book in the world". The perserverance of Tess and Sue, their struggle against the obstacles imposed upon them, resonated with me very strongly. It was at this point that I gained more interest in Feminist Literature. Tess of the d'Urbervilles allowed me to ask questions of Jane Eyre, and see it in a different light than what I had been used to previously. This different reading of Jane Eyre lead to reading (and rereading) other works of the Brontes, as their works combined rich landscapes, Nature (both interior and exterior), and acute study of women's inner (and outer) lives. I then wished to pursue Bronte studies.

2. One book that you’ve read more than once:

Several. Most recently, Possession by A.S. Byatt.

3. One book you’d want on a desert island:

Jane Eyre, obviously! :)

4. One book that made you laugh:

About a Boy by Nick Hornby.

5. One book that made you cry:

Tess of the d'Urbervilles

6. One book that you wish had been written.

I wish Charlotte Bronte had finished Emma, for I too found the opening chapters very intriguing. I also wish I could have read Emily's second novel.

7. One book that you wish had never been written.

I think there is a lot to be learnt from any book, so I'd be in support of books being written always, one must read good and bad literature to discern the differences between them.
However, if I had to choose, I'd wish that Claire Boylan had not tried to finish Charlotte Bronte's Emma. I did not like Boylan's re-writing. I believe that perhaps she had rather left Emma alone, for it is indeed possible for a book to be complete in its state of incompletion.

8. One book you’re currently reading:

I generally end up reading several at once. Currently, I capture the Castle by Dodie Smith, Sugar and other stories by A.S. Byatt, and The Arabian Nights.

9. One book you’ve been meaning to read:

Juliet Barker's biography of the Brontes, and I hope to get started on this once I am settled.

10. Now tag five people: I tag Mandy, Cristina, Sophia, Holly, and Frankengirl.

2006-08-16T16:26:00.000-04:00

A Question:
Are we meant to be in support of Jane's relationship with Mr. Rochester or against it?

Does Bronte mean to sympathize with Mr. Rochester, or are her feelings quite the reverse?

A delightful correspondence

2006-08-15T11:42:00.000-04:00

Dear Ms. A__
Thank you so much for your lovely note! It was also a pleasure seeing the Wuthering Heights stamp (it is not every day that one gets so delightful a gift in the mail!).
Lunch at the C__ sounds wonderful! I am available this week and the next. I can also bring along some Bronte art work that I've made, which I am sure you'll find amusing.

My favorite author vacillates between Charlotte and Emily, although there are moments in which I am drawn to Anne. I like all three of them depending on my mood and current situation. I love Emily's poetry the best, however, and she does have a way with words. Her poem "To Imagination" speaks volumes to me, particularly. Charlotte's works resonated with me strongly when I was a student and have had to make my way in the world. Anne's (or Agnes Grey's) patience and fortitude lifts up my spirts too.

I am delighted at the prospect of meeting and talking to you!

Sincerely,
_ _

The above is an exerpt from my correspondence with a fellow Bronte-enthusiast in the area. I can't wait to meet her! This will definitly help satiate the Bronte-hunger I've been feeling increasingly since I've graduated. Ah, there is so much fun in anticipation!

Catherine the Angel?

2006-08-10T11:19:00.000-04:00

A picture of these bears, titled Wuthering Heights, appeared in the Bronteblog this morning. Being a huge fan of stuffed (as in the toy kind), animals and furry friends, I was intially drawn to these well-crafted bears with their pointed snouts, piercing eyes, and furry feel.

I assume that the bears represent Heatchliff (left) and Catherine (right). Heathcliff is considerbly darker, wearing a purple coat, and a hat (or cape) that appears wafted in the wind, almost like purple smoke. The purple, against his brown body, could stand for the heather in the moors. All of these features strive to give the impression of Heathcliff as an exotic gypsy, given to scampering in the moors. He also looks rather cross (no doubt in an attempt to imitate Heathcffian sentiments).

The depiction of Catherine is what I found to be slightly unsettling, however. Catherine appears richhly dressed, with a bodice lined (or smocked) with gold thread. The defining point is that she is white, which contrasts sharply with Heathcliff's brown skin and his darker purple coat. Furthermore, the innocence of her eyes, combined with her white skin and dress, suggests that she is angelic.

But I ask, Is Catherine the elder angelic?

Does this bear represent someone other than Catherine the elder? Do these two bears represent Hareton and Catherine the younger? If so, the latter couldn't be called angelic either.

By portraying Catherine is an angel, is the artist conveying her belief in Catherine's virtue? That perhaps Catherine's fiery temper, her passion, her resistance, must be valued in a society that is otherwise insipid, stale, and not willing to change?. Perhaps this suggests that Catherine's traits are necessary for Reform, when there is not other outlet to procure the latter.

Or does the angelization (if that is a term) of Catherine mean that artists (and many readers alike) would like to tame the real Catherine, that they would accept her only as an angel and not otherwise? Perhaps this means that readers would rather be blinded in their perception of her than admit that she is indecorous, tainted.

If the view of Catherine the elder is changed significantly from the book, if she is made into an angel, how come the same is not done to Heathcliff? How come he manages to retain his gypsy garb, his dark skin, and brooding, cross expression?

Why is it the female who is transformed into an Angel in the House?

Remnants of colonialism?

2006-08-08T21:07:00.000-04:00

The Bronteblog has a recent post regarding an interview with Andrea Galer, who spearheads the Power of Hands Project.
A previous post from the same source states that:

Andrea Galer the woman behind the Power of hands Project has always actively sought to include the work of craftspeople from across the world. As a film and television costume designer her long-held passion for traditional crafts has already taken her to India to work with handloom weavers. In the aftermath of the tsunami she determined to help the Sri Lankan lacemakers whose lives had been devastated. Andrea's collections and film costumes provide ongoing links to the lace, she has used the lace made by tsunami suvivors in her current production 'Jane Eyre' the BBCs big drama this autumn. The lace is also featured in her current bridal collection and she is currently designing the Limited Signature Editions profiling the lace from Galle.

I really think that it's great that she is employing the talents of impoverished women in Tsunami-devasted areas such as Sri Lanka, and giveing them an outlet as well as a means of income. In addition, she is striving to preserve the craft of lace-making, and that is commendable.

However, when considered in light of the production of Jane Eyre, this matter raises a different set of questions. We cannot ignore the fact that Bronte's novel was indeed written in the 19th century, when British Imperialism dominated South Asia, including Sri Lanka. And poor craftswomen making laces for those in the aristocracy would have been the norm back then. This situation seems to be strangely repeated if we think that the poor women in Sri Lanka are making laces for the likes of Blanche Ingram (although she is fictional, she is relatively wealthy and haughty). In some sense, through merging fact and fiction, it seems to me as if history is repeated, as if times havent' changed at all.

On Mrs. Rochester

2006-08-07T01:05:00.000-04:00

"Yet, whatever Charlotte's original conception of the character may have been, some men clearly still feel threatened by Bertha. In 1999, the distinguished politician Roy Jenkins described Margaret Thatcher as the 'great incubus of John Major's premiership, comparable with Mr Rochester's mad wife in Jane Eyre.' The first Mrs. Rochester, it seems, has resonance today as an emblem of power"

--Lucasta Miller, The Bronte Myth

Lucasta Miller's assertion about Bertha is intriguing.
I too confess to having varied reactions toward Bertha. When I was really young, I would be intimidated by the vision of her as an unsympathetic secret that threatens to destroy any peace the heroine (Jane) might harbor. Somehow, this impression of Bertha has changed little over the years, although I've definitely grown to sympathize with her character. She is not really evil. How can she be if she is mentally unstable? How can she be accountable for her actions if is not aware of them? Rochester claims that Bertha was unchaste from the first and this frustrates him greatly. But how can one continue to blame her if she progresses into madness? However unacceptable her habits might have been in the past, she deserves pity after her state of mental collapse. This is not to say that Rochester did not treat her well. He did not throw her out on the streets, and neither did he banish her to an asylum. He chose to look after her by means of employing a servent,Grace Poole.

However, the most important question is, How mad is Bertha?

Though she might be "mad", she still intimidates everyone around her, specifically Jane and Rochester. Is it Bertha's madness or her presence that threatens others? There is enough evidence to support both. Bertha's madness is striking because it also means that she is a danger to those around her, in case she commits a hasty action she has no knowledge of.

However, Bertha's presence is also intimidating because besides being Rochester's wife, she is also a foreigner, one with the potential of
charming [the] English gold from [the] British breeches' pocket". Thus she threaten's Jane desire of uniting with Rochester. She also challenges Victorian ideals of conjugal bliss, in that she raises questions about domestic harmony, equality of the spouses, divorce and property laws, and the "woman question".

