O'Brien states that the essence of a person remains the same. I would agree with that statement given certain qualifications. A person most certainly does not change when one considers the identity. However, if one considers the personality, the one part of a person that truly defines that person, that makes them different from anyone else in a sea of clones, then I would have to disagree. Who you are remains the same. What defines you changes with time.
O'Brien compares his fear of defying the playground bully with his fear of draft-dodging mockery when he received his draft notice. He attempts to state that, deep down, he is no different than he was when he was in the fourth grade. This isn't the part of him that remains unchanged. Sure, it's the same type of inability to act, but that part still changes. In the first example, the fear was more of a fear of injury. The second fear was of embarrassment. The type of fear is different, though he is still fearful. The first fear is something that can be fairly easily overcome, with time and growth. The second very few people can overcome, ever. In "In the Field," O'Brien tells us how he was the one who let Kiowa go under the muck. He describes himself without using his name, but illustrates himself frantically searching for the picture he lost during the attack. He was likely searching in order to keep himself busy, as a pleasant distraction, but he, as the narrator, states that he was doing so in case "something might finally be salvaged from all the waste" (173). As O'Brien tells his stories, he is really doing the same thing he was back in the field. He is searching through all of his stories, retelling them, in the hopes that something good might have come out of Vietnam. This search, in contrast to the former frantic search out of anger and guilt, is more exploratory, more purposeful. Where before he searched to save what little he had left, now he searches to find what he never had, even for what little is left of others, and possibly leave it for the future.
Having acknowledged that a good deal of similarity can be undone by purpose, I still maintain that O'Brien is right in the sense that his identity is unchanged. He discusses in the final chapter how he and his comrades kept the dead alive through stories. In the two detailed retellings and short return to the man he killed, O'Brien describes the characteristics and possible future of that person. The man's overall identity, that of a young Vietnamese soldier who would rather not be a soldier, remains unchanged. He's still the same person walking down the road, and in O'Brien's mind, he still is the same person walking right back down the road. Linda is unchanged, preserved in his mind, in his stories. Though what defines a person changes, who they are as a physical being does not. Rat Kiley slowly lost his mind, and Mary Anne vanished into the jungle. However, they remained Rat Kiley and Mary Anne regardless of where they went or what they did. No matter what kind of person one becomes, they are still essentially the same person. But their personalities change the definition of who they are. Tim O'Brien remains Tim O'Brien, but what is the definition of Tim O'Brien?
Response to "theteach":
Perhaps personality might not have been the best word for me to use, but I believe that one's preferences and actions can help define a person for a specific time frame, a specific purpose. People do change as time goes on, be it from one significant experience or several lesser experiences. Like words with multiple meanings, people can only be judged concretely in a specific context. Yet to analyze the overall word and its general connotation, all definitions must be analyzed. If, following your example, one was gregarious or retiring, it would help define who that person was at that time. But if the person reversed and became the opposite, that would change the temporary definition and add to the overall definition. By no means does one single personality define the person entirely, but all personalities taken together would roughly define them. Thus, one could use a personality only to define a solitary aspect of that person, in a specific context. In the end, you're still using the same word, with the same spelling. And like language, definition is not concrete all around the world. Definitions don't ever replace other definitions, they just add to what's already there. Therefore, personality partially defines a person in the sense that it offers a new definition, a new purpose and meaning.
Sunday, October 26, 2008
Friday, October 3, 2008
Group memoir: "Why I Write"
Why I Write - by Irene Gutowna Opdyke
When my country was invaded by the Germans and the Russians, my life changed. Many of my friends and neighbors died. Many others whom I never knew also died. Most of them died because they were not wanted by the Germans, and the Russians felt no different. I somehow managed to survive, despite all that I had gone through. Somehow I survived, and somehow I was able to save the lives of my friends. As "just a girl," I managed to save the lives of twelve people, in defiance of all of Germany, and I survived in defiance of all of Russia.
