Reading Carmilla has been a pleasant experience! The language was accessible, the story engrossing. There is a delicious and satisfying sense of creeping and impending evil as the narrator, Laura, comes to know Carmilla over time. I must admit, in reading this delightful vampire story that I was slightly dubious as to how it related to the historical, contextual focus of our class. The idea that Carmilla’s vampire-flavored villain could be symbolically representative of one of the battling factors in Ireland’s political saga is interesting. I suppose Carmilla, as the urgent and seductive lover promising care and security while intending selfish gratification no matter the cost, could be read as an embodiment of the British presence in Ireland’s government. The Irish parliament, effectively controlled by Great Britain, surely did it’s best to ease the growing tide of questioning, complaining, and challenging with assurances that the interests of the people were it’s own, that everyone would be okay, that they were cared for and in good hands. This is not unlike Carmilla’s creepy attempts to woo Laura into a love affair – talk of a grand plan, of mutual destiny, of a love that needn’t concern itself with the well-being of all people … just those who matter. “I live in you; and you would die for me, I love you so.” (Carmilla to Laura, pg.274) This might be me reading too much into Carmilla’s character and the intentions or beliefs of the author. I do, however, find the afore-mentioned similarities between the nature of Carmilla and the role and presence of the Irish parliament to exist regardless, and they are compelling to me.
The role of sexuality in Carmilla seems limited to Carmilla’s character, though in her case it plays a somewhat significant factor in establishing and defining her persona. Her unabashed desire for Laura is both inexplicable and highly telling. Her intentions are selfish, draped in the verbiage of a grand affair for the ages. The fact that her passion is for another woman is not really addressed as odd or troubling within the context of the narrative or the tone of the book. However, if one were to look at the subtext of the characters and the meaning of their personalities, it could be argued that it is significant that Carmilla’s role is that of both lesbian temptress and undead evil vampire monster – in some way correlating the two in kind, if not degree. Again, this theory might be a bit far-reaching, but it could be imagined that Laura’s character could have just as easily been a young man; there has to be some reason the love affair was chosen to be homosexual.
I really enjoyed reading Carmilla; I hope that my understanding of its narrative and its subtext are at least somewhat accurate. It is my hope that at least one of our other readings this semester will involve a monster of some sort; perhaps a Bigfoot or a werewolf.
Tuesday, February 23, 2010
Tuesday, February 16, 2010
Blackface Thady
Greetings, my fellow online classmates! I hope all of you are well.
Susan Egenolf's attempt to connect the portrayal of Thady to the black face and minstrel movement was very provocative and intriguing. After a little thought, it makes sense. As I understand it, black face and minstrelsy were about presenting a “different” people as especially different, and usually with a focused lampooning of those traits and qualities which were seen worthy of mocking. In the case of Thady, this same spirit does seem to be alive in the manner in which he’s presented. His dialect, coupled with his unusually long-winded and multi-tangential approach to conveying ideas and observations, provide an extreme and somewhat comical portrayal of the Irish. Thady’s ill-advised and at times pathetic loyalty to his series of masters can be seen as critical of the intelligence of the Irish landowners of the time.
The comparisons between Maria Edgeworth’s Castle Rackrent and the work of other authors makes sense. I especially can see where the Jonathon Swift comparison fits, as both authors used their prose as a tool of social critique and parody. Both authors couched their insights and criticisms within deceptively comical and witty narratives.
The episode in Castle Rackrent in which Thady conducts a living wake for Sir Condy was, to me, primarily an example of the ridiculousness of the heads of the Rackrent estate. My interpretation of that event was that it indicated the pettiness and shallow nature of Sir Condy, who for all intents and purposes was the most noble of the heads of estate; at least he seemed to be motivated by good, and kindness and generosity for those around him. The fact that he desired a living wake – in order to hear what people thought of him, as far as I could tell – does not speak highly of Sir Condy’s true character. By extension, this does not speak well of Irish landowners in general. However, any sense of the supernatural within this narrative was lost on me.
Please allow me at this time to say that I think reading Egenolf’s Maria Edgeworth in Blackface before Castle Rackrent would have been very helpful, and much preferred to reading it afterwards. Having found the original reading so difficult, I feel I would have benefited from reading some insights and critiques of Rackrent beforehand, to guide and focus my understanding of the text. I think that my ability to understand and appreciate the nuances of Edgeworth’s novel would have been greatly enhanced if I had known going into the novel what its acknowledged intentions were. Instead, I found the book itself to be a long and rambling and oftentimes seemingly pointless series of words and observations. Apparently, there was much between the lines that I was missing. Having struggled through the book regardless, I’m a little sad to know that I absorbed so little of what was intended to be conveyed.
