ENGL 4310

3/4 cup margarine
3/4 cup creamy peanut butter (I uses honey roasted PB)
3/4 cup brown sugar
3/4 cup white sugar
2 eggs
1 tsp vanilla
1 tsp baking soda
1 1/2 cups flour
1 1/2 cups rolled oats
Spread in an ungreased jelly roll pan and bake @ 350 degrees for 12 min.
Cool and spread with a thin layer of peanut butter and chocolate frosting.

Chocolate frosting topper:
1 cube margarine
2 cups powdered sugar
1 tsp vanilla
3 1/2 Tb powdered cocoa
(or use your favorite choc. store bought frosting-it just ain't as good)

I know that I brought in examples of propaganda posters for our critical lens session on “Pale Horse, Pale Rider” but I am still fascinated by them I guess. Since so many of the posters were targeted towards women, I thought it would be fun to put a few examples of posters up against quotes from the book.

On Liberty Bonds:

“Miranda began to explain that she had no money, and did not know where to find any, when the older man interrupted: “That’s no excuse, no excuse at all, and you know it, with the Huns over-running martyred Belgium.”

“Miranda tried not to listen, but se heard. These vile Huns—glorious Belleau Wood—our keyword is Sacrificed—Martyred Belgium—give till it hurts
—our noble boys Over There—Big Berthas—the death of civilization—the Boche.”

On “Good Works”:

“…she went out to join a group of young women fresh from the country club dances, the morning bridge, the charity bazaar, the Red Cross workrooms, who were wallowing in good works. They gave tea dances and raised money, and with the money they bout quantities of sweets, fruits, cigarettes, and magazines for the men in cantonment hospitals.”

“I do worse,” she said soberly; “I write pieces advising other young women to knit and roll bandages and do without sugar and help win the war.”

With so many similar posters out there advising women as to how they can help “win the war” it doesn’t surprise me that Miranda seems to resent it. So many of these posters are so demanding and are purposely made to be frightening. It would be upsetting to be badgered constantly about buying bonds and saving sugar, let alone have your patriotism and femininity attacked if you did not do so. Or, how would you like this on your front door?

I know that we weren’t applying the Family Relationships lens to “The Lame Shall Enter First” but what we talked about in class reminded me of this story more than anything. The family system in “The Lame Shall Enter First” has changed because the mother died. Sheppard the father however refuses to accept that the system has been altered and insists on acting as if nothing has happened. Sheppard blames Norton for causing problems in the family because Norton keeps crying for his mother. Sheppard has made Norton the identified patient (yeah, I pay attention) and refuses to acknowledge that the family system has changed. Not adjusting to the altered circumstances eventually leads to tragedy. Norton needs someone to fill the absent element of “mother” but Sheppard refuses to fill it, so Norton turns to Johnson. Johnson takes on “motherly” responsibilities of mentoring and teaching Norton, and Norton takes these lessons to heart. Sheppard is too blind to see what is happening with his son until it is too late. Norton has naively accepted Johnson’s advice because he needed guidance. If Sheppard had just stepped up to the plate and had been willing to change his family element because of the altered circumstances he could have been a mentor to Norton to balance out Johnson’s bad advice.

Josie’s blog Language as a Dividing Factor struck a cord with me because it brought back memories of conversations we had in high school while we were rehearsing “The Miracle Worker.” “The Miracle Worker” is of course the play based on Helen Keller’s story of how Anne Sullivan ultimately taught her how to spell and speak.

For almost five years Helen Keller was completely unable to communicate. In her memoirs she described herself as being in the “double dungeon of darkness and silence” until Anne Sullivan taught her to communicate. Sullivan originally taught Keller how to communicate by having her spell things with sign language alphabet, but Keller did not fully comprehend that the things Sullivan was spelling actually were the names of the objects until she had an epiphany at the water pump. Somehow she remembered the word for “Water” from when she was a child, and connected that word with what the object was. From then on, Keller understood and was able to learn and communicate with those around her.

In the facisnating video on this page Anne Sullivan explains how Helen Keller ultimately learned how to actually speak. I just thought it would be interesting in talking about characters that are unable to communicate to remember the most famous example of someone who overcame that inability.

I thought I would do my best to fill in a few gaps in Sara’s The Ten Commandments blog.

IV. Remember the Sabbath day, to keep it holy.
I am not 100% sure if it happened on a Sunday or not but Parker’s Mother dragging him to the revival could work for this commandment. Parker of course ran out of the meeting, and did not keep the Sabbath holy.

VII. Thou shalt not commit adultery.
Ok, this one is a stretch, but because Mr. Shiftlet married Lucynell and then abandoned her, I think it can be assumed that he will eventually technically commit adultery.

VIII. Thou shalt not steal.
Mr. Shiftlet’s stealing the car in “The Life You Save May Be Your Own…” was not mentioned, but I think that could be a valid example of this commandment.

X. Thou shalt not covet.
I think that there is a lot of this in “Good Country People.” First, I think that Hulga covets the life she once had as a scholar, not to mention, she covets the lives of other “normal” people because they do not have a handicap. “Mr. Pointer” obviously, for whatever bizarre reason, covets random tokens, such as Hulga’s leg and the glass eye he had previously stolen.


And I had a question about “Thou shalt not kill” because Sara had mentioned “The Lame Shall Enter First” as one of the stories in which a killing happened and I wondered if it was listed because Johnson effectively “killed” Norton by leading him to suicide, because Norton committed suicide, or both?

In Brittni’s blog Are you feeling it? she brings up the point that an author can sort of feel if a there story is meant to be a short story or a novel. I think this can be true in any art form. A poet chooses if their poem is going to fit into a certain form, or into an open form style. Or, just like Brittni mentioned, sometimes I also have trouble trying to decide if a story is meant to be a play or a short story. I agree with Brittni that I think it comes down to what “feels” right. If a work is pulling in one direction but the artist tries to force it in another, it often gets bogged down in itself.

We have talked about in class how our authors’ illnesses often interfered with their work. I think that this might have not only contributed to why they wrote primarily short stories but I also must wonder if they sort of became “programmed” to think of stories in a shorter context. I am not saying that O’Connor and Porter would have been unable to write a novel, but just like I mainly see the stories I concoct as plays because theatre has been ingrained in me, I wonder if because they’re lives were constantly interrupted if their brains thought of short stories instead of novels. The “feeling” was right for them to do shorter works because they just instinctively knew that their writing might be interrupted.

It is really interesting to think about how political, social, and personal situations might affect the way an author comes up with a story.

Rachel’s blog on Porter and Crane was interesting to me because I had also read Porter’s letters to and about Crane. Both of our authors know just the way to cut someone down to size with a sense of grace and wit that many people do not have. In her letter to Hart Crane on page 45 I was fascinated that Porter starts out quite benignly with “First about the lunch. I was disappointed too…” before she tells Crane that she did not go out to say hello to him because he called her a “whore and a fancy-woman.”

She writes, “You know you have the advantage of me, because I share the superstition of our time about the somewhat romantic irresponsibility of drunkenness, holding it a social offense to take seriously things said and done by a drunken person.” I just love how she will write something so matter-of-factly and underscore it with a biting comment. She later writes a little more bluntly, “I am beginning to believe that a sanitarium for the mentally defective is the proper place for you. If this is true, I should be sorry at having been angry with you. But I think it is time you grew up and stopped behaving like a very degenerate adolescent.”

When we talked about the letters in class, we were always fascinated by the way in which O’Connor and Porter get after people and how that wit often carried over into their stories. It’s a shame that people just can’t insult other people like they used to.

As I read "The Displaced Person" again, I began to wonder why the "black help" stuck around Mrs. McIntyre's farm. Both Mrs. McIntyre and Mrs. Shortley continually remind them that they are dispensable because there is a endless source of help just like them. They don't seem to heed any of these insults that are thrown at them, probably in part because they are so used to it. Thinking about this in terms of Marxism, though, I started to wonder if their adherence to the farm comes as a result of subtly operating ISA's. Could the farm represent an ISA in a similar way that a family would? The purpose of the farm is primarily production, and the help is nothing more than the means by which a product is created. The two men know that they are a small but essential part of a whole, and that their place on the farm is virtually guaranteed because the system would collapse without someone to fulfill their place. I think they know that even if they were kicked off this particular farm, they would inevitably find another just like it. It is in this way that they both adhere to the ideologies created by the farm as an ISA, and at the same time function as pillars which serve to uphold the system.

