One Hundred Years of Solitude by Gabriel García Márquez was one of the most enjoyable books I have read this year. As mentioned in previous blog entries, I was absolutely in love with the diction, the lyrical structure of the sentences, the way Márquez was able to make absolutely everything sound beautiful. He has a voice unlike anything I have ever read, and from the first page, I was sucked straight into this story. I absolutely loved every moment…
…until the end.
I have to say, the ending of this beautiful novel left me with a disgusting taste in the back of my mouth. To be perfectly honest, I really didn’t enjoy the last quarter of the book nearly as much as I had the beginning. Úrsula, the steadfast woman who held the house together, who had a cure for every possible ailment imaginable, the woman who brought in the most reliable source of income for the family for years and years, was turned into a blind and hallucinating plaything for the little children. I was very annoyed that Márquez did not give her a more dignified death. Once she died, there was really no one left that I wanted to read about. I had already invested a great deal of emotion and love into the stories of Úrsula, José Arcadio Buendia, Amaranta, José Arcadio, Colonel Aureliano Buendia, Rebeca, Aureliano José, Arcadio, Aureliano Segundo, and Remedios the Beauty. I did not care much for the reclusive José Arcadio Segundo, and I had very little love for any characters after. Fernanda del Carpio was a stuck-up little snob who overpowered Úrsula and forced the entire household to go through stupid rituals so that she could feel more like a Queen. I had absolutely no sympathy for her. Santa Sofia de la Piedad, the wife of the late Arcadio, was the only living character that reminded me of how the book began, and she rarely appeared. The house seemed dominated by Fernanda and her wayward children. They were all off at boarding school, so we never really formed a bond with the characters. Our first impression of Meme is when she shows up to the house with about sixty of her classmates without telling her parents that they are coming. My first thought was, “Wow. What a spoiled little brat.” Then, just as I was beginning to like her rebellious character, her lover is shot trying to visit her and she is sent to a convent, never to be heard from again. José Arcadio was a boring character that only surfaced long enough to be in love with the late Amaranta and then die.
The last hope I had for this novel rested in Aureliano, the son of Meme and her lover. As a child, he was kept in captivity and refused any contact with the outside world by none other than the wicked witch of the west—Fernanda. Again, what a selfish little princess. I was secretly waiting for some moment with that adorable wild-child would find a window he could sneak out of and go cause trouble like the beloved Buendias of the beginning of the novel. Instead, he remained thoroughly trapped, and when he was finally allowed into the outside world, he had lost all curiosity for it. When Amaranta Úrsula returned to Macondo with her husband Gaston, I was shocked at how boring and lifeless Márquez portrayed Macondo. In the beginning, Macondo was such a magical place, always buzzing with life. They were visited by the incredible gypsies, they took up arms and rioted when Don Mascote tried to dictate their lives, and there was a shower of yellow flowers when José Arcadio Buendia died. What has become of all those people now? What happened to the Macondo we all grew to love?
But most of all, what truly horrified me about the ending was the fact that the BABY WAS DRAGGED OFF AND EATEN BY ANTS!!!! Did Márquez really have to do that? I almost threw up when I read the line, “It was a dry and bloated bag of skin that all the ants in the world were dragging toward their holes along the stone path in the garden” (414). So I will happily describe how I think the book should have ended. Amaranta Úrsula should have borne a child by her husband Gaston, who is not a Buendia, and therefore the child would not be a Buendia. Then Amaranta Úrsula and Aureliano’s love affair should have begun. When the child was old enough to travel, Gaston should have found out about the love affair and then taken the child far away from his unfaithful mother. While Amaranta Úrsula was pregnant with Aureliano’s child, that is when Aureliano should have deciphered the last lines of the Gypsy poem and realized that Macondo was about to be swept off the face of the earth. Then father, mother, and unborn child could have at least died together, rather than be killed separately by childbirth, ants, and the destruction of Macondo. And then the book could have ended with the child of Amaranta Úrsula and Gaston hearing of the deaths and one day returned to Macondo with dreams of rebuilding it as it had once been. This way, the Buendia line has died off, as was predicted by the gypsies, but there is still a glimmer of hope in the hearts of the readers for the legendary Macondo to be rebuilt. (912)
Sunday, April 27, 2008
Saturday, April 19, 2008
Falling In Love with Gabriel García Márquez
(Dear Mr. Coon,
I apologize that this blog is a day late. I'm currently in Virginia, as you may know, to celebrate my mom winning the Alumna of the Year award from the University of Virginia. Since most of yesterday was spent at the university listening to her give speeches and such, I planned to write the blog when I got home last night. Unfortunately, I became really ill in the middle of dinner and ended up going home and sleeping for twelve hours. I won't go into the gross details, but if you need to hear from anyone else, both my mom and Alexis Glascock can attest to my state.
This little blurb was not counted in the final wordcount. And just in case you need a good laugh, please know that I'm leaning halfway out the window, balancing my laptop just to try and steal the neighbor's interent wireless connection so I can post this blog :) Have a good weekend.)
From the moment I started reading One Hundred Years of Solitude, I knew I was going to fall in love. Gabriel García Márquez has absolutely captured me, and to be honest, I’m not even sure how. The book does not really revolve around any character in particular, there is very little dialogue, and the plot jumps around every few pages. Yet somehow, I cannot put this book down. Something about the lineage of the Buendía family, the hopes we share with Úrsula for the future of the family, and the eloquence with which Márquez neatly wraps the book into one complete package keeps any reader absolutely entranced and desperate for more.
When I first wrote about the strength of Úrsula, my favorite character up to that point, I had no idea what a vital role she would play throughout the book. In fact, I was rather upset wondering how many pages she would live through. But Úrsula has lived on, and in fact she “resisted growing old even when she had already lost count of her age” (246). I found myself incredibly impressed with Úrsula throughout the novel, especially when Colonel Aureliano Buendía left young Arcadio in charge of Macondo, and the latter “became the cruelest ruler that Macondo had ever known” (105). Úrsula grew more and more enraged until finally, on the day that Arcadio dragged Don Mascote out into the street with the intention of shooting him, Úrsula ran after him with a pitch-covered whip, until she “chased him to the back of the courtyard where Arcadio curled up like a snail in its shell” (105.) I was so impressed with Úrsula’s fearlessness in this scene; she single-handedly overthrew Macondo’s bloody dictator and took over the rule of the town. Despite how many people Arcadio had had shot just for disrespecting him, he found himself powerless in the face of his grandmother. I also love the way with which Úrsula welcomes all into her home, from Colonel Aureliano’s seventeen children to the young orphan Rebeca to Aureliano Segundo’s ridiculous wife Fernanda del Carpio. If the book has a main character, I believe it is Úrsula, the caretaker of the Buendía lineage and the keeper of the peace in Macondo.
Another striking feature of the novel is the incredible depth of love and tragedy. So many times, we feel hopeful for the lonely characters, hoping that they have finally found love, and oftentimes, it is followed only by tragedy. For example, Amaranta never finds love. She falls for Pietro Crespi, who instead falls in love with her sister, Rebeca. We see the desperate need to love and be loved in Amaranta’s character when she goes so far as to threaten Rebeca with death should she marry Pietro Crespi. When Rebeca becomes disenchanted with Pietro Crespi and instead marries José Arcadio, however, we find hope for Amaranta’s happiness. I will never understand why Amaranta chose to tug Pietro along by a string rather than accept his proposition to marry her. As he showered her with affection and gifts, she continued to turn up her nose until she had driven him to commit suicide. She destroys her own hopes for happiness with a man she had loved so deeply that she was ready to murder for him, and for what? Later in the book, Colonel Gerineldo Márquez seeks her affections, spending hours with Amaranta in the sewing room and bringing her gifts. And yet Amaranta tells him “Let’s forget about each other forever…. We’re too old for this sort of thing now” (163). She clearly has no desire to be alone, being that right after she told the Colonel her final answer, she “locked herself in her bedroom to weep over her solitude unto death” (163). The closest she comes to letting herself love and be loved is her run-in with Aureliano José, a man she had raised from the time he was a little child who fell in love with her and even deserted the army to come back for her. She refuses him, however, and he ends up dying just outside a movie theater, shot by Captain Aquiles Ricardo.
One Hundred Years of Solitude has become an absolute favorite of mine, and I plan to go about reading the rest of Márquez’s work in my spare time. Though I still cannot figure out what it is exactly about this book that has captured my imagination, I’m sure I will reread it many times throughout my life. In fact, I’m actually dreading writing the final paper on the novel, because I have no idea how to encompass everything I love under one thesis statement. (773)
The articles I plan to use are:
Fiction as History: The Bananeras and Gabriel Garcia Marquez's One Hundred Years of Solitude
Eduardo Posada-Carbo
Journal of Latin American Studies, Vol. 30, No. 2 (May, 1998), pp. 395-414
Published by: Cambridge University Press
(though it may talk too much about the war the book was based off of and not enough about the book itself)
The Necessity of the Literary Tradition: Gabriel Garcia Marquez's "One-Hundred Years of Solitude"
James C. Jupp
The English Journal, Vol. 89, No. 3, Our History, Ourselves (Jan., 2000), pp. 113-115
Published by: National Council of Teachers of English
Cien anos de soledad: History and the Novel
Anna Marie Taylor
Latin American Perspectives, Vol. 2, No. 3, Colombia: The Anti-Imperialist Struggle (Autumn, 1975), pp. 96-112
Published by: Sage Publications, Inc.
