Fear has the capacity to paralyze the masses. A single person might speak out, but the general populous is slow to rouse. Strength in numbers may eventually overwhelm a tyrant, but if those numbers never materialize, the people will not take action. And if the tyrant moves the masses for his own purposes, his followers will overrun those who understand the truth. Unless there is a general agreement among the majority of the society, and preferably the situation becomes one of life or death, a tyrant will not be overthrown by his or her subjects.
There have been attempts by single people to overthrow a government. However, smaller numbers of people can move to action faster than the entire society. Secret societies are often formed from the percent of the population that would, by nature, always resist the tyrant regardless of the situation. If this number was, say, 15%, there would be an equal amount on the other side of the political fence that would always support the tyrant for whatever reasons. The central 70% must be won over, but it is extremely difficult to persuade two-thirds of the population over the opposition. It is much easier to act alone, but this will not cause the masses to move in unison. Several times in history, the assassination of a dictator has been met with indifference; after all, another would soon take his place, and their condition does not change. The masses are generally provoked, over time, to either support or oppose the tyrant, but to provoke them to rebel is another extreme case entirely.
In Animal Farm, the animals agree to rebel against mankind at one time or another. This was a decision supported by all present. When Jones failed to feed the animals, and then drove them from their food by whip, the starved animals reacted through instinct. To secure food to survive and to drive away the common threat, the animals together removed Jones from power. This supports the fact that a coup only occurs with prior agreement and in critical situations. When Napoleon took control, the situations may have been critical, but there was no general consensus to overthrow Napoleon. No animal could offer a solid reason; no common irritation existed. The sheep, seeing no overt act of tyranny, continued to bleat slogans, as did Boxer. And between the two of them, no one rose to challenge the pigs, who tactfully silenced any single individual who spoke out. Additionally, at the mass execution, there was no objection, even though the situation had become life or death, because the remainder of the animals had not agreed to overthrow Napoleon. They may have been shaken, but certainly weren’t moved into action.
1984 also shows an occasion where no general impetus exists to remove a tyrant. Individuals committed crimes, but the general masses quietly obeyed Big Brother regardless of what was said. Conditions may have been poor, but they were not life or death so long as the rules were followed. The proles could never be united against the Party; they had no reason to. Thus, tyrants are capable of remaining in power so long as they keep their subjects in their control. If the masses are not allowed to agree to overthrow the leader, they will never do so with a concerted effort. With careful statements and strategic assassinations, the tyrant can prevent a general consensus against him and ensure that, perhaps even in a life or death situation, he will find no great opposition.
Thursday, January 15, 2009
Sunday, November 30, 2008
1984 - About THE BOOK
"Goldstein's" book, really written by O'Brien, was exceedingly peculiar. It was allegedly written by Goldstein, who opposed the Party, yet seemed to define a good deal of what Ingsoc was. The arguments were surprisingly coherent and logical, though lengthy and a tad boring. Two chapters of the book were detailed in the novel. And since it was really O'Brien who wrote it, is this therefore expressive of the Party's beliefs, or is it something completely different altogether?
Chapter 3 of the book seemed to explain how things came to be, to expand the setting beyond London to the state of world affairs that held constant ever since the Cold War began. Essentially, the war was a conflict between Oceania, the United States, and Eurasia, the Soviet Union. The Cold War seems to have split the world up into only two superpowers, perhaps a remark on the nature of the Cold War and both superpowers' aggressive interference in foreign nations. This erupted into an atomic war in the 1950's, another fear of the people at that time, which led to the creation of three supernations that could never destroy each other. "Goldstein" then argues that continued, vicious warfare, though without purpose or end, could be the solution to civilization. He argues that equality for all would cause the elimination of a power caste, and to give wealth to one group would result in a collapse of power; the only solution was to engage in continuous warfare to throw away goods while keeping the people's attention. Though the logic is reasonable, the application to the real world is slightly peculiar. This required that there be only a couple superpowers, all of which agreeing to reduce their countries to a pitiful existence barely above the limit at which humans could exist. This doesn't sound like Communism, but rather a reason to promote a dictator. This foreshadows O'Brien's later claim to power and corruption.