In this sense, the powerless become powerful, because the others around them are faced with how to deal with them. The powerless challenge established norms and, through their inability, help open up much needed paths of Reform in Society.

2006-08-05T00:24:00.000-04:00

"Miss Austen and Thackeray have admirers; Charlotte Bronte has worshippers"
--a statement found in a newspaper from the latter half the nineteeth century. Quoted in Lucasta Miller's The Bronte Myth.

2006-08-03T14:49:00.000-04:00

You are young. So you know everything. You leap
into the boat and begin rowing. But, listen to me.
Without fanfare, without embarrassment, without
any doubt, I talk directly to your soul.
Listen to me.
Lift the oars from the water, let your arms rest, and
your heart, and heart’s little intelligence, and listen to me.
There is life without love. It is not worth a bent penny,
or a scuffed shoe. It is not worth the body of a dead dog
nine days unburied.
When you hear, a mile away and still out of sight, the churn of the water as it begins to swirl and roil, fretting around the sharp rocks-when you hear that unmistakable pounding-when you feel the mist on your mouth and sense ahead the embattlement, the long falls plunging and steaming-then row, row for your life toward it.

-Mary Oliver from West Wind

2006-08-02T23:02:00.000-04:00

Today was quite eventful, and I am suprised I am awake at this time to write it. It was HOT, HOT, did I say, HOT today! The worst I've ever experienced. And on top of that, I had an interview to go to, for which, in my typical fashion, I got lost again, having misunderstood the directions (or misinformed, rather). And there I was, walking in the wrong path again, this time lugging my heavy interview bag containing those dreaded interview shoes, wearing a suit that made me feel like boiled mashed potato, and my hair having bloated up to into a mushroom of frizz, literally glued all over my face. And all of this in such a weather!! I even feared I might drop any moment (and I think would have prefered it secretly) because I thought I felt the blood pounding in my veins and my head threatening to drive me dizzy with spinning.

Thankfully, that did not happen and I found the place, although I was about 15 minutes late. However, unlike that fussy, uptight law firm, this place proved more forgiving. In fact, I wonder if they noticed my delay at all. The interview was long but I think it went well and I feel like I heard optimistic vibes from the other party. However, the Director wanted me to start one of his programs this week, and in utter confusion, I mumbled an affirmative answer. Only five minutes after I left the building did I realize the implications of my hasty decision. I ran back into the building, inquired after the director, and told him that I had had some time to think over his propostion and that I would like to request more time to make a decision before I commit to anything. He looked at me with an extremely vexed look on his face and asked me, hesitatingly, if anything had happened in those 5 minutes to make me react this way. I replied politely that my agreeing so hastily at first was only a blunder and I would be wise to take time to comprehend the matter further. I think his quizzical stare might have sprung from another source, however. In the heat of the moment (no pun intended), not only had I stripped myself of my blazer, leaving me with a shirt with hints of dampness, but I also realized I was shamefully caught red-handed (or footed, if I maybe allowed the expression) wearing my comfy (red rimmed) flip-flops, instead of those formal shoes, which I am ever eager to dispose of instant I step out of a building where I had interviewed.

The faux-pas didn't bother me so much. Very little would have disconcerted me in that sweltering heat, except the HEAT itself. I decided to cool myself with an iced-latte, an indulgence I permit myself to partake in ocassionally. Afterward, I hung around in town for a while, having been tempted to pacify myself through a bout of shopping. Really, I was angry at the weather. I was fuming (literally, no doubt). I returned to my little abode safely in one piece and I had some time to actually relax and write this without panicking about how fast the time flew today. The train ride was relatively quiet, undisturbed by odd gentlemen, or wailing children and their mollycoddling parents.

I shall now attempt to not dwell on the myriad things I have to do (including whether I should go to another interview later this week), and instead focus on getting some much needed rest.

A Meme

2006-07-31T20:58:00.000-04:00

1. How tall are you barefoot? 5'2" and a little bit.
2. Have you ever been unfaithful in a relationship? I believe not.
3. Do you own a gun? No.
4. If you had a mental disorder, what would it be? Something resembling Lucy Snowe's.
5. How many letters are in your crush's name? What crush?
6. What do you think of hot dogs? They are edible, and occasionally delicious.
7. What's your favorite Christmas song? No particular favorite.
8. What do you prefer to drink in the morning? Coffee.
9. Do you do push-ups? Have done in the past.
10. Have you ever done ecstasy? No.
11. Do you have a boyfriend/girlfriend? Of course I have friends ;)
12. Do you like the rain? Yes, mostly.
13. Are you in love? With what?
14. Do you like creamy or crunchy peanut butter? I am not fond of peanut butter.
15. Do you have A.D.D? No idea.
16. Full initials? :P
17. Name 4 thoughts at this exact moment.
- I am very nervous about prospective interviews/future
- I want to get a dose of Jane Eyre tonight to calm my nerves.
- It is frightfully HOT in my room.
- I must do more reading and plan for what is ahead.
18. Name the last 3 things you have bought in the past week.
- Another pair of flip-flops.
- Groceries.
- Interview necessities.
19. Favorite movie? Changes often..anything that makes me think a lot.
20. What time did you wake up today? 8 ish.
21. Can you spell? I would hope so.
22. Current worry? Being indecisive about an interivew.
23. Current hate? The fact that I haven't done anything substantially creative in days..or weeks, rather.
24. Favorite place to be? In my Imagination.
25. Least favorite place to be? Current state of joblessness/uncertainty.
26. Where would you like to go? Ireland.
27. Do you own slippers? Yes.
28. Where do you think you'll be in 10 yrs? I hope to be doing something I love. (No doubt my parents expect me to be married by then..sigh).
29. Do you burn or tan? A bit of both.
30. Yellow or blue? Depends.
31. Would you be a pirate? Perhaps.
32. Last time your phone rang? This evening.
33. What songs do you sing in the shower? None.
34. As a child, what did you fear was going to get you at night? Everything ghastly imaginable.
35. What's in your pockets right now? Which pockets?
36. Last thing that made you laugh? Can't remember.
37. Best bed sheets you had as a child? I can't remember..I don't think there was a favorite.
38. Worst injury you've ever had? Scar obtained as a result of trying to jump over barbed wire when I was about 8 yrs old.
39. What is/was your GPA? Confidential :P
40. How many TVs do you have in your house? 1
41. Who is your loudest friend? None of them are loud.
42. Who is your most silent friend? Me or maybe my friend A.
43. Does someone have a crush on you? Not likely.
44. Do you wish on stars? Yes.
45. What is your favorite book? Villette, Jane Eyre.
46. What song did you last hear? Probably something mellow on the radio.
47. Who is the last person you kissed? In what sense?
48. What's your all-time favorite memory with your significant other? No grounds for that.
49. What were you doing at midnight last night? Blogging probably.
50. What was the first thing you thought of when you woke up? Ah, another day!

To Tame a Shrew?

2006-07-31T01:27:00.000-04:00

Along with being portrayed as demons, witches, and temptresses, women have also been portrayed as fiesty creatures, in need of being 'tamed'. This fact was blatantly obvious when I had a chance to observe a production of Shakespeare's "The Taming of the Shrew" this weekend.

I was excited to see this play. Firstly, because I had enjoyed it very much when I read it as a twelve year old, and secondly, becuase I had heard that this version would have a 'modern' twist and I hoped for an interesting adaptation.

I was disappointed on both counts.

I found that I have changed so much and come a long way since I was 12. Whereas Petruchio's treatment of Katherine and his method of changing her used to amuse me, now I could hardly endure more than a few minutes of his cruelly misogynistic behavior. For he was a misanthrope! Being almost half her height taller than her, and of a larger build, he over powered Katherine from the start. She had no say in the marriage, and no support from her father, who only wished to get rid of her because he feared she had little prospects for marriage. So here she was literally sold off to a man, who desired her dowry more than herself. And then her husband turns out to be a worse terror in that he deals harshly instead of gently with her. I agree that Katherine is the type of woman who needed something harsh to set her right. I agree that she misbehaved badly before her marriage. She was too cross and could hardly ever have a decent conversation without wrecking the house. However, her husband's tactic involved making her meek and submissive. At the end of the play, Katherine shows all the women and men around her that she is the most obedient wife, for she listens to all her husband's commands without question. She tells the women in the room that a woman must always obey her husband because he works so hard and loves her so much while she languishes in her home, being pampered by the fruit of his hard work. She warns women to not be angry, but be pliant and accepting. She tells them that ire would get them no where. I understand that a woman, or anyone, should not go around destroying everything and wrecking havoc verywhere in the manner that Katherine did. However, what kind of punishment is it when all her fire is quenched at the end? When all we are left with is a little puppet, who listens to all that he husband tells her, because he has so much control over her? What kind of woman is she who has no opinons of her own? Is she then not a toy to be used for the sole purpose of giving pleasure to a man?

