Will Landschulz
Am Lit. Per. 2
Mrs. LaMagdeleine
Esther is at another building on the campus of her asylum. This one is Belsize, the building for patients who are almost ready to leave the asylum as cured citizens. In fact, after her new and improved shock treatments she is cured, the bell jar lifted into the sky and away. She goes out to get a diaphragm fitted for her, so that she can decide when to have a baby or not. This is the first part of Esther's equation, and all she needs is a man who is open to seduction. But when the deed is done, Esther feels no great life-changing epiphany or pleasure, only pain, and blood. Lots and lots of blood. She leaves Irwin, who had both succeeded in getting her to Buddy's "level" and failed at showing her the joys of sex, and goes to Joan, who gets her to a hospital. Her copious bloodloss is diagnosed as hemorrhages, and she is fixed up by a doctor. She was keen to "get to know" Irwin partly because of her desire to lose her virginity, which served as the impetus for her selection, but also because he is the sort of person who Esther thinks is perfect for her purposes. He's smart, with a professorship at 26, experienced in sexual matters (his numerous affairs point this out) and he is someone who has a very low chance of being a continual presence in Esther's life, good for a one night stand before their lives diverge.
Wednesday, April 29, 2009
Monday, April 27, 2009
The title metaphor
Will Landschulz
Am Lit Per. 2
Mrs. LaMagdeleine
Well, this is awkward. I, going off on tangents like I sometimes do, covered some of this in the last blog, and thus got some of it wrong. Rather than BS my way through this one, I'm going to cover this again, and consider it a chance to correct my mistakes. When Esther describes herself as being inside a bell jar, she is saying that no matter where she moves, be it in her old workplace or a Paris boutique or a Bangkok teahouse, she's inside an unchanging environment that will not bend to her appeals to get out. She finds the air to be stuffy and stale, and therefore her entire life, being inside this jar, is stale as well. Hence, the attempts to kill herself. When she attempts to look at something outside the jar (such as writing) it appears distorted, as though the jar itself is rippled and uneven. Presumably, the shock treatments as administered by Dr. Gordon cracked this jar, but did not break it, increasing her distortion and alienation from the world (after the sleeping pill incident, her face is multicolored, as if seen through refractive glass), but making it easier for Dr. Nolan to break through and get Esther to sanity.
Am Lit Per. 2
Mrs. LaMagdeleine
Well, this is awkward. I, going off on tangents like I sometimes do, covered some of this in the last blog, and thus got some of it wrong. Rather than BS my way through this one, I'm going to cover this again, and consider it a chance to correct my mistakes. When Esther describes herself as being inside a bell jar, she is saying that no matter where she moves, be it in her old workplace or a Paris boutique or a Bangkok teahouse, she's inside an unchanging environment that will not bend to her appeals to get out. She finds the air to be stuffy and stale, and therefore her entire life, being inside this jar, is stale as well. Hence, the attempts to kill herself. When she attempts to look at something outside the jar (such as writing) it appears distorted, as though the jar itself is rippled and uneven. Presumably, the shock treatments as administered by Dr. Gordon cracked this jar, but did not break it, increasing her distortion and alienation from the world (after the sleeping pill incident, her face is multicolored, as if seen through refractive glass), but making it easier for Dr. Nolan to break through and get Esther to sanity.
Saturday, April 25, 2009
The Jar and the Haven
Will Landschulz
Am Lit Per. 2
Mrs. LaMagdeleine
Esther brings up the metaphor of the bell jar for the first time in the book. It makes perfect sense, as everything seems stale to her, only things that can seep underneath, like the ball of mercury in the last chapter, can reach her. Furthermore, she sees through the walls of her glass prison, but writing is distorted as if seen through an old glass window, rippling, forming shapes unrelated to their actual meaning. Her writing reflects this change from clean letters conveying beautiful ideas such as the shapes in her botany class to ragged, sloppy letters unintelligible to anyone. However, she is now in a place where she can recover. She has a woman psychiatrist to see to her condition, who actually (gasp!) makes an effort to understand Esther's problem. We also learn that Dr. Gordon has been doing the procedure for shocks incorrectly, which begs the question of when he will be fired. None too soon, in my opinion, but the story casts him aside in favor of Dr. Nolan, the woman psychiatrist. The "gardens" of the asylum are mentioned, which by itself creates a strong contrast to the asylum used by Dr. Gordon. Esther grows plumper, so much so that she comments on how she would be mistaken for pregnancy. They move her to a room with "more sun", and move a more serious case to "Wymark," presumably a sister asylum. I believe that here is the place where they can finally smash the bell jar to pieces or crack it so that she lapses into total madness.
