Thursday, February 23, 2012
My Next Adventure
I am attempting to fully step into the blogging genre! I plan to put reviews of what I read on this blog for all to see. Wish me luck as I continue my journey be a life-long learner! XOXO
Monday, June 27, 2011
Virginia Woolf a Feminist for the Ages
Virginia Woolf’s book A Room of One’s Own is an important piece of literature with the main theme being women’s rights. In almost every direction she looked women were not allowed. I believe she desperately wanted the right to an education. The anguish she must have felt at not having that right must have tormented her. This book tell us that women must have a room of their own to pursue their dreams.
In Woolf’s time, women had no rights. Her beliefs are strategically placed throughout her book. She begins in chapter one, “a woman must have money and a room of her own if she is to write fiction.” (page 1229). A woman must have enough independence to provide for herself and realize her dreams. As she was preparing to speak about women and fiction, she came across the idea to read a book written by Charles Lamb. When she approached the library, she was refused access because she was female. “but here I was actually at the door which leads into the library itself. I must have opened it, for instantly there issued, like a guardian angel barring the way with a flutter of black gown instead of white wings, a deprecating, silvery, kindly gentleman, who regretted in a low voice as he waved me back that ladies are only admitted to the library if accompanied by a Fellow of the College or furnished with a letter of introduction.” That is the most outrageous thing I have ever heard. I am sure Woolf felt the exact same way because she said, “That a famous library has been cursed by a woman is a matter of complete indifference to a famous library.” (Page 1231)
I would love to hear what Virginia Woolf would think about women’s rights today. Would it be more than she could have ever dreamed, or would it not be nearly enough? What I do know is that she was a very brave and strong woman. She desired respect and independence. Maybe if she would have been born sixty years later she would have seen the effects of what she fought for… women to have “A Room of One’s Own.”
In Woolf’s time, women had no rights. Her beliefs are strategically placed throughout her book. She begins in chapter one, “a woman must have money and a room of her own if she is to write fiction.” (page 1229). A woman must have enough independence to provide for herself and realize her dreams. As she was preparing to speak about women and fiction, she came across the idea to read a book written by Charles Lamb. When she approached the library, she was refused access because she was female. “but here I was actually at the door which leads into the library itself. I must have opened it, for instantly there issued, like a guardian angel barring the way with a flutter of black gown instead of white wings, a deprecating, silvery, kindly gentleman, who regretted in a low voice as he waved me back that ladies are only admitted to the library if accompanied by a Fellow of the College or furnished with a letter of introduction.” That is the most outrageous thing I have ever heard. I am sure Woolf felt the exact same way because she said, “That a famous library has been cursed by a woman is a matter of complete indifference to a famous library.” (Page 1231)
I would love to hear what Virginia Woolf would think about women’s rights today. Would it be more than she could have ever dreamed, or would it not be nearly enough? What I do know is that she was a very brave and strong woman. She desired respect and independence. Maybe if she would have been born sixty years later she would have seen the effects of what she fought for… women to have “A Room of One’s Own.”
T.S. Elliot Journey of the Magi
The Journey of the Magi is a poem detailing the epic journey made by three kings. The journey takes them to a far away land. In this journey, they are humbled by their surroundings. The kings were used to an elaborate palace with people bringing them their hearts desire. “Lying down in the melting snow / there were times we regretted / The summer palaces on slopes, the terraces, / And the silken girls bringing sherbet.” (line 7 – 10). They were not accustomed to roughing it. There are always mishaps when taking a trip of any kind. This pilgrimage was important” With the voices singing in our ears, saying / That this was all folly.” (line 19 & 20). They doubted themselves and their mission. They still pressed on. When they reached their destination, it changed them forever. “We returned to our places, these Kingdoms, / But no longer at ease here, in the old dispensation, / With an alien people clutching their gods. / I should be glad of another death. (Line 40 – 43). Their journey changed them irrevocably.
Many of us make difficult journeys. Some of us never leave our hometowns to come so far. The Kings made an epic life-changing journey. People with addictions, mental illness, and physical ailments are on a never-ending journey. These people fight everyday against their afflictions to live as normal a life as possible. Some of us are more fruitful in our journeys than others. We are all still changed by them.
