The Three Peasants

Pg. 518
"By this time Don Quixote had kneeled down next to Sanco and looked, with startled eyes and confused vision, at the person Sancho was calling queen and lady, and since he could see nothing except a peasant girl, and one not especially attractive, since she was round-face and snub-nosed, he was so astounded and amazed that he did not dare open his mouth."

I found this passage interesting, and perhaps it defends DQ's sanity. He creates his own reality, but does not believe the patronizing fantasies that Sancho is feeding him. Though, much earlier in the novel, he confused as promiscuous chambermaid (at the inn/castle) to be a beauteous maiden, though her breath was rank. (One of the funniest parts, in my mind). It seems that DQ is the only one capable of inventing his own vision of reality (which is appropriate). Like a little kid with an imaginary friend, you can never tell the child where his/her friend is. If you do you are terribly mistaken and you're probably sitting on it

Don Q

After the Marxist presentation, who's argument of Don Quixote I found convincing, I began to think of Don Quixote differently. His naivete became less endearing, more harmful since Sancho Panza did pay for all of DQ's dismissals of the rules.
But then, because of my English Renaissance Drama capstone class, I began to wonder if Don Quixote isn't more about self-fashioning and less about the glass ceiling. Despite the "warning" at the end of the book, it seems that Don Quixote advocates for social mobility...though this assertion is complicated by the fact that everyone notices DQ's costume, no one is fooled by his knight errantry, and most think he's crazy.
Does this reinforce the glass ceiling? It appears so, but I don't like to believe that. Sancho Panza's social climbing does allow for self-fashioning and the possibility of upward mobility in the classes. Since this book was written on the tail end of the humanism movement, by a non-nobleman, it makes sense that this topic would be complicated, but perhaps hopeful. Afterall, Cervantes has been imortalized...I couldn't tell you who the king of spain was at this time

synopsis of group presentations

New Criticism
aka Formalism
Values technique/structure/rhyme and meter (in poetry)/etc
Stays inside the text

Deconstruction
No absolute meaning in a text
No such thinkg as "outside the text" (differs from New Criticism thus)
Counters the idea of unity.
No "well wrought Urn" of the New Critics
STC
Frye pg 350, No aesthetic principles of self containment may work

Feminism
Reductive:
only looks at how women are treated or portrayed in the text, also how many women there are, and if the text is written by a man or woman. If the work doesn't meet such a critic's standards then it is denounced by said critic.
Expansive:
Bell Hooks; asks what kind of literary work is this? Contextualizes feminism

Reader Response
"spectacles" to see each work differently
Personal interpretation matters

Psychoanalysis
Freud
Ego, Id, Superego
Creation of Modern Age

Marxism
Social heirarchy
Social class
Class struggle

My Apologies

Maggie Casey
Apology of Literature
12/03/08

My Passport is a Library Card:
A Defense of the Immeasurable Merits of Studying Literature


I am twenty-one years old. In my life, I’ve only lived in two towns. I have traveled a bit—to Norway and Mexico, and some parts of the United States that seem like a different country. I consider myself to be relatively intelligent, although perhaps reality TV stars and people who can’t find China on a map are not the best yard stick by which to measure myself. But how can I be a smart person when I’ve lived such a short, sheltered life? I’m majoring in English Literature—a language I’ve spoken since birth, which doesn’t seem too complicated. But if Literature were that easy, even if reading and comprehending a text is all that is required, then why do my friends in Biochemistry complain every time they have to read a book or write a paper? Perhaps it is because Literature is simple in its approach, and challenging in its application that it must be disparaged by those who do not excel at its practice. I would like to take the opportunity to defend my choice to major in English Literature and affirm that not only is it a highly educational experience but a spiritual journey as well.