Am Lit Per. 2
Mrs. LaMagdeleine
Esther brings up the metaphor of the bell jar for the first time in the book. It makes perfect sense, as everything seems stale to her, only things that can seep underneath, like the ball of mercury in the last chapter, can reach her. Furthermore, she sees through the walls of her glass prison, but writing is distorted as if seen through an old glass window, rippling, forming shapes unrelated to their actual meaning. Her writing reflects this change from clean letters conveying beautiful ideas such as the shapes in her botany class to ragged, sloppy letters unintelligible to anyone. However, she is now in a place where she can recover. She has a woman psychiatrist to see to her condition, who actually (gasp!) makes an effort to understand Esther's problem. We also learn that Dr. Gordon has been doing the procedure for shocks incorrectly, which begs the question of when he will be fired. None too soon, in my opinion, but the story casts him aside in favor of Dr. Nolan, the woman psychiatrist. The "gardens" of the asylum are mentioned, which by itself creates a strong contrast to the asylum used by Dr. Gordon. Esther grows plumper, so much so that she comments on how she would be mistaken for pregnancy. They move her to a room with "more sun", and move a more serious case to "Wymark," presumably a sister asylum. I believe that here is the place where they can finally smash the bell jar to pieces or crack it so that she lapses into total madness.
Thursday, April 23, 2009
Tendencies
Will Landschulz
Am Lit Per. 2
Mrs. LaMagdeleine
Esther tries to kill herself three times in the first chapter of the reading, once by hanging (rope falls from where she hangs it), once by drowning (she stops swimming to the rock and tries diving, then gives up), and once by OD of sleeping pills (found and wakes up in asylum). She tries to do this because she feels that none understand her, from the snippy ladies in maternity that gripe about their dead flowers not being in their vases where they're supposed to be, to her mother, who is still under the delusion of her daughter "pretending" to be insane out of feelings of grandeur or something. After suicide attempt #3, she is found while comatose and put into a hospital. The entire staff is stymied as to what Esther's problem is, and ends up giving her a ball of mercury to play with. Never mind how many occupational hazards there are to playing w/ mercury, namely poisoning if it gets anywhere inside your body, they still give it to her. While this can possibly be ascribed to the fact that science marches on (the same reason that shock treatments aren't handed out to insane people like placebos nowadays), the fact that mercury thermometers are normally encased in glass (instead of, for example, an open container) should be a bit of a tip-off that Mercury isn't as safe as it seems.
Am Lit Per. 2
Mrs. LaMagdeleine
Esther tries to kill herself three times in the first chapter of the reading, once by hanging (rope falls from where she hangs it), once by drowning (she stops swimming to the rock and tries diving, then gives up), and once by OD of sleeping pills (found and wakes up in asylum). She tries to do this because she feels that none understand her, from the snippy ladies in maternity that gripe about their dead flowers not being in their vases where they're supposed to be, to her mother, who is still under the delusion of her daughter "pretending" to be insane out of feelings of grandeur or something. After suicide attempt #3, she is found while comatose and put into a hospital. The entire staff is stymied as to what Esther's problem is, and ends up giving her a ball of mercury to play with. Never mind how many occupational hazards there are to playing w/ mercury, namely poisoning if it gets anywhere inside your body, they still give it to her. While this can possibly be ascribed to the fact that science marches on (the same reason that shock treatments aren't handed out to insane people like placebos nowadays), the fact that mercury thermometers are normally encased in glass (instead of, for example, an open container) should be a bit of a tip-off that Mercury isn't as safe as it seems.