This leads me to question why, after finding out that Mrs. McIntyre intends to fire them, Mrs. Shortley becomes indignant and immediately begins packing. Unlike the black help, Mrs. Shortley is disturbed by the fact that Mrs. McIntyre sees her family as dispensable. Maybe the ISA's which govern the farm are different for "white trash help" and "black help," because apparently Mrs. McIntyre prefers the black help. This suggests that "white trash" doesn't fulfill an essential position on the farm, and they therefore don't have job security in the same way that the black help does.

Another component of Marxism that I see in this story is alienation of the laborer. When Mr. Guizac first comes to the farm, Mrs. McIntyre and Mrs. Shortly are doubtful of his capabilities. As time goes on, however, Mrs. McIntyre begins to realize his value as a laborer. Mrs. Shortley, on the other hand, maintains her pessimism because he is slowly taking over the Shortley's function on the farm, which she subconsciously knows will render them useless. Very quickly, Mrs. McIntyre begins to see the improvements on her farm, and pays less and less attention to Mr. Guizac as a foreign "displaced" person with a wife and two children; to her, he just becomes the source of an invaluable commodity. He is thus alienated up until the point when she discovers his plan to bring his cousin to live on the farm. When this happens, all illusions are wiped away and he becomes unalienated, and therefore a "displaced person" once again. Unfortunately, Mrs. McIntyre cannot reestablish him as an alienated laborer, and therefore knows that she can no longer employ him on the farm; he has destroyed the ideologies which designate him solely as a laborer because he attempted to connect with Mrs. McIntyre on a human level by trying to make her see the injustice of his cousin's circumstance.

I have so many ideas about postcolonialism which I find contradict each other at times and I can not seem to understand fully what the whole deal is. There are so, many complex arguments about postcolonialism that no matter how many times I form an opinion, there is something else out there that defeats it. With that in mind I tried to read "Flowering Judas" keeping what I know about postcolonialism in my mind, and after our discussions about postcolonialism I read the following passage from "Flowering Judas" a couple of times:

Some day this world, now seemingly so composed and eternal, to the edges of every sea shall be merely a tangle of gaping trenches, of crashing walls and broken bodies. Everything must be torn from its accustomed place where it has rotted for centuries, hurled skyward and distributed, cast down again clean as rain, without separate identity.

What I found particularly interesting was the last three words, "without separate identity." What I find so interesting about postcolonialism is while it serves an important purpose in helping us to understand not to "other" people, it also creates a problem in my mind. While I agree that literature should not be defined with the assumption that all people would agree, I can't understand why there is an insistence on being so separate in our identity. What if I said,"I am a white middle class female and insist on being treated like I am"? I guess in certain situations I would insist on being seen as what I am, but I don't want to be shoved into the same group as everyone else. On the other hand I sometimes want to be seen as something more than my identifying group or nationality of something. It seems so important but only on the surface. I mean, I guess it is easy for me to say this in my position as a "colonizer." And this may not make any sense whatsoever and I apologize for that. I'm not saying postcolonialism is wrong, in fact I completely understand why some issues are brought up in this theory.

I feel like Porter takes the above passage as an opportunity to explain how "separate identities" of people are less important than the whole of our existence as a community. Of course, I am an individual and no doubt want to be treated as such. Literature should be defined with diversity in mind, but diversity should not be defined by one group.

I know that we didn’t use the critical lens of Post-Colonialism on “Noon Wine,” but I can’t help but focus on the idea of “othering” in this story. I don’t know much about Post-Colonialism but I know that it carries the idea of creating an other. The Thompsons “othered” Mr. Helton when he came to the farm because he looked, and spoke (and because he didn’t speak) differently from the family. They disliked the way how he was not a person who spoke much, and when he did his accent was very different from everyone else that they knew. Mrs. Thompson even helped to other Mr. Helton because he didn’t eat as much as she thought that he should.
Mr. Helton further othered himself when it turned out that he was a very effective worker. He created something that the family wasn’t use to having, which was a productive, strong farm. He enjoyed working, because he was able to make the farm a success where Mr. Thompson had failed because he hated the work.

Although it is very interesting that in the end of the story Mr. Helton is no longer considered an other when another stranger and other (Mr. Hatch) comes to the farm. Only when Mr. Hatch points out that Mr. Helton should be an other does Mr. Thompson recognize that Mr. Helton is now like a member of the family. It is also interesting that if Mr. Thompson had kept Mr. Helton as an other, then Mr. Thompson wouldn’t have felt the need to protect him, causing the death of Mr. Hatch.

Most of the Marxist theory that I found in “The Displaced Person” is referring to the black help that Mrs. McIntyre has hired. I find it very interesting that in Mrs. McIntyre’s eyes the black help are higher in class than the Guizacs. I think that a lot of what Mrs. McIntyre thought came from her Judge. “The old Negro had known the Judge. ‘Judge say he long for the day when he be too poor to pay a nigger to work,’ he said. ‘Say when that day come, the world be back on its feet’” (306). Mrs. McIntyre knew that the Judge valued the black help, but I think that she missed his point. Mrs. McIntyre doesn’t understand that he meant class systems would no longer be in effect. But by keeping the black help for the simple reason of keeping the black help she is doing exactly what the Judge didn’t want.

Another interesting thing about Mrs. McIntyre is when she explains in her own way what Marxism is, “’What you colored people don’t realize,’ she said, ‘is that I’m the one around here who holds all the string together. If you don’t work, I don’t make any money and I can’t pay you. You’re all dependent on me but you each and every one act like the shoe is on the other foot’“ (308).To me, her logic just seems so contradictory. Her workers are the ones that she depends on, not them depending on her. If they don’t work, they don’t get any money and it is their fault. But if they don’t work she doesn’t get any money and she fails, because it was not her making the money in the first place, she has to rely on others. Without the proletarian working class, society would collapse and fail, with the elite being the ones who really suffer which in this case would be Mrs. McIntyre.

In David Kirby’s “What Is a Critic?” he brings up the idea that “theory needs writing to practice on, writing needs theory to call it to account” (122). He also states that many writers hate theorists and what they have to say about poems and novels. I’m not a writer and so I don’t know how most feel about theory, but I really do enjoy it. I think that by using different theories, readers can bring new life and new meaning into stories that the reader would normally not receive. For example, in “Pale Horse Pale Rider,” having the specific plan of focusing on gender in my second reading, I was able to pick up on the character Chuck. In my first reading, he was there, but didn’t really mean that much to me. But I now picked up on the fact that what he really want to do was to write about plays, not sports, even when writing about the theaters was considered a “routine female job.” One interesting thing with Chuck is that even though he wanted a “routine female job” he still put down women, but I think that he did that because he was ashamed of not being able to go to war. So in a sense, using Gender theory allows the reader to not only break apart Chuck, but the whole concept of the kind of men that didn’t go off to the war to die. If I had not read this story again with having Gender Theory in mind, I very possibly could have missed this crucial part of the story. So having theories really does allow the reader to gain perspectives of stories that they otherwise would not have seen.

Just like in Chelsea's blog I noticed, especially on the second reading of "He," that the idea of keeping up appearances is a huge factor in the stories. I counted and found that the idea of or actually saying “I won’t let the neighbors say…” came up seventeen times in “He” and the story is only nine pages long. Mrs. Whipple was the main source of those worries, and we have all agreed that what she did was wrong. But I think that Mr. Whipple has been skipped over and I think that he did his son the worst wrong.

We talked about it in class how Mrs. Whipple basically gives Mr. Whipple permission to not really care for and love their son, “’It’s natural for a mother,’ Mrs. Whipple would remind him. ‘You know yourself it’s more natural for a mother to be that way. People don’t expect so much of fathers, some way’” (49). And with this statement, Mr. Whipple doesn’t even try to love their son. In fact he doesn’t even care about Him at all. It’s only Mrs. Whipple that ever cares what the neighbors will say, and as bad as it is to only care what the neighbors think, Mr. Whipple doesn’t care about their son at all.

Mr. Whipple never shows any concern for really anyone in the family, his only concern is that they are down on their luck and will never be able to get back up. Whenever anything goes wrong, he always has some comment to the effect of “Great, just one more thing to make life miserable.” When He gets sick and needs to see the doctor all Mr. Whipple can think is, “All the way there and back he worried about where the money was to come from: it sure did look like he had about all the troubles he could carry” (57). Mrs. Whipple at least tries to think about the needs of her son, but Mr. Whipple only cares about how miserable his life is.