Percy Shelly said that poets are the unacknowledged legislators of the world, an idea that I believe to be true. What is history if not a piece of prose: it has voice, perspective, and a usually one-sided account of events. Movies are modern day theater and the most renowned playwright, William Shakespeare, is also heralded as the epitome of a writer (defined by Keats as Negative Capability). Through my education that has been focused on Literature I have learned about history, theatre, art, and contemporary issues (for who was not affected by Ishmael Beah’s A Long Way Gone?) I can read about science in David Quanum’s The Reluctant Mr. Darwin and learn much more than Darwinian theory. I can read a biography of Marie Antoinette and learn about a culture and sexism in addition to historical events. In reading Plato’s Republic, I learn more about literature than about his broader philosophy. In reading Don Quixote, I can enjoy a literal and comical farce about a wannabe knight errant or a multi-dimensional text about the different aspects of literary criticism.

The world is at my fingertips, quite literally. I can turn a page and be transported through time and space. What a valuable education I can get if I only read! But the questions always come, even to the most enthusiastic English Literature major: ‘what next?’ Yes, I’m capable of being voted MVP for the trivial pursuit game, but that’s not a career.

The questions concerning careers after undergraduate school often bombard all graduates, but towards the English Major I feel that the asker is genuinely curious. After all, what can you do with a degree in English Literature? No one seems to know. Maybe Matthew Arnold knows. Although his Essay “The Study of Poetry” focuses more on the relationship between Religion and Poetry, interpretations allow for a link to be formed between Literature and Education. Education, learning, questioning, is a way of life, the only way of life this undergrad student can imagine. While education is ultimately didactic, (what did you learn at school today?) a degree in English Literature is perplexing because it doesn’t seem practical, and is especially focused on aesthetic value. That’s why I’ve memorized “The Idea of Order at Key West”: for it’s aesthetic value. Matthew Arnold said, “For poetry the idea is everything; the rest of the world is illusion”. My world of poetry is real to me, as if I’m a confidant of Anna Karenina, or a guest at Gatsby’s party. My education is one of transportation; I learn through experiences that aren’t my own, but I’m learning more than I could if I were limited to everyday experiences.

English Literature majors and Don Quixote have a lot in common: our ideas are real, and we prefer to live in a world of books, instead of a world held together by the rough theories of physics. The world of chemistry and quantum physics seems made-up, to me: like the theory about soap bubble galaxies. The world I live in will not change with the discovery of another dimension or a greater understanding of Wormholes in time. My life is changed by words, symbols typed and printed on to the page, symbols of love, life, and beauty. “‘Beauty is truth, truth beauty’ –that is all ye know on earth, and all ye need to know,”: so goes the last line of George Keats’ poem “Ode to a Grecian Urn”. My rather expensive and invaluable education has been directed towards learning this simple maxim. What I study is educational, analytical, and historical, but what I have learned is that there is no letter grade that can reflect the hours of joy I experienced from reading Don Quixote or the peace that I’m brought by reading the Touchstone lines of my favorite books. My education exposes me to religious experiences in literature; I could learn Accounting (if I were so inclined) but Literature is not something one learns, it is something that one experiences.

T.S. Eliot said, “We shall not cease from exploration. And the end of all our exploring will be to arrive where we started and know the place for the first time.” To piggy-back on Eliot’s genius, I feel that this quote encapsulates both my education and my love of literature. Reading is exploring, so whether or not I’m reading about Dorothy trying to get home to Kansas, I am changed by my own share in the character’s experience. I begin reading every night seated in the right hand corner of the couch; I have a cup of tea in my hand, my elbow propped on a pillow, and warm socks. When I finish my book, I’m sitting in the exact same spot with my legs curled under me and while the physical view hasn’t changed, the world looks different. The world is different. I am different, also, better; and I will never cease from exploration.

I am Don Quixote

If Dr. Sexon is right, that the world is divided into pragmatic Sancho Panzas and idealistic Don Quixotes, I must confess that I am a Don Quixote. Every book that I love, I wish I could jump into like Mary Poppins into a chalk painting. Every time I read Gone with the Wind, I get the urge to wear corsets and hoop skirts, to waltz and flirt. I get so emersed in the books that I love, that I wish my emersion was literal. If I could, I would become a part of my favorite books. I would attentd Gatsby's parties, walk the halls of Hogwarts, interview Grace of Margaret Attwood's Alias Grace, watch the bull fights with Jake, from The Sun Also Rises. That's what I consider moving literature, when I am so involved with the pages that I would give anything to live them. I'm sure this is how Don Quixote felt, it's just that he believed that he could live them!

