Hair Hair Hair

I just recently wrote a critical response paper on a chapter in Sag Harbor, more specifically the chapter titled "To Prevent Flare Ups." Right at the beginning of this chapter Ben reflects on his hair and also more subtly his relationship with his father. Benji cut his hair for the first time without his father's help, signaling a sort of coming of age.

Now, I got to thinking about what really hair means. How can it be such a strong symbol of growing up? It's just a lifeless thing on our body, why does it hold such powerful meaning for some people? I automatically thought of the movie Hair, a 1979 musical war comedy-drama and film adaptation of the 1968 Broadway musical of the same name. This movie follows a group of hippies who despise the Vietnam War and disregard the draft. The plot is significantly more developed than what I'm describing, but the most interesting aspect of this movie is the role that the hippies' appearances and hair play. Their hair is what describes their identity, identifying them as deviants of society.

In this movie, the hippies' 'coming of age' comes from disregarding their family's wishes and creating their own individual identity. The same happens to Benji in Sag Harbor. Cutting his hair signifies that he is ready to separate himself from his less than ideal father and create his own identity.

Image

My favorite kind of writing is the intricate and vivid kind. But only if it satisfies two conditions: it has to be modern and given to me in small doses. I'm sure many of us are struggling with reading Sag Harbor. It seems to stretch out much longer than Black Swan Green or The Bell Jar. Like Darren mentions in his blog post, probably because Sag Harbor is set in a much shorter time frame.

One of the things that intrigues me about Colson Whitehead's writing is the images he evokes with his writing. While reading our most recent chapter "To Prevent Flare-Ups" I noticed a few sections that stood out to me:

It was a weird black amoeba testing the edges of itself, throwing out nappy pseudopods here and suddenly there, an unpredictable new direction every day. I swear it lived, and have come to believe that its ever-shifting lumps and tendrils were a doomed attempt at communication with the humans.

Ordinary hair is described in such a vivid and colorful way. I almost pause in my reading and imagine the snake-like movement of the blob-ish amoeba. The same imagery and metaphor-like language was in The Bell Jar. I'm sure many of you don't need to read the following paragraph again because it is one of the most vivid and memorable pieces in the novel. But I wanted to revisit the imagery of the fig tree.

I saw my life branching out before me like the green fig tree in the story. From the tip of every branch, like a fat purple fig, a wonderful future beckoned and winked. One fig was a husband and a happy home and children, and another fig was a famous poet and another fig was a brilliant professor, and another fig was Ee Gee, the amazing editor, and another fig was Europe and Africa and South America, and another fig was Constantin and Socrates and Attila and a pack of other lovers with queer names and offbeat professions, and another fig was an Olympic lady crew champion, and beyond and above these figs were many more figs I couldn't quite make out. I saw myself sitting in the crotch of this fig tree, starving to death, just because I couldn't make up my mind which of the figs I would choose. I wanted each and every one of them, but choosing one meant losing all the rest, and, as I sat there, unable to decide, the figs began to wrinkle and go black, and, one by one, they plopped to the ground at my feet. 

 Although different in substance and image than the passage from Sag Harbor, I still imagined the fig tree winding slowly up and displaying all of Esther's potential futures. In my mind it was alive and movie-like.

How do you read passages rich with images? Does it pay like a movie in your head?

Julia's Coming-of-Age

One of my absolute favorite characters in Black Swan Green is Julia. Now that we are wrapping up this novel, I have gotten a chance to truly reflect on how Julia has changed and admire her remarkable personality. She goes through a less acknowledged, yet just as important, coming-of-age.

Now, I know that not all of us enjoyed Julia as a character in the beginning. Her teasing and acknowledgement of Jason overstepped certain sibling bounds. Referring to Jason as 'Thing' especially produced a sort of distaste among us. And rightfully so. However, many of her other mannerisms exuded a typical sibling relationship, most notably this one:

Julia said nothing for long enough to tell me she knew I was bullshitting. “Who said you could borrow Abbey Road? Her L.P. was by my crappy record player. “You hardly listen to it.” “Even if that were true, it wouldn’t make it your property. You never wear Granddad’s watch. Does that make it my property?” (36)

I am incredibly guilty of this tactic. I am sad to say that my sister has often been in the path of this wrath. I am sure that not many of us would be proud to be Julia at the beginning of Black Swan Green. However, as the novel progresses, she changes and slowly becomes a character that I began to admire. She begins exude a certain warmth and kindness in the midst of her parent's tense conflict. At the end of the novel, she still gets in the last word (typical of an older sister), but what she says is considerably more meaningful. Her coming-of-age is something that I would like to see for myself and my relationship with my siblings.

