In Ngugi Wa Thiong'o's "Wedding at the Cross," the recipients meet three main characters that shape the story: Wariuki, a poor, yet happy milk clerk; Mariamu, a pretty youth born into "white privilege" in Africa, and Douglas Jones, her father. Wariuki fell in love with Mariamu, so her father arrange a meeting with Wariuki to assess his ability to care for his daughter. In all reality, he knew of Wariuki's station. His motive was to humiliate Wariuki into leaving behind the notion of ever marrying his daughter. This shame lit a fire in Wariuki's heart that he would spend his entire life trying to extinguish, leading him far from his initial love for Mariamu, and changing his entire character in the process.
The two lovers eloped, and for a time, lived together in poverty and extreme bliss. The shame that Douglas Jones instilled in Wariuki could not be ignored, however, and the need for revenge began to consume his life. He soon left his love to travel, continuously trying to find better employment, even at the expense of his patriotism at times, doing deeds that would be condemned by his fellow countrymen. This did not trouble him any-- his main motive in life was to overcome the failure that Douglas Jones had made him feel.
He came into wealth and found Christianity eventually, which is when he knew he could flaunt his success in front of Douglas Jones, although it ended poorly for him with Mariamu, remembering the man she fell in love with, left him at the altar. His fear of failure and incessant need for revenge against Jones backfired. He had been poor of money but rich of experience at the beginning-- now, at the end, he became rich of money but poor of experience.
The biggest literary device employed by Wa Thiong’o in the writing of “Wedding at the Cross” is antithesis. He switches between the story of Wariuki and Mariamu in what can only serve to contrast the two highly different motives of the characters, increasing the evilness of Wariuki to the reader while at the same time softening the position of Mariamu. In this, the recipient can further grasp the undying need for revenge that Wariuki was fostering in all of his brutal, often insane journeys.
Wa Thiong'o, Ngugi. “Wedding at the Cross”. The Norton Anthology of World Literature: Shorter Third Edition, Two- Volume Set. W.W. Norton. Ed. M Puchner. 2012. 1692-1702. Print.
Adventures in World Literature
Sunday, July 31, 2016
Sunday, July 24, 2016
Homeland
Mahmoud Darwish, a Palestinian poet and political figure, lived during a time of great upheaval that divided Palestine between Israel and neighboring Arab countries, exiling many Palestinians during a time of war. Darwish and his family were among the exiled, forced off of their land and into barely habitable areas. He wrote Identity Card as a means to outline the life that he and his family were forced to leave behind by people that are not that much different from him. The poem serves as a warning-- patience can only go so far.
There are many ways in which Darwish discusses his heritage. In lines 35 through 41, he describes his physical appearance, which is not unlike the appearance of the guard that the narrator of the poem is speaking to: "I am an Arab./Colour of hair: jet black./Colour of eyes: brown./ My distinguishing features: On my head the 'iqal cords over a keffryah/Scratching him who touches it." Further than physical appearance, though, he describes his Arabic roots, roots that he likely has in common with the guard standing between him and his mother land. His father and grandfather worked for everything they had. His home was hardly a mansion, but he was proud. Despite his identity being reduced to a number on a card, and despite his job being reduced to a quarry-worker that can hardly provide for his children, he is patient and pleased with who he is.
Darwish repeats quite often that he is Arab, and because of this, how could he be angry? Wherever his people are is where home can be. The love of his home and his heritage goes so deep, however, that he warns the guard (or the reader) that his patience will not last forever. When his hunger (both for food and for his natural homeland) becomes greater than his patience, he will be a force to be reckoned with.
Mahmoud Darwish. “Identity Card” The Norton Anthology of World Literature. 3rd ed.
Vol. 2. New York: Norton, 2013. 1607-1609. Print.
