Author: htomkowi
Does there have to be a purpose?
Anti-Gone was a pretty confusing and frustrating read for me, as it seemed to be for a lot of other people in the class, but I appreciate that it sort of mimicked a drug trip in really inventive, albeit wacky, ways. Something that struck me from class conversation, though, was the notion that Willumsen didn’t fully know (or understand) what he was making when he was constructing the book. On a certain level, I can relate to this — as a creative writer, my thesis turned into much more than I could have expected. And it’s hard to analyze, and sometimes even fully understand, something that you become so close to (in the process of constructing it). People in workshops glean messages from my stories that I may not have initially intended to include or convey. And sometimes people point out themes that I hadn’t fully recognized. This brings me to the question, then — does there have to be, or should we expect there to be, some sort of clear intent from the author/creator to further validate a piece of work?
Women Opposing Women
The first time I read The Handmaid’s Tale was in my freshman year of college, roughly three years ago. The political climate was different, and so was I. The novel struck a chord with me then, and still does, perhaps even more so now — given everything going on around us at present. Perhaps one of the most disturbing aspects, for me, of the rise and maintenance of Gilead is the involvement of women working to oppress the rights of other women. We obviously see Serena Joy and other wives reinforcing the patriarchal and fundamentalist Christian values of Gilead, and we also see the Aunts playing key roles. These characters struck me, but one character that I had not remembered from my first reading was Offred’s mother. That she doesn’t seem to oppose, and may even support, the magazine burnings and other actions against basic American freedoms surprised me. Yet Offred goes to college, so her mother can’t have been that entrenched in the values of the future leaders of Gilead, right? I’m still trying to parse it all out, but I can’t help but think about the unspoken things we are taught as women in America (typically). Because there are some unspoken rules amongst women, as I was taught. Stick your keys between your fingers on the way to your car at night. If you hear someone walking behind you, prepare yourself for an attack. Get your phone ready to dial 911. If you see a fellow woman being harassed or followed, come to her aid as best you can — befriend her, check up on her, make sure she’s okay. There’s a certain sisterhood that is fostered from the vulnerability and danger of being a woman. Something about that sacred bond being broken so brutally is really disturbing to me (among so many other things in this book).
Physical Manifestation of the Fragmentation of Memory
I was really intrigued by the organization of panels on the page showing Element Girl’s memories/dreamscape of Ra. The overlapping, slanted panels not only emphasize the fear and chaos of the memories, but they also echo the fragmentary nature of memories and the ways in which we can construct reality through those fragmentations. Memories have been shown to be fallible and able to be warped over time. I wrote in a story/paper once that “memories are fragile, fragmented. They aren’t canonized copies of literature bound up in fine leather. They’re flashcards, hastily stored, prone to re-shuffling and minor adjustments over time.” Even Element Girl admits, in the first panel on that page, “This didn’t happen. It was just the stone. It didn’t happen like this,” further suggesting the chaotic nature of memory and the ways in which it can influence our perceptions of the past and our present reality.
Be Right Back
I had an interesting experience reading The Invention of Morel for many reasons, one of which being the notes previously written in the margins (in my used copy of the book). The previous reader of my copy was clearly not a fan of the narrator’s obsession with Faustine, leaving notes such as “CREEPY” and “weird dude just stop” (both on page 59, when the narrator is talking about how his love for her has become annoying, at the same time acknowledging that they have never spoken). Notes with these sort of messages — such as “so weird” and “overall really creepy” — were prevalent in the margins throughout much of the story. And while I certainly agree with these sentiments, I picked up on something else that I really wanted to talk about in this blog post. Parts of the story, specifically Morel’s invention, reminded me of the Black Mirror episode “Be Right Back,” in which a woman who loses her husband in a car accident uses technology to resurrect a version of him — one that looks and talks like he does, but is not wholly him. Some moments, such as Morel attempting to reassure the group about their dead friend Charlie by saying “‘But I have him! If anyone would like to see him, I can show him to you. He was one of my first successful experiments'” (67) — evoked memories of this episode. And the wife, living in a different plane of existence than the replication of her dead husband, reminds me of the line: “to be in love with one of those images was worse than being in love with a ghost (perhaps we always want the person we love to have the existence of a ghost)'” (75). It’s a great episode that ties really well with a lot of the concepts presented in this story.