Now that I think more about it, this is a good topic for a reflective response paper...

Semester Project

I will be traveling back in time a little bit in this blog post and looking at The Bell Jar again. I don't know if I'm allowed to do this, but I had a huge moment of inspiration during class on Thursday while we were discussing the upcoming semester project. The Bell Jar was most definitely my favorite book of the semester. The topic, the writing style, and the plot line was interesting and remarkably relatable. One of my favorite scenes comes from the end of the novel when Esther is speaking to Dr. Nolan. Actually, just the character of Dr. Nolan and the ideas she stands by adds a beautiful and satisfying end to the novel. So while we were discussing the semester project I instantly thought of writing in the point of view of Dr. Nolan. Her impact on Esther was so profound and her opinions were so unconventional for the time that think it would be worthwhile to explore what Dr. Nolan really thinks about her patients, society, and the hospital.

The first idea that came to mind was to write Dr. Nolan's point of view during a session with Esther. Not only would this offer a look into Dr. Nolan's mind, but it would also paint a picture of Esther from an outside perspective. As my imagination continued to wonder, I realized that Dr. Nolan would be interesting to explore both as a psychotherapist and as a woman living in the society of the 1950's. Her career, outlook on life, and perhaps just her day to day life could be explored in the style of journals. I once saw, probably on a TV show or something, that psychotherapist often keep journals or audio recordings of their sessions with patients. For my semester project, I think I'd like to write a series of Dr. Nolan's professional and personal journal entries. I'm just hoping that my limited fiction writing skills will be able to do justice to the masterful work of Sylvia Plath.

Sylvie's Effect

I wrote part of this blog post during Spring Break when we were more than half way through Housekeeping. At this point we began to broach the topic of coming-of-age, but the most important developments of the story had not happened yet. Now having read the entire novel, I am able to form a complete opinion on Sylvie and her role in Lucille and Ruth's coming-of-age.

When Sylvie first appeared in Ruth and Lucille's life, I felt a sense of calmness and fresh air. It was as if she was offering a fresh, nurturing start after the unfortunate and brutal deaths of family members. Sylvie instead offers a very unusual twist on the typical coming-of-age scenarios we have encountered thus far. In all of the novels we have read this semester, no one person influences another character as much as Sylvie influenced Ruth. One starts to question whether or not Ruth actually comes-of-age. Is practically blindly following a role model finding your true identity? Stephen Dedalus, Holden Caulfield, and Esther Greenwood all become more worldy-wise and self aware after a personal revelation and the influence of the collective.

While finishing Housekeeping, the idea of transience and coming-of-age continued to boil. As many of us have said, the idea of leading a transient lifestyle is practically foreign. This leads to the question of right and wrong. We discussed at the beginning of the semester the definition of coming-of-age, particularly who and what determines when we have officially become adults. When each of us applies our own personal definitions of coming-of-age to the development of Ruth in Housekeeping I'm sure we will all have different levels of satisfaction with the ending of the novel. Personally, I think that Sylvie does a terrible job in nurturing Ruth and Lucille. Yes, she has moments of motherly concern, but she creates chaos within Ruth and Lucille's already painful and chaotic life.

Depression in Metaphors

Esther's path into depression is hauntingly and truthfully illustrated by Sylvia Plath. What makes this novel so deep and incredibly relevant is the notion that this depression can befall anyone. Just being in the wrong place at the wrong time in her life leads Esther down the dark and worn path of depression. Plath's metaphors for depression paint a very realistic and relatable picture.  I think depression can be a very difficult thing to describe and discuss with others, yet Plath's beautifully constructed metaphors help the reader truly delve into 'her' mind.