Don Quixote

First Part, Chapter XIV, pg. 99

"Moreover, you must consider that I did not choose the beauty I have, and, such as it is, heaven gave it to me freely, without my requesting or choosing it. And just as the viper does not deserve to be blamed for its venom, although it kills, since it was gven the venom by nature, I do not deserve to be reproved for being beautiful, for beauty in the chaste woman is like a distant fire or sharp-edged sword: they do not burn or cut the person who does not approach them."

I love this entire page, and only relayed a small part of Marcela's self-defense. But, for it's early publication, this is a profoundly feminist argument that doesn't seem to be mocked or satirized by Cervantes or the other characters. This is another example of the low-mimetic in Don Quixote: the chaste virgins, the beautiful damsels, they can be victims, but they can also be criminizlied just as Marcela is because of their beauty. Beauty was considered a curse, a test, in the more strict Christian sects, and it was a woman's fault to be beautiful. In the low-mimetic, life-like version of the story, men are held accountable for their lusts. Even Don Quixote...

Don Quixote and the Low Mimetic

Maybe it's just taken me the entire semester for this to click, but I had a light-bulb moment about 200 pages into Don Q: the novel, while it contains all four seasons, is basically a low-mimetic account of a romantic knight's journey.
I knew that Don Quixote lived in the low-mimetic phase and that he dreamed of the Romantic...but I think this goes beyond what was said in class...or my idea is exactly what Dr. Sexon said, I just didn't put it together until Sancho and Don Q spen 1 paragraph getting their butts kicked and the next page and a half lying in the field discussing how badly they are hurt and whether to seek revenge against their assailants for the damage done.
The novel spends as much time or more talking about how much wine Sancho drinks, whether or not Don Q sleeps, and how hungry they are as it does about their adventures and conflicts. It's humorous because Don Quixote doesn't know if knights errant are allowed to sleep because he's never read an account of it: by definition Romance does not concern it's self with the mundane events of life like the Low-mimetic does.
so, my appologies if this is simply a repetition of a point that has been made all semester long, but I gained a new perspective reading instead of simply listening to the genius insights of Dr. Sexson.

Don Q Cartoon

You know you are contributing part of culture when you have your own cartoon and theme song, several hundred years after you star in a big-ass book.
check it out for a laugh: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=w4tFzD13hmc&feature=related

Don Quixote

First Part, Chapter VI, pg. 52
"'I would shed [tears] myself,' said the priest when he heard the name, 'if I had sent sucha book to be burned, because its author was one of the famous poets on only of Spain but of the world, and he had great success in translating some fables by Ovid."

I guess I touched upon this in my last passage, but who the author is seems to be of great importance to the priest. Authors are often made into something marketable, whether they fit it or not. Authors who have had success are expected to maintain it: Steven King, anyone? I can only recall a few things he's written, but I would expect certain things of his novels. What about Dan Brown...anything besides a history/thriller would throw me off, and maybe I wouldn't like it because it conflicted with what I wanted. But to stay on track. The Author's name alone, whether any information is known or not, influences readers.

Don Quixote

First Part, Chapter VI, pg 51
"'By the orders I recieved,' said the priest, 'since Apollo was Apollo, and the muses muses, and the poets poets, no book as amusing or nonsensical has ever been written, and since, in its way, it is the best and most unusual book of its kind that has seen the light of day, anyone who has not read it can assume that he has never read anything entertaining. Giv it to me, friend, for I value finding it more than if I were given a cassock of rich Florentine cloth.'"

