Thursday, April 16, 2009

When I have fears that I may cease to be

Even without reading past the title of John Keats's "When I have fears that I may cease to be," it is obvious that he is talking about his own trepidations, specifically those involving death. But while this is accurate in a broad sense, Keats actually focuses less on actual loss of life than on running out of time before he is able to accomplish two life goals that are important to him. Simply put, Keats, through the speaker of the poem, wants to put to paper all of the thoughts and poems still in his head, as well as fulfill a romance with the unnamed woman to whom the poem is addressed. While this is a relatively simple basis for a poem, the idea of dying before meeting one’s goals is an incredibly frightening notion, and Keats’s (tragically founded) fears of death create an atmosphere of inevitability and regret that permeate the poem.
Perhaps the saddest element of Keats’s “Fears” is that it turned out to be an eerily timely piece of foreshadowing. Keats wrote the poem in 1818, at the ripe age of 23. He died less than three years later. While there is no evidence that Keats was suffering from tuberculosis, the disease that eventually ended his life, in 1818, he had certainly seen plenty of death around him before this point. Tuberculosis, it seemed, ran in the family as both his mother and brother fell victim to the disease before Keats. For this reason, he would certainly have reason to be curious about having one’s life ended prematurely. The lines about the unnamed woman in the poem also seem to fit, as in 1818 Keats moved next door to a woman named Fanny Brawne, who he quickly fell in love with. Brawne did not immediately reciprocate Keats’s affection, and he was understandably anxious about her not returning his feelings for her. While there is an important distinction between speaker and poet, there are too many parallels between the attitude expressed by the speaker and events in Keats’s own life for the two to be entirely separate.
At the beginning of the poem, the reader is exposed Keats’s desire to write prolifically, as is evidenced by the fact that first reason for not wanting to die is that he wants to put to paper all of the ideas in his “teeming brain.” He refers to his brain as a storehouse of grain, a storehouse that needs to be emptied before it is too late. This creates the idea that not only does Keats enjoy writing, but also that he must write, to the point that one of his greatest fears is not being able to finish writing. There are several reasons why this may be so. Maybe he actually does enjoy the process of writing poetry this much, but the language in the first few lines suggests an entirely different motive for not wanting to stop writing. The notion that he wishes to write “high-piled books” worth of poetry seems to indicate a desire to publish, rather than just a desire to write. And this, in turn, may suggest that what Keats is truly searching for is the “fame” that he mentions in the final line of the poem, a desire to be remembered long after his mortal death. One can certainly understand how, to someone obsessed with being remembered for their work, the idea of dying before doing enough to be immortalized is a frightening one.
Keats’s next fear is equally complex, as he then turns his attention to his anxiety about losing his chance to fulfill unrealized love. The cloud metaphor creates the image that love is billowing on the horizon, within reach if only he survives to grasp them. Keats, as an English Romantic poet, seems to be as fond as some of his peers of idealizing love, and he desperately wishes to experience love before he dies. This is especially important to him because Brawne, the person that one could infer that poem is written to, did not return Keats’s affection until later.
The prevailing themes of the poem involve the inevitability of death as well as the regret that the speaker would feel if his life ended today. This stays true in the final couplet, where the speaker comments that death eventually conquers love and fame, causing them to sink “to nothingness.” The prevailing image at the end of the poem is a metaphor comparing death to the shores of an ocean, a place where all life eventually washes up. Keats’s poem demonstrates the power of death to take, to take away his writing, his fame, his love and, inevitably, his life. However, it also shows the importance of life, short and transitory as it is, by demonstrating the importance of making the most of it while one is still able. Keats was able to do this, assuaging both of the fears he sets forth in the poem, his love as well as his everlasting fame, before his untimely death.

Tuesday, April 14, 2009

Reading Update

As you may or may not be aware, I am reading Hemingway's A Farewell to Arms for my AP English book. I am about two-thirds of the way and I am thoroughly enjoying it (as much as one can enjoy a grim book about World War I). Last year, in my first real foray into Modernist literature, I liked both of the books that we read from that period, Hemingway's The Sun Also Rises and Fitzgerald's The Great Gatsby and I was excited to read more. I also have a bizarre (some might call it "unhealthy") interest in World War I and the various literature that goes with it. Thus far, it seems like Hemingway does a great job of illustrating the horrors of wartime Europe while also making it personal for the reader through Lieutenant Henry and his burgeoning romance with Catherine Barkley. Overall, I am enjoying the novel and I look forward to writing an essay about it (that last part is a lie).