I do not write my story for myself. I risked my life for my friends and my country, and would have gladly died for them. I do not write so others can marvel at my accomplishments. After all, I was "just a girl" at the time, and really am not that much different than any other person who lived in Poland at that time. What makes me different is that I did what I felt was right, in spite of the odds and the consequences. And I write to tell you two things. First, there is no running from the past. All these things happened. This nightmare really happened, and it is my duty to remember all of it, and to tell you so that you may not forget what we are capable of doing to each other. Second, I write to remind you that you are always able to do something. Though what I did was but a drop in the ocean, it was still that drop. I still did what I believed in, and I always will. If you also do what is right, God willing, you will succeed. And there is no righteous deed that is worth so little as to not warrant doing. This is my will: to do right; to tell you; and to remember.
(P.S. The last line was taken from the end of the novel, page 265.)
When my country was invaded by the Germans and the Russians, my life changed. Many of my friends and neighbors died. Many others whom I never knew also died. Most of them died because they were not wanted by the Germans, and the Russians felt no different. I somehow managed to survive, despite all that I had gone through. Somehow I survived, and somehow I was able to save the lives of my friends. As "just a girl," I managed to save the lives of twelve people, in defiance of all of Germany, and I survived in defiance of all of Russia.
I do not write my story for myself. I risked my life for my friends and my country, and would have gladly died for them. I do not write so others can marvel at my accomplishments. After all, I was "just a girl" at the time, and really am not that much different than any other person who lived in Poland at that time. What makes me different is that I did what I felt was right, in spite of the odds and the consequences. And I write to tell you two things. First, there is no running from the past. All these things happened. This nightmare really happened, and it is my duty to remember all of it, and to tell you so that you may not forget what we are capable of doing to each other. Second, I write to remind you that you are always able to do something. Though what I did was but a drop in the ocean, it was still that drop. I still did what I believed in, and I always will. If you also do what is right, God willing, you will succeed. And there is no righteous deed that is worth so little as to not warrant doing. This is my will: to do right; to tell you; and to remember.
(P.S. The last line was taken from the end of the novel, page 265.)
Friday, September 26, 2008
Group Memoir: Quote Analysis
"People glorify all sorts of bravery except the bravery they might show on behalf of their nearest neighbors." -George Eliot
Often, people tend to ignore the person next to them. It's all about what one can obtain for oneself. Particularly, bravery is attributed to a willingness to oppose a great danger. That great danger, however, had better be caused by something powerful and mighty, say, a dragon or a whole army of elite soldiers or something fantastic like that. One might say that, the more ridiculous the odds are, the more stupid the decision, the braver the person. This doesn't often apply to people who do things in the name of others. Irene put her life on the line frequently to save her friends, who were facing the same threat of painful death. However, she did encounter many who did not particularly relish the thought of someone aiding the Jews due to the sentence given for doing so. They found it awfully stupid. Schulz, for example, helped her in her quest to aid the Jews without ever acknowledging what she was doing. Rather than support her, he merely aided her silently, as if reluctantly letting her do what she wanted to. Silent aid and occasional support and encouragement are two completely different things; the first suggests tolerance rather than the second's approval. Another significant example is when Irene goes to church for confession following her first night as Rugemer's mistress. Despite the fact that she was saving twelve human lives, the priest denied her absolution for the specific reason that she was committing a mortal sin. Given, he may have been following the rules, since adultery is a violation of the Ten Commandments, but there are certainly unstated qualifiers in that instruction. Furthermore, his response clearly shows an indifference to the stakes: "'They are Jews.' [...] 'Father, I cannot throw their lives away' [...] 'Then I cannot give you absolution'" (217). When a religious man can tell someone they're going to Hell for saving twelve people, that gives you an indication of just how little neighborly bravery is worth. Furthermore, her Jewish refugees frequently told her to turn them in, just because what she was doing was plain stupid. As modest and caring as it is to tell your friend not to risk her life for you and your family, when she is doing that I'd expect it to be appreciated. The problem is that, compared to the Polish resistance, which fought relentlessly against their conquerors, neighborly bravery seems almost pathetic. Fighting physically against incredible odds is bravery, especially when it is for one's country or for one's personal gain. However, self sacrifice is the worst way to gain glory. That doesn't seem to be bravery, just stupidity. Self-preservation, adherence to rules, and kindness are not excuses for failing to provide praise. They discourage that bravery, or at least allow that person to struggle alone, because in the end it does not seem to be a cause worth fighting for. If neighborly bravery was worth anything in the eyes of others, Irene would have had a little more encouragement than this.
