The Benton County Seat Caper, a short historical video

Final Blog: Who Stayed On The Island

372

4/2810

Amy H will be connecting Regionalsim and Transcendentalism. Her argument will have a focus on women authors, including Fuller...and the discussion will be how the old thoughts about women's roles gave way to the new...a quest for self...Change is coming.

Heather will also have a feminist focus. With Fuller as her cornerstone she will be using other texts, such as Daisy Miller to discuss how women became independent.

Kristi will connect characters from various authors: Poe, Huntley, Hawthorne, Wilde...to show what happens to characters who stray from the path of the social norms...how these strayings always lead to unpleasant or disasterous results.

Jenel will be discussing/linking Dark Romanticism to Transcendentalism. She will be talking about circles (tease) and will discuss what happens when man looks into himself and shows his capacity for being capable. The writings she will be using, she said are at the opposite ends of the spectrum: The Birthmark and the American Scholar.

Michael has plans for a lot of linkages using Gothic and Dark Romantic texts. He will show through his textual connections how the genres progressed and broke from their predecessors. He is thinking of showing how some of the works might have turned out if they were written out of genre. He is thinking he might revise his focus.

Caitlin will be discussing British writers, their culture, what was happening in society at the time and connect it to American writers of the Regionalism era. Some of her authors are Freeman, Fuller and Hardy.

Sara will be discussing the interconnectedness of Gothic-Realist-Naturalist texts—Zola will be her touchstone author. (Sorry this is the part I started worrying about myself choking up again and stopped typing).

Thanks for 15 weeks of learning Julie!

Why Bathsheba, Why?????????????

In Zola's The Experimental Novel, Zola goes on for 54 pages to describe the many parameters and benefits of the rise of the scientific novel or writing. In his final paragraph at the bottom of page 54, he concludes:

"In short, everything is summed up in this great fact: the experimental method in letters, as in the sciences, is the way to explain the natural phenomena, both individual and social, of which metaphysics, until now, has given only irrational and supernatural explanations."

Zola is saying writers should write only of the facts and truth as they are unfurled, then writers will then be producing work in a responsible manner.

Hardy, in his Far from the Maddening Crowd novel partially adheres to some of Zola's position, in that the setting for the book is set in the fictional town of Wessex, but located in real and specific region of England. The characters in the novel are appropriate to the setting: farm land, farmers, land owners, farm laborers, local citizens of the farming community. There is lengthy description and discourse about nature, and man's role in trying to make a living from working within the natural environment. All the elements for an experiment are in place: man vs nature or man working within nature.

From Chapter 2:

"Norcombe Hill -- not far from lonely Toller-Down -- was one of the spots which suggest to a passer-by that he is in the presence of a shape approaching the indestructible as nearly as any to be found on earth. It was a featureless convexity of chalk and soil -- an ordinary specimen of those smoothly-outlined protuberances of the globe which may remain undisturbed on some great day of confusion, when far grander heights and dizzy granite precipices topple down."

"The hill was covered on its northern side by an ancient and decaying plantation of beeches, whose upper verge formed a line over the crest, fringing its arched curve against the sky, like a mane. To-night these trees sheltered the southern slope from the keenest blasts, which smote the wood and floundered through it with a sound as of grumbling, or gushed over its crowning boughs in a weakened moan. The dry leaves in the ditch simmered and boiled in the same breezes, a tongue of air occasionally ferreting out a few, and sending them spinning across the grass. A group or two of the latest in date amongst the dead multitude had remained till this very mid-winter time on the twigs which bore them and in falling rattled against the trunks with smart taps."

This is an excellent example of scribe writing about nature at its starkest and most true.

Where Hardy strays from Zola's absolutes that all written within the novel must be true and truthful, is when the narrator gets into the heads of the characters...there we know this is utter fiction it is not a transcript of events and a complete shift from scribing.

One of the pivotal moments of the novel which showcases a dramatic shift from scientific scribe to fiction novelist takes place when main character Bathsheba, throws all caution to the wind and sends a mortal invite to not-yet-suitor and neighboring farmer, Boldwood;

From Chapter 13:
""Dear me -- I had nearly forgotten the valentine I bought yesterday," she exclaimed at length.

"Valentine! who for, miss?" said Liddy. `Farmer Boldwood?"

It was the single name among all possible wrong ones that just at this moment seemed to Bathsheba more pertinent than the right.

"Well, no. It is only for little Teddy Coggan. have promised him something, and this will be a pretty surprise for him. Liddy, you may as well bring me my desk and I'll direct it at once."

Bathsheba took from her desk a gorgeously illuminated and embossed design in post-octavo, which had been bought on the previous market-day at the chief stationer's in Casterbridge. In the centre was a small oval enclosure; this was left blank, that the sender might insert tender words more appropriate to the special occasion than any generalities by a printer could possibly be.

"Here's a place for writing," said Bathsheba. `What shall I put?"

"Something of this sort, I should think," returned Liddy promptly: --

"The rose is red,
The violet blue,
Carnation's sweet,
And so are you."

