Category: Completed Books (Page 5 of 5)

A Christmas Carol

December 21, 2016 / wordsmith2294

Merry Christmas, class!

Celebrate with me—I’ve made it through four months, 10 books, and 50 posts! The finish line may not be exactly close, but I must profess (haha) that I’m having fun. I hope you are as well, students.

A Christmas Carol is one of those classics that everyone sort of knows. Charles Dickens’ novel helped define modern Christmas traditions in Western cultures, and the story and characters are instantly recognizable—especially Ebenezer Scrooge, the 19^th Century Grinch who loves money and hates people.

Ebenezer Scrooge and Marley’s Ghost

The fantasy elements—Ghosts of Christmas Past, Present, and Future, as well as Marley’s Ghost—are grounded by religious themes and societal struggles. Dickens isn’t afraid to get dark—he portrays hunger, poverty, disability, grief, and greed in the Christmas season. A Christmas Carol doesn’t let the joy of Christmas diminish the needs of society, but uses Christmas to represent joy with societal needs in mind…all while redeeming the grumpy old Scrooge.

Scrooge isn’t as much of a “scrooge” as society makes him—he isn’t a stereotype. For one thing, it’s clear from the beginning why he dislikes Christmas: his friend and business partner Marley died at Christmas-time several years ago. He used to enjoy Christmas, but by the beginning of the story, Christmas is nothing but hardship for him, and he has no patience for generosity.

Generosity just happens to be his problem—he plays by the rules of money and capitalism, and giving away money goes against the rules. If everyone fended for themselves, it would be a better world for him. In fact, he could have lived out his days that way, storing up his treasures on earth, had it not been for Marley’s Ghost.

Scrooge in A Christmas Carol (2009)

The intrusive spirit does Scrooge a favor and shows him the true meanings of Christmas—love, family, friendship, giving, joy. Scrooge is shown what Christmas used to be, what Christmas could be if he doesn’t change, and what Christmas is to the people he claims to hate. Scrooge learns the lesson and is reborn, and (spoiler alert) finds a happy ending.

A Christmas Carol is a transparently humble story—it doesn’t claim to be anything more than what it is. It’s as short as it is humble, and it’s separated into staves (musical sections) rather than chapters, making it more “carol” than “novel.” Dickens’ writing style is particularly unique—long sentences that build up to important points, bleak form and bleak content, etc.—but it rarely sounds dull or dated. Reading the novel feels simultaneously familiar and fresh; it bursts at the seams with originality, but always resembles the ghost of a song we already know.

If you have time this holiday season, I recommend reading it. It’s a quick read and a timeless classic. In our time, when Christmas seems too rushed or commercialized, having fallen prey to money and capitalism, A Christmas Carol is a good way to remind us what this sacred time is really for.

I’ve already started my next read, Life of Pi by Yann Martel, which is one of my favorites. Unlike A Christmas Carol, which lightly reminds readers of religious themes and topics, Life of Pi hits religious topics with full force. Post #51, here we come!

Until then, enjoy your holidays,

Prof. Jeffrey

The Grapes of Wrath

December 7, 2016 / wordsmith2294

The Grapes of Wrath Book Cover

Welcome back, class.

The Grapes of Wrath is not a popular book. Very few people I know like it—it’s just too weird. The story is interrupted by short, confusing chapters that have nothing to do with the main characters. Steinbeck’s writing style has this odd repetition to it, which easily annoys anyone already confused. The ending is anticlimactic, detached, morbid, and vague. I have no solution for these issues, because they are issues of taste. If you have to read it, get over it.

If you can do that, what you’ll find is a powerful, moving portrayal of the Great Depression and the Dust Bowl. In my opinion, that’s the reason it made the list.

While I hated The Grapes of Wrath in high school (it lost me as early as the third chapter), the reread showed me two reasons to appreciate it—its connections to The Odyssey, and its carefully created characters.

Apparently, remaking The Odyssey is a common practice in literature. The journey home, the monsters and obstacles on the way, the gods dooming the quest…there are so many ways to adapt the fundamental story, and Steinbeck holds very little back adapting it here. Our hero is Tom Joad, skilled in all ways of contending, recently released from prison. He and his family load up the truck and head west, in search of a new home.

Henry Fonda as Tom Joad in The Grapes of Wrath (1940)

The adaptations of each Odyssean episode are fun to pick out (fun being a relative term). The immature man selling parts, mumbling about his dire situation and his missing eye, is the Cyclops trying to trap the Joad family in his childish pessimism. Another character, complaining about what the country’s coming to, is one of the sirens—Tom says he’s just “singing a kind of song,” and doing nothing about it. Their new home, California, is ripe with dangers like cops trying to push them out and other wanderers taking what scarce employment remains, just like the suitors Odysseus faces when he finally makes it home to Ithaca.

But Steinbeck doesn’t just recycle The Odyssey. The Grapes of Wrath is also an anti-Odyssey, which makes it just as interesting to find connections. Poseidon, god of the sea, tried to destroy Odysseus, but the Joad family faces the Dust Bowl—there is no sea, no water, no replenishment for the Joads. The search for home is just as twisted—the Joads had a home, and they were kicked out. They spend the last half of the novel looking for work, not home. Odysseus’ reunion with his family is mocked here, as the Joad family slowly falls apart from the strain of the quest. The ambiguous ending either supports the Joad’s strength to carry on, or shows a family blown apart by the hardships of 1930s America. This is not the same journey Odysseus faced.