Many of us make difficult journeys. Some of us never leave our hometowns to come so far. The Kings made an epic life-changing journey. People with addictions, mental illness, and physical ailments are on a never-ending journey. These people fight everyday against their afflictions to live as normal a life as possible. Some of us are more fruitful in our journeys than others. We are all still changed by them.
Clay by James Joyce
I looked up the word clay. It is defined as an earthy materiel that is plastic when moist but hard when fired. It also means fundamental nature or character. I thought it would be interesting to explore these definitions in relationship to this story.
The story begins with a common woman Maria, who has worked hard all her life. She was a governess and raised two boys. These two boys, Joe and Alphy were her life’s work. Joe was still very fond of Maria and invited her to gatherings at his home. He felt she was more of a mother to him than his own was. “Mamma is mamma but Maria is my proper mother.” (page 1134). Even with her lack of social class, Joe tried to include her in family events. Perhaps this is why he and Alphy were at odds. “Maria thought she would put in a good word for Alphy, But Joe cried that God might strike him stone dead if ever he spoke a word to his brother again.” (Page 1136) I think Joe became so overtly upset because Maria was defending someone who probably insulted her. The clay that Joyce speaks can be seen as a relationship. It is plastic and moldable depending on the need. When it hardens from firing, there is a bond that can stand a thousand uses without damage. This is the relationship between Joe and Maria. They are also from the same clay. Their character regardless of social class is admirable.
I believe people are made from many types of clay. Some mesh well and some do not. I do not mesh with a few individuals myself. This story has inspired me to make a better effort. If I want my fundamental nature to be an overall positive one, I must learn to appreciate their positive qualities. If I judge them for their mistakes then I must put my mistakes up to be judged. As uncomfortable as this will probably be, it will make me a better person. Joe was not afraid to befriend someone of a lower class than his own. His character is a good example we should follow.
The story begins with a common woman Maria, who has worked hard all her life. She was a governess and raised two boys. These two boys, Joe and Alphy were her life’s work. Joe was still very fond of Maria and invited her to gatherings at his home. He felt she was more of a mother to him than his own was. “Mamma is mamma but Maria is my proper mother.” (page 1134). Even with her lack of social class, Joe tried to include her in family events. Perhaps this is why he and Alphy were at odds. “Maria thought she would put in a good word for Alphy, But Joe cried that God might strike him stone dead if ever he spoke a word to his brother again.” (Page 1136) I think Joe became so overtly upset because Maria was defending someone who probably insulted her. The clay that Joyce speaks can be seen as a relationship. It is plastic and moldable depending on the need. When it hardens from firing, there is a bond that can stand a thousand uses without damage. This is the relationship between Joe and Maria. They are also from the same clay. Their character regardless of social class is admirable.
I believe people are made from many types of clay. Some mesh well and some do not. I do not mesh with a few individuals myself. This story has inspired me to make a better effort. If I want my fundamental nature to be an overall positive one, I must learn to appreciate their positive qualities. If I judge them for their mistakes then I must put my mistakes up to be judged. As uncomfortable as this will probably be, it will make me a better person. Joe was not afraid to befriend someone of a lower class than his own. His character is a good example we should follow.
Sunday, June 26, 2011
Love Sucks!
William Butler Yeats provides us a humorous take on Love. In speaking with a bishop, crazy Jane shares her opinion on the matter of love. “Those breasts are flat and fallen now / Those veins must soon be dry; / Live in a heavenly mansion, / Not in some foul sty.” (line 3 – 6). I think this is the bishop speaking. He is telling her that she is old and should be thinking about her salvation. She responds that she is old and there is no one else to take care of her. her friends have moved on or died. “My friends are gone, but that’s a truth, / nor grave nor bed denied.” (line 9 & 10). A woman has to do what she can to survive if a husband does not care for her. “A woman can be proud and stiff / when on love intent;” (line 13 & 14). A young woman can act in a lady- like manner to attract a husband. Jane is old so silly things like love do not matter to her. “But Love has pitched his mansion in / The place of excrement” (line 15 &16). Jane feels this love stuff is a pile of crap literally. She does not subscribe to the ideals of love anymore.