Thoughts on Tinkercad and Unity
I’ve found myself in an interesting position during these recent workshops. On the one hand, I have a pretty strong technical background, but on the other hand, my I’m not great at creating visual art, so I definitely struggled a bit with the virtual object. I agree with what a lot of people have been saying regarding Tinkercad, in that it’s a great, user-friendly application, but that a lot of the shapes are really rigid, and it’s tough to manipulate them to create free-flowing shapes. Unity seems far more complicated (understandably), but I’m excited to really get started with it. I think that the prefabs will definitely make the process easier, and I appreciate that we’re taking a seemingly more beginner-friendly approach to creating our virtual reality landscapes. We’re combining technology and art, which is honestly something I’m really glad I’m getting to experience before I graduate.
What a Witch!
Going off of our conversation in class today, gender is an interesting lens through which to look at the story and its characters. On the one hand, we see the egalitarian relationship between Aunt Em and Uncle Henry — he is not the sole breadwinner, for she carries her weight in completing labor. We also see other examples of matriarchy, such as the Queen of the Field Mice. Dorothy is the “everywoman” in that she does not have a whole lot of distinguishing characteristics that would separate or differentiate her from the average young girl from Kansas. And while the witches are actually much more powerful than the Wizard of Oz, what interests me most is the dichotomy between these witches — the battle of good vs. evil, or a so-called harlot-saint dichotomy. It’s a common trope to present female characters at either extreme end of the binary — being wholly good or bad, but the reality of women, and of people, is that they are complex. The difference between purity and evil is set out between Glinda and the Wicked Witch of the West, but in painting them in such stark terms — at odds with each other, this binary is reinforced, despite all the other empowering roles for female characters in the book.
Setting up the dream
I’m never quite sure what to expect when I am familiar with a movie before I read the book it was adapted from. I have seen the movie version of the Wizard of Oz many times — I grew up with it, so I was interested in how the book agreed and disagreed with that filmic translation. The movie sets viewers up to recognize similar elements in Oz as we do in Dorothy’s life in Kansas — farm hands become the scarecrow, the tinman, and the cowardly lion, and other characters change form as well. For example, Professor Marvel, the fraud in Kansas, becomes the Wizard of Oz, the essential fraud in Oz. With that, viewers are set up to see Dorothy’s experience as a dream. I expected a similar setup in the novel, which obviously did not occur. However, certain elements created a similar, if less obvious, effect. Everything is gray in Dorothy’s Kansas, even Aunt Em and Uncle Henry — the technicolor that follows, the “lovely patches of green” (18) and “banks of gorgeous flowers” (18) feel vibrant but dreamlike in comparison. Furthermore, the relative calmness of the house in the eye of the storm that rocks the house gently, “like a baby in a cradle” (12) allows for Dorothy to fall “fast asleep” (13). The fact that readers observe Dorothy actually falling asleep in the trancelike rocking surrounded by wailing winds hints at the land of Oz being a part of a dream as well — I’m curious to see how the eventual endings will differ.
Alice as Children’s Lit
The conversation we had on Monday about whether we could or should classify Alice’s adventures as children’s literature really got me thinking. Before starting this story, I personally hadn’t had any exposure to Carroll’s Alice — I had never read any of the stories (or had them read to me), nor had I seen any movie adaptations. The reason? My mom thought the stories were inspired by/indicative of a drug trip, sort of like how The Beatles’ song “Lucy in the Sky With Diamonds” gives a nod to LSD. It’s interesting, though, because as I read, I certainly do see the imaginative, quirky, and dreamlike elements that could give off this idea, but at the same time, the story doesn’t feel random. Sure, the pace is abrupt (perhaps to help keep hold of a child’s imagination), but the concepts are complex and thought-provoking, not just tangerine trees and marmalade skies. Reading this as an adult, it’s hard for me to imagine how I would have reacted to this story had I been previously exposed to it — it would certainly feel more familiar, but I think the backwards world of the looking glass would still throw me off a bit. I’d agree that the story is one that both kids and adults can enjoy, each bringing different insights to the text. We often underestimate kids’ abilities to understand complex concepts, but we forget that their imaginations allow for Alice’s world to feel truly real.
