Wednesday, March 14, 2007
Zitkala Sa II
Katja
ENGL 48B
Journal # 32, Sa II
14 March, 2007
"It was an old grandfather who had often told me Iktomi legends." (Zitkala Ša 1014)
"[...] I feared a tall, broad-shouldered crazy man, some forty years old, who walked loose among the hills." (1013)
"A brave is buried here." (1015)
Zitkala Ša’s, or Red Bird’s, autobiography lacks men. This omission seems intentionally used in order to add a sense of desolation and desperation to the text.
The reader gets the sense that the man-void is due to numerous catastrophic blows endured by the tribe: violence, mental and physical illness, age and starvation. Utterly marginalized, the tribe is forced along the edge of the Missouri River, unable to venture further. This image is a fitting metaphor for the state of Native American tribes’ struggles throughout the United States at this time. Zitkala Ša well captures what seems like her tribe’s last moments before succumbing to extinction.
Without men there can be no future. The literal state of infertility of Ša’s tribe would have to eventually lead to a dilution of Native blood, as women would have to turn elsewhere to find partners. As the headnotes describe, Ša herself had a white father, something that is not highlighted in her autobiography. Interestingly, her mother says, "The bronzed Dakota is the only real man." (1009), thereby effectively dismissing Ša’s father. This mixed, and frankly passive-aggressive, message would certainly be difficult to decipher for a young girl, and leaves the reader pondering the reasons behind the mother’s bitterness.
The environment Red Bird grew up in was heavily matriarchal, however it is difficult to tell if this was already the tradition of the tribe or if it reflected a cultural shift generated by the significant and rapid loss of male tribal members. Later in Ša’s text, there is evidence of her inability to relate to both men and women. On page 1030 when encountering her employer she thinks, "I thought I heard a subtle note of disappointment in his voice." Ša also illustrates her deep hatred for the inept women teaching her at school, blaming them for "cruel neglect" (1025). Perhaps this mal-adjustment is a function of her strained relationship with her mother and the absence of a father.
ENGL 48B
Journal # 32, Sa II
14 March, 2007
"It was an old grandfather who had often told me Iktomi legends." (Zitkala Ša 1014)
"[...] I feared a tall, broad-shouldered crazy man, some forty years old, who walked loose among the hills." (1013)
"A brave is buried here." (1015)
Zitkala Ša’s, or Red Bird’s, autobiography lacks men. This omission seems intentionally used in order to add a sense of desolation and desperation to the text.
The reader gets the sense that the man-void is due to numerous catastrophic blows endured by the tribe: violence, mental and physical illness, age and starvation. Utterly marginalized, the tribe is forced along the edge of the Missouri River, unable to venture further. This image is a fitting metaphor for the state of Native American tribes’ struggles throughout the United States at this time. Zitkala Ša well captures what seems like her tribe’s last moments before succumbing to extinction.
Without men there can be no future. The literal state of infertility of Ša’s tribe would have to eventually lead to a dilution of Native blood, as women would have to turn elsewhere to find partners. As the headnotes describe, Ša herself had a white father, something that is not highlighted in her autobiography. Interestingly, her mother says, "The bronzed Dakota is the only real man." (1009), thereby effectively dismissing Ša’s father. This mixed, and frankly passive-aggressive, message would certainly be difficult to decipher for a young girl, and leaves the reader pondering the reasons behind the mother’s bitterness.
The environment Red Bird grew up in was heavily matriarchal, however it is difficult to tell if this was already the tradition of the tribe or if it reflected a cultural shift generated by the significant and rapid loss of male tribal members. Later in Ša’s text, there is evidence of her inability to relate to both men and women. On page 1030 when encountering her employer she thinks, "I thought I heard a subtle note of disappointment in his voice." Ša also illustrates her deep hatred for the inept women teaching her at school, blaming them for "cruel neglect" (1025). Perhaps this mal-adjustment is a function of her strained relationship with her mother and the absence of a father.