Tuesday, April 15, 2008
Color's Strife
The poem White Lies by Natasha Trethewey is a heartbreaking poem about what it was like to fight one’s own color just to find acceptance. Trethewey tells the story of herself as a young girl hiding her true skin color as a means of finding acceptance. The use of vivid imagery and colors throughout the poem allows Trethewey to paint us a melancholy picture of not only the shame and fear, but also the courage and determination that guided the life of a young African American girl growing up in Mississippi.
White Lies is a personal poem written about Trethewey’s childhood. Her parents had interracially married, which was against Mississippi law at the time. Trethewey was born with skin light enough that she could pass for a white girl, and she spent her youth lying about her heritage and where her family came from. Her feelings of shame toward her background are evident when she writes, “I could easily tell the white folks / that we lived uptown, / not in that pink and green / shanty-fied shotgun section / along the tracks” (7-11). Though driven by shame, however, that shame led to a strong sense of determination, one that inspired her to make her own dresses so that she could pretend “came straight out the window / of Maison Blanche” (13-14). Every young girl dreams of fitting in—Trethewey learned that pretending to be white would win her friendship and love. In the lines “I could even keep quiet… like the time a white girl said / (squeezing my hand), Now / we have three of us in this class” (14-17), we begin to understand how lonely this poor girl is. Unable to identify with either race—white or black—and hurt by a divorce between her parents, Trethewey’s desperate need to belong is understandable.
The most striking feature of White Lies is Trethewey’s use of colors. In the first ten lines alone, Trethewey mentions a color eight times. By introducing the poem this way, Trethewey imprints the importance of color into our minds, making us aware throughout the poem. She plays around with a double meaning of the word “white”, used not only to signify what she views as the superior race, but also to place less weight on the lies she has told. We view lies very differently from white lies—the former is something we’ve known is wrong from childhood, and the latter is a little fib told to avoid hurting another’s feelings or to hide something trivial. Ironically, Trethewey uses the word “white” to mean both important and unimportant. Her reference to color in the very last stanza, however, is the one that leaves the biggest impression on us as readers. Unlike the first stanza, the last contains only one mention of a color, signifying the importance of this final image. Trethewey says that whenever her mother caught her lying about her heritage, she “washed out my mouth / with Ivory soap” (23-24). In a sense, Trethewey’s own tongue is stained white from all the white lies she’s told, and yet her mother is using white soap to wash out all the white lies. Trethewey, rather than resisting, “swallowed the suds / thinking they’d work / from the inside out” (26-28), a symbol of how desperately she wants to identify with only the Caucasian side of her background. She believes that white is pure, and therefore must wash out all the blackness inside her with the Ivory soap in order to find her place in the world.
White Lies is a sad poem of yearning and loneliness. Trethewey is caught in a life where her friends only accept her because she is living a lie, and her mother does not accept her for who she wishes she were. Though the title of the poem at first seems to suggest that the lies Trethewey told were trivial, a deeper reading proves that they were anything but. (669)
White Lies is a personal poem written about Trethewey’s childhood. Her parents had interracially married, which was against Mississippi law at the time. Trethewey was born with skin light enough that she could pass for a white girl, and she spent her youth lying about her heritage and where her family came from. Her feelings of shame toward her background are evident when she writes, “I could easily tell the white folks / that we lived uptown, / not in that pink and green / shanty-fied shotgun section / along the tracks” (7-11). Though driven by shame, however, that shame led to a strong sense of determination, one that inspired her to make her own dresses so that she could pretend “came straight out the window / of Maison Blanche” (13-14). Every young girl dreams of fitting in—Trethewey learned that pretending to be white would win her friendship and love. In the lines “I could even keep quiet… like the time a white girl said / (squeezing my hand), Now / we have three of us in this class” (14-17), we begin to understand how lonely this poor girl is. Unable to identify with either race—white or black—and hurt by a divorce between her parents, Trethewey’s desperate need to belong is understandable.
The most striking feature of White Lies is Trethewey’s use of colors. In the first ten lines alone, Trethewey mentions a color eight times. By introducing the poem this way, Trethewey imprints the importance of color into our minds, making us aware throughout the poem. She plays around with a double meaning of the word “white”, used not only to signify what she views as the superior race, but also to place less weight on the lies she has told. We view lies very differently from white lies—the former is something we’ve known is wrong from childhood, and the latter is a little fib told to avoid hurting another’s feelings or to hide something trivial. Ironically, Trethewey uses the word “white” to mean both important and unimportant. Her reference to color in the very last stanza, however, is the one that leaves the biggest impression on us as readers. Unlike the first stanza, the last contains only one mention of a color, signifying the importance of this final image. Trethewey says that whenever her mother caught her lying about her heritage, she “washed out my mouth / with Ivory soap” (23-24). In a sense, Trethewey’s own tongue is stained white from all the white lies she’s told, and yet her mother is using white soap to wash out all the white lies. Trethewey, rather than resisting, “swallowed the suds / thinking they’d work / from the inside out” (26-28), a symbol of how desperately she wants to identify with only the Caucasian side of her background. She believes that white is pure, and therefore must wash out all the blackness inside her with the Ivory soap in order to find her place in the world.
White Lies is a sad poem of yearning and loneliness. Trethewey is caught in a life where her friends only accept her because she is living a lie, and her mother does not accept her for who she wishes she were. Though the title of the poem at first seems to suggest that the lies Trethewey told were trivial, a deeper reading proves that they were anything but. (669)
Friday, April 11, 2008
Four Hundred and Seventeen Pages of Eloquence
I have just started reading Gabriel García Márquez’s novel One Hundred Years of Solitude, and I was shocked to find myself hooked from the first page. While most books start off slow, One Hundred Years of Solitude immediately delved into a fascinating world of gypsies, magic, crazy scientists, and a mysterious mention of a Colonel in front of a firing squad. Márquez succeeded in grabbing my attention from the first line.
What I love most about Márquez’s work is the beautiful language. I have always been a fan of Spanish and how lyrical the structure sounds; One Hundred Years of Solitude, having been translated from Spanish, has the same lyrical quality that I love. I barely had to reach the second page to discover a quote I loved, “Things have a life of their own…. It’s simply a matter of waking up their souls” (2). Marquez’s language is so elegant that he can even make Buendía and his men’s trek through a gloomy forest in despair sound beautiful.
The first character to grab my attention was Úrsula, Buendía’s wife. I was amazed at how supportive she remained despite her husband’s crazy actions. While Buendía founded the town of Macondo and successfully built each house with such precision that “no house got more sun than another during the hot time of day” (9), he later lost all his work ethic to his fascination with gypsy magic. Buendía wastes the money Úrsula’s Father’s had saved for his daughter, first to buy gypsy items and later to melt in a concoction rumored to double the amount. No matter how many times he fails or how much he hurts his wife with his actions, however, she stays by him. Though she loses her temper when he tries to tell his children that the world is flat, she continues to work in the gardens to support her family while her husband chases his fantasies about magic. I was most impressed with Úrsula when Buendía returned from his journey to find a route to civilization and decided to move. She was calm and collected as he made his preparations and packed his items, then chose the opportune moment to ask him hat he had up his sleeve. She refused to be moved by his tales of a better life, knowing that Macondo was the place she would raise her children and live out her days. Úrsula stays admirably strong in the face of her husband, carefully choosing her words to remind Buendía of all that he has been missing while so fascinated with his Gypsy magic. He finally realizes what he has done to his family, “contemplating the children until his eyes became moist” (14). Úrsula impressed me immensely with her ability to fill her husband’s head with reason after so many years of irrationality. She is a very strong woman.
While the lineage of the story is very hard to follow, considering the characters have the same names, I find myself fascinated rather than annoyed. Each time a new character is encountered, he or she raises a new mystery, a need to find out how he or she is tied into the grand scheme of things. Why is Colonel Aureliano Buendía standing before a firing squad? When does he come upon the Spanish galleon that his father found in the forest? How is each character a piece of the puzzle that makes up the rise and fall of Macondo? I admit, I am not terribly far into the book yet, but this was intentional. I don’t have the time to read as much as I would like to, and these past few busy weeks have been no exception. I have been saving this book to read this weekend, lying in the sun and dreaming about Márquez’s magical world. So far, I am extremely intrigued by One Hundred Years of Solitude and cannot wait to piece together the fantastic puzzle such an eloquent writer has created. (660)
What I love most about Márquez’s work is the beautiful language. I have always been a fan of Spanish and how lyrical the structure sounds; One Hundred Years of Solitude, having been translated from Spanish, has the same lyrical quality that I love. I barely had to reach the second page to discover a quote I loved, “Things have a life of their own…. It’s simply a matter of waking up their souls” (2). Marquez’s language is so elegant that he can even make Buendía and his men’s trek through a gloomy forest in despair sound beautiful.
