Orlando (No...Not Bloom)

When I first read Virginia Woolf's Orlando I hated it.

It was really weird. I mean really. The protagonist starts out as a young man in Elizabethan England and then decides that he will never grow old. And he doesn't. He just continues living until one day--poof!--he's no longer a man (physically), he's a woman (physically). She then continues living and the book ends with Orlando a woman in the 1920's. That's not a storyline I'm used to.

However, after reading the essay on androgyny from V. Woolf's A Room of One's Own, I have a better appreciation for what was happening in Orlando.

The character Orlando is fascinating, once you move beyond the supernatural sex change. When Orlando is physically a man, he seems effeminate, more emotional and submissive than one generally assumes a man to be. And when Orlando is a woman, she seems masculine: less emotional and more assertive than one generally assumes a woman to be. (What one expects of the time period, I mean, or perhaps what one stereotypically expects.)

Gender is a complicated problem throughout the novel. The book begins in the reign of Queen Elizabeth, a grotesque character in the book, but in real life a woman succeeding, peculiarly, in the post generally held by a man. Orlando's first major love interest, Sasha, is a very masculine woman. Indeed, when Orlando first spots Sasha (while Sasha is ice skating), he is unsure whether she is a man or a woman, for she appears androgynous. In addition, Sasha is Russian, which makes her name even more interesting, as it is usually a name used for Russian men. Compared to (man) Orlando, Sasha is far more masculine; in their relationship, it is almost as if the typical "roles" were reversed, with Orlando playing the woman, and Sasha the man.

Later, (woman) Orlando will marry Marmaduke Bonthrop Shelmerdine, Esquire: a fellow who, like Orlando (and Sasha), does not fit neatly into gender categories--for just as Orlando is “as tolerant and free spoken as a man” and Shel is “as strange and subtle as a woman.” In one scene, Orlando exclaims: "You're a woman, Shel!" to which he replies "You're a man, Orlando!"

The above, I fear, barely touches the surface of the issue of gender in Woolf's Orlando, but it is necessary, I think, to even be able to begin talking about her opinions on androgyny.

Woolf asks "whether there are two sexes in the mind corresponding to the two sexes in the body, and whether they also require to be united in order to get complete satisfaction and happiness" (1025). She seems to answer her own question with a yes, for she goes on to state that "a great mind is androgynous. It is when this fusion takes place that the mind is fully fertilized and uses all its faculties" (1025). In Orlando, Woolf presents many of her characters as androgynous. Some are more "man-womanly," others more "woman-manly," but many of the major players defy the typical ways of thinking about gender.

In light of all the gender issues in today's world (homosexuals, bi-sexuals, transsexuals, transgender, etc), I wonder whether Woolf didn't have it right. Can we clearly label men as simply masculine and women as simply feminine, or is the distinction far less concrete. Is there a distinction between the genders at all, or merely distinctions between individuals?

Walk the Tight Rope

Writing is supposed to be a craft.

I get it.

The craft, the artistry of a work is what makes it beautiful, worth reading--it is what sets it apart from fleeting, mundane, mediocre works. True writers work diligently to hone this craft, laboring over every word, every comma, every blank space, every nuance--as they strive towards perfection. These artists seek not only to master an existing craft, they seek to make it their own.

I understand that writing is a craft, and I will be the first to say that the label of "artist" should be applied in an exclusive manner to writers who attain excellence in the craft (and not willy nilly to any Tom, Diane or Harry who calls themself a writer).

Being a craftsmen is one thing--being able to read said craft is another. The question was raised (in class) whether writers/artists should seek to make their work accessible to others.

...

Exactly. How do you begin to answer that? On one hand, we have the possibility that in attempting to reach the common man the craft will be lost--the work will have to be dumbed down. On the other hand, why does the work have to be dumbed down? I'm sure many of us have had an experience reading a piece where it felt like the writer was doing everything in their power to ensure that you had no chance of understanding their work.

I think that a writer should strive for excellence, for mastery of the craft, yes. But I also feel that, perhaps, they should not strive so hard to keep their craft behind closed doors--limited admittance: born and bred intellectuals only. What about the common man? If writers are to be "liberating gods" shouldn't they seek to actually liberate? Why keep their knowledge, their talent hidden away from the majority of the world? Couldn't there be a way to lift the common man up without dumbing their work down?

I Am America

I really, really want to read Stephen Colbert's I Am America (And So Can You!). Although I do not watch The Colbert Report on a regular basis, I greatly enjoy the show and Colbert's sense of humor. Several of my friends (whose tastes I trust) have recommended the book to me, one going so far as to read me a portion of the book (as if I needed the extra convincing). Every time I walk into a Borders or a Barnes and Nobles I see row upon row of the book sitting prominently out with the best sellers, mocking the pennies that jingle in the pockets of my sweatpants.

I want this book.