Tuesday, March 13, 2007
Zitkala Sa
Katja
ENGL 48B
Journal # 31, Sa
13 March, 2007
"But I know my daughter must suffer keenly in this experiment. [...] Go, tell them that they may take my little daughter, and that the Great Spirit shall not fail to reward them according to their hearts." (Zitkala Ša 1019).
Zitkala Ša’s autobiography offers the reader some expected insights into Native American life and highlights some profound cultural differences.
As a child of about eight years of age, Ša is expected to make the decision whether to go east with the missionaries on her own. Her mother has advised her but the task is ultimately hers. Ša is even free to make a decision contrary to her mother’s advice. The goal would be to raise an independent and confident child capable of making pivotal decisions, setting goals and assuming personal responsibility. Whether this is a true measure of Native American culture or Ša’s mother is somewhat inconclusive, however one has to admire the character building of this parenting technique. It represents an almost utopian gesture of respect and trust from parent to child, certainly not something modern times witnesses very often.
Ša’s experience stands in stark contrast to the lives of today’s coddled youngsters who are unable to decide anything for themselves and who are being raised to be complete dependents of their parents. In some ways I think kids of single parents, like Ša, may have an advantage in terms of independence because there are no conflicting parental messages and a higher need for self-reliance.
The type of strong and stoic parent portrayed in Ša’s work makes for an unconventional role model. I was fascinated by the mother’s unwillingness to forgive her daughter’s missteps, a well as her unwillingness to cry in front of her daughter and her attachment to her own role models (the uncle). Yet she shows her daughter tremendous tenderness, and how to remain true to one’s own ideals.
ENGL 48B
Journal # 31, Sa
13 March, 2007
"But I know my daughter must suffer keenly in this experiment. [...] Go, tell them that they may take my little daughter, and that the Great Spirit shall not fail to reward them according to their hearts." (Zitkala Ša 1019).
Zitkala Ša’s autobiography offers the reader some expected insights into Native American life and highlights some profound cultural differences.
As a child of about eight years of age, Ša is expected to make the decision whether to go east with the missionaries on her own. Her mother has advised her but the task is ultimately hers. Ša is even free to make a decision contrary to her mother’s advice. The goal would be to raise an independent and confident child capable of making pivotal decisions, setting goals and assuming personal responsibility. Whether this is a true measure of Native American culture or Ša’s mother is somewhat inconclusive, however one has to admire the character building of this parenting technique. It represents an almost utopian gesture of respect and trust from parent to child, certainly not something modern times witnesses very often.
Ša’s experience stands in stark contrast to the lives of today’s coddled youngsters who are unable to decide anything for themselves and who are being raised to be complete dependents of their parents. In some ways I think kids of single parents, like Ša, may have an advantage in terms of independence because there are no conflicting parental messages and a higher need for self-reliance.
The type of strong and stoic parent portrayed in Ša’s work makes for an unconventional role model. I was fascinated by the mother’s unwillingness to forgive her daughter’s missteps, a well as her unwillingness to cry in front of her daughter and her attachment to her own role models (the uncle). Yet she shows her daughter tremendous tenderness, and how to remain true to one’s own ideals.
Thursday, March 08, 2007
Henry James
Katja
ENGL 48B
Journal # 30, James
8 March, 2007
"’Well,’ said Winterbourne, ‘when you deal with natives you must go by the customs of the place. Flirting is a purely American custom; it doesn’t exist here. So when you show yourself in public with Mr. Giovanelli and without your mother—‘" (Henry James 497).
Henry James wrote Daisy Miller: A Study in 1878. The quote here refers to yet another one of Miss Daisy’s uncouth habits: flirting.
Old habits die hard... Miss Daisy is (unfortunately) the epitome of the classless, loud American tourist, suffering from illusions of grandeur and entitlement. The major difference between then and now boil down to waist size and the nowadays ubiquitous American tourist garb of shorts and socks-in-sandals, replacing 1870s haute "white muslin, with a hundred frills and flounces" (470).
