Oh God. That's all I can say at this point. I finished the first nine chapters, a short, but tightly packed section, of Ishmael Reed's Mumbo Jumbo today. I could tell from the beginning that this book was going to be a trip.
It is basically the definition of postmodernist. Anything that you could list as being something postmodernist is in this book. It is a literary collage. Instead of writing out numbers like "one," reed puts the actual number. Even when it's not in reference to a numeric value. Even the pronoun "one" is abbreviated as "1". There are random pictures and illustrations throughout the chapters, and the first chapter comes before the title page. As far as novel-writing conventions go, this book follows almost none of them.
However, I kind of like this. It's not the conscious decision to disregard conventions that I like, it's the result of that disregard. The text reminds me of prose poetry in the way that it has a strong flow and isn't necessarily grammatically correct. The way that the words sound is more important than keeping to a form, and it ends up sounding, at least to me, like a stream of consciousness.
I really like reading this style, and I especially like writing in it. I like how you can randomly add short sentences to mimic the style of your thoughts, and just write for the emotion and the meaning, not necessarily for comprehension, or grammar. This is a little surprising, even to myself, that I would like this kind of writing, because I'm usually a stickler for grammar and actually really love grammar, but somehow the prose poetry / stream of consciousness style really works for me.
So, I think I'm going to really like this book. Really. Because it's neat. Cool. Crazy and confusing but that's okay because it evokes the emotion that it wants to and doesn't care if you understand what's going on. It's going to pack an ocean-load of information into one paragraph and if you get it cool if you don't then you just have to catch up. Catch up to the scene that's crashing down around itself in descriptions of the characters and the chaos of the world I'm not entirely sure is our own. But it's okay. At least it still goes from left to right across the page.
Tuesday, January 31, 2012
Tuesday, January 24, 2012
Younger Brother
So, as I was writing my last post, I found myself wanting to talk a bit about Younger Brother's situation. In class today, we considered YB's use of blackface, and whether or not that was a wise thing to do, and what it meant. Many people thought younger brother was "dumb," which I disagreed with. I really think he found a cause he could identify with, and was fully engaged and devoted to it.
Being of that aimless adolescent age myself, I can relate to YB's struggle to find a purpose. While I love painting my nails every other night while watching Friday Night Lights (the tv show) on my computer, that's probably not the most productive thing I could be doing, nor the most important. So, I get where YB is coming from. He doesn't get his family; as Mr. Mitchell has brought up on numerous occasions, he literally runs from the room feeling like he's going to suffocate if he has to listen to Father read from the paper once more. YB needs something to do, but not just a distraction. He needs to believe in something, and I truly think he finds something to believe in in Coalhouse's situation.
One distinction I think is important to make is that he doesn't really go looking for a cause to immerse himself in. That, I think, would constitute a distraction. What happens is that Coalhouse's situation so enrages him that he literally has no other choice but to do everything in his power to help him. People's comments today about the fact that he forgot the nice, eloquent, principled speech he was going to make, and only said, "I know how to blow things up," were a little frustrating to me because the comments indicated that the blowing things up was all that was important to YB, and that he had abandoned this higher moral ground in favor of a more rash, seemingly testosterone-driven approach. I don't think this was the case at all. I think he planned this speech because he felt highly principled about the situation, and still does throughout the entire playout of the situation. I think he just got nervous when he was confronted with Coalhouse, a man he never really talked to, but has come to admire and respect greatly, and who he wants to help. It's this nervousness that causes him to say "I know how to blow things up."
The fact that he's willing to abandon his privilege, which is somewhat cliched and, some might say, "poser-ish," I think it's actually a really big move, and I think YB does it because he genuinely believes that this is a cause worth fighting, and dying, for. (And after having used that phrase several times in the post, I now have "A Girl Worth Fighting For" from Mulan stuck in my head...) Anyway, Younger Brother is not just a poser, and however cliched he seems to us, he knows he's doing what's right and that he's fighting for what he believes in.
Being of that aimless adolescent age myself, I can relate to YB's struggle to find a purpose. While I love painting my nails every other night while watching Friday Night Lights (the tv show) on my computer, that's probably not the most productive thing I could be doing, nor the most important. So, I get where YB is coming from. He doesn't get his family; as Mr. Mitchell has brought up on numerous occasions, he literally runs from the room feeling like he's going to suffocate if he has to listen to Father read from the paper once more. YB needs something to do, but not just a distraction. He needs to believe in something, and I truly think he finds something to believe in in Coalhouse's situation.