But why? As I was reading Ohmann's "The Shaping of a Canon: U.S. Fiction 1960-1975," I could not help but examine my own method's for choosing a book to read. (Although, I must be honest, with the amount of books I have to read for school, I rarely have the time to read anything that is not found on a syllabus.) I don't read The New York Times, but I do base much of my reading off the recommendations of others. In fact, I still exchange book recommendations with some girlfriends from high school. It's not impossible to imagine that, through a trickledown effect or degrees of separation, the recommendations I receive can be traced back to "elite" critics. I don't find that much has changed since the time period the article tackles. The middle class or professional-managerial class still plays the deciding role in determining the success of books (movies, music, etc). And, when traced back, the root of these decisions can probably still be found in New York, or other metropolitan epicenters.

Why do I want to read I Am America? To be slightly cynical: because Stephen Colbert was a success on The Daily Show and the higher ups decided it would be profitable to approve a spin off show and the show was (and is) highly successful and the higher ups (in whatever field) approved a book because they knew the fan base would make it profitable and that the soaring sales figures would garner attention...yada yada yada.

I would still like to cling to the belief that I want to read the book because I find Stephen Colbert amusing because I need to believe that my tastes are intrinsically determined. Because that helps me sleep at night.

What's in a form? That which we call a story by any other form...

"The storyteller takes what he tells from experience--his own or that reported by others. And he in turn makes it the experience of those who are listening to his tale. The novelist has isolated himself. The birthplace of the novel is the solitary individual, who is no longer able to express himself by giving examples of his most important concerns, is himself uncounseled, and cannot counsel others." -Walter Benjamin

I suppose my hackles go up because I have grown up on the novel. One of my earliest "book memories" is of meeting the March family and sharing the girls' trials and triumphs in Little Women, and plunging into a good book is one of my favorite pleasures. But it seems, to me, that Benjamin would turn this pleasure into a guilty pleasure. That we readers are somehow cheating ourselves, fooling ourselves by reading the novel.

I can admit that there are differences between the novel and storytelling. I can admit that the author-novel-reader set up does not have the intimacy of the storyteller-story-listener model. But I would not say that only stories come from personal or related experience. Many novels are (at least in some small part) autobiographical, inspired by people, events or experiences in the author's life. And the author of a novel oftentimes writes about the experience of others, just as the storyteller oftentimes passes on stories that he or she first heard from another. The author of a novel, however, also writes the stories of imagined characters. I cannot recall from the article whether a storyteller creates fictional tales, but I would guess that (according to Benjamin) they do not. I would also defend the novel by saying that it too, can take the experience of the characters and "in turn make it the experience of those who are [reading the] tale." Isn't that part of what makes a novel enjoyable, engrossing to the reader? My favorite books are the ones where I feel as though I am right alongside of the protagonist, when their agonies cause me pain, and their joys send my spirits soaring.

I disagree that the author is "no longer able to express himself by giving examples of his most important concerns." Does it make a difference whether the author vocalizes his concerns by setting down his exact experience or whether the author relates his experience through fictional characters and events? I do not think this makes a great difference. Perhaps it could be argued that this makes the storyteller braver than the author of a novel, for the storyteller is willing to lay their personal story bare before an audience while the author hides behind the veil of fiction. But a storyteller also shares stories that are not their own when they relate stories second or third or fourth hand. I have trouble seeing such a stark difference between the author and the storyteller.

I also disagree (quite forcefully) with the idea that the novelist "cannot counsel others." If the story/novel leads the listener/reader to some truth or understanding, what difference does the form make? If a work, for example, leads the consumer to a better understanding of-- let's be flippant--the meaning of life, what difference does it make if the consumer found that understanding in a poem, a novel, a short story, an epic or a oral story? Should we be concerned with the form or the results?

I do agree that in letting oral tradition die we are losing a crucial form of communication, of intimacy. However, I do not agree with the harsh criticism that Benjamin levels against the novel.

Don't Believe the Hype

Is plagiarism that bad?

Yes, and no. I've been trying to figure out my stance (or really, any stance) only plagiarism for awhile now. We're reminding every semester, in every class syllabus that taking the work of others and presenting it as our own is w-r-o-n-g, wrong. But in some of those same classes, I have learned about the great English poet and playwright, Mr. Bill Shakespeare, who lifted many of his plots from other writers--and we hold his works in highest esteem.

What brought this subject to my mind this past week was the example we were given in class to ponder (example 3). Although the question was "does it really matter who is speaking," that was not the question that lay on my heart. As we have been discussing the role of the author and the author's connection to their works, I find myself wondering what some of the critics we are reading would say if their work was plagiarized by another writer. Would they be angry? Would they see it as a violation of their craft or would they see it as nothing at all? If they view their work as something that loses all connection to them (the author) after it is written, then would they say that it really does not affect them if it is stolen? As usual I do not have answers to these questions, but I do wonder.