Meanwhile, Chapter 1 discusses how equality would not be beneficial to the society. By keeping a rich upper class and a severe restriction of freedoms, the "pendulum of history" could be "frozen" at a specific point in time. "Goldstein" argues that "inequality was the price of civilization," but then decries past dictators as "half-hearted" attempts at totalitarianism. Again, the book seems to be supporting O'Brien's later claims in the Ministry of Love. Also explained is why the Party exists, which apparently is because the wealthy upper class can more easily hold the majority of Oceania's goods if they're sharing them all. "Goldstein" also tries to explain that the Party will never fall, and discusses crimestop, blackwhite, and doublethink. Winston can't help thinking that the book only tells him what he already knew, what he had already been taught; in fact, several passages, I believe, were cut-and-pasted from earlier chapters in the novel. This repetition doubly stresses the peculiarity of such an allegedly offensive book.
When I first read this, I knew that something was off. This perhaps made the Party seem incredibly offensive, but it explained exactly what the Party was doing. It was pure propaganda written by O'Brien, a school textbook, even. Such echoes of power and authority, and a deep description of doublethink and its various forms seem to be persuading one that the Party is, in fact, perfect. The underlining of Oceania's everlasting, eternal condition suggests to the reader that there is nothing they could do to stop the Party, and explains how one should act while a part of it. Already O'Brien was trying to ingrain the Party philosophy into the minds of Winston and Julia; perhaps the time limit for reading the book was to get them to read it before the Party made them disappear. Undoubtedly this was an honest description of the Party, and to have it written under Goldstein's name could be yet another example of doublethink. The importance of the book within the book, I feel, was to have O'Brien explain to the reader more clearly the what and how so that he could explain the why during interrogation and confession. The book, in context to Winston, was solely to glorify the Party and begin to transform Winston into a loyal Party member once more.
Chapter 3 of the book seemed to explain how things came to be, to expand the setting beyond London to the state of world affairs that held constant ever since the Cold War began. Essentially, the war was a conflict between Oceania, the United States, and Eurasia, the Soviet Union. The Cold War seems to have split the world up into only two superpowers, perhaps a remark on the nature of the Cold War and both superpowers' aggressive interference in foreign nations. This erupted into an atomic war in the 1950's, another fear of the people at that time, which led to the creation of three supernations that could never destroy each other. "Goldstein" then argues that continued, vicious warfare, though without purpose or end, could be the solution to civilization. He argues that equality for all would cause the elimination of a power caste, and to give wealth to one group would result in a collapse of power; the only solution was to engage in continuous warfare to throw away goods while keeping the people's attention. Though the logic is reasonable, the application to the real world is slightly peculiar. This required that there be only a couple superpowers, all of which agreeing to reduce their countries to a pitiful existence barely above the limit at which humans could exist. This doesn't sound like Communism, but rather a reason to promote a dictator. This foreshadows O'Brien's later claim to power and corruption.
Meanwhile, Chapter 1 discusses how equality would not be beneficial to the society. By keeping a rich upper class and a severe restriction of freedoms, the "pendulum of history" could be "frozen" at a specific point in time. "Goldstein" argues that "inequality was the price of civilization," but then decries past dictators as "half-hearted" attempts at totalitarianism. Again, the book seems to be supporting O'Brien's later claims in the Ministry of Love. Also explained is why the Party exists, which apparently is because the wealthy upper class can more easily hold the majority of Oceania's goods if they're sharing them all. "Goldstein" also tries to explain that the Party will never fall, and discusses crimestop, blackwhite, and doublethink. Winston can't help thinking that the book only tells him what he already knew, what he had already been taught; in fact, several passages, I believe, were cut-and-pasted from earlier chapters in the novel. This repetition doubly stresses the peculiarity of such an allegedly offensive book.
When I first read this, I knew that something was off. This perhaps made the Party seem incredibly offensive, but it explained exactly what the Party was doing. It was pure propaganda written by O'Brien, a school textbook, even. Such echoes of power and authority, and a deep description of doublethink and its various forms seem to be persuading one that the Party is, in fact, perfect. The underlining of Oceania's everlasting, eternal condition suggests to the reader that there is nothing they could do to stop the Party, and explains how one should act while a part of it. Already O'Brien was trying to ingrain the Party philosophy into the minds of Winston and Julia; perhaps the time limit for reading the book was to get them to read it before the Party made them disappear. Undoubtedly this was an honest description of the Party, and to have it written under Goldstein's name could be yet another example of doublethink. The importance of the book within the book, I feel, was to have O'Brien explain to the reader more clearly the what and how so that he could explain the why during interrogation and confession. The book, in context to Winston, was solely to glorify the Party and begin to transform Winston into a loyal Party member once more.
Sunday, October 26, 2008
The Things They Carried - Passage Qualification
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.
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.
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...
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)