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Monday, April 26, 2004

Despite the below post, there were many glaring flaws I noticed in this novel.  First of all, it seems as though after being liberated, Iola and her circle have very little economic hardship.  Robert is suddenly a successful businessman, and Harry is an activist, but what does he do to make ends meet?  This smooth transition seems a little too idealic.  I understand that Harper wants her readers to focus more on the social arguments of her characters, but glossing over everyday living detracts from the novel as a whole.  Someone mentioned in class that we don't really get to know any of these characters, and I have to agree.  Another minor detail that bothered me was when Iola states to her friends at school that she loves her Mammy just as much as her mother.  However, no mention is ever made of this Mammy again, and Iola certainly doesn't seek her out like she seeks out her true mother.  We've talked about minor inconsistencies such as this in class, and this reminds me that Harper did not in any way intend to seek a realistic presentation of slavery.  This novel was strictly driven by an over-arching purpose, to inform and persuade readers that we should strive for social equality.   

Posted by: amyfritsch413 at 08:43 | link | comments (2) |

Sunday, April 25, 2004

I believe that Iola Leroy should be taught, not because it is "good" or "bad" literature but because it offers a differing point of view about a crucial time period in American history.  I feel that a class that provides students with only "good" literature is not truly representative, for we are only exposed to what the dominant academic culture regards as worthwhile.  This can lead to revisionist history, a very dangerous thing.  And yes, we may only be reading Iola Leroy because it was written by an African American woman, but isn't it only fair that we include literature written by people from all different kinds of backgrounds?  Besides, Moby Dick had its flaws as well. 

Posted by: amyfritsch413 at 19:43 | link | comments (1) |

Tuesday, April 13, 2004

I am wondering if Pudd'nhead Wilson was popular when it was first published? What did the critics think?  I know it was written during Reconstruction though it takes place before the Civil War, of course.  Did the time it was written in affect the reception of the novel?  Just curious, because I loved Huckleberry Finn but am having a hard time reconciling the fact that these books were written by the same author.

Posted by: amyfritsch413 at 16:42 | link | comments (2) |

Monday, April 12, 2004

Though Twain's novel did feel very flawed at times, I thought that the satire on the Southern gentleman's code of behavior was hilarious.  This code of honor overrides any law of the land, religious or otherwise.  We can see this when Tom sues Luigi instead of challenging him to a duel.  Tom's uncle, a judge himself, is so humiliated that he challenges the twin himself in order to save his family's honor.  Though actual shots are fired, it is hard to take this duel seriously, and one gets the impression that no one truly intends to harm anyone else.  I thought it was strange how the twins bought in to the town's code of honor without question, as though they had been raised under a similar set of rules.  Is Twain drawing a parallel between aristocratic codes of behavior and the Southern code? If so, is this a universal satire of such codes?

Posted by: amyfritsch413 at 14:30 | link | comments (1) |

Thursday, March 18, 2004

I found our discussion in class about "new money" and "old money" to be very helpful in reading the text and understanding the clash of manners between the Laphams and Coreys.  I think it's interesting how Howells portrays Bromfield Corey as the ideal gentleman within his society.  Corey often "looks aloof" from the cares of the world, and seems to exist in a kind of artistic withdrawal, surveying (and judging) all that goes on around him.  This cultivated, artistic eye for the world shows up in his everyday speech, as he tells Mrs. Corey that Penelope is a "bit of earthenware in danger of losing the gilding that rendered her tolerable" (346).  In this scene, Corey again voices his belief that one should take comfort in the futility of effort, for all the effort in the world won't make a difference.  In true gentlemanly fashion, Corey embraces inactivity in all areas of his life.  In addition, Bromfield's manners are impeccable, as he tells his wife that he will go with her to call on Penelope, for "this is a thing that can't be done by halves."  It seems as though Howells can't resist adding that Bromfield cut his orange in the Neapolitan manner and ate it in quarters. 