I admire Henry James’ sardonic view of his own people. He clearly was able to identify the affectations that shaped the world he moved in, and to use that knowledge to his literary advantage. It strikes me that this faux Europeanism fits remarkably well into this quarter’s overarching theme of the Gilded Age. Additionally, the grand tour world of the late 19th century is quite reminiscent of the way the Romans copied all things Greek when they began to establish their empire. But they say imitation is the sincerest form of flattery...
Miss Daisy is a petulant child who will never get her way, if only because she is too much of a tease and too proud to give in to anything she should desire. She wants it all to come to her, without putting in an iota of work, which makes her goals diffuse and insincere at best and completely unattainable at worst. Winterbourne realizes that Miss Daisy is a dead end and more than a few pegs below himself on the social ladder. He has lived in Geneva too long to not be imprinted with European tastes and thoughts. Good for Winterbourne!
ENGL 48B
Journal # 30, James
8 March, 2007
"’Well,’ said Winterbourne, ‘when you deal with natives you must go by the customs of the place. Flirting is a purely American custom; it doesn’t exist here. So when you show yourself in public with Mr. Giovanelli and without your mother—‘" (Henry James 497).
Henry James wrote Daisy Miller: A Study in 1878. The quote here refers to yet another one of Miss Daisy’s uncouth habits: flirting.
Old habits die hard... Miss Daisy is (unfortunately) the epitome of the classless, loud American tourist, suffering from illusions of grandeur and entitlement. The major difference between then and now boil down to waist size and the nowadays ubiquitous American tourist garb of shorts and socks-in-sandals, replacing 1870s haute "white muslin, with a hundred frills and flounces" (470).
I admire Henry James’ sardonic view of his own people. He clearly was able to identify the affectations that shaped the world he moved in, and to use that knowledge to his literary advantage. It strikes me that this faux Europeanism fits remarkably well into this quarter’s overarching theme of the Gilded Age. Additionally, the grand tour world of the late 19th century is quite reminiscent of the way the Romans copied all things Greek when they began to establish their empire. But they say imitation is the sincerest form of flattery...
Miss Daisy is a petulant child who will never get her way, if only because she is too much of a tease and too proud to give in to anything she should desire. She wants it all to come to her, without putting in an iota of work, which makes her goals diffuse and insincere at best and completely unattainable at worst. Winterbourne realizes that Miss Daisy is a dead end and more than a few pegs below himself on the social ladder. He has lived in Geneva too long to not be imprinted with European tastes and thoughts. Good for Winterbourne!
Charlotte Perkins Gilman III
Katja
ENGL 48B
Journal # 29, Gilman III
8 March, 2007
"She is a perfect and enthusiastic housekeeper, and hopes for no better profession. I verily believe she thinks it is the writing which has made me sick!" (Charlotte Perkins Gilman 836)
The quote, taken from Gilman’s The Yellow Wall-paper, captures the essential tension in the protagonist’s existence. Bound to compare herself to her closest household peer, her sister-in-law, she points out the fundamental differences between the two of them.
John’s wife, the main character, cannot but notice the chipper efficiency of her sister-in-law, which she herself is lacking. Even her husband John carries the family trait; he "is practical in the extreme" (833). To our heroine this busyness seems senseless. I fear she is a lone intellectual among pragmatists. This lack of true friendship adds to the sense of alienation in the story. She is an island of creativity and cerebral activity in an ocean of utility.
One gets the sense that the sister-in-law finds writing equivalent to idleness, which surely is equivalent to sin, and sin can only lead to bad things. I picture the sister-in-law as a whirlwind of efficiency, a somewhat bossy, stout, wholesome character who refuses to take no for an answer. She has gladly accepted her lot in life and hopes to bring her brother’s wife around to her way of thinking.
Gilman’s not so subtle pique at housekeeping as the end-all and be-all of female accomplishment is funny and lets the reader sympathize with the protagonist’s situation. I think Gilman really worked towards changing the female experience with her work. By creating this semi-autobiographical piece she hoped to usher in a new realism regarding women’s lives, emotions and contributions to society.
