Hamlet IV

The point of no return had been reached. Ophelia's death and Polonius's death have made going back to an idyllic time when only King Hamlet was dead impossible. All of the important events in Hamlet occur solely due to the appearance of King Hamlet in ghost form, something no one was expecting, not even the cunning King Claudius. 

Would have life been better had Hamlet not began his quest for vengeance? For all then-living parties involved, there'd be peace, albeit an unjust one. However, that would mean that Polonius, Ophelia, and whomever else falls victim during the bloodshed at the end of play would be alive, most of them innocent of crimes that demand capital punishment. Claudius's crime would go unpunished but no one would suffer the imminent bloodbath. Would it be too selfish for the living to live a false peace while they're still alive?

Hamlet III

Laertes has returned to Denmark and now seeks vengeance for the death of his father, Polonius. King Claudius is particularly in support of Laertes, claiming the revenge would be just.

This justification would condemn King Claudius himself, due to his own murder of Hamlet's father. This irony is extremely apparent and serves to illustrate Claudius's hypocrisy and craftiness, bending the situation and rules as he sees fit. He has no qualms about manipulating other people and is quite well-versed in doing so. This does certainly fit his character of being a cunning man capable of murdering his own brother and to go to lengths to defend his ill-gotten power. However, he is not so cold and calculating as to remain in his calm state of mind when Hamlet put on the play intended to contrive some sort of guilt from King Claudius. In all respects otherwise, had not the supernatural intervened in the form of apparitions, King Claudius would've gotten away with it too (had it not been for some meddling 30-year olds).

Hamlet II

Prince Hamlet, whose father was killed, is exactly that. As a character, Hamlet has not yet shown any characteristics that define him nor anything to separate him from the mold of a mourning prince with a complicated love life and family issues. By 21st standards, the only standards I admittedly only know, Hamlet is, so far at least, rather two dimensional and does not have the feel of an actual person. He is introduced while still in the throes of grief of his father's untimely death. His next appearance is the inciting incident of the meeting with the ghost of his father, immediately following onto the path of finding his uncle's guilt and then confronting him. This path is rather narrow and by the end of Act II, very little character development is evident. The characters are all the same people from beginning to end.

Hamlet I

Hamlet, quite sensibly, does not immediately leap into action when the apparition of his father commands him to seek vengeance. This indecision would have been vital had Hamlet's uncle been innocent of any sort of treason or murder; however, this is the crux of the play. Within the dialogue of other characters, it is established that many of them believe Hamlet to be insane which would be a detriment to Hamlet's credibility should he seek to recruit for his cause to kill his uncle. He himself is unsure as to the actual guilt of his uncle and must spend part of the play determining it. 

But that's about as much plot as can be foreseen. A straightforward murder story ending in more murder with some love toils with Ophelia thrown in. Frankly, Hamlet's indecision and investigation are the sole reasons the play does not immediately erupt into a bloodbath (ignoring any comments into human psyche scholars have decided stem from Shakespeare's writing). 

Welcome to the Wasteland

Oddly enough, some nursery rhymes have rather dark themes. Ring around the Rosie has its origins from the plague and yet we have young children dancing and laughing to the lyrics (?) with the meaning of the words they're chanting lost to them. Same goes with London Bridge and its falling down.

However, instead being of innocent morbidity of those rhymes, The Wasteland is blatantly so with its own rhymes. The meaning is not very obvious at the beginning, but the last few parts mention death by name and suffering by theme. But despite its depressing topic, The Wasteland fails to faze me. Talk of inevitable perishing and such definitely involves questions that even constant brooding will not provide a satisfactory answer. That is why I find it much easier to not care about the issue whatsoever. I understand death and am not naïve enough to believe it won't happen but contemplation of these saddening topics should not derail from the enjoyment of life, which I think is something Virginia Woolf failed to take into account as she wrote about burning moths and and shell shock.

A message to all: life is infinitely worth living.

Song of the Dead

"Three young ladies laughed in musical echo" (Joyce 10). 

"A chorus of voices" (Joyce 28). 

Music, particularly that of song, is very recurrent in in James Joyce's The Dead. Metaphors such as the above can be found practically on every other page, with at least an indirect mentioning of singing among all the singer heard during the party. This harmony, the serenity and organized atmosphere, is in contrast with Gabriel's hectic position at the gathering, him perhaps having a rather awkward time there interacting with other guests and the hostesses. 

