What does one really learn from Brecht’s “learning plays”? April 30, 2007

In his article, “Brecht’s Marxist Aesthetic,” Kellner discusses Brecht’s “learning plays.” By using audience participation, he strives to inspire audience members to think critically and take action. His methods fall into the category of “active learning,” the campus-wide goal of UTA for the next ten years.  It has been proven that people learn better by doing than by watching. Brecht’s idea of having actors and audience doing role play has been used for years as a counseling tool and even as a managerial assessment tool in job interviews. Given his pedagogical theory for a socialist future, this would be a very effective tool when combined with skillful playwriting.

I do have questions, though. Since “a socialist theater should attempt to be useful to the state and socialize individuals into appropriate socialist values,” was the director looking for the same answer from everyone? Was it to shock them out of the haze of complacency toward action, any action? Was it to push them to one side or the other of an issue, to divide the “wheat” from the “tares?” Perhaps he thought that if everyone was confronted with the “truth” and then forced to think, learn and act, they would inevitably come to an enlightened decision. It seems to me that in his “learning” plays, something is being taught. Maybe it’s how to effectively use propaganda?

Not for the faint of heart April 24, 2007

Vargas Llosa’s story “The Cubs” is not for the faint-hearted. The impression I received from the picture on the cover of a laughing child holding a teddy bear and from the title itself prepared me for a warm, fuzzy experience. Far from it.

From the first page, I knew I was in for some work. The narrative voice with the inconsistent pronouns brought my pencil to the page, not to mention the lack of quotation marks and conventional sentence structure. I pressed on, determined to decipher his unusual style.

Then I came to the dog attack scene. That was difficult. But I went on. Soon my frustration with the style was forgotten and replaced by the pain I felt for Cuellar as I became totally immersed in his struggle for identity, purpose and acceptance.

Was it the pleasant tale I had expected? Not at all. Was I changed? Absolutely. Vargas Llosa’s captivating style drew me into the story in such a way that I felt I was there. Cuellar’s struggle isn’t to teach a lesson or to entertain. It raises more questions than it answers. It’s real life.

Vargas Llosas sums it up best in the preface: “What’s certain is that literature does not solve problems-instead, it creates them-and rather than happy, it makes people more apt to be unhappy. That’s how it is and it’s all part of my way of living and I wouldn’t change it for any other.” Neither would I.

Intrigue of Imagery April 9, 2007

From the very beginning, I was intrigued by the imagery of contrast in Césaire’s opening pages of Notebook of a Return to the Native Land. First, he hooks the reader in with the repetition of an ambiguous phrase “At the end of daybreak….” One associates daybreak with a beginning, a dawning, an enlightening, but he juxtaposes it with “end.” To me, this gives one the feeling of impending doom or destruction. He continues by using personification to describe Antilles: “the hungry Antilles, the Antilles pitted with smallpox, the Antilles dynamited with alcohol,” stranded in the mud of this bay. . .” This effectively gives the islands life and a sense of isolation and misery, revealing through them the history of their inhabitants.

Another strong image of contrast is conveyed through his description of the throng. Normally, one thinks of a throng as noisy, active, often driven by a common purpose. But Césaire describes the throng as “detoured,” “chattering and mute,” something that “does not pack, does not mix,” “not connected with anything that is expressed,, asserted, released in broad earth daylight.” Again, he draws the reader into his world of conflict and his world that doesn’t make sense.

The combination of these powerful images, as well as others, gave me a feeling of unrest, tension, isolation and incongruity. It compelled me to continue in his path to seek resolve. It was a journey worthwhile.

The Modernist Movement – Beyond Words April 2, 2007

As I read the article, The Modern Culture of Latin America,  I was struck by the depth and implications of the Modernist Movement. Being a French major, I was interested in why the Spanish writers turned to France when they were searching for direction. At that time, Castilian Spanish was not supplying the words they needed to express life in America. But it went way beyond that. The Spanish culture was lacking as well, hence, they had to turn to a different country and culture for inspiration.

This article makes one realize how language is enmeshed with culture, intellectual inspirations, progressiveness,  identity and global influence. It makes you realize what a responsibility we have as a society to not only preserve out language, but to foster an intellectual, cultural and spiritual environment that will meet the  demands of future generations.

