Contrast in "Breathing tips of Great American Beatboxes"

The most unambiguously good memory that Ben shares in Sag Harbor was from the chapter "Breathing tips of Great American Beatboxes."  He finds absolute peace and happiness among the crowd at the concert, after finally getting in to Bayside.  However, at the same time this chapter deals with his uncle's exile from his family that Ben sees as pure evil.  I really liked the juxtaposition of these two memories in one chapter, the contrast made each memory seem, in a way, more vivid.  This contrast is brought to the forefront by the way that Ben alternates between these two memories in his typical non-linear style.

    I didn't know anyone.  And it was ok.  Something good was about to happen.  I just had to wait.  Weird trendoids surrounded me, fearsome geezers, drugged out wackos, but now we were comrades.  We were all there for the same thing.  The DJ hovered above us, throwing down his thunderbolts.  He mixed in a segment of Debbie Harry singing "Rapture" and they screamed.  Actually, I decided, I'm not dancing that badly at all.  I thought, This is Good.  No qualifier, chaotic or otherwise. Simply: Good.
    I knew what Evil looked like. (263)

This passage describes with great clarity the capital "G" Good feeling that Ben experienced at the concert.  However, as alluded to at the end of this passage, it is directly follow by the details of Uncle Nelson's situation.  Ben's fond memory of the crowd at the U.T.F.O. concert is offset by his heart-wrenching memory of Uncle Nelson gazing longingly up at the house of his childhood.  The most striking part of Ben's memory is when Uncle Nelson tells the boys what his own father had said to him so many years ago.

Uncle Nelson said, "He told me, 'don't set foot in my house ever again.' So I'm not." I stared straight ahead.  "That doesn't mean I can't look, does it?" . . . The previous stops had been window-dressing.  This is where he wanted to be.  "I can look, right?" (266)

I found the juxtaposition of these two strong and contrasting memories very powerful, one the most good and the other the most evil.  I think that the reason these good and evil classifications seems so pure and strong is because of the stark contrast provided by Ben's non-linear narrative.  The resulting vividness of these memories made "Breathing tips of Great American Beatboxes" my favorite chapter in Sag Harbor. 

Jason in the Forest

There is one passage from the chapter "Knife Grinder" that really stands out to me as an important moment in Jason's coming of age. He has just run away from the other boys, who were playing war, because he knew that if they saw him they would gang up on him. He escapes to the woods and is finally alone to reflect on himself.

Picked-on kids act invisible to reduce the chances of being noticed and picked on. Stammerers act invisible to reduce the chances of being made to say something we can't. Kids whose parents argue act invisible in case we trigger another skirmish. The Triple Invisible Boy, that's Jason Taylor. Even I don't see the real Jason Taylor much these days, 'cept when we're writing a poem, or occasionally in a mirror, or just before sleep. But he comes out in the woods. (233-234)

This is the most directly that Jason ever talks about the way he acts differently from his true stuff because of those around him. He seems to think of this as an undesirable thing, but doesn't seem about to do anything about it. However, facing the problem himself instead of just being told it is a problem by Eva van Outryve de Crommelynck.  Jason certainly recognizes that he has a true self that he hides from the outside world: the Jason Taylor who writes poems and speaks in long poetic phrases.  This acknowledgement of the problem is the first step towards its solution.

Also in this passage, Jason mentions that his true self comes out in the woods, and in that situation it is more than just a fleeting glimpse of the true Jason Taylor.  I think this can be seen in a slight shift in the narrative voice following this passage.  In some cases, his phrases even rhyme, "First every kid labels me as a tragic case, now half the teachers'll think I'm a waste of space" (235).  He also gets much more philosophical, as can be seen when he encounters a bird.

A bird so near it might have perched on the curl of my ear musicked a flute in a jar.  I quivered to own such an unownable thing.  If I could've climbed into that moment, that jar, and never ever left, I would've done.  But my squatting calves were aching, so I moved.  The unownable bird took fright and vanished down its tunnel of twigs and nows. (234)

First of all, this passage starts with another lyrical, rhyming (near, ear) sentence.  Then, the real Jason Taylor, alone in the woods, contemplates the fleetingness of time and wishes to preserve the purity of his moment with the bird forever.  Although he is talking to the narrator, not friend or family member, I think that this shows how much more at peace the true Jason is, the Jason who doesn't have to worry about what other people think.

Sylvie

For me, one of the most memorable scenes in Housekeeping was when Sylvie walked out onto the railroad bridge for the first time.  This act, in my opinion, reveals more about her character than any description that Ruth has given us.  Because Ruth and Lucille are by the lake and spot her by chance, we learn something about how she spends her days.  From the way Sylvie speaks to Ruth and Lucille about it, this very dangerous act of walking out onto a railroad bridge is nothing special in her eyes.

    "I had no idea it was so late!" she called as we walked towards her. "I though it would be an hour or so until school was out."
    "School isn't out," Lucille said.
    "Well I was right after all, then.  The 1:35 just went through a little while ago so it must be pretty early still." (81-82)

He tone is very relaxed and matter of fact, as if she just expects the girls to be totally ok with what she just did; Sylvie herself is certainly unfazed by the danger.  However, it is not that she is suicidal or deliberately putting herself at risk: Sylvie knows the train schedules by heart and makes sure that she will not be on the bridge at the same time as a train.  That being said, Sylvie still does take this risk, and does not seem to give too much thought to the consequences of her actions.  This becomes apparent when Lucille asks why she would do such a thing.

