Into The Abyss
“Authorial Intention”
I was listening to a Song
Inspired, I began to
Type the story formed in front of me
An egomaniac, workaholic
With money
To spare
He doesn’t know what he’s
Doing only got where he is by knowing the right people
What goes around comes around
He gets what he deserves I felt
Like the character in my story
I wanted more time
At the end
For him to regret, for him
To develop
But his time was short
He
Wasn’t a nice guy, but he had regrets
He didn’t
“Deserve to die”
I was trying to go over the latest version of the software, but I kept thinking about the hot piece of ass I had seen on the street last night. Her hair was the white blond only natural for girls under the age of seven and her “little black dress” was just long enough not to give me a heart attack. I couldn’t stop thinking about the asshole she had decided to intertwine her carefully French tipped hand with. He was wearing a face of utmost arrogance and was obviously narcissistic: the size of his pecks told me that he had very little time to do anything but bench press small cars. Clearly she would have benefited from an individual with, well, a Black AmEx.
Suddenly I was jarred out of my musings about whether or not her tits were fake. The “you’ve got mail” icon was flashing in my System Tray. I had received my daily update from our software testers: apparently the Playcenter wouldn’t rip a CD. In my job I did little else but insure that my programmers were on the right track and were doing their jobs effectively and efficiently. I had gone to Harvard to network, and network I had. I was a general Business Administration major, not a goddamn Computer Science major. It was not in my job description to correct the problem, nor was it necessary that I needed to know how. It was my job to know whom to blame, and this time it was the Software Engineers.
Who’s fault could this be? Who was the head Software Engineer that I had assigned to insure that the Creative Playcenter 3 software would run smoothly with Windows ME?
I pressed the little blinking red button on the intercom and shouted “Lebrouski! Get your fat ass in here pronto!”
A small, young, yet balding man entered my office, “Uhhh, yes boss?”
“What is this shit? How the hell did you manage to fuck everything up already? How?” Lebrouski was a very nervous man, and I knew it was not productive to get him upset, but he had set us back a whole fucking week!
“I I I thought I uhhhh did everything fine, Boss. I d d debugged it several t t times before I sent it off to...” He forced out.
“So you checked for Syntax errors! What about Logic errors? Did you even run the program at all? This is full of bugs! You would have been equally as useful if you had just told the programmers to write it in binary!” I had never been able to understand or memorize all those goddamn 0’s and 1’s. How the hell is somebody supposed to remember what the hell 0110 0010 means anyway?
“Sssorry Bossss, I must ha ha have missed a a bug. I will make sure it gets f f fixed.”
“Without overtime!”
“Without o o overtime…” he sadly replied. He left the office slowly, without turning his back to me. What a lazy slob, god how he annoyed me. If he wasn’t the best programmer I had ever seen, I would have fired him long ago.
I sighed and went back to my computer. I decided the only way in which to get my mind off this stressful situation was to play Command and Conquer, Tiberan Sun. I logged online and quickly found three other people to play against. I allied myself with NOD, and chose dark blue as my color. As I had been to first to join I chose the scenario: ‘Tundra’, most money possible and a redeployable MCV . I changed my name to ‘Bulldog’ and I was just about to press ‘ready’ when a fellow player, ‘Jetblack’ IMd me: “Bulldog: can I request ‘Tundra’?
To spite him, I changed the scenario to ‘Tiberium City’ and pressed start.
Forty-five minutes later it was just ‘Jetblack’ and I. I guess I had really pissed him off because he was playing like a god. I decided that the only way to win would be in an all out attack. I set up a basic military strategy; first I’d take the destroyers out around his base, near the back. When he was distracted with the chaos they would bring, I would send in several engineers, which would promptly take over his barracks, missile defense system, then, finally, his MCV. That would be the end of him. I would bring in several Stealth Tanks to back up the engineers, and a Tanya. I was in the process of constructing my fourth Stealth
Tank when I heard something outside, some kind of rumbling. I looked out the window frantically to see what it could be, but I couldn’t see a goddamn thing. As I turned back to my screen, I saw about twenty brilliantly orange Mammoth Mk2 tanks coming in from all sides. I desperately tried to get my men out, but it was too late. I subsequently tried to salvage my MCV. I redeployed it and as it gradually made it’s way to the core of my base, I gathered my infantry and vehicles in a tight circle around the exterior. I was desperately trying to fight a passageway through the foe to pull my MCV out of what was left of my base and escape to the mountains. The Mammoths would not be able to follow.
I felt the rumbling again, it was quiet at first but it was getting louder. When the windows began to shake, I glanced out at them. I saw a massive commercial plane make an extremely close pass by my building – it was really fucking close. As I turned my head back to my computer screen I saw a little popup window that read ‘atom bomb approaching’.
“Goddamn it!” I yelled as the atom bomb hit my MCV and what was left of my base and the opposition’s men turned into a big flaming ball of fire. It was a suicide mission. The Mammoths were used to distract me from the obvious evidence of the atom bomb, and to keep all my men in one place; had I realized I simply would have moved my MCV out of its path.
The constant rumbling was now loud enough to blow out my eardrums, and as I finally turned around to see what the hell had happened to the plane, I saw the same enormous plane with it’s head aimed straight toward my corner office. In my peripheral vision, I had enough time to see Lebrouski stand up in his cubicle and yell “In your face you fucking asshole! Kiss my ass Bulldog!” and suddenly I was floating. It’s strange what goes through your head in this situation. I had spent my life working at a job I detested so that I could chase down shit that I didn’t need and wasn’t important. I was not my Armani suit, I was not my 2007 beamer parked in the VIP spot, and I was not my double tall, fat free no whip latte. And then my second was over and my eyes and ears exploded out of my head and I could think no more.
Writing Journal
The implications are that people can relate to your story easier because they already have the background information. The story is already naturally more powerful, though dually more cliché. You don’t have to spend so much time focusing on the exterior details and can instead focus on developing a good piece. I read fantasy and thus the point really isn’t to attach the plot to real world events. As a reader you can determine how reliable the depictions in literature is based on how close the actual writer is/was to the actual event. Of course you’d believe everything one said if one had actually experienced the event. I’d say that I would believe a first person account over any other: I generally don’t trust 3rd person accounts nearly as much because of the fact that I have been led astray by many texts. Unfortunately I missed the writings on the walls of the Museo. I chose to write about this particular event because I was actually alive during it and I’d say that I understood it and the context surrounding it the best.
Wednesday, February 28, 2007
Sunday, February 25, 2007
Primo Levi Reading Journal
Levi’s poem was one of the first times I’ve read a poem before the actual work. I like the way in which it sets up the story, sort of puts you in a mood before you read on. I’d say the poem is trying to say “Remember the Holocaust and make sure you pass it on to insure it never happens again” The way in which I’d describe the narrator would be that he is rather naïve and that is also reflective. I think being naïve certainly adds to my sympathizing with him. The moments in the text that stand would be points that seem personal and extremely emotional, specifically the part in the beginning where Emilia died.
Thursday, February 22, 2007
Week 7 post
Judith sorted through her closet with an unusual crease in her perfectly arched eyebrows.