Wednesday, April 22, 2009
Doctor, Doctor
Will Landschulz
Am. Lit. Per. 2
Mrs. LaMagdeleine
The chapter opens in Dr. Gordon's waiting room: beige, bland, and boring, with nothing but a receptionist's desk, some certificates, a coffee and magazine table, and a potted plant. Esther, in this seeming oasis of blandness, cuts a far more interesting image than the snoozer of a wall color. She hasn't washed her clothes or her hair for three weeks, and hasn't been sleeping for one. Dr. Gordon, the man behind the bland walls, seems to be as useful to Esther as the potted plant in the corner. The condescension in his voice grows so thick that it can be cut through if one has the proper proverbial knife. He keeps a picture of his family on his desk, but not just for him to look at: Esther notices that she can see his wife on it from the angle, as if he's daring all his patients to ask him out and be rejected. It only serves to make Esther angrier, as she's said with great conviction that she's not going to get married, and this image of the wife, with the angelic kids and the adorable, litter-trained puppy around him, seems only to mock her. Dr. Gordon doesn't seem to care about Esther's problem, hardly thinking about Esther's symptoms and making a vague statement about girls he used to know at Esther's college that could easily be from any college, and which he later repeats to her verbatim when she tells him (again) which college she goes to. After that, he seems to brush Esther off with a cheerful "see you next week," knowing full well that he gets 25 dollars per hour. Seems like a reasonable thing to try and milk, but he's not putting any effort into Esther's case, which would make him seem more forgivable. In his apathy and condescension, he's not knowingly hurting Esther, even during the shock treatment, but he definitely isn't going to be any help whatsoever.
Am. Lit. Per. 2
Mrs. LaMagdeleine
The chapter opens in Dr. Gordon's waiting room: beige, bland, and boring, with nothing but a receptionist's desk, some certificates, a coffee and magazine table, and a potted plant. Esther, in this seeming oasis of blandness, cuts a far more interesting image than the snoozer of a wall color. She hasn't washed her clothes or her hair for three weeks, and hasn't been sleeping for one. Dr. Gordon, the man behind the bland walls, seems to be as useful to Esther as the potted plant in the corner. The condescension in his voice grows so thick that it can be cut through if one has the proper proverbial knife. He keeps a picture of his family on his desk, but not just for him to look at: Esther notices that she can see his wife on it from the angle, as if he's daring all his patients to ask him out and be rejected. It only serves to make Esther angrier, as she's said with great conviction that she's not going to get married, and this image of the wife, with the angelic kids and the adorable, litter-trained puppy around him, seems only to mock her. Dr. Gordon doesn't seem to care about Esther's problem, hardly thinking about Esther's symptoms and making a vague statement about girls he used to know at Esther's college that could easily be from any college, and which he later repeats to her verbatim when she tells him (again) which college she goes to. After that, he seems to brush Esther off with a cheerful "see you next week," knowing full well that he gets 25 dollars per hour. Seems like a reasonable thing to try and milk, but he's not putting any effort into Esther's case, which would make him seem more forgivable. In his apathy and condescension, he's not knowingly hurting Esther, even during the shock treatment, but he definitely isn't going to be any help whatsoever.
Monday, April 20, 2009
Dancing and Diamonds
Will Landschulz
Am. Lit. Per. 2
Mrs. LaMagdeleine
As soon as we are introduced to him, Marco might as well have "TROUBLE" connected to his head in foot-tall flashing Incandescent letters. Giving a pin (with diamond ominously described as a "heavenly ice cube") to a girl he just met? Imposing himself upon Esther without noting her reaction or, perhaps, caring? Gripping her arm so tightly as to leave purple marks where his fingers were? Of course, this is not lost on Esther, who calls him a "woman-hater" and likens him to a "snake" with "clockwork jaws." He leads her to dance the tango, ignoring her protests of "I don't dance," brushing it off because "I'll do the dancing." She goes limp in his arms and gives him exactly what he wants - a woman who's putty in his arms and will do whatever he desires. That makes her, to him, a "perfectly respectable" partner in his plans. After the warm-up tango, he leads her outside into a hedged-off area, surrounded by a deserted golf course and lonely property enclosing them into the moonlit garden. We've been building to this moment for the entire chapter, and sure enough, Marco takes advantage of their convenient solitude to force the situation, so to speak. Oddly, it doesn't seem to register with her that she's being raped, not until her dress begins to tear off entirely. She wastes an entire paragraph with her wondering about being raped, and then does she begin to "writhe and cry," jabbing her stilletto heel into his leg, smashing his nose into a bloody mess. He calls her a slut, completely ignoring the fact that he was the one who started the mess in the first place, and ends up by stealing not only the diamond he gave her, but probably her bag as well. Then she does something very odd. Once she has escaped Marco's clutches, she goes home to the Amazon and dumps her entire wardrobe to the breezes. Maybe she felt that it is unclean? But that makes no sense. Why would things she hadn't worn to the rape be unclean, fit only to be tossed to the breeze? Maybe she feels she is unclean? that makes more sense, although a much better expedient is simply to take a bath. After that, her view is distorted and she begins to not care about, well, anything. The "riverrun, past Eve and Adam's" paragraph becomes gibberish between the sides of the page, she picks up and puts down the idea of a novel, junks her thesis because of the aforementioned gibberish, and watches dumbly as a "hollow voice" throws her friends at Cambridge, and her relationship with Buddy. In this way, she further isolates herself from the rest of her support group besides her mother, who is not given much of a character thus far.
