Citizen: "By Any Means Necessary"

A line that struck me as being particularly powerful in Claudia Rankine's, Citizen, comes out of the situation video "Stop and Frisk":

"In a land drawn from an ocean bed, you can't drive yourself sane - so angry you can't drive yourself sane - so angry you are crying. You can't drive yourself sane" (p. 105).

Initially, this line stood out to me for being extremely involved and ambiguous. I had no idea what it meant. To begin to comprehend this line (and most of the book as a whole) I employed Nabokovian reading techniques, especially the technique of rereading. I read over the passage as a whole three or four times. Through Nabokovian techniques I found that "In a land drawn from an ocean bed" makes reference to the United States and how, for blacks, it often seems to be a foreign, unfair, and intolerable environment. The United States can appear so foreign, unfair, and intolerable that many blacks are driven to un-controllable rage and insanity. This line was powerful to me because it serves as call to action. Reminiscent of the ideas of Malcolm X, the line reflects Rankine's larger message: that black individuals should embrace and accept their blackness and the anger/insanity that results from racist interactions.

A Nabokovian Way of Watching a Movie

Recently, we have been watching the movie Trust. Unfortunately, I was out the first day and so I was originally rather confused. However, as time as gone on and I have watched more of the film I have actually come to enjoy my lack of character development.

The early part of the movie sets up much of the internal strife between characters. However, lacking any of this knowledge I have been able to view the film more objectively and without bias. This very Nabokovian way of experiencing literature has been a unique and challenging experience for me. I cannot empathize with the characters and am thus forced to look at them objectively and try to understand who they are and what they represent.

This new perspective has been an interesting and fulfilling experience that going forward I will try to emulate but with whole story.

Let's Use the Entire Apartment, Shall We?

"After lunch I was a little bored and I wandered around the apartment. It was just the right size when Maman was here. Now it's too big for me, and I've had to move the dining room table into my bedroom. I live in just one room now, with some saggy straw chairs, a wardrobe whose mirror has gone yellow, a dressing table, and a brass bed. I've let the rest go." - Albert Camus' The Stranger, page 21

Camus lives up to the strangeness of his title by inserting the antithesis of materialism. Although the novel was originally published in 1942 France, I think there would still be materialistic values in society, right? World War II was blowing full force across Europe, and Camus is seated in a cushioned chair, writing of his protagonist's self-sacrifice (at least that's how I envision him).

Perhaps I have completely misinterpreted the quote. Maybe Meursault is truly grieving over the untimely loss of his mother, but I personally find that hard to believe, as he hadn't visited her, nor could he recall the actual day his mother died.

If I could visit Meursault myself I would scorn him for wasting such a lovely French apartment! Yes, houses can be too large for comfort, but there's no need to squash furniture into the four walls of a room when there's an entire apartment to inhabit.

I assume I owe a massive apology to Nabakov for bringing my personal vision of materialism and the correct use of furniture and applying it to Camus' "new world" which I have just begun to learn of in the first 30 pages of the book. But Meursault seems to be wasting away his life and worldly possessions. Who hurt this man? I don't believe that he's ethereal enough to reject all material temptation, yet he seems to be moping around in a cramped apartment that shouldn't be. His only solace comes from a liquor bottle or the fingers of a cigarette. Perhaps that is why his mirror has gone yellow. Smoke is no good for material possessions, but they must not have known that in 1942 France.

Cell One: Locked Up Great Ideas

"Cell One" by Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie is a page-turner. Two robberies are introduced within the first paragraph. Readers quickly learn about the relationship the narrator has with her brother, parents, and readers learn about what school life is like. Her brother Nnamabia I believe is the central character in the story, and his persona and actions dictate what we learn about the people around him. For example, his persona as a popular and outgoing person, led me to assume that the narrator is not as popular as he is, or wishes to be. Also, when ends up in jail and his parents visited him everyday with food, I learned that his parents care about him and don't want him to suffer the full consequences of his actions. I was surprised that the parents never asked why he got in jail in the first place. I think that shows they couldn't imagine their son getting into so much trouble.