ENGL 48B
Journal # 29, Gilman III
8 March, 2007
"She is a perfect and enthusiastic housekeeper, and hopes for no better profession. I verily believe she thinks it is the writing which has made me sick!" (Charlotte Perkins Gilman 836)
The quote, taken from Gilman’s The Yellow Wall-paper, captures the essential tension in the protagonist’s existence. Bound to compare herself to her closest household peer, her sister-in-law, she points out the fundamental differences between the two of them.
John’s wife, the main character, cannot but notice the chipper efficiency of her sister-in-law, which she herself is lacking. Even her husband John carries the family trait; he "is practical in the extreme" (833). To our heroine this busyness seems senseless. I fear she is a lone intellectual among pragmatists. This lack of true friendship adds to the sense of alienation in the story. She is an island of creativity and cerebral activity in an ocean of utility.
One gets the sense that the sister-in-law finds writing equivalent to idleness, which surely is equivalent to sin, and sin can only lead to bad things. I picture the sister-in-law as a whirlwind of efficiency, a somewhat bossy, stout, wholesome character who refuses to take no for an answer. She has gladly accepted her lot in life and hopes to bring her brother’s wife around to her way of thinking.
Gilman’s not so subtle pique at housekeeping as the end-all and be-all of female accomplishment is funny and lets the reader sympathize with the protagonist’s situation. I think Gilman really worked towards changing the female experience with her work. By creating this semi-autobiographical piece she hoped to usher in a new realism regarding women’s lives, emotions and contributions to society.
Tuesday, March 06, 2007
Charlotte Perkins Gilman II
Katja
ENGL 48B
Journal # 28, Gilman II
6 March, 2007
"It is dull enough to confuse the eye in following, pronounced enough to constantly irritate and provoke study, and when you follow the lame uncertain curves for a little distance they suddenly commit suicide" (Charlotte Perkins Gilman 834)
In Gilman’s work The Yellow Wall-paper, the not-important-enough-to-be-named female protagonist searches the wallpaper in her chamber of horrors for patterns. She attempts to allow them to led her one way or another, however they only serve to confuse or anger her.
I can imagine that someone caught up in such chaos would believe that any pattern would lend order to life. Caught in an eddy between reality and fantasy, the woman is searching for wallpaper patterns to aid her out of her position of depression and angst, while simultaneously offering a roadmap to her future. Naturally, the reader sees the tragic futility with the woman’s identifying with the wall decor. The irony lies in the fact that any and all previously existing patterns and routines in the woman’s "normal" life have been systematically removed and replaced with a complete set of unknowns in order to benefit her health. On the other hand, one can consider the pattern fixation a mere obsession; a result of her illness and further evidence of her downwards spiral towards the nadir of insanity.
What I found to be incongruous was the fact that the woman was able to be so tightly focused on the wallpaper—"by the hour" (837)—yet failed to be able to follow its figures, as if they were amorphous or indistinct. Gilman allows her character to be quite precise in other descriptions, of the garden and the room itself, while offering descriptions of nondescript-ness when referring to the wallpaper. This technique has the effect of a photograph where some sections are intentionally blurry and other parts of the composition are in focus. It makes you wonder about the blurry parts.
ENGL 48B
Journal # 28, Gilman II
6 March, 2007
"It is dull enough to confuse the eye in following, pronounced enough to constantly irritate and provoke study, and when you follow the lame uncertain curves for a little distance they suddenly commit suicide" (Charlotte Perkins Gilman 834)
In Gilman’s work The Yellow Wall-paper, the not-important-enough-to-be-named female protagonist searches the wallpaper in her chamber of horrors for patterns. She attempts to allow them to led her one way or another, however they only serve to confuse or anger her.
