Hence the famous French saying that sounds something to the extent of:Quote:
Originally Posted by JBI
"We are blessed with a new Shakespeare in every generation."
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Hence the famous French saying that sounds something to the extent of:Quote:
Originally Posted by JBI
"We are blessed with a new Shakespeare in every generation."
JBI wants literature to be words and symbols without meaning because it allows him to dismiss content out of hand. He's probably reading a lot of Saussure, Chomsky, Derrida and guys like that right now for a modern criticism class, and in contemporary criticism there's a large movement to make meaning plastic or reinterpretable. If he wants to get good grades then his opinions naturally have to be aligned with those of the people he's reading. He has to minimize the universal, downplay all previous theories, and make a big deal about signifiers and signified. Ceci n'est pas un critique.
By focusing our primary value upon the particular rather than the general attributes we are actually privileging an interpretation or point of view. In this case, the position is very clearly an elitist view of art as it seeks to minimize the importance of less finely executed works of art which happen to share the same themes as great works or art. It may not be intentional, but the emphasis of language to the exclusion of content has that effect. It discredits less polished, more popular forms of art. It delegitimizes the masses experience, monopolizes the power (who gets to interpret, or create), brands less crafted works as different, other, alien, pretends various people are not enjoying the same thing. This bastardization of the popular experience is disenfranchisement, a negation of the pleasures regular people experience from reading, framing aesthetics as either right or wrong. The populace says, “Look here, we like the same things. What we read is more or less the same.” But the elitist says, “No, it is our differences which matter. There is no common bond. We do not enjoy the same things. Our enjoyment is different. Our books are different. We are different.”
If we admit that content is primary and language secondary, or if they were equal, or if perhaps there were such a thing as a universal then that would mean that the popular would share a common ground with the elite and would have to be judged on a gradient rather than a good/bad mutually exlusive dichotomy. Back in March we had this discussion on the Byron, Shelley, or Keats? Thread, and there also I made the case for theme, subject, and content. StLukesGuild and Petrarch's Love illustrated their position with the example of Arthur Brooke's Romeus and Juliet. They claimed that what made Shakespeare's version better was his skillful handling of language. What they failed to address, and what I was too tired to point out, was that although Brooke's Romeus and Juliet was inferior to Shakespeare's Romeo and Juliet, the content probably raised it above the main of Brooke's own oeuvre.
JBI's stand has a second effect in that it allows him to raise works of art with unworthy themes, minimal content, obscure application, and oblique language, which wallow in narcisistic eccentricity to the level of greatness by virtue of their individual diction. Case in point, his mention of Finnegans Wake. There is no subject more frivolous than that of sophistry, the splitting of hairs, and disection of language. Authors who make words their subject are prone to the worst abuses of language and self-conscious navel gazing. The authors he would raise from oblivion to the heights of Mount Parnassus are the ignoble pygmies who would gild a lily, polish a turd, and pen beautiful words in a cause for which it would be waste of breath to speak. “These same people also think themselves clever if one has to be clever to understand them, as Diomedes wittily remarked, and prefer to write something that will result in amazement rather than comprehension(Erasmus, De Copia).”
Finally, JBI and StLukesGuild are fond of saying that literature is not translatable. They quote Frost and say that “Poetry is what get's lost in translation.” This is one more view that can be extrapolated from their position. If the phonemes are more important to you than the enthymemes, then of course you are going to say that nothing is translatable.
I am, one, chiming in, and two, staying out of this to the extent that I don't see the big deal, in terms of universalism and specialization (or exclusiveness, or elitism) existing hand in hand. Any aesthetic elevation may contain universal traits even while being cued into particular cultural codes. Language may not be universal, but all languages function pretty much the same way with S-O-V structures, and can find approximation between themselves. Diderot's honnete may not be translatable into English, but a good translator can back-door out of it to remain true to the original intent, and no means no in English or Russian.
Light In August is more universal than The Tin Drum both in ease of read and critical interpretation, but both novels make brilliant use of *the Other*, of metaphorical redemption, and examine fascism in the 20th century, even if appreciation of Grass takes a little more effort and grasp of literary theory.
I suppose it's inevitable that something as wide-ranging as American literature will lead people to go off on a tangent so that the original thread becomes lost in a discussion on something else. All this talk about universality, language etc. etc. is way off beam to the original subject. How can universality apply when the original post was entitled "AMERICAN" literature.
So please let's get back to discussing US writers and their output. Tangential subjects can be discussed in other threads.
:lol:You are right Brian. It's amazing how discussions evolve and take on a life of their own.