This passage gives credit to the classical myths and authors...which is still done today. (Anyone read Homer's Odyssey lately?) This is part of the European tradition of literature, and adorns the hightest spot on our chart as Myth. But in this passage the priest/critic is also praising entertaintment, which he seemed to discourage earlier in the chapter. Is it a different case because he finds it entertaining? It seems that this chapter is painting the critic as being influenced chiefly by his or her personal taste...and I wonder if it is possible to escape opinion when reviewing any piece.

Don Quixote

First Part, Chapter VI, pg. 47
"'The author of that book,' said the priest, 'was the same one who composed Garden of Flowers, and the truth is I can't decide which of the two is more true, or should I say, less false; all I can say is that this one goes to the corral, because it is silly and arrogant.'"

I know we've talked about chapter six in reference to censorship, but I wanted to look at it again. I found the scene very comical, whereas censorship usually irks me to no end. But it is also declaring a larger Truth about literature, that it should be more true, less silly and arrogant. But the priest is imposing a value on Don Quixote's books. It is a tragedy that many fine books get lost in the mean time.

Don Quixote

First Part, Chapter V, pg. 43
"'I know who I am' replied Don Quixote, 'and I know I can be not only those I have mentioned but the Twelve Peers of France as well, and even all the nine paragons of Fame, for my deeds will surpass all those they performed , together or singly.'"

As for me, I wish I had the confidence of Don Quixote. I liked the sound of this passage, first of all, then I read the footnotes, telling me of the knights to whom Don Quixote compared himself. The farmer is correcting Don Quixote's identity, but really, only an individual can know one's self. This part gave his character a lucidity for me, depth to the Don surrounded in madness. Even if there seems to be no distinction between himself and the fictional (I think) knights that appeared in The Song of Roland. This is another example of Don Quixote making his own reality, which is seen as insane by his family, by everyone. For me, that's the best part of this novel; I root for him, although he's a little crazy, because few else do.

Don Quixote

Part I, Chap V, pg. 41
"and his madness made him recall that of Valdovinos and the Marquis of Mantua, when Carloto left him wounded in the highlands, a history know to children, acknowleged by youths, celerated, and even believed by the old, and despite all this, no truer than the miracles of Mohammed."

This passage reminded me of the idea of innocence that we often talk about in class, that children can understand something and believe it and not be hindered by what is real. The valliant Don Quixote has the same child-like innocence, but because he believes the stories, they are real to him. That's why he begins to recite the ballad of the "wounded Knight of the Wood". But by reciting the ballad, and being a wounded knight, he becomes the original "wounded Knight". By participating in the fictional histories of his knights he is making the fantasy real.

Melody

Are there different kinds of the sublime? Because my Song of the Moment, the song that I've been listening to over and over lately, well, I still don't know all of the words. So silly question: is poetry really about the words? Essentially, poems need words, but the emotion that is brings out in you is what makes any piece a personal touchstone. I might have chosen my first touchstone, the dream-banter from Romeo and Juliet, because of the way it sounds in the Baz Lurhman movie. I understand Chris' touchstone, because sound, melody, rhythm can reach the sublime, maybe easier, than any words can. The right words can trigger those emotions, but music is almost easier because it requires no translation, it speakes directly to the sublime.
Some musc that are Touchstones:
Seven Year Ache, by Roseanne Cash
Panch and Lefty, by Willie Nelson and Merle Haggerd
"The poets tell how Pancho fell
And Lefty's living, in cheep motels
The deserts quiet, and Clevland's cold
So the story end's we're told
Pancho needs your prayers it's true
But save a few for Lefty too
He only did what he had to do
And now he's growing old"
And writing the words, I know that I can't possibly translate the real poetry that is in the quiver of Merle Haggerd's voice in addition to his words.

Also, the Classical Techno Remix of the matrix theme song...but I think I love it for the piano solo.

Clapton's Layla, for the music part, though, more than any lyrics.

What's in a name?