The first character to grab my attention was Úrsula, Buendía’s wife. I was amazed at how supportive she remained despite her husband’s crazy actions. While Buendía founded the town of Macondo and successfully built each house with such precision that “no house got more sun than another during the hot time of day” (9), he later lost all his work ethic to his fascination with gypsy magic. Buendía wastes the money Úrsula’s Father’s had saved for his daughter, first to buy gypsy items and later to melt in a concoction rumored to double the amount. No matter how many times he fails or how much he hurts his wife with his actions, however, she stays by him. Though she loses her temper when he tries to tell his children that the world is flat, she continues to work in the gardens to support her family while her husband chases his fantasies about magic. I was most impressed with Úrsula when Buendía returned from his journey to find a route to civilization and decided to move. She was calm and collected as he made his preparations and packed his items, then chose the opportune moment to ask him hat he had up his sleeve. She refused to be moved by his tales of a better life, knowing that Macondo was the place she would raise her children and live out her days. Úrsula stays admirably strong in the face of her husband, carefully choosing her words to remind Buendía of all that he has been missing while so fascinated with his Gypsy magic. He finally realizes what he has done to his family, “contemplating the children until his eyes became moist” (14). Úrsula impressed me immensely with her ability to fill her husband’s head with reason after so many years of irrationality. She is a very strong woman.
While the lineage of the story is very hard to follow, considering the characters have the same names, I find myself fascinated rather than annoyed. Each time a new character is encountered, he or she raises a new mystery, a need to find out how he or she is tied into the grand scheme of things. Why is Colonel Aureliano Buendía standing before a firing squad? When does he come upon the Spanish galleon that his father found in the forest? How is each character a piece of the puzzle that makes up the rise and fall of Macondo? I admit, I am not terribly far into the book yet, but this was intentional. I don’t have the time to read as much as I would like to, and these past few busy weeks have been no exception. I have been saving this book to read this weekend, lying in the sun and dreaming about Márquez’s magical world. So far, I am extremely intrigued by One Hundred Years of Solitude and cannot wait to piece together the fantastic puzzle such an eloquent writer has created. (660)
Sunday, March 9, 2008
The Worst Case of Writer's Block.....Ever
We are all products of our childhood. The youngest years are the times when we learn when to trust, when to love, when to fight, and when to fly. In the play Fences by August Wilson, we meet two very different characters, Troy and his son Cory. Even though their basic personalities may contrast one another, their childhoods harden them into two men inclined to make very similar decisions.
Troy’s childhood taught him that he could trust no one but himself. His mother ran out on him, his father beat him and eventually drove him to run away, and his wife left him while he was in prison; he has been broken too many times. When greeted by his son Lyons, and optimistic musician, Troy invests nothing in his son’s dreams, but rather tells him, “I done learned my mistake and learned to do what’s right by it. You still trying to get something for nothing. Life don’t owe you nothing. You owe it to yourself” (2006). Unfortunately, the one person in his life that he should’ve trusted came too late. His wife, Rose, is described as, “[recognizing] Troy’s spirit as a fine and illuminating one and she either ignores or forgives his faults” (2000). Throughout the story, she greets Troy warmly and puts up with his somewhat-degrading comments or exaggerated stories. She seems like a perfect wife. Even Bono tells Troy, “I just say she a good woman…. I know what Rose means to you, Troy. I’m just trying to say I don’t want to see you mess up” (2028). Troy responds by admitting, “You can’t find a better woman that Rose” (2028). We are given these and other clues that Rose is the best thing that ever happened to Troy, and yet, his inability to trust leads him to lose the one person who would have never hurt him. Troy cheats on his wife and impregnates another woman, Alberta. Even though his life was stable with Rose, he couldn’t bring himself to trust that life would stay that way. He has been conditioned to snatch at every opportunity that passes him by, not trust the situation he’s already in, and for this reason, he betrays Rose. Alberta was just another opportunity walking by, but Troy had never learned how to let opportunity go by. In the end, Troy dies the same way he has lived most of his life: alone.
While Cory had a much more optimistic youth, he too entered his adult like with crushed hopes. Cory, unlike Troy, had a stable family growing up. His only hardship was believing that his father didn’t like him, a fear that was confirmed when he finally asked his father why and was scolded for his words. Cory’s passion in life was football, and he was good at it. Early in the play, we learn that there is a recruiter after Cory, and that he’s being given the opportunity to play football in college. Unfortunately, his father Troy single-handedly ruins Cory’s big chance. The dream Cory had trusted was taken away from him, and he too learns that life is all about watching out for yourself. Unlike Troy, however, we are left with hope that Cory will learn to trust again someday. When he walks into the house declaring to Rose that he won’t be going to Troy’s funeral, all she has to do is look at him and say, “You Troy Maxson all over again” (2045). Suddenly, we see a much softer Cory, who sings with his little half-sister Raynell and decides to go to the funeral after all. Though he has been conditioned to think like his father, he is still young, and there is still hope that he can learn to trust and love once more.
Troy’s childhood taught him that he could trust no one but himself. His mother ran out on him, his father beat him and eventually drove him to run away, and his wife left him while he was in prison; he has been broken too many times. When greeted by his son Lyons, and optimistic musician, Troy invests nothing in his son’s dreams, but rather tells him, “I done learned my mistake and learned to do what’s right by it. You still trying to get something for nothing. Life don’t owe you nothing. You owe it to yourself” (2006). Unfortunately, the one person in his life that he should’ve trusted came too late. His wife, Rose, is described as, “[recognizing] Troy’s spirit as a fine and illuminating one and she either ignores or forgives his faults” (2000). Throughout the story, she greets Troy warmly and puts up with his somewhat-degrading comments or exaggerated stories. She seems like a perfect wife. Even Bono tells Troy, “I just say she a good woman…. I know what Rose means to you, Troy. I’m just trying to say I don’t want to see you mess up” (2028). Troy responds by admitting, “You can’t find a better woman that Rose” (2028). We are given these and other clues that Rose is the best thing that ever happened to Troy, and yet, his inability to trust leads him to lose the one person who would have never hurt him. Troy cheats on his wife and impregnates another woman, Alberta. Even though his life was stable with Rose, he couldn’t bring himself to trust that life would stay that way. He has been conditioned to snatch at every opportunity that passes him by, not trust the situation he’s already in, and for this reason, he betrays Rose. Alberta was just another opportunity walking by, but Troy had never learned how to let opportunity go by. In the end, Troy dies the same way he has lived most of his life: alone.
While Cory had a much more optimistic youth, he too entered his adult like with crushed hopes. Cory, unlike Troy, had a stable family growing up. His only hardship was believing that his father didn’t like him, a fear that was confirmed when he finally asked his father why and was scolded for his words. Cory’s passion in life was football, and he was good at it. Early in the play, we learn that there is a recruiter after Cory, and that he’s being given the opportunity to play football in college. Unfortunately, his father Troy single-handedly ruins Cory’s big chance. The dream Cory had trusted was taken away from him, and he too learns that life is all about watching out for yourself. Unlike Troy, however, we are left with hope that Cory will learn to trust again someday. When he walks into the house declaring to Rose that he won’t be going to Troy’s funeral, all she has to do is look at him and say, “You Troy Maxson all over again” (2045). Suddenly, we see a much softer Cory, who sings with his little half-sister Raynell and decides to go to the funeral after all. Though he has been conditioned to think like his father, he is still young, and there is still hope that he can learn to trust and love once more.
Thursday, February 21, 2008
A Snarky Victory
SCENE IV. The Queen's closet.
Enter QUEEN GERTRUDE and POLONIUS
LORD POLONIUS
He will come straight. Look you lay home to him:
Tell him his pranks have been too broad to bear with,
And that your grace hath screen'd and stood between
Much heat and him. I'll sconce me even here.
Pray you, be round with him.
Polonius says that Hamlet is on his way to the queen, and that once there, she must confront him about his madness. He says that the Queen should explain to Hamlet that she’s had to defend his madness for too long, which isn’t fair to her. Really though, he doesn’t care so much about her being forced to defend her son as he does about learning the real reason for Hamlet’s madness, and if it is truly out of love for Ophelia.
HAMLET
[Within] Mother, mother, mother!
QUEEN GERTRUDE
I'll warrant you,
Fear me not: withdraw, I hear him coming.
Encouraged by Polonius’s words, she tells him not to doubt her. She is overly confident in her abilities to find out what is truly wrong with her son, both because of her own pride and because of Polonius’s words.
POLONIUS hides behind the arras
Enter HAMLET
HAMLET
Now, mother, what's the matter?
Hamlet is snide, as usual. His tone is meant to offend the Queen.
QUEEN GERTRUDE
Hamlet, thou hast thy father much offended.
Refusing to let his tone shake her, she ignores it and holds her head high, declaring that Hamlet has upset King Claudius with his play modifications.
HAMLET
Mother, you have my father much offended.
Hamlet retorts that the Queen has offended his real father, the murdered king, both by marrying his brother Claudius so soon after his death and by referring to Claudius as Hamlet’s father.
QUEEN GERTRUDE
Come, come, you answer with an idle tongue.
She is still trying to keep her composure. She believes that if she ignores his remarks for long enough, he will eventually realize they are not producing an effect and resign himself to answering her questions.