One distinction I think is important to make is that he doesn't really go looking for a cause to immerse himself in. That, I think, would constitute a distraction. What happens is that Coalhouse's situation so enrages him that he literally has no other choice but to do everything in his power to help him. People's comments today about the fact that he forgot the nice, eloquent, principled speech he was going to make, and only said, "I know how to blow things up," were a little frustrating to me because the comments indicated that the blowing things up was all that was important to YB, and that he had abandoned this higher moral ground in favor of a more rash, seemingly testosterone-driven approach. I don't think this was the case at all. I think he planned this speech because he felt highly principled about the situation, and still does throughout the entire playout of the situation. I think he just got nervous when he was confronted with Coalhouse, a man he never really talked to, but has come to admire and respect greatly, and who he wants to help. It's this nervousness that causes him to say "I know how to blow things up."
The fact that he's willing to abandon his privilege, which is somewhat cliched and, some might say, "poser-ish," I think it's actually a really big move, and I think YB does it because he genuinely believes that this is a cause worth fighting, and dying, for. (And after having used that phrase several times in the post, I now have "A Girl Worth Fighting For" from Mulan stuck in my head...) Anyway, Younger Brother is not just a poser, and however cliched he seems to us, he knows he's doing what's right and that he's fighting for what he believes in.
Observations
Lately I haven't had the most inspiring ideas for blog posts... Actually, make that *any* ideas for blog posts. So, as I read the last two assignments, I made a few notes in my book about things that stuck out to me. That will have to do until I start getting good ideas again. :)
One of the first things I made note of was on page 275, during the scene in which Coalhouse occupies Morgan's library. The DA is on the phone with Coalhouse as Coalhouse is issuing his demands, and what I noticed was about halfway through the main paragraph on that page is that the DA gives Coalhouse the first sound advice that he's been given during this situation. No one actually stops to think about what Coalhouse is feeling or tries to speak rationally to him. They either fully sympathize with him and join his ranks as Younger Brother does, or they are completely against him. The DA, however, upon hearing Coalhouse's wish to have Conklin turned over "to [his] justice," says, "you know that I as an officer of the court could never give over to you for sentencing outside the law a man who has not had due process. That puts me in an untenable position." I really appreciated this conversation because, really, Coalhouse needs to get that fact through his mind. There is no way that they're just going to let him have Conklin, and I feel like the sooner he realizes that, the sooner they can come to a realistic compromise. I thought it was nice that, instead of saying, No of course I can't do that; are you crazy?? The DA actually talks to him like an adult and says that really, he can't do what Coalhouse is asking.
My second observation is unrelated and on page 277. This was just a small thing, but I thought it was very striking. At the beginning of the first full paragraph, Emma Goldman is being taken off to jail, precautionarily, and Doctorow continues to say, "Goldman did not know of course that one of the Coalhouse band was the young man she had pitied as the bourgeois lover of an infamous whore." This sentence sort of runs on a bit, and holds a lot of information, touching on many subjects and people: Goldman, Coalhouse, Evelyn, bourgeois-ness, etc. I think this sentence is really representative of Ragtime as a whole, in a post-modernist sense; the book is really a mash-up of all of these topics, concepts, people, and events, thrown together to create a fictional story. This sentence captures the haphazardness of the style, and I thought it was amusing to see not exactly a summary, but a snapshot of the book in this one sentence.
Third and finally, on page 287, when father has been brought into the negotiations with Coalhouse and his men, and father realizes that "the situations was ready to be negotiated." Doctorow says, "It was father's opinion, furthermore, that since Sarah's death Coalhouse Walker's most fervent wish was to die." This immediately reminded me of Houdini's attraction to more and more dangerous illusions and situations to escape from. The narrator, in that case, attributes this to a subconscious wish to die, after his mother has died. I thought it interesting that this thought-pattern comes up twice in this book, once fictionally, and once "historically-fictionally." Although, it's interesting to note that in each case, this "wish" for death cause each man to do amazing (not necessarily in a good way) things, because at this point, what have they to fear? I think this ties in really well to Younger Brother's narrative: wanting to find a cause worth dying for. While never explicitly said, I think that's definitely Younger Brother's story.
Anyway, those were my observations!
One of the first things I made note of was on page 275, during the scene in which Coalhouse occupies Morgan's library. The DA is on the phone with Coalhouse as Coalhouse is issuing his demands, and what I noticed was about halfway through the main paragraph on that page is that the DA gives Coalhouse the first sound advice that he's been given during this situation. No one actually stops to think about what Coalhouse is feeling or tries to speak rationally to him. They either fully sympathize with him and join his ranks as Younger Brother does, or they are completely against him. The DA, however, upon hearing Coalhouse's wish to have Conklin turned over "to [his] justice," says, "you know that I as an officer of the court could never give over to you for sentencing outside the law a man who has not had due process. That puts me in an untenable position." I really appreciated this conversation because, really, Coalhouse needs to get that fact through his mind. There is no way that they're just going to let him have Conklin, and I feel like the sooner he realizes that, the sooner they can come to a realistic compromise. I thought it was nice that, instead of saying, No of course I can't do that; are you crazy?? The DA actually talks to him like an adult and says that really, he can't do what Coalhouse is asking.