John Steinbeck

The story works without noticing the Odyssey connections as well (it’s less fun, but it works), all because of Steinbeck’s realism with the characters. Tom’s grandparents bicker and fumble around like any loving couple would, but are never stereotypes. The children, Ruthie and Winfield, see the world as only children would—they reveal family secrets out of pride for knowing them, make fun of their uncle’s alcoholism by pretending to be drunk, and can’t understand death except as the absence of a person they loved.

Without a doubt, the core relationship in the novel is between Tom and his mother. She is the matriarch keeping the family together, and he is her strength. She’s always loved how he copes with the world, and he is beyond her understanding, but he always comes back. Tom loves her like any son would, and as much as the world pulls him away, she anchors him to what matters. Their final scene finally breaks the family’s quest, and whether or not the Joad family has truly found home is up to the reader to decide.

The Grapes of Wrath is hard to read, and I don’t recommend it for high school students—it’s too confusing, even for adults. But if you have help, reading this book can reveal 1930s American life with stark clarity. It’s messages make sense today, as we face the same sociopolitical problems—homelessness, class discrimination, police brutality, racism, and the flaws of capitalism. It’s a novel worth studying.

In the spirit of the holidays, I’ll get scrooged and read A Christmas Carol by Charles Dickens next. Have a good week!

Prof. Jeffrey

The Catcher in the Rye

November 9, 2016 / wordsmith2294

The Catcher in the Rye (1951): Book Cover

Hello again, class.

Back when I wrote about Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland, I talked about children being mistreated and not fitting in with Victorian England’s rules. Wonderland is a metaphor for the strangeness of adulthood; Salinger’s The Catcher in the Rye is less figurative and more realistic, but it makes a similar claim for adulthood. The real tragedy of The Catcher in the Rye is not that children are mistreated; it’s that they are ignored.

Let’s look more closely…

The hero of the hour is Holden Caulfield (officially one of my least favorite names), a sixteen year-old kicked out of yet another prep-school for failing every class but English. Over the course of three days, Holden bails from his dorm and takes a strange journey around New York, involving everything from nuns and cab drivers to prostitutes and pimps, eventually finding his way home.

Unlike in Alice, whose helpful narrator helps explain Alice’s predicament, Holden is always speaking directly to us. As a sixteen year-old, he is explicit with language and content, but there are also things Holden deliberately leaves out. He is trapped in his own head, and he isn’t aware of what’s happening to his psyche. That means this book is meant to be deciphered (puzzles!!).

The Catcher in the Rye: First Lines and an Illustration

Speaking of what was meant to happen, Salinger’s intentions were especially interesting. This book was written for adults, as a way of revealing the emotions and thoughts of children that society ignores. This makes Holden’s age a careful choice—he is beyond childhood innocence, but he shuns maturity and adulthood, so he is caught in the middle. As a result, Catcher has become an inspiration for teenagers in rebellion; Holden’s violent thoughts, potent imagination, and social aversion became rallying cries for teenagers that feel ignored, want to be left alone, and hate the established order of the world (as stereotypical these attributes sound, part of Salinger’s point is that rebellious teenagers are not a stereotype).

Salinger’s intentions were also tragically misunderstood in the resulting attacks on President Ronald Reagan and John Lennon. I haven’t been able to research the full extent of these stories, but both attacks are said to be inspired by The Catcher in the Rye. For an extra frightening factor, the movie Chapter 27 is a fictionalized account of the assassination of John Lennon, named for the 26 chapters in Salinger’s novel.

But in the end, these external facts have clouded the importance of the novel itself. I was reading it for the first time and expected some kind of violent, tragic end, especially with all of the references to his own insanity and the recurrence of his red hunting hat as a symbol. Fortunately, the story is not so predictable. If you read it yourself, I recommend leaving an open mind about what kind of person Holden is—don’t just sympathize with his isolation, but empathize with his quest.

And yes, there is a quest—even if its not on the surface. Holden’s quest is about happiness. No matter what physically happens to him, he is searching for something to take comfort in…something to give him hope and peace. Underneath Holden’s chaotic odyssey is a relatable emotional journey.

I’d like to hear from you: what were your own thoughts on Catcher in the Rye? It’s gone from banned reading to studied carefully in high school classes, so I look forward to the spectrum of thoughts here.

Next up, I’m reading The Grapes of Wrath, another kind of odyssey. I hated it in high school, but I look forward to giving it another chance. Some things can’t be enjoyed in high school.

Until next week,

Prof. Jeffrey

The Bible

November 2, 2016 / wordsmith2294

bible-text Good morning class.

Today’s lesson is pretty serious—the Bible is arguably the most important text in human history, so I’ll begin with a kind of disclaimer:

Just like with Hamlet last week, I can’t possibly talk about everything that the Bible entails. Even worse, I can’t actually state a fact on the Bible without saying something potentially offensive. Everyone has their own experience with religion, some more positive than others, and even having the Bible on the “50 Books to Read Before You Die” list is debatable. There are people who hate it, people who are inspired by it, people who avoid it entirely, and people who use, misuse, and abuse it everyday.