HAMLET
Go, go, you question with a wicked tongue.
Hamlet knows he is getting to her, though, and continues with his snarky word-play. He implies that her motives for asking about him are not pure.
QUEEN GERTRUDE
Why, how now, Hamlet!
Hamlet’s last comment hit home. Unable to contain her anger and frustration, she shouts at him for his disrespect and insistence on avoiding the conversation.
HAMLET
What's the matter now?
Hamlet plays completely cool, even smiles a little in mock-concern as he inquires about her sudden outburst.
QUEEN GERTRUDE
Have you forgot me?
She is trying to remind Hamlet of the respect he owes her as his mother.
HAMLET
No, by the rood, not so:
You are the queen, your husband's brother's wife;
And--would it were not so!--you are my mother.
Hamlet replies that he knows her, but rather than starting by saying she is his mother, he starts by saying that she married her dead husband’s brother, something he cannot seem to forgive her for. He says the first two lines casually, but when he finally admits that she is his mother, his tone becomes slightly angry.
QUEEN GERTRUDE
Nay, then, I'll set those to you that can speak.
The queen is becoming nervous. Hamlet’s behavior is scaring her; she is no longer confident.
HAMLET
Come, come, and sit you down; you shall not budge;
You go not till I set you up a glass
Where you may see the inmost part of you.
Hamlet’s smile is now sinister as he gestures for her to sit down, but once again, his tone becomes angrier and angrier as he declares that he will put a mirror in front of her so that she may look into her own eyes and see her own wretchedness.
QUEEN GERTRUDE
What wilt thou do? thou wilt not murder me?
Help, help, ho!
The queen has lost all composure and cries out for help.
LORD POLONIUS
[Behind] What, ho! help, help, help!
HAMLET
[Drawing] How now! a rat? Dead, for a ducat, dead!
Makes a pass through the arras
Hamlet, already provoked, becomes enraged at the idea that someone is eavesdropping on him. He does not think twice about killing whoever is listening to their conversation.
LORD POLONIUS
[Behind] O, I am slain!
Falls and dies
QUEEN GERTRUDE
O me, what hast thou done?
The queen is in shock and disbelief. She holds a hand to her chest, eyes wide and unable to regulate her breathing.
HAMLET
Nay, I know not:
Is it the king?
Hamlet once again acts cool and collected, as if he had not just murdered a man. His indifference to the murder he’s just committed is terrifying. He is purposefully using the indifferent tone to frighten his mother.
QUEEN GERTRUDE
O, what a rash and bloody deed is this!
HAMLET
A bloody deed! almost as bad, good mother,
As kill a king, and marry with his brother.
He wheels on her, his rage returning once again. He proclaims that the sin he has just committed pales in comparison to what she has done. He is convinced that she took part in his father’s murder.
QUEEN GERTRUDE
As kill a king!
She is thoroughly shocked and on the verge of panicking. She is startled by Hamlet’s accusations and now afraid for her own life.
HAMLET
Ay, lady, 'twas my word.
Hamlet is enjoying switching from anger to indifference.
Lifts up the array and discovers POLONIUS
Thou wretched, rash, intruding fool, farewell!
I took thee for thy better: take thy fortune;
Thou find'st to be too busy is some danger.
Hamlet feels no remorse.
Leave wringing of your hands: peace! sit you down,
And let me wring your heart; for so I shall,
If it be made of penetrable stuff,
If damned custom have not brass'd it so
That it is proof and bulwark against sense.
Though the Queen called Hamlet to extract a confession about his madness, he has turned the tables and wants to “wring her heart” of all its secrets.
QUEEN GERTRUDE
What have I done, that thou darest wag thy tongue
In noise so rude against me?
She is pretending not to be afraid and chastizes Hamlet for speaking so to her.
HAMLET
Such an act
That blurs the grace and blush of modesty,
Calls virtue hypocrite, takes off the rose
From the fair forehead of an innocent love
And sets a blister there, makes marriage-vows
As false as dicers' oaths: O, such a deed
As from the body of contraction plucks
The very soul, and sweet religion makes
A rhapsody of words: heaven's face doth glow:
Yea, this solidity and compound mass,
With tristful visage, as against the doom,
Is thought-sick at the act.
He is fed up with her act of innocence. He believes she has betrayed his real father and intends to fill her with too much guilt to bear.
QUEEN GERTRUDE
Ay me, what act,
That roars so loud, and thunders in the index?
She is trying to outwit him, asking why, if her act were so detectable, could she herself not know it.
HAMLET
Look here, upon this picture, and on this,
The counterfeit presentment of two brothers.
See, what a grace was seated on this brow;
Hyperion's curls; the front of Jove himself;
An eye like Mars, to threaten and command;
A station like the herald Mercury
New-lighted on a heaven-kissing hill;
A combination and a form indeed,
Where every god did seem to set his seal,
To give the world assurance of a man:
This was your husband.
Hamlet lovingly praises everything about his real father, the Queen’s late husband.
Look you now, what follows:
Here is your husband; like a mildew'd ear,
Blasting his wholesome brother. Have you eyes?
Could you on this fair mountain leave to feed,
And batten on this moor? Ha! have you eyes?
You cannot call it love; for at your age
The hey-day in the blood is tame, it's humble,
And waits upon the judgment: and what judgment
Would step from this to this? Sense, sure, you have,
Else could you not have motion; but sure, that sense
Is apoplex'd; for madness would not err,
Nor sense to ecstasy was ne'er so thrall'd
But it reserved some quantity of choice,
To serve in such a difference. What devil was't
That thus hath cozen'd you at hoodman-blind?
Eyes without feeling, feeling without sight,
Ears without hands or eyes, smelling sans all,
Or but a sickly part of one true sense
Could not so mope.
O shame! where is thy blush? Rebellious hell,
If thou canst mutine in a matron's bones,
To flaming youth let virtue be as wax,
And melt in her own fire: proclaim no shame
When the compulsive ardour gives the charge,
Since frost itself as actively doth burn
And reason panders will.
Hamlet wants to fill her with shame. He taunts her for marrying a man that can never compare to his father. He implies that their love is all a sham. Throughout the speech, he sees that he is affecting her deeply, and he is egged on by this.
QUEEN GERTRUDE
O Hamlet, speak no more:
Thou turn'st mine eyes into my very soul;
And there I see such black and grained spots
As will not leave their tinct.
The Queen loses the last of her composure. She admits to the evil of what she has done by marrying Claudius.
HAMLET
Nay, but to live
In the rank sweat of an enseamed bed,
Stew'd in corruption, honeying and making love
Over the nasty sty,--
Hamlet is not satisfied, choosing instead to shame her even further. He takes no pity on her.
QUEEN GERTRUDE
O, speak to me no more;
These words, like daggers, enter in mine ears;
No more, sweet Hamlet!
The Queen has fallen to her knees and is covering her ears with her hands, trying to block out Hamlet’s words.
HAMLET
A murderer and a villain;
A slave that is not twentieth part the tithe
Of your precedent lord; a vice of kings;
A cutpurse of the empire and the rule,
That from a shelf the precious diadem stole,
And put it in his pocket!
QUEEN GERTRUDE
No more!
She cannot take any more of his harsh words. She is too guilty and ashamed at being forced to examine her own soul, and knowing that her son knows and has lost all respect for her because of it.
HAMLET
A king of shreds and patches,--
Enter Ghost
Save me, and hover o'er me with your wings,
You heavenly guards! What would your gracious figure?
Hamlet breaks off midsentence from verbally lashing his mother to speaking to the Ghost.
QUEEN GERTRUDE
Alas, he's mad!
The Queen finally gets a break from the bombardment. She sees nothing. All she knows is that Hamlet suddenly became fascinated with and began talking to something that is not there.
HAMLET
Do you not come your tardy son to chide?
That, lapsed in time and passion, lets go by
The important acting of your dread command? O, say!
Hamlet begs that the Ghost has not come to critisize of punish him for not acting against King Claudius sooner. For the first time since the scene began, Hamlet is not in control of the situation, and this is evident in his facial expression.
Ghost
Do not forget: this visitation
Is but to whet thy almost blunted purpose.
But, look, amazement on thy mother sits:
O, step between her and her fighting soul:
Conceit in weakest bodies strongest works:
Speak to her, Hamlet.
The Ghost has appeared to remind Hamlet of his passion for revenge. He has also come to change Hamlet’s behavior towards his mother.
HAMLET
How is it with you, lady?
QUEEN GERTRUDE
Alas, how is't with you,
That you do bend your eye on vacancy
And with the incorporal air do hold discourse?
Forth at your eyes your spirits wildly peep;
And, as the sleeping soldiers in the alarm,
Your bedded hair, like life in excrements,
Starts up, and stands on end. O gentle son,
Upon the heat and flame of thy distemper
Sprinkle cool patience. Whereon do you look?
She laments the change in Hamlet. He is hardly paying attention to her, though, and she eventually inquires as to what he is so distracted by.
HAMLET
On him, on him! Look you, how pale he glares!
His form and cause conjoin'd, preaching to stones,
Would make them capable. Do not look upon me;
Lest with this piteous action you convert
My stern effects: then what I have to do
Will want true colour; tears perchance for blood.