I felt like Katherine had died at the end, even though everyone applauded her conduct and esteemed her as fine example of virtous womanhood. When the play ended, the audience clapped wildly. I didn't know what to do.

After the play ended, my friend (who was just as furious with the whole episode as I was) and I happened to spot the director mingling with other guests. We walked up to him and inquired as to what his thoughs were about the message in the play, and how he hoped it would address a modern audience. He replied saying that Katherine wasn't wholly submissive, that she still maintained a sly way of dealing with Petruchio's commands, that she was not innocent as she seemed by the end. We told him that the play didn't show enough of what he claimed. When he insisted that Katherine could only marry Petruchio and that they were equals, I mentioned that Petruchio always had the upper hand, for he always knew how to deal with Katherine. Whereas Katherine had to obey him by the end if she is to live peaceably with him. Petruchio could be cunning or not if he wished but Katherine could not because she had no way out.

As for the 'modern twist', the setting was America in the 50s. I suppose one could say that this was an age before the feminist revival of the 60s. Does it still mean that we can accept the social mores that were being implied in the play? Katherine speaks to the audience at the end about submission and obedience toward her husband. Are we meant to take this as invaluable advice for all time? Or are we meant to think of it as the speech of a repressed 50s housewife, and be glad that we are living in a different time?

More importantly, how far have we changed? It is contemporary actors who played those roles. I wonder what thoughts run through their minds when they perform this play.

Mistress of Magic

2006-07-26T23:02:00.000-04:00

Griffin and Sabine by Nick Bantock isn't an easily forgettable book. If one has the pleasure to read it, it won't fail to mesmerize! The first book, called Griffin and Sabine is followed by two sequels called Sabine's Notebook and The Golden Mean and they can be enjoyed together as a trilogy. However, each book is very unconventional and it is this unconventionality that makes it stand out. The story is told through a series of fantastical pictures on post cards, and letters that the protagonists exchange between one another (which incidentally we, the readers, will find enclosed in beautifully decorated envelopes glued between the pages). In such a way, we are drawn into a most intimate correspondence that provokes our voyeuristic desires, for we are caught in the trap of the forbidden act of reading someone else's letter, and enjoying it in the process.

The premise of the story is that Griffin Moss, an artist living in modern day London receives a post card in the mail from a woman called Sabine Strohem who lives in an island in the South Pacific. What is puzzling is that she seems to know all about Griffin and his work while he does not at all know of her existence, and moroever, has never met her. As their correspondence takes flight, and each wishes to learn more of, and visit each other, they find obstacles on their paths to unite with each other, leaving them unable to be with each other in the same place and point in time, until the end, which I will not give away.

What struck me about this book is the depiction of the female protagonist. The author, a male, has sought to portray her as a Creature of Magic instead of an earthly human being. It is Sabine who contacts Griffin first, and not the other way round. While Griffin had normal parents and was brought up as any other human being, Sabine is a mystery from the very beginning. She lives in an island, whereby we are introduced to her exotic nature. Moreover, she does not know of her parents or how she even came to exist, for her adoptive island parents had found her one day as an abandoned baby. It is Sabine who can see Griffin and his work, while Griffin cannot see hers, although she too is a talented artist, if not prolific as he is. As the story progresses, we learn that Griffin is enchanted with Sabine, and eventually, cannot go on without corresponding with her. He claims that she becomes his only source of joy in his otherwise lonely existence.

Griffin is seduced by Sabine, by whatever she represents, whether Magic, Art, Reality, or Desire. By the end of the third book, we feel a sense of eeriness and unease about Sabine. We are more confused about her identity and her purpose. My question is, why did the author make Sabine, a woman, as the creature who seduces a man? Why couldn't it have been the other way round whereby a Man of Magic seduces a human woman? Though she is given supernatural gifts, she is filled with mystery and elicits fear so that we are not sure if she is the ideal lover or the ideal nightmare.

In this sense, Grffin and Sabine resembles the demon lovers of the Romatic poems, such as Coleridge's Christabel and Keats' La Belle Dame Sans Merci. It seems that men were (and are still) obsessed with the different extreme shades of women. According to them, a woman can be just as beautiful as she can be vicious. But I wonder why they view women as creatures composed of these extremes. Can a woman not be a little of both? Can a woman not be allowed to have a moderation of feelings? Can the woman not be beautiful without having evil tendencies? Can the woman not be viewed as good without being evil?

If men were scared of magic, then why were they (primarily such poets) fascinated with ethereally beautiful women? If they wanted to stay away from magic, thinking it is wrong, why not marry a woman who is less beautiful? It seems to me that these men chased after what they believed to be Beauty, which according to Keats, is truth. However, absolute Beauty does not exist, for Beauty is mixed with its opposite; It is impossible to "unperplex bliss from its neighbour pain". And so, when poets imagine an ideal woman, they intially desire her to be beautiful, but this overwhelmes them in some manner and so she is imagined as a demon.

But what is the casue of this uncertainty in men? Why should men create a demon of a woman? Are they afraid of women? What about women frightens them? Are they afraid of women or of their own natures? Perhaps they cannot get what they desire for themselves (for example, ambition) and so blame the woman as the source of their failure. This story is not unfamiliar, beginning with the Biblical tale of the Original Sin.

Ironically Griffin needs Sabine just as much as she needs him. The books will not exist without Sabine, without her Magic. We would not know of Griffin's art if it wasn't for Sabine. Sabine is the source of a man's Art. Men need women to fuel their imaginations, to fuel their Art, to live. In the same vein, the poems about demon lovers by the Romantics would not exist without the mystery women, for these women weild such power, the power to transcend men's impulse to vilify them, as well as the power to transcend time.

2006-07-25T22:56:00.000-04:00

I had yet another interview yesterday and spent almost the whole day in town again. To my surprise, I found the place quite easily, as opposed to the other times when I've jumped into the wrong train or walked for miles on the wrong street. The building was centrally located so I found it faster. Once again, I think the interview went...fine. I mean, there wasn't much I could have added and there wasn't much I didn't know about the job. Basically, they informed me frankly, "It is very unglamarous, but it has got to be done". Ah well..I guess one would say that it has got to start somewhere, right? That I will be doing an entry-level job and then moving higher. Although I complain often now during the summer that I don't have enough time to read and study for my GREs, I think it'd be even harder if I get a full-time job that's tedious. This summer job is not stressful and I do have lovely supervisors who I can converse with: One's a Jane Eyre fan, and the other recommended some interesting books for me to read.

Well If I didn't escape a mishap in getting to the town, I did encounter one on the way back. I took a train back but it was only after I got in that I realized that it was an express train and went on another route. So there I was, sandwiched between two odd gentlemen, an rather obese one on my left who was snoring, and another fiercly sombre one working intently on his laptop. All this time I was trying to drink my coffee instead of spilling it on my new suit (which I had purchased after my interview), or on the man's laptop or the other man's pants. How I had the patience and nerve to not falter, I cannot fathom but I made it...to the wrong stop that is. So I got down, and waited for the train back to the town. Thankfully, it stopped at my very own station on the way to town so it turned out well in the end.

Oh but there is more, for we endured 2 more fire alarms yesterday, and then my friend FINALLY decided she was willing to watch 1 hour of Jane Eyre and we watched it together. She did dislike the acting of the kids who played Young Jane and the Reeds and I was so embarassed for them. I assured her that the movie got better when the adults stepped in. However, poor Rochy falls off his horse when episode 1 ends so that is all the glimpse she got of him yesterday. I find Jane Eyre to be like something like a familiar friend..like something that might ground me in reality.

A Project: The Hallam Letters

2006-07-25T16:24:00.000-04:00

I am really excited! A week ago, one of my supervisors suggested that I read Byatt's Angels & Insects and just as I had finished half of the book (the Novella titled Morpho Eugenia)and was looking forward to watching the movie starring Kristen Scott-Thomas, I was told that I could work on a project that connects with this novel!

My supervisor had a visitor who asked to get information about Arthur Henry Hallam, and my supervisor asked her to get my assistance, saying that I was "very much" into the Romantics. So they asked me to write an article about the letters written by Arthur Henry Hallam to his beloved Emily (Emilia) Tennyson, who was the sister of Lord Alfred Tennyson! I was so excited that I didn't know what to even say for a few minutes. Thinking of the letters (and getting a chance to look and feel some of the originals) makes me feel so deliciously giddy! Oh I could almost feel myself stepping back in time...