With that in mind, I have two goals. 1) I’m going to talk about how the Bible has impacted me and my life (without bearing too much of my soul), and 2) I’m going to explain why I think you should read the Bible before you die. My hope is that I portray the Bible with not-too-much bias, and that you, students, are able to read this post with an open mind.

When I set out to read the Bible in its entirety, it was to improve my knowledge of the religious beliefs I had been practicing my entire life. I was in my senior year of high school when I started, and I read small sections of the Bible everyday throughout college. It was often difficult to continue, but I accomplished the task and am very glad that I did.

…But the Bible can be profoundly boring and profoundly outdated. Not only are the lists of names, endless instructions, and intricate details for tabernacles tedious…these are often followed by passages that forbid women to speak in church, condemn homosexuality, and encourage slavery, murder, and war. These passages make a significant portion of the Bible difficult to read.

An illustration of Naomi and Ruth, from the Book of Ruth (Old Testament)

For me, these passages are admissible because of historical and cultural context. It’s certainly worth mentioning that the Bible is the oldest text on the 50-books list—it’s a collection of documents passed down orally, eventually written down, and translated multiple times over the course of thousands of years. Add to this that the authors were men in hugely male-dominated societies, and you should arrive at one obvious conclusion: the Bible is flawed.

The Bible is also incredibly beautiful. It doesn’t take a belief in God to see that many of the Psalms are moving works of poetry, or that Jesus’ parables are deep and layered metaphors. I really enjoyed reading and rereading these moments, where religion joined song and meaning. I am an English major, after all.

But the moments I enjoyed most were specifically for religious reasons—mostly, the passages that refer to love. My ideas of love come from the Bible, because most of the books I’ve read involve the kind of love that comes from the Bible (such as the Harry Potter series, which is more about love than anything else). Love that is powerful, sweeping, gentle, emotional, forgiving, and never-ending…it’s found in some of my favorite Bible passages.

As I studied each passage, I flinched at the offensive moments, almost nodded off at the boring moments, and happily praised the beautiful moments. As a practicing, active Christian, it means a lot to me that I don’t actively practice every instruction or belief in the Bible. It also means a lot to me that Biblical interpretations mean just as much to me as the text itself—it is a translation, after all, and I don’t mean to learn Hebrew any time soon.

The Nativity Scene

I view the Bible as a complicated guide for living life. It is helpful, even with its prejudices, when it is read for spiritual growth or information. When it’s used as a tool for power or manipulation, it can easily become abusive, and this happens daily. My beliefs aren’t too complicated here—when I think of evil, I don’t think of a horned devil or a fiery hell; I think of the capacity for evil within human beings. I think evil is hatred and segregation. People who use the Bible to oppress or suppress others are falling prey to their own evil capacity. Parts of the Bible fall into this category—I use these passages for information (i.e., to understand the culture of the time), but these passages have very little, or nothing at all, to do with my religious practice.

On the other hand, the Bible is also worth looking at simply because it’s referenced in every book on the 50-books list. Even the ones I haven’t read yet—I’m willing to bet they each use it as inspiration. In the history of English literature, nothing has made a bigger impact than the Bible. Looking more closely at the Bible has its own benefits, but it’s also the key to understanding some of the greatest literary masterpieces from the past thousand years.

A close up of Michelangelo’s painting on the Sistine Chapel

But for me, it’s about the journey of love. Connection, family, honesty, communion, trust, forgiveness, communication, acceptance, sacrifice, faith, pain…it’s all love in different ways. That’s the “point” of the Bible.

I’ve already started reading my next novel: The Catcher in the Rye. It actually has a lot in common with Hamlet, with the focus on a vengeful, misguided youth, so it seemed like a logical leap—granted, it’s a leap forward hundreds of years and across the Atlantic…

Hamlet

October 26, 2016 / wordsmith2294

A Portrait of William Shakespeare

Something is rotten in the state of Denmark, class.

Hamlet is one of my favorites. It’s been pulled apart by experts for hundreds of years, and it can still be interpreted in new ways. But no matter what, it still remains a classic, untarnished by these interpretations. It stands the test of time, thanks to Shakespeare’s awesomeness.

On the surface, Hamlet is about a grieving prince trying to avenge his father’s murder at the hands of his uncle. This leads into a sweeping commentary on suicide, revenge, masculinity, insanity, parenthood, inaction, the afterlife, humanity, and ghosts, all at once. The discussions that spring from this story are limitless.

As much as I’d like to add to those discussions, I think it’s safer for me to stick to the story itself; I might otherwise begin writing a dissertation. That’s partly what makes Hamlet such a good work of literature—when one strips away the wide and varying interpretations, what’s left is a strong story. Shakespeare’s famous for a reason.

Shakespeare wrote Hamlet after his son died at a young age. Hamlet’s journey, having lost his father, is from grief to peace, reflecting Shakespeare’s own grieving process. Hamlet spends most of the play deep in madness, revenge plots, conspiracy, and suicidal thoughts—but in the end, even as he faces death, he seems to have found an inner peace.

