LITERATURE: Lolita – Character

Nabokov gives us a Humbert that we’re never quite sure of, and Humbert himself seems to straddle the fence as to who or what he is.  Egotistical, blunt, intelligent, and focused, yes; but he seems unsure of whether to apply his own or society’s rules on his instincts and his behavior:

I have all the characteristics which, according to writers on the sex interests of children, start the responses stirring in a little girl:  clean-cut jaw, muscular hand, deep sonorous voice, broad shoulder.  Moreover, I am said to resemble some crooner or actor chap on whom Lo has a crush.  (p. 43)

(…) oh, that I were a lady writer who could have her pose naked in a naked light!  But instead I am lanky, big-boned, wooly-chested Humbert Humbert, with thick black eyebrows and a queer accent, and a cesspoolful of rotting monsters behind his slow boyish smile.  (p. 44)

He is confident and yet tremulous, unsure because he is aware that his particular lust is considered lascivious and illegal.  He draws lines between fact and fantasy, between his opinions of the two sides of his self, and, of the fact and fiction of Lolita.  He waxes poetic in the old style of romance of a poor sot in love, and yet points out that he wishes she would more often wash her hair.  He compartmentalizes features, real and unreal. Then he proceeds to cross the borders.

If he appears vulnerable even in his sureness, don’t we question him as well as ourselves? 

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BLOGGING & REALITY: Spilling One’s Guts

Waiting for word on two more opportunities in life before I get back up on my feet.  Laying low, pretending I don’t care much at all.  Nothing worse, even at my height, than to pick yourself up and too late, realize you’re still in the path of the truck.

Deciding whether to renew with Typepad for another year or let it run out in October.  Three years is too long sometimes to run forward into another.  We’ll see.

Might, if I can, get away for a week, maybe a month to that cabin.  In New Hampshire.  Alone.

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LITERATURE: Lolita – Layers of Narrative

Humbert has just met Lolita, and while we can tell that his plan was to seduce a young girl where he thought he’d be staying–all he knew was that she was twelve years old–the plans have changed due to a house fire, and instead he is led to the home of Mrs. Haze.  He is not happy with the accomodations, but his pulse quickens at the sight of Mrs. Haze’s daughter, the nubile Lolita.

I was still walking behind Mrs. Haze through the dining room when, beyond it, there came a sudden burst of greenery–"the piazza," sang out my leader, and then, without the least warning, a blue sea-wave swelled under my heart and, from a mat in a pool of sun, half-naked, kneeling, turning about on her knees, there was my Riviera love peering at me over dark glasses.  (p. 39)

Now I had seen the 1962 Stanley Kubrick (Clockwork Orange–also on my reading list) movie version of Lolita with James Mason and Sue Lyon when it first came out, but don’t remember it all that well.  In reading the original novel I see a more complex character in Humbert than mere pedophile.  This is not a man’s mid-life crisis; it is his strongest desire since he felt up his childhood love, Annabel.  In the above passage, he is comparing Lolita to Annabel, and the result is a total wave of passion.

What is the "blue sea-wave" that lifts his heart?  Blue has often been used to denote off-color or soft porn references.  While water should cleanse, I would think in this instance it does not but perhaps instead is a taking-over, as one would be helpless in an active sea. 

Why does Nabokov have Lolita kneeling?  It is possibly a subservient, sexual image that certainly would appeal to Humbert. 

We all have fantasies.  Humbert seems, however, to make his fantasies real, as well as his reality into fantasy.  Just as he boasts of his manliness, his good looks, his ease with women, and justifies his attraction to puerile feminity, he also claims shame at some points in the narrative.  There are two sides of Humbert and I tend to think that the dark glasses that Lolita is wearing are the border between the two.   An invitation–or what Humbert takes as such–by Lolita to pass through as she looks at him over the top of the rims.

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NEW MEDIA: In Advertising

Very interesting and rather clever presentation of new media in a local dealer Honda (I think) commercial. 

Mixing real video (car and people) with an animated figure (salesman) isn’t new, but the cartoon salesman complaining of being a two-dimensional figure and–here’s the kicker–flubbing his lines was a brilliant concept. Think of it: he/it escaped the delete key, the old eraser, the white-out of the past. In truth, there’s more than letting a flub through here; it’s a planned flub.