The text also introduced many binaries, explored by Benjamin, throughout the story. The first one I noticed was one of race: fair skin verses darker skin. The line, "Hey! Madam, why did you waste your fair skin on a boy and leave the girl so dark? What is a boy doing with all this beauty? And my mother would chuckle, as though she took a mischievous and joyful responsibility for Nnamabia's looks" exemplifies that the narrator is held against the standard of fair skin as beautiful and feminine. Another binary I noticed was between university professors and government workers or police. The police think the university faculty members are oblivious to the misbehavior their children are capable of. A third binary I noticed is between the narrator and her brother. After I read the whole story it was clear to me Nnamabia is the favorite child. The narrator clearly shows her opposition to the jail visits when she throws a stone at the car windshield, but at other times it wasn't as clear to me. After Nnamabia is described as having infectious sores across his forehead, and having survived a couple days in jail, the narrator still uses the adjectives, "worldly", "handsome", and "charming" to describe him. When she said her "worldly" brother was breaking down I don't know if she was being sarcastic and mean-spirited, or genuinely upset at the toll jail time had taken on her brother.

Transitioning from Benjamin to Nabakov, according to Nabakov, a good reader is someone who does not try to relate to the characters or the story. As a Nigerian American young woman, I have eaten jollof rice, seen Okadas, and have heard many stories of life at university from both of my parents. It was hard to not picture the last time I was in Nigeria (last summer) and how the story overlaps with my experience. Nevertheless, for the most part I tried to read the text as a true outsider.

Overall, I like how detailed the text is in describing life on campus, interactions with police, and cult culture that develops. It is sad how many of the acts of violence are not uncommon. It is interesting how our country's influence doesn't stop at "rap music and swagger" but extends to cults and guns.

Smell the Roses

The more we study poetry the more it becomes apparent to me that there are two ways of reading it: one as literature and one as art. I think the distinction is important to make, and maybe I'm being Nabakovian about this but when we try to blend the technical with the artistic in analysis, things get messy.

I think we need to be clear in discussions if we are coming at analysis from an artistic or technical view, because truly artful poetry includes both, but if we let our search for meaning inhibit our enjoyment of the poem, then we have to acknowledge it.

This rings the same in other art forms. I'm partial to dance, and have experienced the same struggle. Ballet in particular is incredibly technical, with details and choreography worked out in as much depth as a Faulkner sentence. Within this technique, though, is the necessity for artistry. There are many dancers whose technique is incredibly precise but they aren't as enjoyable to watch; other dancers possess artistry that draws the viewer's attention despite many technical flaws. When I go to see dance shows I have to tell myself not to get wrapped up in the technical criticisms and sit and enjoy the artistry. However, if I were to critique the company as a whole, I would have to pay attention to the fine details of their technique.

It's similar in music. I can spend hours finding grammar errors in lyrics or counting chords, and if I were to formally critique it, I would need to. But the overarching goal is for it to be enjoyed.

I guess this is just a mini-PSA to say that in spite of all of this poetry analysis and deep thinking about meaning, poetry is still an art and art is meant to be enjoyed above all, not just scrutinized to within an inch of its life. Maybe as we drift away from essays we can stop to smell the roses and just appreciate writing for how it makes us feel and not why it makes us feel that way.

Conversely, "This poetic device enhances the meaning of the poem because it entertained me," isn't usually a valid analysis in an essay. Just saying.

Confidence is Key

Upon reading a couple essays in class today, I just had to comment on how amazing everyone's lives seem when they "show, don't tell." The Nabakovian magic of enchanting is aided by good stories, but good storytelling is the primary way to enchant readers.