Because of the Western world's ethnocentric approach to literature, no doubt?Quote:
Originally Posted by stlukesguild
Mortalterror, I'm not sure I get your connection between your first and second paragraphs. If you are associating relativism and elitism, I would have said the contrary - a universalistic thought would be more likely to shape hierarchies (as it has done for cultures, ie all cultures reach towards a common aim, therefore some are more backwards than others because they are further off from that aim), whereas a relativistic viewpoint would be more inclined to admit the differences between cultures and therefore more open to them. What you are describing ("It delegitimizes the masses experience, monopolizes the power (who gets to interpret, or create), brands less crafted works as different, other, alien, pretends various people are not enjoying the same thing.") is what a universalistic standpoint does. One of the things Derrida (and some of his predecessors) did was open the academic world onto works that were seen as alien and other (and popular). The emphasis on language, if taken too strictly, can also lead to putting Shakespeare and Eminem on the same level.
If there was no connection and you just meant that focusing on language and style to the detriment of content is elitist, I definitely agree with you. :)
To come back to the subject of American literature, what do you think about Henry James? Do you consider him to be an American author, even if he became British?
I want to respond, but perhaps can a moderator move the offtopic posts to another thread, so we don't sidetrack this thread even more?
The Henry James question has already been discussed on page 4 of this thread.Quote:
Originally Posted by Bitterfly
Ah, thank you - I missed quite a lot of this interesting thread, being sick.
I'd love to know what you think make American authors American, and I read a few tentative answers to this question on the page you referred me too, but they remain just that, tentative. I can think of a few themes, but they come from a Francocentrist perspective, so please correct me if I'm wrong, especially as my knowledge of American literature is limited:
_ puritanism (and the almost schizophrenic outlook it gives sometimes, when a puritan streak is in conflict with a desire for freedom)
_the wilderness
_The conquest of nature/corresponding hubris/final mastery or failure
_ the failure of the American dream, and I suppose of ideals in general
_ ?
And beyond typically American themes, is there an archetypically American voice and is it definable? I'm sorry if that's already been answered as well, I'm still a little woozy.
The discussion about universality, by the way, seems to be a natural outcome of this attempt at definition, rather than a mere digression - maybe because it is impossible to really define an artist by his/her nationality?
These themes are interesting, germane to the subject and should generate some informative replies. Unfortunately, I have to leave now but I will certainly come back to this thread later.Quote:
Originally Posted by Bitterfly
The concept of the wilderness in America isn't the sense of wilderness, I would argue, but the sense of destroying the wilderness. You get the theme of conquering the barrier, planting the flag, but you don't normally get the "destructive wilderness" you may get in other literature:
"It's an immense night out there, wheeling and windy. The lights on the street and in the houses are helpless against the black wetness, little unilluminating glints that might be painted on it. The town seems huddled together, cowering on a high, tiny perch, afraid to move lest it topple into the wind."
From Sinclair Ross's As For Me and My House (Canadian).
That sort of phrase just wouldn't work towards the American vision, unless propelled by something like being in a war-torn town, whereas this is simply describing an average night on the prairies. The wildness in America acts as a frontier, something to be worked against, and destroyed, not a malevolent force.
I would say this is a good thematic platform to start with, Bitter, even from a Francocentrist perspective, as we have the French to thank for the hybrid culture of Louisiana and New Orleans, and I suppose JBI would give you a pat on the back for the endless source of amusement that is Quebec.:pQuote:
Originally Posted by Bitterfly
I would add to this
-newness, as the American hemisphere is, was, the last frontier, even if one makes allowances for its indigenous populations. The American Indian, too, was a *newness*, with its tribal practices unique, and certainly thousands of years younger than its counterparts in tribal Asia, Europe, and Africa.
Yes, we had this discussion some months ago over a term paper, and I think one general archetype is American innocence, and this is what especially preoccupies Henry James, for readers like Pablo who do not see why James is ultimately the American native son. His Americans are, yes, Victorian upper caste, but they resent, and always have a case against Europeans and European worldliness. With a few noted exceptions, this was the life's work of Henry James, trying to bridge the gap between the American and European culture clash.Quote:
And beyond typically American themes, is there an archetypically American voice and is it definable?
I had originally returned to suggest the same thing, but you nicely beat me to it. But again, I don't really see the controversy. It seems an ingrained part of human nature to be driven toward narrative, whether it is a tribal elder on Nova doing the *science* of fire ants in his own unique African terms, or the American preacher doing a sermon, which is so much a part of our literary mythos. If JBI is trying to parse universality as patently false in terms of what makes great literature, I remain unconvinced. Yes, stick me down in Haiti on a tour bus and I may come to a lightning reassessment of my own poverty in American terms, but that Haitian child's pestering of a tour bus and my bitter dreams of wealth, these both are driven by the same impetus, oui?Quote:
The discussion about universality, by the way, seems to be a natural outcome of this attempt at definition, rather than a mere digression - maybe because it is impossible to really define an artist by his/her nationality?
I didn't say there weren't universal things in the world, I simply said good literature a) isn't established as good because it contains a "universal", and that no literature is ever "universal" though it may discuss universal things.
The simple proof is the language, as I have argued. I don't even need to go to a Joyce work for the proof, I simply used that as the best example. Let's go to the oldest works, perhaps?:
The Iliad. I know you've read it (can you read Greek?). But the point is, there is a huge difference between the Fitzgerald translation, and the Fagles translation, and the Lattimore Translation, which has essentially nothing in common with the classic Alexander Pope translation. Are we supposed to believe any of these texts can be read the same way?
