To ask what kind of person Nick is without specifying time is a bit tricky. The perspective we have of Nick changes as he gets older and more confident in himself. Nick is very quiet when we read Indian camp. He doesnt quite know how to respond to the chaos.
When reading on we start to see the process of maturity. It takes a while for him to even state his own opinions. He is at first complacent and uninspired and kind of soft. He respects his father a great deal.
His friend Bill and his girlfriend Maragrieare are influencial as well. He has no backbone to even stand up for his girlfriend because he feels embarrased that she is indian. I really dont feel that Nick is either very intelligent, witty or even strong metally or physically. He seems to very normal and nothing special.
In the Battler he has a very strang experience that helps him to have a better scope on life. He seems a bit more inquisitive and intriqued by strang people.
Many more things help to shape Nicks maturity, but after his experience in war; his backpacking trip helps explain a lot about his personality.
He is quite busy with plans and focus of every detail of his trip. He is a sponge soaking up nature's glory down to the charcoaled cricket.
I didnt get a sense of his avoidence of his own mind untill he was setting up camp. It seems like theres a lot going on that he is blocking with a dam of certain events of instant reality. I truly believe the vingettes are a comparison between reality and fantasy, dreams and being awake. This dam is uncontrollable when one is sleeping and the mind is unleashed to be free and as wild as it can.
I think Hemminway was interested in the contrast, comparison and stuggle between opposing forces both in emotional tension and physical brutality.
Hemmingway has shown us this struggle in a number of ways.
I think Nick's issue is his stuggle of the mind in conflict with past hardships. He doesnt want to face his own mind.
Nick's father is similar in that he has temper issues. He has an acceptance complex. He is affended easily and this is even more magnified by his wife. He finds solace in his son Nick because he knows that his own son looks up to him.
Hemmingway's stories show the vulneralbility of especially Nick and his father. I think that at the time Hemmingway was writing these stories he may not of been as conscious of this clash of one's own mirrored consiousness. I bet Hemmingway was either experiencing similar situations in his own life or saw it around him. His stories are simple but they cut to the core of the human experience.
Wednesday, February 28, 2007
Thursday, February 22, 2007
Reflections on today's class
I hope I'm not wasting anyone's time by posting this. Just thought it was sort of the use for the class blog.
So, in the middle of class I mentioned a Hemingway quote from our short story textbook and might have made it sound like I thought the stories were "true." I guess what I was trying to say was that they were true in the Tim O'brien sense, that whole: "yes, at some point he sat in a room and drank with his friend. But what matters is that there is a certain truth to that event, one that should be considered." I know John Keats had the same idea, and I don't feel I'm totally wrong in saying that, even though the meaning isn't as clear as some may have wanted it, that truth serves as a panacea for many readers.
I know that Hemingway liked Tolstoy. I don't know if he was familiar with Tolstoy's ideas on what constituted good art. I wasn't familiar until a week ago, when it came up in my philosophy class. Tolstoy thought that art should forge a moral community between people. Sure, late in life Tolstoy cracked out, and may have held religious convictions that were too strong for my taste, but I realized that, even if that community wasn't a Christian one, as Tolstoy wanted, there is some truth in the idea. I have trouble understanding why someone would have written countless drafts of a story and then decided that they wanted to make it completely inaccessible. I've also noticed that it seems like the most illiterate people sometimes gravitate towards those books that rely so heavily on their author's eurudition. Before I had read many books at all I read portrait of the artist as a young man and dubliners, and those books spoke to me. Joyce, in my opinion, for his reliance on allusion, was much more pretentious than Hemingway, and yet, I, in my completely illiterate state, just after high school, adored those books so much. Even if Hemingway was pretentious, I doubt that it was to drive a seperation between people or to flaunt it. I mean, I can read an entire book of Hemingway's without having to pick up a dictionary.
I've never really understood how someone can dislike a story because of how much effort an author puts into it. I've always felt that if the story be appreciated as a beautiful collection of words, and if people study the sentences, the format, regardless of who started what fight, they might come to see the same. I empathize with Derek's disgust at having to read something in class he already read and loved. When I form a personal bond with a work of art I hate it when people tell me I'm right or wrong, or even when they try to make me explain myself. Emotions are difficult to capture in words, and it seemed like that's part of the reason we tell stories. I certainly can't explain what it _feels_ like to read a story. Stories seem like the closest to magic in this world, to me, anyway.