As both a symbol and a metaphor, the music and musical references may stand as vehicles for the concept of comfort and skill in the social environment. The figurative language goes as far as to mention a famous tenor to mention a literary tenor. Those with musical talent (or at least showcased it, be it via actual performance or through metaphor) lack the social anxiety that Gabriel feels. Harmony and melody is the measure of social standing.

In the Way

After reading Virginia Woolf's Mrs. Dalloway, I maintain my stance in its lack of appeal to all those without strong philosophical longing and the enigmatic presentation of such philosophies. The messages that can be construed make almost a mockery of society as it was in the immediately post-WWI. Doctors, as Virginia Woolf was apparently known for despising, are very genuinely terrible when they suffer from a destructive combination of both malpractice and power in the community. A patient is entrusting his or her body to physicians and a physician with a medical know-how that hurts more than heals are truly something society can do without. And yet, those very same people are rewarded by parties while they are the ones who are oblivious to a regret they should have: Sir William Bradshaw had the most in driving force of Septimus's death. Almost a spiteful irony. The decorated soldier killed by the doctor meant to heal the reason the soldier was decorated. Compared to this, the regrets that plague the other characters are superficial, but a regret's magnitude can only be felt by the person with it. No amount of empathy or identification will completely share an experience, even when characters are protrayed as realistic as the author was capable of. Real humans have trouble being empathetic to other real humans as it is.

End of Dalloway

Mrs. Dalloway claims to enjoy life. Her party, which is supposed to be the embodiment of this enjoyment, is dimmed by the mention of Septimus's death and the presence of the Bradshaws. After a novel of a lifetime's worth of pensive regrets condensed into one day, an action that had occurred relatively recently. Depite the death, the party goes on, even entertaining the ones who indirectly brought about the suicide. The assembled characters are all of rather high social standing and talk of comoarably superficial topics and lament is kept to a minimum.arties are meant for people to enjoy themselves after all. These people live their lives but their souls, their reason for living is lacking: they have no purpose in life but to cast judgement on others and spend their time in self-gratification and self-satisfaction. Even Sally, who Clarissa had but endless praise for, has changed her ways to conform with society.

Septimus's suicide was to escape such an oppressive society that would go to condemn the mentally unstable. On the opposite end of the spectrum would be Mrs. Dalloway and her peers, conforming and reaping the material benefits.

Should knowing life will be full of regrets stop us from trying to have as little as possible anyway?

Philanthropy

Post Regret

The events in Mrs. Dalloway take place over the course of a single day. It's about as slice of life as anything can be. The day is not terribly important: Mrs. Dalloway seems more or less accustomed to hosting parties and the various meetings with those around her are only slightly more than mundane, nothing life re-defining (as of yet, anyway). In exploration of why Virginia Woolf wrote this novel and why it has the acclaim it has, perhaps we must look at why and how the book was written rather than what it was written about.

Settling on the fact that stream of conciousness reflects reality, why is Mrs. Dalloway depicted as realistically as possible? Many conclusions can be drawn from this: to warn of regret, to show how time changes people, to understand how a person goes about a day. All of these go hand in hand. A human mind can think of potentially thousands of different thoughts every day and they will often linger in the sections for memory. Having even broached the topic of regrets is going to occupy the conciousness of any person for a while, no matter how much he or she wants to stop thinking about it and forget about it (this is even happening to me as I write this). 

However, I ponder if Woolf's message is not to warn about regret but rather to assuage any fears of them. Mrs. Dalloway, with her fair share of regrets, lives her life more or less comfortably, an outcome she would not have had had she'd chosen a different path along the journey of her life. She's not terribly happy but she's not sad about her life either. The only path we know is the path we take. It is natural to have regrets that we dwell on far too much, but be sure to realize you don't regret the life you're living now.

What's to Like

I, personally, have three different categories for sorting the books I read in terms of preference: books I like, books I dislike, and books I am indifferent about (by far the largest category). Mrs. Dalloway sits unceremoniously within the indifferent category. While the novel may be hard to follow at times, I don't share the derision some of my classmates feel about Virginia Woolf's writing style and I actually find the regrets Clarissa Dalloway expresses to be somewhat relatable, albeit on a much smaller scale. On the other hand, nothing about Mrs. Dalloway as of yet has had ample appeal to me. 