The first metaphor that really resonated with me was the "eye of the tornado." At the end of Chapter One, Esther says,

"I guess I should have been excited the way most of the other girls were, but I couldn’t get myself to react. I felt very still and very empty, the way the eye of a tornado must feel, moving dully along in the middle of the surrounding hullabaloo."

The imagery that this metaphor offers is extremely powerful. The eye is the calm, and seemingly dull, part of the tornado. It's the focal point, but it has no focal properties. Everything is circling around the center in a frenzy, yet the eye is never a part of the flurry happening around it. Esther is surrounded by the ever busy and ever moving New York City environment. And although she is the center of her career and life, she's disconnected and just dully being pulled along to parties and superfluous events. Most importantly, she finds it dizzying and depressing, discovering the fashion world she inhabits is superficial and disorientating.

I recently watched a YouTube video about flying into the eye of a hurricane (which is surprisingly possible). Although not a tornado, I think the video shows the unexpected calm and disassociation that Esther might be describing. [Skip to 2:45]

The other important metaphor is that of the bell jar, which illustrates so many meanings and manifestations of depression. The bell jar represents a separated and constricting environment that serves as the personal hell of the person living in it. We mentioned in class that a bell jar is traditionally used to isolate, observe, and terminate a specimen. The bottom of the jar creates a vacuum to prevent the specimen from escaping. However, it also makes the removal of the jar that much more difficult. The clear glass of the jar is particularly maddening as only the person inside knows of its presence, strangers simply see an ill person. Esther is left stewing in that jar surrounded in her own foul thoughts and mannerisms. This extremely powerful metaphor describes depression in a hauntingly poetic way. The feeling of entrapment and helplessness that I got when reading and discussing this jar was eye-opening and slightly horrifying.

Comebacks and fingerbowls and caviar! Oh my!

I find Esther to be extremely relatable, both as a scholar and as a woman. As I was reading the first half of The Bell Jar, a few things about her stood out to me that were particularly relatable. These instances made Esther that much more human, but also provide us with a sense of her true self.

1. Esther thinks of the best comebacks, hours after the argument takes place.

I do this all the time, especially in the shower. The hot and calming water always brings out my best ideas or best comebacks, but it also serves as time of self-reflection. As Esther says on pg. 22, “I never feel so much myself as when I’m in a hot bath,” rings true for me as well. The water almost strips you of all worries and unclouds the hazy ideas in your brain. When we discussed this section of the novel in class, we saw the cleanse of the water as an intense rebirth or  a distancing from her stranger life in New York. However, I think this scene can also be interpreted as a simple unwinding, something that all of us do, albeit described in a passionate way.

2. Esther drinks the fingerbowl, along with the floating cherry blossoms in it.

I thought this was one of the funniest moments the the beginning of the book and probably something that I would do at a fancy brunch. Esther describes this faux pas in passing, but her nonchalant wording makes the situation that much more horrifyingly hilarious. I was definitely cringe-laughing by the time I found out Mrs. Guinea let her drink it without saying anything. This situation makes Esther infinitely more likable, but it also suggests that maybe she isn't meant to be in New York City. Her place is not at fancy functions with the elite, an idea that we see blossoming throughout the entire first section of the novel.

3. Esther eats all of the caviar after strategically mapping out her opponents’ seating positions.

Have you ever been at a dinner party where your absolute favorite food is being served and by the time you get to it it’s all gone? Maybe the Uni Orientation Picnic comes to mind? I have and I definitely sympathize with Esther’s efforts to keep the caviar to herself. Her detailed description of Betsy and Doreen’s position at the dinner table in relation to the caviar was quite amusing, yet also comes with a morbid and serious backdrop. Before mentioning the caviar at all Esther talks in length about her home life and the poverty she grew up in. Perhaps her previously selfish actions should be interpreted as survival techniques stemming from her childhood and leading to her disassociation from New York City.

Although these instances might not be the most crucial in understanding Esther in the entirety of the novel, I do think they serve to showcase her very human and relatable characteristics. Plath creates a more endearing and intriguing character that the reader becomes invested in.