After reading the various short stories and presenting projects about them, I think we all gained familiarity with writing styles that pull the reader in, and whether or not it was conscious, reflected some of those strategies in our college essay drafts. I read two seriously captivating essays, and even enjoyed some lines that the authors didn't find to be particularly revealing or interesting.

Even in my own essay, I found that the parts readers enjoyed the most were the parts that I was the most self-conscious about, or that I didn't think would work. Taking risks really is important, and if we write with central themes and/or the prompt in mind, often times we convey our message and characters without even recognizing it.

So this has turned almost into a cheesy motivational speech, and maybe I'm just feeling particularly optimistic, but I think that as we revise our essays we should be confident in what we write and let the spirit take us, so to speak, with becoming Nabakovian writers. Honesty, creativity, and confidence can be perceived by the reader, and when combined can form a captivating story. I read some great lines today and I'm sure there are more out there, so words of encouragement, I guess, keep writing!

No Happy Endings Allowed in the Classroom

Of course the various stories we've read include numerous binaries and are relatable to both Benjamin's theory of mutual recognition and Nabakov's definition of a good writer.  These connections have sparked great conversations both on our blog and in class.  I, however, would like to shortly address another common theme that seems to extend into the majority of well-written short stories: a lack of happy endings.  On one end of the spectrum lies a sort of strange, uncomfortable residue seen in stories like "Victory Lap" or "The Secret Woman", where the ending is ambiguously resolved in a not unhappy fashion but still leaves readers a little stuck over whether they can feel good about the way they story left off.  On the other end lie the stories in which the conclusion casts a darkness over the readers, often utilizing death ("Old Woman Magoun") or confounding dysfunction ("The Swimmer").  But on a spectrum stretching from ambiguously okay to 'question-the-sanity-of-an-author-who-dreamed-up-such-depravity' horrifying, where is the happy ending?  I know that as someone disposed more towards optimism and growing up under Thomas the Tank Engine mentality, I wouldn't mind a happy ending here or there.  So where is the resolution that makes us feel good about ourselves?

When I think about it analytically, however, a happy ending sort of defeats the purpose of a short story.  Since short stories are short, they have to quickly manage to provide two things: a quick sense of familiarity with the setting and characters as well as a point that will make the reader understand its significance and remember the story after devoting only twenty minutes to it.  As Nabakov would point out (hey, he managed to sneak his way into this post after all): good readers don't relate to characters.  Readers who want to simply read about what they know, readers who simply want to feel good about themselves, might as well write and read their own work, not even bothering with the works of 'good writers'.  It takes an aspect of Nabakov's good writing - the creation of a new world and a new experience - to create an actual impact for any good readers.  And a happy ending isn't going to foster in readers a sense of change or the chance to take a step back and see through a different lens.  Only an ending that makes us ponder, an ending that unsettles us, an ending that won't lull us into contentment, can make a short story powerful.

Escape from Yourself

It is not often that a reader finds himself inside a character without thinking of that character as himself. However, as Vladmir Nabakov writes in "Good Readers and Good Writers", that is a trait of a poor reader. Someone who is a good reader, at least by Nabakov's standards, is able to read a character without always trying to relate, or has an impersonal imagination. In George Saunder's stories "Victory Lap" and "Escape from Spiderhead" from Tenth of December, he makes this easy for the reader.

Specifically, in "Victory Lap", The style of writing is what allows the reader to read to Nabakov's satisfaction. It is written in third person limited, which is somewhat unusual. We get to look inside the minds of his strange complicated characters and hear all of their strange complicated thoughts. However, if this was all happening in first person, we wouldn't get that feeling of being some non-physical observer. It would feel like reading a diary, which would be much more personal and would make it easier to relate to the character. Writing the story in third person limited feels slightly unnatural at first, but in the end you get a much more enchanting experience.