Often, people tend to ignore the person next to them. It's all about what one can obtain for oneself. Particularly, bravery is attributed to a willingness to oppose a great danger. That great danger, however, had better be caused by something powerful and mighty, say, a dragon or a whole army of elite soldiers or something fantastic like that. One might say that, the more ridiculous the odds are, the more stupid the decision, the braver the person. This doesn't often apply to people who do things in the name of others. Irene put her life on the line frequently to save her friends, who were facing the same threat of painful death. However, she did encounter many who did not particularly relish the thought of someone aiding the Jews due to the sentence given for doing so. They found it awfully stupid. Schulz, for example, helped her in her quest to aid the Jews without ever acknowledging what she was doing. Rather than support her, he merely aided her silently, as if reluctantly letting her do what she wanted to. Silent aid and occasional support and encouragement are two completely different things; the first suggests tolerance rather than the second's approval. Another significant example is when Irene goes to church for confession following her first night as Rugemer's mistress. Despite the fact that she was saving twelve human lives, the priest denied her absolution for the specific reason that she was committing a mortal sin. Given, he may have been following the rules, since adultery is a violation of the Ten Commandments, but there are certainly unstated qualifiers in that instruction. Furthermore, his response clearly shows an indifference to the stakes: "'They are Jews.' [...] 'Father, I cannot throw their lives away' [...] 'Then I cannot give you absolution'" (217). When a religious man can tell someone they're going to Hell for saving twelve people, that gives you an indication of just how little neighborly bravery is worth. Furthermore, her Jewish refugees frequently told her to turn them in, just because what she was doing was plain stupid. As modest and caring as it is to tell your friend not to risk her life for you and your family, when she is doing that I'd expect it to be appreciated. The problem is that, compared to the Polish resistance, which fought relentlessly against their conquerors, neighborly bravery seems almost pathetic. Fighting physically against incredible odds is bravery, especially when it is for one's country or for one's personal gain. However, self sacrifice is the worst way to gain glory. That doesn't seem to be bravery, just stupidity. Self-preservation, adherence to rules, and kindness are not excuses for failing to provide praise. They discourage that bravery, or at least allow that person to struggle alone, because in the end it does not seem to be a cause worth fighting for. If neighborly bravery was worth anything in the eyes of others, Irene would have had a little more encouragement than this.
Saturday, September 6, 2008
Extremely Loud: discussion question 17
Oskar's use of the term "heavy boots" to describe his depression is pretty good. It conveys an image of dragging one's feet, which certainly helps the reader understand exactly how Oskar feels. However, the heavy boots are also what's holding him down. He refers to the birdseed shirt a couple times, and how he dislikes being in high places. Perhaps it can be interpreted that his boots are keeping him from rising above his current circumstances. Personally, as an article of clothing, boots can be put on and taken off by the wearer at will. I think that "heavy boots" does more than just convey an image, reminding the reader that Oskar is leaving said boots on his feet and not trying to take them off. He often remarks on how he prefers not to get heavy boots, but rarely works to lighten the load. Perhaps Oskar is donning his heavy boots because he has no idea what else to do. The depression may very well be self-induced, as are his bruises. It also suggests Oskar his dragging his feet through life, emphasizing that he is merely drifting around and not trying to move forward of his own will. In addition to commenting on Oskar's emotions, it acts as a symbol for the fact that Oskar is not trying to improve his situation, but merely accepting depression and struggling unnecessarily under the weight of his situation.