Ned-spotting!

2006-07-21T15:23:00.000-04:00

On a trip to a Museum, a friend and I found this waistcoat on display! The instance I glanced at it, I was convinced it was perfect for Edward! (Rochester, that is). Impulsively, I lunged and hugged the display cabinet! ^_^ It truly felt like his very coat, pocket watch and staff. Just a little sliver of light illuminating the velvet sheen was enough to make the waistcoat and the wearer come alive!

Sadly there is no snapshot of me embracing the cabinet, but my friend did manage to capture this. Isn't it splendid!

"I am not deceiful"

2006-07-21T09:53:00.000-04:00

A brief discussion and yesterday's post on Bronteana about Rochester's appearance and our subsequent reaction toward him, made me wonder about Jane's credibility as a narrator.

The novel, as we know it, is called an Autobiography, and it is written by Jane herself, many years after the events in the novel have taken place. Jane's first impression of Rochester is as follows:

"I traced the general points of middle height and considerable breadth of chest. He had a dark face, with stern features and a heavy brow; his eyes and gathered eyebrows looked ireful and thwarted just now; he was past youth, but had not reached middle-age; perhaps he might be thirty-five. I felt no fear of him, and but little shyness. Had he been a handsome, heroic-looking young gentleman, I should not have dared to stand thus questioning him against his will.."

At the same time, she contradicts herself by saying, "I had hardly ever seen a handsome youth; never in my life spoken to one."

How can she know what an "ugly" man on earth is really is like if she had not met a handsome one?

Moreover, she goes on to claim that, "I had a theoretical reverence and homage for beauty, elegance, gallantry, fascination;"

So she says that her opinion on Beauty is based on theory. Her use of the word "theoretical" suggests that theory can differ from reality, although she might expect everything in reality to follow from theory. If Jane had not met with a handsome man, then chances are she had not met with an ugly one either because her views on Beauty (and its counterpart, Ugliness), are both based on theory--not reality. If Jane had not met many men, then how can she fairly comment on Rochester's looks without comparing him to many other men?

My other concern about Jane is that, as idealistic as she might be, she is not free of human cares, such as jealousy and obsession. Jane does feel immensely jealous towards Blanche and exaggerates the discrepancy in appearances by executing portraits of both Blanche and herself. In fact, she does demean Blanche in the novel instead of exempting from describing her. Even though Jane has a right to be angry at Blanche's superficiality and greed, this same jealousy could propel her to misrepresent Rochester as well. For example, it is possible for her to want to protect him from the discerning minds of the readers, as well as their imaginations, by calling him "ugly". This could keep readers who might be attracted to his physical beauty away from him.

Another matter of note is that Jane's writing about her first impression of Rochester several years after she met him. In this sense, I wonder how accurate her memory is. Because Memory tends to get distorted over time, and Jane is, after all, producing a work of creative non-fiction, I wonder how far she is playing the role of an artist manipulating the information around her for the purpose of her craft. In that case, perhaps Rochester is as much an object in the hand of the artist, as much as the fantastical paintings she creates at Lowood.

Despite the incongruities in Jane's narration, I maintain that the novel remians a powerful work of fiction precisely because it invites these kinds of questions. Thanks to this kind of inquiry, we, the readers, are at liberty to imagine a Rochester, including his appearance, to suit our desires.

To speak or not to speak?

2006-07-16T02:13:00.000-04:00

I've come to realize how much the act of talking to several people of my aquaintance tires me. I can probably name not more than eight people off the top of my head with whom I can have sustained, rewarding conversations. The rest is like smoke in mirrors. These rarely leave a significant trace in the footpaths of Memory, or an imprint of Consciousness in the Heart.

I don't want to be sitting and smiling and saying and listening to things I have little interest in when I'd much rather use that time to do something more interesting, like reading, or watching and interpreting a good film, or being alone pondering things, or having good discussions with people. Basically, I prefer analysis than just descriptions. Often,however, I feel like most people are unwilling to steer towards the former than the latter.

An aquaintance remarked, while we discussed this topic, that having the ability to mingle with a variety of people is an indication of a good education. She said that there is always something one can find in common with someone else.

But I wonder. Why should one listen to things that bores them, when they want to do something else? Why should one put up with something merely for the sake of schmoozing? If one's purpose in life is to dissect everyone else's comments, then this method of talking works, but if that is not the case, then why can't one be allowed to be selectively "sociable"? If one talked to everyone at the same rate, then where is the scope for a marked preference (or the reverse) for one or the other? Surely one must be able to like some things more than others. I don't understand why there is so much pressure to act "nice" all the time. I am by no means advocating for someone to be outrightly cross, but rather that one ought to be free to choose, ignore when necessary, and to love freely.

Because our energies are limited, I wonder if an excess of something (like ambition) can exist without an equal excess of something else (like suffering, isolation, ignorance, or pity).

Reconstructing Emma.

2006-07-12T01:54:00.000-04:00

I finished reading Emma Brown by Clare Boylan a few days ago and I’ve been trying to unearth some of its mysteries, if it should have any. I am actually finding it hard to say much about it at present. I feel like the book was neither profound nor easily dismissible. It felt mediocre, although I am not sure if this was crafted for this end.

I must, however, applaud Clare Boylan for taking on such an ambitious project that involved trying to complete Charlotte Bronte’s unfinished fragment Emma. The book has sufficient evidence regarding the amount of research she must have done in order to write it. She has reviewed almost all of Charlotte’s novels, as well as studied biographies on the Brontës. I think, however, that the book would have worked better if she had written her story removed from that of Charlotte’s, if she had not intended to complete Charlotte’s tale. Let’s face it, Boylan is not Bronte, and never will be, though she’s quite a decent writer. When readers read her book, they cannot help but compare her work to Charlotte Bronte’s, and then they detect the deficiencies, which evolve into a feeling bordering on annoyance that turns into nonchalance. As I read her novel, I kept expecting Charlotte’s witty prose, mixed with the right amount of snark and sympathy. I suppose the mystery aspect is fulfilled by the Emma’s past, though not in the manner found in Charlotte’s novels. Emma’s mystery does not affect any of the characters in the way that the laugh in Thornfield affects Jane or the presence of the Nun affects Lucy. Also, Boylan spends too much time in having things “happen” rather than adequately developing the characters or delving into intricacies within the plot itself. In short, her work lacks complex writing, for she is too busy with actions than symbols.

I think the biggest difference in Boylan’s work, compared to Charlotte’s, is lack of the allusion to the Imagination. All of Charlotte’s works contains some reference to the Imagination, some puzzle that teases the readers. For example, it manifests as Bertha in Jane Eyre, as the Nun in Villette, as Shirley Keeldar’s devoir in Shirley, and last but not least, as Francis’ exercises in The Professor. Each of Charlotte’s most studied works, namely Jane Eyre and Villette, contain strong sense of mystery tied to women’s freedom, and Charlotte’s tactic lies in her subtlety of expression. In her world, the troubles seethed closer to home, one didn’t need to turn to the streets of London in order to see the deprecation. Emma Brown, while expanding on social concerns, does not convey this sense of subtlety in the same manner.

There is the mystery that is Emma’s past, but I found it difficult to discern whether this is directly linked to any of the characters’ own struggles. Mrs. Chalfont seems to have had a peaceful childhood, despite her poverty (in the style of Agnes Grey) and has a Jane Eyre-like romance, only to be disappointed. Unlike Jane and Lucy, however, Isabelle seems to give in too much, which reminds me of Anne Bronte’s heroines more than any of Charlotte’s. Also, things seem to happen much more abruptly for Mrs. Chalfont: she takes in a homeless waif, and puts up with sour-tempered headmistresses in a heroic fashion, except we are not sure of why exactly she is doing all this. In short, I didn’t sense any passionate outburst in her. As for Emma, she is presented more as a harmless victim than as an active participant. Although she is given quite a few witty lines, Emma reminds me more of the likes of The Little Princess than any Jane Eyre. It is significant to note that Ms. Boylan wrote about different classes of people,and her portrayal of the social divide was too conspicuous. There’s Mrs. Chalfont, the placid middle class woman, there are the Misses Wilcox, the bitter old-maids, there’s poor little Emma, the victim of the ills of society, and the list can go on. The trouble is, this would have worked in a Brontean setting, like I have mentioned scores of times above, if we had been provided more details into the nuances of the characters. These characters seem very Dickensian than Brontean; one dimensional.

