This is the last week of summer and I am starting training at a new job while still working my old job and about to go away for my cousin's wedding, SO! before Jane gets lost in the shuffle I want to put out an unfinished post I had stewing around.
I've been thinking a lot about escapism since I started reading Austen. Deresiewicz writes about how non-escapist Austen was in her own writing. She didn't write Gothic romance, though she appreciated that genre: she wrote about women's lives as they were for ladies in small English countries. With her narrow focus, rooted in a context she knew intimately, she revealed universal human truths. People weren't running around Europe, getting locked up in ruined castles. They were talking with their neighbors, falling in love, and going to dances.
But even if her novels were anti-escapist for her time, they are escapes for me now. I don't have a grasp of where my place in the world is, and a world where men of a certain status had the choice of lawyer, clergy, soldier, or sailor seems kinda nice. Her life was so different from mine that I want to escape into her novels, and I don't think this is uncommon. This new movie Austenland seems to tap into that, though I haven't seen it; modern day women go to a Jane Austen theme park to dress up and hope to find their own happy ending. And her novels were escapes for men in the trenches during WWI.
Which would lead me to...
Rudyard Kipling...Science Fiction, romance, pulp/trash...criticism against escapism sort of lame, and I don't mean "escapist" in a negative way. I recognize my reality in Austen reality, but the customs are so different...What does it mean, this word "escapist"? A blogger on romance fiction says: "I’ve always pushed back against the idea that romance is escapist in a “special” way. But that’s probably because of the way I define the word. For me, romance is no more (or less) escapist than many other activities I engage in. We act as if we all know what we mean when we invoke the term, but I’m not sure we’re defining it the same way. I would define it, in this discussion, as a cognitive activity that takes my mind to a different place from its everyday life and provides different types of stimulation, comfort, and/or cognitive stretching. Using that definition, music is an escape (both listening and playing). My scholarly research can be an escape from the modern world."
Escaping into fiction: healthier than drugs or alcohol, but not as easy.
I never got around to finishing that post, once I realized what a loaded term "escapist" was.
Showing posts with label William Deresiewicz. Show all posts
Showing posts with label William Deresiewicz. Show all posts
Monday, August 26, 2013
Saturday, June 15, 2013
1. People can change
Ok, so I went into Mansfield Park knowing nothing. I was surprised by the differences in heroine (poor; physically weak; shy) and the severity of her surrounding friends and relations (cruel, or at the least negligent; crude; condescending; and cynical towards tradition and religion). Coming off of P&P, where the initially unlikeable character turns out to be one of the best people around, I pretty much expected that the immoral characters would redeem themselves. I didn't necessarily want this to happen, but I expected it to.
But I was surprised that the characters who were charming and morally bankrupt stayed that way, and subsequently lived out the consequences of their choices. The Crawfords surprised and fascinated me, as they are meant to. When I read Deresiewicz's chapter on MP, I was happy to see him link Mary C with Elizabeth Bennet, because I struggled with their similarities. Early on in MP, I thought that but for a slight difference, Mary Crawford could be the heroine of the novel. She was lively, charming, and clever--like Elizabeth Bennet. It's difficult not to like her. She's much more fun than Fanny. But she lacked Elizabeth's sincerity. Like I wrote a few weeks ago; Elizabeth said she hoped never to laugh at what was wise and good. Mary Crawford, on the other hand, does just that, mocking the Navy, the church, and her male relations, which was risque.
Maybe she didn't have a serious problem with the church or the taboo against premarital sex; but her instinct is to mock. Edmund sort of defends her by saying her mind isn't evil, but her words are. Mary doesn't examine her actions, but relies on what fashionable society has taught her to think. This inability to use her sharp intellect to examine her own mind is what stunts her love life, and therefore her destiny. When I heard one of my favorite satirical songs about wealth, fame, and society's flashy ideas of success the other day, it reminded me of Mary Crawford:
"I don't know what's right and what's real anymore. I don't know how I'm meant to feel anymore."
In The Madwoman in the Attic, Sandra Gilbert and Susan Gubar argue that Mary is an example of a woman trying to use her creativity to live life on her terms, and is punished by the patriarchy for her attempt. I don't have my own grasp on their take on Austen, though I'm sure it is very intelligent and well-thought out. Some of their interpretations of Austen's heroines are troubling to me, but I need to think more about it. But right off the bat, I don't agree that Mary's flaw is her inability to be passive; I think it's her insincerity.