Hamlet vows again to fulfill the deed that has been asked of him. He bows his head as he says this, showing the Ghost his utmost respect.
QUEEN GERTRUDE
To whom do you speak this?
His mother is confused. She received no respect, but Hamlet is suddenly talking to something she cannot see and showing respect.
HAMLET
Do you see nothing there?
QUEEN GERTRUDE
Nothing at all; yet all that is I see.
The Queen does not believe that there is anything there.
HAMLET
Nor did you nothing hear?
QUEEN GERTRUDE
No, nothing but ourselves.
HAMLET
Why, look you there! look, how it steals away!
My father, in his habit as he lived!
Look, where he goes, even now, out at the portal!
Hamlet continues to praise the Ghost’s every move, hardly paying attention to his mother.
Exit Ghost
QUEEN GERTRUDE
This the very coinage of your brain:
This bodiless creation ecstasy
Is very cunning in.
She begins to accept that he truly is mad, and that his brain is conjuring up images of his late father.
HAMLET
Ecstasy!
My pulse, as yours, doth temperately keep time,
And makes as healthful music: it is not madness
That I have utter'd: bring me to the test,
And I the matter will re-word; which madness
Would gambol from. Mother, for love of grace,
Lay not that mattering unction to your soul,
That not your trespass, but my madness speaks:
It will but skin and film the ulcerous place,
Whilst rank corruption, mining all within,
Infects unseen. Confess yourself to heaven;
Repent what's past; avoid what is to come;
And do not spread the compost on the weeds,
To make them ranker. Forgive me this my virtue;
For in the fatness of these pursy times
Virtue itself of vice must pardon beg,
Yea, curb and woo for leave to do him good.
Hamlet is offended that she believed he was seeing things. He then expresses his want for his mother to come clean with all that she has done.
QUEEN GERTRUDE
O Hamlet, thou hast cleft my heart in twain.
HAMLET
O, throw away the worser part of it,
And live the purer with the other half.
Good night: but go not to mine uncle's bed;
Assume a virtue, if you have it not.
That monster, custom, who all sense doth eat,
Of habits devil, is angel yet in this,
That to the use of actions fair and good
He likewise gives a frock or livery,
That aptly is put on. Refrain to-night,
And that shall lend a kind of easiness
To the next abstinence: the next more easy;
For use almost can change the stamp of nature,
And either [ ] the devil, or throw him out
With wondrous potency.
He advices his mother to stay away from the king and refuse to engage in any more sinful actions with him.
Once more, good night:
And when you are desirous to be bless'd,
I'll blessing beg of you. For this same lord,
Pointing to POLONIUS
I do repent: but heaven hath pleased it so,
To punish me with this and this with me,
That I must be their scourge and minister.
I will bestow him, and will answer well
The death I gave him. So, again, good night.
I must be cruel, only to be kind:
Thus bad begins and worse remains behind.
One word more, good lady.
Hamlet has lost focus on the situation and is babbling out loud. He does not even look at his mother, but instead stares off as if he is deep in thought.
QUEEN GERTRUDE
What shall I do?
HAMLET
Not this, by no means, that I bid you do:
Let the bloat king tempt you again to bed;
Pinch wanton on your cheek; call you his mouse;
And let him, for a pair of reechy kisses,
Or paddling in your neck with his damn'd fingers,
Make you to ravel all this matter out,
That I essentially am not in madness,
But mad in craft. 'Twere good you let him know;
For who, that's but a queen, fair, sober, wise,
Would from a paddock, from a bat, a gib,
Such dear concernings hide? who would do so?
No, in despite of sense and secrecy,
Unpeg the basket on the house's top.
Let the birds fly, and, like the famous ape,
To try conclusions, in the basket creep,
And break your own neck down.
He echoes his want that his mother stay away from the king. Then he defends his madness, saying that everyone has jumped to conclusions. But no one stirred when the Queen married Claudius so close after her husband’s death.
QUEEN GERTRUDE
Be thou assured, if words be made of breath,
And breath of life, I have no life to breathe
What thou hast said to me.
The Queen cannot recover from all that has transpired. She is extremely shaken.
Enter QUEEN GERTRUDE and POLONIUS
LORD POLONIUS
He will come straight. Look you lay home to him:
Tell him his pranks have been too broad to bear with,
And that your grace hath screen'd and stood between
Much heat and him. I'll sconce me even here.
Pray you, be round with him.
Polonius says that Hamlet is on his way to the queen, and that once there, she must confront him about his madness. He says that the Queen should explain to Hamlet that she’s had to defend his madness for too long, which isn’t fair to her. Really though, he doesn’t care so much about her being forced to defend her son as he does about learning the real reason for Hamlet’s madness, and if it is truly out of love for Ophelia.
HAMLET
[Within] Mother, mother, mother!
QUEEN GERTRUDE
I'll warrant you,
Fear me not: withdraw, I hear him coming.
Encouraged by Polonius’s words, she tells him not to doubt her. She is overly confident in her abilities to find out what is truly wrong with her son, both because of her own pride and because of Polonius’s words.
POLONIUS hides behind the arras
Enter HAMLET
HAMLET
Now, mother, what's the matter?
Hamlet is snide, as usual. His tone is meant to offend the Queen.
QUEEN GERTRUDE
Hamlet, thou hast thy father much offended.
Refusing to let his tone shake her, she ignores it and holds her head high, declaring that Hamlet has upset King Claudius with his play modifications.
HAMLET
Mother, you have my father much offended.
Hamlet retorts that the Queen has offended his real father, the murdered king, both by marrying his brother Claudius so soon after his death and by referring to Claudius as Hamlet’s father.
QUEEN GERTRUDE
Come, come, you answer with an idle tongue.
She is still trying to keep her composure. She believes that if she ignores his remarks for long enough, he will eventually realize they are not producing an effect and resign himself to answering her questions.
HAMLET
Go, go, you question with a wicked tongue.
Hamlet knows he is getting to her, though, and continues with his snarky word-play. He implies that her motives for asking about him are not pure.
QUEEN GERTRUDE
Why, how now, Hamlet!
Hamlet’s last comment hit home. Unable to contain her anger and frustration, she shouts at him for his disrespect and insistence on avoiding the conversation.
HAMLET
What's the matter now?
Hamlet plays completely cool, even smiles a little in mock-concern as he inquires about her sudden outburst.
QUEEN GERTRUDE
Have you forgot me?
She is trying to remind Hamlet of the respect he owes her as his mother.
HAMLET
No, by the rood, not so:
You are the queen, your husband's brother's wife;
And--would it were not so!--you are my mother.
Hamlet replies that he knows her, but rather than starting by saying she is his mother, he starts by saying that she married her dead husband’s brother, something he cannot seem to forgive her for. He says the first two lines casually, but when he finally admits that she is his mother, his tone becomes slightly angry.
QUEEN GERTRUDE
Nay, then, I'll set those to you that can speak.
The queen is becoming nervous. Hamlet’s behavior is scaring her; she is no longer confident.
HAMLET
Come, come, and sit you down; you shall not budge;
You go not till I set you up a glass
Where you may see the inmost part of you.
Hamlet’s smile is now sinister as he gestures for her to sit down, but once again, his tone becomes angrier and angrier as he declares that he will put a mirror in front of her so that she may look into her own eyes and see her own wretchedness.
QUEEN GERTRUDE
What wilt thou do? thou wilt not murder me?
Help, help, ho!
The queen has lost all composure and cries out for help.
LORD POLONIUS
[Behind] What, ho! help, help, help!
HAMLET
[Drawing] How now! a rat? Dead, for a ducat, dead!
Makes a pass through the arras
Hamlet, already provoked, becomes enraged at the idea that someone is eavesdropping on him. He does not think twice about killing whoever is listening to their conversation.
LORD POLONIUS
[Behind] O, I am slain!
Falls and dies
QUEEN GERTRUDE
O me, what hast thou done?
The queen is in shock and disbelief. She holds a hand to her chest, eyes wide and unable to regulate her breathing.
HAMLET
Nay, I know not:
Is it the king?
Hamlet once again acts cool and collected, as if he had not just murdered a man. His indifference to the murder he’s just committed is terrifying. He is purposefully using the indifferent tone to frighten his mother.
QUEEN GERTRUDE
O, what a rash and bloody deed is this!
HAMLET
A bloody deed! almost as bad, good mother,
As kill a king, and marry with his brother.
He wheels on her, his rage returning once again. He proclaims that the sin he has just committed pales in comparison to what she has done. He is convinced that she took part in his father’s murder.
QUEEN GERTRUDE
As kill a king!
She is thoroughly shocked and on the verge of panicking. She is startled by Hamlet’s accusations and now afraid for her own life.
HAMLET
Ay, lady, 'twas my word.
Hamlet is enjoying switching from anger to indifference.
Lifts up the array and discovers POLONIUS
Thou wretched, rash, intruding fool, farewell!
I took thee for thy better: take thy fortune;
Thou find'st to be too busy is some danger.
Hamlet feels no remorse.
Leave wringing of your hands: peace! sit you down,
And let me wring your heart; for so I shall,
If it be made of penetrable stuff,
If damned custom have not brass'd it so
That it is proof and bulwark against sense.