I don't doubt Shakespeare may have things, or Henry James may have things, or Li Bai may have things that are of interest to many people. I read translations like everyone else. I simply think that these works aren't universal. Which they aren't, since their languages aren't. Their translations allow wider range, but someone who reads something out of the original, isn't really reading the text, they are reading an interpretation.
Take Chinese literature for instance. The classical Tang poetry essentially cannot be translated and maintain its meanings or facets. The language, based on the character, allows for certain things within the text which cannot, and I mean cannot, be replicated in another language. Does that mean these poets are worse than other national poets? no. Is their scope limited because of language? yes. Is their discussion of theme limited no? but are their works universal? I would say no, like I say no about every other author.
On topic now, I would think that there are universal themes. But the opinions expressed on them by authors aren't universal. The American vision is different than the Mexican vision, which is different from the Canadian vision.
Hell, the Texas vision is different than the New York vision.
It seems to me your argument is a caution more against multi-culturalism than universality, I dunno. John Gardener once said there are only two types of stories:
1. Man goes on a journey
2. Man returns
The fact that Asian calligraphy cannot have its meanings understood in traditional English means what then? I cannot speak for Japan, but the story of China seems to be all about the tension between merging the individual will to conformity of social norm, and the success or failure of that through both its Imperial and Communist history, which lends itself in particular to hieroglyphic art forms.
It is a great civilization. So are many others, and I am not so sold on human ignorance that we cannot marvel at each other. Just as I've read in the paper that the Chinese are flabbergasted at Barack Obama's elevation to the Presidency. Each can teach JBI.
Eh, in Hawthorne's "Young Goodman Brown", the wilderness definitely equals the place where evil resides, ditto The Scarlet Letter to a lesser degree (but it's there as well). In Cooper's novels the wilderness is a placed to be conquered, but it's also the place where those "savage" Indians reside.Quote:
Originally Posted by JBI
In other words, I would agree that a major part of the wilderness theme in American Lit is the American desire to conquer it and bring civilization, but there is also I think a fear of it and it does obtain a certain degree of malevolence. I suppose it's a bit trickier than that. Cooper, for example, seems to bemoan the spread of civilization to the wilderness (civilization will ruin the pristine beauty of the wilderness and exacerbate issues with the natives, while the chaotic nature of the wilderness will infect society and turn law and order into chaos); this of course finds its ultimate expression in Cooper's fear in the mixing of "races," even though his main character in the leatherstocking novels practices a kind of hybrid culture (you can learn from the Natives, but you should always remember that you're white, and vice-versa). I think in the works of Cormac McCarthy, which I've only read a few it could be argued that the wilderness has a malovolent character, something that people want to conquer, to find a newfound freedom for themselves from society, but which more often than does the conquer and spews out it victims.
A typical American theme is one of individual freedom. The wilderness, especially when it takes the form of the Western Frontier, is ultimately a different way of expressing this typically American concern. The main problem that appears in scores of American literature is how does one find freedom where there is no law or developed civilization. Likewise, how does one find freedom in a society with too many laws and rules and regulations (usually the very reason characters in these novels flee for the wilderness).
The wilderness can also represent the American Dream in general. The founding of America as a way to restart oneself, restart one's life, economic fortunes, and reform one's identity. The wilderness is a repetition of this dream; instead of refounding America, it is the spreading of American culture where those dissatisfied with their station, economic fortunes, or identity in the established America can restart within the unexplored territories of the wilderness and restart their identities.
So I would say it's not that the wilderness drastically comes to represent something different. I do think often the wilderness is seen as a malovolent force, if not initially, then eventually in many American narratives. What's really going on, in my view, is there are typically American concerns being thrust upon and explored through the wilderness, which still also represents its other symbolic connotations, though slightly demphasized so it doesn't overpower those other concerns. Though, of course, it all depends on the writer.
Yes, we had this discussion some months ago over a term paper, and I think one general archetype is American innocence, and this is what especially preoccupies Henry James, for readers like Pablo who do not see why James is ultimately the American native son. His Americans are, yes, Victorian upper caste, but they resent, and always have a case against Europeans and European worldliness. With a few noted exceptions, this was the life's work of Henry James, trying to bridge the gap between the American and European culture clash.
Ditto everything Jozanny said. I think writers like Eliot, James, Pound and other transatlantic voices in all fairness can be placed in both European literature and American.
As Jozanny pointed out James's fiction is often about the "innocent" American traveling abroad in Europe who is either corrupted or destroyed by "decadent" European culture. That seems like a very American theme to me, one that Edith Wharton picks up on to a certain degree, but in a very different way. Not to mention it builds off my comments about the wilderness. It stems to a certain degree from American anxiety over its "newness" as a political entity and as a culture. Europe again offers many of James's characters their "freedom," a space for Americans to roam and find agency much like the wilderness where the social rules are slightly different from American society, and also like the "malovelent" it swallows the characters and spits them out.