As a consumer of film and television, I was struck by the plight of the writer earlier this year when we were in a media drought due to the WGA (Writer's Guild of America) strike. While many people were annoyed that their favorite shows were temporarily off the air, I found myself worrying about, praying about, fretting about thousands of writers that I didn't know, that I had never and would never meet. I was outraged on their behalf, and I while I couldn't wait for my favorite shows to return (The Office), I didn't want to see them come back until the writers that made them possible were given fair compensation for their talents.

Although money matters are always a touchy subject, especially when they're Hollywood money matters, the strike made me consider the plight of the author in the internet age. When anything can be placed on line and read/viewed for free, where does that leave the person who has poured their life into creating the work of art, piece of literature, segment of film that we so gleefully watch online (for free) rather than viewing in it's tangible (not free) form? Although the act of writing, for many authors, is not done for the money, it is how they chose to make their living, so what does that mean when we take the fruit of their labor and do not pay them for it?

This may all sound like ramblings, but it has been on my mind since we so briefly touched on the topic of plagiarism. What does it mean for a writer when someone else takes credit for their work? Or does it matter? So long as the words reach people, spark discussion and thought, does it really matter who says it? Or is it the context? Is it wrong to fake a term paper but okay to take a preexisting plot and turn it into Hamlet and pass it off as your own? Is it okay to fictionalize world history but wrong to lie in an autobiography or memoir?

I find it so fascinating that people cannot decide where they stand on the issue of plagiarism and "lying" to the reader. We love Shakespeare and hate Cassandra Claire (shout out to all the purveyors of fanfiction :D), we accept that history is a fabrication but we lambaste an author for embellishing a memoir and passing it off as truth. But...as I am one of those people, I really don't have room to talk.

Nobody Puts Plot in a Corner

"I do think, however, that plot is a notion that critics undervalue and, hence, often disregard."
(Todorov, 2102)

This does seem to be the trend in some of my classes. We do not disregard plot, but we are more interested in talking about the nuances of a character (their flaws, motivations, etc), or about symbolism, motifs, themes, etc. Plot oftentimes get shoved to the background, considered merely the framework for the story, but otherwise unessential compared to the "deeper" aspects of the story.

While plot is, by necessity, a framework that supports the motifs, themes and characters, I do agree with Todorov that we often undervalue it. Just this evening I was at a meeting where a film major was outlining his vision for his upcoming film. His goal is for it to be a Christian film, with Christian themes, etc, but (to paraphrase) he doesn't want it to be "crappy plot, crappy plot, crappy plot, salvation speech, BAM! conversion." He made (what I feel is) a valid criticism of some Christian works--film, books, etc--in that they focus too much on forcing in a literal conversion of one of the characters, that they forget to make the rest of the work any good. I have observed this unfortunate truth many times myself. In an effort to get at the "higher meaning," important aspects like plot and characterization are sacrificed. Unfortunately, when you neglect your important "base" elements (like plot and characterization), then your "higher meaning" often becomes as unbelievable as the shaky plot.

While I dearly love symbolism, motifs, themes, etc, I would not sacrifice the plot of a work for anything. Isn't that what we look for when we pick up a book? Plot? You can't tell me that when you're browsing in Barnes and Noble's you look for the book that looks like it will have the best symbolism. You don't read the back cover/inside flap for insight to the motifs of the novel. No, you look for a plot that looks, if not fresh (for we can argue as to how many "original" plots there really are), then intriguing.

Sometimes I think we get just a little too full of ourselves, a little to assured of our own deep insight as English majors, or literary critics, or whatever. I think we tend to tell plot to sit down and keep quiet, to not draw attention to itself.

But I say: "Nobody puts plot in a corner."

Art vs. Science

I feel (again I show how postmodernism has affected me) that there must be a distinction between art and science.

The standard distinction (however simplistic) would be that art is emotional and science is objective. That is true, I think. Art has some similarities to science, in that different forms of art have guiding rules and regulations that they must follow (a poem is not a sonnet, for example, if it only has five lines). I also believe that art and science are methods by which we can discover truth; however, I believe that they lead us to two very different types of truth (but that is a post for another day). The difference I want to talk about, is that I see art as an expressive way to illuminate truth. I would say a roundabout way, but that carries connotations that I don't want. Art (and specifically poetry, literature) provides a way of expressing a truth without using that wallop I spoke of, that frying pan to the face. Art is able to do so because of our emotions, because of the way true poets meticulously choose their words, their form, their spacing, their rhythm, so that they evoke in (most of) their readers the emotional response that they want. They pick and pluck at the common experiences and emotions that connect us, playing on them and drawing us to a crescendo of emotion that raises us up to the point they wanted to make.

True, the emotion is not the poem, the poem uses emotions as a tool to bring us to its meaning. W and B have it right when they talk about specificity of emotion (1398), but I feel that, overall, they come down a little too hard on emotion, and veer too far towards objectivity for my liking.