When rereading “The Displaced Person” like Josie I also found lots of hypocrisy, and almost all of it was done by Mrs. Shortly. A very interesting part of the story is when Mrs. Shortly is afraid that Mr. Guizac will find Mr. Shortly’s still and tell Mrs. McIntyre, which will lead to Mrs. McIntyre firing the Shortlys. Mrs. McIntyre would consider the still a second job and plus, just the fact that she would disapprove of having a still on her land would result in the firing of the Shortlys. So wouldn’t a person think that if where they were working and someone is breaking the rules, shouldn’t that someone tell the boss what is going on? I personally think that that is good ethics. Mrs. Shortly however doesn’t think so, “But with foreigners on the place, with people who were all eyes and no understanding, who had come from a place continually fighting, where the religion had not been reformed—with this kind of people, you had to be on the lookout every minute” (295-296).
Mrs. Shortly just can’t understand that Mr. Guizac is a good honest man and expects others to be, so he is more Christian and just a better person than Mrs. Shortly, even with all of her talk of the Guizac’s not having a “reformed” religion. She thinks that she can do whatever she wants because she is not trash and has been with Mrs. McIntyre for two years. I love the fact that Mrs. Shortly considers “no understanding” to be that of “do what you want, just don’t get caught by the boss. “ She puffs herself up so highly in her own mind that she just can’t see her own short comings or even realizes that she is being hypocritical. I love the fact that Mrs. Shortly considers “no understanding” to be that of “do what you want, just don’t get caught by the boss. “

I thought Sara's presentation of the family systems theory in class was absolutely fascinating and, for me, it definitely sheds a new light on "Parker's Back." Chelsea discussed in her blog the struggle for power that exists between Sarah Ruth and Parker and how "it's the main reason they stay together." I think it's interesting that neither one of them seem to be happy with their situations, but they don't even seem to consider any other options such as divorce, separation, or counseling. Sara said in class that, according to this theory, families will favor consistency. Even Sarah Ruth and Parker's initial encounter was entirely centered around power. As Chelsea pointed out, immediately after meeting Parker, Sarah Ruth slaps him in the face in order to "assert her power." They seem to have established roles in this first encounter, and apparently don't deviate from those roles even after they are married. They are favoring consistency, even though it is clearly detrimental to their marriage.

I think it was Chelsea (the other one) who suggested in class that perhaps the "real" problems arise when Parker steps out of his role by permanently placing the image of God on his back. Sarah Ruth clearly does not give him the response he was hoping for, and Chelsea said that perhaps this is because she was indignant because she feels that he is attempting to take over her role as the religious one, when his role is clearly that of the heathen. Also, along these same lines, perhaps Sarah Ruth reacted the way she did was not only because her husband was not fulfilling his role as "heathen," but also because he broke the consistency of the power struggle. He went out of his way and got the tattoo in order to try and please his wife. I saw this act as an attempt to equalize the marriage, but, in fact, it did just the opposite. The power struggle was their "thing" and when he tries to connect with her on equal grounds, she doesn't know how to respond.

I'm trying to work through the Catholic notions for the paper I'm writing and after reading Josie's blog on Parker's Back I'm intrigued with the physical pain or suffering Parker puts himself through and how it relates to the spirit. We are told about his first tattoo and that "It hurt very little, just enough to make it appear to Parker to be worth doing. This was peculiar too for before he had thought that only what did not hurt was worth doing" (p.658). I am learning how significant this suffering would be to a Catholic. That Christ was flesh and blood, physically a man and God is a truth they are constantly aware of. I was also interested in a comment I found in Chelsea Oaks blog quoting O'Connor as saying, in one of her letters: "Sarah Ruth was the heretic--the notion that you can worship in pure spirit" (1218). The point is that as a Catholic see it, you can't worship in pure spirit, it is a physical worship as well. This is evident in the sacramental Eucharist, one of the most important Christian sacraments, where they partake of the body and blood of Christ. It adds depth of meaning to the story to me although I don't pretend to completely understand it. As readers we watch O.E. go from the garden and fall of man to the Crucifixion and his own redemption as, I believe, he receives the Grace of God: ". . . all at once he felt the light pouring through him, turning his spider web soul into a perfect arabesque of colors, a garden of trees and birds and beasts" (p.673). What I am still trying to understand is the part this physical pain plays, the suffering that seems necessary in order to receive that redemption and grace besides the suffering. There is a desire for his all along to be accepted by the very one that would reject him and a desire for him to see himself as out of the ordinary. The pictures are for him to look at until the end when, he claims, the one on his back is for him wife to look at. But even this effects him while she remains blind.

"Revelation" is one of my favorite stories that we've read this semester. I think this is because Mrs. Turpin doesn't just fall off her high horse; she is shoved off of it, and very forcefully too. On re-reading the story, it seems to me that she switches places with the "ugly girl" or the "white trash" that she met in the doctor's office. Obviously, she drastically changes after her encounter with the girl, but I didn't initially see it as a switching of places. I came to this conclusion based on how the eyes and glances of the characters are repeatedly portrayed, and how those images change immediately after Mrs. Turpin is hit with the book.

Mrs. Turpin is described in the first paragraph as having "little bright black eyes" (633). In the same paragraph, the narrator describes the little white-trash boy as having "eyes idle in his head." This description, however, does not just apply to the little boy, but to all the white trash in the office. Most of their eyes seem to be described as "expressionless" (641) or "vacant" (635). This suggests to the reader that the narrator is likely not reliable because everything we are told comes from the perspective of Mrs. Turpin and so our images of the characters are tainted with how Mrs. Turpin sees the world. In other words, the narrator does not present us with an objective view of the office. Soon after Mrs. Turpin enters the office and makes some quick judgments, her eyes meet those of the well-dressed, agreeable woman's. Other than this moment and a a moment where we are told that her eyes "sparkle" (637), there is no reference to the agreeable woman's eyes or her gaze; this is because Mrs. Turpin views her as an equal, and so there is no need to make any distinction between her own eyes and this woman's; they, too, are equal.

When Mrs. Turpin notices the ugly girl watching her, she describes her eyes/gaze with such words as: "scowl", "smirk", "smolder", "unnatural light", and "peculiar". Being the daughter of the agreeable woman, this girl is clearly not white trash. However, she is ugly and has a disagreeable disposition, so her eyes are not described as "bright" or "twinkling". Mrs. Turpin is disturbed by the girl because she cannot put her finger on how to categorize her, which is probably why her eyes are described with terms that seem to only apply to her.

Immediately after the girl launches herself at Mrs. Turpin, Mrs. Turpin's vision is altered and she has a kind of out-of-body experience (it may also be significant to note that the book hits Mrs. Turpin directly over her eye). She quickly recovers and her "vision suddenly revers(es) itself" (645). When this happens, I don't just think that she is just regaining her senses; I think she switches places with the "undesirable" people in the office. When Mrs. Turpin meets the eye of her attacker, the girl's eyes seemed "much lighter than before, as if a door that had been tightly closed behind them was now open to admit light and air" (645). The girl seems to have been bettered by this experience, whereas Mrs. Turpin's gaze is henceforth depicted with terms which previously only applied to the girl: "scowl", "glowered", "wrathful". Also, there are a few instances where she seems to be gazing vacantly at the world around her, much as the white trash were described in the office. Another circumstance which leads me to believe that Mrs. Turpin has indeed switched places is when "her lower lip protruded dangerously" (651). This immediately recalls the instant in the office when the girl's "lower lip turned downwards and inside out" (640) and Mrs. Turpin thinks to herself that it is the "ugliest face" she has ever seen. Well, it seems that she has not only adopted that ugly face, but a very disagreeable disposition as well.

I watched "Becoming Jane" over the weekend (yes it's a very good movie, I'd recommend it but be aware of some historical errors) and something the father said shot me straight back to my thinking of "He." It was something like, "Nothing destroys a soul like poverty." I think Katherine Anne Porter and Flannery O'Connor had a knack for taking something so dramatic and making it seem real with just the right circumstances. I can't help but wonder while reading "He" that so many more people could be in Mrs. Whipple's place in her same financial situation. I'm not saying she is somehow morally justified in her ignorance, because after all, she is ignorant, but would getting down to the nitty-gritty truth reveals something about all of us. The Whipple's were poor and people act mighty strange in poverty. I truly loved Neena's comment,

It is obvious to the reader that she is a proud woman that is constantly concerned with how others view her, but these insights help us to better understand how she views her her son. What she says to others are often lies ("I just took off His big blanket to wash") that are nothing more than a front to make herself look or feel better herself and are not an honest representation of how she really feels about her son.

Don't we all have the potential to be proud and selfish? I mean hopefully not to the same degree as Mrs. Whipple. I can't help but be introspective when reading Porter's and O'Connor's stories, and constantly thought, "Oh my gosh, I have been proud before. And not far from Mrs. Whipple's pride."