Saunders is 'good writer' in "Escape from Spiderhead" for an entirely different reason. It is because the world he created in the story is so completely different than our own. And even though it is an imaginary-science-fiction-emotional-torture-jail, it still felt very human. However, not relatable enough to fuse the reader to the character, Jeff. The reader is able to observe this strange world through Jeff's thoughts and feelings. Saunders is even able to give the reader an experience of what death might be like in this world, or our own. He does not just take his own experiences and write about them, he writes of things that most likely no one has experienced, while still giving them meaning and significance in our own lives.

Escape into the Unconscious

According to Nabakov, in order to be a good reader, one must never by any means relate to a character in the story by connecting it with their own life. By drawing parallels and relating a character's life to your own, you are essentially making massive assumptions about that character of which the author may not have intended to come across. By making these assumptions and reading a story in this narrow-minded sense, you are missing out on the full enchantment of that character and story as a whole. In order to be a good reader, you must allow yourself to become fully enchanted through the author's words because if not, you are not only limiting your ability to absorb the good writing, but are also not truly appreciating or respecting the authors work.

While some may argue that becoming fully enchanted in this sense is impossible, George Saunders challenges that. In both "Victory Lap" as well as "Escape from Spiderhead," the story is told from a sort of stream of consciousness point of view that while first appears very confusing, leads you into this sort of trance where even though you do not always understand exactly what is happening, as the story unfolds, it leaves you understanding the story on a much deeper level by the time it is finished. By getting this view from the deepest, most personal level, it's almost as if you understand the characters better than they do themselves. At the start of "Victory Lap," we are introduced to Alison, who awaiting at the top of the stairs, builds this entire fantasy of choosing her dream prince. While it at first appears trivial, this fantasy allows us to get to know Alison on a personal level and can even be used as evidence that she is in fact not in a mentally normal state.

Saunders writes similarly while inside Kyle's head where we are able to see his internal battle between the id and superego within his consciousness. Because of this writing style, Saunders is able to fully delve into deeper themes of subjectivity and power that cannot be looked at from the surface. We see that he is intelligent and very much aware of the system that he is trapped in, his consciousness proving that there is something truly wrong with the hierarchy. Kyle always has his father in his mind, fight against his father and family as much as it is a fight with the person. This shows that it is really hard to break out of the system. This battle within his mind where his parents rule his thoughts is because he has a relationship with his parents in which he has never seen mutual recognition.

The Ringleader of Short Stories

In Tenth of December, a collection of short stories by George Saunders, Saunders creates a sentiment of enchantment through his ability to keep the reader's knowledge on the same level (if not lower) as the character. His artistic finesse reminds me of a Circus Ringleader of sorts; slowly revealing a hidden gem as the story unfolds.

In Escape From Spiderhead, a short story within Tenth of December, Saunders' style of writing allows for the reader to act as a bystander inside of the new world. The reader's undeniable confusion parallels the confusion that Jeff experiences throughout the story. Saunders hints at bits and pieces of Jeff's past and the environment he exists in to give us a sense of this "new world," however we can only understand the new world by completely involving ourselves in the story. By exposing details periodically throughout the tale, Saunders effectively drives the reader to yearn for more information and subsequently continue to read the story until the very end.

This potent artistry employed by Saunders enables the reader to fully captivate what Jeff is experiencing without the necessity to identify with the character, as Nabokov would censure. 

Analysis Paralysis and Paralysis Analysis

In “Victory Lap,” both Alison Pope and Kyle Boot find themselves figuratively paralyzed when faced with opportunities to act. For Kyle, his moment of paralysis occurs when he stands on his porch watching the “meter-reader” drag Alison away, debating whether to intervene. Alison, likewise, is haunted by the feeling of immobilization as she dreams about deciding to stop Kyle from killing the intruder. Both suffer from “analysis paralysis,” or inability to act due to over-thinking.