Sunday, July 17, 2016
Neruda
Pablo Neruda, a Chilean communist, political activist, and poet, wrote extensively on both private, emotional subjects (such as love and and daily life) and public injustices during his life, the latter born out of the politically-charged murder of a friend of his. In his poem “Walking Around,” Neruda paints a vivid picture of both his feelings toward society and life and his perception of the city in which he walks, using evocative imagery and carefully calculated stanzas to achieve his purpose.
The poem begins with Neruda stating that he is tired of being a man, which he later repeats for emphasis, comparing himself to a “felt swan navigating on a water of origin and ash” instead of the human that he is (lns 1-4). The evolution and commercialization of the world in which he lives, as is evidenced by his discussion on movies, elevators, and the abundance of merchandise, is noxious in his eyes. Everything around him contributes to his unhappiness. Even the swan, a symbol of beauty, has become increasingly synthetic due to commercialism. Perhaps it is his ties with communism that makes him feel this way, though the poem never indicates this to be true.
He has a moment of clarity about a third of the way through the poem, suggesting that doing something out of character might reinvigorate him, but understands that an act of craziness will not rectify his feelings. Instead, he admits that, despite himself, he does not want to continue on in such a manner as to be miserable. Instead, he pushes through the dank city that he describes so vividly: damp houses, hospitals filled with the dead and dying, streets and withered homes filled with noisome smells, and even homes draped with intestines to signify degradation and decay.
Neruda wrote “Walking Around” in free verse, bereft of noticeable structure. The poem, like its subject, is literally stopping and starting, slowing down and speeding up, just as if Neruda was walking and stopping to observe.
The city in which he lives is broken, devoid of splendor or opportunity, yet Neruda embraces it as his own despite the depression it brings because it is a motivator, pushing him to do better and to be better.
Neruda, Pablo. “Walking Around.” Trans. W.S. Merwin. The Norton Anthology of World Literature: Shorter Third Edition, Two- Volume Set. W.W. Norton. Ed. M Puchner. 2012. 1423-1424. Print
Puchner, Martin. “”Pablo Neruda”. The Norton Anthology of World Literature: Shorter Third Edition, Two- Volume Set. W.W. Norton. Ed. M Puchner. 2012. 1421-1422. Print
Monday, July 11, 2016
Gender
In the short story "The Rod of Justice" by Joaquim Maria Machado de Assis (hereafter referred to by his preferred name, Machado), the reader is met with backwards gender norms, stereotypically speaking. As a youth, Machado, the grandson of freed slaves, went formally uneducated, instead teaching himself through hearing bits of his stepmother's teachings at a girls' school. The idea that women hold the power, as it was in his own personal life, is the central theme of "The Rod of Justice," seen both from the perspective of a hopeless man, a powerful woman, and a scared black slave, with which he had personal experience.
The story starts with a young man name Damiao, a padre-in-training, running away from the seminary and trying to figure out where to go. He did not choose the seminarist life and wanted desperately to escape from it. Knowing his father would send him right back, he went to the most powerful and influential person he knew of to help him in his situation, which so happened to be a woman named Sinha Rita. Sinha Rita, a widow and mistress of many slaves and neighborhood women, convinced Damiao that she would fix his situation. She called upon his godfather, Joao Carneiro, and sent him to speak to Damiao's father to tell him that Damiao would not be returning to seminary.
It is at this point in the story that Sinha Rita's power truly shows. Carneiro was afraid of the task, but even more afraid of disappointing Sinha Rita. Even Damiao's own bull-headed father would not come to retrieve his son from her home and send him back to seminary, because he knew who he would be dealing with. However powerful the men were, Sinha Rita's power towered over theirs.
The reader is also introduced to a black slave named Lucretia, a girl who dared to laugh at Damiao's story when not being invited into the conversation, and not finish the task Sinha Rita gave her in the time allowed. The punishment for this was to be beaten with a rod by Sinha Rita, who asked Damiao to be an accomplice to this, despite his desire to protect the little girl. Because he knew Sinha Rita was his only hope of staying out of seminary, he complied, handing her the rod that would beat the child.