So I know that "family dynamics" is not a "real" critical lens that we would learn in a critical theory class, but since we are using it to view these texts, I'm considering it an option for our lens/critical theory blog.

After reading "Revelation" and "Parker's Back" again with the intent to look for family dynamics, I was amazed to see how much the main characters struggle for power. In "Revelation" Mrs. Turpin controls her husband (she immediately tells him what to do when they enter the doctor's office). She also talks about how she would keep the doctor's office clean, "if she had anything to do with the running of the place" (634). Not to mention when the delivery boy comes in and she tells him about pushing the button to get the nurse (640). Perhaps that is why she is so baffled by the young girl...here is a girl that she can't order about, who doesn't respond the way she thinks they respond, but she isn't trash because she's educated...so what is she supposed to make of this young girl? She tries to put her below herself because the young girl is ugly, but other than that, Mrs. Turpin is having a hard time placing her into a category. Plus, the girl does something completely outrageous, and Mrs. Turpin has no idea what to do about it. She has no control over the situation, and that makes her incredibly uncomfortable, which also makes her think more about her situation, hence a revelation. (or something).

"Parker's Back" is also full of this power struggle. I think it's the main reason they stay together. Parker starts off trying to get the girl to acknowledge him by pretending to hurt his hand, but Sarah Ruth doesn't fall for it. Instead, she smacks him on the face, therefore asserting her power (656). Parker's says he goes back to see the Sarah Ruth the second time because "he was not to be outdone by anything that looked like her" (660). Parker is interested in Sarah Ruth because she has power over him. She holds the power and he wants it...but since he can't have it, he sticks around in hopes that he will one day get it.

Parker finally thinks he can put Sarah Ruth in her place by putting the tattoo of God on his back. He is ultimately convinced of this fact, but when he gets home and shows it to her, Sarah Ruth has asserted her power over him again by saying that he is idolatrous. Since this is certainly not the response he was expecting, "He sat there and let her beat him until she had nearly knocked him senseless" (674). He has now let go of his struggle for power because he realizes that she will always one-up him. Which, of course, could be why he is seen crying like a baby against a tree (675).

Now, of course this interpretation does not take into account any religious aspects, which are incredibly important, but as for family dynamics alone, I think this interpretation is pretty interesting, if I do say so myself.

Ok, so now I'm regretting not asking Dr. Cook exactly why Porter's text cannot be considered Postcolonial ( I guess the obvious reason is just what Dr. P explained about the difference between a situation where the colonizing is still going on vs not and in Porter's experience, as well as in her text, it is still going on). I'm mostly interested if that would be her explanation, and interested in an idea that has occurred to me in "Flowering Judas." I started to think about the change, or potential for it, in Porter's character Laura. Again, the most poignant statement to me about Postcolonialism, or I guess Colonialism, in this text is the children Laura is teaching English to who say and write "we lov ar ticher" (p.95) with crayons, and in the same paragraph she mentions the young captain, one of Zapata's soldiers, who said he loved her. She doesn't give him the time of day and thinks: "I must send him a box of colored crayons." The implications are fascinating. She feels no respect for or hasn't any love to reciprocate to this man and perhaps not for the children either. In the story it seems very much like she is just going through the motions without much passion. It implies that she does not have a love for the people she serves, but also that she has no love for the revolutionaries specifically, which is almost a contradiction as she is one herself.
The change I'm wondering about is her reaction to Eugenio's death. She had given him narcotics and encouragement which is, in her eyes (just what we were saying in class), helping him. But when he overdoses, she does not call it a suicide, but "murder," recognizing herself as "murderer." By the end, her feelings may not have turned to "love," but the guilt and recognition or awareness of the part she plays, in colonization - one could argue, is evidence of a turnabout for her. I'm just wondering If that moment of awareness doesn't open itself up to Postcolonial thought and discussion?
I also couldn't help but see a new layer of meaning to the title "flowering Judas." As we witness Mexico's multi Colonization going on, it seems to have "flowered" into more and more presence of that "Judas" character experience, one going into save and proving to be a killing force instead.

I think I missed a lot of things the first time I read "The Displaced Person." Although I did note that there was some significance attached to the peacocks, I didn't examine what that might have been because my eye was caught by other aspects of the story. I just re-read through the blogs about "The Displaced Person," and found that the discussion about peacocks was very interesting, particularly in Jillian's blog. In her blog, she notes that it is only the Judge and the priest who appreciate the peacock's beauty. Both Mrs. Shortley and Mrs. McIntyre seem to be completely indifferent to the beautiful birds. This is evident when Mrs. Shortely is standing under the tree (that has the peacock in it) and with her "unseeing eyes directly in front of the peacock's tail....She might have been looking at a map of the universe but she didn't notice it" (290-291). I only bring this up because, later on, Mrs. Shortley expresses the opinion that foreigners are "all eyes and no understanding" (295). We can say the same thing about her because, for one reason or another, she cannot understand why anyone would be fascinated by the peacocks. Maybe she doesn't "understand" beauty, and so wouldn't the priest would be justified in saying that Mrs. Shortley is "all eyes and no understanding?"

Another thing I completely failed to notice was when the Guizac family arrives on the farm, Mrs. Shortely describes each of them as they step out of the car,

"out jumped two children, a boy and a girl, and then, stepping more slowly, a woman in brown, shaped like a peanut. Then the front door opened and out stepped the man, the Displaced Person." (286)

Later on, she refers to the family collectively as "the displaced people." Lower case letters. Why is it that the man is THE Displaced Person, which seems to replace his name? I would assume that it may be because he is the bread winner of the family, and the fact that his family is forced out of thier native country reflects him much more than it reflects the mother and children.

So I take back part of what I said in My Response to Sara's Ten Commandments Post. After just reading "That Tree" and "Flowering Judas" I realize that adultery is very prevalent in Porter's stories. It is not, as I had presupposed, only there in "Maria Concepcion." Obviously, adultery is hinted at in "Rope" but I am unsure as a reader if it actually happened or was only a suspicion. However, in "That Tree" the Journalist (who doesn't have a name, which I find incredibly interesting. Why is that, do you think? Why does he not have a name while Miriam does?) sleeps with another woman and has a baby with her before Miriam ever comes to Mexico. Is this something that Porter saw a lot of in Mexico because in both "Maria Concepcion" and "That Tree" the men not only sleep with other women, but they also have children with them. Whereas in other stories, the men only sleep with the women. Of course, I take that back because in "Flowering Judas" Braggioni has numerous affairs and nothing is ever said about children, unless I missed it.

Anyway, I wonder why adultery is apart of many contentious marriages in Porter's stories. Is it just that adultery has been known as the reason for divorce for centuries (before the whole "no-fault" divorce was ever instituted, that is)? However, in those cases it was usually the man divorcing the woman for infidelity, while the woman had to have some other "wrong" done to her such as brutality, and she had to prove it, while the man just had to say it. Perhaps this is why these women stay in these marriages with the men who have affairs? I think that might be the case because the only woman who leaves the marriage is Miriam in "That Tree" and she doesn't know about the other woman at all.

I know that the adultery is not the sole reason for the unhappy marriages in these stories, but adultery does play a part in them. It is true that Miriam and the Journalist's marriage lacks communication and understanding, while the relationship in "Rope" lacks trust. In "That Tree" the affair is never discussed because he does not think he can tell her about it (hence lack of communication), and the woman in "Rope" is even more distrustful of her husband because she thinks he has an affair. Then there are the women in "Maria Concepcion" and "Flowering Judas" who take their husbands back after the sordid affairs. Maria takes her husband along with his illegitimate child back after the affair, and Braggioni's wife apologizes for being upset that he has many affairs. What is all of that about? Perhaps a little research into the Mexican culture would be interesting. I do remember that in "Maria Concepcion" the women in the community are mad at Maria for being so upset about her husband's affair. They basically say that it happens to everyone, and she should just get over it.

I keep thinking that I have decided on my topic concerning marriage, and then I change my mind. Now I am thinking that I will tie in Adultery and how it goes hand-in-hand with other problems in the marriages of Porter's stories. I don't know if Porter ever had affairs or was cheated on, but she seems to write about it a lot, and I'm not sure why. We shall see, we shall see.

As I read through Noon Wine, I was once again struck by the alienation of the characters in this story. Each of the characters seems to become alienated in some way. At first Mr. Helton is alienated as a worker and foreigner. Mr. Thompson establishes his power as controller of the commodity, it is his farm and he controls the means of productions, while Mr. Helton does the labor and work. Mr. Helton becomes exploited as his labor increases the gain of Mr. Thompson, and the reward for Mr. Helton is small. The years pass and Mr. Helton keeps increasing the production on the farm, Mr. Thompson keeps benefiting. The family calls Mr. Helton a part of the family, in fact the boys cannot recall a time that he was not on the farm, but he is not treated equally.