Responses to Comments:
In response to "juno":
I do believe that Oskar needs some time to get over his loss and face that loss. HOWEVER, it has been a year and he seems to be resisting any efforts, or at least not understanding any, to aid him in accepting his father's death. As for Oskar not taking off the heavy boots, I do not mean he keeps them on because he likes them. He believes that he knows how to remove them, and those around him are not helping him by pushing forward instead of staying behind a little longer. He feels the answer is in the past, not the future. Consider the segment about the Reservoir of Tears, and how he feels his mother should be adding to it. The journey is certainly for the purpose of him removing the boots, but also realizing that they must be removed with the help of others when the wearer is ready to take them off and leave them behind. Oskar needs to accept his situation first, which I feel is the purpose of his journey, before he can move on. He has been doing things on his own, thinking his boots can come off only if he does something special. He hasn't realized he can take his boots off whenever he wants. Finding that key alone will not unlock the shackles that are his boots.
In response to "ziggy":
See above response. As I stated above, I think Oskar is trying to stay back rather than move forward. He would prefer to watch those pictures in reverse of the man flying back up to the tower, coming home to him, being safe. I agree with your statements on pain, but I do believe that Oskar is not trying to take off the boots directly by his quest. It occurs because he feels that finding the key will let him find his father, who will let him remove the boots. He still keeps his father's last messages in his closet. He is trying to hold back in the past rather than advance into the future. That is why he goes to the graveyard at the end, to accept that his father is gone and that he must move forward with what he has now. In this respect he is, though he persists otherwise, not trying to remove his boots but rather let them come off in reverse.
In response to "kas43091":
I don't think the dead horse would mind much. As I said, he isn't trying to remove the boots because he's trying to get back to what happened before. He's not, in my mind, a pessimistic little twerp who brings down society when he's in a bad mood. However, he is not moving forward of his own accord. He is trying to hold back. Perfectly logical if it weren't for the fact that he can't go back. He plods forth for the key and believes the boots can come off then and only then. By finding out that the key does nothing for him, he realizes that he's had the answer to his problems all along. That, and getting Hawking's letter: "today is the day I've been waiting for." The key word is "waiting."
In response to "ssnickel":
Hadn't thought about him needing to keep the boots on until he learns his lesson. (not in the negative connotation, but literally until he understands what he has to do) Again, I feel that he is not trying to remove the boots directly because he thinks the key to his problems are, well, in that key. Though he is trying to "lighten his boots," he is still trying to lighten them only, not remove them. Now that I think of it, perhaps he feels that he has to have boots, that he cannot take them off. Perhaps taking off the boots signifies leaving behind this part of him. Maybe the journey was less of removing the boots than it was learning to accept the fact that they will always be heavy, and that he must learn to share his load with the others around him. Let the birds on the birdseed shirt help life him above his troubles, if you will, learn to trust in the birds.
In response to "zeus":
As I stated in the first response, he certainly needs the help of others. If he can't learn to accept help from others, he will never learn how to help himself. However, by the same token, he will not be small forever. Which is why, in my opinion, his removal of the boots could be viewed as a rite of passage. He should definitely accept the support of others, but should also try to take that support and use it to learn for himself how to solve his problems. One can say that he relied on his father to remove his heavy boots, and that is why he had such difficulty when his mother and Ron tried to help. It is why he was unable to help his mother.
In response to "tennis":
Yes, I also agree that mourning helps to remember the small details of his father. As I suggested above, perhaps removing the boots means leaving behind certain things and moving on. However, there are many ways to remember someone. I refer to the storage room and Oskar's attempts to save a disposable razor. While it certainly holds value to Oskar, he has to find other ways to keep his father with him. Perhaps the visit to the graveyard is representative of a shift from clinging to material objects towards a more, how do I word this, not spiritual, but yeah, some sort of acceptance of his father's death and knowing he'll always be with him in other ways. Oskar needs to mature past the material objects, past the heavy boots, and find other ways of both remembering his father and enjoying the rest of his life.
