OR: Read to the end for a neo-Nazi analogy…
We haven’t blogged in a couple of weeks, and now our first assignment after the layoff is a real head-scratcher: “What WOULD the works of Ha Jin and Conrad have been like if they hadn’t written in English?” It’s hard for me to project reactions that never happened, mostly because I like to be right and this is impossible to prove, but I think it’ll be interesting to think about the differences in how these works would have turned out if written in the authors’ native tongues.
For one thing (and I’m sure many if not all of us will mention this in some way) Ha Jin’s works would have been censored in China. No artist likes censorship, so I’m sure that was probably the biggest factor in his decision to write in English. However, since this is hypothetical anyway, had his works been written in Chinese AND been uncensored, they likely wouldn’t have gotten the adulation we English-speakers give them. The works help us question our cross-cultural relationships, and from instances in what we’ve read, the Chinese culture doesn’t embrace questioning, nor cross-cultural relationships. While I’m sure there would be many free-thinkers and scholars in China who would relate to and admire the stories, I’m fairly certain the other 1.3 billion people in China would either consider them smut or be indifferent. China is definitely becoming more accepting of changing points of view, but it still has a long way to go. Perhaps there will be more “free-thinking” literature written in Chinese in the future, but I think that right now China is still too used to the artistic oppression and isolation it has recently experienced to embrace stories like Ha Jin’s. In English, however, we can admire these works for their brilliant ability to show Western civilization not only what it’s like to live in China, but also how the Chinese think, and what they value. Reading these works of art is a great way to better know the Chinese, and to better understand how the Chinese view the West.
Conrad’s Heart of Darkness hits its audience better for being written in English as well. English speakers would have been far more struck by the effects of colonialism than Polish-speakers. Nothing against Poland, but I just don’t view it as a global imperial power. Conrad was obviously trying to shed some light on the brutalities a colonial system presents, and England was the preeminent colonial power, so it makes perfect sense for him to write in English. A Polish work by Jozef Korzeniowski 1) wouldn’t have reached an English audience concerned with its themes and 2) would have reached a Polish audience unconcerned with its themes.
In short, I think I can understand what Ha Jin was trying to say in his article: It’s important to match an audience with your work’s themes. You wouldn’t read a biochemistry lab report on golgi body sulfate metabolism to a class full of third-graders, and you wouldn’t read a pamphlet of neo-Nazi propaganda at a Synagogue (ta-da!). Once Ha Jin and Conrad both understood what issues were most important to them, they also realized that the English language would reach the audience most concerned with those issues.
Thursday, October 29, 2009
Friday, October 9, 2009
Christophine as a Tangential Character
OR: The critical voice of WSS
The issue I found the most compelling in Spivak's essay is the characterization of Christophine. According to Spivak, "She [Christophine] cannot be contained by a novel which rewrites a canonical English text within the European novelistic tradition in the interest of the white Creole rather than the native." (246) In summary, since Christophine lies outside the conventions of European literature, even though she is a very important character, she exists, figuratively, outside of the realm of the novel. Thus, Spivak concludes, Christophine exists to be a critical voice. Though I find the logic in concluding that Christophine is not privy to the rules of the narrative (because she is an outlier to European literature) to be a bit stretched, I do like the idea of Christophine being a tool with which to display criticism.
Spivak cites Christophine's confrontation with Rochester as an example of this narrative criticism offered by Christophine. I admit that it is a very good example, and I also saw it mirrored in her advice to Antoinette. While Christophine confronts Rochester to display her concerns, Antoinette's criticism comes in the form of advice: "You ask me a hard thing, I tell you a hard thing, pack up and go." (65). Christophine's sound advice seems indeed to lie outside of European convention, as Antoinette dismisses the advice of "this ignorant, obstinate old negro woman, who is not certain if there is such a place as England." (67). In my opinion, and I think most of today's contemporary readers would agree, all parties would have ended up happier if Antoinette would have indeed left Rochester (especially Antoinette). In this sense, tangential Christophine has the most common sense, because she is not encumbered by 19th century European concepts of marriage and shame in letting that marriage end. Antoinette and Rochester, as Europeans, would rather manipulate each other and wallow in unhappiness than simply admit the marriage wasn't going to work and end it.
I would like to reword Spivak's argument to be a little more concrete: "since Christophine does not share the European values of the white characters in WSS, she is allowed to be critical of them. And since today's contemporary reader can relate to Christophine, Christophine can be seen as an external, critical voice in the novel." I certainly agree with this evaluation. Christophine's criticism of England, "Why you want to go to this cold, thief place?" (67), allows the reader to be critical as well.
Christophine is a very unique and useful character, in the sense that her criticisms within the novel contain instances of feminist, postcolonial, and uniquely West Indian ideals. I see Christophine as the most relatable character to today's WSS audience.
The issue I found the most compelling in Spivak's essay is the characterization of Christophine. According to Spivak, "She [Christophine] cannot be contained by a novel which rewrites a canonical English text within the European novelistic tradition in the interest of the white Creole rather than the native." (246) In summary, since Christophine lies outside the conventions of European literature, even though she is a very important character, she exists, figuratively, outside of the realm of the novel. Thus, Spivak concludes, Christophine exists to be a critical voice. Though I find the logic in concluding that Christophine is not privy to the rules of the narrative (because she is an outlier to European literature) to be a bit stretched, I do like the idea of Christophine being a tool with which to display criticism.