However, the social commentary is commendable. Boylan does exert considerable effort in order to bring the streets of Victorian London to life. She goes back and forth between different classes of people in order to highlight the differences between classes: we are given a glimpse into the home of a rich girl and immediately drawn to poor Emma’s travails on the streets at night. Also, while she might not express women’s frustration on a deeper level, she does manage to show the dangers that can befall a penniless young girl on the streets. She brings to awareness the inheritance law, the Poor Law, and the lack of employment opportunities open to women. In addition, she handles the subject to sexual and domestic abuse in the context of Victorian times, quite well.

The ending of Emma Brown strongly resembles that of Villette, where the reader is perpetually left in doubt. In both these novels this sense of doubt is what sustains them in the end. We are not really sure of Mrs. Chalfont’s sentiments toward her lovers and we question Lucy Snowe’s strange choice of words at the end. The power in mystery brings me to the question that is at the heart of my feelings for this novel: Should Emma Brown be written as a continuation of Charlotte’s novel, or is the latter best left alone, incomplete. We don’t know the circumstances that lead to Charlotte not writing more than the first two chapters of Emma. We don’t even know if she willingly chose to do so. We don’t know if, like in Villette, she wanted to end the fragment with mystery. She didn’t give us more insight into the character of Matilda Fitzgibbon, and for a good reason. We are left perpetually in doubt. Though Charlotte’s work is called "Emma, a fragment”, its incompleteness is perhaps, paradoxically, what makes it complete. I believe that the piece could be enjoyed in its present state, and that no completion is necessary by any other author, even if that author herself chose to end her novel in a similar manner. Though Boylan’s novel’s triumph lies in presenting a case for the plight of the poor in Victorian England, it also recognizes the tantalizing nature of leaving questions unanswered. While she attempts to imitate Charlotte Bronte, she also strays away from her purpose, for she tries to answer a question that Charlotte probably meant to be left forever mysterious.

"I am a Creature of My Pen"

2006-07-05T19:19:00.000-04:00

I finished re-reading A.S.Byatt's Possession over a week ago, but I have not yet stopped dwelling on it. Just when I think I have given it enough thought, it surprises me, teases me with its richness, its language, its complicated characters, and Romantic sensibilities in the literary sense. In short, Possession is a novel that continues to delight readers through the sheer volume of questions it raises. Byatt's depth of plot is neatly woven into the intricacies of her language. The book is filled with poetry, prose and everything in between. The chracters are complicated, but I found myself much more interested in the words they exchanged; I was far too engrossed in the literary scene created by Byatt's pen. I found that the book hasn't ceased to possess me, for once I step into its pages, it is hard to pull back and face Reality that is our present age.

I was struck by one of the poems in the novel, for it made me question the Art of Writing itself. I did a little excercise in order to understand this riddle, and I'd welcome any readers of this blog to try it as well. So here it is:

I read this poem, which is found in the novel, written by a fictional poet Randolph Ash, addressed to a lady (who is hitherto mysterious).

They say that women change: 'tis so: but you
Are ever-constant in your changefulness,
Like that still thread of falling river, one
From source to last embrace in the still pool
Ever-renewed and ever-moving on
From first to last a myriad water-drops
And you -- I love you for it -- are the force
That moves and holds the form.

When I substituted the word men for the word women the poem read as follows:

They say that men change: 'tis so: but you
Are ever-constant in your changefulness,
Like that still thread of falling river, one
From source to last embrace in the still pool
Ever-renewed and ever-moving on
From first to last a myriad water-drops
And you -- I love you for it -- are the force
That moves and holds the form.

I then showed these two poems to an (unsuspecting) friend of mine and asked her to read them both and tell me which in her opinion seems a "better" poem and which she prefered. She said the first one appealed to her more. I then asked her to give her reasons for why she thought so and she replied, "The first one seemed like it was really addressed to a woman and as I read it I pictured myself as the woman the poem was addressed to. That poem somehow 'spoke' to me." I asked her why she didn't like the second poem as much and she said, "It didn't sound natural somehow. It didn't sound like it could be addressed to a man". I prodded and pried her to expand on her reasons, to give me more concrete evidence to suppliment her claims, but she couldn't come up with any, except the fact that she thought women were more likely to be associated with change, and then she proceeded to give me an example of an Opera where men accused women of changing.

What I imagined as a small riddle turned out to be a larger, intricate puzzle, for my friend and I talked about the matter for a long time, unable to comprehend if there was even a solution. Why is it that ONE word should make a world of a difference in the appreciation of a poem? Why should the shift in gender affect the meaning of the poem? Should it change our pereception of the poem?

I came to the conclusion that perhaps we find the poem more "feminine" because of the density of references to water. Water, being regenerative, life-giving, and nourishing, mimics the nature of a woman, who gives birth and nurtures her young and others around her. But then, what elements constitute the "masculine" if water constitutes the feminine? Air? Earth? Fire? And Why should gender restrict elements in this way, and vice versa? Why, despite the phrase, "The force that moves and holds the form", do we still think that the poem is addressed to a woman by a man? Can the force not mean a man's force?

Why are women considered changeful? (Even Rochester calls Jane a "wicked changeling"), and men the seats of constancy? Are women's affections so fickle? Although I don't necessarily agree, I applaud Anne Elliot (of Persuastion) for trying to argue against this notion of the feeble nature of women's affections at a time when women's constacy was severely doubted, for she claimed that women love longer and stronger than men. Surprisingly, times haven't changed for yet another friend told me today that "it is generally assumed that women are more disposed to change more easily than men, as the latter are more constant, more "strong" in thier resolves".

This labeling of women as "changeful" creatures, unable to stick to their decisions and obey an order, has got to change. I am surprised at how little has changed since
ancient times. According to Paradise Lost it is Eve's susceptiblity to temptation that led to the Fall. She is supposed to have given in when Adam did not, to the temptings of Satan. While she broke the ordained law, she also gratified her curiosity, for it is the eagerness for knowledge that led her to committ such an act. It does not mean she can never be constant in her resolve. She never stopped loving Adam.

I found this poem by Byatt even more interesting because it is written by her, a woman, in the style of a male poet writing to his female muse. What does it mean for a writer who is female to have done so? How are we to interpret this act as readers?

On the nature of Adventures

2006-07-02T10:42:00.000-04:00

I went kayaking for the first time yesterday with a bunch of other people who also happen to live in my building. And I must say I LOVED it!! Simply being on that vast, serene lake was freeing in itself. Although I had 3 other people kayaking with me, I felt quite alone and content. All I had to think about when working as a team, was the synchronized paddling and the odd small talk now and then. Otherwise, they left me alone, alone to myself to wonder and muse and dream. The best part about the trip was how many paths we had available for us to go: we could go in any direction we wanted, cross any way we pleased, pass any tunnel, and still come out safe and reach our point of departure. The almost endless stretch of water which took me to distant places (even if it is a shaded wood or a peek at someone's private beach), which would not stop me from traveling if I chose, and yet buoyed me up should I fall or choose to float, filled me with such pleasant thoughts, that I ceased to think of all the myriad things that weigh on me in that most uncooporative World of Work. While the sea is overpowering and insistent, the lake is active in its own way. It is quiet, but potent. It is serene, but nurturing. It is calm but challeging in its isolation. Above all, it allowed me to step in its waters and give myself completely up to nature for a few hours. Also, wherever we paddled there were interesting sights to see: whether it was another sailing boat, a family kayaking for the first time, a deserted hut, or a little waterfall. In any case, I was certainly not tired (except when the muscles in my arms ached due to natural effects of anaerobic oxidation). It was such a lovely day as well and made me so energized, so full of inspiration, enabling me to see little stories scampering about here and there.

When we got back in the afternoon, I talked with a friend of mine (who had also gone on the trip), and she mentioned how so many girls have no desire for "adventure". She looked at me and said "In the scale for being adventerous, I'd give you a 3/10, but otherwise, you are ok!". This is a friend whose honesty I respect, even though it might come off harshly, even though I might get hurt. It is always best to hear the truth.

However, I didn't think she was quite right. Basically because she and I clearly had different definitions for the word "adventure". She is more the sporty type, who can't sleep without a (large) dose of excercise a day, including running or swimming. Fitness and physical activities are such an important part of her life, for she used to row as well. Though our need for intellectual conversations brought us closer together as friends, the differences in our "active" lifestyles were still significant. Her comment about my being not adventerous enough made me think of Frankengirl's recent post, where she asked,

"Is exercising the muscles of our body more highly esteemed in our society than excising the muscles of our brain? Is traveling to other countries, more desirable than traveling across the maps of our minds, hearts and souls?"