Tuesday, March 10, 2009

The Importance of Being Mediocre

"Pop! I'm a dime a dozen, and so are you!" Biff's outburst near the end of Act 2 of Death of a Salesman brings to the forefront one important theme from the play that until then had been lurking in shadowy subtext: characters' acceptance of their own mediocrity. It is a small thing, the acceptance of being average, but it permeates almost everything that Willy and his sons attempt over the course of the play. Willy sees himself as the embodyment of the American Dream, and does everything in his power to make this vision a reality. He realies on his own hard work and intuition to fufill his dreams of wealth but lacks the talent to accomplish them. Throughout the story, Willy attempts to escape what he is: a mediocre traveling salesman. There is nothing terribly wrong with this, but it is his denial of this fact that creates many of the problems that later destroy him. Willy lives in a false reality that he has fashioned for himself, and he causes problems when he drags his sons into this ideal. Biff worships Willy for much of his childhood, and naturally draws on him for inspiration. It is not suprising therefore, that when Willy builds Biff up during high school, Biff winds up believing some of the praise, to his own detriment. It takes Biff almost until the end of the play to realize the fundemental truth about himself that Willy simply cannot comprehend: that he is just like everyone else. This theme resonated with me simply because I could understand Willy's position. We are all raised to believe that we have the potential for greatness, and after a while we start to believe it. And yet, the fact of the matter is that the vast majority of us end up working boring jobs and living mediocre lives. We all try to make excuses for our shortcomings, but sometimes in life we fail simply because we aren't good enough. This is an incredibly scary thought, and one that is very difficult to accept. At the end of the play, Willy Loman is forced to accept the fact that he is not special, and unable to live the American Dream because of it, and it destroys him.

Monday, February 23, 2009

Chekhov's Gun: Gender Roles in A Doll's House

While it is easy to dismiss the odd relationship between Torvald and Nora as a relic of 19th century European culture, it does play a central role in the story and deserves to be addressed.  From the beginning of Act I, it is clear that Torvald and Nora have an idiosyncratic relationship even by the standards of the time.  While it was seemingly common for the husband to have all the power in marriages at the time, the extent to which Torvald demeans and even dehumanizes Nora is truly staggering.  Torvald treats Nora like property throughout the play, forcing her to have sex and smothering all of her attempts to assert herself.  While he is not actively cruel to Nora throughout the play, this flawed relationship leads, either directly or indirectly, to all the conflicts in the play.
 While there is nothing directly wrong with the marriage, because Torvald does not take Nora seriously, he does not feel that she can do anything without his help.  This leads to an innate lack of trust between the two when Nora gets herself into trouble.  While Nora is somewhat at fault for not taking a more active role in asserting her position and refusing to accept the consequences of some of her actions, the true problems in the marriage all lie with Torvald.  He created the situation through his archaic views on marriage, views that Ibsen criticizes through the effect that they have on Nora.  During the moment of truth, when Torvald reads Krogstad's letters, he spoils a chance to redeem his character by verbally berating Nora.  His anger seems to stem less from the direness of the situation (Krogstad has already forgiven Nora by this point), than from her perceived attempt to undermine his authority as husband.  Torvald calls Nora a liar and a hypocrite, conveniently forgetting that she did what she did in order to save his life.  Nora is certainly not a perfect character in her own right. She is vain and often oblivious by modern standards, but as the play progresses the reader gains sympathy for her as they begin to see the situation that she is forced to deal with at home, a situation that is created by Torvald's attitude towards women and marriage.

Monday, February 9, 2009

Hamlet's Hastiness: a Harbinger of Horrors

Much has been made in class about Hamlet's perceived tragic flaw. That is, his inability to act quickly and decisively. However, just to be a contrarian, I plan argue the exact opposite: not only is Hamlet's indecision about his course of action a justified human response to his situation, but it is also true that the worst tragedies in the play occur when Hamlet acts rashly without considering other possibilities. Indeed, it can be argued that the play would not have the tragic ending that it does had Hamlet simply thought a bit more before acting.
First of all, while it is easy to ridicule Hamlet for not acting when, from the audience's perspective, it is fairly obvious that Claudius is guilty, it is important to look at the larger perspective of the potential act. At the time of play, Hamlet is still a young man who has probably never even seriously considered killing another man, much less actually doing the deed. And yet, he is being told to kill a blood relative by, of all people, a ghost that happens to look like his father. Even considering Hamlet's mental state and natural suspicion of his uncle, killing another human being simply because a ghost tells him to is somewhat hard to justify. And when one considers the social and religious ramifications of killing one's uncle (not to even mention the political implications of killing the King of Denmark), it is perfectly understandable that Hamlet wishes to acquire further evidence before doing something so drastic and unalterable.
In addition, when Hamlet does depart from form and act drastically, it almost always ends in failure and tragedy. For example, when Hamlet is confronted by Ophelia in Act 3 scene 1, he assumes that Ophelia is attempting to end their relationship and rashly yells at her. Not only does Hamlet lose a chance at love as well as a invaluable ally to his revenge plot, but he also seals Ophelia's fate, causing irreparable mental and emotional damage that eventually leads to her suicide. Of course, the most obvious instance of Hamlet acting rashly in the first four acts is his stabbing of Polonius, which was a terrible act not only because of the act itself, but also because of its effect on the rest of the plot. After hearing about his father's death, Laertes vows to kill his father's assassin, thus giving Claudius a useful ally and a means to kill Hamlet without getting his hands dirty. Who knows how long Hamlet's revenge plot might have gone on without Laertes drawing him into a duel to the death. For this reason, it is not a stretch to suggest that had Hamlet simply thought a bit more before ramming his sword through the curtain and killing Polonius, the story might have had a very different ending.