Well that’s it for now. I’m excited to read Carmella … a vampire novella should be much more readily accessible and exciting than the mundane goings-on of Castle Rackrent. Be well everybody.
Susan Egenolf's attempt to connect the portrayal of Thady to the black face and minstrel movement was very provocative and intriguing. After a little thought, it makes sense. As I understand it, black face and minstrelsy were about presenting a “different” people as especially different, and usually with a focused lampooning of those traits and qualities which were seen worthy of mocking. In the case of Thady, this same spirit does seem to be alive in the manner in which he’s presented. His dialect, coupled with his unusually long-winded and multi-tangential approach to conveying ideas and observations, provide an extreme and somewhat comical portrayal of the Irish. Thady’s ill-advised and at times pathetic loyalty to his series of masters can be seen as critical of the intelligence of the Irish landowners of the time.
The comparisons between Maria Edgeworth’s Castle Rackrent and the work of other authors makes sense. I especially can see where the Jonathon Swift comparison fits, as both authors used their prose as a tool of social critique and parody. Both authors couched their insights and criticisms within deceptively comical and witty narratives.
The episode in Castle Rackrent in which Thady conducts a living wake for Sir Condy was, to me, primarily an example of the ridiculousness of the heads of the Rackrent estate. My interpretation of that event was that it indicated the pettiness and shallow nature of Sir Condy, who for all intents and purposes was the most noble of the heads of estate; at least he seemed to be motivated by good, and kindness and generosity for those around him. The fact that he desired a living wake – in order to hear what people thought of him, as far as I could tell – does not speak highly of Sir Condy’s true character. By extension, this does not speak well of Irish landowners in general. However, any sense of the supernatural within this narrative was lost on me.
Please allow me at this time to say that I think reading Egenolf’s Maria Edgeworth in Blackface before Castle Rackrent would have been very helpful, and much preferred to reading it afterwards. Having found the original reading so difficult, I feel I would have benefited from reading some insights and critiques of Rackrent beforehand, to guide and focus my understanding of the text. I think that my ability to understand and appreciate the nuances of Edgeworth’s novel would have been greatly enhanced if I had known going into the novel what its acknowledged intentions were. Instead, I found the book itself to be a long and rambling and oftentimes seemingly pointless series of words and observations. Apparently, there was much between the lines that I was missing. Having struggled through the book regardless, I’m a little sad to know that I absorbed so little of what was intended to be conveyed.
Well that’s it for now. I’m excited to read Carmella … a vampire novella should be much more readily accessible and exciting than the mundane goings-on of Castle Rackrent. Be well everybody.
Tuesday, February 9, 2010
rackrent
Reading Caste Rackrent was a touch unbearable. The paragraphs which lasted more than two pages, the sentences lasting almost as long as the paragraphs, the archaic language … it was all a bit much. Reading which lent itself comfortably to neither silent reading nor to reading aloud.
Anyways, there was a story in there, and I can’t say I found that story all too compelling. I’ll admit, it was amusing at times. The ridiculous degree to which the Rackrent estate was in disarray was comical, as was good ol’ Thady’s pathetically loyal interpretation of the events.
Jason, Thady’s son and Sir Condy’s financial nemesis, is more of a villain than a hero to me. My reading of the story might not be entirely accurate (the unorthodox language and format ensured that), but as far as my understanding is concerned, Jason was a coldly logical investor looking to capitalize off the misfortune of the bone-headed-but-golden-hearted Sir Condy. It seems clear that Condy had a good heart and a terrible way with managing financial decisions; the way Jason seemed so ready and eager to swoop in and capitalize from Condy’s downfall was distasteful to me.
Thady as a narrator was a little tough to take. His tendency to refer to his humble, honest qualities made it clear these qualities most likely did not exist. His unwaivering loyalty to the Rackrent estate, even in the face of financial and social blunders, calls into question his motive for viewing and presenting the Rackrents in such a forgiving iight. He seemed unwilling to admit any wrong on behalf of any of the Rackrents or their clear misdoings. Ultimately this made Thady come across as a somewhat sniveling hanger-on loyalist to a stumbling, failing estate family.