My taste in books are usually for more fast-paced novels. This would usually be more action-oriented stories rather than sentimental thoughts. Knowing how characters think and feel is still an important part of any story but actions are more readily reflective of a character's ideals or morals. While actions and events do occur in Mrs. Dalloway, the characters seem very passive, as if they were simply letting the actions happen to themselves, and then wallowing in their own self-pity (Septimus with the sky-writing, Mrs. Dalloway and Peter). Despite the passivity, this does accurately portray real human thinking. No one has profound thoughts at all times and most of our thoughts are utterly boring to an audience. And we whine constantly. 

That's not to say we don't have interesting thoughts from time to time, though. It's just rather troublesome to find them as they must be sifted from the endless clutter that is the drawl of human thought. Gems will appear if words are put in enough different combinations, which is why I can't place any book within the category of books I dislike, barring truly dreadful prose.

More on Mrs. Dalloway

Perhaps rather intriguing is the juxtaposition of Mrs. Dalloway and Septimus Warren Smith within part one. They seem to represent the two very prominent groups of people during a post-war period: forward-looking optimists (who only seems to look backward in this novel) and the ones who are too scarred to forget it. 

The passages that introduce the setting mention the end of the Great War in passing, only casually taking the time and effort to simply acknowledge that some have died. The importance was placed on the jovial setting that the end of the war had created for the better. Even when a car, a very new technological introduction to consumers at the time, backfires, people are surprised rather than afraid, even politely apologizing for it, despite the crowd that gathers having nothing to do with the incident. Even more telling is the fact that the sound of the backfiring was likened to that of a gunshot and yet very few people reacted in a negative manner, rather, they even entertained fantasies of having noticed that the prince of Wales, or the Prime Minister was in the car.

Conversely, Septimus Smith is shocked by the noise and falls back onto suffering. He doesn't share the bright optimism by the crowd, but a series if delusions. Unlike Mrs. Dalloway who dwelves into the past of her own will, Septimus Smith is perpetually haunted by his past, seeing his dead comrade among other things. I have not decided what the significance of this duality is, but the contrast that it shows reminds the readers that not all is well even at the war's conclusion. 

Mrs. Dalloway

A peculiarity arises in Virginia Woolf's Mrs. Calloway. Somewhat like The Sound and the Fury by William Faulkner, there is a blend between temporal planes, namely past and present, and thoughts within the head. However, unlike Benjy's pseudo-spontaneous transitions, Mrs. Carissa Richard Calloway's thoughts drift based on more concrete occurrences such as the encounter with Hugh early in the novel (as opposed to transitions within Benjy's narration in The Sound and the Fury based on less tenuous things like the smell of grass). By stringing together both the induced flashbacks as well as the musings of Mrs. Calloway, Woolf, like Faulkner, gives the illusion of time. In purposely having less regard to timeline than more conventional authors, more of the readers' focus is diverted into remaining cognizent of the time period in which the scene they are currently reading takes place (at least, upon first reading). This forces closer reading and increases the duration of which any particular scene takes up, but more than that, it reflects a more realistic way of human thought. Rather than from point A to point B, human thought often makes pauses to ponder something else, be it relevant to whatever is happening at the time or not. This lack of linearization is perfectly suitable in a novel where significance is placed in each individual's way of thinking.

More on The Things They Carried

Is the purpose of a story to tell the truth or to convey an idea?

Obviously, the truth is required when giving accounts that have possible real consequences, but a story such as that written by O'Brien has no such need for it. A war story, according to him, has no need to tell the full truth. Details are omitted or overwritten over time, ebbing as memories do. The point of stories is their way of telling an emphatic tale and provoking a thought or further insight into a subject, such as Mary Anne's eventual integration into Vietnam. We, as the readers, hear the story second hand via O'Brien via Rat Kiley, so the story, barring complete fiction, is unreliable in truth. However, the basic substance of the story is of the idea someone can be so immersed into the war in Vietnam. 

 Fiction exists for some authors as war stories exist for their tellers, and they are allowed to be no different in O'Brien's written words. After all, war stories are rather difficult to investigate for truth, with evidence easily destroyed or erased by the ravages and chaos of war. The battlefield is large and full of interfering factors. We have no way of verifying if O'Brien actually killed someone in Vietnam, much less if it was the young soldier trudging along the path. So when he says that he can honestly say he didn't kill a man and he can honestly say he did, does it matter?