Am. Lit. Per. 2
Mrs. LaMagdeleine
As soon as we are introduced to him, Marco might as well have "TROUBLE" connected to his head in foot-tall flashing Incandescent letters. Giving a pin (with diamond ominously described as a "heavenly ice cube") to a girl he just met? Imposing himself upon Esther without noting her reaction or, perhaps, caring? Gripping her arm so tightly as to leave purple marks where his fingers were? Of course, this is not lost on Esther, who calls him a "woman-hater" and likens him to a "snake" with "clockwork jaws." He leads her to dance the tango, ignoring her protests of "I don't dance," brushing it off because "I'll do the dancing." She goes limp in his arms and gives him exactly what he wants - a woman who's putty in his arms and will do whatever he desires. That makes her, to him, a "perfectly respectable" partner in his plans. After the warm-up tango, he leads her outside into a hedged-off area, surrounded by a deserted golf course and lonely property enclosing them into the moonlit garden. We've been building to this moment for the entire chapter, and sure enough, Marco takes advantage of their convenient solitude to force the situation, so to speak. Oddly, it doesn't seem to register with her that she's being raped, not until her dress begins to tear off entirely. She wastes an entire paragraph with her wondering about being raped, and then does she begin to "writhe and cry," jabbing her stilletto heel into his leg, smashing his nose into a bloody mess. He calls her a slut, completely ignoring the fact that he was the one who started the mess in the first place, and ends up by stealing not only the diamond he gave her, but probably her bag as well. Then she does something very odd. Once she has escaped Marco's clutches, she goes home to the Amazon and dumps her entire wardrobe to the breezes. Maybe she felt that it is unclean? But that makes no sense. Why would things she hadn't worn to the rape be unclean, fit only to be tossed to the breeze? Maybe she feels she is unclean? that makes more sense, although a much better expedient is simply to take a bath. After that, her view is distorted and she begins to not care about, well, anything. The "riverrun, past Eve and Adam's" paragraph becomes gibberish between the sides of the page, she picks up and puts down the idea of a novel, junks her thesis because of the aforementioned gibberish, and watches dumbly as a "hollow voice" throws her friends at Cambridge, and her relationship with Buddy. In this way, she further isolates herself from the rest of her support group besides her mother, who is not given much of a character thus far.
Saturday, April 18, 2009
Constant Thinking
Will Landschulz
Am Lit. Per. 2
Mrs. LaMagdeleine
Esther goes on her date with Constantin in this chapter, then goes to his house with him. She does this because she wants to be on an equal level with Buddy, i.e. have one affair, like he did, for a reasonable amount of time, like he did. However, this does not come to fruition, because she falls asleep whilst he is in another room. She wakes up with him in bed next to her, and comments through the fourth wall that she's never fallen asleep with a boy before. The strange thing is that Constantin wakes up and loves her, but notices her expression and hides it away. Why else would he take her to a nice, not fancy, but nice, Mediterranean restaurant in the cellar, with all the romantic setup if he did not want this to be a first date? She even lists the things she doesn't like about herself, with an emphasis on things she can't do, and still Constantin can find it in his heart to love her. However, there's going to be some major explaining to do when she tells him about Buddy.