Go Ahead, Make my Day! March 30, 2007

Last Monday, I found that Dr. Ruiz-Perez’s interesting insight into Rulfo’s style sparked a series of connections to the literature we have been reading. It started with his highlighting those authors who influenced Rulfo: Azuela, Yanez, dos Passos, Faulkner, and Masters. Then as he analyzed his style, bells started going off as I heard “stream of consciousness,” the use of “myth,” “fragmentation of structure” leading to “active reading,” and how the author used analepsis and prolepsis. This very much reminded me of La Modification by Michel Butor, which we just read in 20th century French Literature. As soon as I thought that, Don pointed it out to the class and a discussion ensued about the possible connections. Here is mine.

Pedro Paramo was written in 1955, La Modification in 1956. Like Pedro Paramo, it uses stream of consciousness, myth and fragmented structure. Since they were contemporaries, it was not surprising to find that Butor was also influenced by Faulkner (which can be evidenced by some of his sentences that are two pages long!)

Butor’s connection to our class doesn’t stop there. His entire novel takes place on a train ride from Paris to Rome and includes a large amount of minutia: each time a passenger moves a window up or down, the debris under his shoe, clothing of each passenger, etc. Now what name pops into your mind? None but Flaubert!

So often in grad school, you get overwhelmed with reading, writing, teaching and other assignments, but when you make these connections that lead you to a glimpse into “the big picture”, it really makes your day! Maybe that’s what this higher education is all about.

Emptiness in Endgame and Sentimental Education March 20, 2007

  While reading Endgame, I was overwhelmed by the sense of emptiness in the characters’ lives and souls. Being an optimistic person, I was amazed at how the play moved me with compassion toward anyone who feels this emptiness. Perhaps that was one of Beckett’s goals. Whether he intended it or not, his theme of emptiness pervades the entire work.

The characters themselves manifest emptiness, or absence. Hamm is blind, and Nagg and Nell talk about their loss of sight. Hamm has also lost the use of his legs, and Clov cannot sit. At the beginning of the play, Hamm says, “the bigger a man is the fuller he is. And the emptier.” (p. 3) He tells Clov he will be “a speck in the void, in the dark, forever, like me,” and speaks of the “infinite emptiness.” (p. 36) Emptiness is conveyed through their surroundings: the room is starkly set and the outside world is only grey. The word  “zero” is used to describe what Clov sees outside and also as the temperature in Hamm’s story. Throughout the play, the characters continually mention the absence of things: painkiller, nature bicycle wheels, pap, navigators, sunshine, sound of the sea, light, Turkish Delight.  Hamm and Clov justify their co-existence by saying their is “no one else” and “no where else.”

Oddly enough, I had a similar empty feeling after reading Sentimental Education. Although the styles are totally different, I believe both authors were trying to portray a certain emptiness of their society. Flaubert used ornate description and details to make us understand that in the midst of wealth, advantage and social position,  Frederic still had a vacuous life.  The big difference was that he never seemed to realize it. So which is more pitiful?

Flaubert only paints the picture; he leaves the judgment up to the reader. Beckett puts all the angst, misery, doubt and fear right out there for us, yet, as Dr. Van Noort said, there are a million ways to interpret it. With both authors, we get the opportunity to step into the world of others and gain a new perspective on ours.

Realism: Flaubert and “Wife Swap” February 26, 2007

    Before we pack up Flaubert’s Sentimental Education and put him neatly away in the Realism box, let’s compare him to the “realism” in our world today.

A main criticism of the book was that “nothing happens.” True, it had no grand exciting plot, no heroic rescue, no unforgettable romance; his goal was to portray the morality of his age. Yet, how many people in our culture are obsessed with “reality” TV? Week after week, season after season, we watch hundreds of talented or untalented ordinary people compete for the title of American Idol or Apprentice. We watch them do their thing, get judged and get thrown out. On other shows, we go into “real” people’s homes, see how they treat their kids, spouses, and neighbors, and how messy, disorganized, chaotic their homes are. Then we watch as a wives swap households, a nanny is sent in to give a crash course in child-rearing or a house magician remodels a home. When you write the plot of these popular serials, it sounds a bit dull, doesn’t it?