I can’t say I picked up on any of the social, historical, or political over- or –undertones that were apparently contained within the text. I was too busy struggling with the sentences composed of thirty to fifty separate thought snippets, tied together with commas galore. I genuinely struggled my way through the text , having to stop every two or three pages to attempt to render into modern English what I had just read. Upon investigating the terms “1798 Uprising” and “Act of Union,” I came across little which seemed to relate to the novel itself. This is frustrating; I feel as if I were supposed to get more out of the story than just the reward having of completed it, difficult writing considered.
It was interesting, however, to do a little research on the novel itself. Apparently “Castle Rackrent” was the first book o utilize a narrator who’s account is neither accurate nor unbiased. This certainly defines old Thady, as his rose-(I should say Rackrent!)-colored glasses saw little of the goings-on of the Rackrent Estate in anything close to an objective manner. Obviously the preface alludes to the subjective nature of Thady’s narrative, and the benefit to such a skewed report. It paints the picture of life in those times in an intimate, accurate way, and in that regard presents an even more honest account than a dry, factual history of the Rackrent family affairs.
All in all, “Castle Rackrent” was a relatively frustrating first read here in an Introduction to the Irish Novel. I trust future books will be more directly informative and enlightening. Until then … thank you and goodnight.
Anyways, there was a story in there, and I can’t say I found that story all too compelling. I’ll admit, it was amusing at times. The ridiculous degree to which the Rackrent estate was in disarray was comical, as was good ol’ Thady’s pathetically loyal interpretation of the events.
Jason, Thady’s son and Sir Condy’s financial nemesis, is more of a villain than a hero to me. My reading of the story might not be entirely accurate (the unorthodox language and format ensured that), but as far as my understanding is concerned, Jason was a coldly logical investor looking to capitalize off the misfortune of the bone-headed-but-golden-hearted Sir Condy. It seems clear that Condy had a good heart and a terrible way with managing financial decisions; the way Jason seemed so ready and eager to swoop in and capitalize from Condy’s downfall was distasteful to me.
Thady as a narrator was a little tough to take. His tendency to refer to his humble, honest qualities made it clear these qualities most likely did not exist. His unwaivering loyalty to the Rackrent estate, even in the face of financial and social blunders, calls into question his motive for viewing and presenting the Rackrents in such a forgiving iight. He seemed unwilling to admit any wrong on behalf of any of the Rackrents or their clear misdoings. Ultimately this made Thady come across as a somewhat sniveling hanger-on loyalist to a stumbling, failing estate family.
I can’t say I picked up on any of the social, historical, or political over- or –undertones that were apparently contained within the text. I was too busy struggling with the sentences composed of thirty to fifty separate thought snippets, tied together with commas galore. I genuinely struggled my way through the text , having to stop every two or three pages to attempt to render into modern English what I had just read. Upon investigating the terms “1798 Uprising” and “Act of Union,” I came across little which seemed to relate to the novel itself. This is frustrating; I feel as if I were supposed to get more out of the story than just the reward having of completed it, difficult writing considered.
It was interesting, however, to do a little research on the novel itself. Apparently “Castle Rackrent” was the first book o utilize a narrator who’s account is neither accurate nor unbiased. This certainly defines old Thady, as his rose-(I should say Rackrent!)-colored glasses saw little of the goings-on of the Rackrent Estate in anything close to an objective manner. Obviously the preface alludes to the subjective nature of Thady’s narrative, and the benefit to such a skewed report. It paints the picture of life in those times in an intimate, accurate way, and in that regard presents an even more honest account than a dry, factual history of the Rackrent family affairs.
All in all, “Castle Rackrent” was a relatively frustrating first read here in an Introduction to the Irish Novel. I trust future books will be more directly informative and enlightening. Until then … thank you and goodnight.
Tuesday, February 2, 2010
Lloyd Article
So you weren't kidding when you said that Lloyd was going to be tricky. I tried reading it online but it was more so something that needed to be done on a couch, in bed, at work , in the bath. Yep, it wasn't something for one session either it was an article to read and come back to and look over and dwell a little. It was nice to rehash some of the things I learned about Irish history (in my History of Northern Ireland class) and see how someone could relate those events to a topic seemingly unrelated. So besides noticing the fact that Lloyd loves the term "insofar" heres what I've gathered:
So ever since I took this history class I have noticed a generalization on my part, I think of Ireland's history as pure turmoil, you know, the issues with religion, nationalism, unionism, famine, dirty protests and so on. Lloyd expresses that this is usually the generalization made by most , he also states that the violence was more of a "struggle of and Irish people forming itself in sporadic but connected risings against British domination." (125) By this Lloyd implies that this was not violence in vain but one with a purpose and a drive, Ireland was under British dominance and not unlike other forming nations, needed to use violence to get a point across. Lloyd also states that "Violence is understood as an atavistic and disruptive principle" (125) but it seems that Ireland was not given the justification of being a nation under a rule that it wished not to be under.