Responses to Comments:
In response to "juno":
I do believe that Oskar needs some time to get over his loss and face that loss. HOWEVER, it has been a year and he seems to be resisting any efforts, or at least not understanding any, to aid him in accepting his father's death. As for Oskar not taking off the heavy boots, I do not mean he keeps them on because he likes them. He believes that he knows how to remove them, and those around him are not helping him by pushing forward instead of staying behind a little longer. He feels the answer is in the past, not the future. Consider the segment about the Reservoir of Tears, and how he feels his mother should be adding to it. The journey is certainly for the purpose of him removing the boots, but also realizing that they must be removed with the help of others when the wearer is ready to take them off and leave them behind. Oskar needs to accept his situation first, which I feel is the purpose of his journey, before he can move on. He has been doing things on his own, thinking his boots can come off only if he does something special. He hasn't realized he can take his boots off whenever he wants. Finding that key alone will not unlock the shackles that are his boots.
In response to "ziggy":
See above response. As I stated above, I think Oskar is trying to stay back rather than move forward. He would prefer to watch those pictures in reverse of the man flying back up to the tower, coming home to him, being safe. I agree with your statements on pain, but I do believe that Oskar is not trying to take off the boots directly by his quest. It occurs because he feels that finding the key will let him find his father, who will let him remove the boots. He still keeps his father's last messages in his closet. He is trying to hold back in the past rather than advance into the future. That is why he goes to the graveyard at the end, to accept that his father is gone and that he must move forward with what he has now. In this respect he is, though he persists otherwise, not trying to remove his boots but rather let them come off in reverse.
In response to "kas43091":
I don't think the dead horse would mind much. As I said, he isn't trying to remove the boots because he's trying to get back to what happened before. He's not, in my mind, a pessimistic little twerp who brings down society when he's in a bad mood. However, he is not moving forward of his own accord. He is trying to hold back. Perfectly logical if it weren't for the fact that he can't go back. He plods forth for the key and believes the boots can come off then and only then. By finding out that the key does nothing for him, he realizes that he's had the answer to his problems all along. That, and getting Hawking's letter: "today is the day I've been waiting for." The key word is "waiting."
In response to "ssnickel":
Hadn't thought about him needing to keep the boots on until he learns his lesson. (not in the negative connotation, but literally until he understands what he has to do) Again, I feel that he is not trying to remove the boots directly because he thinks the key to his problems are, well, in that key. Though he is trying to "lighten his boots," he is still trying to lighten them only, not remove them. Now that I think of it, perhaps he feels that he has to have boots, that he cannot take them off. Perhaps taking off the boots signifies leaving behind this part of him. Maybe the journey was less of removing the boots than it was learning to accept the fact that they will always be heavy, and that he must learn to share his load with the others around him. Let the birds on the birdseed shirt help life him above his troubles, if you will, learn to trust in the birds.
In response to "zeus":
As I stated in the first response, he certainly needs the help of others. If he can't learn to accept help from others, he will never learn how to help himself. However, by the same token, he will not be small forever. Which is why, in my opinion, his removal of the boots could be viewed as a rite of passage. He should definitely accept the support of others, but should also try to take that support and use it to learn for himself how to solve his problems. One can say that he relied on his father to remove his heavy boots, and that is why he had such difficulty when his mother and Ron tried to help. It is why he was unable to help his mother.
In response to "tennis":
Yes, I also agree that mourning helps to remember the small details of his father. As I suggested above, perhaps removing the boots means leaving behind certain things and moving on. However, there are many ways to remember someone. I refer to the storage room and Oskar's attempts to save a disposable razor. While it certainly holds value to Oskar, he has to find other ways to keep his father with him. Perhaps the visit to the graveyard is representative of a shift from clinging to material objects towards a more, how do I word this, not spiritual, but yeah, some sort of acceptance of his father's death and knowing he'll always be with him in other ways. Oskar needs to mature past the material objects, past the heavy boots, and find other ways of both remembering his father and enjoying the rest of his life.
Thursday, September 4, 2008
Switchover: On to AP Language!
From this point forward, my AP Lit blog becomes my AP Lang blog. Therefore, do not go any farther into the past than this point if you're looking for AP Language posts. Just a notice...