Am Lit. Per. 2
Mrs. LaMagdeleine
Esther goes on her date with Constantin in this chapter, then goes to his house with him. She does this because she wants to be on an equal level with Buddy, i.e. have one affair, like he did, for a reasonable amount of time, like he did. However, this does not come to fruition, because she falls asleep whilst he is in another room. She wakes up with him in bed next to her, and comments through the fourth wall that she's never fallen asleep with a boy before. The strange thing is that Constantin wakes up and loves her, but notices her expression and hides it away. Why else would he take her to a nice, not fancy, but nice, Mediterranean restaurant in the cellar, with all the romantic setup if he did not want this to be a first date? She even lists the things she doesn't like about herself, with an emphasis on things she can't do, and still Constantin can find it in his heart to love her. However, there's going to be some major explaining to do when she tells him about Buddy.
Thursday, April 16, 2009
Deceit and decay
Will Landschulz
Am Lit. Per. 2
Mrs. LaMagdeleine.
Here we get lots of information about Buddy, who shows Esther her first cadaver, then later admits to being seduced by a waitress. First, he's not as clean as he looks, even as a doctor surrounded by dead bodies all the time. It is frankly impossible to maintain an impeccable image for long, so why does Esther cool towards him? Mainly because of his deception, which, when taken with his image of purity, makes him look like a coward for not telling her earlier. She doesn't like this, as it was a giant secret that he didn't tell her until that day. But I think that is perfectly reasonable. He seems embarrassed by his betrayal, and naturally covers it up to save face - both his and hers. However, she does not show him her lowered opinion towards him. Why not? He has TB, and she feels it would be cruel to abandon him outwardly during his moment of sickness. This, I think, is exactly the same crime she accuses Buddy of perpetrating, and therefore she has nowhere to stand on that matter. What's worse is that she feels half swept off her feet by the sound of Constantin's voice, underlining for the genre savvy reader that they will end up in bed together. (I'd call this a spoiler, but it's the topic of the next blog). Now, she not only has no moral ground on which to challenge Buddy or even think about dumping him, he now has more ground than her. This is even more obvious when he says that the waitress who he trysted with seduced him, and not the other way around. He wanted to stay loyal, but couldn't, where she lost interest in him and seems to be going on a date with Mrs. Willard's interpreter.
Am Lit. Per. 2
Mrs. LaMagdeleine.
Here we get lots of information about Buddy, who shows Esther her first cadaver, then later admits to being seduced by a waitress. First, he's not as clean as he looks, even as a doctor surrounded by dead bodies all the time. It is frankly impossible to maintain an impeccable image for long, so why does Esther cool towards him? Mainly because of his deception, which, when taken with his image of purity, makes him look like a coward for not telling her earlier. She doesn't like this, as it was a giant secret that he didn't tell her until that day. But I think that is perfectly reasonable. He seems embarrassed by his betrayal, and naturally covers it up to save face - both his and hers. However, she does not show him her lowered opinion towards him. Why not? He has TB, and she feels it would be cruel to abandon him outwardly during his moment of sickness. This, I think, is exactly the same crime she accuses Buddy of perpetrating, and therefore she has nowhere to stand on that matter. What's worse is that she feels half swept off her feet by the sound of Constantin's voice, underlining for the genre savvy reader that they will end up in bed together. (I'd call this a spoiler, but it's the topic of the next blog). Now, she not only has no moral ground on which to challenge Buddy or even think about dumping him, he now has more ground than her. This is even more obvious when he says that the waitress who he trysted with seduced him, and not the other way around. He wanted to stay loyal, but couldn't, where she lost interest in him and seems to be going on a date with Mrs. Willard's interpreter.