I guess Mathew Arnold's argument that poetry can replace religion doesn't seem very radical to me. It's logical, if passion for poetry can be logical (which I don't think it can. It's emotional). If I can generalize about the way in which the Hebrew Bible was meant to be read, it's a collection of stories. Some are instructive, some are allagorical, but some are just beautiful. I'm not religious, but I can appreciate the beautiful poetry of a culture.
My touchstone passages are those because I can't help but think of them, sometimes once a day. Or sometimes I forget about them for a long time, but every time I read them, whether it's the second time or the hundreth, I'm moved. I think that's what church is supposed to do for you, once a week or month or year you feel moved by your expereince there. I wouldn't know. But poetry moves me, the rhythm of words moves me, the cadence can be comforting.
Sometimes it's the words, other times it's just the idea of beauty or strenght that it creates.
Here's another one:
Kubla Khan, the first and last stanza

In Xanadu did Kubla Khan
A Stately pleasure dome decree:
Where Alph the sacred river, ran
Through caverns measureless to man
Down to the sunless sea...

That sunny dome! Those caves of ice!
And all who heard should see them there
And all should cry Beware! Beware!
His flashing eyes! His floating hair!
Weave a circle round him thrice,
And close your eyes with holy dread,
For he on honey-dew hath fed,
And drunk the mild of paradise

Yet Another Touchstone Passage

I'm not just trying to add up my blog posts, I swear. This assignment was exciting for me, because so many of these books are a part of me, of what I think, and I want to share it with Dr. Sexson and the class.
After taking Intro to Classical Lit. with Dr. Sexson, and hearing him recite the opening passage of Lolita to us, I had to go out and buy the book. I like the book, but I love the opening passage. And I still hear Dr. Sexson's voice reading it...

"Lolita, light of my life, fire of my loins. My sin, my soul. Lo-lee-ta: the tip of the tounge taking a trip of three steps down the palate to tap, at three on the teeth. Lo. Lee. Ta.
"She was Lo, plain Lo, in the morning, standing fourfeet ten in one sock. She was Lola in slacks. She was Dolly at school. She was Dolores on the dotted line. But in my arms she was alsway Lolita."

Another Touchstone (#3)

From: The Great Gatsby

"And as I sat there brooding on the old, unknown, world, I thought of Gatsby's wonder when he first picke out the green light at the end of Daisy's dock. He had come a long way to this blue lawn, and his dream must have seemed so close that he could hardly fail to grasp it. He did not know that it was already behind him, somewhere back in that vast obscurity beyond the city, where the dark fields of the republic rolled on under the night.
"Gatsby believed in the green light, the orgastic future that year by year recedes before us. It eluded us then, but that's no matter--tomorrow we will run faster, stretch out our arms farther...And one fine morning--
"So we beat on, boats against the current, borne back ceaselessly into the past."

I've read this novel several times, and the first time, I was pretty young and I didn't quite understand the didactic quality of the ending. But I liked it, it sounded nice. And as far as it's didacticism, that changes every time I read it, but no matter how old I am, I still love the ending passage.

Touchstone #2

The entire book of Peter Pan could be one of my touchstones, but I'll only select a few passages.

"She was a lovely lady, with a romantic mind and such a sweet mocking mouth. Her romantic mind was like the tiny boxes, one within the other, that come from the puzzling East, however many you discover there is always one more; and her sweet mocking mouth had one kiss on it that Wendy could never get, though there it was, perfectly conspicuous in the right-hand corner."

"Stars are beautiful, but they may not take an active part in anything, they must just look on for ever. It is apunishment put on them for some thing they did so long ago that no star now knows what it was. So the older ones have become glassy-eyed and seldom speak (winking is the star language), but the little ones still wonder."