Thursday, May 22, 2008
Passage Analysis -Comedy
I'd say Shrew's Introduction deserves a look at. In summary, the drunk Sly ends up falling asleep (drunk) outside a bar, where a lord comes and pulls a prank on him, telling him when he wakes he's a rich nutty noble. Now firstly, I'd like to point out that the same technique was used in Midsummer Night: a play within a play. Now, the shorter bit last time was the play in a play, Bottom's screwy tale. This time the shorter bit is the "reality," and the play in a play is the story. However, the point remains that there is still a story in a story. Bottom's interlude played its part, as it were, as does Sly's little tale. Considering the constant motif of secrecy and disguise, I'd say it's got its own hidden meaning. Sly is being presented a play in which a shrew is made a proper wife, and a proper wife is revealed to be a shrew. Well, I'd say the shrew made to a proper wife describes Sly, and the proper wife to a shrew is the lord. Why? Well, if I were a proper lord, I wouldn't consider it very lordly to screw with the minds of drunks. Sounds like a high school prank more than a bit of good mannered fun. Sly is now being slowly changed into a right nobleman. Or is he? Really, the lord is no different than he was before, nor is Sly. Is Kate going to remain exceedingly weak and mild-mannered? Heck, no, I'm half-thinking if Petruchio let her she'd drift right back to being outspoken, though more obedient in the end. Plus, I doubt that Bianca is that much worse than Kate. She might be independent, but she's a little more considerate and isn't as likely to fly off the hook. Point? The lord isn't that lordly and never was, he's a bit of a prankster at heart, and Sly is a drunk through and through, nothing to change that ever, not robes nor manners. He'll act the part soon, but revert back to a moron as soon as the jig's up.
Now back to the point of this...There's plenty of reasons why this is being included. One is the above. Secondly, the lord is only dressing Sly properly. He is not changing his personality or mannerisms. Outward appearance is nothing, echoed by Tranio and Petruchio's actions. Also, Bianca's "hidden" personality. At first glance, you'd be well fooled, but spend any amount of time around Sly or the others and you'd have them figured out fast. Also, the thought of things not as they seem to be could be applied to Shakespeare's work itself. He could have left this out, and the above message could still be obtained. Why stress again all is not as it seems? This is a play within a play. Sly is being given a play to mock him. Perhaps the play can be taken as mocking those that would marry solely for personality, or outward appearance? Perhaps he really doesn't want, nor think it possible, for women to echo Kate's final speech? By the way, that question's rhetorical, I really do think Shakespeare's playing games with us, as the lord did to Sly. Shakespeare is not glorying women like Kate. He mocks men like Lucentio and the fact that Petruchio went to such lengths to brag about his wife. The lord is going through very little effort to mock the simple Sly. And he mocks him for his idiotic pursuits and desires which are far out of his reach. The purpose of this intro is to stress that we cannot merely assume the outward appearance is true, and also to never think that our personal desires should be reality. We must think of what reality is and mend our dreams to a reasonable objective, and know that not everything will go our way.
Now back to the point of this...There's plenty of reasons why this is being included. One is the above. Secondly, the lord is only dressing Sly properly. He is not changing his personality or mannerisms. Outward appearance is nothing, echoed by Tranio and Petruchio's actions. Also, Bianca's "hidden" personality. At first glance, you'd be well fooled, but spend any amount of time around Sly or the others and you'd have them figured out fast. Also, the thought of things not as they seem to be could be applied to Shakespeare's work itself. He could have left this out, and the above message could still be obtained. Why stress again all is not as it seems? This is a play within a play. Sly is being given a play to mock him. Perhaps the play can be taken as mocking those that would marry solely for personality, or outward appearance? Perhaps he really doesn't want, nor think it possible, for women to echo Kate's final speech? By the way, that question's rhetorical, I really do think Shakespeare's playing games with us, as the lord did to Sly. Shakespeare is not glorying women like Kate. He mocks men like Lucentio and the fact that Petruchio went to such lengths to brag about his wife. The lord is going through very little effort to mock the simple Sly. And he mocks him for his idiotic pursuits and desires which are far out of his reach. The purpose of this intro is to stress that we cannot merely assume the outward appearance is true, and also to never think that our personal desires should be reality. We must think of what reality is and mend our dreams to a reasonable objective, and know that not everything will go our way.