Posted by: amyfritsch413 at 23:32 | link | comments |

Tuesday, March 16, 2004

So far, I am thoroughly enjoying The Rise of Silas Lapham.  It makes for a nice, relaxing read.  I like the Lapham family, and I think that Howells does an excellent job of portraying the interactions between sister and sister, husband and wife, and parent and child.  Penelope's wit and mimicry of life makes the family dynamic very unique.  On the other hand, I find the Corey's to be incredibly suffocating and superficial.  Even Mr. Corey, who appears to be somewhat accepting of different social classes at first, disappointed me when he admitted to his wife that although he may put on an air of indifference about his son's interest in a girl such as Penelope, he in fact cares more than anyone.  I admire Tom for getting out on his own somewhat, but his treatment of poor Mr. Lapham the day after his drunken episode was appalling.  I also don't understand how Penelope could possibly even consider taking on Tom as a suitor after the misunderstanding with Irene! I don't buy the family's utilitarian argument that it's better to have one suffer than three.  How could Penelope possibly be happy with Tom with Irene's misery hanging over her head?  I would have written him off immediately.      

Posted by: amyfritsch413 at 03:05 | link | comments (2) |

Thursday, March 04, 2004

I enjoyed our discussion in class today about whether or not Isabel is giving up her independence and rejecting her true self in returning to Osmond.  Though marriage is one of her ideals, I feel that she undeniably imprisons herself within this ideal by her return.  The light/dark imagery used in connection with her final confrontation with Caspar indicates that she has escaped her one last chance of freedom.  Caspar is associated with light and illumination, for his "kiss was like white lightning."  Isabel associates herself and her marriage with darkness.  In fact, Caspar's kiss is equated to a "train of images" that those wrecked and sinking see before drowning.  In this way, Caspar is Isabel's former life, which is now dead.  For "when darkness returned she was free."  Isabel remains in this darkened state as she follows her "straight path" back to Osmond (489).  This passage seems to indicate that Isabel has finally succumbed to the oppressive suffocation of her marriage and feels unable to escape.

Posted by: amyfritsch413 at 03:05 | link | comments (1) |

Wednesday, March 03, 2004

In James' novel it appears that America breeds highly idealistic people, who are somewhat naive in the their opinions.  For instance, Henrietta Stackpole, throughout most of the story, believes that America is far superior to Europe, whereas Isabel revels in her independence, at least initially.  Both women, ironically, end up marrying foreign men and becoming absorbed into the culture.  Can any generalizations be made about the place American-born but European-bred people such as Osmond and Madame Merle have in the novel? What does James seem to be saying about these expatriots?  

Posted by: amyfritsch413 at 04:41 | link | comments (1) |

Sunday, February 29, 2004

Poor Isabel! I'm so sorry that she returned to Osmond.  I am glad that she resisted the unbelievably stubborn Caspar Goodwood until the end, but I don't believe that any good will ever come of her relationship with her husband.  Though I admire Isabel's morality in not abandoning her marriage, it makes me sad to think of the misery she will be forced to endure.  I know that Osmond must have control of all of her resources, but couldn't she manage to hide some money and live apart from him?  After becoming so attached to Isabel, I am disappointed that she would sacrifice her own happiness for looming vows that may very well overwhelm her.  

Posted by: amyfritsch413 at 23:14 | link | comments |

I came across an interesting piece of criticism on Portrait of a Lady that discusses the motif of reading and textuality within the novel.  According to the author, women are defined based on written language, and often are tied to men who cannot "read" them.  We see this in the aptly named Lady "Pensil" who writes poetry that Bantling does not read, Lady Touchett's indistinguishable telegrams to her husband and son, as well as Henrietta Stackpole's career that often makes her abrasive to the men around her.  We are even told that the Countess Gemini's husband is illiterate. Isabel is figured as text herself and Osmond is truly evil in what the author calls his "refusal", not merely inability, to read her.  If anyone would like to read this criticism, here is the link:  http://vnweb.hwwilsonweb.com/hww/shared/shared_main.jhtml;jsessionid=BZPSVXRCELVLHQA3DIKSFFOADUNBIIV0?_requestid=245261

Posted by: amyfritsch413 at 23:05 | link | comments (3) |