    "What was it like?" Lucille asked.  Her voice was small and flat and tensely composed.
    Sylvie shrugged and laughed. "Cold. Windy."
    Lucille said, "You did it just to see what it was like?"
    "I suppose so."
    "What if you fell in?"
    "Oh," Sylvie said, "I was pretty careful."
    "If you fell in, everyone would think you did it on purpose," Lucille said. "Even us."
    Sylvie reflected a moment.  "I suppose that's true." She glanced down at Lucille's face.  "I didn't mean to upset you." (82)

Sylvie doesn't give the danger much thought, simply saying that she was careful.  She also is unable to explain to Lucille a good reason for taking this risk.  However, I for one believe Sylvie completely when she says that she didn't mean to upset the girls.  She is not used to being responsible for others, and seems to be considering for the first time what would have happened if she had slipped and fallen in.  Is Sylvie crazy for behaving this way?  Do actions like this make her unfit to be the guardian of Ruth and Lucille?  Lucille certainly seems to think so...

Joan's role in The Bell Jar

As we discussed briefly in class, Joan has a very interesting role in The Bell Jar.  In many ways she mirrors Esther as a character, she comes from a similar background, dates Buddy Willard, falls into depression, attempts suicide, and is admitted to a mental hospital.  However, there is one huge difference: near the end of the novel Joan attempts to take her own life again, and is successful.  I do not know if Joan is an alternate name for a real person in Silvia Plath's life or an invention for this novel, but Joan's purpose as a character is to fill a role that could not be filled by Esther.

A novel largely about depression and suicide would not be complete without examining the aftermath and tragedy of successful suicide.  Since Esther is the narrator and could not narrate past her own death and since Esther is modeled after Plath who had mostly recovered at the time of writing this novel, it would make no sense for Esther to commit suicide in this book.  Instead, we see Esther attend Joan's funeral.  I think that this funeral scene is crucial to the conclusion of the novel.

        At the altar the coffin loomed in its snow pallor of flowers—the black shadow of something that wasn't there. The faces in the pews around me were waxen with candlelight, and pine boughs, left over from Christmas, sent up a sepulchral incense in the cold air. . . .
        Then, behind the coffin and the flowers and the face of the minister and the faces of the mourners, I saw the rolling lawns of our town cemetery, knee-deep in snow now, with the tombstones rising out of it like smokeless chimneys.
        There would be a black, six-foot-deep gap hacked in the hard ground. That shadow would marry this shadow, and the peculiar, yellowish soil of our locality seal the wound in the whiteness, and yet another snowfall erase the traces of newness in Joan's grave.
        I took a deep breath and listened to the old brag of my heart.
        I am, I am, I am.

I think that in in this moment Esther comes to terms with the finality of death.   She sees the coffin containing her friend's body and the graveyard where it will be buried.  Her reaction when she faces the fact of her friend's suicide is to listen to her own heartbeat, the sound of her life.  I think that the line "I am, I am, I am" perfectly captures what Esther is listening for and hearing, the reassurance that she is still alive.

Plans

In The Bell Jar, Esther is very successful in school and recognizes the fact that she is expected to continue to excel in whatever career she chooses.  She also recognizes that she is expected to choose a path that does not "waste" her talents.  She usually has a ready to go answer for questions about her future, but when talking with Jay Cee she finds her self unable to give it.

What I always thought I had in mind was getting some big scholarship to graduate school or a grant to study all over Europe, and then I thought I'd be a professor and write books of poems or write books of poems and be an editor of some sort. Usually I had these plans on the tip of my tongue. 

"I don't really know," I heard myself say. I felt a deep shock, hearing myself say that, because the minute I said it, I knew it was true (32).

In this moment, Esther recognizes that she has only had these plans to satisfy adults who ask her what her future will be.  She herself, is unsure of what she wants to do, and this is just something that she could see herself doing that she knows would not be considered a "waste" of her talents.  It is not necessarily something she would even enjoy doing.  She seems to realize this in an instant and, instead of her usual response to such questions, answers Jay Cee truthfully.

Personally, I find this aspect of Esther's character the most relatable.  I can't really relate to the fashion stuff, or the poem writing, or being a woman in the 1950s.  However, I, and I think most people in this class, can relate to Esther's response to this common question adults ask us teenagers.  I tend to answer this sort of question in a similar way to Esther, giving a response that I think the listener want's to hear and that aligns with what I'm good at.  It certainly makes sense to pursue what you're good at because it means you'll have a better chance of success.  Also, I think that doing something you're good at is more enjoyable partly because you experience more success.  However, happiness is definitely not directly linked to success in the workplace, and the answers that adults approve of are not necessarily the best plans for the future.  I think it is totally ok and normal to not know what you want to do in 10 years, and it is not something that I think adults should disapprove of as happens in this book.