As the alienation of labor keeps growing, so does the alienation between Mr. Helton and Mr. Thompson. Each character represents a different type of masculine. Mr. Helton is quite, gangly, eats very little, and does his work before anything else. Mr. Thompson spends days at the local hotel drinking, he is lazy, and doesn't appreciate the farm. (This is a cardinal sin for Porter.) The alienation occurs as each of the men, although I found it more for Mr. Thompson rather than Mr. Helton, place judgments and requirements on the other. Mrs. Thompson is not exempt from this either, in beginning she compares her husband quite frequently to Mr. Helton. She can be found projecting her ideas of the male body onto each of the men, and attempts to categorize Mr. Helton by the men's bodies she has known in the past.

With the entering of Mr. Hatch, comes the entrance of a new male body. Mr. Thompson is extremely weary of this new body and this new form of masculine. The change of power and masculine occur with the violence toward the bodies in the fight. Mr. Thompson establishes the power of his masculine when he kills Mr. Hatch, but he also creates a kind of justification on the type of masculine of Mr. Helton, however, Mr. Thompson also exploits his own masculine. In the end, Mr. Thompson, and his masculinity, become completely alienated and exploited as he commits suicide in the end.

Josie's comments in Living with Contradictions were interesting. I can't help wondering if Mrs. Whipple did really love her son, but was still "othering" him, that she could not accept him as the same or of the same worth as her "normal" children. He seemed to me to be made so much the animal who could be loved and tended, but who couldn't feel like humans do. The language Porter uses supports this too and there is so much animal imagery, he climbs up the tree like a monkey etc.: "He ate squatting in the corner, smacking and mumbling. Rolls of fat covered Him like an overcoat." Besides the fact that he is eating like an animal, not at the table with utensils, he has an "overcoat." The implication almost suggests a coat of skins, an animal hide. This would be interesting to look at in terms of the lack of ability to communicate, I can't remember who is doing their paper with this focus, but because we are all aware that he is no different, he can feel, it is interesting that what He does lack is the ability to express those feelings in language. There is some body language going on in the story on his part, but it is limited. He runs from the sow. When Mrs. Whipple boxes Him on the ears: "He blinked and blinked and rubbed His head, and his face hurt Mrs. Whipple's feelings." He doesn't cry and it is interesting that it becomes an issue of her feeling. She honestly believes that "He don't get hurt." At least until the end when she does see Him cry. Then she glimpses the truth.

OK, so what I know of Marxist theory is that the labor required to produce a commodity is the only true measure of that commodities value, a prophet made above that value is surplus in the pockets of the capitalist. With increase competition within the capitalist market, prices, and therefore wages, drop. Marx's prediction was that wages would decline to starvation levels and capitalists would be driven out of business. A divide would open and increase between the classes until the proletariat (poor working class) would then revolt and seize control of the state economy.
I'm sure there is much more to it than that, please enlighten me as I have not studied the subject (Didn't Marx have an idealistic communist vision of a Utopian society?).
I can see that O'Connor's The Displaced Person can be viewed through this lens, even if I don't fully understand Marxism. I gap exists between these classes in her story, though I'm not sure how large. Mrs. McIntyre owns property and a home where her employees own nothing, but the Judge has left her nothing else and Mrs. McIntyre reminds us:

I've been running this place for thirty years. . .and always just barely making
it. People think you're made of money. I have the taxes to
pay. I have the insurance to keep up. I have the repair bills.
I have the feed bills.

And yet she keeps buying tractor equipment. On the other hand, Sulk is stealing her chickens, he may be on the brink of starvation. At any rate, Mr. Guizac, who arrives, destitute, poses the immediate threat. First to the Shortley's (interestingly Mrs. Shortley seems to be a bit of a manager) always telling the black men, those she invisions are beneath her, what to do. Next he poses a threat to Mrs. McIntyre. I don't mean an actual threat, though he may be, but he seems to be more of one perceived as a threat by the others. Could he take over the farm? I'd see him leaving before that was possible, but it is interesting that when they get rid of him, the farm is abandoned or fails. That leaves room for the argument that he did take over and would have further. So then, did the proletariat destroy the capitalist or the capitalist destroy the proletariat?
I also wonder about a post colonialist perspective being applied to this story as it would surely work. I see the Post colonial attitude appear in Mrs. Shortley when she says things like: "Over here it's more advanced than where they come from" (p.290). She also believes their religion is old, not reformed and primitive. However, she does not speak with imperialistic thought, she doesn't want to go to Europe and take over. Her thought is one of protection (what exactly woud that be called?). Remember she was like the "Giant wife of the Countryside, come out at some sign of danger to see what the trouble was" (p.285).

In Chelsea's blog and in class, the subject of keeping up appearances (to borrow from Chelsea) came up. Although His mother is undoubtedly trying to put on a good face for the neighbors, I definitely think that there is more to it. On the first read, it was obvious that the mother was worried about what everyone thought about her family and, consequently, nearly all her painstaking efforts to show how much she loved her disabled son were nothing more than an act. The second time I read this, though, I got a slightly different impression. Although she was, to a degree, attempting to please the neighbors, I think she was mostly just trying to convince herself that she had feelings for her son that she obviously did not really have. I'm sure that she desperately wanted to have genuine motherly feelings for Him, but she simply didn't. How hard would it be for a mother to have a child she loved less than the others? To compensate for her lack of motherly affection for Him, she tried to convince herself that "she loved her second son[...]better than she loved the other two children put together" (49). I don't know of any mother who would admit that she loved one child over the other, let alone announce it to anyone who would listen. She did love the other two, and perhaps even felt guilty about loving them but not Him, and maybe that is why she made such a shocking statement.

Sara's Lame-O in Porter's Stories


Okay, so I am sorry that I seem to be only responding to Sara’s past blogs…the reason is that I want these blogs to have something to do with what I am planning on writing my paper on (and the symposium as well), and since most of the blogs on this topic are written by myself, I have had a hard time finding blogs that others have written about even the stories that I will be focusing on. Since Sara did these lame-o ones covering most of the stories we have read, I found that I wanted to reply to her idea of the stories.

So, Sara stated that both the wife and the husband consider themselves to be morally superior individuals, and therefore they are slightly more lame-o than okay. I think that I agree with this assessment. Though I am not so sure that I would consider them thinking they are morally superior. I know that the husband and the wife are being incredibly defensive as a person is wont to do when they are being attacked. The fact that the fight so easily escalates makes me believe that this is not the first (nor the last) fight of this kind. As I’ve said before, I really don’t think that the rope is the reason for the fight…it’s the fact that he thought of himself instead of thinking of her, but when she gets what she wants (her coffee…which shows that he really DOES love her because he walked all the way to get it…again), she is okay with him having something for himself (i.e.: the rope).

Does being defensive mean a person believes he/she is morally superior? I don’t know. That seems to be the take Sara took, which is fine. Though she didn’t really give any support to her claim, so I don’t know what her reasoning was (though I’m sure it was brilliant because it’s Sara). I am thinking that neither of them really thought they were morally superior, just maybe that they were annoyed at each other, or something. Maybe I should re-read the story with the sole purpose of finding how they could be morally superior. I suppose that the wife could think she is because the husband had (possibly) had an affair. She has never cheated on him (or at least that’s what her accusation implies because we generally avoid accusing someone of doing something we ourselves have done…though not always), so she could think she is “better” than he is because of it. However, I don’t think that is what she is getting at. I think the main issue for this couple is not that they are morally superior, but are, in fact, not able to trust each other. The wife is obviously jealous, whether anything ever really happened between her husband and another woman. If she weren’t unsure of their relationship, she wouldn’t have become so angry about the fact that he forgot the coffee. Of course, that is probably a lie. As someone in class stated once, it could just be because she hasn’t had her caffeine fix and is apt to freak out because her body needs it. Then again, I don’t see why Porter would write a story that shows a woman being mad at her husband only because she can’t get her caffeine fix. I really think it has more to do with the trust/love issue.