I can imagine that someone caught up in such chaos would believe that any pattern would lend order to life. Caught in an eddy between reality and fantasy, the woman is searching for wallpaper patterns to aid her out of her position of depression and angst, while simultaneously offering a roadmap to her future. Naturally, the reader sees the tragic futility with the woman’s identifying with the wall decor. The irony lies in the fact that any and all previously existing patterns and routines in the woman’s "normal" life have been systematically removed and replaced with a complete set of unknowns in order to benefit her health. On the other hand, one can consider the pattern fixation a mere obsession; a result of her illness and further evidence of her downwards spiral towards the nadir of insanity.
What I found to be incongruous was the fact that the woman was able to be so tightly focused on the wallpaper—"by the hour" (837)—yet failed to be able to follow its figures, as if they were amorphous or indistinct. Gilman allows her character to be quite precise in other descriptions, of the garden and the room itself, while offering descriptions of nondescript-ness when referring to the wallpaper. This technique has the effect of a photograph where some sections are intentionally blurry and other parts of the composition are in focus. It makes you wonder about the blurry parts.
Monday, March 05, 2007
Charlotte Perkins Gilman
Katja
ENGL 48 B
Journal # 27, Gilman
5 March, 2007
"I see her in that long shaded lane, creeping up and down. I see her in those dark grape arbors, creeping all around the garden." (Charlotte Perkins Gilman 841)
"She was standing at the bottom of the garden, watching the river ebb past, when she raised her eyes and saw this person or being, sitting on the white stone bench." (Doris Lessing, To Room Nineteen, 2553)
The first quote is from Charlotte Perkins Gilman’s The Yellow Wall-paper, a story which reminded me greatly of Doris Lessing’s To Room Nineteen, which supplied the second quote.
Both stories feature women on the brink of insanity stuck in rooms at the tops of their vast and romantically dilapidated houses. Gilman’s story is from 1892 and Lessing’s dates to 1963. Interestingly, both of these years represent eras in which women’s rights were hotly contested and current issues.
I love Doris Lessing and had read much of her work prior to taking ENGL 46C with Ms. Williams, who assigned Room, yet I had never heard of Gilman before this class. It is truly amazing how similar these stories are. The themes and settings are the same as is the spiraling of women’s minds into states of disconnection and alienation. Additionally, both protagonists are mired in marriages lacking in mutual love and respect. Both fictional husbands capaciously fulfill every feminist’s nightmare vision of the husband: the condescending, moronic, sadistic, simplistic shape hogging the blankets at the other end of the marital bed, all the while dreaming of a girl less evolved than himself.
What struck me first was the similarity of something viewed in the gardens of the houses. Male or female, these images or hallucinations simultaneously represent something seductive and abhorrent to the two women, perhaps their unconscious ids. (The gender tension in these two stories make it hard to avoid Freudian context). Their repressed states can only serve to fuel their destructive imaginations as opposed to allowing them to tap into their constructive inner lives. I get the sense that they are afraid of actually living their own lives, as they do not know how. Their lives belong to others.
Works cited:
Lessing, Doris. "To Room Nineteen." The Norton Anthology of English Literature. 8th ed. Ed. M.H. Abrams and Stephen Greenblatt. New York: W.W. Norton & Company, 2006. 2553.
ENGL 48 B
Journal # 27, Gilman
5 March, 2007
"I see her in that long shaded lane, creeping up and down. I see her in those dark grape arbors, creeping all around the garden." (Charlotte Perkins Gilman 841)
"She was standing at the bottom of the garden, watching the river ebb past, when she raised her eyes and saw this person or being, sitting on the white stone bench." (Doris Lessing, To Room Nineteen, 2553)
The first quote is from Charlotte Perkins Gilman’s The Yellow Wall-paper, a story which reminded me greatly of Doris Lessing’s To Room Nineteen, which supplied the second quote.
Both stories feature women on the brink of insanity stuck in rooms at the tops of their vast and romantically dilapidated houses. Gilman’s story is from 1892 and Lessing’s dates to 1963. Interestingly, both of these years represent eras in which women’s rights were hotly contested and current issues.