And that about MP really surprised me: when the Crawfords appeared to be changing for the better, it turned out they were only faking it. They were playing a part, and Austen had been showing us throughout the entire novel how adept they were at acting and seducing. Really, we had no reason to expect anything better from them, except for our own hopefulness and the way we've been indoctrinated that characters can undergo a miraculous transformation from rakes to upright citizens.
And Fanny saw this, and stuck to her guns. She could call a spade a spade, and even when I expected her to accept the Crawford Charm in the end, she never did. She held out for her ideal and was rewarded in the end. She didn't give into the pressure from the patriarchy or even the awareness of her own unstable situation. That's pretty strong.
MP was harsher than I expected, and I appreciated it more for that.
But I was surprised that the characters who were charming and morally bankrupt stayed that way, and subsequently lived out the consequences of their choices. The Crawfords surprised and fascinated me, as they are meant to. When I read Deresiewicz's chapter on MP, I was happy to see him link Mary C with Elizabeth Bennet, because I struggled with their similarities. Early on in MP, I thought that but for a slight difference, Mary Crawford could be the heroine of the novel. She was lively, charming, and clever--like Elizabeth Bennet. It's difficult not to like her. She's much more fun than Fanny. But she lacked Elizabeth's sincerity. Like I wrote a few weeks ago; Elizabeth said she hoped never to laugh at what was wise and good. Mary Crawford, on the other hand, does just that, mocking the Navy, the church, and her male relations, which was risque.
Maybe she didn't have a serious problem with the church or the taboo against premarital sex; but her instinct is to mock. Edmund sort of defends her by saying her mind isn't evil, but her words are. Mary doesn't examine her actions, but relies on what fashionable society has taught her to think. This inability to use her sharp intellect to examine her own mind is what stunts her love life, and therefore her destiny. When I heard one of my favorite satirical songs about wealth, fame, and society's flashy ideas of success the other day, it reminded me of Mary Crawford:
"I don't know what's right and what's real anymore. I don't know how I'm meant to feel anymore."
In The Madwoman in the Attic, Sandra Gilbert and Susan Gubar argue that Mary is an example of a woman trying to use her creativity to live life on her terms, and is punished by the patriarchy for her attempt. I don't have my own grasp on their take on Austen, though I'm sure it is very intelligent and well-thought out. Some of their interpretations of Austen's heroines are troubling to me, but I need to think more about it. But right off the bat, I don't agree that Mary's flaw is her inability to be passive; I think it's her insincerity.
And that about MP really surprised me: when the Crawfords appeared to be changing for the better, it turned out they were only faking it. They were playing a part, and Austen had been showing us throughout the entire novel how adept they were at acting and seducing. Really, we had no reason to expect anything better from them, except for our own hopefulness and the way we've been indoctrinated that characters can undergo a miraculous transformation from rakes to upright citizens.
And Fanny saw this, and stuck to her guns. She could call a spade a spade, and even when I expected her to accept the Crawford Charm in the end, she never did. She held out for her ideal and was rewarded in the end. She didn't give into the pressure from the patriarchy or even the awareness of her own unstable situation. That's pretty strong.
MP was harsher than I expected, and I appreciated it more for that.
Thursday, May 9, 2013
"Very little is needed to make a happy life"
...reads a fortune cookie I got after dinner with Christopher. That night is a good example of the cookie's maxim. We were off and we had enough money to enjoy a good dinner out. I was so happy to be out with Christopher I was giddy. We returned to the first restaurant where we ate when Christopher first moved to Chicago. I ordered a Pink Lady 'cause there are worse things I could do, but quickly realized I would've preferred a vodka stinger. However, that was a minor disappointment, something that only provided contrast to the fun of dinner out: overhearing conversations, watching the characters that came in; the jacket he wore and was she out with her mother dressed like that? Not to mention the food! But what I really took away from the evening was the fortune cookie that told me what I needed to hear: "Very little is needed." Just the basics, plus a good book, and someone to love, be it sister, friend, or lover. Maybe? That list is in the works.