It's interesting to see that men were bending over backwards to do her bidding, even though they absolutely did not want to. They were willing to eschew their own moral code in order to carry out her desires because they knew that ultimately, it was she who held the power, and not them. She flaunts her power over the men, emasculating them in such a way that they cannot refuse her will. It'd be easy to assume that she is pleasant enough and someone who stands up for others, but in reality, she is just power-hungry in her quest to dominate everyone she comes into contact with. Be they scared young men, lovers (which Carneiro seems to be), her slaves, or the neighborhood women, she knows she is in control.
De Assis, Joaquim Maria Machado. “The Rod of Justice.” Trans. Helen Caldwell. 1650 To the Present. Ed. Martin Puchner. 3rd Shorter ed. New York: Norton, 2013. 911-916. Print. Vol. 2 of The Norton Anthology of World Literature. 2 vols.
Puchner, Martin. “Joaquim Maria Machado de Assis.” 1650 To the Present. Ed. Puchner. Shorter 3rd ed. New York: Norton, 2013. 910-911. Print. Vol. 2 of The Norton Anthology of World Literature. 2 vols.
Sunday, July 3, 2016
Martí and Darío
Walt Whitman, celebrated American poet that lived from 1819 to 1892, was a great influence to Latin American poets José Martí of Cuba and Rubén Darío of Nicaragua, born in 1853 and 1867, respectively. Whitman's renown spread the world, affecting people halfway across the globe during his own time, in part due to his attitude regarding life and freedom, but also because of his disregard to conventional poetry writing-standards, throwing caution to the wind and preferring free-verse over rigidity, all of which are found in both the works of Martí and Darío, as well.
While Whitman was not always received well upon first reading, even being thrown under the proverbial bus by peer poet Henry David Thoreau, he continued to write, focusing on the nation and its growing democracy and celebrating America's place in the realm of art and beauty. In his characteristic free-verse, he would examine all matters of life in America, regardless of reception.
José Martí also wrote extensively about his country, fighting for freedom both with a weapon and a pen. Where Whitman would write about the growing democracy in post-revolution America, Martí wrote about what freedom should be, fighting for human rights and the right to equality. Like Whitman, he eschewed the typical writing style of his peers, choosing instead to embrace modernism, very much like the free-verse that Whitman used. In his most famous piece, I Am an Honest Man, he writes about himself and his place in nature and society, very much like Whitman did in many of his pieces.
Rubén Darío's writing was said to have stood "...solidly outside of norms, forms, and schools" by Pablo Neruda and Garcia Lorca, two writers that came just a little after his time. Like Whitman and Martí, he became known as one of the greatest poets in his country, urging the Nicaraguan government to order national mourning for his death when he passed in 1916. As far as his writing style goes, he also went with his own preferred form instead of the norm, choosing instead to write freely in short, descriptive passages, very much like Martí. His poetry was simultaneously steeped in history and modernism, creating vivid imagery.
Though all three were from completely different parts of the world and very likely had no contact with one another, their styles are all very similar-- free of restrictions, full of powerful symbolism, and highly promotional of both self-appreciation and human rights. It's almost as though they worked side by side.
Puchner, Martin. “Walt Whitman.” The Norton Anthology of World Literature: Shorter Third Edition. Two-Volume Set. W.W. Norton. Ed. M Puchner. 2013. 646-647. Print.
Puchner, Martin. “José Martí.” The Norton Anthology of World Literature: Shorter Third Edition. Two-Volume Set. W.W. Norton. Ed. M Puchner. 2013. 680-681. Print.
Puchner, Martin. “Rubén Darío.” The Norton Anthology of World Literature: Shorter Third Edition. Two-Volume Set. W.W. Norton. Ed. M Puchner. 2013. 689-691. Print.