This journey is catharsis—the release of overflowing emotions—and it’s one of the oldest reasons why literature is important (we can thank Aristotle for that). Hamlet, like many great works of literature, art, and music, is therapeutic. It portrays grief and the path to peace, and reading it or viewing it, just like Shakespeare’s act of writing it, is a catalyst for the grieving process.

Poster for Kenneth Branagh’s “Hamlet” (1996)

This is an important point for Shakespeare, because Hamlet is his longest play. The only movie version I know that’s portrayed the entire text is Kenneth Branagh’s Hamlet (1996), which clocks in at FOUR HOURS of screen time. Hamlet alone has more to say than any other Shakespearean character, with enough monologues to fill up the standard length of a play by himself. His journey through grief is long and painful.

The length of the play also reveals a foundational element for the character: the middle three acts of the play have Hamlet struggling to act on the wishes of his father’s ghost. He doubts himself, seeks evidence, kills the wrong man, pretends to be insane to throw people off, and monologues like there’s no tomorrow. I think this is about his grief as well; he loves his father more than he hates his uncle, and he resists the call to murdering his father’s killer because of the pain of his father’s death. The ghost wants his son’s anger, but Hamlet is more complicated than pure revenge will allow.

One passage that struck me reading it this time is in Act 1, Scene 2 (Hamlet’s introduction scene). Hamlet’s uncle calls his excessive grief “unmanly,” because he is still in mourning after the rest of the kingdom, even the king’s wife, has moved on. Hamlet has an air of femininity throughout the play, conventionally speaking, and this provides some context in regards to the questions about Shakespeare’s sexuality.

Hamlet is the hero, not in spite of his femininity but because of it. His “feminine” qualities make him who he is—a different kind of man, perfect for the scenarios provided in the play, and therefore our tragic hero. His “unmanly grief” isn’t weakness…it’s love.

David Tennant as Hamlet (2009)

I’ve barely scratched the surface here, so I encourage you to try Hamlet on your own. In fact, try any of the movie versions first; watching Hamlet is far more enjoyable than reading it. I know of five solid adaptations, featuring actors like Sir Laurence Olivier, David Tennant, Sir Patrick Stewart, Glenn Close, Ethan Hawke, and even Mel Gibson.

If none of those versions suit you, just watch The Lion King. Simba is Hamlet, Mufasa is the King, Scar is Hamlet’s uncle, Nala is Ophelia (with a happier ending), Timon and Pumbaa are Rosencrantz and Guildenstern…the list goes on.

David Tennant as Hamlet and Sir Patrick Stewart as King Claudius (2009)

If you know Hamlet well enough and need even more existential crises, I recommend the play Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are Dead by Tom Stoppard. It’s philosophically funny and expands on Shakespeare’s ideas in the best way possible.

It would seem that Hamlet is just as important for the works it has inspired.

Don’t forget your homework! Reply in the comments: If you’ve read Hamlet before, what’s your favorite part? Why do you like it? Or not like it?

Take a moment to celebrate with me…I’ve been professor-blogging for two months now, and I feel like it’s going well! Grades look good, so you must be learning something. Keep up the good work, students.

I’m reading my next book, but it will take a while. Next week, I’ll talk about a book I’ve chosen not to reread—the Bible. I know what you’re thinking… “even you, Professor, could stand to reread the Bible.” As it turns out, I have been reading my Bible everyday, and I’m a few chapters away from a years-long goal of reading it cover to cover. In fact, I’ve studied the Bible since the earliest memories of my childhood, since before I could even read. I even currently work at a church. How do you like them apples?

In any case, next week is gonna be a scream.

Prof. Jeffrey

1984

October 19, 2016 / wordsmith2294

Good morning, class, and down with Big Brother.

I enjoyed 1984 much more reading it the second time…it must have something to do with not being in high school anymore. I’m sure my high school experience was better than others, but when my English teacher helped us understand George Orwell by comparing our student news videos to the Two Minutes Hate and the manipulation of the media, a wee bit of paranoia started to set in. I’ve been a skeptical person since.

Paranoia aside, 1984 is very enlightening. Rereading it now, in the heightened political tension of our country, is particularly notable. I won’t pretend to understand the political spectrum, but I do understand ethics, and there are some unethical happenings in these United States, let me tell you.

But before jumping into ethics and politics, I want to jump into the novel itself, and get at why it’s worth reading.

A Summary

big-brother-poster For those of you that don’t know, 1984 is a novel from the late 1940s, portraying a dystopian future set in or around the year 1984. We follow Winston Smith, a regular enough guy, who spends his days updating documents in service to the Party (the ruling political body); but in his mind, he gives us the scoop on the terrible world he lives in. The Party enforces total order and removes any and all traces of rebellion or revolution; telescreens and microphones are everywhere, destroying privacy; egregious lies are perpetuated, the most notable of which is a fictional, decades-long war used to distract the masses and enforce rations; and Big Brother, the terrifying face that looms over everything, holds all of the political power.