Perhaps this was written from years of unrequited love for Maude Gonne. Yeats wrote her many letters over 50 years and asked her to marry him. She did not return his affection. This poem was written later in his life and perhaps like many older people his tact button had worn down a bit. I feel sorry for anyone who does not have someone to share their life with. Love really is something that grows into something completely different. Love is fiery and powerful when a couple first marries that almost hurts, and places a pit of fear and excitement in your belly. After a few years, a dampened fire that warms you from the inside replaces this love. The huge flames can still be fanned to consume you and renew your passion. It brings a smile to your face, and peace replaces the pit of fear. After many years, that warm flame is more or less a single ember with more strength and power than a forest fire. Respect, admiration, and complete adoration replace the intense passion of the early years. A powerful and wonderful friendship blossoms between you. I learned this from observing my parents relationship over the last 40 years. This is the example I have to base my opinions. It is what I have experienced in my marriage of almost 18 years.
Perhaps this was written from years of unrequited love for Maude Gonne. Yeats wrote her many letters over 50 years and asked her to marry him. She did not return his affection. This poem was written later in his life and perhaps like many older people his tact button had worn down a bit. I feel sorry for anyone who does not have someone to share their life with. Love really is something that grows into something completely different. Love is fiery and powerful when a couple first marries that almost hurts, and places a pit of fear and excitement in your belly. After a few years, a dampened fire that warms you from the inside replaces this love. The huge flames can still be fanned to consume you and renew your passion. It brings a smile to your face, and peace replaces the pit of fear. After many years, that warm flame is more or less a single ember with more strength and power than a forest fire. Respect, admiration, and complete adoration replace the intense passion of the early years. A powerful and wonderful friendship blossoms between you. I learned this from observing my parents relationship over the last 40 years. This is the example I have to base my opinions. It is what I have experienced in my marriage of almost 18 years.
Chance
Life can sometimes be left up to chance. In his poem Hap, which means chance, Thomas Hardy writes about the misfortune chance can bring. Life can bring negative characters into our midst. The poor fellow speaking in the poem has come upon some unsavory characters in his travels.
The speaker in the poem says he could take strife better if it would God causing it. “Know that thy sorrow is my ecstacy, / That, thy love’s loss is my hate’s profiting! / Then would I bear it, clench myself, and die, “(line 3 – 5). He feels that if it would God’s vengeance causing him sorrow he would take it knowing that it was from a more powerful being than himself. He knows it is chance that has brought him this pain. “These purblind Doomsters had as readily strown / Blissses about my pilgrimage as pain.” (line 13 & 14). This poor traveler has come across some gamblers that treated him badly. “And dicing Time for gladness casts a moan” (line 12). He either gave into temptation and cannot pay his gambling debts. It is also possible he has come across unscrupulous characters that are taking advantage of him being in the wrong place at the wrong time. Whichever the case this man has not been dealt a fair hand by Chance.
Sometimes bad things happen to good people. In this poem that is what I think happened to the speaker. We see victims of crimes on the news daily. Crime is an unfortunate bedfellow for some, especially during an economic recession. People can be taken advantage of, just like this man in the poem.
The speaker in the poem says he could take strife better if it would God causing it. “Know that thy sorrow is my ecstacy, / That, thy love’s loss is my hate’s profiting! / Then would I bear it, clench myself, and die, “(line 3 – 5). He feels that if it would God’s vengeance causing him sorrow he would take it knowing that it was from a more powerful being than himself. He knows it is chance that has brought him this pain. “These purblind Doomsters had as readily strown / Blissses about my pilgrimage as pain.” (line 13 & 14). This poor traveler has come across some gamblers that treated him badly. “And dicing Time for gladness casts a moan” (line 12). He either gave into temptation and cannot pay his gambling debts. It is also possible he has come across unscrupulous characters that are taking advantage of him being in the wrong place at the wrong time. Whichever the case this man has not been dealt a fair hand by Chance.