Though the Queen called Hamlet to extract a confession about his madness, he has turned the tables and wants to “wring her heart” of all its secrets.
QUEEN GERTRUDE
What have I done, that thou darest wag thy tongue
In noise so rude against me?
She is pretending not to be afraid and chastizes Hamlet for speaking so to her.
HAMLET
Such an act
That blurs the grace and blush of modesty,
Calls virtue hypocrite, takes off the rose
From the fair forehead of an innocent love
And sets a blister there, makes marriage-vows
As false as dicers' oaths: O, such a deed
As from the body of contraction plucks
The very soul, and sweet religion makes
A rhapsody of words: heaven's face doth glow:
Yea, this solidity and compound mass,
With tristful visage, as against the doom,
Is thought-sick at the act.
He is fed up with her act of innocence. He believes she has betrayed his real father and intends to fill her with too much guilt to bear.
QUEEN GERTRUDE
Ay me, what act,
That roars so loud, and thunders in the index?
She is trying to outwit him, asking why, if her act were so detectable, could she herself not know it.
HAMLET
Look here, upon this picture, and on this,
The counterfeit presentment of two brothers.
See, what a grace was seated on this brow;
Hyperion's curls; the front of Jove himself;
An eye like Mars, to threaten and command;
A station like the herald Mercury
New-lighted on a heaven-kissing hill;
A combination and a form indeed,
Where every god did seem to set his seal,
To give the world assurance of a man:
This was your husband.
Hamlet lovingly praises everything about his real father, the Queen’s late husband.
Look you now, what follows:
Here is your husband; like a mildew'd ear,
Blasting his wholesome brother. Have you eyes?
Could you on this fair mountain leave to feed,
And batten on this moor? Ha! have you eyes?
You cannot call it love; for at your age
The hey-day in the blood is tame, it's humble,
And waits upon the judgment: and what judgment
Would step from this to this? Sense, sure, you have,
Else could you not have motion; but sure, that sense
Is apoplex'd; for madness would not err,
Nor sense to ecstasy was ne'er so thrall'd
But it reserved some quantity of choice,
To serve in such a difference. What devil was't
That thus hath cozen'd you at hoodman-blind?
Eyes without feeling, feeling without sight,
Ears without hands or eyes, smelling sans all,
Or but a sickly part of one true sense
Could not so mope.
O shame! where is thy blush? Rebellious hell,
If thou canst mutine in a matron's bones,
To flaming youth let virtue be as wax,
And melt in her own fire: proclaim no shame
When the compulsive ardour gives the charge,
Since frost itself as actively doth burn
And reason panders will.
Hamlet wants to fill her with shame. He taunts her for marrying a man that can never compare to his father. He implies that their love is all a sham. Throughout the speech, he sees that he is affecting her deeply, and he is egged on by this.
QUEEN GERTRUDE
O Hamlet, speak no more:
Thou turn'st mine eyes into my very soul;
And there I see such black and grained spots
As will not leave their tinct.
The Queen loses the last of her composure. She admits to the evil of what she has done by marrying Claudius.
HAMLET
Nay, but to live
In the rank sweat of an enseamed bed,
Stew'd in corruption, honeying and making love
Over the nasty sty,--
Hamlet is not satisfied, choosing instead to shame her even further. He takes no pity on her.
QUEEN GERTRUDE
O, speak to me no more;
These words, like daggers, enter in mine ears;
No more, sweet Hamlet!
The Queen has fallen to her knees and is covering her ears with her hands, trying to block out Hamlet’s words.
HAMLET
A murderer and a villain;
A slave that is not twentieth part the tithe
Of your precedent lord; a vice of kings;
A cutpurse of the empire and the rule,
That from a shelf the precious diadem stole,
And put it in his pocket!
QUEEN GERTRUDE
No more!
She cannot take any more of his harsh words. She is too guilty and ashamed at being forced to examine her own soul, and knowing that her son knows and has lost all respect for her because of it.
HAMLET
A king of shreds and patches,--
Enter Ghost
Save me, and hover o'er me with your wings,
You heavenly guards! What would your gracious figure?
Hamlet breaks off midsentence from verbally lashing his mother to speaking to the Ghost.
QUEEN GERTRUDE
Alas, he's mad!
The Queen finally gets a break from the bombardment. She sees nothing. All she knows is that Hamlet suddenly became fascinated with and began talking to something that is not there.
HAMLET
Do you not come your tardy son to chide?
That, lapsed in time and passion, lets go by
The important acting of your dread command? O, say!
Hamlet begs that the Ghost has not come to critisize of punish him for not acting against King Claudius sooner. For the first time since the scene began, Hamlet is not in control of the situation, and this is evident in his facial expression.
Ghost
Do not forget: this visitation
Is but to whet thy almost blunted purpose.
But, look, amazement on thy mother sits:
O, step between her and her fighting soul:
Conceit in weakest bodies strongest works:
Speak to her, Hamlet.
The Ghost has appeared to remind Hamlet of his passion for revenge. He has also come to change Hamlet’s behavior towards his mother.
HAMLET
How is it with you, lady?
QUEEN GERTRUDE
Alas, how is't with you,
That you do bend your eye on vacancy
And with the incorporal air do hold discourse?
Forth at your eyes your spirits wildly peep;
And, as the sleeping soldiers in the alarm,
Your bedded hair, like life in excrements,
Starts up, and stands on end. O gentle son,
Upon the heat and flame of thy distemper
Sprinkle cool patience. Whereon do you look?
She laments the change in Hamlet. He is hardly paying attention to her, though, and she eventually inquires as to what he is so distracted by.
HAMLET
On him, on him! Look you, how pale he glares!
His form and cause conjoin'd, preaching to stones,
Would make them capable. Do not look upon me;
Lest with this piteous action you convert
My stern effects: then what I have to do
Will want true colour; tears perchance for blood.
Hamlet vows again to fulfill the deed that has been asked of him. He bows his head as he says this, showing the Ghost his utmost respect.
QUEEN GERTRUDE
To whom do you speak this?
His mother is confused. She received no respect, but Hamlet is suddenly talking to something she cannot see and showing respect.
HAMLET
Do you see nothing there?
QUEEN GERTRUDE
Nothing at all; yet all that is I see.
The Queen does not believe that there is anything there.
HAMLET
Nor did you nothing hear?
QUEEN GERTRUDE
No, nothing but ourselves.
HAMLET
Why, look you there! look, how it steals away!
My father, in his habit as he lived!
Look, where he goes, even now, out at the portal!
Hamlet continues to praise the Ghost’s every move, hardly paying attention to his mother.
Exit Ghost
QUEEN GERTRUDE
This the very coinage of your brain:
This bodiless creation ecstasy
Is very cunning in.
She begins to accept that he truly is mad, and that his brain is conjuring up images of his late father.
HAMLET
Ecstasy!
My pulse, as yours, doth temperately keep time,
And makes as healthful music: it is not madness
That I have utter'd: bring me to the test,
And I the matter will re-word; which madness
Would gambol from. Mother, for love of grace,
Lay not that mattering unction to your soul,
That not your trespass, but my madness speaks:
It will but skin and film the ulcerous place,
Whilst rank corruption, mining all within,
Infects unseen. Confess yourself to heaven;
Repent what's past; avoid what is to come;
And do not spread the compost on the weeds,
To make them ranker. Forgive me this my virtue;
For in the fatness of these pursy times
Virtue itself of vice must pardon beg,
Yea, curb and woo for leave to do him good.
Hamlet is offended that she believed he was seeing things. He then expresses his want for his mother to come clean with all that she has done.
QUEEN GERTRUDE
O Hamlet, thou hast cleft my heart in twain.
HAMLET
O, throw away the worser part of it,
And live the purer with the other half.
Good night: but go not to mine uncle's bed;
Assume a virtue, if you have it not.
That monster, custom, who all sense doth eat,
Of habits devil, is angel yet in this,
That to the use of actions fair and good
He likewise gives a frock or livery,
That aptly is put on. Refrain to-night,
And that shall lend a kind of easiness
To the next abstinence: the next more easy;
For use almost can change the stamp of nature,
And either [ ] the devil, or throw him out
With wondrous potency.
He advices his mother to stay away from the king and refuse to engage in any more sinful actions with him.
Once more, good night:
And when you are desirous to be bless'd,
I'll blessing beg of you. For this same lord,
Pointing to POLONIUS
I do repent: but heaven hath pleased it so,
To punish me with this and this with me,
That I must be their scourge and minister.
I will bestow him, and will answer well
The death I gave him. So, again, good night.
I must be cruel, only to be kind:
Thus bad begins and worse remains behind.
One word more, good lady.
Hamlet has lost focus on the situation and is babbling out loud. He does not even look at his mother, but instead stares off as if he is deep in thought.
QUEEN GERTRUDE
What shall I do?
HAMLET
Not this, by no means, that I bid you do:
Let the bloat king tempt you again to bed;
Pinch wanton on your cheek; call you his mouse;
And let him, for a pair of reechy kisses,
Or paddling in your neck with his damn'd fingers,
Make you to ravel all this matter out,
That I essentially am not in madness,
But mad in craft. 'Twere good you let him know;
For who, that's but a queen, fair, sober, wise,
Would from a paddock, from a bat, a gib,
Such dear concernings hide? who would do so?