Sara’s >“The Lame-o in Porter’s Stories”
Sara says that Maria is the morally superior person in the story, and I agree with that completely. However, she doesn’t really think she is “lame-o” because she doesn’t “kill the Maria Rosa because she holds herself higher or to rid the world of the sin Maria and Juan had committed; she does it out of grief and jealousy.” While I agree that grief and jealousy are part of the reason that Maria commits murder, I think it has a lot more to do with the institution of marriage itself. The fact that they were married in the church is a big thing for this couple. It seems as if their marriage should be on a higher playing field because they were married in the church instead of behind it. So I think that Maria really does hold herself to a higher standard, at least when it comes to her marriage. Perhaps she doesn’t believe that her marriage should be affected by things like adultery, etc. because her marriage is supposed to be a sacred thing. So maybe she’s grieving over the loss of sanctity of her marriage, but I really think that she is a “lame-o” because she wants to do what is morally right, but she then murders someone. However, she does murder Maria Rosa in order to “save her marriage.” Everything was fine before Maria Rosa came along, and perhaps she was hoping that it would all be fine again once Maria Rosa came along.

As a side note, Juan also talks of how his marriage is different than other marriages. He mentions that he cannot hit his wife and put her in his place because he was married in the church. He likes the fact that he can tell Maria Rosa what to do and hit her and all of that because he doesn’t worry that God will strike him dead for doing so. He isn’t really a lame-o though because he doesn’t hold himself morally superior, he simply recognizes that his marriage is supposed to be on a higher level.

I never really liked the “overall” Marxist theory that seems to be what everyone knows about and has to do with money, classes, etc. I have always gravitated to parts of the Marxist theory that have little to do with money itself such as Althusser’s ISAs. Be that as it may, I know there are plenty of things dealing with money in these stories that we just read (“Noon Wine” and “Displace Person”). Both of these stories have people come to a failing farm and help save it. Both times the women owners of the farm start to have a “problem” with their financial saviors. During this second bout of reading, I tried to focus on why this turnabout takes place in each story. The reasons that I saw for “Displace Person” is a difference in Ideological State Apparatuses (ISA). Louis Althusser describes ISAs as a private and social organization, institution, or group that perpetuates ideologies (the way we think about ourselves). In “Displaced Person” (though granted it might be a bit of a stretch) Mrs. McIntyre holds to the ISA of racism. Society at that time had many “rules” to how the races were divided. When Mr. Guizac tries to get one of the black workers to pay for his niece to come over and then they can get married, Mrs. McIntyre flips. She calls Mr. Guizac a monster for even suggesting that a white girl marry a black man. Mr. Guizac’s difference in belief when it comes to races is enough to make Mrs. McIntyre be so upset that she finds him utterly irritating. She cannot understand the difference in ISA between herself and Mr. Guizac. She says, “I cannot understand how a man who calls himself a Christian could bring a poor innocent girl over here and marry her to something like that. I cannot understand it. I cannot!” (314). In response to this, Mr. Guizac says, “She no care black…she in camp three year” (314). Each person has a different thing that they value: She values keep the races “pure” and he values life away from Poland (as anyone probably would). Mrs. McIntyre does not question her beliefs in this particular ISA, but she is deeply shaken after this run-in with Mr. Guizac. “Her heart was beating as if some interior violence had already been done to her” (315). Finding someone who questions her ISA has deeply hurt Mrs. McIntyre, yet she still clings to it saying that he is upsetting her other workers and that they would be better off without him around.

Josie's comments on A Good Man Is Hard To Find stirred some thoughts.

The other thing I wonder is if the Misfit is really all that educated or if what we see in him is just that Southern etiquette coming out, that false (I say false because it seems to only cover up a lack of respect shown in many instances, and I'm thinking of the Southern hospitality shown to blacks -evident in this story when Grandmother calls that child they see a "pickaninny" and mentions only that he has no pants and not that he had no pants because white men didn't give slave children pants to wear) level of respect If the Grandmother uses this Southern set of etiquette standards that can represent status, but also "goodness," then it explains, on another level, why the Grandmother keeps saying he's a good man - he is very polite which doesn't seem to fit what he is doing (why would a bad man be bothered with such politeness?). It is just another way I see O'Connor equalizing or leveling the Misfit and the Grandmother.

I'm with Rachel, in her blog, trying to figure out the Misfit. When I read that the Misfit could not remember what he'd done wrong but said "it was no mistake" and that they had papers saying what he'd done coupled with the fact that the shrink said that what he'd done is killed his father when the Misfit says his father died in the 1919 (WWI) flu epidemic, I came to the conclussion that he murdered someone (not really his father) who in some way represented his father. The Misfit simply did not understand what was the psychologist's reason for motive in the killing. This is supported by the information we are given regarding his relationship with his father: "My daddy said I was a different breed of dog from my brothers and sisters. 'You know. . . it's some that can live their whole life out without asking about it and it's others has to know whyit is, and this boy is one of the latters. He's going to be into everything.'" I got the general impression that he was singled out by his father and perhaps judged and treated like a dog or in a way the Misfit has not been able to deal with. It makes it all the more interesting to note his reaction to the Grandmother's recognition of him as "one of [her] babies." In so doing she touches him and "the Misfit sprang back as if a snade had bitten him and shot her three times through the chest...." It seems that psychologist's explaination for motive has played out again in the Grandmother's case. I'm wondering if anyone else see's it this way?
I'm wondering what you all make of some other things. Like the writting the Misfit seems to be doing in the dirt. Do you think it is reminisant of Christ's writing in the sand? And if so, what are the implications? I see the Grandmother as a sinner as well. She lies- just little white lies like the hidden panel lie that is in the old house and exagerates like saying the car rolled twice. She is a hypocrite, like when she points out that when she was young "children were more respectful" in every sense and then points out the "pickaninny" which undermines her statement as her genereation were probably the most disrespectful of black people and she obviously still is. And she even deny's Jesus as the Christ when she says "Maybe He didn't raise the dead" in order to protect herself. I'm intriged this reading with the statement the Misfit makes on p.150:

I found out the crime don't matter. You can do one thing or you can do
another, kill a man or take his tire off his car, because sooner or later
you're going to forget what it was you done and just be punished for
it.

From a theological standpoint, and I am assuming Catholic theology, but please
correct me if I'm wrong, it doesn't matter what the sin is, all sinner need Christ, evenif all they do is "steal a tire." O'Connor seems to always level the field.

I also want to know what you think of her saying "I just know your a good man" and the Misfit reacting with "Nome, I ain't a good man," yet she doesn't give this idea up. It is interesting to me that after he says this he puts on the black hat. I know we've talked in class about the black hat and the big deal that was made over it, I just can't help but apply the western or cowboy literature applications of white hat, goodguy; black hat, bad guy. If this even applies, what do you make (if anything) of the grandmother's navy blue hat with white violets?

I'm wondering who is trying to save or help who, the Grandmother who is saying "pray, pray," which I can't help thinking is what she (or I in her place would be doing) should be doing. Or the Misfit who by holding a gun to her is encouraging her to say "I know your a good man," which is not true but the point is that she is not judging or condeming him or others as she recognizes (even if it's just out of selfpreservation) that grace makes them equal, all good if they only confess. I'm wondering I the Misfit has, in a way, confessed to her? The comment the Misfit makes: "No pleasure but meanness," I'm wondering about too. Is the pleasure he finds what I have just mentioned, that this woman is calling him "a good man" and perhaps seeing him with that potential? Or does't it just simply fit or make up for life's (and his own) seemingly unballanced punishments?

Like Rachel, I was also disappointed by the fact that there were not blog entries about "A Good Man is Hard to Find." I guess our blog just wasn't up and running that early in the semester. Bummer. Anyways, since this was the second time I've read this story, I also found myself paying closer attention to the Misfit. Rachel said in her blog that the first time around, she envisioned the Misfit as a younger man. I did the same thing, although I didn't classify him as ignorant. It blatantly states in the story that "he was an older man than the other two. His hair was just beginning to gray" (146) so I don't know why we pictured him as so much younger. He seemed, to me, to be the leader in a gang of rebellious kids. Envisioning him as an older man sheds a new light on this for me; although I know he is dangerous (since I have read this before and know what's coming), he seems to be more dangerous, if that's possible, as an older, educated man than he would be as a younger man. I guess this is partly due to the fact that he is experienced, and, as an older convict, likely has more numerous crimes under his belt than when he was younger. I missed it before, but O'Connor may have been suggesting that he may have killed other "folks" just prior to encountering this family. After he apologizes for his shirtless-ness, he says "we borrowed these (clothes) from some folks we met" (149). While this is merely conjecture, I would be willing to bet that those "folks" met a similar fate as Bailey's family. After all, doesn't the Misfit "borrow" Bailey's shirt after he is shot in cold blood in the forest?