Also, not all the characters read like Victorian upper-class Americans either. Henrietta Stackpole from The Portrait of a Lady I think reads as typically American and in certain ways does a nice job of capturing American personality (at least the stereotype of it) as it exists today in the minds of many! The muckracking, consistently pushy and materialistic, insulting Europe and its culture, thinking it a backwards land of tyrants, while proping up her own culture and society as the best.
As opposed to the other posts on this thread? That was easly to follow and a linear argument that made sense (at least to me, and I am 30 yrs removed from Lit classes in college) Not sure if I can say that about some other posts .Quote:
Originally Posted by Brian Bean
I think I can honestly say I have a great appreciation for earlier American Lit, like Melville and Hawthorne. The wilderness is quite often used as a symbol in their works, such as the forest in the Scarlet Letter and the whale in Moby Dick, and what it represents to me is a sort of reminder of the nature of the world. Human nature: the whale's representation of greed, lust, and ambition, all the so-called vices of humanity. The forest's representation of freedom from society, where the love between Hester and Dimmsdale can be expressed without restraint. The fact is that the "great naturalism of America" can prove positively invigorating. It's when the 20th century arrives that I lose interest.
The 20th century standard for American Literature revolves around that world vs. man instead of man vs. world. I much prefer the latter and find the former a bit tedious on occasions. When the MAIN theme of the story is the victimization of Gatsby and his weakness, his flaw, it drags. I find it so. The problem here is that I enjoy a psychological novel, like Crime and Punishment, but even then, I suppose, it is more man vs. world than the contrary. I'm babbling and I don't really know, but something about the canon of "great 20th century American Literature" has never appealed to me, I just find it mediocre.
From Burnt Norton by T. S. Eliot:
What might have been and what has been
Point to one end, which is always present.
Footfalls echo in the memory
Down the passage which we did not take
Towards the door we never opened
Into the rose-garden. My words echo
Thus, in your mind.
But to what purpose
Disturbing the dust on a bowl of rose-leaves
I do not know.
I think the loss of innocence too can be read as an echo on James's build up, except the society itself's loss of innocence as a whole seems to be quite the modernist preoccupation. Eliot's rose garden, where he heard the little girls at play when he was a kid seems his ultimate nostalgic vision that haunts almost all of his poems.
Still though, we can take it further. Cather's Nostalgia is there, it is evident, especially in perhaps Antonia, and her other Prairie novels. Frost in some ways echoes this sense of nostalgia as well, if we think "Birches".
I think growing up seems a preoccupation of the late-realists and early modernists. It seems like Wordsworth's concept of aging, but made a thousand times darker by the concept of the youth disappearing completely, rather than just being outgrown.
Why don't you just start the topic in a new thread and post a link back here?Quote:
Originally Posted by JBI
Alright then.
JBI wants literature to be words and symbols without meaning because it allows him to dismiss content out of hand. He's probably reading a lot of Saussure, Chomsky, Derrida and guys like that right now for a modern criticism class, and in contemporary criticism there's a large movement to make meaning plastic or reinterpretable. If he wants to get good grades then his opinions naturally have to be aligned with those of the people he's reading. He has to minimize the universal, downplay all previous theories, and make a big deal about signifiers and signified. Ceci n'est pas un critique.
I'll make no comments about where JBI is or is not coming from. That is for him to say. I will note that I have very little use for the sort of criticism that you mention... and had even less respect for it when I was confronted with it during my undergrad studies (and yes, some art majors did take classes on literature).
By focusing our primary value upon the particular rather than the general attributes we are actually privileging an interpretation or point of view. In this case, the position is very clearly an elitist view of art as it seeks to minimize the importance of less finely executed works of art which happen to share the same themes as great works or art.
My own position is admittedly "elitist" if by "elitist" we denote a position which places the aesthetic pleasure of a work primary. I suppose that such does lead to a position of placing form over content... but I would argue that the two are intrinsically intertwined. What I would suggest is that content or theme alone without the form to match is nothing. There are endless works of art... paintings, novels, poems (shall I again select Maya Angelou as an example... or perhaps To Kill a Mockingbird?) that convey themes that are certainly of great merit... that I certainly empathize with... and yet as a work of art they fall short due to aesthetic short-comings.
It may not be intentional, but the emphasis of language to the exclusion of content has that effect. It discredits less polished, more popular forms of art. It delegitimizes the masses experience, monopolizes the power (who gets to interpret, or create), brands less crafted works as different, other, alien, pretends various people are not enjoying the same thing. This bastardization of the popular experience is disenfranchisement, a negation of the pleasures regular people experience from reading, framing aesthetics as either right or wrong. The populace says, “Look here, we like the same things. What we read is more or less the same.” But the elitist says, “No, it is our differences which matter. There is no common bond. We do not enjoy the same things. Our enjoyment is different. Our books are different. We are different.”