I love Doris Lessing and had read much of her work prior to taking ENGL 46C with Ms. Williams, who assigned Room, yet I had never heard of Gilman before this class. It is truly amazing how similar these stories are. The themes and settings are the same as is the spiraling of women’s minds into states of disconnection and alienation. Additionally, both protagonists are mired in marriages lacking in mutual love and respect. Both fictional husbands capaciously fulfill every feminist’s nightmare vision of the husband: the condescending, moronic, sadistic, simplistic shape hogging the blankets at the other end of the marital bed, all the while dreaming of a girl less evolved than himself.
What struck me first was the similarity of something viewed in the gardens of the houses. Male or female, these images or hallucinations simultaneously represent something seductive and abhorrent to the two women, perhaps their unconscious ids. (The gender tension in these two stories make it hard to avoid Freudian context). Their repressed states can only serve to fuel their destructive imaginations as opposed to allowing them to tap into their constructive inner lives. I get the sense that they are afraid of actually living their own lives, as they do not know how. Their lives belong to others.
Works cited:
Lessing, Doris. "To Room Nineteen." The Norton Anthology of English Literature. 8th ed. Ed. M.H. Abrams and Stephen Greenblatt. New York: W.W. Norton & Company, 2006. 2553.
Thursday, March 01, 2007
Sarah Orne Jewett
Katja
ENGL 48 B
Journal # 26, Jewett
1 March, 2007
"There was an open place where the sunshine always seemed strangely yellow and hot, where tall, nodding rushes grew and her grandmother had warned her that she might sink into the soft black mud underneath and never be heard of more." (600)
The quote is from Sarah Orne Jewett’s story A White Heron, and describes a place where the little girl, Sylvia, is not allowed to venture.
I think Sylvia is dead. She met her fate exactly as stated in the opening quote and is now re-visiting her beloved forest as a "white heron [...] flying through the golden air" (603). Upon close reading, Jewett’s text is brimming with references to death. The description of the child, who is "sleepy" (598) and "paler than ever" (603) with "shining gray eyes" (599) leaves no doubt in my mind as to whether she is dead or not. If you are still not convinced Jewett even writes "it seemed as if she never had been alive at all" (597). Poor Sylvia did not heed her wise grandmother’s advice and took her solitary journey too far.
Sylvia’s grandmother seems grief-stricken, what with all the "family sorrows" (600) and does "not comprehend the gravity of the situation" (599), indicating that the tragedy has been too much for the old woman to bear. Perhaps Sylvia’s death is the straw that broke the camel’s back. I think the grandmother begins to grapple with reality when the stranger points out "a white heron three miles from here" (600).
The stranger is of course a spiritual figure offering guidance. He is "charming and delightful" (601) and with him comes the "premonition of [...] great power" (601). Sylvia’s complete deference to the stranger suggests pious submission. The stranger has arrived as an aid to the grandmother and Sylvia is not yet sure of his identity, she just feels his power.
In the end I think Sylvia’s grandmother will find peace in the fact that she offered her granddaughter a new life in a beautiful place that she came to love deeply.
ENGL 48 B
Journal # 26, Jewett
1 March, 2007
"There was an open place where the sunshine always seemed strangely yellow and hot, where tall, nodding rushes grew and her grandmother had warned her that she might sink into the soft black mud underneath and never be heard of more." (600)
The quote is from Sarah Orne Jewett’s story A White Heron, and describes a place where the little girl, Sylvia, is not allowed to venture.
I think Sylvia is dead. She met her fate exactly as stated in the opening quote and is now re-visiting her beloved forest as a "white heron [...] flying through the golden air" (603). Upon close reading, Jewett’s text is brimming with references to death. The description of the child, who is "sleepy" (598) and "paler than ever" (603) with "shining gray eyes" (599) leaves no doubt in my mind as to whether she is dead or not. If you are still not convinced Jewett even writes "it seemed as if she never had been alive at all" (597). Poor Sylvia did not heed her wise grandmother’s advice and took her solitary journey too far.