No, in despite of sense and secrecy,
Unpeg the basket on the house's top.
Let the birds fly, and, like the famous ape,
To try conclusions, in the basket creep,
And break your own neck down.
He echoes his want that his mother stay away from the king. Then he defends his madness, saying that everyone has jumped to conclusions. But no one stirred when the Queen married Claudius so close after her husband’s death.
QUEEN GERTRUDE
Be thou assured, if words be made of breath,
And breath of life, I have no life to breathe
What thou hast said to me.
The Queen cannot recover from all that has transpired. She is extremely shaken.
Friday, February 1, 2008
The Need for Attention
In the play Antigone, Sophocles uses overly dramatic characters to take the play from a small rebellion against authority to a tragic ending where only one miserable character remains alive. The entirety of the play could be summed up in the last four lines, when the Choragos says, “There is no happiness where there is no wisdom; / No wisdom but in submission to the gods. / Big words are always punished, / And proud men in old age learn to be wise” (139-42). Many or all of the deaths, however, could have been avoided if only certain characters had not been so blinded by their pride. However, the character that struck me as the most self-centered, the one who could have avoided a drastic amount of damage had she only been less intent to flaunt her good deeds, was Antigone.
Antigone starts the show as a martyr. Though her motives, her want to free her dead brother’s soul, are noble, her manner of doing so makes her seem selfish and in need of attention. In the opening scene, she asks her little sister Ismene to help her bury their dead brother, Polyneices. When her sister expresses her fear of breaking Creon’s law to do so, Antigone responds by viciously attacking her sister, saying, “You may do ask you like, / Since apparently the laws of the gods mean nothing to you” (60-1). According to Christianity, the greatest deed is one that goes unnoticed and is not bragged about by the doer. Right from the start, Antigone flaunts her will to bury her brother and risk execution, even telling her sister, “O tell it! Tell everyone! / Think how they’ll hate you when it all comes out” (69-70). Rather than acting out of pure love, she wants the world to know how courageous she has been for the sake of her brother. After she has been caught and sentenced to death, she still brags about what she has done for her brother, refusing to let Ismene accept any of the guilt. She seems less interested in the idea of commemorating her brother and more in love with the idea of death and pity. When confronting Creon and her sister, she repeatedly says phrases such as, “I belong to Death” (147), as if she needs to remind everyone how brave she has been to bury her brother and face her own premature death. When being led to her cave to die in isolation, she tells those around her, “Look upon me, friends, and pity me / Turning back at the night’s edge to say / Good-by to the sun that shines for me no longer; / Now sleepy Death / Summons me down to Acheron, that cold shore: / There is no bridesong there, nor any music” (5-10). While we can respect Antigone for her desire to honor her brother’s memory and not watch his corpse be devoured by scavenging animals, her need for sympathy, honor, and pretty much any form of attention turns her into a very unlikable character. Had she been more humble, she might have given the readers more of the feeling that she was burying her brother for his sake and not her own.
Antigone starts the show as a martyr. Though her motives, her want to free her dead brother’s soul, are noble, her manner of doing so makes her seem selfish and in need of attention. In the opening scene, she asks her little sister Ismene to help her bury their dead brother, Polyneices. When her sister expresses her fear of breaking Creon’s law to do so, Antigone responds by viciously attacking her sister, saying, “You may do ask you like, / Since apparently the laws of the gods mean nothing to you” (60-1). According to Christianity, the greatest deed is one that goes unnoticed and is not bragged about by the doer. Right from the start, Antigone flaunts her will to bury her brother and risk execution, even telling her sister, “O tell it! Tell everyone! / Think how they’ll hate you when it all comes out” (69-70). Rather than acting out of pure love, she wants the world to know how courageous she has been for the sake of her brother. After she has been caught and sentenced to death, she still brags about what she has done for her brother, refusing to let Ismene accept any of the guilt. She seems less interested in the idea of commemorating her brother and more in love with the idea of death and pity. When confronting Creon and her sister, she repeatedly says phrases such as, “I belong to Death” (147), as if she needs to remind everyone how brave she has been to bury her brother and face her own premature death. When being led to her cave to die in isolation, she tells those around her, “Look upon me, friends, and pity me / Turning back at the night’s edge to say / Good-by to the sun that shines for me no longer; / Now sleepy Death / Summons me down to Acheron, that cold shore: / There is no bridesong there, nor any music” (5-10). While we can respect Antigone for her desire to honor her brother’s memory and not watch his corpse be devoured by scavenging animals, her need for sympathy, honor, and pretty much any form of attention turns her into a very unlikable character. Had she been more humble, she might have given the readers more of the feeling that she was burying her brother for his sake and not her own.
Monday, January 28, 2008
The Dreaming Tree
Standing here,
The old man said to me,
"Long before these crowded streets,
Here stood my dreaming tree."
Below it he would sit,
For hours at a time.
Now progress takes away,
What forever took to find.
And now he's falling hard,
He feels the falling dark.
How he longs to be,
Beneath his dreaming tree.
Conquered fear to climb,
A moment froze in time,
When the girl who first he kissed,
Promised him she'd be his.
Remembered mother's words,
There beneath the tree,
"No matter what the world
You'll always be my baby."
Mommy, come quick!
The dreaming tree has died.
The air is growing thick,
A fear he cannot hide,
The dreaming tree has died.
Oh, have you no pity?
This thing I do,
I do not deny it.
All through this smile.
As crooked as danger,
I do not deny,
I know in my mind,
I would leave you now.
If I had the strength to,
I would leave you up,
To your own devices,
Will you not talk?
Can you take pity?
I don't ask much,
But won't you speak, please?
From the start,
She knew she had it made,
Easy up 'til then,
For sure she'd make the grade.
Adorers came in hordes,
To lay down in her wake,
Gave it all she had,
But treasures slowly fade.
Now she's falling hard,
Feels the fall of dark,
How did this fall apart?
She drinks to fill it up.
A smile of sweetest flowers,
Wilted so and soured.
Black tears stain the cheeks,
That once were so admired.
She thinks when she was small,
There on her father's knee,
How he had promised her,
"You'll always be my baby."
Daddy, come quick!
The dreaming tree has died.
I can't find my way home,
There is no place to hide
The dreaming tree has died.
Oh, if I had the strength to,
I would leave you up,
To your own devices,
Will you not talk?
Can you take pity?
I don't ask much.
But won't you speak, please?
Take me back,
Save me, please.
-"Dreaming Tree" by Dave Matthews Band
A link to open the song in the itunes music store:
Thursday, January 17, 2008
Where's the Self-Worth?
By the time Gregor’s metamorphosis takes place, he has completely forgotten how to live his life for himself. Thoughts about how to take care of his family litter the short story, while any thoughts about what he truly wants are rare and often repressed. Even as a human, Gregor had become insect-like in his need to please his family; as an insect, these same thoughts dominate his actions and eventually take his life.
Oddly, when Gregor awakens one morning to discover that he has become a giant bug, his first thoughts are about how he will continue to support his family rather than how such a strange event came to take place. He seems hardly confused; he is more preoccupied with finding a way to get out of bed so that he can catch the train to work. He feels a strange responsibility for his family. Gregor clearly believes that they are there to support him in return, as is evident when he finally gets out of bed and is trying to unlock the door, “And, imagining that they were all intently following his efforts, he grimly clamped his jaws on the key with all his might” (24). Unfortunately, he has placed too much faith in his family. Rather than supporting him, they all flee at the mere sight of him, then force him brutally back into his room; they have no compassion for the fact that their son has just awoken to find that he is no longer human. Still, Gregor seems unaware of the harsh treatment. When he discovers that his sister has left him a bowl of milk, but that it is no longer to his taste, he wonders, “would she noticed that he’d let the milk sit there…? If she wasn’t going to do it on her own, he’d sooner starve than call her attention to it” (38). For some reason, Gregor has no sympathy for himself, and he doesn’t seem to expect any from his family either.