My Touchstone(s). #1

Yes, there are several. but I can't help it. As soon as I tried to think of poetry, or pieces of poetic prose, I thought of more. Here are some, and I'm sure that this list will be added to:

From Shakespeare's Rome and Juliet:
r: I dreamt a dream tonight
m: well so did I!
r: and what was yours?
m: that dreamers often lie
r: in bed asleep while they do dream things true
m: then I see queen mab hath been with you

Although it's been years, since my freshman year of high school, since I've read the play, and even though my copy is on my bookshelf in Colorado, I thought of this passage. It's memorized, actually. Which I'm pretty proud of considering my struggles with Idea of Order in Key West

Dover Beach by Mathew Arnold

The sea is calm to-night.The tide is full, the moon lies fair
Upon the straits; on the French coast the light
Gleams and is gone; the cliffs of England stand;
Glimmering and vast, out in the tranquil bay.
Come to the window, sweet is the night-air!
Only, from the long line of spray
Where the sea meets the moon-blanched land,
Listen! you hear the grating roar
Of pebbles which the waves draw back, and fling,
At their return, up the high strand,
Begin, and cease, and then again begin,
With tremulous cadence slow, and bring
The eternal note of sadness in.

Sophocles long ago
Heard it on the A gaean, and it brought
Into his mind the turbid ebb and flow
Of human misery; we
Find also in the sound a thought,
Hearing it by this distant northern sea.

The Sea of Faith
Was once, too, at the full, and round earth's shore
Lay like the folds of a bright girdle furled.But now I only hear
Its melancholy, long, withdrawing roar,
Retreating, to the breath
Of the night-wind, down the vast edges drear
And naked shingles of the world.

Ah, love, let us be true
To one another! for the world, which seems
To lie before us like a land of dreams,So various, so beautiful, so new,
Hath really neither joy, nor love, nor light,
Nor certitude, nor peace, nor help for pain;
And we are here as on a darkling plain
Swept with confused alarms of struggle and flight,
Where ignorant armies clash by night.

Tid-bits on Critic Henry Louis Gates

A few things to know about my critic, Henry Louis Gates:
*Grew up in West Virginia
*He had a football injury when he was young, and having medical aspirations, he diagnosed himself and relayed it to the doctor. The doctor said that his condition was "psychosimatic"...because his dream of being a doctor was considered over-reaching for an African American.
*Gates' criticism focus' on the African American literature and culture. His works were an effort to establish the African American canon: he stated in the New York Times Book Review, "our efforts to define a black American canon are often decried as racist, separatist, nationalist, or 'essentialist" but he honestly feels that the African American canon needs to be established because it contrasts the Western/Euro canon.
*"He argues that most systems used to judge art are culturally specific. Black work cannot be appreciated or criticized on the basis of a Western cultural aesthetic" (Gale).
*For example: "signifying" in black culture (as far as I understand) is the questioning of the literal. Because the languages, the stories, the folktales, and the music of the early African American slaves were a form of masked communication.
*He wrote an article for Sports Illustrated saying that the black community saw success through basketball, not intellecutalism..."a very poor index to our social advancement or political progress," he wrote in the New York Times — but also by blacks' attitude toward education and athletics. "Imbued with a belief that our principal avenue to fame and profit is through sport, and seduced by a win-at-any-cost system that corrupts even elementary school students, far too many black kids treat basketball courts and football fields as if they were classrooms in an alternative school system," (Gale).

About: My Book and Heart Shall Never Part

To me, one of the most interesting aspects of My Book and Heart Shall Never Part is it's form. On the first day of class we talked about literature's pervasiveness. It's everywhere, even in Chemistry, we said. Well, I believe that literature is also in the movies, just as poetry is in music. It makes sense: a popular book will recieve the honor of a hollywood stamp and play soon in a theater near you. I.E. the Davinci Code...
Well, if literature can be found anywhere, it does make sense that you can make an essay in any form...like a movie. And then I will agree with Ben and his frustration with technology. (It's supposed to work!) A written essay doesn't skip, but there are many things that words cannot do that cute kids can.

Pyros Game

The pyros game is the sacred marriage between the "bottom" and the "top". On the charts, when you get to the bottom, there's no place to go but up.

T.S. Elliott said, "We shall not cease from exploration, and at the end of our exploring we shall arrive where we stared and know the place for the first time."

More Charts!!