I keep coming back to Dersiewicz's chapter on Emma and everyday matters. Up until this morning it was tangled in my mind with what a high school classmate said recently via a Facebook post: "Are people who focus on politics and their children's health and future really the same as those who indulge themselves in personal activities like reading, writing and drinking (a lot!)? Or are the former more mature and ambitious?" She clearly favored her lifestyle, or maybe felt the need to defend it. Unfortunately, she caught me up in her classic troll technique of presenting a dichotomy and as though there were only those two types of people (superior and inferior).
For a couple days I thought about what I saw as the inward vs. outward lifestyle. I've chosen the quiet life, I thought. At least for now. I decided against flight attendant training, something I'd been working towards for months. A career in customer service, the irregular schedule, and my own introverted tendencies detracted from the appeal, but also, importantly, I didn't want to give up the peaceful little life I had going.
The day I received the email inviting me again to attend training, I had finally gone to a yoga class. It felt great--so good to move my body. Afterwards, I had a vegan lunch with the cute instructor and we talked easily about books and dogs and volunteering. I left feeling invigorated, and this lunch was the impetus for me to volunteer at the cat shelter.
When I got home I took a hot bath and read Ulysses. Afterwards, propped up on a pile of pillows, surrounded by unfolded laundry, happy, and excited about my life, I checked my email and saw the invitation.
I didn't know what to do. I knew I was supposed to feel excited, but I didn't. I really was happy with life. After my surgery put off training initially, I had accepted the fact that I wasn't going to be able to go. I felt conscious of a metamorphous; that I was resting before I grew into something really beautiful and good, and I wasn't sure a life (or a few years) as a flight attendant would help me along that path. If I didn't do it, though, I'd need a really good reason to stay. Or did I? Was being happy enough?
I was concerned that if I didn't choose the more active, adventurous life, I would be "missing out;" my life would be dull, and as a consequence, I would be dull. The prospect of future regret was terrifying. And what would I do instead, really? Continue working this minimum-wage job, fading away to a nobody? While Elise and Christopher strove to meet their goals, coming home exhausted from long days of work and school, sometimes not even sleeping because there was still that paper to write...I would be there, having spent the better part of my day cleaning the kitchen and reading. How would that feel? Would life be intolerably empty? What would I have to offer anyone?
"[Austen's] genius began with the recognition that such lives as hers [which seemed uneventful compared to her aunt's or cousin's or brothers'] were very eventful indeed--that every life is eventful, if only you know how to look at it. She did not think that her existence was quiet or trivial or boring; she thought it was delightful and enthralling, and she wanted us to see that our own are, too. She understood that what fills our days should fill our hearts, and what fills our hearts should fill our novels" (Deresiewicz, 27).
And really, this isn't about an outward/inward, quiet/active life. There is no such dichotomy. Our lives--all of our lives; butcher, baker, and sex toy maker--are too rich to be crammed into some label. Let's take a note from Jane Austen and that fortune cookie, and just appreciate how good life is, how much happens every day. There's a real humility, and a kindness towards people when you believe that every life is eventful, and it's exalting.
I keep coming back to Dersiewicz's chapter on Emma and everyday matters. Up until this morning it was tangled in my mind with what a high school classmate said recently via a Facebook post: "Are people who focus on politics and their children's health and future really the same as those who indulge themselves in personal activities like reading, writing and drinking (a lot!)? Or are the former more mature and ambitious?" She clearly favored her lifestyle, or maybe felt the need to defend it. Unfortunately, she caught me up in her classic troll technique of presenting a dichotomy and as though there were only those two types of people (superior and inferior).
For a couple days I thought about what I saw as the inward vs. outward lifestyle. I've chosen the quiet life, I thought. At least for now. I decided against flight attendant training, something I'd been working towards for months. A career in customer service, the irregular schedule, and my own introverted tendencies detracted from the appeal, but also, importantly, I didn't want to give up the peaceful little life I had going.
The day I received the email inviting me again to attend training, I had finally gone to a yoga class. It felt great--so good to move my body. Afterwards, I had a vegan lunch with the cute instructor and we talked easily about books and dogs and volunteering. I left feeling invigorated, and this lunch was the impetus for me to volunteer at the cat shelter.
When I got home I took a hot bath and read Ulysses. Afterwards, propped up on a pile of pillows, surrounded by unfolded laundry, happy, and excited about my life, I checked my email and saw the invitation.