I don't think that a preference for works of the highest aesthetic merit need be seen as elitist in this way whatsoever. In a way I would say that such accusations made by MortalTerror are but a marvelous use of rhetoric to suggest his own camaraderie with the masses... his own "being down with the folk" as opposed to snobby over-intellectualized "elitists"... but such is belied by his own aesthetic preferences and his own education (I doubt too many of the folk have ever even heard of Saussure, Chomsky, and Derrida). I might suggest this is not far from the sort of rhetoric spouted by certain politicians in attempting to suggest that their opponents have less in common with the common voter than they do.
If we admit that content is primary and language secondary, or if they were equal, or if perhaps there were such a thing as a universal then that would mean that the popular would share a common ground with the elite and would have to be judged on a gradient rather than a good/bad mutually exlusive dichotomy.
I personally do not imagine form (language) as primary... but neither would I suggest content is first. I have stated before that I feel that form and content are intertwined. Content without a strong form is nothing. Simply writing about important subjects (racism, class struggle, ethical choices, etc...) is not enough to assure a work a place among the great works of literature. On the other hand... the form married to a shallow or empty subject matter can certainly lead to rather trite... albeit beautiful... works of art. One thinks immediately of the candy-cane paintings of the French Rococo. The greatest works of art have always exhibited a marvelous merger of form and content... perhaps to the point that the two cannot be separated. Neither do I feel that the suggestion that some works of art are towering achievements immediately disqualifies everything else. Shakespeare, the Bible, Homer, Dante... and I suspect the Shanameh may be achievements that far surpass most works of art... but that does not mean that works not of this level are to be immediately excluded. I quite like Augusto Monterroso, Edgar Allen Poe, H.G. Wells, J.S. LeFanu, Lord Dunsany... and many others I am more than certain are not on the same aesthetic level. I find much to enjoy in Sir Walter Raleigh, Sir John Davies' Orchestra, and Michael Drayton's Nymphidia... in spite of the fact that they most certainly are not the equal of A Mid-Summers' Night Dream, let alone Hamlet.
Back in March we had this discussion on the Byron, Shelley, or Keats? Thread, and there also I made the case for theme, subject, and content. StLukesGuild and Petrarch's Love illustrated their position with the example of Arthur Brooke's Romeus and Juliet. They claimed that what made Shakespeare's version better was his skillful handling of language. What they failed to address, and what I was too tired to point out, was that although Brooke's Romeus and Juliet was inferior to Shakespeare's Romeo and Juliet, the content probably raised it above the main of Brooke's own oeuvre.
Mortal... you mistake me. I most certainly would not have ever made such a comparison... having never read anything by Brooke. On the other hand... I would certainly be willing to point out endless works of art that have a theme of real merit and fail to achieve the greatest level of success due to the failings of the form. Again... I don't think such comparisons are always a dichotomy of good/bad... but rather a scale of mediocre, good, better, even better, etc... Of course we all know that Mallarme's famous exclamation of ennui ("Life is long... and I have read all the books"... or words to that effect) was but empty rhetoric. None of us has the time to read... let alone fully devour and digest everything that has been written. Thus we make aesthetic decisions... and we need to make aesthetic decisions.
JBI's stand has a second effect in that it allows him to raise works of art with unworthy themes, minimal content, obscure application, and oblique language, which wallow in narcisistic eccentricity to the level of greatness by virtue of their individual diction. Case in point, his mention of Finnegans Wake. There is no subject more frivolous than that of sophistry, the splitting of hairs, and disection of language. Authors who make words their subject are prone to the worst abuses of language and self-conscious navel gazing.
Here I would raise the question as to what subjects, themes, or contents are more worthy than others... and who decides? Do we assume that erotic love or the adoration of beauty and nature are but trivialities in contrast to confronting issues such as mortality, honor, and injustice? Do we then assume that the works of art which focus upon such "trivialities" can never achieve a rank equal to the best works of art... or even equal to any work which deals with a theme of great import? Such was not far from the theory put forth in the filed of painting known as the "heirarchy of painting" in which it was suggested that any painting of a great historical painting was inherently better than even the best landscape or still-life. Undoubtedly it was against similar prejudice that the Art pour l'art movement was begun. By declaring the importance of the form or the aesthetic merit of a work of art, such artist were not so much negating the content as they were suggesting that external standards or considerations (religious, political, moral, social, etc...) should not be the measure of a work of art. Certainly the abuse of such a concept has led to self-indulgent and narcissistic schlock... but it has also meant that I can appreciate the Shahnameh, Dante's Inferno, Plato's Republic, etc... in spite of my not sharing the same religious or political values. I won't speak upon Finnegan's Wake. I was deeply impressed with Ulysses... although I far prefer Proust... but have yet given Joyce's final book the effort due.