“My lady, what has you so concerned?” Judith did not answer immediately. She threw her soft pink silk dress down heavily and turned back to the window, breathing hard.
“This will not do, none of it will do!”
“What would you have me fetch for you? Do you dislike pink today?”
“I need something sultry, something that will make his head spin. He needs to want me so badly he’d be willing to die for me.” Margaret’s cheeks flushed, she looked back to the closet hoping to discern something new in its depths.
“My lady I believe I have just the thing,” Judith took in the fine material of her mother’s ancient gown with a sigh, remembering the delicate stitching and subtle blue brocade...
“I never did like blue; I’ve always found it rather dull.” Artemisia jumped and a long blue streak appeared over the broidery. Her face carefully set in a look of concern she turned to face his accusatory stare.
Artemisia chose her words carefully, “The virgin Mary is very often portrayed in such a regal color.”
“Yes, but the Virgin Mary is not a temptress, I don’t feel that this scene will be effective without showing how sinful women are, and how the only power they wield is of the flesh. It will not be believable that she conquered such a general as the chaste Virgin Mary, she needs to be portrayed in a more believable and powerful color.”
“I will do whatever you wish of me…”
Margaret’s delicate white hand was all that was first discernable while she held open the tent flap for Judith to enter.
“My god...” Holofernes’ eyes roamed over her body, like a dog looking at a rare piece of steak. “I see that you’re happy with your decision to entertain the idea of ‘us’, you’ve dressed up to impress me. Don’t think I don’t notice your feminine tricks.” Holofernes chucked deep in his throat, the laughter that could be heard when between the sheets when a man and a woman are alone together. It made the hairs on the back of Judith’s neck stand up.
“I thank you sir,” she felt his eyes upon her as she made her way towards the dinner table, the folds of her golden dress trailing behind her.
…
“This wine is deuuullissshhhh…. Delllllisshhhiiioous… deeeeliiissseesssccchhh…”
“I’m glad you like it Sir, I had it delivered from the North, especially for you. I really do like this idea of ‘us’ that you keep bringing up...”
“Yes… yeeeeeessss. USSSSSSS,” He made the last word into a snake’s hiss, eyes drooping and spit flying onto the table. He was obviously attempting to focus on her, and wavering back and forth, his elbow slipped out from under him and he almost fell from his large wooden chair.
“….and so this is exactly why I took up your invitation tonight, I really wanted to experience you, I have heard tell of your magnificence in battle, and I knew I had finally found a man that was suitable for my needs.”
“Yesssssssssss, suutiiiiiaable.” He had begun to list off his chair again.
“My lord, you are clearly not well, I will fetch your servants to help you to bed.”
“Noooooo, I feel fiiiine. FINE!”
“Yes my lord we will help you, don’t worry I’ll take care of you. I’ll insure that you get to bed.” She gestured to his servants. They picked him up and dragged him towards his bedchamber, Holofernes attempting to fight them off all the way.
“She doesn’t look attractive enough, how such a woman have seduced this man of such a powerful position?”
“Other artists have been criticized for the gentile and innocent look of Judith, that she wouldn’t have the strength necessary to accomplish the slaying.” Artemisia explained with pleading eyes. This painting was essential to her reputation, she needed everyone to take notice of her, and she needed their support, their understanding.
“Sigh…. Well at least make her cleavage more pronounced!”
Judith thanked the lord for Holofernes’ vociferous snoring, which was enough to cover the metallic sound of his sword unsheathing. She pulled up the sleeves of her dress past her elbows, and steeled herself for what she had to do for her family and her people. Her face finally set, she took in a deep breath. Bringing the sword above her head she spoke firmly, and her voice gave her power as it didn’t waver.
“Give me strength this day, O Lord God of Israel!”
The sound had awoken Holofernes, but it was already too late, and she felt the warm rush of the red liquid spray over her.
Artemisia stood up from the painting, the justice now dolled out, though only for a moment.
Journal questions
I chose to do what I thought would make the most believable and best piece. I hope that the way in which I chose two different options will suffice as a writing piece, because I did more than one! Writing believable dialog is challenging, and also trying to write in a way that isn’t modern, but obviously couldn’t be ancient. I hope the way in which I accomplished this isn’t comical. Obviously showing not telling is always difficult too, and is no different when writing dialog. I very much enjoy writing dialog, because it tells a lot about the character that cannot be told simply by utilizing other methods. I enjoyed the fact that it can be more abstract, and requires more thinking on the readers part to discern exactly what is true of what the character is saying and what is not. It was difficult but enjoyable. Visual works very much distract from my ability to be imaginative, because you cannot say anything that conflicts with the people shown, and the way in which the event is depicted. The maid had to be an integral part of the story, obviously, because she is depicted clearly in the painting.
I think the overall feeling of the city is very different; Naples is less touristy in my opinion, which makes it feel more real somehow. It is even more different than America and what I’m used to than Rome and feels more intense somehow. I don’t believe that Naples really changed how I wrote this story, because I have to be sitting on a computer to write at all, anyhow.
“My lady, what has you so concerned?” Judith did not answer immediately. She threw her soft pink silk dress down heavily and turned back to the window, breathing hard.
“This will not do, none of it will do!”
“What would you have me fetch for you? Do you dislike pink today?”
“I need something sultry, something that will make his head spin. He needs to want me so badly he’d be willing to die for me.” Margaret’s cheeks flushed, she looked back to the closet hoping to discern something new in its depths.
“My lady I believe I have just the thing,” Judith took in the fine material of her mother’s ancient gown with a sigh, remembering the delicate stitching and subtle blue brocade...
“I never did like blue; I’ve always found it rather dull.” Artemisia jumped and a long blue streak appeared over the broidery. Her face carefully set in a look of concern she turned to face his accusatory stare.
Artemisia chose her words carefully, “The virgin Mary is very often portrayed in such a regal color.”
“Yes, but the Virgin Mary is not a temptress, I don’t feel that this scene will be effective without showing how sinful women are, and how the only power they wield is of the flesh. It will not be believable that she conquered such a general as the chaste Virgin Mary, she needs to be portrayed in a more believable and powerful color.”
“I will do whatever you wish of me…”
Margaret’s delicate white hand was all that was first discernable while she held open the tent flap for Judith to enter.
“My god...” Holofernes’ eyes roamed over her body, like a dog looking at a rare piece of steak. “I see that you’re happy with your decision to entertain the idea of ‘us’, you’ve dressed up to impress me. Don’t think I don’t notice your feminine tricks.” Holofernes chucked deep in his throat, the laughter that could be heard when between the sheets when a man and a woman are alone together. It made the hairs on the back of Judith’s neck stand up.
“I thank you sir,” she felt his eyes upon her as she made her way towards the dinner table, the folds of her golden dress trailing behind her.
…
“This wine is deuuullissshhhh…. Delllllisshhhiiioous… deeeeliiissseesssccchhh…”
“I’m glad you like it Sir, I had it delivered from the North, especially for you. I really do like this idea of ‘us’ that you keep bringing up...”
“Yes… yeeeeeessss. USSSSSSS,” He made the last word into a snake’s hiss, eyes drooping and spit flying onto the table. He was obviously attempting to focus on her, and wavering back and forth, his elbow slipped out from under him and he almost fell from his large wooden chair.