Memories from a long time ago are very probable to be inaccurate, having had details invented while written down, but more than that, O'Brien feels as if only his memory is keeping the people close to him alive. Such people would be anyone like Linda and those who are close only at time of death, such as the Viet Cong soldiers he never outright admits to killing. As he writes about the time after Linda's death, he has the impression that Linda was alive in his dreams, leading to his increasingly early bed times. By writing this book about the juxtaposition of life and death, O'Brien, in his own way, keeps the various people who've died in his life alive.

A War's Worthy Weights (The Things They Carried)

Even among the multitude of items a soldier must carry into battle, among the rifling gear and ammunition and voluminous myriad of things intended for survival is certainly enough room for what remains of Willliam's strength to carry just a little more. Almost too sensibly, the things he carried amounted to no more than 2 pounds. 

First is a quarter from his home state of Maryland. More than a symbol of patriotism, the coin serves to kill time when not killing others; there is an art to coin flipping. In a pinch, a coin flip can settle unneeded disputes among comrades. Leaving one more thing to chance in a field of chaotic probabilities is no great loss on the part of anyone. 

Next is a pen, nothing especially remarkable along with a notebook. The tip is sharp enough should the situation call for it and there is always occasion to write. In lieu of paper, an arm could serve perfectly as a canvas. It carries the hope that what has been written will one day return to be read by family and friends who did not experience the horror of war.

Third and final is a watch. A timepiece is no doubt valuable in a place where confusion runs amok. This certain watch is a G-Shock series, known for its durability and was a gift from William's cousin as he entered high school. It heralded new times and all of the times since were recorded upon its clock face. A war should be no different. The times past and awaiting will see to it that they are a part of who he is now.

Unaccustomed Earth (summer reading post 5/5)

The pseudo-second person point of view (interrupted sporadically by third person) used by Lahiri throughout Part Two was a mechanic that caught me off guard. Instead of focusing on the narrator as the main character, we see Kaushik entirely from Hema's perspective and vice versa for some chapters. It conveys a heightened sense of perspective that allowed for the pure emotion, which is the crux of this novel's appeal.

Personally, I enjoyed this method of story telling very much and the characters in this presentation felt like genuine friends with whom I have been acquainted with for a very long time. The time skips between chapters gives the illusion of having gone a great passage through time. As Hema and Kaushik address one another as "you" directly, it drives home the fact that their relationship is a peculiar one, having had three separate periods of their lives spent living in close proximity. Despite the fact that their relationship reaches fruition, so to speak, during the shortest of these three periods, they have a bond that was cemented through childhood and adulthood. 

The informal second person address is a perfect way to reflect their informality. They lived under the same roof but were not siblings and spent time together with little regard of Hema's fiancé, Navin. The entire section could be interpreted as a loose conversation. But there was no avoiding the paths they each had led, however much they intersected. In the end, the paths terminated in a rather grim fashion.

Unaccustomed Earth (summer reading post 4/5)

I finished Lahiri's Unaccustomed Earth without ever glancing at the page numbers unless to keep my place, never anticipating the end. And even then, I would soon return to the book, as it captivated me in a way I am incapable of explaining. Each short story felt an eternity, yet too short causing me to yearn for more. I became distraught when the stories changed and the characters changed, as I wanted to learn more of what happens to the characters who've grown and changed under my reading eyes and moving on felt as if I was abandoning them. The cycle would repeat until Hema and Kaushik. It gave me what I was missing from the previous stories: had Ruma's father moved in with his daughter? Did Amit's and Megan's marriage actually remain intact as the ending alludes? In other words: an explicit conclusion.

But in another way, the end of part two was wholly unsatisfactory (as of five minutes after reaching the end). I am accustomed to any instance of romance ending happily for all protagonists involved, even after a period of hardship, struggle, or heartbreak. The abrupt divorce of Deborah and Pranab in the second short story was not ample psychological preparation. As unfortunate of a heartbreak as it was (both with Deborah and Usha's mother), it would not amount to a requited love abandoned at its climax. Even so, this novel ranks amongst the highest of my favorites and I wished it had not ended.

Upon revisitation a few weeks later, the end of the novel presents a harsh reality that can easily happen to anyone. Humans are fragile beings, no matter how much personal development they have gone through (as some authors who give ample character development before scripting their characters' deaths). Everything Kaushik had in his mind as possibilities of a future, whether with or without Hema, would never be realized, and Hema's future is one of lukewarm emotion, something she will apparently have to harbor for the rst of her life. Even for those of us who lead rich and honest lives can have them torn apart irreparably.