Why is the need for doing sports necessary to being termed "adventerous"? Why do people not think that one could have the most interesting, inspiring, fierce, and destructive adventures in one's own head? Why is the adventure of the intellect not noticed? I don't want to be called "adventerous" merely for the sake of it. All I am saying is that people ought to recognize that some of the hardest battles take place not in war zones on earthly soil, but rather, in the grey cells of one's cranium, as well in that intangible corner of one's being, one's heart and soul. I'd like to ask others who are ignorant of mental adventures this question, "Is it necessary for me to measure my brain activity by use of wires and electronic equipement in order to prove to you that I am not just languishing, idling away all day just because I don't prance around the tennis court?" Honestly, I don't dislike sports, in fact, I do them in moderation. And I am fond of walking and I swim when possible. And I am quite content with the "adventures" in my own head (though there are times when I long for more mental excitement), I am quite content to be left alone,if it means being removed from the society of such people who not only exert little intellectually and emotionally (when they have the capacity to do so), but also ridicule others who long for other things. If they left me, I'll be left alone to just ponder and think things and dream dreams without being forced to restrict my thoughts, schmoose and endure their arid chatter.

But this brings me to the 'material point', which is to ask the following questions: What is an Adventure? If freedom is sought in adventure, isn't restricting the meaning of this word doing the opposite of the very thing that adventure promotes?

The Brontes' Arab connection.

2006-06-27T20:39:00.000-04:00

I found this really interesting article on the Bronteblog just now. It is so interesting it makes me so impatient to get a hold of this book and read it. It basically deals with feminism, the Arab world, and works by Charlotte Bronte. I've heard of Charlotte Bronte's works being compared to post-colonial literature, especially that of the Indian subcontinent, but I didn't think there would be much out there about an Arab connection. This book seems promising in that it is filled with this very topic!

One of the reasons Charlotte Bronte's works resonate so strongly with me is that the time in which she wrote her novels is very much like the society in which I grew up. In this society, women are considered inferior, a burden. A single woman wishing to be independent, is considered dangerous: not only to her self (for she is believed to have such a feeble mind, susceptible to temptation), but to her family (who despair of getting her married), and her husband (who delights in being her superior). And then of course, there are so many RULES (religious, societal, filial) that she ought to follow. There is so much emphasis on restraint, that it is stifling. A woman must always be "kept down".

This is why I find Jane to be such a source of strength and inspiration. She had her low moments, to be sure, but she tried to survive on her own at whatever cost.

"Angry words sofly spoken

Angry Words Softly Spoken
A Comparative Study of English and Arabic Women Writers by Alanoud Alsharekh. Published by Saffron Books

Angry Words Softly Spoken deals with the concept of feminism as a cross-cultural literary device that uncovers the social development of women’s emancipatory progress through the work of both English and Arab female novelists.The main premise of this study relies on many of the theories presented by the 1970’s feminist critical movement, especially that of Elaine Showalter’s tripartite structure.It also suggests a new tripartite structure for the evolution of feminist consciousness in works of fiction involving an inversion of scales in ‘softness’ and ‘anger’ explored through the work of such authors as Charlotte Brontë, Sarah Grand, Virginia Woolf, Layla al-'Uthman, Nawal al Saadawi and Hanan al Shaykh...

....

The works of Charlotte Brontë, Jane Eyre and Villette, are compared with the literature of the Kuwaiti writer Layla al-'Uthman in Chapter 2: Feminine. Table of Contents here."

More info here.

2006-06-27T11:11:00.000-04:00

awww!!!

This is our latest desktop wallpaper :D Doesn't he look splendidly Neddy-licious? I love this picture heaps! He looks like such a teddy bear!

A fall and (uncommonplace) frenzy

2006-06-26T23:19:00.000-04:00

Today was one of those days that were out of the ordinary.
My friends and I wished to walk around The Lake in the late afternoon and as we were walking toward it, I happened to spot one of my Professors. Overjoyed and unable to contain myself, I waved and screamed her name. She turned to face me, and motioned for me to come and converse with her. We were about 20 yards away, with a hill-like area dividing us, which I had to cross. We talked for a bit and she told me that she told another student of hers about my Bronte exhibit. I think she is quite taken with my Bronte-devotion :) But as soon as I finished talking to her, I started to run down the hill, forgetting that it had rained the day before and for part of the morning, creating large, hidden puddles of mud in the grass. So within a few seconds, SPLASH!!! I found myself in the middle of a large puddle of mud, having fallen on my back. I was drenched all over in mud , including my hair, my face just barely escaping the ordeal. My Professor turned back, caught a glimpse of my poor, soaked self and came to assist me. I tried to muster up some humor and told her that this fall added some spice to my otherwise usually dull existance. She chuckled and said that the fall seemed more like out of a Bronte novel, or better yet, a Jane Austen one. I told her perhaps I ought to hear Willoughby and his horse approaching ;) If it had rained that instant, I might have doubted my conjecture less ! Perhaps then I could have even seen a Gytrash in the distance instead :P

Trying to exert a somewhat cheerful aspect, I got up out of the puddle with much effort just when my friends, oblivious to all that happened, inquired after me. So the Lake trip was put off for now and I walked back to my room. But this was not the end, for just as I was getting cleaned up, the fire alarm rang and I had to run out of the my room, shivering and half-drenched once again.

Ah well, it is a little incident but one that created some excitement, even if it included just myself. The fall wasn't too bad, thankfully, in fact, it was a rather graceful glide ;)

In terms of other odds and ends, I feel like I ought to watch Jane Eyre (1973) again in order to probe further and ascertain whether my sentments on watching it for the first time still hold true. I probably will get to this task tomorrow.

I watched Oliver Twist (directed by Roman Polanski) and I thought it was very intriguing. Primarily because it contained NOTHING about his past or his identity. Ever since I read Oliver Twist when I was about 11, one thing I always remembered was his poor mother dying in the workhouse in the first chapter. I was surprised to find that this version did not mention his mother, or his family AT ALL. Instead, it focused on Fagin,and tried to explore the ethics involved in judging him. This was well done. I don't think I have taken too much of a fancy to Dickens--his characters are too one-dimensional,although the social commentary is significant. Oliver Twist is so angelic you wonder how the child could be so innocent. In a similar vein, Nicholas Nickelby vexes me for the same reason,as does his shallow passion (if it could be called that) for the woman who eventually becomes his wife (her name even escapes me). Anyways, I digress...

I ought to start studying for the GREs. I bought a GRE prep book for that purpose but still haven't found the time to open it and concentrate. Job search is so distracting. I feel like I ought to get paid to get a job (that pays). How ironic!But really, I feel like I don't have much time. I must get something soon..by the end of the summer at least. I hope I can still stay motivated enough to work on job search. If only i could immmerse myself in reading and if only I never had to find a job..ah well, that would be splendid, woudn't it? I am currently reading a book on Emily Bronte's Gondal stories and I find it so interesting! I want to keep reading this stuff all day! I do love her poetry so! I feel that I could relate to Emily on several levels. I could feel her frustrations when she yearned for the World of the Imagination, and I could understand her distate for the tedious kind of "work" in the Real World. It's such a shame she lived almost 250 years ago. I could have had a confidante in her..

Jane Eyre 1973: A review

2006-06-23T18:27:00.000-04:00

*Warning: might contain spoilers*

I watched the 1973 Jane Eyre (starring Micheal Jayston and Sorcha Cusack) yesterday and I must say, it was quite an experience. Primarily because I expected a lot more from this adapation than from any other adaptation. However, I regret to say, I found it a trifle lacking.

The chief cause of this was Sorcha Cusack, who played Jane. I wasn't sure if there was a failure in her acting technique, or misconception on my part regarding her facial features, and expressions. I felt like she was so artificial. The only rare moments in which she was believable were the proposal scene, when she is at the Rivers' doorstep, and when she argues with St. John in the end of the film. At almost every other scene, it seemed to me as if she just read lines from the script (or more like sang them), instead of acting them. I hold the character of Jane in the novel in high esteem, and recognize her complexities, her inner struggles between duty and desire, freedom and entrapment. Bronte's Jane is not one who merely smiles all the time, but is rather thoughtful, introspective, and very intense. Very passionate. Sorcha did not convey any of this. Her acting was rather flat, and not at all intense. She did not make me feel for Jane as I watched her romance with Rochester evolve. Although her eyes seemed to laugh, I detected little fire in their depths. As I watched her, I could not fully comprehend what Jane's obstactles were. When Jayston's Rochester questions her about her past at Lowood, I could not guage from her expressions about her feelings towards Brocklehurst, and the shackles imposed on by the school administration as well as her past. Although I wasn't too fond of Zelah Clarke as Jane, I feel like she really shines in this regard compared to Sorcha. Zelah's expressions were more serious, but I was able to notice a change in them at the right time. When she talked about presents, I felt I could pity her. When she was happy after Rochester's proposal, we could see it written all over her face. When she wrung herself from Rochester, her face showed the torment, as did her tangled hair. In the after-the-fire scene, one of my favorites in the novel, Zelah Clarke, though submerged in the over-sized nightcap, still managed to convey a sense of the sexual intensity, the battle of desires seething in her, while Sorcha just stared at Rochester, placidly, without much tension or discomfort. For these reasons, I found Sorcha's gestures were not as moving. She seemed to remain the same throughout the novel, with the same chirpiness, the same mellow, dull expressions.