“….and so this is exactly why I took up your invitation tonight, I really wanted to experience you, I have heard tell of your magnificence in battle, and I knew I had finally found a man that was suitable for my needs.”
“Yesssssssssss, suutiiiiiaable.” He had begun to list off his chair again.
“My lord, you are clearly not well, I will fetch your servants to help you to bed.”
“Noooooo, I feel fiiiine. FINE!”
“Yes my lord we will help you, don’t worry I’ll take care of you. I’ll insure that you get to bed.” She gestured to his servants. They picked him up and dragged him towards his bedchamber, Holofernes attempting to fight them off all the way.
“She doesn’t look attractive enough, how such a woman have seduced this man of such a powerful position?”
“Other artists have been criticized for the gentile and innocent look of Judith, that she wouldn’t have the strength necessary to accomplish the slaying.” Artemisia explained with pleading eyes. This painting was essential to her reputation, she needed everyone to take notice of her, and she needed their support, their understanding.
“Sigh…. Well at least make her cleavage more pronounced!”
Judith thanked the lord for Holofernes’ vociferous snoring, which was enough to cover the metallic sound of his sword unsheathing. She pulled up the sleeves of her dress past her elbows, and steeled herself for what she had to do for her family and her people. Her face finally set, she took in a deep breath. Bringing the sword above her head she spoke firmly, and her voice gave her power as it didn’t waver.
“Give me strength this day, O Lord God of Israel!”
The sound had awoken Holofernes, but it was already too late, and she felt the warm rush of the red liquid spray over her.
Artemisia stood up from the painting, the justice now dolled out, though only for a moment.
Journal questions
I chose to do what I thought would make the most believable and best piece. I hope that the way in which I chose two different options will suffice as a writing piece, because I did more than one! Writing believable dialog is challenging, and also trying to write in a way that isn’t modern, but obviously couldn’t be ancient. I hope the way in which I accomplished this isn’t comical. Obviously showing not telling is always difficult too, and is no different when writing dialog. I very much enjoy writing dialog, because it tells a lot about the character that cannot be told simply by utilizing other methods. I enjoyed the fact that it can be more abstract, and requires more thinking on the readers part to discern exactly what is true of what the character is saying and what is not. It was difficult but enjoyable. Visual works very much distract from my ability to be imaginative, because you cannot say anything that conflicts with the people shown, and the way in which the event is depicted. The maid had to be an integral part of the story, obviously, because she is depicted clearly in the painting.
I think the overall feeling of the city is very different; Naples is less touristy in my opinion, which makes it feel more real somehow. It is even more different than America and what I’m used to than Rome and feels more intense somehow. I don’t believe that Naples really changed how I wrote this story, because I have to be sitting on a computer to write at all, anyhow.
Wednesday, February 14, 2007
Week 7 Reading Journal Entry
What is “noble” according to Juvenal’s narrator? Cite a passage from each of the four satires by Juvenal which amused you and say why. What literary mechanisms or rhetorical devices did Juvenal use for each of these?
Juvenal describes wealth as essentially something immoral or bad, whereas Twain generally talks about how wealth affects relationships between people. Somehow, Twain appears less angry at the whole situation and Juvenal more open about his anger at the rich. The Hypocrisy can be seen in the fact that in Juvenal the rich are completely hypocritical about how they believe they are and how they actually act: they believe themselves to be so high above everyone else, yet they allow their artists to starve and they act essentially act foolish and uncivilized. In Twain, he satirizes the same things about the church: allowing their people to starve while they spend waistful amounts of money on useless things and the monks inside enjoy it. The themes of sedition and free speech in Juvenal appears to be the fact that no one has anything worthwhile to say when they do speak out, vs in Twain when people are generally crucified (generally in the non literal sense of the word) when speaking out. Both writers satirize the way in which artists and poets have lost their honor and kind of “sold out” to the patrons, and will do anything for money. According to Juvenal’s narrator, “noble” means more than your class, it is seen in every aspect of how you conduct your business and act in relation to your family and you also have to honor and celebrate god. Honestly, I have no passages that I can find that amused me, I found the entire piece rather dry and not amusing.
Juvenal describes wealth as essentially something immoral or bad, whereas Twain generally talks about how wealth affects relationships between people. Somehow, Twain appears less angry at the whole situation and Juvenal more open about his anger at the rich. The Hypocrisy can be seen in the fact that in Juvenal the rich are completely hypocritical about how they believe they are and how they actually act: they believe themselves to be so high above everyone else, yet they allow their artists to starve and they act essentially act foolish and uncivilized. In Twain, he satirizes the same things about the church: allowing their people to starve while they spend waistful amounts of money on useless things and the monks inside enjoy it. The themes of sedition and free speech in Juvenal appears to be the fact that no one has anything worthwhile to say when they do speak out, vs in Twain when people are generally crucified (generally in the non literal sense of the word) when speaking out. Both writers satirize the way in which artists and poets have lost their honor and kind of “sold out” to the patrons, and will do anything for money. According to Juvenal’s narrator, “noble” means more than your class, it is seen in every aspect of how you conduct your business and act in relation to your family and you also have to honor and celebrate god. Honestly, I have no passages that I can find that amused me, I found the entire piece rather dry and not amusing.
Sunday, February 11, 2007
Week 6 Writing Assignment
Week 6 Satire
Kristina Dahlberg
Trevor couldn’t sleep at night. Ever since he had purchased tickets for PAX, two months earlier, he couldn’t find anything that would sufficiently distract him from the excitement of this upcoming convention. He had rifled through his closet every day for weeks, all the time concerned that he had nothing to do this event justice and proclaim his nerd pride to the world. Was it the day to show off his free Halo II tee in the charcoal black, his newly acquired Word of Warcraft: Burning Crusade tee in gunmetal black or the classic, ever popular, black-as-night Legend of Zelda tee with carefully detailed Master Sword in midnight black? After careful consideration Trevor decided that it was of the utmost importance to firstly proclaim his adoration for Penny Arcade in general and thus he decided on the black-as-night oversized Twix and Weatherby attire, with perfectly coordinated Fred Meyer blue jeans.
Trevor’s concerned mother had noticed this newfound change in her 28 year old son, and with a “tisk tisk”, she insured that he ate double broccoli servings at dinner the night before PAX. When she dropped him off the next day at 6:00am in front of the Maidenbour Convention Center she gave him a kiss on the forehead and bade him beware of “Goth girls”, who’s never ceasing attraction to skinny white nerdy boys she had heard about on Operah. Trevor promised his mother he would be careful and quickly made his way toward his nerd posse waiting for him in the pre-purchased ticket line. After several hours of waiting, the nerds had become antsy. All had not checked their emails, Instant Messaged their Internet girlfriends, or played WOW in all of four hours. Those waiting in the line to purchase tickets were glaring at the shiny red badges around Trevor and his fellow friends necks.
A large football player type with a baseball cap from the other line bumped into one of Trevor’s friends and didn’t acknowledge this significant faux paux.
“Hey man, watch it,” yelled Trevor.
“Fuck off, you little nerd,” the insolent, ignorant meathead yelled back.