I didn't know what to do. I knew I was supposed to feel excited, but I didn't. I really was happy with life. After my surgery put off training initially, I had accepted the fact that I wasn't going to be able to go. I felt conscious of a metamorphous; that I was resting before I grew into something really beautiful and good, and I wasn't sure a life (or a few years) as a flight attendant would help me along that path. If I didn't do it, though, I'd need a really good reason to stay. Or did I? Was being happy enough?
I was concerned that if I didn't choose the more active, adventurous life, I would be "missing out;" my life would be dull, and as a consequence, I would be dull. The prospect of future regret was terrifying. And what would I do instead, really? Continue working this minimum-wage job, fading away to a nobody? While Elise and Christopher strove to meet their goals, coming home exhausted from long days of work and school, sometimes not even sleeping because there was still that paper to write...I would be there, having spent the better part of my day cleaning the kitchen and reading. How would that feel? Would life be intolerably empty? What would I have to offer anyone?
"[Austen's] genius began with the recognition that such lives as hers [which seemed uneventful compared to her aunt's or cousin's or brothers'] were very eventful indeed--that every life is eventful, if only you know how to look at it. She did not think that her existence was quiet or trivial or boring; she thought it was delightful and enthralling, and she wanted us to see that our own are, too. She understood that what fills our days should fill our hearts, and what fills our hearts should fill our novels" (Deresiewicz, 27).
And really, this isn't about an outward/inward, quiet/active life. There is no such dichotomy. Our lives--all of our lives; butcher, baker, and sex toy maker--are too rich to be crammed into some label. Let's take a note from Jane Austen and that fortune cookie, and just appreciate how good life is, how much happens every day. There's a real humility, and a kindness towards people when you believe that every life is eventful, and it's exalting.
Monday, May 6, 2013
A Jane Austen Education: Emma
Everything about A Jane Austen Education looks like it's geared towards women, from its typeface and effusive subtitle ("How Six Novels Taught Me About Love, Friendship, and the Things That Really Matter") to its paper doll illustration on the soft lavender background. I was scanning it at the bookstore yesterday and it surprised me, on page two, to realize the author was a man (William Deresiewicz). Ok, well that was cool. I don't often hear about Jane Austen from men, so I was interested. And then surprised again on page to find this was a straight man. Sold!
His books is divided into seven chapters, six of which deal with a novel and a life lesson he learned while reading. The first chapter is on Emma, a novel that I trudged through a couple years ago, all the while preferring the Clueless version. Deresiewicz is much smarter than I am, because he fell in love with Austen while reading it, and informed me it is considered to be her masterpiece. Challenge accepted! I will try again.
Deresiewicz alternates between portraying his 26-year-old self as a raging sexist; totally arrogant and unlikeable, and observations on Emma and Austen that are touchingly passionate. I have a suspicion he's going overboard on how unlikable he was, as that is the current vogue in memoirs (Giles Harvey on the "Failure Memoir"), and he was obviously really intelligent. How else could he come to the conclusion while reading Emma that Austen incited a certain response in her readers, in order to expose them and show us our own "ugly face" (12)? And by the way, that observation blew my mind.
Deresiewicz does offer the opinion of Austen I tried to articulate yesterday. To his modernist-loving younger self, Austen was the godmother of those boring 19th century British novels: "What could be duller [...] than a bunch of long, heavy novels, by women novelists, in stilted language, on trivial subjects?" (2) and he quotes Mark Twain on Austen, who said her work made him feel "'like a barkeep entering the kingdom of heaven.' 'It seems a great pity to me,' he taunted an Austen fan, 'that they allowed her to die a natural death.' 'Every time I read Pride and Prejudice,' he told another friend, 'I want to dig her up and hit her over the skull with her own shinbone'" (19).
And yet, this "'little old maid'" (19) would teach Deresiewicz, in his words: "everything I know about everything that matters" (1).
Well, ok.
It was exciting to read the first chapter, just because it's wonderful to read someone articulate why you love something. Like my former classmate, Maggie, said about P&P and E: "There's something comforting about them. Life gets real, but not in a overly horrific way" or the character Humberstall in Rudyard Kipling's "The Janeites:" "There's no one to touch Jane when you're in a tight place" (20). Yes, her writing is comforting. It's not big and dramatic, you aren't going to be dragged through the wringer, and they all have happy endings.