Sometimes bad things happen to good people. In this poem that is what I think happened to the speaker. We see victims of crimes on the news daily. Crime is an unfortunate bedfellow for some, especially during an economic recession. People can be taken advantage of, just like this man in the poem.
Is There Nothing Worse Than Death?
Gerard Manley Hopkins writes about death in his poem No Worst, There is None. He speaks about death as if there is nothing worse. He focuses on the anguish and torment of death. He seeks the comforter and receives none. I think he may be referring to the death of Christ.
In the first line we are introduced to the author’s position on death. “No worst, there is none. Pitched past pitch of grief.” (line 1) The author is devastated beyond grief over his loss. What makes me think this poem may be about Christ is his reference to Mary. “Mary, mother of us, where is your relief?” (line 4). He talks about the importance of the person who died “My cries heave, herds-long. Huddle in a main, a chief / Woe, world-sorrow; on an age-old anvil wince and sing -.” (line 5 & 6). The death of Christ would be a world sorrow and an age old anvil.” This is something we celebrate each year. Easter is an important part of our religious culture. His death before his resurrection was horrible. This is especially horrific, because we were responsible for his death. Our sins put him there. It wasn’t just for the sinners two thousand years ago, it was for everyone, for eternity. Because of Christ’s sacrifice we are sentenced to death each time we sin. “Wretch, under a comfort serves in a whirlwind: all / Life death does end and each day dies with sleep. Each day we sleep, our sins are forgiven and the death sentence released. We are forgiven each day for our transgressions. Christ’s death was a beautiful sacrifice to save humanity from itself. I think there are plenty of worse things than Christ’s death. His death allows me to live.
Is there anything worse than death? I think there can be. What about the shell of a woman that used to be my grandmother, who does not know who her children are? She gets no enjoyment out of life. She sits in her chair trapped, in her head full of memories. She is nearly 90 years old and legally blind. There is no relief for her except death. The worst for her is that her body won’t give up what her mental faculties have abandoned over a year ago. How can death be terrible for her? Is having a beating heart really mean we are living? It pains me to see life and death torturing her. Life for making her continue in this emaciated way, and death for staying just out of reach from her. When God does take her home, I will not be crying tears of grief. Those tears will be from the joy of knowing she has been released from her prison and finally free.
In the first line we are introduced to the author’s position on death. “No worst, there is none. Pitched past pitch of grief.” (line 1) The author is devastated beyond grief over his loss. What makes me think this poem may be about Christ is his reference to Mary. “Mary, mother of us, where is your relief?” (line 4). He talks about the importance of the person who died “My cries heave, herds-long. Huddle in a main, a chief / Woe, world-sorrow; on an age-old anvil wince and sing -.” (line 5 & 6). The death of Christ would be a world sorrow and an age old anvil.” This is something we celebrate each year. Easter is an important part of our religious culture. His death before his resurrection was horrible. This is especially horrific, because we were responsible for his death. Our sins put him there. It wasn’t just for the sinners two thousand years ago, it was for everyone, for eternity. Because of Christ’s sacrifice we are sentenced to death each time we sin. “Wretch, under a comfort serves in a whirlwind: all / Life death does end and each day dies with sleep. Each day we sleep, our sins are forgiven and the death sentence released. We are forgiven each day for our transgressions. Christ’s death was a beautiful sacrifice to save humanity from itself. I think there are plenty of worse things than Christ’s death. His death allows me to live.
Is there anything worse than death? I think there can be. What about the shell of a woman that used to be my grandmother, who does not know who her children are? She gets no enjoyment out of life. She sits in her chair trapped, in her head full of memories. She is nearly 90 years old and legally blind. There is no relief for her except death. The worst for her is that her body won’t give up what her mental faculties have abandoned over a year ago. How can death be terrible for her? Is having a beating heart really mean we are living? It pains me to see life and death torturing her. Life for making her continue in this emaciated way, and death for staying just out of reach from her. When God does take her home, I will not be crying tears of grief. Those tears will be from the joy of knowing she has been released from her prison and finally free.
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