A hush fell over the surrounding crowd. The football player didn’t understand PAX, he had probably come because of the 30 foot screens in which he could more effectively play Madden 07’. He didn’t read Penny Arcade - he’d never understand the jokes. The meathead didn’t know what he was getting himself into, he wasn’t in high school anymore and the jocks weren’t on top of the proverbial social ladder. He was in nerd country now, and no one used ‘nerd’ with such an utter lack of respect and in such a degrading fashion at PAX. This was the once place in which nerds could put aside their feelings of shame and openly declare their unhealthy love of night elves, where they could assemble tabletop villages - complete with hand decorated warriors, and where “all your base” is just generally understood. Thus, Trevor and his fellow nerds could not let an openly offensive comment like ‘nerd’ from a jock go unchallenged.
“Your mom services more requests than HTTP” Yelled Trevor, holding back rage.
“She keeps all her ports open like Windows ME” Added in Trevor’s friend, to a cheer from the surrounding crowd, complete with clapping and cat calls.
“What the fuck did you just say to me?”
Thankfully the PAX enforcers chose that exact time to open up the front doors and Trevor and friends were swept up in the scramble to get inside. Immediately Trevor led the way to the tabletop gaming arena, intent on testing his new ‘Magic’ deck. As he descended the floors, he caught sight of a set of fishnet tights and spiky black hair going past to the upper floors. They locked eyes in a purple flash and she was gone. Blinking Trevor stumbled off of the escalator.
Trevor spent several productive hours perfecting his strategy with the new cards, and with his friends egging, decided that a caffeine run was in order. Leaving the stand with arms full of a case of Bawls and pockets packed with Bawls mints, Trevor decided to try his luck at the PC gaming arena.
Signed up for a Battlefield 1942 Tournament Trevor and friends prepared their headphones and microphones for the match. Teams and characters chosen, Trevor smiled at his friends and turning to the other team yelled,
“Well, prepare yourself for some internal fragmentation.”
After two fierce hours of bullets flying, several games had ended and Trevor’s team was still second in gross kills. Trevor spray-painted the brilliant blue color of team on the side of his base, in defiance. He led the way through the ruined surrounding buildings, sure to strife around corners to avoid early detection. Watching his teammates and looking around for the enemies, he stumbled into a side staircase that led the way up to a view of the final enemy flag that was too good to be true. As he watched several enemies re-spawned before his very eyes. Whispering into his microphone, he alerted his teammates of this perfect sniper location, and told them from which angles to approach. Suddenly brilliant purple eyes pulled him back into reality. There was the girl, in skin-tight leather with black fishnet tights. The roar of bullets from his right headphone forced his vision back onto the screen. His men were making their move, now, and they needed him to have their backs. Focus back on the task at hand, he took out three enemy men in the area, one after another, the red laser visible for less than a millisecond. His men slowly creeped in, in case of hidden reinforcements, but there were none. The ground desecrated, and the final flag taken by the blue, the game ended in victory for Trevor.
“Owned!” Yelled his teammates, as Trevor took off his headset and went in search of the purple eyes. Found at last, Trevor sat down next to the black haired girl watching the game from afar, and looking deep into the purple abyss asked, “What would you say if I told you I roll 20s?”
Journal Entries
I chose my character based on what I believed would be easiest to parody that I also knew something about. My character and the focus of my story changed a great deal as I wrote, especially as I thought about what I found to be the most important in the story. My character was essentially mainly flat, as he really didn’t change during the story, or in my idea of who he was and what he would do. He was always rather cocky for a nerd – he yelled out things to a much larger jock early on in the story, but he may be seen as round by the reader, as I suppose I released more about his character as the story progressed, so he may appear to change. I found the satire itself to be challenging. I’m not sure if my end product is a short story with a few satirical elements rather than an actual satire, but it certainly was making fun of nerds from my perspective. I found it extremely challenging to write so out of character for me, though I’ve had experiences around such huge nerds. I couldn’t remember the logistics of video games, so that was hard to describe. I didn’t refer back to Twain at all because that wasn’t the kind of satire I wanted to write.
Kristina Dahlberg
Trevor couldn’t sleep at night. Ever since he had purchased tickets for PAX, two months earlier, he couldn’t find anything that would sufficiently distract him from the excitement of this upcoming convention. He had rifled through his closet every day for weeks, all the time concerned that he had nothing to do this event justice and proclaim his nerd pride to the world. Was it the day to show off his free Halo II tee in the charcoal black, his newly acquired Word of Warcraft: Burning Crusade tee in gunmetal black or the classic, ever popular, black-as-night Legend of Zelda tee with carefully detailed Master Sword in midnight black? After careful consideration Trevor decided that it was of the utmost importance to firstly proclaim his adoration for Penny Arcade in general and thus he decided on the black-as-night oversized Twix and Weatherby attire, with perfectly coordinated Fred Meyer blue jeans.
Trevor’s concerned mother had noticed this newfound change in her 28 year old son, and with a “tisk tisk”, she insured that he ate double broccoli servings at dinner the night before PAX. When she dropped him off the next day at 6:00am in front of the Maidenbour Convention Center she gave him a kiss on the forehead and bade him beware of “Goth girls”, who’s never ceasing attraction to skinny white nerdy boys she had heard about on Operah. Trevor promised his mother he would be careful and quickly made his way toward his nerd posse waiting for him in the pre-purchased ticket line. After several hours of waiting, the nerds had become antsy. All had not checked their emails, Instant Messaged their Internet girlfriends, or played WOW in all of four hours. Those waiting in the line to purchase tickets were glaring at the shiny red badges around Trevor and his fellow friends necks.
A large football player type with a baseball cap from the other line bumped into one of Trevor’s friends and didn’t acknowledge this significant faux paux.
“Hey man, watch it,” yelled Trevor.
“Fuck off, you little nerd,” the insolent, ignorant meathead yelled back.
A hush fell over the surrounding crowd. The football player didn’t understand PAX, he had probably come because of the 30 foot screens in which he could more effectively play Madden 07’. He didn’t read Penny Arcade - he’d never understand the jokes. The meathead didn’t know what he was getting himself into, he wasn’t in high school anymore and the jocks weren’t on top of the proverbial social ladder. He was in nerd country now, and no one used ‘nerd’ with such an utter lack of respect and in such a degrading fashion at PAX. This was the once place in which nerds could put aside their feelings of shame and openly declare their unhealthy love of night elves, where they could assemble tabletop villages - complete with hand decorated warriors, and where “all your base” is just generally understood. Thus, Trevor and his fellow nerds could not let an openly offensive comment like ‘nerd’ from a jock go unchallenged.
“Your mom services more requests than HTTP” Yelled Trevor, holding back rage.
“She keeps all her ports open like Windows ME” Added in Trevor’s friend, to a cheer from the surrounding crowd, complete with clapping and cat calls.
“What the fuck did you just say to me?”
Thankfully the PAX enforcers chose that exact time to open up the front doors and Trevor and friends were swept up in the scramble to get inside. Immediately Trevor led the way to the tabletop gaming arena, intent on testing his new ‘Magic’ deck. As he descended the floors, he caught sight of a set of fishnet tights and spiky black hair going past to the upper floors. They locked eyes in a purple flash and she was gone. Blinking Trevor stumbled off of the escalator.