Jayston, on the other hand, is THE BEST ROCHESTER EVER! I liked Dalton's Rochester prior to watching this version, but now I'd have to say Jayston;s is much better than him. If it wasn't for Jayston, the film would have little to its credit and, in my opinion, would have failed. He made every scene he was in stand out and he really made up for the deficiency in Sorcha. His expressions were so well put, and I was suprised to see the right balance of humor and distress in him, the right balance of tenderness and tact. He wasn't overly melodramatic like Hurt, or overpowering like Dalton. I found it so endearing during the moments when he chuckled. And who the deuce can forget his favorite word? He was best at the scene right after the interrupted wedding, when he does not bring the house down with his screams but instead conveys the sense of his torment with more dignity. He made Rochester seem so real. And I forgot that he was merely an actor, acting his parts.

Young Jane was not remarkable, besides being considerably older than 10 years of age. She played her role quite well, though I think Sian Pattendon (of the 1983 version) did a better job in her expressions of fear and rage. I liked Helen in this version better, however, for she seemed much more friendly than any other Helen I've seen (and only competed with Sorcha for the rate of smiling). Adele too was unremarkable, as was the one in the 1983 version. My favorite Adele was the 1996 version's, where we got more of a sense of the child's personality through her reaction to Rochester's treatment of her. The other charcters were quite mellow, not very different from those in the other versions I've seen. I have never taken a fancy to St. John and the one in this version seemed just as cold, and exacting as could be expected. While the 1996 one was goofy and the 1983 one showed his struggle with feelings for Rosamund, I didn't quite catch his peculiarity in this version.

In all honesty, I did like this version. And I do do do like Jayston! It is just that I had such high expectations for this version. I wished for it to be more than significantly better than the 1983 one, or any other. Above all, I thought that once I watch this, no other version would ever measure up. However, this did not happen. I think the 1983 one was better overall compared to this version, though Jayston is the better Rochester. I found the ending of the 1983 version more satisfactory than the 1973 version. I was disturbed by the sight of Jane in a bright red dress in the 1973 version. Perhaps the director left it till the end, to take a powerful stance. Perhaps, other than Jayston, therin lies its triumph.

2006-06-22T16:15:00.000-04:00

IT'S HERE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! *has a fainting spell*

OMGOMGOMG!!!!! Jane Eyre 1973 is here!!! And my supervisor just said (after realizing my fit of hysterics) that I could borrow it today!!!!!!!!

I am so happy I don't know what to do!!!

2006-06-19T16:10:00.000-04:00

OMG!!! My supervisor just ordered a copy of the 1973 Jane Eyre!!! *squeels*
Apparently she seems more impatient to see it than I am!!

Today we spent a good few minutes (or hours) drooling over the screen caps posted on Thisbeciel's Jane Eyre website!

And we chose the following picture as the wallpaper on the main computer! *grins*

2006-06-16T09:56:00.000-04:00

I've just got back after taking time off to interview for a few days. Before I left, I was considering how dull my life has become lately. There are no lessons on Keats and Coleridge to make me dwell enough on illusion and art. There no classes on the Brontes to enable me to reside in their world for a satisfactory length of time (but I suspect I'll never be satiated in this regard). I haven't had any stimulating conversations with my mentors, my Professors,that exhaust my brain in a rewarding manner. And if it wasn't for the Neddy-licious conversations and Jane Eyre discussions that I've had with my supervisor, and the posts and comments on my blog as well as on blogs I visit frequently (Thank you Frankengirl for the comments!), and the rare joys at work, I would have sunk under the weight of all that Dullness, in the pit of Boredom, with its days of "busy nothings."

So it came as a surprise that day before yesterday, the first of my interview days, was filled with drama!

My trip started off with a mishap in the train. The lights didn't work and since I had to take an early train, we ended up traveling in darkness. It was really hot outside and all this did not blend well with my agitated spirit. When I got to the bus station, the conductor gruffly and sneeringly told me, 2 minutes before boarding, that I had brought with me the wrong ticket. I simply needed to catch that bus in order to have enough time to get to my interview and no matter how I tried to convince him that it was indeed my name in the ticket, and that the details were correct, he would not budge an inch. He sent me off to get the correct print-out of the ticket, and I knew that I didn't know of any internet cafes or such places in the vicinity of the station. I didn't know what to do and I was going berserk. However, I called my friend S, and she was my life-line for hours afterward. She suggested I should take just take the next bus even if it doesn't take me to the location I had planned to go and she offered to tell me the directions if necessary. So I ended up doing that, and landed in a strange town, utterly unknown to me. If I had been less nervous, I don't know what I would have done. It is not merely that I was in a new place, but that I was running out of time for my interview. So once I was there, I scrambled to get myself into a cab, but try as I might, all the cabs seem to be occupied that day!!! So I walked and walked hoping I'll get closer to the address somehow, and walking with interview shoes is NOT pleasant in the least. Anyways, after what seemed like miles and miles of walking with blisters, I finally got into a cab that took me to where I wanted to go. So I walked into the upscale building, and immediately I was greeted with an annoyed look by the receptionist who graciously informed that I was expected 15 minutes ago. I apologized as well I could, but honestly, this was totally unexpected and I tried my best to get there. However, the secretary of the woman I was supposed to see came over to me and told me that her boss was "engaged at a meeting and that it was too late because (I) was 15 minutes late". I was dumbfounded at first but then gave a fake smile and told her to contact me if resheduling was necessary. We both apologized to each other. Then I ran out of there (if that was possible in those shoes) as fast I could. Once outside, I wondered, if the woman had seen me as planned surely the interview should have lasted for more than 15 minutes! Anyways, I suppose such busy people have no patience for others for whom things take an unexpected turn.
However, I was glad this was the interview for the law firm. I wasn't into this position anyway and I think I would have had little say during the interview even if it had taken place. I don't think I would have been as excited about it as the interviewer could have wished me to be. I suppose, in hindsight, things happen for the best then.

My interview at the publisher's was yesterday and no such drama happened. I was able to find the place on time and I think I told them everything that I feel. I didn't have anything to hide or pretend and I could be as excited as I wished. If they don't take me, then it will be because I might not be the best fit for them and vice versa.

I know that these are the early days of interviewing for jobs. I do hope I don't have to go through this for long. I hope I get a job I am pleased with, one which would allow me to be say anything I want to say, do anything I want to do, instead of forcing me to hold back or pretend things I don't feel.

2006-06-13T19:38:00.000-04:00

We finished watching Jane Eyre on Sunday and still continue to discuss it. My supervisor and I both love the "after-the-fire" scene. We could never get enough of it! I also watched Mansfield Park (starring Frances O'Connor) again, and I must say it has grown on me. Rozema (the director) has sought to make Fanny a more assertive, stronger character than what I gathered from reading the book, but I believe this step of hers works to its advantage. We need a Fanny like that! I could never finish the book although I tried reading it two times, primarily because I never could take to Fanny as she is described in the novel. The movie, however, throws a new light into her character. She is no longer meek, but uses the appearance of her meekness to her advantage. I took notes on this topic earlier but I will post them later in an entry dedicated to Fanny or Mansfield Park.

For the present I am trying to settle down in my present location. I need to unpack before my room is live-able. I always wonder which is worse, moving out or moving in. I guess they are equally hard.

Anyways, I have two interviews tomorrow that I am trying really hard to not feel nervous about. One is a paralegaling position (which I am really doubtful about since I don't know anything about law firms and this does not seem creative in the very least.) This means I have to research on the company tonight and at least familiarize myself with some key terms. If anything, I think going on this interview will give me some experience. I should think of this as a mock-interview perhaps.
The other is a position in a publishing firm, which is more in line with my major and at least allows for some creative exertions of the mind. I hope they go well, especially the second. Some luck would really come in handy.

