I believe we skipped that section...

Or so says Cameron, in explaining how Keating passed over the Realism section in the "Pritchard" textbook. Perhaps it makes sense to you now after reading stories like Bartleby, The Yellow Wallpaper, Paul's Case, and The Second Choice. I'm reminded of the exchange of verse between Keating and the Latin teacher:

Latin teacher: Show me a man unfettered by foolish dreams, and I'll show you a happy man.
Keating: But only in his dreams can a man truly be free; twas always thus and always will be.
Latin teacher: Tennyson?
Keating: No, Keating (with a wink).

So what I'm wondering is, what do you think of these realist stories? Do you think they are more relevant because they are more realistic? I sometimes think of American Literature as reaching a peak of liberation and unadulterated transcendental freedom with Walt Whitman... then everything that has followed has served to complicate the idea, to show how it's not as easy as it seems to get through the mud and muck to reach the hard bottom and say, This is. "Paul's Case" is complicated, but one thing I think it's about is how easy it is to fall into a trap where you think you are some kind of romantic individualist, but in the end you really just think you're better than "common" people. That's a dangerous trap. And while everyone would like to think they would make the brave choice and stand up against the heavy wave of social expectation, don't you think that the vast majority of people would, like Shirley, choose the easier, safer path of least resistance?

Prefer or Not to Prefer

Hi everyone. The story "Bartleby the Scrivener" is one of the most famous in all of American literature. Much of the discussion of the meaning of the story centers around the character of Bartleby himself. The big question is: What's wrong with him? If you can think and write on this question, it will help us get at some of the bigger ideas of the story during the doubles on Tuesday and Wednesday. Here are a couple of thoughts to get you started:

- Is Bartleby merely a lazy person who decides he no longer wants to work? And in this way does the story show what happens to people who isolate themselves from the world? (a variation on the theme present in "The Fall of the House of Usher").

- Is Bartleby a kind of victim? Is he someone who, through years of dehumanizing and monotonous work, has been turned into a human machine, and the story shows what happens when such a machine malfunctions?

- Is Bartleby a kind of failed industrial, modernized romantic hero? In this sense, his romantic self has been so battered and oppressed by years and years of dehumanizing labor that the only thing left is a tiny, mouse-like "I'd prefer not to." At some point he is described as being "like the last column of some ruined temple." Maybe Bartleby's "I'd prefer not to" functions as the last death rattle of romantic expression, Whitman's "Yawp" reduced to a faint cry of self-assertion just before the grave. Yeah? Maybe???

All food for thought. You might have an entirely different idea. The main question I want you to get at is... What's wrong with Bartleby?

D P S

I have seen "Dead Poet's Society" dozens of times, so rather than tell you my feelings about it I think I will pose a number of questions. Feel free to pick up on any one of them -- or more than one. Or, if you are moved, ask and answer your own questions. I will number the questions for your convenience.

1) Nwanda -- punk or hero?
2) Is the suicide glorified in any way? Or do we as readers see that Neil has options and therefore the suicide is seen as rash and misguided?
3) Is the movie, taken as a whole, more celebration or indictment of the carpe diem philosophy espoused by Keating, Whitman, Thoreau, etc.? In the end you have a suicide, a firing, and an expulsion; but you also have self-empowerment (Todd), love (Knox), and a whole bunch of teenagers who are thinking more independently than they were before.
4) Even if we can agree that Keating isn't responsible for Neil's death, does he do anything wrong? Is he blameless?
5) Fun symbolism Department. Birds. At the beginning there is a montage scene of huge flocks of birds rising and turning all together (they're wrens, in case you were wondering). Then there is an immediate cut to the kids going down the circular stairway all together (first day of school), the same directional flow as the birds in the previous shot, bringing out the "flock mentality" of the kids. Later, Knox rides his bike through a huge flock of Canada geese on his way to see Kris jump into the arms of Chet. Upsetting the flock! Also, two scenes of kids walking in the courtyard provide bookend symbols in the movie. First you have Keating encouraging his students to walk to the pace of their own drummer (a Thoreau line!) with the Latin teacher watching from the teacher's lounge above; then, at the end, you have the Latin teacher with his students in the courtyard, walking in unison, reciting something they have memorized, following already made footprints in the snow, with Keating watching from the teacher's lounge above (they wave to one another). If the style of walking is an indication, it's back to normal now in the school.

More later, but this should get you started.

Where's Waldo?

I was just reading through "Self-Reliance" for about the hundredth time and paused on this sequence:

It is easy in the world to live after the world's opinion; it is easy in solitude to live after our own; but the great man is he who in the midst of the crowd keeps with perfect sweetness the independence of solitude.

If we can forgive the sexist language (I'm sure you noticed how Emerson associates brave nonconformity with masculinity and mindless conformity with femininity), perhaps we can take a minute to appreciate this three part statement. If nothing else it is a perfect lesson in how to use the semicolon, the most under appreciated of punctuation marks.

No, seriously, I like what he says here, because it puts into words something I've felt before. Living how the world expects you to live is relatively easy. If you know how to pick up basic social cues, it is easy enough act in ways that bring us into the protected fold of society. It is also easy, when isolated, to make thoughtful decisions about the kind of person you want to be. You can close your bedroom door and make your own personal mission statement and accompanying lists of values, virtues, and resolves (like Ben Franklin). But as soon as you take that list -- and those very individualistic notions -- out into the world, you start to feel the brute power of social expectation. Truly courageous people stand up to this tidal wave of expectation, dig their feet in mud, and insist upon their own visions of themselves. To use the language of the guy from this morning's assembly, courageous people are the ones who stand up. I'm not talking about rebellion per se, or even Rosa Parks type determination -- just the simple courage to be exactly the person you are or want to be. If you decide that most gossip is mean-spirited and hurtful, then have the courage to say something your caddy friends -- or even walk away. Sometimes, in order to be true to yourself, you have to say things that create the kind of awkwardness in conversations that everyone seems to want to avoid at all costs. Later in the piece, Emerson suggests that we should speak our words as "hard as cannonballs," the exact opposite advice given to us by our good friend Ben Franklin. Cannonballs, of course, can sink ships, but in the end to have enough moral nerve to stand by an unpopular viewpoint can bring the kind of "perfect sweetness" that he mentions. Sweet!

R.I.P.

Here's one to get you started. A lot of early American authors wrote about the changes they saw happening in the new republic, the growing pains associated with the building of a nation. Irving is famous for this. Both "Rip Van Winkle" and "The Devil and Tom Walker" reflect a concern over the general direction of the country. It seems like Irving was worried that some quality of life was slowly diminishing. I'm wondering how applicable that is to our society today. RVW seems to show that as society moves ahead quickly, some human quality is left behind -- and some might argue that this is the general pattern of modernity. Every advancement is accompanied by some kind of loss, and what's lost usually involves a quality of life issue. If we look at this in a modern context, we might consider any one of a number of technological advancements that have "improved" society. Take, for instance, cell phones. Most would agree that they have improved certain aspects of daily living in a very noticeable way. But at what price? What is lost? Do you feel like the advantages of cell phones (or any other technological advancement... television, computers, internet) outweigh any collateral damage they might do? Feel free to rant and rave, shoot from the hip, tell stories, speculate wildly, or otherwise sort out your thoughts in writing.

test for period 7

hellooooo out there.