Out-takes, once hidden from the public, have enjoyed great reception from the viewing audience.  They are, besides fulfilling our desire to see the not-so-great side of the untouchable actors, provide a more human, real side to them, and may even have served as the precursor to the explosion of reality TV.  To endow an animated figure with this "real" side, particularly in an environment of reality versus his own, is very telling of the manipulation and possibility of story.

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LITERATURE: Lolita – Psychology

The reader will regret to learn that soon after my return to civilization I had another bout with insanity (…).  I owe my complete restoration to a discovery I made while being treated at that particular very expensive sanatorium.  I discovered there was an endless source of robust enjoyment in trifling with psychiatrists:  cunningly leading them on; never letting them see that you know all the tricks of the trade; inventing for them elaborate dreams, pure classics in style… (p. 34)

Humbert Humbert has secrets beside his lust for certain young girls he singles out as "nymphets."  He is manipulating the reader much in the same way he manipulates young girls–and women.  He married for appearance of stability.  He uses prostitutes for legal relief of his needs.  He plays the psychiatrists–by the way, this pretense of illness to extend the period of recuperation or merely to enjoy control of a situation is a common one with patients who indeed are clever enough and wily enough to maneuver through it to their benefit.

Nabokov has taken quite a chance with the subject matter of this novel, and it was not quite as horrifying or focused upon as it is in more recent years.  But his purpose may be to shock by presenting it in a manner that makes us see it on a more intimate level.  Making the reader accept the nature of man, of this man on one count, of every man in some manner that deviates from the norm.

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REALITY?: Morning Battles

Overcast grey clouded sky, puckered as silk pressed by an iron too hot.  Hawk swoops silently through the backyard looking for something that’s not looking for him.  And the hummingbirds on a sugar-high fighting over the feeder.  Natural instinct: territorial rights established, protected, breached and driven off. 

Natural instinct:  To war.

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LITERATURE: Lolita

Tried to keep away from the litpile, but couldn’t be left with just S/Z, Hypertext 3.0, and Ethics on the table.  So Vladmir Nabokov’s Lolita is next up.

I am trying to get through the others but I’m beginning to wonder if I’m just not smart enough to understand, for example, S/Z.  All this takes so much concentration and at the same time, I’m beginning to suspect that I’m not getting full value of the literature readings without benefit of philosophy and theory so I keep plodding along.  Obviously, the novels are easier reading–but then, they needn’t be if I can expand them into multiple levels of understanding.

So tempted though with such limited time, to just read rather than read.

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LITERATURE: S/Z – Comprehension

The tree fell.

Not a but the.  So a particular tree.  What kind?  As I write, I am thinking of a birch.  Do they have birches in Australia?  What tree would my brother call up as an image?  How big is the tree?  I didn’t say.  Did the tree fall suddenly, beaten by a brutal storm that rendered it top-heavy with rain or struck by a flash of light?  Did it fall creaking and slowly, a giant tumbled by its own age.

This is oversimplification of a complicated theory, but Barthes is not easily read alone.  Though he likely would not mind my perception.  There needs to be a classroom discussion to hear all the voices and prove the point.

I’ve not taken on a new novel as yet, nor picked up another journal from my backlog.  I need to spend the time first learning to read.  Blunder again into Joyce’s Afternoon, A Story or Shelley Jackson’s Patchwork Girl.  These too, I feel a need for companionship on the journey.  I am missing signposts and seem to race through to remain lost. 

Perhaps Barthes will help me find my way.

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LITERATURE: Glimmer Train #52 – Shades of Grace & Trip!

Deja vu all over again. (that, from Yogi Berra, I believe)

By Kevin Canty, the short story Sleeping Beauty features Andrew, a bachelor, holding a dinner party for two married couples who are all old college friends. 

There is that underlying sense of something wrong that you get in Facade‘s apartment of Grace and Trip.  Andrew is feeling the outsider as a single who has just broken up with his girlfriend, and we follow his mood as he attempts to maintain his control over the evening.  In the meantime, there appears to be something brewing among the two couples as well.  One of the women holds onto Andrew a bit too long in the kitchen while he is preparing the meal. He remains clueless.  (Facade:  Kiss, Kiss, Hug, Hug, either Trip or Grace, depending on your persona until you get tossed out on your ass.) 