Yet, as a culture, we enjoy our realism. Perhaps it helps us connect with our society or even analyze or criticize it. Maybe we enjoy rooting for the little  guy in the world. Maybe we see ourselves in someone else’s shoes. At any rate, I don’t think it is much different from what Flaubert was trying to do (although I like his vocabulary much better!) If we, as readers of Flaubert, are willing to put ourselves into his world, we would see that it’s not about what happens. It’s about his attempt to bring that world to us so that our realm of experience spans more than our little lives.

Does Mother Nature have emotions? February 17, 2007

Anyone who has experienced the devastation of a hurricane or been trapped in a snowstorm may attribute human motives or emotions to Nature. There were doubtless victims of Katrina who felt the devastation had some purpose or even personal intent toward them. While reading Sab, the reader becomes attuned to the “moods” or “emotions” linked with Nature. As a romantic author, Avellaneda skillfully portrays the involvement of Nature and its moods in the lives of the characters.

As Carlota daydreams about how she finds Enrique handsome and pleasant (p. 40), she wanders “through the woods or by the banks of the Tinima, enraptured by the scents, the brilliant light, the gentle breezes…” clearly, the beautiful parallel of her beautiful Enrique. Many times Avellaneda uses a storm to portray violent emotion, anger or an omen of evil or misfortune, but she also uses it to attribute emotion to Nature: “A dreadful silence reigned over nature, which appeared to be watching the sky’s anger with dismay while it waited for the fulfillment of its threat with sad resignation.” (p. 49) She even goes so far as to have Nature speak, straight from the horse’s mouth on p. 58: “…the animal seemed to be saying ‘I love you a great deal so as to please you; from no other hand but yours do I gladly accept food.’” Portraying Nature and man in a symbiotic relationship, she states that, “Nature becomes more beautiful in the presence of the beloved, and this person in turn is embellished by Nature,” (p. 59) and similarly on p. 71, “There was in fact a certain harmony between the landscape and the woman, both so young and so beautiful.”

Reading Sab embodies the characteristics of Romanticism. The dramatic images and moods of Nature evoked by the author serves to keep the dramatic story alive in the reader’s memory, as the author might say, until the mountains crash into the sea.

Humanism and the Reformation: Enemies or Allies? February 8, 2007

I was intrigued by Dr. Conway’s question in class about the Reformation in light of Humanism. Dr. Ivanonva replied that Humanism and the Reformation had the common link of the emphasis on ancient texts, which would, in this case, be the Bible. I wondered if there were any other connections, so I read up on it a bit.

I found that even though the foundations of Humanism and the Reformation are incompatible, some aspects of the Humanist Movement equipped the Reformationists. Erasmus, a humanist, noted that the early Christians relied on direct study of the Bible. In Luther’s day, the reading of the Scriptures was controlled by the Church. It was very difficult for the average person to have access to the Bible. An important aspect of Humanism that affected the Reformation was that learning should be available to everyone. Its application advocated that manuscripts of all types be translated and put in the hands of the people. To the Reformationists, this meant the access to the Bible, and the power to interpret it firsthand instead of relying on the dogma of the Church.

I think another inspiration from the Humanists may have been to give people the push they needed to question the norm and to act on their convictions. By hearing the Humanism praise of the virtues of man, Luther may have been reminded that he was “gloriously and wondrously made” and had the courage to go ahead and nail the 95 Theses on the door. His was one protest that would never be forgotten.

Here are some interesting websites I read on this subject:

http://www.edwardtbabinski.us/sheldon/humanism.html

http://atheism.about.com/od/abouthumanism/a/reformation.htm

Candide with a Can-Can? February 5, 2007

This entry is definitely on the light side.

After reading the first 20 pages of Candide, I thought, “I see this as perfect material for a Monty Python sketch. Then I found out that it has been made into an OPERA! Can you imagine all the scene changes, the props, the number of actors? It would be a technical nightmare! Beside that, every word would be sung, so you have orchestra and chorus to direct. Click on the link below if you’d like to see some pictures and read about the performance in Prague. (Not too far from Westphalia? And what language did they perform it in? Click below to find out!)

http://www.opera.cz/en/repertoar/candide.html?PHPSESSID=e