The authors he would raise from oblivion to the heights of Mount Parnassus are the ignoble pygmies who would gild a lily, polish a turd, and pen beautiful words in a cause for which it would be waste of breath to speak. “These same people also think themselves clever if one has to be clever to understand them, as Diomedes wittily remarked, and prefer to write something that will result in amazement rather than comprehension(Erasmus, De Copia).”
Again... such seems rather false rhetoric. I have yet to hear JBI suggest we offer undying allegiance to any writer... nor have I ever suggested that even the greatest do not have their flaws and the mediocre their moments of brilliance.
Finally, JBI and StLukesGuild are fond of saying that literature is not translatable. They quote Frost and say that “Poetry is what get's lost in translation.” This is one more view that can be extrapolated from their position. If the phonemes are more important to you than the enthymemes, then of course you are going to say that nothing is translatable.
Again you wrongly accuse me. I have repeatedly defended translation:
http://www.online-literature.com/for...ad.php?t=38922
I would also like to second JBI's request that a moderator move these digressions to a separate thread where we may more fully discuss the issue without further disrupting the original dialog on American Lit.:argue:
St Lukes, I started a new thread; feel free to cut and paste that out of here.
hey i'm stumped on a question for my hw on chapters 8-16"....Critic Kristin Boudreaux states that "Dimmsdale...becomes a victim precisly because he is unable to enter into the feelings and motives of others." Draw from the text at least 2 examples how each example supports the quote. thank you !!!
Isn't world vs. man basically the same as man vs. world? Gatsby can be a hard ride but Moby Dick?! Reading the thing is an epic. It has long chapters on THE DIFFERENT SPECIES OF WHALE. The best bit was when Queequeg and Ishmael were in bed together.Quote:
Originally Posted by Dr. Hill
A man cannot fight a world if it's not against him.
The idea of a puritan streak being in conflict with a desire for freedom is true but ironic when one considers that the Pilgrim Fathers left England in order to obtain freedom for their religious beliefs.Quote:
Originally Posted by Bitterfly
I suppose that Henry James, with his equivocal attitude to sex, might be an example of puritanism in American writing but I'm sure others will correct me if I'm wrong.
The theme of the wilderness in the US appears quite early on with James Fennimore Cooper whose novels the Deerslayer and The Last of the Mohicans
portray a dangerous and savage struggle to survive amongst the indigenous peoples.Other writers who fit into the "wilderness" theme are Henry David Thoreau and Mark Twain. There is also Frank Norris whose main work dealt with the the problems of Californian wheat farmers and who is heavily influenced by Emil Zola.
The conquest of nature is probably best captured in Frank Norris's novel The Pit, which deals with the trading of wheat in Chicago and shows the attempt by one man to corner the American wheat crop. I won't comment on the "hubris, final mastery or failure" of the story because I know of at least one other contributor to this site who has the book on his pending list.
The American Dream was doomed to failure from the start because it runs contrary to human nature. There are a number American authors who have shown that, despite the overwhelming natural resources that might have allowed the dream to be realised, there were always some who tried to own more than their fair share; three good examples are Upton Sinclair's The Jungle, Frank Norris's The Octopus and the aforementioned The Pit.
The American Dream, as a phrase, became common currency throughout the 1950s following the defeat of the Axis powers and the rise of American mass consumerism, but following defeat in the Vietnam war, American writing began to discount the idea and a series of downbeat novels seems to have been the result. U.S involvment in Iraq would appear to have further dented the American dream although I don't know if it has affected American writing.
I meant that the world started it in the instances like in Moby Dick, whereas it seemed that Gatsby was the instigator for his own problems.Quote:
Originally Posted by kelby_lake
I believe you're right. I just finished Author, Author by David Lodge (a wonderful book about Henry James's last years), and it mentions the fact that James died a virgin, and obviously was, perhaps not puritanical, but wary of the body and sexuality.Quote:
Originally Posted by Brian Bean
Speaking about James, I was interested in what you said about the American voice being characterised by its innocence, Jozanny. If you read my post, would you care to explain? Do you mean there are many innocent narrators, or that there's a general wistfulness for a lost age of innocence? I would have said that innocence, its loss and its quest were themes rather than components of a voice, which is why I'm intrigued, actually. I imagined the American voice somewhat like Whitman's, but I'd be at a loss how to define it...
The Great Gatsby shows this quite well too - the last page, with its evocation of what you can imagine as a virgin continent being deflowered and thus robbed of its innocence by the very fact of its discovery.Quote:
The American Dream was doomed to failure from the start because it runs contrary to human nature.
The human nature argument is rhetoric to justify the "failure". the failure isn't because of "human nature" but of the nature of the system installed. Historically it never functioned, and the idea was a myth from its beginnings. One can approach the concept of Frontier Manifest Destiny by looking at those who died on the frontier. If we say that the Americans carved out names for themselves in the west, we must also realize that they carved it out on the corpses of a) the unmourned who died on the way, and b) the native population, that was destroyed.