Gregor’s sense of responsibility for the well being of his family seems a likely culprit for his lack of self-concern. Throughout the story, we learn that Gregor’s father owes a large debt to a company because his own had failed, and yet Gregor is the only one working to pay off said debt. As he is lying in bed, undaunted by his new body, he has a brief moment of his own emotion when he says, “If I didn’t have to curb my tongue because of my parents, I’d have…. Gone up to the director and told him from the bottom of my heart exactly what I thought. That would have knocked him from his desk!” (5). However, only a few moments later, he thoughtlessly puts his lazy family before his own dreams and feelings and thinks, “Well, there’s hope yet; as soon as I’ve saved enough money to pay back what my parents owe him—that should take another five or six years—I’ll go do it for sure” (5). Gregor is so used to putting himself second, we can only imagine that his family sees him the same way. Even as an insect, Gregor takes special care to hide himself under a couch, sometimes with a sheet over him, so that his family will not have to bear the sight of him. They care nothing for his feelings, and eventually, they even begin to forget about him. Perhaps, as time goes by that Gregor remains a bug, they associate it less and less with him because they never really took the time to know him at all. By the end, despite everything Gregor has selflessly done for his family, his sister declares, “You just have to get rid of the idea that this is Gregor…. If it were, he would’ve realized a long time ago that it’s impossible for human beings to live wit ha creature like that, and he would’ve left on his own accord” (85). She doesn’t pause for a moment to think that after such a traumatic transformation, Gregor might desperately need the love and support of his family. Instead, feeling useless and unwanted, Gregor retreats to his room and wills himself to die before morning. (703)
Oddly, when Gregor awakens one morning to discover that he has become a giant bug, his first thoughts are about how he will continue to support his family rather than how such a strange event came to take place. He seems hardly confused; he is more preoccupied with finding a way to get out of bed so that he can catch the train to work. He feels a strange responsibility for his family. Gregor clearly believes that they are there to support him in return, as is evident when he finally gets out of bed and is trying to unlock the door, “And, imagining that they were all intently following his efforts, he grimly clamped his jaws on the key with all his might” (24). Unfortunately, he has placed too much faith in his family. Rather than supporting him, they all flee at the mere sight of him, then force him brutally back into his room; they have no compassion for the fact that their son has just awoken to find that he is no longer human. Still, Gregor seems unaware of the harsh treatment. When he discovers that his sister has left him a bowl of milk, but that it is no longer to his taste, he wonders, “would she noticed that he’d let the milk sit there…? If she wasn’t going to do it on her own, he’d sooner starve than call her attention to it” (38). For some reason, Gregor has no sympathy for himself, and he doesn’t seem to expect any from his family either.
Gregor’s sense of responsibility for the well being of his family seems a likely culprit for his lack of self-concern. Throughout the story, we learn that Gregor’s father owes a large debt to a company because his own had failed, and yet Gregor is the only one working to pay off said debt. As he is lying in bed, undaunted by his new body, he has a brief moment of his own emotion when he says, “If I didn’t have to curb my tongue because of my parents, I’d have…. Gone up to the director and told him from the bottom of my heart exactly what I thought. That would have knocked him from his desk!” (5). However, only a few moments later, he thoughtlessly puts his lazy family before his own dreams and feelings and thinks, “Well, there’s hope yet; as soon as I’ve saved enough money to pay back what my parents owe him—that should take another five or six years—I’ll go do it for sure” (5). Gregor is so used to putting himself second, we can only imagine that his family sees him the same way. Even as an insect, Gregor takes special care to hide himself under a couch, sometimes with a sheet over him, so that his family will not have to bear the sight of him. They care nothing for his feelings, and eventually, they even begin to forget about him. Perhaps, as time goes by that Gregor remains a bug, they associate it less and less with him because they never really took the time to know him at all. By the end, despite everything Gregor has selflessly done for his family, his sister declares, “You just have to get rid of the idea that this is Gregor…. If it were, he would’ve realized a long time ago that it’s impossible for human beings to live wit ha creature like that, and he would’ve left on his own accord” (85). She doesn’t pause for a moment to think that after such a traumatic transformation, Gregor might desperately need the love and support of his family. Instead, feeling useless and unwanted, Gregor retreats to his room and wills himself to die before morning. (703)
Sunday, January 13, 2008
Fatal Flaw
Ivan Ilych spends his dying moments regretting the life he has lived. Though he lived his life in the pursuit of what he thought would make him happy, the lack of passion with which he did so proved to be his fatal flaw. Though the way he conducted his life adhered to the social norm, Ivan Ilych comes to realize in his last days how shallow and meaningless such a life really is.
From the very start, we as readers know that there is nothing special about Ivan Ilych’s life. The author, Leo Tolstoy, introduces the main character’s life story by saying that it, “had been most simple and most ordinary and therefore most terrible” (55). His childhood is only grazed over, and the focus is placed instead on how quickly he tries to become an adult. Oddly enough, we learn about Ivan Ilych’s death in the first chapter, but we hear very little about his childhood until the second-to-last chapter. Tolstoy initially introduces Ivan’s youth by saying, “all the enthusiasms of childhood and youth passed without leaving much trace on him” (58), but when Ivan reflects on his life, he thinks of his childhood as the “one bright spot there at the back, at the beginning of life, and afterwards, all becomes blacker and blacker” (312). Unfortunately, the moment he graduates from the School of Law, he forgets all about what he will one day realize was his “bright spot” and sets out to become a person of high station. Ironically, in the midst of his preparations—such as ordering clothes from the “fashionable tailor” (60)—he places a medallion on his watch-chain that reads in Latin “Think of the end (of your life).” What would have been good advice is only a fashion statement to Ivan Ilych, however, and he sets off to make his career.
For the rest of his life, the main character causes his own misery. He is a shallow and passionless man, obsessed with work and what is socially accepted. For example, the only reasons he marries Praskovya Fedorovna is because “it was considered the right thing by the most highly placed of his associates”(70) and because “when the girl fell in love with him he said to himself: “Really, why shouldn’t I marry?””(69). As soon as his married life becomes more complicated and doesn’t fit into his easygoing lifestyle, he chooses to avoid it by engrossing himself in work rather than working out problems with his wife. However, there is reason to believe Ivan Ilych has found his match: his shallow behavior towards her during their early marriage is paralleled by her shallow behavior towards him while he is dying. The author conveys Ivan’s detached behavior when he says, “…and with the real and imaginary illnesses of mother and child, in which Ivan Ilych’s sympathy was demanded but about which he understood nothing, the need of securing for himself an existence outside his family life became still more imperative”(75). When Ivan lies dying, however, he longs, “for someone to pity him as a sick child his pitied. He longed to be petted and comforted” (218). Perhaps, if he had attended to Praskovya Fedorovna with sympathy and love while she was ill, she would have shown him the same care in his dying days. The saddest part of the story is the fact that Ivan Ilych finally realizes, “Maybe I did not live as I ought to have done” (304), but by that time, it is too late to change his life. He cannot go back and create closer personal relationships with his family and friends, rather than surrounding himself in nothing but work and games of bridge. Perhaps he could have befriend people not only of high stations; realized that his wife “expected him to devote his whole attention to her”(72) in early years of their marriage because she wanted a close relationship with him; or even just dwelt a little bit longer in his childhood. Unfortunately, it is only with his dying breaths that Ivan Ilych apologizes to his wife and son, knowing that he had lost the opportunity to lead a meaningful life. (692)
From the very start, we as readers know that there is nothing special about Ivan Ilych’s life. The author, Leo Tolstoy, introduces the main character’s life story by saying that it, “had been most simple and most ordinary and therefore most terrible” (55). His childhood is only grazed over, and the focus is placed instead on how quickly he tries to become an adult. Oddly enough, we learn about Ivan Ilych’s death in the first chapter, but we hear very little about his childhood until the second-to-last chapter. Tolstoy initially introduces Ivan’s youth by saying, “all the enthusiasms of childhood and youth passed without leaving much trace on him” (58), but when Ivan reflects on his life, he thinks of his childhood as the “one bright spot there at the back, at the beginning of life, and afterwards, all becomes blacker and blacker” (312). Unfortunately, the moment he graduates from the School of Law, he forgets all about what he will one day realize was his “bright spot” and sets out to become a person of high station. Ironically, in the midst of his preparations—such as ordering clothes from the “fashionable tailor” (60)—he places a medallion on his watch-chain that reads in Latin “Think of the end (of your life).” What would have been good advice is only a fashion statement to Ivan Ilych, however, and he sets off to make his career.
For the rest of his life, the main character causes his own misery. He is a shallow and passionless man, obsessed with work and what is socially accepted. For example, the only reasons he marries Praskovya Fedorovna is because “it was considered the right thing by the most highly placed of his associates”(70) and because “when the girl fell in love with him he said to himself: “Really, why shouldn’t I marry?””(69). As soon as his married life becomes more complicated and doesn’t fit into his easygoing lifestyle, he chooses to avoid it by engrossing himself in work rather than working out problems with his wife. However, there is reason to believe Ivan Ilych has found his match: his shallow behavior towards her during their early marriage is paralleled by her shallow behavior towards him while he is dying. The author conveys Ivan’s detached behavior when he says, “…and with the real and imaginary illnesses of mother and child, in which Ivan Ilych’s sympathy was demanded but about which he understood nothing, the need of securing for himself an existence outside his family life became still more imperative”(75). When Ivan lies dying, however, he longs, “for someone to pity him as a sick child his pitied. He longed to be petted and comforted” (218). Perhaps, if he had attended to Praskovya Fedorovna with sympathy and love while she was ill, she would have shown him the same care in his dying days. The saddest part of the story is the fact that Ivan Ilych finally realizes, “Maybe I did not live as I ought to have done” (304), but by that time, it is too late to change his life. He cannot go back and create closer personal relationships with his family and friends, rather than surrounding himself in nothing but work and games of bridge. Perhaps he could have befriend people not only of high stations; realized that his wife “expected him to devote his whole attention to her”(72) in early years of their marriage because she wanted a close relationship with him; or even just dwelt a little bit longer in his childhood. Unfortunately, it is only with his dying breaths that Ivan Ilych apologizes to his wife and son, knowing that he had lost the opportunity to lead a meaningful life. (692)
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