I've read some books on writting and reading. A common thing authors seem to touch on is intertextuality: this story is related to that story and so on, culminating in one big story, the story that every story tries to tell. They're all the same. When I read a new author I normally have doubts; it takes me a while to understand the author. If it ever becomes to difficult, I think of something contemporary I've read, maybe look into an author I like, and try to find out where that author got their influences. Reading the books they liked most is the closest thing to stepping into the head of the person who wrote the book, not that side of the person that is the artist.
If someone happens to read something they don't like, just try to remember those things. The artist wrote the books to tell the reader something, and to make them feel something. Not because she wanted to bore people or make them talk in class. Don't get me wrong, class has value. And people are entitled to their opinions. And not a day goes by when I hear something in class I wish I had thought of for myself. Just figured it might make things bearable to look at a story in this way if anyone is reading something they dislike.
So, in the middle of class I mentioned a Hemingway quote from our short story textbook and might have made it sound like I thought the stories were "true." I guess what I was trying to say was that they were true in the Tim O'brien sense, that whole: "yes, at some point he sat in a room and drank with his friend. But what matters is that there is a certain truth to that event, one that should be considered." I know John Keats had the same idea, and I don't feel I'm totally wrong in saying that, even though the meaning isn't as clear as some may have wanted it, that truth serves as a panacea for many readers.
I know that Hemingway liked Tolstoy. I don't know if he was familiar with Tolstoy's ideas on what constituted good art. I wasn't familiar until a week ago, when it came up in my philosophy class. Tolstoy thought that art should forge a moral community between people. Sure, late in life Tolstoy cracked out, and may have held religious convictions that were too strong for my taste, but I realized that, even if that community wasn't a Christian one, as Tolstoy wanted, there is some truth in the idea. I have trouble understanding why someone would have written countless drafts of a story and then decided that they wanted to make it completely inaccessible. I've also noticed that it seems like the most illiterate people sometimes gravitate towards those books that rely so heavily on their author's eurudition. Before I had read many books at all I read portrait of the artist as a young man and dubliners, and those books spoke to me. Joyce, in my opinion, for his reliance on allusion, was much more pretentious than Hemingway, and yet, I, in my completely illiterate state, just after high school, adored those books so much. Even if Hemingway was pretentious, I doubt that it was to drive a seperation between people or to flaunt it. I mean, I can read an entire book of Hemingway's without having to pick up a dictionary.
I've never really understood how someone can dislike a story because of how much effort an author puts into it. I've always felt that if the story be appreciated as a beautiful collection of words, and if people study the sentences, the format, regardless of who started what fight, they might come to see the same. I empathize with Derek's disgust at having to read something in class he already read and loved. When I form a personal bond with a work of art I hate it when people tell me I'm right or wrong, or even when they try to make me explain myself. Emotions are difficult to capture in words, and it seemed like that's part of the reason we tell stories. I certainly can't explain what it _feels_ like to read a story. Stories seem like the closest to magic in this world, to me, anyway.
I've read some books on writting and reading. A common thing authors seem to touch on is intertextuality: this story is related to that story and so on, culminating in one big story, the story that every story tries to tell. They're all the same. When I read a new author I normally have doubts; it takes me a while to understand the author. If it ever becomes to difficult, I think of something contemporary I've read, maybe look into an author I like, and try to find out where that author got their influences. Reading the books they liked most is the closest thing to stepping into the head of the person who wrote the book, not that side of the person that is the artist.
If someone happens to read something they don't like, just try to remember those things. The artist wrote the books to tell the reader something, and to make them feel something. Not because she wanted to bore people or make them talk in class. Don't get me wrong, class has value. And people are entitled to their opinions. And not a day goes by when I hear something in class I wish I had thought of for myself. Just figured it might make things bearable to look at a story in this way if anyone is reading something they dislike.