Wednesday, April 15, 2009
Skipping Class
Will Landschulz
Am Lit Per. 2
Mrs. LaMagdeleine
Esther is coming to grips with the fact that she, herself, does not have any plans for the future. The possible things she had in mind, like being a professor and writing poetry, or being an editor and writing poetry, do not sound like cohesive plans for the future, they are intangible as the city hanging outside her window the night before, all bright and shiny and beautiful, but no closer than the stars for all the good they did her. This leads to her required classes at her college, which leads to her talk of the sciences. She likes botany class, loves it, in fact. She falls in love with the aesthetic shapes under the scope, the "heart-shaped leaf" that occurs during the sex cycle of the fern, the reality of it all. And then "when I went into physics class it was death." Gone are the real shapes of fern and bread mold, and here in their place are theoretical symbols for time and acceleration, things standing in for other things while they attend to the rest of the world. She loves the realness of the shapes and diagrams in botany class, but she rejects the "scorpion-lettered formulas" of Physics. She knows Chemistry will be worse because of all the elements, such as gold and silver and platinum, reduced to "Au," "Ag" and other two-letter codes, abbreviating and compromising beautiful things, in her view, for convenience. She thinks that replacing something with something else is a betrayal of the original thing, and thus rejects the theoretical sciences.
Am Lit Per. 2
Mrs. LaMagdeleine
Esther is coming to grips with the fact that she, herself, does not have any plans for the future. The possible things she had in mind, like being a professor and writing poetry, or being an editor and writing poetry, do not sound like cohesive plans for the future, they are intangible as the city hanging outside her window the night before, all bright and shiny and beautiful, but no closer than the stars for all the good they did her. This leads to her required classes at her college, which leads to her talk of the sciences. She likes botany class, loves it, in fact. She falls in love with the aesthetic shapes under the scope, the "heart-shaped leaf" that occurs during the sex cycle of the fern, the reality of it all. And then "when I went into physics class it was death." Gone are the real shapes of fern and bread mold, and here in their place are theoretical symbols for time and acceleration, things standing in for other things while they attend to the rest of the world. She loves the realness of the shapes and diagrams in botany class, but she rejects the "scorpion-lettered formulas" of Physics. She knows Chemistry will be worse because of all the elements, such as gold and silver and platinum, reduced to "Au," "Ag" and other two-letter codes, abbreviating and compromising beautiful things, in her view, for convenience. She thinks that replacing something with something else is a betrayal of the original thing, and thus rejects the theoretical sciences.
Tuesday, April 14, 2009
Eyes of Tornados
Will Landschulz
Am. Lit Per. 2
Mrs. LaMagdeleine
Esther, at first glance, appears to be a normal female New Yorker college student, with dorm mates she likes and those she doesn't like, with a 9-5 job, with normal hopes and fears and anxieties. However, judging from the first line in the story, she doesn't know what she's doing in New York. But the story doesn't start with "I don't know why I'm in New York." Even more inexplicably, It starts with "It was a queer, sultry summer, the summer they electrocuted the Rosenbergs, and I didn't know what I was doing in New York." Let's break this up. 1) she mentions the weather, as "sultry," hot and humid, and "queer." As this probably means strange and not the other, more modern, meaning, this becomes much more interesting and confusing. Why would she describe a season as strange, not right, not normal, when it's just a season, no less open to strangeness than spring, fall, or winter? Maybe it's hotter than normal? That would explain the "sultry" adjective, but "sultry" is quite a normal aspect to peg onto a summer. But this could all be just semantics and fluff, and be totally useless past the temperature reference. 2) "The summer they electrocuted the Rosenbergs" is the next thing she mentions, less inexplicable as it's probably to set a date on the story (which I forget). However, later on the page she notices an effect on her mind because its mentioned so often, where the Rosenbergs' faces appear "behind" such things as her breakfast (Appetizing, I'm sure) and her boyfriend (ditto). 3) And then, her aimless feeling. Even more easily explained than the Rosenberg date, as sophomore slump plus coming-of-age confusion. But taken all together, do we get a spectrum of inexplicable to quickly and succinctly explained? Yes, but no. Its an opening statement, the thematic prologue to the book as a whole. So it makes little sense on its own, but when taken with the reading it gains more meaning. Queer and sultry together echo the conditions in her mind by the end of the book. The reference to the Rosenbergs, while useful in pinpointing the date for OCD things like that, is more indicative of the idea of the recurring image, the "greasy black balloon" that stuck with her and wouldn't go away. The confusion is part of the background as the Empire State building is, part of the backdrop against which she will finds her way or not.