Spivak cites Christophine's confrontation with Rochester as an example of this narrative criticism offered by Christophine. I admit that it is a very good example, and I also saw it mirrored in her advice to Antoinette. While Christophine confronts Rochester to display her concerns, Antoinette's criticism comes in the form of advice: "You ask me a hard thing, I tell you a hard thing, pack up and go." (65). Christophine's sound advice seems indeed to lie outside of European convention, as Antoinette dismisses the advice of "this ignorant, obstinate old negro woman, who is not certain if there is such a place as England." (67). In my opinion, and I think most of today's contemporary readers would agree, all parties would have ended up happier if Antoinette would have indeed left Rochester (especially Antoinette). In this sense, tangential Christophine has the most common sense, because she is not encumbered by 19th century European concepts of marriage and shame in letting that marriage end. Antoinette and Rochester, as Europeans, would rather manipulate each other and wallow in unhappiness than simply admit the marriage wasn't going to work and end it.
I would like to reword Spivak's argument to be a little more concrete: "since Christophine does not share the European values of the white characters in WSS, she is allowed to be critical of them. And since today's contemporary reader can relate to Christophine, Christophine can be seen as an external, critical voice in the novel." I certainly agree with this evaluation. Christophine's criticism of England, "Why you want to go to this cold, thief place?" (67), allows the reader to be critical as well.
Christophine is a very unique and useful character, in the sense that her criticisms within the novel contain instances of feminist, postcolonial, and uniquely West Indian ideals. I see Christophine as the most relatable character to today's WSS audience.
Saturday, October 3, 2009
Caribbean and the Occult
OR: Voodoo, Zombies, Santeria, and the Wide Sargasso Sea
When most Westerners think of the Caribbean, we think of white sandy beaches, steel drums, picturesque sunsets, rum barrels, pirates, and maybe Usain Bolt. A fixture on “Travel Channel” and “E!’s Wild On” programming, the Caribbean islands are framed as an exotic getaway, not a place of mystery and witchcraft.
Before reading this novel, I had never heard the term “Sargasso Sea” to describe the Caribbean region. After our discussion in class, it became apparent that Rhys used “Sargasso Sea” instead of “Caribbean Ocean” specifically because she wanted to avoid the imagery presented above, and instead evoke mystery and darkness. The Sargasso Sea is strange, dangerous, and vast. A Gothic novel set in the Caribbean? It actually works quite well.
The Caribbean has always had this relaxing, fun-loving façade, but with that comes a history of un-orthodox religious practices and a belief in the supernatural. WorldWide Religious News, a website that compiles news stories from around the web and categorizes them by religion and world region, has a ton of interesting articles on the Occult in the Caribbean (see the bullet points on the right), and how it is still thriving to this day.
The relationship between Voodoo, zombies, Santeria, and the Caribbean is actually quite fascinating. At the essence of all three is the fear of losing one’s free will. This is poignant when you realize that they began as systems of beliefs for African-Caribbean slaves. A slave was always fearful of losing control of his or her soul. It makes sense to think that by taking people from Africa to the islands, then treating them as property and forcing them to work, Westerners created this idea that Caribbean slaves had a tenuous grasp on their own souls. And it is very sad.
This idea relates perfectly to Wide Sargasso Sea, because the reader is always mindful of Antoinette’s impending insanity. Antoinette, in effect, loses her ability to control herself, which is the foundation for the beliefs of the Caribbean occult. The fact that she is not a slave reinforces the idea that all of us have a tenuous grasp on our humanity, no matter what social position we find ourselves in.
When most Westerners think of the Caribbean, we think of white sandy beaches, steel drums, picturesque sunsets, rum barrels, pirates, and maybe Usain Bolt. A fixture on “Travel Channel” and “E!’s Wild On” programming, the Caribbean islands are framed as an exotic getaway, not a place of mystery and witchcraft.
Before reading this novel, I had never heard the term “Sargasso Sea” to describe the Caribbean region. After our discussion in class, it became apparent that Rhys used “Sargasso Sea” instead of “Caribbean Ocean” specifically because she wanted to avoid the imagery presented above, and instead evoke mystery and darkness. The Sargasso Sea is strange, dangerous, and vast. A Gothic novel set in the Caribbean? It actually works quite well.
The Caribbean has always had this relaxing, fun-loving façade, but with that comes a history of un-orthodox religious practices and a belief in the supernatural. WorldWide Religious News, a website that compiles news stories from around the web and categorizes them by religion and world region, has a ton of interesting articles on the Occult in the Caribbean (see the bullet points on the right), and how it is still thriving to this day.
The relationship between Voodoo, zombies, Santeria, and the Caribbean is actually quite fascinating. At the essence of all three is the fear of losing one’s free will. This is poignant when you realize that they began as systems of beliefs for African-Caribbean slaves. A slave was always fearful of losing control of his or her soul. It makes sense to think that by taking people from Africa to the islands, then treating them as property and forcing them to work, Westerners created this idea that Caribbean slaves had a tenuous grasp on their own souls. And it is very sad.
This idea relates perfectly to Wide Sargasso Sea, because the reader is always mindful of Antoinette’s impending insanity. Antoinette, in effect, loses her ability to control herself, which is the foundation for the beliefs of the Caribbean occult. The fact that she is not a slave reinforces the idea that all of us have a tenuous grasp on our humanity, no matter what social position we find ourselves in.
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