Wednesday, February 21, 2007
I used to blog (on the livejournal) a little bit, and hope that I'm not exercising too much freedom with the blogger or what we've talked about in class. Noticed also this blog isn't the one appearing on class blogs, but I'm not a member of that one. Wanted to note two things: first, I hope I didn't sound pretentious earlier. I do like Hemingway and understand his relevance, just see him a lot in English classes. No big deal. Why should I complain about reading great stories? I should be so lucky... Second is unrelated, but related to art. Patrick told us he was a musician and had an interest in classical music. I was wondering if he had heard of Philip Glass, and heard on the radio about some of Glass's music being performed this weekend by the BSO. It's my birthday tomorrow and think I might be lucky enough to have my parents buy me a ticket for the cheap seats. If you're interested in going check this: http://www.baltimoresymphony.org/ . Also, www.lifethroughtime.com is supposed to be related...
Look forward to seeing everyone in class tomorrow, haven't finished the stories but will tonight.
Look forward to seeing everyone in class tomorrow, haven't finished the stories but will tonight.
Tuesday, February 20, 2007
In response to the attempt at initiating dialogue
I appreciate your (Melinda's) attempt to establish a dialogue relating to class. In the beginning of class you mentioned you were an actor, and, if you are familiar with Samuel Beckett's work, there is an exhibit at UMBC containing correspondence (who cares...), photographs of theatrical productions, and a short film that I had never before seen, the best part.
Concerning my view of the stories in class, Poe was one of those guys everyone had heard of, but whom I'd never read... And now I know why, although I did enjoy the stories... somewhat. I prefer Hawthorne if gothic stories are of concern, and, from my understanding (according to an american lit text book), they were just as influential. Poe's comments in the text are actually in regards to Hawthorne.
Chekhov was wonderful. It was nice to see stories that aren't included in signet or barnes and nobel editions of his work. Even though I'd already read it, I liked the lady with the pet dog.
It dissapoints me that we are spending so much time on Hemmingway. I would have expected many people who are interested in the subject to have read him, but was apparently wrong. I'm of the Faulkner camp of modern american literature and also feel he did more for the short story. His collected stories contains more, and more interesting, stories. He also wrote novels that blur the line between short story collection and novel: (I have heard) If I Sing for the Jerusalem, The Sound and the Fury (in some sense). But this isn't scholarly opinion, and is mostly based on heresay. I think the Snopeses contain more than Nick Adams. But truthfully, I've only read some stories, Intruder in the dust, Light in august, Sanctuary, Absalom! Absalom!, and am nearly finished The Sound and the Fury. From Hemmingway I've read some of these stories, Old Man and the Sea, The Sun also Rises, and For Whom the Bell Tolls. Not really enough to claim one guy was good and one was "bad."
Hemmingway's style turns me off... I feel like a big part of why teachers love him is that he is so declamatory. If students are going to be influenced by a writer, why not make it one that might make grading easy?
I understand writting like Faulkner takes a different kind of skill, but would think maliable minds would learn to adapt their voice from Faulkner. Although largely informal, there's a lot that could be taken as active in his writting. And though he may ramble, his words are rarely superfluous. A page description of the sound of a key turning definately has significance. And where else would one hear a similie comparing a cop in a dilapitated car to someone (not a woman) sweeping the floor.
Concerning my view of the stories in class, Poe was one of those guys everyone had heard of, but whom I'd never read... And now I know why, although I did enjoy the stories... somewhat. I prefer Hawthorne if gothic stories are of concern, and, from my understanding (according to an american lit text book), they were just as influential. Poe's comments in the text are actually in regards to Hawthorne.
Chekhov was wonderful. It was nice to see stories that aren't included in signet or barnes and nobel editions of his work. Even though I'd already read it, I liked the lady with the pet dog.
It dissapoints me that we are spending so much time on Hemmingway. I would have expected many people who are interested in the subject to have read him, but was apparently wrong. I'm of the Faulkner camp of modern american literature and also feel he did more for the short story. His collected stories contains more, and more interesting, stories. He also wrote novels that blur the line between short story collection and novel: (I have heard) If I Sing for the Jerusalem, The Sound and the Fury (in some sense). But this isn't scholarly opinion, and is mostly based on heresay. I think the Snopeses contain more than Nick Adams. But truthfully, I've only read some stories, Intruder in the dust, Light in august, Sanctuary, Absalom! Absalom!, and am nearly finished The Sound and the Fury. From Hemmingway I've read some of these stories, Old Man and the Sea, The Sun also Rises, and For Whom the Bell Tolls. Not really enough to claim one guy was good and one was "bad."