In the privacy of Winston’s own mind, we find freedom. He can think what he wants, but that is dangerous: if his face, eyes, or body language reveal his thoughts to the ever-watchful telescreens, he will be caught committing thoughtcrime (any insurgent or disloyal thought) and for that he can be executed. So he is always mentally suppressing himself, forcing everything but the inner sanctum of his mind to walk, talk, and act like any other Party supporter would. He can only hope that this is enough to maintain his individuality.

The book is divided in three parts. In Part One, we see a handful of days in Winston’s life, and what he does to survive. In Part Two, his life is turned around by a woman he meets, who has a similar hate for the Party, and they begin an affair. I can’t give away much of Part Three without spoiling the ending, but suffice it to say that his affair leads him further inside the Party’s inner workings than he’s ever been before.

A Commentary on Individuality

There are many ideas guiding the novel, but Winston’s individuality is the most important one. The fact that he has his own memories, his own thoughts, his own feelings… it means that he still has his humanity. The Party is, ideologically, a group mind; they believe that reality exists only in the collective mind, so if everyone agrees that something is true, then it is true. If there were only two people on the planet and they both truly believed that they had the ability to fly, then that was true, regardless of whether they actually lifted off the ground. External reality is invalid.

I think Winston is less concerned about the idea that reality is subjective, and more interested salvaging the part of him that mentally disagrees with the Party’s ideology. He wants to maintain his self by distancing it from the Party, but they have all the power, so he has to do that without them knowing, making him a sheep in wolf’s clothing. He can see his impending death, so his life is about putting that off for as long as possible, which is only worthwhile because he remains himself, at his own peril.

This may be a drastic view on Orwell’s part, but it is a dark mirror of the world we live in. Historically speaking, we have less privacy than ever before. There are drones and cameras and microphones everywhere, and there is the Internet, where social media opens up every biographical floodgate and where bloggers post at their every whim (don’t worry, I don’t do that; I may be whimsical, but I’m practically whim-less; impulsiveness is my bane). There is an incredible power to the technology we have access to, and that technology can be extremely costly to our lives and our humanity, if we aren’t careful.

But imagine, for a second, what reality looks like if exactly that happens—if we aren’t careful, if we are reckless, if we are even destructive. This novel reveals that there are two options—recklessness and order, or as I like to call them, freedom and peace. And, if you’ll allow the genre leap, these same options are offered in a much more contemporary story…Captain America: Civil War.

The Comics’ Relief

captain-america-civil-war-poster Well, I seem to have caught the attention of comic book fans in the back of the class—thank you for joining us. Yes, I am comparing George Orwell’s 1984 to the blockbuster hit of the year, Captain America: Civil War, at least in part because it continues Orwell’s political and ethical dialogue. It’s not a perfectly clean connection, but a very similar issue is played out between our opposing heroes, Steve Rogers’ Captain America and Tony Stark’s Iron Man.

Stark, having been partly responsible for the almost-destruction of Earth, has given up. He thinks superpowered people should answer to someone before things get out of hand, and he’s lumped himself into the group that needs to be “put in check.” He can’t stand to be responsible for more loss of life. Rogers starkly opposes this (don’t you love a good pun); when leaders start putting superheroes on a register, they dangerously approach the death of freedom. He wants to save people, and if he signs over his allegiance to a government body, he may not get the chance to do what he believes is right. He trusts his own abilities and his own morals more than those of a government.

The irony is not lost here—Captain America is opposing the American government. Well, surprise, that’s because America is its people, not its ruling body. Rogers’ decision is about freedom, and not letting the fear of loss of life get in the way of that. Stark, on the other hand, is giving into his own fears, and his guilt. He’s willing to sacrifice freedom for safety, where Rogers isn’t. Stark wants peace and order, and he’ll do what it takes to get it.

A Political, Ethical Question

1984-party-slogan-image As terrible as the world of 1984 sounds, it is a peaceful world. Crime is dealt with before it happens, the ruling body stays in power unquestionably, and noble ideas about freedom and justice won’t dare topple the order that has been established. It is a deadly, terrifying peace, at the cost of freedom. Winston Smith, our aging, frail hero, is maintaining his individuality—his freedom to be himself—endangering his life at every passing moment. The novel asks an unanswerable question of politics and ethics—what’s more important, freedom or peace?

Even worse, it gives us an answer we don’t like: external reality is invalid, the Party’s truth is the only truth, and the individual’s thoughts, memories, and feelings are subjective. The Party has power and truth, and the individual’s denial of it makes the individual an enemy of the state. Everything said can be disproved, denied, manipulated…everything thought is a lie because the individual mind is a lie, and the collective mind is the only truth.

As brutally heart-wrenching as Captain America: Civil War is, 1984 takes “brutal” to a whole new level.

If you decide to try reading 1984, I recommend you come at it with determination. The language is difficult to muddle through, and at its worst, it is a tangent on ideological concepts. Orwell uses the story to explain political ideas, and he does it because the story is important, but it doesn’t seem as important to him as the political ideas. Even so, I can’t imagine that there’s a better way to tell this kind of story, which definitely needs to be told.