Saturday, June 18, 2016
An Essay on Man
Alexander Pope, a celebrated English author that lived from 1688 to 1744, wrote An Essay on Man to describe and validate the role of God and his placement of man in the Great Chain of Being to all of mankind. In the writing of An Essay on Man, Pope discusses the concept of theodicy and the role that disorder-- the byproduct of man's quest to dominate the chain and understand God's divine will-- plays in life, proving that evil must coexist alongside God's goodness in order for the earth, as a whole, to remain in motion.
Pope states, essentially, that God knew what he was doing in the creation of the world and all of its inhabitants, from the tiniest microorganism all the way up to Himself. Man makes a fool of himself by questioning his part in the chain, making himself appear to be more god-like than he actually is, judging situations that he cannot possibly judge. The search for knowledge on why God did what he did creates chaos in the chain. Each link (or "being") on the chain contributes to the strength of the overall chain. If even one link were to be displaced, the chain would be rendered useless.
So, it is to be understood that everything happens for a reason, and God's reason, at that. Man is placed where he is because of his command of the faculties of desire and judgment, faculties which animals and lesser organisms are not able to use, yet the human brain is such a fickle thing that the balance between desire and judgment are often thrown, creating the tension that contributes to evil. In this, one can see that God has given the chain, and especially those toward the top of it, the innate ability to be good and do good, but by having free-will, man has the capacity to create the misery that must coexist with the good.
I am not religious, so to ask whether I find Pope's arguments believable is almost unfair. My answer will always be "no" when being presented with a question such as this. However, the message still stands, even when religion is taken out of the equation. Is it believable to think that good and evil must coexist for the world to keep turning? The world could operate on goodness, alone, though it is unrealistic to believe the world could ever be peaceful, so good and evil are forced to coexist for the world to keep moving. If goodness gives up and evil wins, the world will cease to function. We all have our place in the chain of life, and we all have the ability to be the best possible version of who we are. We do not need more knowledge than this to do the best with what we have.
Pope, Alexander. "An Essay on Man." The Norton Anthology of World Literature. Ed. Martin Puchner. 3rd ed. Vol. 2. New York: W.W. Norton, 2013. 90-97. Print.
Pope states, essentially, that God knew what he was doing in the creation of the world and all of its inhabitants, from the tiniest microorganism all the way up to Himself. Man makes a fool of himself by questioning his part in the chain, making himself appear to be more god-like than he actually is, judging situations that he cannot possibly judge. The search for knowledge on why God did what he did creates chaos in the chain. Each link (or "being") on the chain contributes to the strength of the overall chain. If even one link were to be displaced, the chain would be rendered useless.
So, it is to be understood that everything happens for a reason, and God's reason, at that. Man is placed where he is because of his command of the faculties of desire and judgment, faculties which animals and lesser organisms are not able to use, yet the human brain is such a fickle thing that the balance between desire and judgment are often thrown, creating the tension that contributes to evil. In this, one can see that God has given the chain, and especially those toward the top of it, the innate ability to be good and do good, but by having free-will, man has the capacity to create the misery that must coexist with the good.
I am not religious, so to ask whether I find Pope's arguments believable is almost unfair. My answer will always be "no" when being presented with a question such as this. However, the message still stands, even when religion is taken out of the equation. Is it believable to think that good and evil must coexist for the world to keep turning? The world could operate on goodness, alone, though it is unrealistic to believe the world could ever be peaceful, so good and evil are forced to coexist for the world to keep moving. If goodness gives up and evil wins, the world will cease to function. We all have our place in the chain of life, and we all have the ability to be the best possible version of who we are. We do not need more knowledge than this to do the best with what we have.
Pope, Alexander. "An Essay on Man." The Norton Anthology of World Literature. Ed. Martin Puchner. 3rd ed. Vol. 2. New York: W.W. Norton, 2013. 90-97. Print.