Trevor spent several productive hours perfecting his strategy with the new cards, and with his friends egging, decided that a caffeine run was in order. Leaving the stand with arms full of a case of Bawls and pockets packed with Bawls mints, Trevor decided to try his luck at the PC gaming arena.
Signed up for a Battlefield 1942 Tournament Trevor and friends prepared their headphones and microphones for the match. Teams and characters chosen, Trevor smiled at his friends and turning to the other team yelled,
“Well, prepare yourself for some internal fragmentation.”
After two fierce hours of bullets flying, several games had ended and Trevor’s team was still second in gross kills. Trevor spray-painted the brilliant blue color of team on the side of his base, in defiance. He led the way through the ruined surrounding buildings, sure to strife around corners to avoid early detection. Watching his teammates and looking around for the enemies, he stumbled into a side staircase that led the way up to a view of the final enemy flag that was too good to be true. As he watched several enemies re-spawned before his very eyes. Whispering into his microphone, he alerted his teammates of this perfect sniper location, and told them from which angles to approach. Suddenly brilliant purple eyes pulled him back into reality. There was the girl, in skin-tight leather with black fishnet tights. The roar of bullets from his right headphone forced his vision back onto the screen. His men were making their move, now, and they needed him to have their backs. Focus back on the task at hand, he took out three enemy men in the area, one after another, the red laser visible for less than a millisecond. His men slowly creeped in, in case of hidden reinforcements, but there were none. The ground desecrated, and the final flag taken by the blue, the game ended in victory for Trevor.
“Owned!” Yelled his teammates, as Trevor took off his headset and went in search of the purple eyes. Found at last, Trevor sat down next to the black haired girl watching the game from afar, and looking deep into the purple abyss asked, “What would you say if I told you I roll 20s?”
Journal Entries
I chose my character based on what I believed would be easiest to parody that I also knew something about. My character and the focus of my story changed a great deal as I wrote, especially as I thought about what I found to be the most important in the story. My character was essentially mainly flat, as he really didn’t change during the story, or in my idea of who he was and what he would do. He was always rather cocky for a nerd – he yelled out things to a much larger jock early on in the story, but he may be seen as round by the reader, as I suppose I released more about his character as the story progressed, so he may appear to change. I found the satire itself to be challenging. I’m not sure if my end product is a short story with a few satirical elements rather than an actual satire, but it certainly was making fun of nerds from my perspective. I found it extremely challenging to write so out of character for me, though I’ve had experiences around such huge nerds. I couldn’t remember the logistics of video games, so that was hard to describe. I didn’t refer back to Twain at all because that wasn’t the kind of satire I wanted to write.
Friday, February 9, 2007
Bernini’s Elephant Obelisk - “Pulcino della Minerva”
Kristina Dahlberg’s Small Presentation
February 9, 2007
The curiously small Obelisk in front of the Santa Minerva Dominican Church is known as the “Pulcino della Minerva”, or Minerva’s little Chick. The name ‘Minerva’ arises from the fact that the church was built on the ruins of a temple dedicated to Minerva. The obelisk was discovered in 1655 in a garden belonging to the Dominican monastery. The obelisk was discovered to be one of two obelisks that was transported from Sais and was built during 589-570 BC in Egypt, the other being on display in Urbino.
Shortly after the obelisk was discovered, Pope Alexander VII began to entertain ideas for a new display utilizing the obelisk. One idea presented was done so by Father Domenico Paglia who was also an architect. His designs had the Obelisk resting over 6 small hills, as well as a dog in each corner – the dog being a symbol of the Dominican priests. The hills recalled the 6 hills also depicted on the Chigi family crest. As Alexander VII was of the Chigi family, clearly Paglia was attempting to appeal to his inner narcissist; however, Alexander actually rejected the design, stating that he wanted the Obelisk to be a “symbol of holy knowledge”.
Thus, Bernini was approached and asked to design a solution, and he presented the Pope with several designs.
One such design contained four figures, each seated at one corner of the pedestal, and each offering one hand to hold the Obelisk up. Another design showed the Obelisk resting on an ‘irregular’ rock as Hercules gives it a ‘wrestler’s’ hold to keep it vertical. One of his final early sketches depicted Hercules with his knees semi-bent as he hoists the obelisk upward and recalls Atlantis holding up the world in his position.
The solution eventually chosen was, of course, a depiction of an elephant holding up the Obelisk on its back. This solution was inspired by a popular and well known novel at the time, and was one of the first books actually printed in Italy. The book was titled “Hypnerotomachia Poliphili” or “Poliphilo’s The Strife of Love in a Dream” and was written by Francesco Colonna. The book was written in 1499 and included the main character meeting an elephant made of stone carrying an obelisk. A wood cut was included in the novel, that depicted a Elephant that looked very similar to the elephant obelisk.
In Bernini’s original drawings, the obelisk’s weight would actually have fully rested on the legs of the animal. However, father Paglia was envious of Bernini receiving the commission a
nd convinced the Pope that “according to traditional cannons, no weight should rest vertically above an empty space, as it would not be steady nor long lasting”. (“Minerva’s Chick”) Bernini was very opposed to this modification, especially as he had already proven that he could accomplish such a task in his “Four Rivers Fountain” in Piazza Navona.The Pope decided to add the cube to Bernini’s elephant all the same, and though Bernini attempted to disguise the heavy look of the cube by adding in a saddle to the elephant’s back, it was not entirely successful and the elephant was thus nicknamed “Procino della Minerva”, or Minerva’s Piggy because of its thick and heavy look. This name eventually changed into the obelisk’s present name of “Pulcino della Minerva” likely due to the similarities between the two words in Roman dialect.
Bernini was able to take his revenge upon the Pope and Paglia by depicting the elephant’s rear end as pointing toward the Dominican Monastery, “the tail slightly shifted to the left, in the attitude of saluting Father Paglia and the other Dominican Friars in a rather obscene way!” (“Minerva’s Chick”) The Bernini’s design was carried out by a student, specifically Ercole Ferrala in 1667 and, as per the Pope’s request, the inscription on the base reads, “… a strong mind is needed to support a strong knowledge.” (“Minerva’s Chick”)
Bibliography
Heckscher, William. "Bernini's Elephant and Obelisk." The Art Bulletin 29 (1947): 155-182. 5 Feb. 2007
“Hypnerotomachia. The Strife of Love in a Dream” Robert Dallington, trans. London, 1592. Reprint. Lucy Gent, ed. Delmar, NY, 1973.
"Minerva's Chick." Virtual Roma. 5 Feb. 2007
"Obelisks in Rome." Wikipedia, The Free Encyclopedia. 9 Jan 2007, 09:25 UTC. Wikimedia Foundation, Inc. 9 Feb 2007
"Santa Maria sopra Minerva." Wikipedia, The Free Encyclopedia. 4 Feb 2007, 16:57 UTC. Wikimedia Foundation, Inc. 9 Feb 2007
Thursday, February 8, 2007
Thursday Week 6 Post
Week 6 Reading Journal
List all the institutions and figures satirized in Mark Twain’s The Innocents Abroad excerpt on travels in Rome. How is each depicted by Twain? (ie. Italian clergymen: hypocritical, having penchant for violence, miserly, exploitative of public goods and Italian people).