Why Trust Holden?

Holden Caulfield is a very unique narrator.  As established in the famous first line, he speaks directly to the reader, and is aware of the that fact during his narration. He also tells us quite frankly, "I'm the most terrific liar you ever saw in your life."  This statement, in the context of his awareness of the act of narration, calls in to question his reliability as a narrator.  However, I do not think I'm alone in feeling like I can trust Holden as a narrator.  I think this is partially because of the way he speaks his mind to us all the time and certainly doesn't hold back with his criticism of others.  In addition to criticizing others, he is also fairly self-deprecating.

I was sixteen then, and I'm seventeen now, and sometimes I act like I'm about thirteen. It's really ironical, because I'm six foot two and a half and I have gray hair. I really do. The one side of my head—the right side—is full of millions of gray hairs. I've had them ever since I was a kid. And yet I still act sometimes like I was only about twelve. Everybody says that, especially my father. It's partly true, too, but it isn't all true. People always think something's all true. I don't give a damn, except that I get bored sometimes when people tell me to act my age.

As a teenager, admitting to acting like you're twelve is pretty significant, as we teenagers generally look down on younger kids and their behavior.  Holden also calls himself a moron repeatedly while discussing his flunking out of school (again).  I think Holden's self-deprecation is part of what makes him likable as a narrator and easy to believe.  Holden can be quite harsh in his criticism, for example when he first tells us about Ackley.

He was one of these very, very tall, round-shouldered guys—he was about six four— with lousy teeth. The whole time he roomed next to me, I never even once saw him brush his teeth. They always looked mossy and awful, and he damn near made you sick if you saw him in the dining room with his mouth full of mashed potatoes and peas or something. Besides that, he had a lot of pimples. Not just on his forehead or his chin, like most guys, but all over his whole face. And not only that, he had a terrible personality. He was also sort of a nasty guy. I wasn't too crazy about him, to tell you the truth.

Hearing all of Holden's thoughts almost makes one feel like a co-conspirator of sorts, getting all the dirt on the people in Holden's life.  Also, he is criticizing pretty much every character in the book including himself, but does not criticize the reader, which, I think, endears him somewhat to the reader.  When I think about it logically, I have very little reason to trust what Holden tells us, but his familiar voice and understandable tiredness with the world around him lure the reader in.  Do you trust Holden as a narrator?  Is there a specific reason you trust/mistrust Holden?  I have had trouble identifying any specific reason as to why I feel like I can trust Holden's narration, but for some reason I do.

Stephen's Isolation

Through A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man by James Joyce, the central character, Stephen Daedalus, is an outsider.  However, by the end of the novel it is apparent that this is by choice instead of by any social inability he might possess.  In fact, he seems to see his self-enforced isolation as both a political statement and a prerequisite for becoming an "artist."  He seems to subscribe to the idea that art should be unbiased and therefore feels that he must separate himself from the subject of his art to ensure lack of bias.  For this reason, he rejects his friend Davin's efforts to make him an Irish nationalist.

—I'm an Irish nationalist, first and foremost. But that's you all out. You're a born sneerer, Stevie.—When you make the next rebellion with hurleysticks, said Stephen, and want the indispensable informer, tell me. I can find you a few in this college.
—I can't understand you, said Davin. One time I hear you talk against English literature. Now you talk against the Irish informers. What with your name and your ideas—Are you Irish at all?
—Come with me now to the office of arms and I will show you the tree of my family, said Stephen.
—Then be one of us, said Davin. Why don't you learn Irish? Why did you drop out of the league class after the first lesson?
—You know one reason why, answered Stephen.

Stephen is very critical of the idea of nationalism in this passage, despite the fact that he admits his heritage is Irish. It seems that he is not rejecting his background as much as he is separating himself from the influence of it, which confounds his nationalist friend. A few lines later, Stephen says, "This race and this country and this life produced me[.] I shall express myself as I am." He is not denying the fact that he was born in and molded by Ireland, but at the same time Stephen rejects further outside influence and desires to create his art without any other forces trying to change him.

Stephen's aloofness can also be seen when he refuses to sign MacCann's petition for universal peace.

—I am waiting for your answer, said MacCann briefly.
—The affair doesn't interest me in the least, said Stephen wearily. You know that well. Why do you make a scene about it?
—Good! said MacCann, smacking his lips. You are a reactionary, then?
—Do you think you impress me, Stephen asked, when you flourish your wooden sword?
—Metaphors! said MacCann bluntly. Come to facts.
Stephen blushed and turned aside. MacCann stood his ground and said with hostile humour:
—Minor poets, I suppose, are above such trivial questions as the question of universal peace.

In this scene, Stephen's rejection again seems ridiculous to others.  Why would someone not sign a petition for universal peace?  For Stephen, this is partly because of the imagery associated with the presentation of this petition, but I think mostly because signing would be indicative of the fact that Stephen has a political view.  Stephen's desire to be an artist without bias is so strong that he feels signing such an innocuous petition would show bias.  However, I think that his refusal to sign is also partially motivated by his pride and the opportunity to make a public statement about his self-imposed isolation from any outside influence in his quest to become an artist.