Am. Lit Per. 2
Mrs. LaMagdeleine
Esther, at first glance, appears to be a normal female New Yorker college student, with dorm mates she likes and those she doesn't like, with a 9-5 job, with normal hopes and fears and anxieties. However, judging from the first line in the story, she doesn't know what she's doing in New York. But the story doesn't start with "I don't know why I'm in New York." Even more inexplicably, It starts with "It was a queer, sultry summer, the summer they electrocuted the Rosenbergs, and I didn't know what I was doing in New York." Let's break this up. 1) she mentions the weather, as "sultry," hot and humid, and "queer." As this probably means strange and not the other, more modern, meaning, this becomes much more interesting and confusing. Why would she describe a season as strange, not right, not normal, when it's just a season, no less open to strangeness than spring, fall, or winter? Maybe it's hotter than normal? That would explain the "sultry" adjective, but "sultry" is quite a normal aspect to peg onto a summer. But this could all be just semantics and fluff, and be totally useless past the temperature reference. 2) "The summer they electrocuted the Rosenbergs" is the next thing she mentions, less inexplicable as it's probably to set a date on the story (which I forget). However, later on the page she notices an effect on her mind because its mentioned so often, where the Rosenbergs' faces appear "behind" such things as her breakfast (Appetizing, I'm sure) and her boyfriend (ditto). 3) And then, her aimless feeling. Even more easily explained than the Rosenberg date, as sophomore slump plus coming-of-age confusion. But taken all together, do we get a spectrum of inexplicable to quickly and succinctly explained? Yes, but no. Its an opening statement, the thematic prologue to the book as a whole. So it makes little sense on its own, but when taken with the reading it gains more meaning. Queer and sultry together echo the conditions in her mind by the end of the book. The reference to the Rosenbergs, while useful in pinpointing the date for OCD things like that, is more indicative of the idea of the recurring image, the "greasy black balloon" that stuck with her and wouldn't go away. The confusion is part of the background as the Empire State building is, part of the backdrop against which she will finds her way or not.
Thursday, April 9, 2009
Moving Forward
Will Landschulz
Am Lit Per. 2
Mrs. LaMagdeleine
And so, after a few rocky moments, Ms. Watson has befriended many of the girls in class and given them pause after some of her lectures. Even though she needs to be stern with a few of them to get them to start thinking for themselves (and Betty hasn't come around yet, if she ever does), they eventually benefit from considering the questions she poses to them. Joan, who is heading down the railroad path laid out for her with a boyfriend who shows the same affection for her as she does for him, had an idea of going to law school, but decided against it because of the strain it would put on her beau. When asked about where she would like to go, she says (paraphrased): "I haven't thought about it much, but I'd like to go to Yale, because they have 5 spots for women and one unofficially comes from Wellesley College." As pointed out by Katherine, you'd have to be thinking very hard about where you want to go if you know your favorite's admissions quirks by heart. Although the best moment thus far for Katherine was handing out a 40-minute test involving several compare-and-contrast questions and a 1500 word essay question and giving Joan a Yale admissions form instead. Without missing a beat and admonishing students to keep their "heads forward, please." Later, Joan confesses to Betty (of all people) that she applied to Yale Law. Although Betty immediately starts hissing in her face about how she's giving up on what she wanted and belittles her chosen fate as not a woman's job, accusing her of being thoughtless toward her boyfriend, and generally being as much of a jerk as a housewife can, Joan adds that they accepted her. It remains to be seen whether Joan will accept the place or not.