Hemmingway's style turns me off... I feel like a big part of why teachers love him is that he is so declamatory. If students are going to be influenced by a writer, why not make it one that might make grading easy?
I understand writting like Faulkner takes a different kind of skill, but would think maliable minds would learn to adapt their voice from Faulkner. Although largely informal, there's a lot that could be taken as active in his writting. And though he may ramble, his words are rarely superfluous. A page description of the sound of a key turning definately has significance. And where else would one hear a similie comparing a cop in a dilapitated car to someone (not a woman) sweeping the floor.
Monday, February 19, 2007
Classic to modern
So! Here goes, with the Chekhov and the Poe comparison:
Chekhov's short stories indicate a shift into what has become the modern perspective by focusing on character development, regardless of events, and by making a plot only so far as it concerns the psyche of the characters. The fiction illumines the struggle to come to understanding, depicts the momentary aspect of life, and betrays the moralistic attitudes of previous writters. For Chekhov, people are wounded, terrible, and flawed to immense degrees, yet loveable and understandable.
With Poe, the good guy's the good guy, the bad guy's the antagonist, and the inconsiderate cur should have kept himself to himself. With such one-dimensional characters, it is not hard to understand the focus on forms such as detective stories, ghost stories, and the augury of science fiction. As is the case with the contemporary counterparts, the morals of such forms stand above the work itself: when we watch star trek, we know we should love Uhru and spock, shatner and (get this) chekhoff, all working together to triumph over terrible evils, despite their differences.
The humanitarian foci of chekhov tend to teach us, essentially, nothing about the world, and yet, at the same time, a great deal. We come to understand the human condition, the flawed nature of our pursuits, and our desires to understand this or that, or seek this or that. We are not told what is right and wrong; we are not told that such and such is crazy, but are asked to see him from his perspective--if this example makes sense...
Also, Mr. Chekhov likes to leave us wondering and betrays finality. Although the frame story was used by many an author, we are left feeling that Ivan could have told another story, wanted to hear another story, or we at least understand that, when we leave him, he and his buddies will live on, an idea that seems to have eluded Poe, with his monstrosity signaling a fall-down, drop-out, everything short of an "and-everyone-lived-(un)happily-ever-after" ending.
Chekhov took a picture; Poe liked his stories with a once upon a time. (I hope I haven't made it sound as though I don't care for Poe. There may be a little to much finality in my own words.)
Chekhov's short stories indicate a shift into what has become the modern perspective by focusing on character development, regardless of events, and by making a plot only so far as it concerns the psyche of the characters. The fiction illumines the struggle to come to understanding, depicts the momentary aspect of life, and betrays the moralistic attitudes of previous writters. For Chekhov, people are wounded, terrible, and flawed to immense degrees, yet loveable and understandable.
With Poe, the good guy's the good guy, the bad guy's the antagonist, and the inconsiderate cur should have kept himself to himself. With such one-dimensional characters, it is not hard to understand the focus on forms such as detective stories, ghost stories, and the augury of science fiction. As is the case with the contemporary counterparts, the morals of such forms stand above the work itself: when we watch star trek, we know we should love Uhru and spock, shatner and (get this) chekhoff, all working together to triumph over terrible evils, despite their differences.
The humanitarian foci of chekhov tend to teach us, essentially, nothing about the world, and yet, at the same time, a great deal. We come to understand the human condition, the flawed nature of our pursuits, and our desires to understand this or that, or seek this or that. We are not told what is right and wrong; we are not told that such and such is crazy, but are asked to see him from his perspective--if this example makes sense...
Also, Mr. Chekhov likes to leave us wondering and betrays finality. Although the frame story was used by many an author, we are left feeling that Ivan could have told another story, wanted to hear another story, or we at least understand that, when we leave him, he and his buddies will live on, an idea that seems to have eluded Poe, with his monstrosity signaling a fall-down, drop-out, everything short of an "and-everyone-lived-(un)happily-ever-after" ending.
Chekhov took a picture; Poe liked his stories with a once upon a time. (I hope I haven't made it sound as though I don't care for Poe. There may be a little to much finality in my own words.)
Sunday, February 11, 2007
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