Your homework: answering another unanswerable question. If you had the choice between freedom and peace, what would you choose? I’ve obviously landed on the side of freedom, as have George Orwell and Captain America, but this is such a broad topic that we can easily be proven wrong. Is it more important to be free, regardless of the cost to peace? Or is it more important to have a lasting peace, sacrificing freedom in the process? Leave a reply in the comments, and bonus points for anyone who ties in actual politics to a political question.

Up next, I’m reading Hamlet. Time for some Oedipal complexes and existential crises!!

Prof. Jeffrey

The Picture of Dorian Gray

October 5, 2016 / wordsmith2294

Hello again, class.

Per our discussion last week, I am unashamed to admit that I read most of The Picture of Dorian Gray aloud to myself in a terrible British accent. When I got to the really dramatic parts, I slowed it down and pretended I was in a movie. I encourage this sort of behavior in your free time.

Dorian Gray and his Portrait, from The Picture of Dorian Gray (1945)

Anyway, let’s jump right in—I’m surprised at how coincidentally similar Dorian Gray’s portrait is to Sauron’s ring and Lord Voldemort’s Horcruxes. For anyone who is unfamiliar with Dorian Gray’s story, it details the life of a man whose soul is linked to a portrait of himself, manifested in two ways: he remains young while the portrait ages, and his sins damage the portrait while his soul remains undamaged.

Unlike The Lord of the Rings and The Harry Potter series, though, this is no adventure story—it’s more like a Victorian Gothic morality tale, criticizing morality. Instead of “action,” the story relies more on dialogue and Dorian’s inner thoughts. More than any of the books I’ve read so far for this class, it is unadulterated art, which makes it challenging and refreshing.

A Statue of Oscar Wilde in Dublin, Ireland

For a little backstory: author Oscar Wilde is actually better known for his plays. The Picture of Dorian Gray is his only novel, but it has moments that seem like a play—dialogue is uninterrupted by descriptions, chapters take place only one scene at a time, and the story splits evenly into two separate “acts” (Dorian as a young man and Dorian in his late 30s). Wilde probably wrote it as a novel because he wanted to capture Dorian’s thoughts, which analyze the soul, art, God, evil, England, love, sin, and fashion…all at once.

Wilde included a preface as a way of defending his work, where he explains that art and morality are separate and criticizes nineteenth century treatment of art. I’m betting Wilde added this preface because people didn’t catch the messages in the novel itself. No need to worry—Prof. Jeffrey caught on! In every piece of dialogue between the three main characters, they discuss the battle between art and morality, and what that means for society. These moments distance themselves from the story, and though they tend to come off as preachy, they’re always interesting. These moments help the reader seriously consider Dorian Gray’s immortality and his addiction to sin.

Dorian Gray is something of a cross between a vampire and Peter Pan—stuck in the prime of his life but disconnected from his soul. He is a lot like Shakespeare’s Hamlet—a youthful figure trapped between a tormented soul, a tragic fate, and lengthy dialogue—which further cements his status as an amazing literary character. If you’re looking for a reason to read Dorian Gray, he’s it: his inner thoughts show us his temptation to commit evil acts and his obsession with his portrait, and the spectacle of his life is beautiful and tragic. He disgusts, moves, and terrifies us because he is simultaneously the worst and best versions of ourselves. Feel free to listen in on the art-and-morality lectures as you read, but you should stick around to experience the cataclysmic life of Dorian Gray.

I’m moving on to George Orwell’s 1984 next. I’ve been remarkably stuck in the fantasy genre, and a little dystopian drama might shake things up a bit around here. That being said, fantasy is probably my favorite genre to read in, and I’d like to hear what novels you’ve read.

Your homework: leave a comment describing your favorite fantasy novel. Tell me what it’s like—I don’t want the summary I can find just about anywhere, because I’d much rather have your personal impression of it. Why did you like it so much? And the question of the hour—you know what this class is about—WHY should I read it?

I look forward to your comments. See you next week!

Prof. Jeffrey

The Lord of the Rings

September 21, 2016 / wordsmith2294

Welcome, students. I’ve finally finished reading all 1,000+ pages of The Lord of the Rings.

I am biased, in a way: I grew up watching The Lord of the Rings as movies, so I knew the story almost by heart by the time I sat down with the original material. But there is so much that separates the original from the movies, not only in the medium, but in the mood and development of the story too. It not only looks different; it feels different.

The trilogy has its problems, but it is outmatched by what Tolkien does right. For example, Middle-Earth is astounding–the hobbits of the Shire, the mystical Elven-land of Rivendell, the forests of Lothlórien and Fangorn, the vast kingdom of the horse-land Rohan, the glorious realm of Gondor helmed by the white towers of Minas Tirith, and the dark and fiery Mordor. Its scope is matched with depth; Tolkien creates dynamic cultures from the ground up, founded on his beautifully invented languages.

Gandalf the Wizard

Tolkien’s characters are wonderful, and I’ve got three favorites–Gandalf, Gollum, and Sam. Gandalf, a wizard, is the voice of wisdom; he is the story’s mind and moral compass. Gandalf fights evil in many ways, but his chief method is through acts of love, and through the comfort of believing in the smaller things that tip the scales in times of war. He is, quite possibly, the most quotable character.