Sunday, June 12, 2016
Montaigne
Michel de Montaigne, a brilliant writer, historian, and ethnographer, was born in 1533 during the illustrious Renaissance Era. He dedicated himself to his literature, writing honestly and modestly on topics of which he had interest and knowledge, but he also chose to highlight the cultures and interests of others, continuously seeking more than what already lived in his own mind, intrigued by the lives of others. Montaigne was extraordinarily neutral on the lives and customs of others, choosing not to critique those outside of European customs, but rather to try to understand their mindset and culture. He asserted that "each man calls barbarism whatever is not his own practice," a notion that meant that Europeans (his control-population) will demoralize the "other," regardless of their customs, simply because it is not what they, themselves, adhere to. This is not an antiquated notion with no place in today's world; people still believe this to be true, though the measure of barbarism is not whether the practice is merely different, but whether or not it hurts humanity.
In his Essays, Montaigne described a group of Brazilian cannibals. The word "cannibal" typically does not need further explanation before a person would condemn the group responsible, so Montaigne went above and beyond to describe the tribe in question. He stated early in his essay "Of Cannibals" that it is crucial that "...we should beware of clinging to vulgar opinions, and judge things by reason's way, not by popular say" (1651). "Popular say" refers to the idea that one's mother culture sets president in the opinions and ideals that a person holds dear to themselves. However, this is not an accurate way to measure whether one ideal is better than another.
Montaigne tried his hardest to dispel the notion that the European "way" was any better than the Brazilian-cannibal "way" by stating that the act of cannibalism was customary only after killing a violent enemy (1656). Of course, a European would look down upon this act, to which Montaigne points out that the taking and using of human flesh is not unique to the Brazilian tribe discussed in the essay-- it has been used in various points throughout history with little backlash because it was deemed necessary, and with explanation. However, because Europeans only knew what they heard through the grapevine about the Brazilian tribe, they were quick to point fingers and deem them barbaric. Montaigne points out that they were brave individuals, worthy of praise for their courage and honor and willingness to defend one another and act as a whole unit rather than separate parts, but because they committed cannibalism, a typical European would never even hear of their bravery-- just that they ingested people (1650).
Of course, it is simple to say that we should defend the customs of others as being solely their own, as they should look upon our own customs (referring to any separate cultures), although putting that into practice is more difficult than it sounds. I remember, years ago, it was the first time I learned about the concept of leblouh, (or intense gavage), which is the force-feeding of young girls in Mauritania, to prepare them for marriage. I was absolutely appalled. A heavy-stature is desired in this part of the world; it means that a woman will be fertile, and is just generally viewed as what is beautiful.
It's perfectly acceptable for a man or woman to find another large man or woman to fulfill their standards of beauty. What is unacceptable is the force-feeding of up to 16,000 calories a day to a young girl, threatening torture for refusal, or making them eat their own vomit when they inevitably cannot hold it all in. It would be easy to say "who am I to judge?" which is a comment I make in many situations regarding cultural norms or religious practices that do not bring harm to humanity. However, leblouh is intensely harmful to these girls, and it is never their choice. In a country where most girls wed between 12 and 14 years of age, their parents choose that life for them, paying people to make their girls obese. Is it barbaric because it isn't my own practice? No. It's barbaric because it's a violation of human rights.
Moreover, I feel as though Montaigne might agree with me on this one. The cannibals were not hurting a living being, as Montaigne points out. They were not torturing their prisoner in life or eating him alive. They were just carrying out their death-rite custom. Leblouh is not comparable. It is just complete agonizing torture for those girls.
Haworth, Abigail. "Forced to Be Fat." Marie Claire: Politics. Marie Claire, 20 July 2011. Web.
Puchner, Martin. “Michel de Montaigne”. The Norton Anthology of World Literature: Shorter Third Edition. Two-Volume Set. W.W. Norton. Ed. M Puchner. 2013. 1647-1650. Print.
Puchner, Martin. “Essays”. The Norton Anthology of World Literature: Shorter Third Edition. Two-Volume Set. W.W. Norton. Ed. M Puchner. 2013. 1650-1655. Print.
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