2006-06-09T12:31:00.000-04:00

I was at my supervisor's (she was so sweet and decided to take me under her wing for a few days)and I must say I am glad to be able to get acquainted with her. Yesterday we spent a considerable amount of time talking about the Brontes!! She said that she knew of a Bronte-enthusiast in the area who is writing a book on the Brontes. Apparently this fan claims to have conversations with the Brontes on a regular basis ;) I confess I've had my share of "talking" to intangible things but as for actually getting responses and being so sure of them...I'd want to discern more of the detatails of such a feat. For example, I'd like to know if she wrote of her experiences (it might make for an interesting piece of writing!), or did something or another with them. Anyways, my supervisor thinks that the lady is crazy. My question, however, is how could one draw the line between sanity and insanity. For example, is the woman crazy to claim to "hear" the Brontes, or are others not enlightened enough to "hear" them? In other words, who or what is "crazy"?

Besides discussing the Bronte-enthusiast, out attentions made a logical shift to discussing Jane Eyre. Although I had mentioned that my supervisor was fond of Rochester, I didn't know how much until yesterday. Initially she said she could find nothing wrong with him, to which I volunteered, "Oh but he has faults, to be sure." Her smile faded for a moment and she grew pensive, when I said "He is not without rather um..violent tendencies." I mentioned Rochester's act of shooting the lover of Celine Varens, as well as the way in which he almost threatens Jane just before she leaves Thornfield. I wanted to give an accurate portrait of Rochester so that anyone who wants to know him will be aware of all his faults and then decide whether they still prefer him. Once Ned is able to pass this test, our affection for him will be stronger than ever because we will know all aspects of his character. My supervisor quipped, "Oh but he could have had a duel with Celine's lover if he wanted to. Now that would have been more violent! Rochester didn't, so he has the potential to be forgiven."
What we both agreed on was that Rochester is a good man at heart. He wants to be rid of taints in his character and he seeks Jane to help him be a better person. He loves her based on a deeper, intellectual level.

I was pleased to find that my supervisor even remembered parts of the book (This is the only Bronte book she's read), as well as bits of the 1996 movie starring Hurt. To my delight, she suggested we rent the 1983 Jane Eyre and we watched the first 6 episodes yesternight! I can't wait to watch the rest of it soon!!!

2006-06-06T22:03:00.000-04:00

I think Ned has been found, for I've had some news today! *drum roll*

My supervisor and I had a jolly time talking about Jane Eyre today! She said that she loved this book very much and that she was fond of Ned! You can imagine my excitement! We spent a good few minutes discussing him and how beneficial such a man is to womenkind :P Although her heart belonged to a 17th century French nobleman, she held Ned in high regard. I showed LERO to her, as well as all the Bronte sites I love and, though not half as excited as I was to show her, she was nevertheless quite pleased with what she saw.
When we got to the topic of "favorite Neds", she mentioned hers was Dalton. When I showed her our newest Ned, she literally shrieked, and shockingly she remarked, "Why! He looks like a.......Neanderthal man!!!!"

So now his manliness is accused of being *really* primitive indeed!!

2006-06-02T10:22:00.000-04:00

The last few days have been very hectic. We had our Commencement yesterday and I've offically gradauted. I am now a B.A, an English major. I feel like a lot had happened in the last few days and I've felt a rollercoaster of emotions passing through me. The ceremony right before Commencement was the most emotional one for me becuase the event brought back all sorts of memories from the last four years of college: from my apprehension about going away from home for the first time, making new friends, challenging myself in my classes, applying for internships, making summer plans, finishing up my degree requirements, and finally the days building up to senior week and graduation. So much has happend and I feel I have changed immensely. From being a quiet first year, I've learnt to speak up for what I believe in, to ask lots of questions, and to enjoy learning for learning's sake. I know I've also had some rough times in college. This place has torn me apart and built me up to be a different, stronger person in a lot of ways. For this learning, I am grateful. It doesn't mean everything is going to be smooth right now. Far from it. I still don't have a job, or a definite place to stay for that matter. And then, I miss school terribly. I miss the World of Dreams. Then there are doubts about how I am going to get to grad school, and then about getting a job after that. I think all these uncertainties would be easier to deal with if I didn't have pressure from home. Now even my dad keeps telling me that I must "think about 'settling' down", because I am "getting too old". My mother of course is terrified and bitter that my "time" is running out, that no one might marry me and she then can't bear telling the unfortunate news to the people in our social circle that her daughter is not only "still unmarried" but there doesn't seem to be any propect of her being a wife in the near future. I think finding a husband is the last in my list of priorities right now. A nice job which will allow me to have my own apartment, my own freedom, would be much more welcome.

Anyways, I have to move out in a few hours and my living arrangements will be uncertain for a few weeks. I hope to check my blog/read other blogs at least once a day but I can't be sure. I'll miss the Blogosphere so much! I'll miss all my blog friends and the great discussions. I'll especially miss Frankengirl, for she has been a kindred spirit, a kind visitor of my blog and I do value her comments and posts.

I hope everyone has a wonderful weekend!!

2006-06-01T21:56:00.000-04:00

I am truly sorry to have to say goodbye to my dear Professors. They have been so inspiring to me. They've encouraged me and supported me in my creative endeavors. I believe I could talk to them all day (if it were ever possible) and never get bored or vexed.

Something one of Professors wrote me today literally made tears gush into my eyes. A while ago, when she had happened to mention going on a literary pilgrimage to the UK, I had insisted she must visit Haworth. In her note she added that she'd be sure to say hi to the ghosts of the Brontes" for me. She is a nice, kind soul and understands my views on the Imagination. I think the Brontes would welcome her :)

2006-05-29T02:10:00.000-04:00

I introduced yet another friend to Gaskell and North & South. I am proud to report that she finds both very intriguing and is glad to have been introduced :)

I have more observations about the movie which I would like to share here.

Names and Naming in North and South
Margaret Hale's last name has links with the weather-a tempestous one at that. When Thornton walks into Margaret's home for the first time, there is thunder in the sky (as shown in the film). Margaret's emotions are like a hail--they are not full-blown like a storm, but they are intense none the less, and restless. A perfect example of the similarity between her tempestous emotions and her name is the strike. When the strikers struggle to get into the mill, the force of their actions is like a hail. This mirrors the troubled waters of Margaret's emotions.
John Thornton's first name suggests he is plain and uninteresting, but his last name conveys the sense of a hardness about him. He is prickley and it takes a lot for someone to get under his skin. He falls for Margaret because he notices how different she is from any other young women in his circle. Although he dismisses Higgins, he later comes to recognize his hard work and actually becomes humbled by him, learning about him in the process.
Gaskell does a good job of playing on the names of the important towns. While Helstone is described as "Paradise" by Margaret at first, the name also has connections with Hell. This Hell part of it is indeed what makes Mr. Hale leave Helstone for a better place, the opposite of Hell, a Paradise, which is Milton.
Although the name of "Milton" has connections to a highly educated man, one of the greatest 17th century writer, the town of Milton in Gaskell's novel is the exact opposite. The people here are mainly the working poor, who have little wish to learn. When Mr. Hale comes to teach, he starts with the Classics, something which Milton the writer adored. Thornton takes to the Classics well, which shows how he is willing to learn and therefore be of the same calibre as Milton, the writer. Also, Gaskell's intention in having such a name might be to show the characters, as well as readers, that perhaps the best learning occurs in hardship, in an "illiterate" setting. Margaret and Thornton's characters develop best when they are in Milton, a "dirty, smoky" town whose people care little for "Classical" learning.

ETA: I meant that Margaret's last name is like a hail storm.

2006-05-28T01:15:00.000-04:00

Among the love poems selected by members of my college community, I found several that were pleasant like the following:

I offer,

It's all I have to bring to-day,
This, and my heart beside,
This, and my heart, and all the fields,
And all the meadows wide.
Be sure you count, should I forget, --
Someone the sum could tell, --
This, and my heart, and all the bees
Which in the clover dwell.
- Emily Dickinson

I found this poem rather intriguing, to say the least:

"Unfortunate Coincidence"
--Dorothy Parker

By the time you swear you're his,
Shivering and sighing,
And he vows his passion is
Infinite, undying--
Lady, make a note of this:
One of you is lying.

And my own addition to the collection of love poems would be the following:

Sonnet CXVI

Let me not to the marriage of true minds
Admit impediments. Love is not love
Which alters when it alteration finds,
Or bends with the remover to remove:
O no! it is an ever-fixed mark
That looks on tempests and is never shaken;
It is the star to every wandering bark,
Whose worth's unknown, although his height be taken.
Love's not Time's fool, though rosy lips and cheeks
Within his bending sickle's compass come:
Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks,
But bears it out even to the edge of doom.
If this be error and upon me proved,
I never writ, nor no man ever loved.

-- William Shakespeare