Gollum

Gollum is much more interesting to study–he has been torn apart by the dark magic of the One Ring, and the pieces of himself fight with each other. He calls the ring “my precious,” an excellent metaphor for materialism and what it does to the soul. He is the smallest of enemies, but he is dynamic, pitiable, terrifying, and integral to the quest of our characters.

Samwise Gamgee

And then there’s Sam. Samwise Gamgee is the heart of the story, and easily the most cherished character. He is Frodo’s servant and friend, and as Frodo dutifully bears the ring, Sam bears his master Frodo. Amidst the terrifying obstacles they face, Sam is incredibly brave, refreshingly hopeful, and unquestionably hilarious. He is also directly involved in every tearjerker moment, in both the books and the movies, and while the cost of their quest is greatest on Frodo, Sam’s place helps ground that cost back in the real world–in the hope that after such a journey, such a treasure as home can be regained.

The trilogy has flaws. The most glaring issue is the fact that it has, approximately, four female characters. Two of them are forgettable, one is an Elven queen (angelic beyond compare, so impossible to connect to), and the last is a warrior, who eventually gives up fighting for her kingdom when she finds true love. Feminism does not abound here.

On a personal note, Tolkien also suffers when it comes to exposition. The movies notably tighten the story, but the novel lags on in huge passages where Tolkien is simply trying to catch up with his characters’ tales, and it forces the reader to trudge through the narrative. The story seems to date itself when it handles conspiracy and secrecy, but because I know the movies so well, it could just be that the big reveals didn’t feel like much.

The One Ring

These issues aside, the depth of the world and the everlasting themes are the reason to read The Lord of the Rings. Environmentalism has its say on more than one occasion, most notably when the trees of Fangorn fight back against Saruman’s machine-like destruction of the forests. The ring’s dark power is temptation–characters succumb to pride, vengeance, greed, and selfishness, which speaks to the power of things and the frailty of humankind. Tales and songs act as meta-fiction, showing us that this is a great story as we read it–this is a kind of song, an epic journey for the ages, that helps us appreciate the stories we know and the stories we’re in.

Most importantly, we see a sprawling war hinge on the actions of a hobbit, the smallest of creatures in Middle-Earth, who has a greater strength than men twice his size: an inner strength, which is more powerful than an army of monsters. Through the small things–acts of love and kindness, trust, bearing our everyday burdens–we can change the course of the future.

My reading of The Lord of the Rings is unconventional–the movies helped me understand the book. I’d like to hear from others who just so happened to experience the opposite.

Your homework: if you read the story BEFORE watching the movies, take a minute to comment on what that experience was like! Was Tolkien’s work difficult to read without the assistance of the movies? Were you more critical of the movie adaptations than most? What did you think of Tolkien’s writing–not just the plot and the characters, but also his voice, style, exposition? Leave a comment below! (And I don’t want to be blatant, but the more thorough your answers are, the better your grade will be. I’m just saying.)

Up next, I’m reading the remarkably short novel The Picture of Dorian Gray by Oscar Wilde. I’m very excited about this–I’m a fan of Irish literature, but I’ve never read any of Wilde’s work. All I know about Dorian Gray so far is his portrayal in the graphic-novel-based movie The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen…so, basically, I know his name is Dorian Gray.

Hopefully, I’ll know more next week. See you then.

Prof. Jeffrey

The Harry Potter Series

September 7, 2016 / wordsmith2294

Good morning, class.

I’m still powering through The Lord of the Rings. I’m about halfway finished, and I am hoping I’ll be done before our next class. Await my forthcoming epic lecture.

Instead, I’m dedicating class today to the Harry Potter series. Why, the bolder of you may ask? There are a handful of reasons. Firstly, I’m not rereading Harry Potter–I’m only writing about it here. I’ve read each book at least three times, so I feel I’ve earned the right to call myself an expert on the series (and no, you can’t call yourself an expert if you’ve ONLY seen the movies…there’s no call for that kind of nonsense in my classroom).

Secondly, I was inspired once I realized that Harry Potter and The Lord of the Rings are basically the same story: an unlikely protagonist becomes a key fighter in a vast magical war, accompanied by close friends who, together, face death, betrayal, and dark magic in a fantastically epic world (created by the genius mind of a British author known by strikingly vague initials rather than a first name).

And thirdly, I’m interested in harkening back to a time before Harry Potter was LITERALLY THE COOLEST THING EVER. This series may have one of the strongest fandoms in the world, but like any fandom, it earned its popularity. Did you know that there are people who are not a part of the Harry Potter fan community? I assume they are simply overwhelmed by the ridiculous in-your-face-ness of said fan community’s enthusiasm. Let’s face it–we’re a crazy group.

But someone needs to save the pour souls that seem to avoid this fantastic Wizarding World like the plague. Someone needs to let them know that in the beginning, Harry Potter was simply about an orphan trapped under the stairs.

Enter Professor Jeffrey (cue John Williams music).

When readers meet Harry, he is a child bullied by his aunt, uncle, and obnoxiously spoiled cousin. I imagine J.K. Rowling writing to a very specific reader–a child in a scary, uninviting world. Then arrives his letter of acceptance to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, and an adventure begins.