Another thing I failed to recognize on our first read was the Misfit's repeated statement that "children make me nervous" (146). I wondered why he would shoot the children, especially the infant, when they presented very little threat to him and he had nothing to gain by killing them; the baby wasn't even old enough to testify against him. Perhaps his nervousness arises from the fact that children are blatanty honest and may not recognize him for what he is: a very real and dangerous threat. For example, rather than being afraid of these strangers, the first thing June Star says to the Misfit is " 'What are you telling US what to do for?' " They intimidate him more than any of the adults, which is why, I believe, he makes the choice to kill every last one of them.

Sara's The Ten Commandments was a good overview of the stories for me. I was also intrigued by the fact that there is very little adultery found in either O'Connor's or Porter's stories. I agree with Sara's idea that perhaps it isn't only the physical act of having sex with another person besides your spouse that is considered to be adultery. It is also very likely that replacing your spouse with something else (religion as in Parker's Back for Sarah Ruth for just one example) is also considered adulterous. Though, I wonder if that works the same way as it does for "thou shalt have no other god before me" commandment.

I have done a bit of research on Porter and I read somewhere (though I'm not so sure how reliable of a source it was because I don't remember exactly where it was, but I think it might have been some silly website) that Porter got married once but "was so afraid of sex that the marriage was never consummated" (I seem to remember the words better than the website). I wonder if this "fear of sex" had something to do with the fact that it is mentioned so little in Porter's stories...then again, I don't know if that information is true or if someone just made it up for kicks and giggles. I have no idea why O'Connor would not put it in her stories other than maybe being a Christian woman means that you don't talk about sex (I know many people who are so "religious" that they would never dare to speak of sex, not even to explain to their children what it is). I wonder if being religious meant, to these two particular authors, that talking about sex is not acceptable. And to write about it? Oh no, that would be unthinkable!

the more I think about this idea, the more I am drawn to it. I know that being religious does not necessarily mean that you will be "prudish," but there are many who seem to think the two go hand in hand. Perhaps it did in these two cases, which is why there is so little talk of adultery. Perhaps the one sin we all need to brush under the rug. Do you think?

I wanted to read all of the former blogs on “A Good Man Is Hard To Find” but couldn’t find any, so I am writing one now. “A Good Man” was one of the very first O’Connor stories that I have ever read and so, for me, it was a very strong and shocking introduction to O’Connor. I think that I was so shocked by it I focused entirely on what happened and not how and why things happened. On this rereading, I found things that I didn’t see before and am so amazed, especially by the “Misfit.”


I hadn’t really paid that much attention to the Misfit before, but now he fascinates me. I guess that I hadn’t really read the story very well the first time because the person that I had in my mind for the Misfit is a very young twenty-something who had a hat covering his face, forcing his face in shadow, and a very ignorant, uneducated man. But in rereading the story, the Misfit is very different from my image and he becomes even scarier. The Misfit is not young, he is older, and by his speech we know that he is not the most educated, but what he has to say is very profound with great meaning. This is even more intimidating than a young man with no cause. (Also, it is another character that uses a hat to cover his face, not the Misfit).


I found that the way the Misfit came to have his name is very interesting, “’I call myself The Misfit,’ he said, ‘because I can’t make what all I done wrong fit what all I gone through in punishment.’” (151). The Misfit is very concerned with things “fitting” together and making sense with proof. So it is a bit ironic that his name is contradictory to how he prefers life to be.
With the fact that the Misfit wants proof of things fitting together, his stance on Christ is very interesting. “’If He did what He said, than it’s nothing for you to do but throw away everything and follow Him, and if He didn’t, then it’s for nothing for to do but enjoy the few minutes you got left the best way you can’” (152), “’It ain’t right I wasn’t there because if I had of been there I would of known’” (152). The reason why the Misfit does what he does is because he didn’t witness what Christ did and so he doesn’t follow Him. The Misfit doesn’t have solid proof and so he can’t rely on what people just say to do.


I don’t quite know what to do with the fact that the Misfit first says, “No pleasure [in life] but meanness” (152). But then after he kills the Grandmother, he makes the comment about “if it had been somebody there to shoot her every minute of her life” (153). And Bobby Lee, one of the other men, only focuses on the shooting part and misses entirely what the Misfit meant. In his ignorance Bobby Lee says, “’Some fun!’” (153), and the Misfit chastises him replying “’Shut up, Bobby Lee,’ The Misfit said. 'It’s no real pleasure in life'” (153).

I have ideas floating around but they won’t come together as the reason why the Misfit contradicts himself, so if anyone has any solid ideas that they can articulate, that would be awesome if you could share them with me.

This is a chapter from a book called What is a Book? by the Poet/Critic David Kirby.

It is called "What is a Critic?" and you can download it here.

Kay and I don't have a particular time assigned for this right now, but we might have more information on that this week, likely on Thursday.

I think it will add an interesting dimension to our discussions about what it means to do critical work, or perhaps what it does not mean. In any case, it's fuel for the fire.

Enjoy!

I ran into a similar conclusion as Josie about how the villain in "Free Radicals" has a completely different place in the story than O'Connor's villain. Often enough, the villains in O'Connor's stories are hard to identify at the end-well, sort of, there often isn't a definite villain in O'Connor's stories that can be easily identified, even at the end. Sure, the characters do stupid things, they are flawed, they make mistakes that make me want to slap my forehead. But I can honestly say that the slapping of the forehead was often because I had made a similar mistake (less tragic of course). And this is where I see where O'Connor is going with her characters role and purpose. The tragedy of O'Connor's stories becomes our own personal tragedy as we realize what we are. In "Free Radicals," the characters have a different reason for being. It was less personal to me, because I didn't think, "gee, I can really take that as a lesson for myself," or "wow, I've kind of been like (character's name) before in a way...that is really scary." "Free Radicals" was more just a look at the character's and sure, the mystery was still there for me, certainly not to the extent of O'Connor, but the entire time I was viewing the situation from the outside. For O'Connor I am viewing the situation from the outside only to have it turned inwards at the end. Perhaps this is only me who gets this reaction from reading O'Connor, but to me I feel like that personal reflection caused by the twists of her stories is like a slap in the face every time, and the only thing predictable was that the ending would come in a way I least expected it to. I had to stop guessing, it was useless!

Which leads me to another question, how does an author find so many paths in their writing? Is it like those adventure series books, where you get to a certain place in the book and must choose which way to go to get a different outcome?

I had made an earlier post about my obsession with the hats that we see in O'Connor and Porter's stories. As primitive as it was, my original post was a start to something I could see in the representation of the hats in our authors' stories. Now go with me on this...the hats...I believe, are a "vehicle" if you will, to show the ignorance of what they really are. The characters in the stories were the hats are mentioned or have some importance in the story, are completely unaware of how other people see them. For instance in "Everything That Rises Must Converge," Julian's mother believes one thing (that her hat is fabulous) and doesn't realize (at least in Julian's eyes) that it is actually very hideous...reminiscent of the picture I embedded. It is almost like a sign saying "take a good hard look at me, I'm blind to what I really am." It is certainly an interesting concept much like my idea of "miserable awkwardness" I mentioned before. This is brilliance--that O'Connor takes the uncomfortable and what we naturally avoid and takes us deep into the story than we'd like to choose...and in the end it is twisted and reflected on us...the reader and we realize the reality of what we are.

One of my favorite letters by Katherine Anne Porter is one to Paul Porter on page 283, where she deals with an issue all to familiar in our society. Like (I think it was Todd?) said that the issues and ideas that we deal with are nothing new to our generation. A common complaint of my own has been that people seem to not understand the initial purpose of free speech, and in fact take a mistaken advantage of it. Katherine's letters are remarkable to me because she talks about real topics in society, instead of some type of personal chit-chat. Sure, she does do this from time to time, naturally. But when was the last time you wrote an email to someone (or letter at that) and pondered about "our current situation"? Some of you may have, but I surely have not. Her letters are surprisingly conversation-like.

We had talked on Tuesday about how much design and thought goes into the structure of a letter. Of course, it varies depending on the person, but I really hadn't thought much about it until then. Obviously the process of a letter, much like this blog has been to me-is a bit less formal and deliberate than a short story or a paper. But instead of a meticulous outline, I can see through Katherine and Flannery O'Connor's letters that that writing becomes thinking about what they were writing a sentence maybe ahead. That not might make any sense-but I also see them writing their letters and thinking maybe in advance with a little short-term memory power to make the letter come around and cohere in some way.

As I have read several letters of Porter's from beginning to end, I have noticed her fierceness wear off through the years until her last few letters which have a little sentimentality. She goes from biting back at harsh criticism and general society, to blessing her receivers. It is something I'm interested in, this idea of age kind of transforming a person. If anyone else sees this (or doesn't) feel free to comment, but I feel as if her letters become less energetic in her disagreements. Or maybe it isn't an issue with energy at all, rather just a lack of caring at this point in her life.