The number of institutions and figures satirized by Twain is incredible: essentially everyone mentioned is in satire and no one is left alone.
Italy in general is shown as unconcerned with its people, and the people are portrayed as ignorant.
The Italian clergy is satirized in that they are shown as concerned with no one but themselves, and the catholic church is shown as decadent.
The Medici are shown as Tyrannical.
Many artists of the Renaissance (Titian, Raphael) are portrayed as dishonorable. Michaelangelo’s followers are shown as blind followers who idealize him and his work.
American women are portrayed as silly and their fashions are unnecessary and ridiculous.
Americans in general are shown as ignorant and lazy.
Relics are shown as irrational and unbelievable.
Cite six moments in the text where Twain’s word choice creates humor; identify which word(s) in each of these citations provokes amusement or “surprise” in the reader. What are the devices Twain is employing to achieve this effect?
“They do not call it confiscating the Church property. That would sound too harshly yet.”
Word: confiscating
Devices: This is making fun of the way that they’re using specific wording to cover up what’s really going on and to make it sound better than it is, though all know the truth.
“They thought I wanted to take the town, likely. Little did they know me. I wouldn’t have it”
Word: I wouldn’t have it
Devices: This sentence surprises the reader because they are expecting Twain to state that he wouldn’t take the town in general, because that would be wrong or bad or immoral, but instead he wouldn’t take it because he didn’t want it.
“And so I explained and explained and explained, and they took notes of all I said, but the more I explained, the more they could not understand it, and when they desisted at last, I could not even understand it myself…”
This is making fun of the ignorance of the Italian people and how they are too thick to get a joke, and it surprises the reader by showing that they over analyzed the joke so much that it finally confused Twain.
“Under the circumstances, the woman’s conduct was pardonable, perhaps, but we suggest that such exhibitions interfere with the decorum which should be preserved during the performances, and are highly improper in the presence of the emperor.”
Word: pardonable, perhaps and highly improper
This is making fun of how gory the Coliseum was and how perhaps a woman freaking out at her sons death could be understandable, perhaps, but that is wasn’t prudent in the present company of the emperor and that interfered with the “decorum”.
“Marcus Marcellus Valerian (stage name – his real name is Smith)”
This is making fun of the true Roman names, and kind of playing with the audience. It would be ridiculous is a Roman was named Smith.
“I used to worship the mighty genius of Michelangelo – that man who was great in poetry, paining, sculpture, architecture – great in everything he undertook. But I do not want Michelangelo for breakfast-for luncheon-for dinner-for tea-for supper-for in between meals. I like a change occasionally…. I never felt so fervently thankful, so soothed, so tranquil, so filled with a blessed peace as I did yesterday when I learned that Michelangelo was dead.”
This portion of the story is making fun of the obsession with Michelangelo and how the public is so entirely focused on him and everything he does. The surprise comes when he sets up Michelangelo as a “mighty genius” then knocks him down by saying that he’s had too much of him, and later that he’s happy that Michelangelo is dead!!!
List all the institutions and figures satirized in Mark Twain’s The Innocents Abroad excerpt on travels in Rome. How is each depicted by Twain? (ie. Italian clergymen: hypocritical, having penchant for violence, miserly, exploitative of public goods and Italian people).
The number of institutions and figures satirized by Twain is incredible: essentially everyone mentioned is in satire and no one is left alone.
Italy in general is shown as unconcerned with its people, and the people are portrayed as ignorant.
The Italian clergy is satirized in that they are shown as concerned with no one but themselves, and the catholic church is shown as decadent.
The Medici are shown as Tyrannical.
Many artists of the Renaissance (Titian, Raphael) are portrayed as dishonorable. Michaelangelo’s followers are shown as blind followers who idealize him and his work.
American women are portrayed as silly and their fashions are unnecessary and ridiculous.
Americans in general are shown as ignorant and lazy.
Relics are shown as irrational and unbelievable.
Cite six moments in the text where Twain’s word choice creates humor; identify which word(s) in each of these citations provokes amusement or “surprise” in the reader. What are the devices Twain is employing to achieve this effect?
“They do not call it confiscating the Church property. That would sound too harshly yet.”
Word: confiscating
Devices: This is making fun of the way that they’re using specific wording to cover up what’s really going on and to make it sound better than it is, though all know the truth.
“They thought I wanted to take the town, likely. Little did they know me. I wouldn’t have it”
Word: I wouldn’t have it
Devices: This sentence surprises the reader because they are expecting Twain to state that he wouldn’t take the town in general, because that would be wrong or bad or immoral, but instead he wouldn’t take it because he didn’t want it.
“And so I explained and explained and explained, and they took notes of all I said, but the more I explained, the more they could not understand it, and when they desisted at last, I could not even understand it myself…”
This is making fun of the ignorance of the Italian people and how they are too thick to get a joke, and it surprises the reader by showing that they over analyzed the joke so much that it finally confused Twain.
“Under the circumstances, the woman’s conduct was pardonable, perhaps, but we suggest that such exhibitions interfere with the decorum which should be preserved during the performances, and are highly improper in the presence of the emperor.”
Word: pardonable, perhaps and highly improper
This is making fun of how gory the Coliseum was and how perhaps a woman freaking out at her sons death could be understandable, perhaps, but that is wasn’t prudent in the present company of the emperor and that interfered with the “decorum”.
“Marcus Marcellus Valerian (stage name – his real name is Smith)”
This is making fun of the true Roman names, and kind of playing with the audience. It would be ridiculous is a Roman was named Smith.
“I used to worship the mighty genius of Michelangelo – that man who was great in poetry, paining, sculpture, architecture – great in everything he undertook. But I do not want Michelangelo for breakfast-for luncheon-for dinner-for tea-for supper-for in between meals. I like a change occasionally…. I never felt so fervently thankful, so soothed, so tranquil, so filled with a blessed peace as I did yesterday when I learned that Michelangelo was dead.”
This portion of the story is making fun of the obsession with Michelangelo and how the public is so entirely focused on him and everything he does. The surprise comes when he sets up Michelangelo as a “mighty genius” then knocks him down by saying that he’s had too much of him, and later that he’s happy that Michelangelo is dead!!!
Monday, February 5, 2007
Writing Assignment Week 6
Writing Assignment Week 6: Character Development
As Canary looked down the winding road that could be seen outside her bedroom window, a single tear rolled down her cheek and onto the leather journal spread out before her on the spindle legged desk. The journal spoke no answers to the incessant questions that would not leave. It did not have the power of decisiveness within its yellowed pages. Canary required an omniscient narrator to decide her path for her, but her omniscient narrator, her night in shining armor would not be there for her this time.