I, personally, have waited for my Hogwarts acceptance letter for about 15 years. But it’s okay, because my dreams of going to Hogwarts came alive through seven novels and eight movie adaptations following Harry on his journey. The Harry Potter books are one of the defining moments in my childhood, and this is the case for many other readers as well. This series was our hope of escaping a world we were afraid of.

Once the series springs from this foundation, it soars into one of the most innovative fantasy worlds ever created. Magical spells next to beautifully written characters; wizarding politics and wizarding sports; a boarding-school castle with more secrets than a child could dream of; a brooding and dynamic villain in a complex wizarding war; and through it all, a mostly unbiased boy-wizard hero with a courageous heart and a sometimes-simple head. It’s the adventure of a lifetime.

Don’t get me wrong–if Harry Potter isn’t your taste, don’t waste your time. There are tons of books to read. Don’t limit yourself to what’s most popular. But I would be letting you down as my students if I didn’t educate you on why it is so important. Besides everything listed above, here is the gist: it’s important because it meaningfully discusses and challenges topics like ethics, death, friendship, education, love, coming-of-age, hope, and magic, all in a kid-friendly, not-condescending way. Not a lot of authors can do that with as much gusto as Rowling put forth.

I’ll definitely be including quotes from the novels in the coming week. Some of you may have noticed that I’ve included a few quotes on my blog–extra credit is reserved for those who come in on Mondays and Fridays, not just Wednesdays. You’re not required to come to class on those days, but if you do, you’ll be letting me know how much fun my class is. And I know some of you are having fun!

As an added assignment (NOT extra credit…this is the regular credit), I’d like to hear from you. Harry Potter means a lot to me, and I’m sure it means a lot to you and your classmates. Leave a comment about what Harry Potter means to you, or has meant to you in the past. If the importance of the Harry Potter series is partly found in the meaningfulness it has in the lives of its fans, then it would be a disservice to leave out your own story.

Enjoy your week, and I look forward to hearing from you.

Prof. Jeffrey

Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland

August 31, 2016 / wordsmith2294

Hello, class, and welcome back. I hope you’ve had a good week.

I’ve spent the last week reading Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland. I’ll bet you know the story. You’ve probably seen the Tim Burton movie, or the old Disney movie. Some of you may have seen the short-lived TV show Once Upon a Time in Wonderland. The curiouser of you may have noticed the subtle Alice references in movies like The Matrix or Still Alice. Then there are the fans of T-Swift’s “Wonderland” from her 1989 album.

This story has saturated our culture. We are still swimming in Alice’s pool of tears (thank you, for those of you clapping in the back; yes, it was a good joke). That should be enough of a reason to read it—if you’re going to at least try to understand all of those down-the-rabbit-hole-, mad-hatter-, caterpillar-hookah-jokes, you might as well read the book to see what the fuss is about.

But my opinion, for the two cents that its worth, is that Alice has saturated our culture because of something more important. It has some inner beauty, some strange quality…something that makes it stand the test of time and spawn hundreds of adaptations and pop-culture references. I don’t think it’s Wonderland that makes it so special (but that place is a TRIP, to say the least). I don’t think it’s the adventures Alice has there, either. I think it’s Alice.

She’s some kind of “every-child.” She’s far from normal and that’s what makes her matter—no child on the planet actually fits the definition of “normal.” The weirdness of Alice makes her relatable. She talks to herself as if she’s two people (who hasn’t done that). Her adventures make her question if she’s still Alice at all, and at one point she decides that she must be some girl named Mabel, since she’s changed so much. Even the poetry she’s been trained to recite (let me go ahead and disagree with that “educational” practice right there…alright, moving on) comes out wrong. Not bad, just wrong—different than she learned it. She clashes with the Victorian England she’s been raised in.

Without even trying, she subverts the rules, etiquette, politics, and education of her society. It sets her apart, forcing her to be lost in this strange Wonderland. And if that’s the case, wouldn’t all children, as represented by Alice, be lost in their own Wonderland? Wouldn’t all children, by being themselves, conflict with what society needs them to be?

YES.

Wonderland isn’t some strange fantasy world. It’s the way children see reality. Rules that don’t make sense, random body changes, identity confusion, and a string of useless lessons…Wonderland is around us here and now. And that’s not necessarily a good thing.

Now, confession time: I am actually rereading Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland. The first time I read it was in a college class, so I get to pretend like I know what I’m talking about. But I do believe it—that Alice was Carroll’s way of subverting Victorian rules by showing their consequences. Wonderland is an amazing place from the outside, students, but Alice’s adventures weren’t as happy-go-lucky for her. I believe Carroll was trying to show us that if we stick to rules, regulations, and the evils of “etiquette,” our children will suffer for it.

Alice didn’t take too long for me to finish (another reason to read it—because it’s quick), so finishing this post wasn’t a strain on my personal life. But my #2 book also happens to be my unofficial #3 and #4 book: the Lord of the Rings Trilogy. It is much longer. Don’t worry, we’ll still have class next week (wipe those frowns off your faces, my class is fun!!). I’ll just be improvising my lecture a tad.

Until next time,

Prof. Jeffrey

Category: Completed Books (Page 5 of 5)

A Christmas Carol

The Grapes of Wrath

The Catcher in the Rye

The Bible

Hamlet