The above instability was one of the reasons, Lloyd says, people usually give for the inadequacy of the Irish novel. The general instability and violence was not the proper breeding ground for a novel of quality. I feel that what is implied here is that, since the Irish weren't conforming to the English ways it could never have success with writing. The general explosiveness of the Ireland was not the type of environment in which a proper novel could thrive. On the contrary it seems to me that most novels are based on the current going ons of the surroundings of the writer ( at a look at post 9/11 novels i.e. Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close) and how, in a situation tainted with violence can one possibly write a proper novel? It doesn't seem that the novel was seen as a service to a nation by its critics. I feel that a novel's purpose, aside from expressing the feelings of the author) is to bind people with common thoughts and this was obviously not taken into consideration when the success of the 19th century novel was dissected.
This dissection and classification seems to me through Lloyds writing to be judged by some (hoydy-toydy ) Englishmen with wigs and what not (that's just what I see don't ask. I've always wondered what makes a "classic" a "classic" are there criteria that must be matched? Is there a rubric out there? Now, looking back we think of Wilde and JOyce to be classic but was it apparently not always this way. When did it become so? I think that this judgement can easily be made by the government. It seems to be that too often in history have books not just been frown upon but banned all together by a government. Soviet Russia was well known for banning books that disagreed with their ideals Nobel Prize winner and novelist, Boris Pasternak (Dr. Zhivago) was made to turn down his Prize by the pressure of the Soviet government for that exact reason. Even more so it is evident when a more "established" nation discredits writers from less established ones, and this seemed to be the exact case with Britain and Ireland during the 19th century.
In the end I realized that I have never thought of the importance of knowing the history of a nation and relating it to its art forms, in this case it writing. It was fun thinking back to that history class I took and looking at it from a different angle I without a doubt thought about the major events I learned about and thought about how those could have contributed to Irelands literary world.
So ever since I took this history class I have noticed a generalization on my part, I think of Ireland's history as pure turmoil, you know, the issues with religion, nationalism, unionism, famine, dirty protests and so on. Lloyd expresses that this is usually the generalization made by most , he also states that the violence was more of a "struggle of and Irish people forming itself in sporadic but connected risings against British domination." (125) By this Lloyd implies that this was not violence in vain but one with a purpose and a drive, Ireland was under British dominance and not unlike other forming nations, needed to use violence to get a point across. Lloyd also states that "Violence is understood as an atavistic and disruptive principle" (125) but it seems that Ireland was not given the justification of being a nation under a rule that it wished not to be under.
The above instability was one of the reasons, Lloyd says, people usually give for the inadequacy of the Irish novel. The general instability and violence was not the proper breeding ground for a novel of quality. I feel that what is implied here is that, since the Irish weren't conforming to the English ways it could never have success with writing. The general explosiveness of the Ireland was not the type of environment in which a proper novel could thrive. On the contrary it seems to me that most novels are based on the current going ons of the surroundings of the writer ( at a look at post 9/11 novels i.e. Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close) and how, in a situation tainted with violence can one possibly write a proper novel? It doesn't seem that the novel was seen as a service to a nation by its critics. I feel that a novel's purpose, aside from expressing the feelings of the author) is to bind people with common thoughts and this was obviously not taken into consideration when the success of the 19th century novel was dissected.
This dissection and classification seems to me through Lloyds writing to be judged by some (hoydy-toydy ) Englishmen with wigs and what not (that's just what I see don't ask. I've always wondered what makes a "classic" a "classic" are there criteria that must be matched? Is there a rubric out there? Now, looking back we think of Wilde and JOyce to be classic but was it apparently not always this way. When did it become so? I think that this judgement can easily be made by the government. It seems to be that too often in history have books not just been frown upon but banned all together by a government. Soviet Russia was well known for banning books that disagreed with their ideals Nobel Prize winner and novelist, Boris Pasternak (Dr. Zhivago) was made to turn down his Prize by the pressure of the Soviet government for that exact reason. Even more so it is evident when a more "established" nation discredits writers from less established ones, and this seemed to be the exact case with Britain and Ireland during the 19th century.
In the end I realized that I have never thought of the importance of knowing the history of a nation and relating it to its art forms, in this case it writing. It was fun thinking back to that history class I took and looking at it from a different angle I without a doubt thought about the major events I learned about and thought about how those could have contributed to Irelands literary world.
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