Sylvia’s grandmother seems grief-stricken, what with all the "family sorrows" (600) and does "not comprehend the gravity of the situation" (599), indicating that the tragedy has been too much for the old woman to bear. Perhaps Sylvia’s death is the straw that broke the camel’s back. I think the grandmother begins to grapple with reality when the stranger points out "a white heron three miles from here" (600).
The stranger is of course a spiritual figure offering guidance. He is "charming and delightful" (601) and with him comes the "premonition of [...] great power" (601). Sylvia’s complete deference to the stranger suggests pious submission. The stranger has arrived as an aid to the grandmother and Sylvia is not yet sure of his identity, she just feels his power.
In the end I think Sylvia’s grandmother will find peace in the fact that she offered her granddaughter a new life in a beautiful place that she came to love deeply.
Monday, February 26, 2007
Kate Chopin
Katja
ENGL 48 B
Journal # 25, Chopin
26 February, 2007
"The rain was coming down in sheets obscuring the view of far-off cabins and enveloping the distant wood in a gray mist. The playing of the lightning was incessant." (Kate Chopin 631)
Taken from Kate Chopin’s The Storm, this quote is a not so subtle reference to the sexual tension between Alcée and Calixta.
Although scandalous for her day, Chopin’s thinly veiled sexual references strike me as Harlequin-esque in style. The increasing strength of the storm, the exotic and somewhat loose woman, the strong man commanding his horse, the isolated setting.... While we all appreciate some bodice-ripping, steamy sex every so often, Chopin’s message of infidelity bothers me. She is clearly stating that women of lower class (i.e. the lusty ones) cannot expect to find sexual contentment with their husbands and must seek it outside of marriage. Her husband is, of course, a dolt and cannot possibly hold a candle to the dashing, manipulative and higher-class Alcée. The class/sexuality/gender theme is quite disturbing in its Victorian-ness. It makes me sick!
Chopin gives her characters allowance to do what cannot be avoided in shelter of the storm. The convenient pocket of invisibility also seems to give them immunity from any potential accusations as to their encounter: it was stormy, she was frightened, they became possessed, they could not help themselves. While reading, I could not help but think that Calixta’s husband somehow knew to stay at the little store during the storm, following the notion of what he does not know cannot hurt him. After all, why should he be discontent? He has gotten what he wanted: Calixta and a family, while she has given up everything she wanted, which is Alcée to a certain extent, but even more so, freedom and choice.
ENGL 48 B
Journal # 25, Chopin
26 February, 2007
"The rain was coming down in sheets obscuring the view of far-off cabins and enveloping the distant wood in a gray mist. The playing of the lightning was incessant." (Kate Chopin 631)
Taken from Kate Chopin’s The Storm, this quote is a not so subtle reference to the sexual tension between Alcée and Calixta.
Although scandalous for her day, Chopin’s thinly veiled sexual references strike me as Harlequin-esque in style. The increasing strength of the storm, the exotic and somewhat loose woman, the strong man commanding his horse, the isolated setting.... While we all appreciate some bodice-ripping, steamy sex every so often, Chopin’s message of infidelity bothers me. She is clearly stating that women of lower class (i.e. the lusty ones) cannot expect to find sexual contentment with their husbands and must seek it outside of marriage. Her husband is, of course, a dolt and cannot possibly hold a candle to the dashing, manipulative and higher-class Alcée. The class/sexuality/gender theme is quite disturbing in its Victorian-ness. It makes me sick!
Chopin gives her characters allowance to do what cannot be avoided in shelter of the storm. The convenient pocket of invisibility also seems to give them immunity from any potential accusations as to their encounter: it was stormy, she was frightened, they became possessed, they could not help themselves. While reading, I could not help but think that Calixta’s husband somehow knew to stay at the little store during the storm, following the notion of what he does not know cannot hurt him. After all, why should he be discontent? He has gotten what he wanted: Calixta and a family, while she has given up everything she wanted, which is Alcée to a certain extent, but even more so, freedom and choice.