This same woman faints, then under some rather awkward interaction (VERY much like when attempting to interact with Grace and Trip), it’s decided that after she goes in to lay down and recover, that she just stay put for the night since she fell asleep (we don’t really get out of the main room in Facade).  When she wakes, the secret that both couples knew but Andrew wasn’t privy to is revealed. 

The story isn’t great, but there is conflict and it’s written fairly well.   It reminds me of several movies that were along the same path of old friends getting together and finding out that nobody is really as happy as they appear.

But this never happened in Facade:  The visitor never ended up with Trip!

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LITERATURE: Ivan Denisovich – Finale

Finished this last night and have been trying to put together a post on it since. 

For me, there’s a hopefulness about human nature in this story.  Ivan (Shukhov) is living under cruel conditions in the prison, and yet he has it better than many of his fellows.  There is a truth underlying the narrative that reveals a willingness to adapt over mere survival, and that from this comes a new society that brings with it some of the conscience of normality as well as a compassion and agreement to the new terms.

He crawled to the beam.  He fished the knife out. He handed it over.  Tsezar nodded and ducked below.

That knife’s a breadwinner too.  After all, you can be put in the cells for keeping it, and only a man without a conscience would say: lend us your knife, we’re going to slice some sausage, and you can go fuck off.  (p. 145)

There is a system of trade that develops–and one I’m sure that is present in today’s prisons as well.  Everything has a value.  Everything can be traded for something else.  But for the new men, and for those who can’t seem to adjust to the harsh life, there are those who help them along, share bits of bread, a cigarette.

Life in prison has replaced life of freedom so that the barracks is home.  Hard labor is a job.  Pride remains intact by adapting.  There is even an allowance of happiness, as Ivan ends his day:

Shukhov went to sleep fully content.  He’d had many strokes of luck that day. (…) A day without a dark cloud.  Almost a happy day.  (p. 158)

But then it comes back to the counting of days–though useless as a prisoner’s sentence appears to be governed by the same inequality and injustice that brought him to the camp.

What, one wonders, will these men when finally freed, bring back to the world outside their prison.  Do we, as fish grow to the size of their aquarium, grow into our worlds?

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EDUCATION: CM1 & NCLB

First, thanks to if:book for the link to The Children’s Machine, a program now known as CM1 and formerly called One Laptop Per Child.  Though neither a parent nor academic, I’ve found myself so far behind (No Adult Left Behind?) in what’s going on in the educational field that the buzz words that filled discussions sounded like new computer peripherals and just as I try to keep up with technology, I figured it was about time I understood what all the grumbling was about.

Checking out The Children’s Machine, I can see some pros and cons myself, even from an unprofessional viewpoint.  The screen is so small and the cases appear to be plastic, although I believe that climate and third-world conditions were all taken into account in its hope to bring technology to the children (comparably K-12) in poor, remote villages across the globe at a reasonable price (to be paid by government, grants, nice people who donate).  There’s even a pull-string system for running the computer, although my first thought would be solar-battery powered as more practical, since there will be no electricity in many of the areas that are being targeted.  But it’s a noble effort (despite those people who object on the basis that these kids need Aids vaccines and food more than a computer–reminding me of the great Oprah Car Giveaway debate which was ridiculously based on trying to tell somebody else how to spend their own money) and it’s a first step.  Where will the children be able to go from there?  I don’t know.  With anything, time will tell if the program is successful in offering opportunities that they didn’t have before.  There will be problems and there will be changes.  But it’s better than doing nothing at all.

Which brings me to my second point, the NCLB.  I haven’t had the chance to do more than scan the original proposal, but at first glance, it would seem to be one made with the best of intentions to correct a long-standing problem.  My initial response is that the simple punishment/reward method is a little unbalanced.  Seeings that the schools that do not pass the test or show progress will be "punished" by withholding funds and these are the same schools that likely need the money, it’s a self-defeating proposition.  Just as with the kids who have learned to cheat to get into better colleges, some school officials have learned to fix scores so as not to jeopardize funds.  In neither case is that a solution.