My second observation is unrelated and on page 277. This was just a small thing, but I thought it was very striking. At the beginning of the first full paragraph, Emma Goldman is being taken off to jail, precautionarily, and Doctorow continues to say, "Goldman did not know of course that one of the Coalhouse band was the young man she had pitied as the bourgeois lover of an infamous whore." This sentence sort of runs on a bit, and holds a lot of information, touching on many subjects and people: Goldman, Coalhouse, Evelyn, bourgeois-ness, etc. I think this sentence is really representative of Ragtime as a whole, in a post-modernist sense; the book is really a mash-up of all of these topics, concepts, people, and events, thrown together to create a fictional story. This sentence captures the haphazardness of the style, and I thought it was amusing to see not exactly a summary, but a snapshot of the book in this one sentence.
Third and finally, on page 287, when father has been brought into the negotiations with Coalhouse and his men, and father realizes that "the situations was ready to be negotiated." Doctorow says, "It was father's opinion, furthermore, that since Sarah's death Coalhouse Walker's most fervent wish was to die." This immediately reminded me of Houdini's attraction to more and more dangerous illusions and situations to escape from. The narrator, in that case, attributes this to a subconscious wish to die, after his mother has died. I thought it interesting that this thought-pattern comes up twice in this book, once fictionally, and once "historically-fictionally." Although, it's interesting to note that in each case, this "wish" for death cause each man to do amazing (not necessarily in a good way) things, because at this point, what have they to fear? I think this ties in really well to Younger Brother's narrative: wanting to find a cause worth dying for. While never explicitly said, I think that's definitely Younger Brother's story.
Anyway, those were my observations!
Saturday, January 14, 2012
randomm..?
That title isn't actually very helpful, given how regularly Ragtime is random. Random made-up people meet random historical characters and they get into super random situations. I mean the whole Mother's Younger Brother in the closet scene, that is random. But some more random things happened in the latest reading assignment, ending with Chapter 21.
The first thing was that Henry Ford meets Pierpont Morgan. They discuss all of the things that Morgan has spend his time and money learning, and my reading of it was that Ford was very confused the whole time. That is until the end, when he speaks up and tells Morgan what about reincarnation, and how everything that he wants to know can be found in a book Ford read when he was a boy. I really wonder at Doctorow's intentions behind having these two characters meet. His narrative style is so ambiguous that I can't tell if he is trying to undermine Morgan by showing Ford to know everything, or if he's trying to make Ford look stupid by thinking that he knows everything.
The next random event is that Sarah, the black woman who Mother took into the house with her child, has a suitor. We barely even know this girl, and it seems to me that we learn much more about her suitor, Coalhouse Walker Jr., than we learn about her. Eventually they get engaged. This was so sudden to me, but with Doctorow, I feel like all you can do is accept what he tells you and move on to the next chapter. I think Doctorow does a good job of showing the views towards African Americans at that time through Father, because the whole time they are getting to know Coalhouse, the thoughts running through Father's mind are borderline (if not out and out) racist. Mother is more progressive, however, and encourages the relationship. We do learn a lot about Coalhouse, but by the end of the chapter, we still don't know how they met, and it is never explicitly said that Coalhouse is the father of the baby. I'm not sure if they'll show up again, but I kind of want to know the backstory...
So, these two random happenings fit in well with all of the other random events in the book. Oh E. L. Doctorow, why do you choose to confuse us so.
The first thing was that Henry Ford meets Pierpont Morgan. They discuss all of the things that Morgan has spend his time and money learning, and my reading of it was that Ford was very confused the whole time. That is until the end, when he speaks up and tells Morgan what about reincarnation, and how everything that he wants to know can be found in a book Ford read when he was a boy. I really wonder at Doctorow's intentions behind having these two characters meet. His narrative style is so ambiguous that I can't tell if he is trying to undermine Morgan by showing Ford to know everything, or if he's trying to make Ford look stupid by thinking that he knows everything.