Canary’s soft black padded purse with an oh so not subtle double “C” in white letters rested against the corner of her desk. Vogue, Bazaar, Gormet and Fine Cooking rested together in a pile on her 300 thread-count Italian cotton sheets atop a handcrafted solid mahogany bed frame. Canary’s matching mahogany bedside table sported a Bose Wave Radio, in Platinum White, which perfectly complemented the Martha Stewart gray blue of the wall paint, freshly retouched. Canary’s bookshelf supported text upon text of Tax auditing and financial planning books – each well worn and individually loved. These were the only items in her bedroom showing any sign of wear.
Canary laughed softly to herself every time she had thought of John’s first experience within her parent’s house, when she was still a junior in High School. She always would remember with perfect clarity the way in which his eyes darted around nervously in her bedroom – at high canopy bed and vaulted ceilings, at her vast walk in closet and extensive bathroom with its marble floors. She knew he never felt fully comfortable within her parent’s house – instead always in some way excluded. Though Canary taught him how to tie his tie in a ‘Windsor knot’, he still managed to confuse the soup and salad bowls at dinner. He still managed to earn a meaningful glance from her parents.
Everyone Canary knew was interested to learn about Johns life – about his aspirations, his ambitions. Who was this mysterious man Canary was involved with and spoke so little about? Rarely did anyone meet this man. No one could name his family, where he was from or anything about him, except that he attended the same school as Canary. Was he in the medical school with her? Was he in the honors department with her?
John had interests other than Canary and what she was used to. John’s house was a half hazard jumbling of his various interests. He had unusual animals and plants, strange artifacts from his travels to Southern America and Africa, and an inordinate amount of books and old texts. His items were in a constant state of disarray to the ignorant viewer, yet he always said that there was some method behind the disorganization. He only wore clothes that he had acquired freely – and still wore boxers that his mother had given to him five years previously.
John went to school because he yearned for personal enrichment – for developing skills that were needed for “life”. John viewed college as a time to expand ones horizons and began to learn what interested one. College was not to begin a career, it was to learn what ones career would or should be. A well paying job was secondary, not as important. He lived for life, not his job. His job paying minimum wage working at a bookstore provided him with enough income to live without parental input and thus he thought of himself as successful. He did not want to tie himself down with a specific career and job path, he wanted to explore what interested him, and to only work in a career that was self fulfilling. He disliked work and wanted to do everything in his power to make it enjoyable.
Canary’s goal in life was to acquire as much wealth as was humanly possible. She also wanted to live her life to the fullest, but what does that mean without the monetary means in which to do such things. She had intensions to become as successful as possible in order to insure that had the funds to enjoy life to the fullest. Her ideas of success included being world renowned, and during her life she was motivated to always do the best possible in order to make that happen for herself. Her parents always pushed her to be the best possible, and she was simply expected to be successful. It would be unusual and strange if she wasn’t successful – she would be the black sheep of the family.
Canary spent every minute of everyday with John. She refused to be without him. His perspective was so different and difficult to understand and comprehend that it was like an entire new world that she would never and could never fully understand. There would not be a situation in old age in which Canary and John would be sitting together at dinner with nothing to talk about. John was a breath of fresh air to her stifled, carefully constructed rigid life. Yet their needs and wants in life were different. John already told her that he would not make this decision for her. Canary had to stand on her own and make a decision.
Writing Journal
I chose the character based on some personal strife that I myself was feeling with my relationship with my boyfriend and his current choice of major – that I feel is unsatisfactory. I felt that it was challenging to focus in on the character and rather ignore the plot of the story, or at least develop it secondary. I found it difficult to create a meaningful character without dialog, and in the end decided to do nothing in my story except have the character ponder some points, and as always, found it challenging to show, not tell. I attempted to give myself and the reader something familiar, and easy to relate to as everyone has relationship issues at one time or another. I chose this because It was easier for me to write a story with a character that I could relate to, because I could see their point of view very clearly.
As Canary looked down the winding road that could be seen outside her bedroom window, a single tear rolled down her cheek and onto the leather journal spread out before her on the spindle legged desk. The journal spoke no answers to the incessant questions that would not leave. It did not have the power of decisiveness within its yellowed pages. Canary required an omniscient narrator to decide her path for her, but her omniscient narrator, her night in shining armor would not be there for her this time.
Canary’s soft black padded purse with an oh so not subtle double “C” in white letters rested against the corner of her desk. Vogue, Bazaar, Gormet and Fine Cooking rested together in a pile on her 300 thread-count Italian cotton sheets atop a handcrafted solid mahogany bed frame. Canary’s matching mahogany bedside table sported a Bose Wave Radio, in Platinum White, which perfectly complemented the Martha Stewart gray blue of the wall paint, freshly retouched. Canary’s bookshelf supported text upon text of Tax auditing and financial planning books – each well worn and individually loved. These were the only items in her bedroom showing any sign of wear.
Canary laughed softly to herself every time she had thought of John’s first experience within her parent’s house, when she was still a junior in High School. She always would remember with perfect clarity the way in which his eyes darted around nervously in her bedroom – at high canopy bed and vaulted ceilings, at her vast walk in closet and extensive bathroom with its marble floors. She knew he never felt fully comfortable within her parent’s house – instead always in some way excluded. Though Canary taught him how to tie his tie in a ‘Windsor knot’, he still managed to confuse the soup and salad bowls at dinner. He still managed to earn a meaningful glance from her parents.
Everyone Canary knew was interested to learn about Johns life – about his aspirations, his ambitions. Who was this mysterious man Canary was involved with and spoke so little about? Rarely did anyone meet this man. No one could name his family, where he was from or anything about him, except that he attended the same school as Canary. Was he in the medical school with her? Was he in the honors department with her?
John had interests other than Canary and what she was used to. John’s house was a half hazard jumbling of his various interests. He had unusual animals and plants, strange artifacts from his travels to Southern America and Africa, and an inordinate amount of books and old texts. His items were in a constant state of disarray to the ignorant viewer, yet he always said that there was some method behind the disorganization. He only wore clothes that he had acquired freely – and still wore boxers that his mother had given to him five years previously.
John went to school because he yearned for personal enrichment – for developing skills that were needed for “life”. John viewed college as a time to expand ones horizons and began to learn what interested one. College was not to begin a career, it was to learn what ones career would or should be. A well paying job was secondary, not as important. He lived for life, not his job. His job paying minimum wage working at a bookstore provided him with enough income to live without parental input and thus he thought of himself as successful. He did not want to tie himself down with a specific career and job path, he wanted to explore what interested him, and to only work in a career that was self fulfilling. He disliked work and wanted to do everything in his power to make it enjoyable.
Canary’s goal in life was to acquire as much wealth as was humanly possible. She also wanted to live her life to the fullest, but what does that mean without the monetary means in which to do such things. She had intensions to become as successful as possible in order to insure that had the funds to enjoy life to the fullest. Her ideas of success included being world renowned, and during her life she was motivated to always do the best possible in order to make that happen for herself. Her parents always pushed her to be the best possible, and she was simply expected to be successful. It would be unusual and strange if she wasn’t successful – she would be the black sheep of the family.
Canary spent every minute of everyday with John. She refused to be without him. His perspective was so different and difficult to understand and comprehend that it was like an entire new world that she would never and could never fully understand. There would not be a situation in old age in which Canary and John would be sitting together at dinner with nothing to talk about. John was a breath of fresh air to her stifled, carefully constructed rigid life. Yet their needs and wants in life were different. John already told her that he would not make this decision for her. Canary had to stand on her own and make a decision.