"Yes, that shall be it. It just suits itself to a chubby-faced child like him," said Bathsheba. She inserted the words in a small though legible handwriting; enclosed the sheet in an envelope, and dipped her pen for the direction.

"What fun it would be to send it to the stupid old Boldwood, and how he would wonder!" said the irrepressible Liddy, lifting her eyebrows, and indulging in an awful mirth on the verge of fear as she thought of the moral and social magnitude of the man contemplated.

Bathsheba paused to regard the idea at full length. Boldwood's had begun to be a troublesome image -- a species of Daniel in her kingdom who persisted in kneeling eastwardwhen reason and common sense said that he might just as well follow suit with the rest, and afford her the official glance of admiration which cost nothing at all. She was far from being seriously concerned about his nonconformity. Still, it was faintly depressing that the most dignified and valuable man in the parish should withhold his eyes, and that a girl like Liddy should talk about it. So Liddy's idea was at first rather harassing than piquant.

"No, I won't do that. He wouldn't see any humour in it."

"He'd worry to death," said the persistent Liddy.

"Really, I don't care particularly to send it to Teddy," remarked her mistress. "He's rather a naughty child sometimes."

"Yes -- that he is."

"Let's toss as men do," said Bathsheba, idly. `Now then, head, Boldwood; tail, Teddy. No, we won't toss money on a Sunday, that would be tempting the devil indeed."

"Toss this hymn-book; there can't be no sinfulness in that, miss."

"Very well. Open, Boldwood -- shut, Teddy. No; it's more likely to fall open. Open, Teddy -- shut, Boldwood."

The book went fluttering in the air and came down shut. Bathsheba, a small yawn upon her mouth, took the pen, and with off-hand serenity directed the missive to Boldwood.

"Now light a candle, Liddy. Which seal shall we use? Here's a unicorn's head -- there's nothing in that. What's this? -- two doves -- no. It ought to be something extraordinary, ought it not, Lidd? Here's one with a motto -- I remember it is some funny one, but I can't read it. We'll try this, and if it doesn't do we'll have another."

A large red seal was duly affixed. Bathsheba looked closely at the hot wax to discover the words.

"Capital!" she exclaimed, throwing down the letter frolicsomely. "Twould upset the solemnity of a parson and clerk too."

Liddy looked at the words of the seal, and read --

"MARRY ME."

In the bolded section above, Hardy strays completely.

Second Post Eng 372 Final (almost) Proposal -

There are misnomers about pre- and post-Civil war era American life and literature. Not all Americans were happy about the war and once the war was over, bigotry did not turn off like a spigot and servitude likewise was a hard thing to shake. There was no sudden happy endings for Americans of any color, in real life or in literature-- instead this was a time of difficult beginnings. Contemporary writers of that time followed in the footprint of the war -- during pre-Civil war times, the all-pervasive topic to write about was war and its subtopics--tension, loss and ongoing repression. In the Realism-Regionalism post-Civil War era of writing, writers transitioned to articulating the many aspects of America's reconstruction which included new types of struggles by both blacks and whites -- these struggles emerging as unintended consequences of freedom. Reading closely from the work of writers of these two eras, a reader can find unexpected truths which are rich with history and laced with subtlety, ambiguity and irony.

Texts:
In My Contraband (1863) by Louisa May Alcott and Beat Beat Drums (1867) by Walt Whitman, life during the Civil War is well-described. In My Contraband, Alcott writes of being locked up in a room with a contraband former slave and his hated, dying half-brother. Beat Beat Drums poetically tells the reader war comes for everyone--no matter your station, business or beliefs, there is no immunity from war and its fallout.

Transitioning to post-war topics, "The Goophered Grapevine" and "Dave's Neckliss" (1899) by Charles Chestnutt. Chestnutt shows how white Americans still held onto their belief system that owning property and having cheap labor is the most natural arrangement of all and how whites continued to believe they were superior to blacks.

Other Sources:
Revising

Eng 372 Final Paper Draft Proposal

WORK IN PROGRESS/FEEDBACK MOST WELCOME!!

The United States Civil War forever changed America's moral, economic and social structures. These huge American shifts also produced the sharpest contrast in types of materials produced by American writers. As post-war Americans transitioned with difficulty from slave-master to free men; from wealthy plantation owners to poor white struggling property owners or renters; from slaves to free laborers, post-war writers also dramatically shifted their writing gaze from life about slavery, tension and war to freedom for all, necessary but difficult adjustments and some long-held beliefs that were hard to let go.

The New American Literature works, My Contraband by Louisa May Alcott and Beat Beat Drums by Walt Whitman typify life during the war. In My Contraband, Alcott writes of being locked up in a room with a contraband former slave and his hated, dying half-brother.
Beat Beat Drums poetically tells the reader that war takes anyone and everyone in its path--that everyone, no matter your station, your business or beliefs, is immune from the fallout of war.