The next random event is that Sarah, the black woman who Mother took into the house with her child, has a suitor. We barely even know this girl, and it seems to me that we learn much more about her suitor, Coalhouse Walker Jr., than we learn about her. Eventually they get engaged. This was so sudden to me, but with Doctorow, I feel like all you can do is accept what he tells you and move on to the next chapter. I think Doctorow does a good job of showing the views towards African Americans at that time through Father, because the whole time they are getting to know Coalhouse, the thoughts running through Father's mind are borderline (if not out and out) racist. Mother is more progressive, however, and encourages the relationship. We do learn a lot about Coalhouse, but by the end of the chapter, we still don't know how they met, and it is never explicitly said that Coalhouse is the father of the baby. I'm not sure if they'll show up again, but I kind of want to know the backstory...
So, these two random happenings fit in well with all of the other random events in the book. Oh E. L. Doctorow, why do you choose to confuse us so.
Monday, January 9, 2012
Consciously historical.
In the seven chapters of E. L. Doctorow's Ragtime that we've read so far, I can't help but notice that it is different from a normal historical novel. This difference was brought up in class today, and I observed it more and more in tonight's reading.
In other historical fiction, the author attempts to put you directly into the time period, as if you were just another made-up character. In historical non-fiction, the author attempts to inform you about a time period and give you all the facts. What Doctorow is writing seems to be a combination: an attempt to inform you about a time period and give you all the facts about made-up characters. It's kind of unsettling because it's written in third person, and the distance from, yet insight into, the thoughts of the characters that the narrator has is little bit frustrating. We don't know what relation the narrator has to any of the characters, but we know that he knows everything. But what he knows is happening in the early 1900s, even though he is writing in the 1970s. He's trying to put us in the setting, but he knows he's trying to put us in the setting. Yeah. Exactly. Confusing right?
I'm not sure if I like this self-conscious attempt at a historical novel. I enjoy the voice and I'm really interested in the story and want to find out what happens next, but at the same time, I wish he would either play along with the game he got us into, this setting a scene and trying to transport us there, or not. Either delve whole-heartedly into the novel and make us feel like we're there, or write us a non-fiction book about New York in the 1900s. The third person narration and the matter-of-fact style is more suited for such a non-fiction book, so I think he should pick a style and stick with it.
While I don't like the narration set-up, I do like Doctorow's writing style. His short, comma-less sentences remind me of Hemingway, which makes me grin a little bit. This sort of neutral, straight to the point writing leaves you to fully engage with the story the writer is telling while still appreciating the simple, good writing.
One last thing that I noticed after these first two reading assignments was that all of the individual story threads are slowly being connected together; how the family of Mameh and Tateh and the little girl were brought in at the beginning, and later Evelyn met them and begins to help them out, and how Freud sees Evelyn's portrait being cut, and later how Evelyn notices her "secret admirer" which is, of course, "Mother's Younger Brother." I love it when there are multiple threads in a novel and they all combine; it's like life: one person could know this person who saw that other person at the same time they were on their way to see another person. I think it's really neat, and I enjoy that Doctorow decided to use that kind of storytelling technique.
In other historical fiction, the author attempts to put you directly into the time period, as if you were just another made-up character. In historical non-fiction, the author attempts to inform you about a time period and give you all the facts. What Doctorow is writing seems to be a combination: an attempt to inform you about a time period and give you all the facts about made-up characters. It's kind of unsettling because it's written in third person, and the distance from, yet insight into, the thoughts of the characters that the narrator has is little bit frustrating. We don't know what relation the narrator has to any of the characters, but we know that he knows everything. But what he knows is happening in the early 1900s, even though he is writing in the 1970s. He's trying to put us in the setting, but he knows he's trying to put us in the setting. Yeah. Exactly. Confusing right?
I'm not sure if I like this self-conscious attempt at a historical novel. I enjoy the voice and I'm really interested in the story and want to find out what happens next, but at the same time, I wish he would either play along with the game he got us into, this setting a scene and trying to transport us there, or not. Either delve whole-heartedly into the novel and make us feel like we're there, or write us a non-fiction book about New York in the 1900s. The third person narration and the matter-of-fact style is more suited for such a non-fiction book, so I think he should pick a style and stick with it.
While I don't like the narration set-up, I do like Doctorow's writing style. His short, comma-less sentences remind me of Hemingway, which makes me grin a little bit. This sort of neutral, straight to the point writing leaves you to fully engage with the story the writer is telling while still appreciating the simple, good writing.
One last thing that I noticed after these first two reading assignments was that all of the individual story threads are slowly being connected together; how the family of Mameh and Tateh and the little girl were brought in at the beginning, and later Evelyn met them and begins to help them out, and how Freud sees Evelyn's portrait being cut, and later how Evelyn notices her "secret admirer" which is, of course, "Mother's Younger Brother." I love it when there are multiple threads in a novel and they all combine; it's like life: one person could know this person who saw that other person at the same time they were on their way to see another person. I think it's really neat, and I enjoy that Doctorow decided to use that kind of storytelling technique.
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