Lit Summer 2014

Salton Sea Shore

Into the Wild: The following questions/prompts should be addressed by means of reference to the chapter handouts distributed in class last week and to be uploaded at the ecompanion site (sorry, but the site is down of this writing and can't be accessed from my end, but Tuesday morning some help should be at hand). Please use specifics and strong support in summary and direct quotation. I'm looking for clear, well-organized and developed responses. This work will count as response #4.

1. What kind of impression did Christopher McCandless make on the people who got to know him during his hejira?

2. What do we learn of Mr. Franz from the chapter "Anza-Borrego" that the film does not include and, too, of the impact of Alex on him?

3. In "The Stampede Trail" the author Jon Krakauer visits the Alaskan site where McCandless lived for nearly four months, alone. What does he say to explain the motivations and aspirations of McCandless? What has he found in McCandless's adventure that merits comparison with other well-known seekers of wilderness experience, such as John Muir and Henry David Thoreau? What does wilderness teach, demand, evoke?

Final Project Composition Description

Due week 10 or, if you must, week 11, the final composition is an individual creative piece of 1000 words length, fictional or non-fictional: poetry, short story, brief play, essay, or some combination of the genres. You might consider rewriting or remaking some well-known story, myth, or fairytale. If you choose to write a short story or other fictional piece and the word count falls short, an introduction to the piece, discussing your creative intent and influences, may serve for any shortfall in the main text. Short stories or fictional works should be plausibly developed and structured to maximize aesthetic and dramatic engagement of the reader.

Original illustrations in whatever medium you choose may be used to enhance the presentation and substitute for any minimal word shortfall (of 200-300 words). Double space and title your piece.

All essays must address themselves to a literary text(s) and/or theme and make reference to particular textual sources. You may write on a theme developed in any one or several of the various texts looked at this quarter. You may choose to write a personal essay that recounts your own “journey,” with references to and/or comparisons to stories or poems read; in short, you may write a piece that illustrates certain literary plot lines or themes in terms of your own personal experience. Double space and title your piece.

If you are writing a standard interpretative essay that focuses on the specific construction and meaning of a text, introduce subject texts by title and author up front. The introductory paragraph(s) should make clear what point you intend to develop as a thesis, and the body paragraphs should set forth the material textual evidence and examples that have led to your thesis claim. Your aim is to show readers how a text may be read in the manner you are claiming. Provide support for your thesis through use of direct quotation, paraphrase and summary where necessary.

Topic Suggestions:

*Explore natural images that provide us with a way of thinking about human feelings and the self, the life cycle from birth through death, the effects of time’s passing, our place in the natural world, what we need and want from life.

*Explore stories that illustrate particular conflicts between generations, as between children and parents, men and women, or between the relatively powerless and those who have power– be it superior physical strength, age, or perhaps the authority of tradition, custom, and law on their side.

*Explore the individual’s search for meaning in the world, or of those characters whose experience is of a kind that seems to offer insight and understanding as regards some particular subject, whether the importance of family, role models, the need for independence, distance, freedom, strength, courage, fortitude, a quiet space to reflect and create, etcetera.

Allen Ginsberg

Next we will look at Howl, a poem by Allen Ginsberg and a film about the poet and his work. One of its source inspirations, (http://www.poetryfoundation.org/poem/174745) "Song of Myself", by Walt Whitman, invites stylisic and thematic comparison.

Having you watch the film Howl (starring James Franco in the role of the poet Allen Ginsberg, author of the poem “Howl”) I am interested in your response to the content of the poem and the film, the poet’s explanations of his work and why he wrote it, and the critical responses expressed during the trial scenes. If you owe a short response, or want to focus on Howl as a final project: In your own words, relate what the poem is about, what you thought of Ginsberg’s discussion of the work, and the opinions aired in court on the matter of its obscenity or no, its artistic merit, the advisability of censoring its publication, etcetera (350 words, short response).

Several links posted here may be useful:

http://www.shmoop.com/howl/section-1-lines-6-10-summary.html

http://www.dhs.fjanosco.net/Documents/HowlOnTrial.pdf

Howl is a film based on a now very famous poem–"Howl"–by Allen Ginsberg (1926-1997). At the time of its writing, Ginsberg was a young man coming to terms with his own identity as a homosexual and felt himself at odds with much of American culture, in particular its militarism and capitalistic excesses and its opposition to homosexuality. The poem is personal, autobiographical, raw, and graphic in its depictions of a generation ("the best minds of my generation") living on edge, and finding meaning (or whatever "sensations") on those edges. The poem became famous, at least in part, when government authorities claimed it obscene, and a trial ensued to have its publication banned. Ginsberg wrote the poem in free verse in a style imitative of Walt Whitman's work ("Song of Myself)", in long lines uttered with force, in sometimes broken syntax and with odd juxtapositions of words that reflect the urgency, intensity and spontaneity of Ginsberg's poetic vision. In the trial, prosecutors objected to the poem's profane language and sexual content, and contended it had no literary merit. The defense claimed the language and content were necessary to portray truthfully the culture and attitudes of Ginsberg's subjects.