Am Lit Per. 2
Mrs. LaMagdeleine
And so, after a few rocky moments, Ms. Watson has befriended many of the girls in class and given them pause after some of her lectures. Even though she needs to be stern with a few of them to get them to start thinking for themselves (and Betty hasn't come around yet, if she ever does), they eventually benefit from considering the questions she poses to them. Joan, who is heading down the railroad path laid out for her with a boyfriend who shows the same affection for her as she does for him, had an idea of going to law school, but decided against it because of the strain it would put on her beau. When asked about where she would like to go, she says (paraphrased): "I haven't thought about it much, but I'd like to go to Yale, because they have 5 spots for women and one unofficially comes from Wellesley College." As pointed out by Katherine, you'd have to be thinking very hard about where you want to go if you know your favorite's admissions quirks by heart. Although the best moment thus far for Katherine was handing out a 40-minute test involving several compare-and-contrast questions and a 1500 word essay question and giving Joan a Yale admissions form instead. Without missing a beat and admonishing students to keep their "heads forward, please." Later, Joan confesses to Betty (of all people) that she applied to Yale Law. Although Betty immediately starts hissing in her face about how she's giving up on what she wanted and belittles her chosen fate as not a woman's job, accusing her of being thoughtless toward her boyfriend, and generally being as much of a jerk as a housewife can, Joan adds that they accepted her. It remains to be seen whether Joan will accept the place or not.
Pleasantville University
Will Landschulz
Am Lit Per. 2,
Mrs. LaMagdeleine
We see that the students enter the school with an oath to pursue knowledge and to use it. However, the times they live in make those words hollow, as the students pursue knowledge of art history in class while using only the fine arts of Elocution, Poise, and multitasking. Particularly creepy is the Elocution class, where all the students (in brightly colored cocktail dresses) say, in unison, "Hello, Ms. Watson" in perfect, Stepford-wives fashion. However, the other elements are more tragic than scary. The antagonist, Betty, applies wholesale to the doctrines taught by life, such as that the wife should stay at home and provide a pleasant, one-track habitat for her man. As such, she is scandalized when someone breaks the status quo, and likewise breaks out the typewriter in the way others would break the covering on a fire alarm - without delay and with a great deal of noise. For example, one of the protagonist Katherine Watson's roommates, the school nurse and a lesbian whose partner has died, gives contraception to another of Ms. Watson's students, Giselle. Giselle, in typical rebelling attitude, hides it poorly then practically boasts about it to her roommates. Unfortunately, this includes Betty, who is scandalized that the school nurse would give out - gasp - contraception just by being asked. Out comes the typewriter, out comes the school paper w/ editorial on the first page, out goes Ms. Watson's roommate. Betty, it seems, will do anything in her power to remove "subversive" elements. She is soon to be married, and a rather telling thing she does at the wedding is manipulate her husband-to-be into reading her favorite poem. Thus, she shoehorns herself into a household that is "everything she ever wanted," i.e. as iridescent and ephemeral as a soap bubble, with two Stepford-smiling newlyweds trapped inside. In this way, the 50s are portrayed as a time that forced women, no matter what they did, to conform to the standards of the time.
Am Lit Per. 2,
Mrs. LaMagdeleine
We see that the students enter the school with an oath to pursue knowledge and to use it. However, the times they live in make those words hollow, as the students pursue knowledge of art history in class while using only the fine arts of Elocution, Poise, and multitasking. Particularly creepy is the Elocution class, where all the students (in brightly colored cocktail dresses) say, in unison, "Hello, Ms. Watson" in perfect, Stepford-wives fashion. However, the other elements are more tragic than scary. The antagonist, Betty, applies wholesale to the doctrines taught by life, such as that the wife should stay at home and provide a pleasant, one-track habitat for her man. As such, she is scandalized when someone breaks the status quo, and likewise breaks out the typewriter in the way others would break the covering on a fire alarm - without delay and with a great deal of noise. For example, one of the protagonist Katherine Watson's roommates, the school nurse and a lesbian whose partner has died, gives contraception to another of Ms. Watson's students, Giselle. Giselle, in typical rebelling attitude, hides it poorly then practically boasts about it to her roommates. Unfortunately, this includes Betty, who is scandalized that the school nurse would give out - gasp - contraception just by being asked. Out comes the typewriter, out comes the school paper w/ editorial on the first page, out goes Ms. Watson's roommate. Betty, it seems, will do anything in her power to remove "subversive" elements. She is soon to be married, and a rather telling thing she does at the wedding is manipulate her husband-to-be into reading her favorite poem. Thus, she shoehorns herself into a household that is "everything she ever wanted," i.e. as iridescent and ephemeral as a soap bubble, with two Stepford-smiling newlyweds trapped inside. In this way, the 50s are portrayed as a time that forced women, no matter what they did, to conform to the standards of the time.
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