Unaccustomed Earth (summer reading post 3/5)

Before this blog post officially begins, I would like to preface that I, born in the US, come from an immigrant family. Although not Bengali as the families are in Unaccustomed Earth, I believe our experiences have thus far been comparable.

A very obvious recurring theme is the comparison between American and Calcuttan cultures.  From the very first short story onwards, a sharp distinction is drawn between the immigrant parents and the fully Americanized children. With all their good intentions, they still fail to understand that the American life they dreamed of can ail their children.

"In their opinion their children were immune from the hardships and injustices they had left behind in India, as if the inoculations the pediatrician had given Sudha and Rahul when they were babies guaranteed them an existence free of suffering" (156).

America, as a society, seeks normality. Immigrant children are expected to grow into that mold but they have to chisel their way into the sought after conformity. Childhood is a distressing time to be standing out, where differences were enunciated by peers who know nothing different from their own lives. "Potato curry sandwiches that tinted Wonderbread green" naturally stand out amongst...well, I'm not entirely sure, myself having been accustomed to similarly "exotic" lunches (143). I can say from personal experience that this invites a curiosity that makes you the center of attention when you are generally unknown. It is uncomfortable and contrary to the usual social neglectment. It is not that we are not unable to eventually adapt, but barriers stand along the path that would typically be trivial.

Don Quixote (summer reading post 2/5)

Throughout the novel, Cervantes intermittently interjects with his own comments on the story, especially in the second part. Certain details in the first part are inconsistent, as was the case with Sancho's donkey or rather the theft of said donkey. Cervantes notes this in part two readily, even under the precept of the story of our eccentric knight-errant being a work of nonfiction. While the novel definitely references true occurrences (such as the publication and distribution of the first part), the author takes liberties in his story telling. 

"In a village of La Mancha, the name of which I have no desire to call to mind, there lived not long since one of those gentlemen that keep a lance on the lance-rack..." (1).

Even on the first line, Cervantes takes a very conspicuous casual tone while simultaneously erasing any doubt of this novel's seriousness. There will be none of it. Beyond the whimsical adventures of Don Quixote that we will become acquainted with, Cervantes (or Cide Hamete Benengeli as Cervantes would have us believe) also breaks the fourth wall (a term, to my surprise, my seventh grade English teacher was not learned of). In the world in which his misadventures exist, Don Quixote manages to become aware of a published piece sharing the ordeals he had partaken in. By doing so, Don Quixote becomes a self-referential book and the characters, while not surmising they exist only within the realm of fiction, realize that there is an audience witnessing their travels and trials to stop those travels. This, to say the least, is a writing technique rarely seen as it completely destroys some sense of immersion which is often counter productive when authors built their narratives. However, Cervantes's use of breaking the fourth wall fulfills his purpose of crafting Don Quixote as the character he is.

Don Quixote (summer reading post 1/5)

First impressions of Don Quixote

"By these words of his the travelers were able to satisfy themselves of Don Quixote's being out of his senses and of the form of madness that overmastered him" (Cervantes 52).

       De Cervantes opens his story with a rather novel character. The self-christened Don Quixote is an eccentric man at best and I hesitate to label him as a protagonist in the traditional sense, despite his position in the novel clearly fitting that role. Though well educated in the legends and lore of the knights of the past, the knight-errant has little social understanding of the world he lives in, instead believing to be enveloped in a knight's legend, a knight's world. His vision of knighthood is also incredibly romanticized. Rather than as mercenaries as knights were in true history, Don Quixote envisions them as something much more idealistic: a yearner for a maiden and a righter of wrongs. However, this ideal clouds his perception of reality: he was convinced in one of his early forays that giants had been turned to windmills by a sorcerer's magic. His apparent insanity is instantly recognized by those whom he meets during his travels; the fanciful speech he speaks in being a dead giveaway. By seeking adventure, he also seeks conflict and makes it where there was none before. He intermittently attacks other travelers, often invoking the name of his Dulcinea of Toboso and accusing the target party of a crime that had not been committed. Evidently, Don Quixote is not on the side of any virtue and his story involves mishap after mishap, a fact he does not notice. As such, his decisions are heavily influenced by a naïveté stoked by the books of chivalry that kindled his interests in knighthood. Those very same books were the reason he set out for his second sally, as they burned and charred away.