In contrast are two excellent Regionalism and Realism pieces, "The Goophered Grapevine" and "Dave's Neckliss" by Charles Chestnutt. Chestnutt masterfully shows in both pieces how the post-war economic climate has radically changed for both Southerners and Northerners --with large-scale economic desolation for the most of the former and economic opportunism for the latter. But the most important post-war message Chestnutt delivers in these pieces is how the white citizenry still hold onto their belief system that owning property and having cheap labor is the most natural arrangement of all and how they are the smarter of the white and black races. This aint necessarily so.
-30-

A dandelion rosette

A dandelion rosette

I enjoyed Howell's entire editorial, imparticular, his conjecture that Daisy Miller is more a study, and ". . .not a story with plot and development."

I also appreciated his ending note as well, where he points out that artists can present what they want, convey the subject of their choosing--they are not bound by predefined parameters of what should always be...never thought of it quite that way before.

If young American women are viewed as ill-bred, low-moraled, or ". . .so queer you know. . ." while being who they are in Europe, then one can easily infer young women (or men) traveling anywhere outside their country could likewise be thought to be other than they really are. Appearances are just appearances; small minds and levels of ignorance are the same. And we could also make the point that some human experiences are simply interchangable, making them more of a study of a same-same human nature rather than a unique story.

Case in point: My eldest daughter lived for a glorious year in Stourbridge, England, as a 16-year-old Rotary Exchange student. She often mentioned one of the hardest issues for her was getting the English people in her new, temporary life to want to get to know her as, Meredith, a person separate from their idea of stereotypical American teen. She did not live for MTV as they thought she did; did not in any way agree with Bush Jr., his politics or his war...but they thought she did.

In turn, Meredith had to develop patience, learn how to make conversations and find ways to first name, then overcome her own stereotyping that she carried with her. She was sure all the English loved tea, Tony Blair, had bad teeth , were witty, charming...and were overall accepting of their wet, dank environment. She was wrong, too.

Howell also makes a fun point too, how we at home have our own inherent prejudices. He describes a hypothetical circle of American women sewing, while listening to Daisy Miller being read out loud invariably would decry that of course, Miller would describe a loud, bawdy American young lady, as opposed to a refined American young lady...isn't that just the way it always goes?

Howell concludes that "sometimes an artist would, "...sometimes justly prefer to paint a dandelion instead of a rose." Howell thinks its a wiser assertation for Miller to describe a caricature that carries some framework of understanding with it, opposed to another that has none. I think he could have closed his argument using the dandelion and the rose description, letting the reader ponder it for themselves. A wonderful observation...those contrasting images.

Yes we have indoor plumbing, we have indoor plumbing today

Note: I admit my blog this week falls very short of the assigned analysis; but the readings stirred many important memories for me and I wanted to honor my innovative farming Grandmother who taught me most of my essential life skills and how to live the best life you could under constrained conditions.

I am very, very drawn to our current regional, local color readings. My maternal great-great-grandparents and their respective families migrated to Kansas from Ireland because they were starving and could no longer make a living off the land. My great-grandparent's families in the late 1800s migrated West to Dayton, WA, from Kansas. For my maternal family, the land depicted their worth, their lifeline, their social standing, their everything.

The land had failed the family in Ireland and had been slightly better to them in Kansas. But the opportunity of their lifetime came when friends told them they could buy productive, cheap, plentiful acreage in Washington State--this land opportunity was the sole motivator for them to move their families West by covered wagon. Once West, members of Grandpa and Grandpa's families bought hundreds of acres of prime property outside of what we now call Blue Wood Ski Resort and they farmed it. When my grandparents eventually married, they accumulated more property to farm more, so they could acquire more property, so they could farm more...buying and working the land was the single-minded focus for everyone on my maternal side of the family from the 1910s into the 1980s.

My role-model Grandmother, who bore 8 children, kept a home, helped substantially on the farm early to late each day, and was a part-time LPN to boot, told me many times it was the accepted norm to have large families, in part, to have plenty of help on the farm and ensure the farming legacy would continue. In their world, which I spent 10 summers of my growing up years, was entirely geared to supporting the rigorous farming lifestyle.

When reading The Revolt of Mother, it was though I was back in my grandparent's home listening to very familiar conversations. The family conversations were always totally immersed in the happenings on the farm. My Grandmother did most of the talking; my Grandfather actually grunted or spoke in one syllable word, brief sentences. I don't recall a single conversation between my grandparents that wasn't about happenings on the farm or upcoming plans for the same.

When Grandma decided she had enough nighttime trips to the outhouse, they had an indoor bathroom installed when Grandpa was in Montana with neighboring friends, also farmers, who were also considering new-fangled tractors. Grandma had the contractor (my dad) lined out to come in and install the new-fangled indoor toilet and bath during Grandpa's two-day absence. And that is what happened.

In support of my Grandma's necessary tenacity, I would never have had a "Stop Fool!" conversation with her or with any Mother or Grandmother who took important people matters into their own hands.

Instead my conversation would go something like this:

"Mother. Another barn! Are you kidding me? Doesn't Father care if the animals are living a better life than us? Why are they so much more important than we are? I have had it. If you don't have the nerve to say something or do something, I will."
Mother: "What are you suggesting?"
"I am saying I am going to do something."

And then I would have....