I realize that teachers will automatically hate having someone looking over their shoulders and having to be rated–hey, their students hate that too–but standardized measures of some sort are there to tell a story.  Perhaps the story needs to be read in layers that will reveal more questions and therefore, solutions to the diverse conditions of the particular problem areas.  Teachers and the school environment are the primary tools for learning.  Even if kids can’t get the help at home that they should from parents and siblings, tutoring would still be a responsibility of the system and what they’re being paid to do.  Maybe more money is needed–this is what should be revealed by testing.

Obviously, I’m not up enough on all this to argue effectively.  I’m just trying to understand the problems, the proposed corrections, and what works and what doesn’t.  When you listen to Hartford teenagers say that they like the schools but don’t feel they’re getting an adequate education to prepare them for college or life ahead, then we know that something needs to be done. 

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REALITY?: From the Ridiculous…

Let me start the day off at this point and slowly progress to the sublime.

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It is the monthly battle of who has the guts to throw the old toothpaste tube away.  My husband has clearly cheated–notice the dent in the new tube.  I realize that he didn’t like the “Cinnamon Rush” but as I explained to him, that and the lemon-flavored Crest were on sale and he’d just have to suck it up.

Frugally-minded since birth, I obviously use one of those roll-em-up gizmos on tubes, then take them off and bend and squeeze and try to hold it with one hand and swipe it on the brush with the other before the toothpaste is sucked back inside.  I have been known to slit open tubes with razor blades if the engineering design does not allow for full dispersal of contents.

But the rule is:  Do not touch the new tube until the old tube has given up all its innerds.  I used the old tube this morning, and still see a couple more days out of it.  The husband will be dealt with this evening.  Oh yes, the sublime:  some thoughts on education re NCLB, the new $100 computers for kids, and the conclusion of Solzhenitsyn’s Ivan.

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EDUCATION: Rejection

Boy, and I thought I had reason to be depressed about rejection:  Pluto is no longer considered a planet.

Imagine how that must feel.

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LITERATURE & WRITING: Glimmer Train No. 52 – Story

While enjoying the readings of this and other lit journals, I’m as well looking at the potentiality of submission and naturally where my writing style and story might possibly fit.  Well, I’m learning a lot.

One thing that surprises me after being trained to cut out every word that doesn’t progress or emphasize the story needfully, is the almost "blah, blah, blah" feeling I’m getting in reading many of the published works.  And good God no–I’m not say that the stories are boring!  At least not the majority of them.  But there is an awful lot of extraneous background and dialogue that have me flipping to note the last page of a story and how much longer it goes on.  Many of these are just nice little stories; warm and fuzzy, get to know the characters a bit and smile or whatever with them, and then they end.  Finally.  And I move on to the next one.

So what am I missing in my own writing and narrative abilities that are present in these stories?  It’s beginning to look like it would be the laying down of a base that holds the reader like flypaper for a while.  I can see that my character development could use some fleshing out, but dragging out a tale is different than creating depth.  Setting doesn’t seem overdone in these stories, although backstory setting can be ("my grandmother’s green overstuffed couch," etc.). 

I think from overgrown to severely pruned I’ve destroyed a full year’s blossoms.  Somehow it doesn’t seem right to fill in the sparseness with plastic flowers…

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WRITING & REALITY?: Listening

Husband’s at work, no one to sooth me, smooth out the edges, wrap them around me with their arms.  So I turn to other men, Willie and Waylon, and soon I’m back bopping around.

Even these words, some of the saddest lyrics to a love song, have me singing:

You want me to say I love you too
There’s nothing in the world I’d rather do
You will never know how hard I tried
But I can’t change the way I feel inside

It’s nothing that you did or haven’t done
Who knows what makes somebody love someone 
I wish that’s the way that we could be
But love is up to love, and not to me

I can’t help the way that I don’t feel
Take what isn’t there and make it real
You’re where I should be going,
but my heart is at the wheel
I can’t help the way that I don’t feel

(I Can’t Help The Way I Don’t Feel About You, M. Garvin, C. Waters, T. Shapiro)

You live long enough and lyrics mean more than where you were when you heard them or who you danced with in the moonlight to this song or that.  They tell stories, and can cut like poetry or heal wounds.

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