Kyle’s analysis paralysis derives from his obsession with contemplating the consequences of his actions. He constantly harrasses himself by wondering “WHAT IF...RIGHT NOW?” (pg. 11) and early in the story, he finds himself immobilized when he realizes that in order to clean muddy footprints off the floor, he must leave more (pg. 11). When Kyle contemplates if he should help Alison, he imagines the consequences of helping: his parents’ reactions to his violation of their “directives” not to intervene and even how his reputation would suffer if he were to call 911, admitting that he saw the incident and chose not to save Alison. By over-thinking the results of his actions rather than following his gut, he fails to act immediately.

Unlike Kyle, Alison quickly knows that she wants to intervene. As she watches Kyle lift the geode to kill the intruder, she whispers “Kyle, don’t" (pg. 26). However, she frequently wakes up from dreaming that she failed to stop Kyle. She relates this feeling of paralysis to dreams in which she wants to save a puppy but can’t because she must also balance a ball on her head (pg. 26). The complication of the task by the addition of the ball reflects Alison’s tendency to become immobilized by her imagination. For instance, at the beginning of the story, she spends a rather long time at the top of a staircase, lost in a fantasy and unable to proceed in reality.

George Saunders’ ability to enchant the reader is evident in these moments of paralysis. By granting the reader access to all Alison and Kyle’s thoughts, Saunders invites the reader not just to see how the characters act, but to understand what thoughts, fears, and patterns of thought compel them to act in the way they do.

Talk to Me Later - I'm Too Busy Being Omniscient to Think

No matter how tempting you find it, I wouldn't suggest reading George Saunder's "Victory Lap" while standing up.  Neither would I suggest reading it while riding the train, unless you trust the stranger sitting next to you to alert you when your stop is next.  I would straight up admonish you for even thinking about continuing to read it as you cross the street ('Why are you mentioning it if you've never thought of it then, you hypocrite?' you might ask.  I hold that that is irrelevant.) 

These may all seem like generally bad ideas, so hopefully you weren't considering them in the first place.  However, I'd like to argue that they are particularly untenable when in the midst of reading "Victory Lap", because its unique third-person, stream of conscious point of view consumes the reader's attention so thoroughly as to block out their own thoughts. 

You might think that sounds outrageously far-fetched.  And I agree that, yes, you are probably going to have your own reactionary thoughts to the unfolding plot in the midst of reading - but ultimately Saunders forces his readers to forgo their own mind processes in favor of figuring out what the heck is going on in the characters' minds.  Especially so when you don't even know if you're in their minds in the first place!  Saunders begins his story simply as the narrator: "Three days shy of her fifteenth birthday, Alison Pope paused at the top of the stairs." (pg. 3)  But by the next sentence the reader is thrust into Alison's mind without the I in ICE (introduce, cite, explain) or even an 'I' to indicate Alison is expressing thoughts as she would in the first person.  So starts the roller coaster ride of choppy, uncensored thoughts and alternating featured characters which never provides the reader a chance to catch their breath, much less mobilize their own 'personal imagination'.  Nabokov would be proud.

The Magic of a Geode

I'm not enchanted by George Saunders. He has his magical moments, but I never feel enchanted. Enchantment, as described by Nabokov, is a necessary happening to become a good author. However, I find that enchantment can draw away from the storyline of Saunders' short stories. When I think enchantment, I think wordy. Deep, too deep, descriptions of unnecessary scenes; and Saunders does not do that. He keeps the reader active and engaged-not dreary and dreading the next paragraph of descriptive fluff. He keeps up captivated- not enchanted.

In Escape from Spiderhead, there scarcely is a dull moment. He leaves us with an opportunity to form our own opinions yet leads us toward a common ending. He uses every captivating material in his repertoire to keep us locked in- sex, death, suicide, challenging authority, prison, women, men... All things that the readers secretly wish that they could have or do. His stories combine all of these edgy ideals into a massive hodgepodge of controversy and sensual chaos that leaves the reader wishing it wasn't a short story. 

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Pay no attention to the man behind the curtain.