Passage Analysis -History
For Richard III, I'll analyze the first speech by Richard at the start of the play. One of the interesting things done in this passage is Richard's descriptive and in-depth discussion of the setting. He tells us specifically that it was absolutely god-awful terrible before, but now it's absolutely fantastic, happiest it's ever been. However, Richard's an ugly duck, and couldn't get a date to save his life. (not without some crafty double-talk) He can't enjoy the peace and prosperity without being constantly reminded, "DARN, I'm ugly!" Therefore, he's going to be a real SOB and make everyone miserable.
Overall, this helps to show us early on just how corrupt and terrible Richard is. A fantastic peace has just rolled in, and everyone's having a terrific party. But he's not happy so he's going to screw it all up. So he feels better knowing everyone's as miserable as he is. He is directly opposed to the peace, the merriment, the good things in life. He just about makes himself the nemesis of all goodness right then and there. You are supposed to hate this guy from the start. And he tells you why, so you don't have any questions as to whether or not there's a shave of goodness somewhere in that black pit of his heart. Shakespeare obviously is trying to make a point here. Few characters would need to be defined as pure evil. Perhaps for the purpose of the play, we shouldn't have any doubts, stressing the deviation from history that makes the play fiction based on truth. Shakespeare wouldn't need to do this otherwise, as the audience would know what to expect if the real Rich III was that bad.
And right from the beginning, Rich is attempting to work his magic on us. He doesn't have a choice in the matter, he couldn't be a good guy even if he wanted to. This is all he's got left...boohoo... Yeah, right. Considering how he sweet-talked his way around later, I doubt his plight in the beginning made any sense. He's playing the audience from the start. Shakespeare is stressing the fact that this guy is a tricky, sneaky, double talking jerk, and doing it for a reason. From the start he's lying to us. From the start he's trying to get us on his side. Perhaps Shakespeare is trying to tell us that one must always be on our guard, because evil is against us from the very beginning to the very end. Also, would we have trusted him as well, had he not told us his plans? Maybe Shakespeare is giving us insight into the mind of an evil politician because we can rarely distinguish between good and evil ourselves. We can view things objectively, and we know who the real problem is. Had the opening stopped before he stated he would "prove the villain," we might have felt sorry for him, and been shocked when he executed Clarence. Perhaps the point is: can we always know what people are thinking?
Overall, this helps to show us early on just how corrupt and terrible Richard is. A fantastic peace has just rolled in, and everyone's having a terrific party. But he's not happy so he's going to screw it all up. So he feels better knowing everyone's as miserable as he is. He is directly opposed to the peace, the merriment, the good things in life. He just about makes himself the nemesis of all goodness right then and there. You are supposed to hate this guy from the start. And he tells you why, so you don't have any questions as to whether or not there's a shave of goodness somewhere in that black pit of his heart. Shakespeare obviously is trying to make a point here. Few characters would need to be defined as pure evil. Perhaps for the purpose of the play, we shouldn't have any doubts, stressing the deviation from history that makes the play fiction based on truth. Shakespeare wouldn't need to do this otherwise, as the audience would know what to expect if the real Rich III was that bad.
And right from the beginning, Rich is attempting to work his magic on us. He doesn't have a choice in the matter, he couldn't be a good guy even if he wanted to. This is all he's got left...boohoo... Yeah, right. Considering how he sweet-talked his way around later, I doubt his plight in the beginning made any sense. He's playing the audience from the start. Shakespeare is stressing the fact that this guy is a tricky, sneaky, double talking jerk, and doing it for a reason. From the start he's lying to us. From the start he's trying to get us on his side. Perhaps Shakespeare is trying to tell us that one must always be on our guard, because evil is against us from the very beginning to the very end. Also, would we have trusted him as well, had he not told us his plans? Maybe Shakespeare is giving us insight into the mind of an evil politician because we can rarely distinguish between good and evil ourselves. We can view things objectively, and we know who the real problem is. Had the opening stopped before he stated he would "prove the villain," we might have felt sorry for him, and been shocked when he executed Clarence. Perhaps the point is: can we always know what people are thinking?
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