Anceint-- Mimentic-- World (universe)
Neo-classical-- Pragmatic-- Audience
Modern-- Objective-- Work
Romantic-- Expressive-- Artist

The Idea of Order at Key West and the above chart

The World= the sea (even though it's no longer important, it's just the place she sings)

The Artist= is the singer

The Work= is the song

The Audience= is the understood "we"/ their lives have changed because of her song

She is the poet. Poesis: "The Maker" in greek

Dante's 4 Levels of Interpretation

1. Literal-- historic

2. Alagorical-- connects old and new testament

3. Moral-- how one should act in the present

4. Anagogical-- spiritual/hell and heaven

Like the other theories we've been studying, Dante's levels are declining, with the most important--Anagogical--as the base.

Banned Books and Modern Censorship

So last week in class we talked about censorship and the arbitrary way in which the characters in Don Quixote chose which books were acceptable. Personal variables in criticism are bad, but this list, provided by Time, shows that personal viewpoints are really the only opinions that get books banned or protested like when it was argued that Brave New World opposes an optimistic view point. This is most seen in reference to the Harry Potter series, which anyone who had read and enjoyed them cannot really imagine it's promotion of devil worship. However, I didn't know before reading this article that Salmon Rushdie had a price on his head and had to hide for ten years after publishing The Satanic Verses. I really enjoyed this article: http://www.time.com/time/specials/packages/article/0,28804,1842832_1842838_1845265,00.html

But if you don't have time here's the short version:

Candide by Voltaire

The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn by Mark Twain

Brave New World by Aldous Huxley

Nineteen Eighty-Four by George Orwell (some said that it promoted communism...hmmm?)

The Catcher in the Rye by J.D. Salinger

Lolita by Vladimir Nabokov (not too surprising, even if Dr. Sexson recites the first paragraph beautifully)

I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings by Maya Angelou (on one account because it depicts racism graphically...but isn't that the point?)

The Anarchist Cookbook by William Powell (who later apologized for the novel, but since he no longer owns the rights, he can't get it banned or even stop publishing it)

The Satanic Verses Salmon Rushdie

The Harry Potter series by J.K. Rowling

palin speak

"Artists use lies to tell the truth, while politicians use them to cover the truth up..."--V for Vendetta

Just couldn't help but think of this insight to rhetoric and who uses it.

In Response to the Critic of Movie Critics...

When we were talking about this in class...that there is a journalist who thinks that movie critics should be nicer to those poor movie stars who have to go home and cry into a bag of money after a bad review...sorry, tangent...well, it made me think of the movie Almost Famous. It's a good movie, and if you haven't seen it, you should: good classic rock sound track, Kate Hudsen has ringlets, and it's genuinely entertaining. But now I see it as a defence of the integrity and importance of criticism.

Lester Bangs was a semi-popular rock critic who wrote free lance for Rolling Stone Magazine...well, he was criticized for being too critical (this is evident in this interview http://www.furious.com/Perfect/lesterbangs.html ) Anyway, in the movie he mentors the main character and warns him agains writing "sanctamoneous stories about the genius of rock stars" because it will ruin rock and roll. The main character goes on tour with a rock and roll group in the 70s with the aim of writing a cover article for Rolling Stone, but he's young and he gets swept up in the world and becomes friends with group. In the end he follows Lester's advice and is "honest and unmerciful" in his article.

The consequence for being to friendly and praising is making the industry more powerful. We are consumers who deserve products that are the result of the best effort made. Critics keep artists honest.

Then, of course, MTV blew that to hell.

Don Quixote, page 21

"In short, our gentleman became so caught up in reading that he spend his nights reading from dusk till dawn and his days reading from sunrise to sunset, and so with too little sleep and too much reading his brains dried up, causing him to lose his mind."