Monday, January 26, 2009

Creon: The True Tragic Hero of Antigone

Throughout history, the character of Antigone has been an inspiration for many groups rebelling against totalitarian governments, and rightfully so. Antigone is a heroine and a martyr who dies doing what she believes is correct and moral. Despite her death however, Antigone is not the most tragic character in Sophocles's play. That honor falls to Creon, King of Thebes and Antigone's primary foil and adversary. Because the story is told primarily from Antigone's perspective, it is easy to forget that Creon is the one who loses everything he holds dear. Sophocles wrote Antigone as a tragedy, but he made Creon, his villain, the truly tragic character of the play.
While it is a challenge to view Creon as a tragic hero because it is hard to feel empathy for him, when one takes a step from the text it becomes apparent that Creon exhibits all the characteristics of a tragic hero. He has a high societal status , indeed, as a king he occupies the highest status in the land. While he has not been king for long enough to entirely gain the admiration of the people, it is apparent that the chorus seems mostly supportive of his actions at the outset of the play. However, as with all tragic heroes, Creon has a tragic flaw. In his case, this flaw can be found in his stubbornness and rigidity in his views. While not exactly hubris, Creon's stubbornness leads directly to his undoing, whether it occurs when he is arguing with Antigone or yelling at his own son. Creon's fiery stubbornness occurs as early as Scene I, when he shouts at the Choragos for suggesting that the gods could have played a role in burying Polyneices, calling them a bunch of "doddering wrecks." And he holds on to his opinion through his argument with Tiresias in Scene V.
However, the true tragedy of the play occurs during Creon's condemnation of Antigone for burying her brother. As strongly as Antigone believes that burying Polyneices is the proper thing to do, Creon believes just as ardently that Antigone's brother was a traitor who should never receive a burial. This rigid belief is what undoes Creon in the long run. It is not that though Antigone's crime is truly that severe, it is more that Creon becomes set is his views and furious when someone, even his son's betrothed, goes against them. His frustration at Antigone's actions, combined with the excessive power that he possesses as king, causes him to treat Antigone in a way that antagonizes everyone in the play, most notably his own son as well as the citizens he claimed to always put first. In the end, Creon's tragedy is complete when he loses his son, his wife and the trust of the people, all due to a chain of events that he himself instigated. While it is easy to consider Antigone a tragic heroine and a martyr because she dies while Creon lives, Creon actually suffers far more because he is forced to live with the loss of everything that he held dear. Creon may not be the hero of Antigone, but his story is a tragic one and he ends the story praying for death, laid low at the mercy of fate and the gods. (545)

Monday, January 12, 2009

"Death cancels everything but the truth."

As I read through The Death of Ivan Illych, I was reminded of a proverb: "Death cancels everything but the truth." Up until the illness, Ivan Illych lives a life of materialistic insignificance, making large decisions in his life that are designed to please other people in his life rather than himself. As a result, at the outset of his illness he has exactly the sort of life that he thinks that he should have, with a well-paying job and an attractive wife. However, because he does not genuinely enjoy these things, his life is but a cold facsimile of an actual successful life, a house of cards ready to fall at a moment's notice. This is what the illness does to Ivan Illych, it challenges his notions about death and forces him to look beyond the materialistic confines of his life.
Ivan Illych's spiral towards death manages to be both justified and depressingly tragic. From the beginning, Tolstoy clearly feels disdain for the stock character that Ivan Illych represents, using an ironic narrative voice at several points in the story. Tolstoy establishes Illych as being an opportunistic sinner at the beginning of the book, and it is not until way later that the reader feels any pity for him. And yet, the reader does eventually feel pity for Ivan Illych as he nears death. It is not simply the fact that he is dying, it is the overwhelming sense that Ivan Illych has entirely wasted his life and that it is too late for him to do anything about it. Indeed, his inability to grasp this frustrates Ivan Illych at the beginning of his illness as he reflects on the idea that he should not be suffering because he believes he has lived a good life. Ivan Illych's discovery that "I have not lived as I ought to" sounds like a man who has lost everything that he thought he had. As his death draws, he cannot stand the presence of his wife and his friends have all but abandoned him, concerned only with how his death will affect their job status. The only thing Ivan Illych has to his credit is the reoccurring question, "why is this happening to me." For a man who thought he had everything only to be left with nothing, this must be a very depressing question.
In many ways, Ivan Illych's death is the most meaningful aspect of his life. It is only after he has lost everything that he once cherished (his all-important status symbols) and embraced the idea that "it was not all the right thing," that he is able to die in peace. It took Ivan Illych a lifetime to realize that doing what society expected of him does not lead to happiness, but this realization was the crown jewel of his life, and it gave more genuine meaning to his final moments than all the moments that came before in his life.