----------

In the Symposium of Plato, an inquiry into the nature of love is made by Socrates and his guests. One story comes from Aristophanes: “Mankind, he said, judging by their neglect of him, have never, as I think, at all understood the power of Love. For if they had understood him they would surely have built noble temples and altars, and offered solemn sacrifices in his honour; but this is not done, and most certainly ought to be done: since of all the gods he is the best friend of men, the helper and the healer of the ills which are the great impediment to the happiness of the race. I will try to describe his power to you, and you shall teach the rest of the world what I am teaching you.”

He goes on to speak of an ancient myth recounted by Homer that humans were originally of three kinds or sexes, each with two heads, four hands, four arms and legs, and so on. There was man, woman, and a combination of the two, the androgyne. These were mighty creatures and they made an attack upon the gods, who repelled them and then sought to curtail their power. Zeus decided to split them in two. Thus, in this myth, we have since spent our lives yearning for our other half, whether male or female:

And when one of them meets with his other half, the actual half of himself, whether he be a lover of youth or a lover of another sort, the pair are lost in an amazement of love and friendship and intimacy, and one will not be out of the other's sight, as I may say, even for a moment: these are the people who pass their whole lives together, and yet they could not explain what they desire of one another. For the intense yearning which each of them has towards the other does not appear to be the desire of lover's intercourse, but of something else which the soul of either evidently desires and cannot tell, and of which she has only a dark and doubtful presentiment. –from Aristophanes's Speech from Plato's Symposium

Review:

Figurative language is the primary mode of poetry, language compressed and concentrated and made expressive and evocative through association. Figuration or tropes take different forms, as metaphor, personification, simile, symbol, synecdoche, metonymy, irony, hyperbole, pun. We find literal and figurative language is used to make imagery, the patterns of represented objects, feelings, and ideas we find in poems. We speak of literal and figurative language; the former expresses the ordinary sense or actual denotation of the word or words, and the latter expresses an unusual sense or use for expressive purposes, beauty, vividness, ect. So to call a woman a rose is a figurative use of the word rose (and to give her roses . . .), the two become identified by close association.

In the photograph above, which I found on the Internet, and I don't remember where, it appears someone has literally carved the "dream" of love and home into this woman's back. What does the image suggest figuratively? A tentative response: anguish, we bleed for these, for love, true connection, a happy and safe home. Inwardly and outwardly our thoughts and efforts, whoever we are, resonate with people the world over, however they identify–black, white, brown, yellow, gay, transgender, aged and ill, heterosexual, young, vibrantly healthy–what have you.

The image reminds me of Allan Ginsberg and all the outcasts and rejects of society, including those who struggle for self-acceptance and inclusion and love and respect–or benign tolerance, at the least. Identity politics. The face and body we present, the voice we use, our sexuality, work, lifestyle– we make of ourselves what we can in the pure endeavor to fulfill what calls to us. Often our "differences" put us in conflict with others, and we suffer. Sometimes, too, a collective fight ensues and the culture must change to accommodate the "differences" inherent in people the world over, natural variations of race, color, creed, gender, sexuality, and age.

-------------

Sex Without Love by Sharon Olds

How do they do it, the ones who make love

without love? Beautiful as dancers,

gliding over each other like ice-skaters

over the ice, fingers hooked

inside each other's bodies, faces

red as steak, wine, wet as the

children at birth whose mothers are going to

give them away. How do they come to the

come to the come to the God come to the

still waters, and not love

the one who came there with them, light

rising slowly as steam off their joined

skin? These are the true religious,

the purists, the pros, the ones who will not

accept a false Messiah, love the

priest instead of the God. They do not

mistake the lover for their own pleasure,

they are like great runners: they know they are alone

with the road surface, the cold, the wind,

the fit of their shoes, their over-all cardio-

vascular health—just factors, like the partner

in the bed, and not the truth, which is the

single body alone in the universe

against its own best time.

Desire by Stephen Dobyns

A woman in my class wrote that she is sick

of men wanting her body and when she reads

her poem out loud the other women all nod

and even some of the men lower their eyes

and look abashed as if ready to unscrew

their cocks and pound down their own dumb heads

with these innocent sausages of flesh, and none

would think of confessing his hunger

or admit how desire can ring like a constant

low note in the brain or grant how the sight

of a beautiful woman can make him groan

on those first spring days when the parkas

have been packed away and the bodies are staring

at the bodies and the eyes stare at the ground;

and there was a man I knew who even at ninety

swore that his desire had never diminished.

Is this simply the wish to procreate, the world

telling the cock to eat faster, while the cock

yearns for that moment when it forgets its loneliness

and the world flares up in an explosion of light?