The American dream has never, and was never a serious attempt at equality, or opportunity. It was merely a nationalist agenda attached to a fallacy. It isn't human nature that brought the "failure of the dream", but the nature of the dream itself - political propaganda.
bump.Quote:
Originally Posted by vega0508
Except for all the people the American Dream has failed, it has just as many success stories, you know like my Jewish immigrant family from Russia, Poland, and Austria. And to only present one side of the story like you just did is itself a blatant form of political propaganda, not to mention inaccurate.Quote:
Originally Posted by JBI
There is no denying that there are many problems in America, but there is also no denying many people who were suffering in the Old World from problems have flourished in America.
Getting this back on topic, I think the best literature that deals with this topic doesn't so much criticized the American Dream as recognizes the inherent problems with the dream and the realities of it given racism and the difficulty of social class movement. In other words, they almost always do so with both realities, the good and the bad, in mind.
Says who? What in god's name are you talking about? Do I have to show you statistics in how people in the US rose from immigrants to middle class in a generation and then beyond if so lucky? Do you want to comapre the percentage of people in the US that have owned homes across the two centuries in comparison to anywhere including Europe? Do you want to see the statistics that the US has had the highest per capita GDP going back to at least the mid 19th century (with the possible exception of England, which was based on colonialization)? The US has had the highest standard of living for the possibly over 150 year if not longer.Quote:
Originally Posted by JBI
Because a bunch of writers characterize what has been called "the American dream" as being a millionaire has nothing to do with the reality. The reality is that the American dream is ownership of a home (and not just these little flats that they have in Europe) and a middle class life.
It's very dangerous to judge reality by fiction.
Mmm. I am honored to be asked about this, Bitter, but I need to ponder the question. For a start though, I don't think Jamesian narration itself is innocent, as it is usually either third person limited/omniscient. But I think it can be argued that James catches our irritating American naivete near perfectly. Maggie is not only shocked that the Prince would sleep with Charlotte--she refuses to accept that an evil such as this would corrode the excellent freedoms she and her wealthy father enjoy, so she out-maneuvers both her worldly titled foreign husband, and her persumably ex-friend (Charlotte). What her triumph amounts to is open to question--yet it is clear she would not "look the other way" as some women might to keep their status intact. We could also take Bessie, in a shorter, less complex work, who rejects an English Lord because he cannot meet her *ideal* of what an English Lord should amount to. It is radical stuff, within James's sphere, when one really thinks about it.Quote:
Originally Posted by Bitterfly
The essential American soul is hard, isolate, stoic, and a killer. It has never yet melted. — D.H. LawrenceQuote:
Originally Posted by JBI
God, I wish. — Mortalterror
As flattering as that hard eyed, unsentimental, pragmatic myth of American strength and dominance is, the truth is we're much softer than our enemies imagine us. I wouldn't say we are a paper tiger, but there's definitely a flabby white underbelly to the nation that likes to gingerly tiptoe around people's feelings and whip itself over every crushed flower. You've been reading too much Howard Zinn and Noam Chomsky though, if that's what you really think.
Also, I'm a little surprised nobody mentioned Jack London or Henry David Thoreau when you claimed we didn't have the same kind of wilderness literature as Canada.
The Amercian soul probably was closer to Lawrence's description when he made that quote. It's throughout post WW11 consumerism that the "flabby whiteQuote:
Originally Posted by mortalterror
underbelly" has developed, and not only in America.
I was going to mention Jack London but I stupidly missed him out. However, I did mention Thoreau.
Well, yes he's the tragic hero, but he gets sucked in to the horrible vacuous world. The American Dream has posioned him:Quote:
Originally Posted by Dr. Hill
'Gatsby turned out all right at the end; it is what preyed on Gatsby, what foul dust floated in the wake of his dreams that temporarily closed out my interest in the abortive sorrows and short-winded elations of men.'
First of all, GDP is the most pointless statistic in this argument, as that doesn't show income inequality. Second of all, I don't think it is possible for you to come up with data tables that are unbiased from that time period, and would include everything.Quote:
Originally Posted by Virgil
To Drkshadow, when did your family come to the U.S.? During the 19th, or 20th century. I can't accurately respond without really knowing that, though I suspect you imply early 20th century? Or after the war?
When we talk about American development verses the "old world" we must keep in mind what the old world was. There wasn't the "uninhabited" (I use that word ironically) landmass to be taken and carved, but an already settled piece of land, with a history and a past, and I would say with less resources at disposal.
We can say that some families moved up in the social ranks, but I would say all families moved up. The economy of the States went to boom, and as a result, all prospered, or I should say most, since many didn't prosper.
When an economy goes into a boom, and has plenty of natural resources to sustain it, there is no doubt that the GDP and the average wealth of the population will increase. And, seeing as how the land only expanded, and more and more west, allowing for additional resources to be poured into the economy.
Be that as it may, sure the notion of no established classes early on was there, I won't deny that, but how long did it take for a rich elite to really form? How long did it take for Robber Barons to form in the economy? And did the lower classes really manage to "climb" as you suggest, or merely prosper. There is of course the idea that they went from nothing to perhaps millions, based on "hard work", yet did all make it so far, or just a few?