Well, if we are to believe the narrator's assertion that in Don Quixote there is "absolutely no deviation from the truth," then I fear for my sanity as an English Lit major. :)

But, in all seriousness, the premise of Don Quixote, that he lost his mind reading his favorite books and wanting to live them, is relatable because there have been many books that I wished I could be transported into. I think anyone who loves reading has had some experience, whether it was with the Harry Potter series or something equally fascinating. My boyfriend really likes Star Wars books; he likes them because they transport him, they make him want to interact with that world and to be a part of it. And when I was reading Harry Potter, I would go to bed too late, thinking of the chapters in Hogwarts, and dream that I was there telling Harry not to be such a "prat" (because in my dream I'm also Brittish). Also, given the opportunity, I would don a hoop skirt, corset, and prance around like Scarlett O'Hara. I reread that book every now and then, just to relive the expirience. But, like drugs, I can't get the same high I got the first time, no matter how hard I try. I think that it's because avid readers have such a desire to be transported by their favorite stories that Don Quixote has enjoyed popularity and respect for several centuries.

There's no place like home...?

"We shall not cease from exploration, and the end of our exploring will be to arrive where we started and know the place for the first time. "
--T.S Eliot

But, in the case of The Wizard of Oz, it's ironic that the only way Dorothy appreciates her own home is to leave it. She must learn about her own home was by going "over the rainbow", and then she learns that she never wanted to leave...but she had to leave in order to realize this. Ergo leaving home is necessary, even if it's not desirable.

The Idea of Order at Key West...by Wallace Stevens

She sang beyond the genius of the sea.
The water never formed to mind or voice,
Like a body wholly body, fluttering
Its empty sleeves; and yet its mimic motion
Made constant cry, caused constantly a cry,
That was not ours although we understood,
Inhuman, of the veritable ocean.

The sea was not a mask. No more was she.
The song and water were not medleyed sound
Even if what she sang was what she heard,
Since what she sang was uttered word by word.
It may be that in all her phrases stirred
The grinding water and the gasping wind;
But it was she and not the sea we heard.

For she was the maker of the song she sang.
The ever-hooded, tragic-gestured sea
Was merely a place by which she walked to sing.
Whose spirit is this? we said, because we knew
It was the spirit that we sought and knew
That we should ask this often as she sang.
If it was only the dark voice of the sea
That rose, or even colored by many waves;
If it was only the outer voice of sky
And cloud, of the sunken coral water-walled,
However clear, it would have been deep air,
The heaving speech of air, a summer sound
Repeated in a summer without end
And sound alone. But it was more than that,
More even than her voice, and ours, among
The meaningless plungings of water and the wind,
Theatrical distances, bronze shadows heaped
On high horizons, mountainous atmospheres
Of sky and sea.

It was her voice that made
The sky acutest at its vanishing.
She measured to the hour its solitude.
She was the single artificer of the world
In which she sang. And when she sang, the sea,
Whatever self it had, became the self
That was her song, for she was the maker. Then we,
As we beheld her striding there alone,
Knew that there never was a world for her
Except the one she sang and, singing, made.

Ramon Fernandez, tell me, if you know,
Why, when the singing ended and we turned
Toward the town, tell why the glassy lights,
The lights in the fishing boats at anchor there,
As the night descended, tilting in the air,
Mastered the night and portioned out the sea,
Fixing emblazoned zones and fiery poles,
Arranging, deepening, enchanting night.
Oh! Blessed rage for order, pale Ramon,
The maker's rage to order words of the sea,
Words of the fragrant portals, dimly-starred,
And of ourselves and of our origins,
In ghostlier demarcations, keener sounds.

Criticism is Everywhere in Literature.

I am a critic, though not as pompus as "Anton Ego", I hope. More often than not, I dislike a book. I either have a feeling that the author is only writing to sell copies, that he or she is trying to be something that they aren't, or that even I could have done a better job. Whether that's my own ego emerging or the fact that I've experienced really good books, I'm not sure. Maybe where the authors of mediocre books fall short is that they worry too much about the critics. This is a problem since every reader is, in my opinion, a critic.
Virginia Woolf said, "Literature is strewn with the wreckage of men who have minded beyond reason the opinions of others". What is essential to writers is to forget the critic; what is essential to the critic is to forget his own critic--and to criticize truely what he reads. Because professional critics, such as Frye, often write books and use words, they create literature.
So, against many more educated decrees, I will continue to criticize William Wordsworth.