But what I find fascinating as well is to look at her life, full of health problems, etcetera and see that she actually lived a very long time. Of course, there is a picture of her father at 80 years old in the book, it must have been hereditary, but still, she does talk a lot about her lungs problems and bouts with sickness lingering from her initial spanish influenza. I'm not trying to say she exaggerated these things at all, just that it seems kind of strange that people either suffer with life, or die from it.

The past few days I have been pondering the whole issue of "intellectual" vs. "sentimental" stories. I can never seem to get enough of comments from people about movies, music, stories, etc. that they didn't like because it wasn't a "happy ending"--something we have brought up in class a couple of times I know.
Interestingly, in a letter to Seymour Lawrence in April 1956 Katherine Anne Porter complains about having received a letter from one Marc T. Greene - a "perfect stranger" to Katherine who seemed to feel offended-threatened, even, to have had to read her less than sappy work. I was happy to find that she doesn't make any attempt to excuse herself saying, "It is offensive." And than I thought it was funny how one old stranger finds it important enough to put the energy into writing an author because they are shocked at what they are reading, calling it "vile." She admits that other writers, "have got along nicely with not a bawdy scene or crooked word." Ha, but then she follows with,

There are plenty of others; but not because they see and write about the
baseness and cheapness of life, but because they know nothing else, or
will not admit the truth of anything higher. I write of the base aspects of
human character out of a loathing of it, really--yet it is there, all mixed in
with the good and the desirable...

And isn't that what life is about anyway? A whole spectrum of characters out there identifying themselves differently-- and that is simply what Katherine was writing about, actual people.

In the blog I wrote about how I really, really just want Katherine Anne Porter to by my friend, I mentioned that she wasn't really jazzed about William Faulkner (as a person; she semi-complimented his The Sound and the Fury on one occasion) and thought little of him. Chelsea Lane told me she'd gotten the impression that the same was true of Porter's view of Ernest Hemingway, and Jillian posted a blog about Porter's anti-fandom of Maughan and Wilde. All these accumulated insults/discrediting of well-respected or widely read pieces of literature reminded me somewhat of a question Todd asked once about the stories of O'Connor and Porter: How would you read this story if it was just coming out of the fax machine? In other words, would we respect some of these stories as much if a famous author's name wasn't attached?

Well, anyway, one writer that Porter seems to have absolutely loved is Marianne Moore. On page 410 of the Letters collection, she describes Moore as "my favorite living poet, and one of the most delicious persons alive."

So, okay: at least when it comes to Faulkner, Hemingway, and (I think?) Maughan, Porter's distaste for their writing is influenced at least partially by knowing them personally and simply not liking them as people, or at least that's what her letters suggest to me. She calls Moore "one of the most delicious persons alive," and I wonder if maybe Porter's affection for Moore's poetry is determined somewhat by her love of Moore herself. It seems at least plausible.

I think that same concept - liking a person's work more when you like the person - is at play somewhat in this whole letter-reading campaign. I know I'm a little fixated on Porter's letters; this is basically the third blog I've written about how I absolutely adore reading them. Part of that adoration might be that reading Porter's letters gives me more understanding of who she was (or, at least, it helps me form my perception of who she was, and that may or may not be altogether accurate), and if I like the person she was, then I get to have an added measure of enjoyment when I reread the stories I liked so much to begin with.

The perception I've formed of Porter is more or less that she's just awesome, and I mean that in the slang sense and the actual sense; I'm awed by her work and from what I can tell of her life. Being a semi-crazed fan can't not taint my opinion of her work, but I don't think it would/will make me love a story that I would be indifferent to if it weren't for Porter's name at the top. It probably just means I'll rave a little more loudly about the ones I started out loving.

When I was little, I loved a movie with a name I had to look up on imdb.com just now. It was called "Heart and Souls," and it was about four people who died when the bus they were on crashed. The plot's not really important or anything; the point is that I loved it. We didn't own it or anything, but I know my mom must have rented it for me over and over again. I clearly remember a time in the video rental section at Smith's with my dad, who had no patience for such repetition, and he wouldn't let me rent it because I'd seen it already.

We talked a week or two ago about the love of repetition when it comes to stories. A few movies, including "Heart and Souls," came to mind for me during that discussion, and I wrote down in my notes, "As adults, we like repetition of structure but difference in detail." (I don't know at all if that was a comment someone else made or if it was a conclusion I came to myself, so sorry if I just stole that.) I think it's pretty true. I adore unique characters and distinctive voice in stories - that 'difference in detail' thing - but repetition of form or structure or theme is something I think many readers can recognize, if asked to, in the stories they like. That's the draw of romantic comedies, right? And slasher films? And romance novels? And Marvel comics? The pictures and words change, but there's safety in the story. It kind of feels like the grown-up version of four-year-old Sara would love to have four or five copies of "Heart and Souls" that all feature a different lead actor or soundtrack, maybe one shot in black and white, but with the four ghosts all getting to heaven in each version, just like they did in the original, and with the romantic subplot I really liked.

The repeated story for O'Connor is loose, but I think it hinges on two ideas:
1) The stranger comes to town.
2) The first shall be last, and the last shall be first.

I don't know how many of you have read the editor's note and introduction that Isabel Bayley wrote for Letters of Katherine Anne Porter, but they're delightful and illuminating, so I'd really suggest that you do. Something from the introduction stood out to me and reminded me of our conversation in class on Tuesday about the letter-writing process and how much advance thought Porter and O'Connor may have given to their letters. On page 7, Bayley relates this statement of Porter's: "Letters I always thought were meant to be personal messages standing instead of talk between two persons who are not arguing, or trying to convert each other to anything, or writing essays for posterity or even the present public - so the free-er and easier the tone, the nearer it comes to a letter, seems to me." And later on the same page, "I write at top speed with no effort, if I didn't I'd never get time to write letters at all."

If I didn't feel so completely happy about all things Katherine Anne Porter, I'd be a little maddened by this last statement. These letters are just too beautiful. Whether it was habit or natural talent that resulted in such well-phrased sentences and glowing insights with "no effort" on her part, I don't know and couldn't speculate on.

When we started out with the letters of Porter and O'Connor, Kay commented that the volume of Porter's letters (which, according to the book's introduction, is but a very small representation of all the letters Porter wrote in her lifetime) is larger than the volume of her stories. If being a writer of short stories is considered less prestigious than being a novelist, as we talked about once, then I think that being primarily a letter-writer would be seen a little lower even, because they're (a) shorter and (b) personal, so presumably easier to write. Whatever. Porter does the job impressively, and I'd rather read her letters than almost anything else right now.

P.S. I'd suggest looking up the index entry for "Porter, Katherine Anne: on letter-writing," because there are some fantastic entries, particularly about letter-writing as a feminine thing and on the legal mumbo-jumbo of ownership.

After scanning the index of the Porter letters book I looked up what she had to say about other authors, and I must say I was rather depressed about what she wrote of two of my favorites (but then again, I have a lot of favorites.)

Of W. Somerset Maugham she writes:

First off: Somerset Maugham is a phony…Years ago I read Of Human Bondage, and that is a good solid, airless, beefy English novel, his masterpiece. For the rest he tells good, made-up tales that might entertain you if you hadn’t got a God’s other thing to read and were bored anyhow. He is a trivial, conventional minded, professional hack and I think it is perfectly proper that he should be elected Dean of English Lit. at once…He has all the qualifications, including the stipulated half-ton of half-good books (169).

Of Oscar Wilde she writes:

Oscar always did make me queasy, I always thought him one of the most tiresome men ever born—there is in English letters only one other that bores me as much, Lord Byron (401).

I thought it somewhat funny that she wrote so disparagingly of these two authors. I find that the main source of humor in Porter’s writings is irony, something that she shares in common with Maugham and Wilde. Additionally, like these two gentlemen, her stories revolve primarily around human relationships and social commentary. She creates very real characters but often looks at them under a satirical lens, again like Wilde and Maugham. In fact, I think these authors share many traits in common that attract me to their writing styles.

P.S. I actually wrote this blog prior to today’s class and never got around to posting it (mainly because blogger seems to hate me) but I have a little mini-treat to add after someone’s revelation about a “girl book” today. Here is what Porter has to say about that book:

“I consider Wuthering Heights the purest act of genius in the world of the novel; nobody male or female has ever beat Emily Bronte at that!” (503)

“Sample of higher education: the other day a young woman in the advanced fiction class said the most wonderful picture she had ever seen in her life was Wuthering Heights. I told her she should read the book, too. She was thrilled. “Oh,” said she “Did they make a book of it?” (365)