Who is to say how much of your thought on the subject is rooted in your schooling to? Perhaps there is an education bias, given that you guys say your pledge of allegiance, and read history from an American Perspective, founded on the American identity, and therefore have a nationalist sentiment from an early age. Who is to say my thought isn't biased too though, I'm sure it is to some extent, as I am sure the general American perspective is.
The point though is, the failure of the American dream. Is it a failure? Does hard work not always lead to a bettering of yourself? The 20th century in American literature would suggest that, from Gatsby to Miller, not to mention the works by various minority writers of today, which suggest a more nuanced approach to the question. I would say it is just propaganda.
I haven't even mentioned the fact that slavery existed until the 1860s, and the civil rights movement didn't come until the 1960s. Is it fair, to some extent, to say that the wealth in the southern United States came from exploitation? To what extent can we attribute the American "dream"'s truth in the raising of social status, when there were clear groups of people on virtually the bottom. It isn't a nice thought to think that the American Dream came at the cost of others, but I'm sure it is a little bit true.
Think on the scene in Gatsby when Nick sees a car drive by with an African American and a couple of white women and remarks "Only in America". Is that really true?
I'm actually surprised that there is such a defense of this "American dream", when there is actually so much literature going against it. Perhaps the historical reconfiguration of views on the past has not really taken a hold on the vision of the majority of Americans, as perhaps I suspect, or perhaps a more nuanced rejection of such attempts in fear of destroying the "national" image.
JBI, that's exactly my point. I want a nuance analysis that takes many factors into account, not one that automatically dismisses every aspect of America and the American dream because saying the American dream works for everyone and we have equality marginalizes lots of people such as blacks, the extremely poor, and Native Americans, but to make a claim that the American Dream is pure myth and has never worked for anyone marginalizes the history of many immigrants both yesterday and today.
Also, I would argue there is no such thing as literature that is against the American Dream. Almost all the literature that I suspect you would use as examples of works that are "against the American Dream" are in fact works that while criticizing it also rethink it. The second part is the key element I think.
As for the personal questions, it depends on which Great Great Grandparents. Some of them were here at the very tail end of 1800s, some got here in the earlier portion of 1900s. Both my grandfathers fought in WWII. I know the Russian side left because of the Russian pogroms against the Jews. I'm not sure about the relatives from Poland and Austria, though.
Oh, I would have guessed the moved on the Second Alliah that saw the large pouring of Russian and Polish Jews into New York, and the Birth of American Yiddish Culture, but you never know.
I just simply wanted to point out, that the American dream of anyone able to better himself is automatically a fallacy when you have people who are marginalized. If such a dream is to be "verified" as true at all, it must face the fact that not everyone had the opportunity that the dream promised, and I would say not everyone has the opportunity today that the dream promises.
I know Faulkner seems to be acting directly against the notion in Light in August. The Character of Joe Christmas seems to be somewhat reactionary to the notions of this sort. Steinbeck approaches it from a different angle, and Fitzgerald from another as well, though his is much softer, and doesn't really show the corruption as much as the others.
The I think the main point is that the market in general wasn't willing to accept contrary opinion at that point, in the sense that it was, after the second world war (though halted by Red Scare), and now today, where it has the most potential.
JBI-
I have not commented on the literary debunking of *the American Dream* because it is rather de classe at this point. All of us who have majored in literature know about *the dark side*--the long death of institutional slavery which later became de facto, the near wipe out of the Indian tribes, such that even today they have not fully joined in with our new-found rainbow coalition love chorus--pardon my mildly sardonic tone, because I really don't believe that diversity will bring on a new golden age--
We all know about the anti-hero, the shallowness of materialism, Faulkner's bleak agrarian fatalism and stark exposure of caste, which is also Steinbeck's concern, with a more utilitarian aspect, or Dos Paso's excellent exposition of the industrial speed race in the US, et al.
But most of these authors recognize, especially Henry James, the unique aspect of American optimism--including--and here I go--Barack Obama. I have not read his books yet, but I have read about them, and he is very much aware of American traditions and tropes, and steeps himself in the Ellison mold of Invisible Man, with one difference--Obama learned how to embrace his racial identity without the weight of Ellison's anguish. And we produced Obama. We, us, in these United States.
I think that speaks for itself, our capacity for renewal, rebirth, and exceptionalism; in my book the American Dream is alive--maybe not exactly healthy--but it is far from dead--and in the end I think we shall remain the global beacon for some time yet.
I'm not even going to bother because I'm just going to get upset. I wonder if anyone here has even taken an economics class. I'm sure they haven't and frankly I don't feel like arguing with people who aren't even Americans about the American experience. I have no idea how a nonAmerican learns about America through literature. It's ludicrous. So I've been on forums talking to socialists who (a) think they know economics without taking an economics class and (b) think they know America from reading. :sick: I've been there, done that, and it leads to arguments. Screw it. They don't know what they're talking about.