Why have men been taught to feel ashamed

of their desire, as if each were a criminal

out on parole, a desperado with a long record

of muggings, rapes, such conduct as excludes

each one from all but the worst company,

and never to be trusted, no never to be trusted?

Why must men pretend to be indifferent as if each

were a happy eunuch engaged in spiritual thoughts?

But it's the glances that I like, the quick ones,

the unguarded ones, like a hand snatching a pie

from a window ledge and the feet pounding away;

eyes fastening on a leg, a breast, the curve

of a buttock, as the pulse takes an extra thunk

and the cock, that toothless worm, stirs in its sleep,

and fat possibility swaggers into the world

like a big spender entering a bar. And sometimes

the woman glances back. Oh, to disappear

in a tangle of fabric and flesh as the cock

sniffs out its little cave, and the body hungers

for closure, for the completion of the circle,

as if each of us were born only half a body

and we spend our lives searching for the rest.

What good does it do to deny desire, to chain

the cock to the leg and scrawl a black X

across its bald head, to hold out a hand

for each passing woman to slap? Better

to be bad and unrepentant, better to celebrate

each difference, not to be cruel or gluttonous

or overbearing, but full of hope and self-forgiving.

The flesh yearns to converse with other flesh.

Each pore loves to linger over its particular story.

Let these seconds not be full of self-recrimination

and apology. What is desire but the wish for some

relief from the self, the prisoner let out

into a small square of sunlight with a single

red flower and a bird crossing the sky, to lean back

against the bricks with the legs outstretched,

to feel the sun warming the brow, before returning

to one's mortal cage, steel doors slamming

in the cell block, steel bolts sliding shut?

--------------Two Sonnets

To the Evening Star by William Blake (1757-1827)

Thou fair-hair'd angel of the evening,

Now, whilst the sun rests on the mountains, light

Thy bright torch of love; thy radiant crown

Put on, and smile upon our evening bed!

Smile on our loves, and while thou drawest the

Blue curtains of the sky, scatter thy silver dew

On every flower that shuts its sweet eyes

In timely sleep. Let thy west wind sleep on

The lake; speak silence with thy glimmering eyes,

And wash the dusk with silver. Soon, full soon,

Dost thou withdraw; then the wolf rages wide,

And the lion glares thro' the dun forest:

The fleeces of our flocks are cover'd with

Thy sacred dew: protect them with thine influence.

And the Stars by Robinson Jeffers (1887-1962)

Perhaps you did not know how bright last night,

Especially above your seaside door,

Was all the marvelous starlit sky, and wore

White harmonies of very shining light.

Perhaps you did not want to seek the sight

Of that remembered rapture any more.–

But then at least you must have heard the shore

Roar with reverberant voices thro' the night.

Those stars were lit with longing of my own,

And the ocean's moan was full of my own pain.

Yet doubtless it was well for both of us

You did not come, but left me there alone.

I hardly ought to see you much again;

And stars, we know, are often dangerous.

Literature is filled with stories and poems about our quest for love in one or another of its forms. We will spend some time looking at them in the coming weeks.

----------------- Week 11 your recitations and final projects are due. There will also be a short in-class essay final to write that day. Rest and eat well.
At Harper's you may read an excellent little piece by an accomplished American poet named Tony Hoagland on why poetry matters and the 20 he offers as instructive. You may find one to write on if you have yet to settle on subject matter for one or another writing: http://harpers.org/blog/2013/04/twenty-little-poems-that-could-save-america/3/

The following poem and song has folk roots going back to slave times in America, and the work of abolitionists like John Brown, whose siege of the federal arsonal in support of a slave insurrection at Harper's Ferry, for which he was tried and executed, gave impetus to the American Civil War. It is an excellent piece for recitation! You can hear it sung on youtube.

Battle Hymn of the Republic by Julia Ward Howe (1819-1910)

Mine eyes have seen the glory of the coming of the lord:  

He is trampling out the vintage where the grapes of wrath

are stored; 

He hath loosed his fateful lightning of His terrible swift

sword: 

His truth is marching on.   

I have seen Him in the watch fires of a hundred circling

camps; 

They have builded Him an altar in the e evening dews and

Damp;,

I can read his righteous sentence by the dim and flaring

Lamps. 

His day is marching on.   

I have read a fiery Gospel, writ in burnished rows of steel:

"As ye deal with My contemners, so with you My grace shall

Deal;" 

Let the Hero born of woman ,crush the serpent with His

heel, 

Since God is marching on.

He has sounded forth the trumpet that shall never call

retreat; 

He is sifting out the hearts of men before His judgment

seat, 

Oh, be swift, my soul, to answer Him! Be jubilant, my feet, 

Our God is marching on.

In the beauty of the lilies Christ was born across the sea,

With a glory in his bosom that transfigures you and me;

As he died to make men holy, let us die to make men free,

While God is marching on.

Lit Summer 2014

Monday, September 15, 2014

Week 10

Monday, September 1, 2014

Week 8