Writing Journal
I chose the character based on some personal strife that I myself was feeling with my relationship with my boyfriend and his current choice of major – that I feel is unsatisfactory. I felt that it was challenging to focus in on the character and rather ignore the plot of the story, or at least develop it secondary. I found it difficult to create a meaningful character without dialog, and in the end decided to do nothing in my story except have the character ponder some points, and as always, found it challenging to show, not tell. I attempted to give myself and the reader something familiar, and easy to relate to as everyone has relationship issues at one time or another. I chose this because It was easier for me to write a story with a character that I could relate to, because I could see their point of view very clearly.
Thursday, February 1, 2007
Reading Journal - Week 5 - Middlemarch
Reading Journal – Week 5
Eliot's "Middlemarch"
Dorthea
Inexperienced, insecure, passionate, idealistic, attentive
“Some discouragement, some faintness of heart at the new real future which replaces the imaginary, is not unusual, and we do not expect people to be deeply move by what is not unusual.” “the large vistas and wide fresh air which she had dreamed of finding in her husbands mind were replaced by anterooms and winding passages which seemed to lead nowither?”
Dorthea had an idealized version of what marriage was going to be, and now has to come to terms with what it actually is.
“Casaubon had often dwelt on some explanation or questionable detail of which Dorthea did not see the bearing; but such imperfect coherence seemed due to the brokenness of their intercourse, and, supported by her faith in their future, she had listened with fervid patience…”
Dorthea did not understand Casaubon’s obsessions with random details, but had faith that she simply did not understand him well enough and likely believed herself not intelligent enough to follow what he was saying
Mr Casaubon
dull, mature (in that he has a mature outlook on life, not in that he is emotionally or mentally mature), detached, intellectual, insecure
• “…no man was more incapable of flashy make-believe than Mr. Casubon: he was as genuine a character as any ruminant animal, and he had not actively assisted in creating any illusions about himself.”
• Casubon was a no-nonsense, very factual individual. A no frills, you see what you get kinda guy.
Will Ladislaw
Impatient, agreeable, idealistic, rash, passionate
“…she would have lost some of her halo if she had been without that duteous preoccupation; and yet at the next moment the husband’s sandy absorption of such nectar was too intolerable; and Will’s longing to say damaging things about him was perhaps not the less tormenting because he felt the strongest reasons for restraining it.”
Will had an idealized and contradictory version of Dorthea in his head, one that could not end happily. She could not be both – only one or the other.
In Eliot’s opinion (found in On Realism), what are some of the author’s most important responsibilities when designing characters for fiction? Do you think she “practices what she preaches” in Middlemarch? Why or why not?
The most important responsibility is to create realistic believable characters, the goal is not to do what you wish with your characters but to make it believable, and something that you could see them doing. The characters should not be idealized, but excepted for who they are – faults and all. This makes them more believable and more relatable, though the truth is more difficult to relate.
Yes I think she practices what she preaches, for the most part. For one thing, her characters are very believable and easy to relate to. I became very involved in the story very quickly and could not put it down. Clearly she is extremely successful in keeping a readers interest and creating believable characters. Her characters are all flawed in some respect. Will, though agreeable and very likeable, has an unrealistic and idealized version of Dorthea. The need for recognition, of remembrance and the realization that he cannot have her from the get go is extremely believable. He does not plot to take her from her husband – that would be impossible and ridiculous. It wasn’t some fairy tale. Dorthea, though beautiful, was really only seen in that way by Will – and Eliot specifically stated that in her town she really wasn’t considered THAT special. Obviously Mr. Casaubon had many flaws that are believable in an intelligent and focused man. However, Dorthea’s continued ignorance and innocence annoyed me, especially as she “spoke better than most women” - one would consider her especially intelligent. Her over the top innocence felt rather contrived and the story would have benefited from more character development on her behalf. Though there was a fair bit – it was difficult to believe she was that dumb, yet still so eloquent.
Eliot's "Middlemarch"
Dorthea
Inexperienced, insecure, passionate, idealistic, attentive
“Some discouragement, some faintness of heart at the new real future which replaces the imaginary, is not unusual, and we do not expect people to be deeply move by what is not unusual.” “the large vistas and wide fresh air which she had dreamed of finding in her husbands mind were replaced by anterooms and winding passages which seemed to lead nowither?”
Dorthea had an idealized version of what marriage was going to be, and now has to come to terms with what it actually is.
“Casaubon had often dwelt on some explanation or questionable detail of which Dorthea did not see the bearing; but such imperfect coherence seemed due to the brokenness of their intercourse, and, supported by her faith in their future, she had listened with fervid patience…”
Dorthea did not understand Casaubon’s obsessions with random details, but had faith that she simply did not understand him well enough and likely believed herself not intelligent enough to follow what he was saying
Mr Casaubon
dull, mature (in that he has a mature outlook on life, not in that he is emotionally or mentally mature), detached, intellectual, insecure
• “…no man was more incapable of flashy make-believe than Mr. Casubon: he was as genuine a character as any ruminant animal, and he had not actively assisted in creating any illusions about himself.”
• Casubon was a no-nonsense, very factual individual. A no frills, you see what you get kinda guy.
Will Ladislaw
Impatient, agreeable, idealistic, rash, passionate
“…she would have lost some of her halo if she had been without that duteous preoccupation; and yet at the next moment the husband’s sandy absorption of such nectar was too intolerable; and Will’s longing to say damaging things about him was perhaps not the less tormenting because he felt the strongest reasons for restraining it.”
Will had an idealized and contradictory version of Dorthea in his head, one that could not end happily. She could not be both – only one or the other.
In Eliot’s opinion (found in On Realism), what are some of the author’s most important responsibilities when designing characters for fiction? Do you think she “practices what she preaches” in Middlemarch? Why or why not?
The most important responsibility is to create realistic believable characters, the goal is not to do what you wish with your characters but to make it believable, and something that you could see them doing. The characters should not be idealized, but excepted for who they are – faults and all. This makes them more believable and more relatable, though the truth is more difficult to relate.
Yes I think she practices what she preaches, for the most part. For one thing, her characters are very believable and easy to relate to. I became very involved in the story very quickly and could not put it down. Clearly she is extremely successful in keeping a readers interest and creating believable characters. Her characters are all flawed in some respect. Will, though agreeable and very likeable, has an unrealistic and idealized version of Dorthea. The need for recognition, of remembrance and the realization that he cannot have her from the get go is extremely believable. He does not plot to take her from her husband – that would be impossible and ridiculous. It wasn’t some fairy tale. Dorthea, though beautiful, was really only seen in that way by Will – and Eliot specifically stated that in her town she really wasn’t considered THAT special. Obviously Mr. Casaubon had many flaws that are believable in an intelligent and focused man. However, Dorthea’s continued ignorance and innocence annoyed me, especially as she “spoke better than most women” - one would consider her especially intelligent. Her over the top innocence felt rather contrived and the story would have benefited from more character development on her behalf. Though there was a fair bit – it was difficult to believe she was that dumb, yet still so eloquent.
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