So what? When I put it that way, it does sound dull. But her novels absolutely are not. They are lively and fun, she is totally refreshing and on point, as when she describes dancing with an unappealing partner: "Mr. Collins, awkward and solemn, apologizing instead of attending, and often moving wrong without being aware of it, gave her all the shame and misery which a disagreeable partner for a couple of dances can give. The moment of her release from him was ecstasy (78-79, P&P). How charming is that? I could listen to that voice for hours, couldn't you?
His books is divided into seven chapters, six of which deal with a novel and a life lesson he learned while reading. The first chapter is on Emma, a novel that I trudged through a couple years ago, all the while preferring the Clueless version. Deresiewicz is much smarter than I am, because he fell in love with Austen while reading it, and informed me it is considered to be her masterpiece. Challenge accepted! I will try again.
Deresiewicz alternates between portraying his 26-year-old self as a raging sexist; totally arrogant and unlikeable, and observations on Emma and Austen that are touchingly passionate. I have a suspicion he's going overboard on how unlikable he was, as that is the current vogue in memoirs (Giles Harvey on the "Failure Memoir"), and he was obviously really intelligent. How else could he come to the conclusion while reading Emma that Austen incited a certain response in her readers, in order to expose them and show us our own "ugly face" (12)? And by the way, that observation blew my mind.
Deresiewicz does offer the opinion of Austen I tried to articulate yesterday. To his modernist-loving younger self, Austen was the godmother of those boring 19th century British novels: "What could be duller [...] than a bunch of long, heavy novels, by women novelists, in stilted language, on trivial subjects?" (2) and he quotes Mark Twain on Austen, who said her work made him feel "'like a barkeep entering the kingdom of heaven.' 'It seems a great pity to me,' he taunted an Austen fan, 'that they allowed her to die a natural death.' 'Every time I read Pride and Prejudice,' he told another friend, 'I want to dig her up and hit her over the skull with her own shinbone'" (19).
And yet, this "'little old maid'" (19) would teach Deresiewicz, in his words: "everything I know about everything that matters" (1).
Well, ok.
It was exciting to read the first chapter, just because it's wonderful to read someone articulate why you love something. Like my former classmate, Maggie, said about P&P and E: "There's something comforting about them. Life gets real, but not in a overly horrific way" or the character Humberstall in Rudyard Kipling's "The Janeites:" "There's no one to touch Jane when you're in a tight place" (20). Yes, her writing is comforting. It's not big and dramatic, you aren't going to be dragged through the wringer, and they all have happy endings.
So what? When I put it that way, it does sound dull. But her novels absolutely are not. They are lively and fun, she is totally refreshing and on point, as when she describes dancing with an unappealing partner: "Mr. Collins, awkward and solemn, apologizing instead of attending, and often moving wrong without being aware of it, gave her all the shame and misery which a disagreeable partner for a couple of dances can give. The moment of her release from him was ecstasy (78-79, P&P). How charming is that? I could listen to that voice for hours, couldn't you?
In her talk at the Spring Gala, Amy Patterson spoke about the escapism of romance novels, with their studly heroes and supermodel heroines, and said instead of that, Austen encourages us to uncover what in our life is romantic. Mentioning Austen in the same breath as Jesus and Socrates, Deresiewicz says she was teaching us in her own version of parables that the "little particulars" in our life really mattered; "That, she was telling us, is what the fabric of our years really consists of. That is what life is really about" (13). She is the anti-escapist. And if you "got" her, he says, "you felt like you'd joined a secret club, with its own code words and special signs and degrees of initiation" (19). That's how it felt Saturday at the Gala. The same way it feels to go to a leather convention, or a Comic Con I imagine. I guess what I'm saying, is that people love Austen like some people love fisting or Batman. Like fisting, Austen is quiet, peaceful, and attentive to small details. She is intimate and slow-paced, and as with fisting, enjoying an Austen novel can be as elevating as a religious service.
Saturday I knew I was an outsider. I knew just enough to have a conversation; I had the love but not the deep knowledge or experience to be a part of the Janeites. Plus, I didn't have a fabulous hat. But it wasn't like attending CLAW, where I felt like an outsider, appreciating the community but knowing I wasn't ever going to be a part of it. At the Gala I felt I was with people I wanted to be with for a long time. Austen holds a real appeal to me; in her quietness, her wit, her intelligence, and her selection of the everyday over the epic.
I haven't felt this inspired in awhile.
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