Author: julie g.

It seemed to me that Spiegelman was making a parallel between 911 and the Holocaust. From the beginning he talks about “paranoid Arab Americans blaming it all on the Jews,” compares the air in lower Manhattan to the air in Auschwitz, and all the villains speak in mock German accents. He relates his patriotism to Kristallnacht and the feelings of the Jews in NAZI occupied Germany, saying, “I finally understand why some Jews didn’t leave Berlin right after Kristallnacht” (4).  The mouse head that continually pops up throughout the pages looks a lot like the character in the comic book, Maus. Unfortunately, I have not read the book, but I do know that the Jews are mice and the Americans are dogs (see lower right hand corner of page 8). So how, here, is Spiegelman a victim…? Or is the mouse head just a symbol that he is speaking from his Jewish lens?

While I think 911 was a horrendous tragedy, I’m not sure that I would agree that it is a parallel to the Holocaust. In WWII the victims were oppressed and then systematically exterminated by a fascist regime. In 911 the fascist regime (at least according to what Spiegelman seems to be purporting) is the one who is attacked. It is not the same. Or is Spiegelman saying that the Bush administration is parallel to the NAZI party and that our country’s prejudice and ulterior motive for going to war creates the dichotomy? If so, then how does 911 fit in and why does the death here remind him of Auschwitz? The only rational connection I can make is that the use of fear is the same. The Germans (or, more aptly, the Nazis) created a fear within their citizens that the depressed state of their country was due, in part, to the Jews. And then they managed to wage war on the oppressed based on propaganda. America (or, more aptly…you get it) has taken undirected fear of an Armageddon and purposefully directed it at the Arabs as a scapegoat for our breach in security…among other problems.

While I can agree with the last parallel, I still don’t think comparing 911 to the Holocaust is a justified analogy and I dislike the connotation.

Finally, I think that Spiegelman lays a lot of blame in this book…it seems to subvert his message since he seems to be advocating that blame is one of the causes of the problem.

Juliet, I’m not sure I agree with your assessment of women in Fight Club. Yes, Marla seems to be an extremely weak character who lets herself be dumped upon and blamed by Tyler. Yes, she tries to commit suicide, in the very least as a “cry for help.” I would agree that she is weak. That she is a pawn in Tyler’s game. But I don’t think she is necessarily positioned as the “enemy” in this film. For sure she is Tyler’s enemy. Marla knows too much and therefore becomes a threat to Tyler’s and Project Mayhem’s society. These are the men who are so afraid of being nothing, nobodies, that they must go about reclaiming their power through violence and ego-boosting machismo. She is their enemy, but not Jack’s (Joe’s). Tyler, in the end, becomes the enemy from whom Jack needs to separate. She, like the space monkeys and Jack, represents a figure who is pulled in by Tyler’s power, the fascism of American consumerism, propaganda, and all that America stands for. She is dumped upon by Tyler, loved and then left, like society is by consumer culture and mass media. Tyler uses her and then leaves her for Jack to pick up the pieces. I’m not sure Palahnuik is blaming her, but rather is saying that she is also a victim…perhaps (and I’m just pontificating here) she knows the disillusionment the men are going through because she has gone through it as well…?

I think further proof that Marla is not the enemy is the fact that Jack (who I would argue can be separated from Tyler for these purposes although they are the same person) does not see her as a threat. Jack must “hit bottom” and stand up to his demons, namely: Tyler. In the end he finally does and takes on responsibility for his own actions. The point where he begins to diverge from Tyler’s path is when Marla is at stake (as Edward Norton says, quite insightfully I think, in his commentary on the movie).

Marla also does not fall prey to the same ambition that the men do. She is disillusioned just as Jack, but she deals with it in a different way. She shuns popular culture and the material world the same as Jack, she visits the nearly dying in order to feel relief and she is trying to hit bottom. All reactions of the humans who have lost all faith in this novel/movie. The one difference is that she is drawn to the power, but she does not try to reclaim it. Maybe because she never had it as a woman or because she has lost all hope that she will ever have the power. Marla is drawn to the power, but does not believe she can have it, which is why she loves things that were loved for a short while and then dumped an hour or a day later (like her bridesmaid dress). Marla is like the dress. She is dumped upon in relationship with Tyler. This is a woman’s role in society.

Ahh. I have seven pages of notes and I still don’t know what to post at this point. Here are a few topics I have listed to discuss: Faith, the multiple Franks, Destruction, Jim Cunningham, Roberta Sparrow, Sex, Smurfs and Rabbits.

Rabbits:

Why are we the bunnies? After they watch Watership Down in English class, Karen (the teacher) says, “We are the rabbits.” I’ve never read Watership Down, but a quick glance at the sparknotes synopsis tells you that it’s about rabbits “in search of a home” and the main character is a rabbit who can tell good from bad. Donnie, in a way, is also searching for a home. As Julie posted, he is an outsider who doesn’t really know where he belongs. This is true in the Primary Universe, but he also has to decide whether his place is in the Primary Universe or the Tangent Universe, and not until he shoots Frank does Donnie realize his destiny. An even more convincing reason to believe that “we are the rabbits” is when Donnie sees the rabbit as he’s looking through the mirror. Literally, Donnie is the rabbit, at least according to his reflection.(This also brings to mind the rabbit in Alice in Wonderland. Like Donnie, Alice is continually following the rabbit and wanting to go home.)

Destruction:

It seems to me like Donnie says it all in the beginning when responding to his teacher’s question about “The Destructors”: “Destruction is a form of creation…they just want to see what happens when they tear the world apart.” There are many forms of creation in this movie. Donnie goes on a destructive streak and “creates” chaos through his destruction. He mentions that he burned down an old house before the start of the movie, he floods the school and he burns down Jim Cunningham’s house. Now, he tells Gretchen, he paints and writes in order to suppress the urge to create through his destruction. Donnie is also always concerned with sex, and sex (I guess) can be seen as a form of creation…at least at its most basic purpose. They do call it “procreation.” When he’s talking about the smurfs and how they have no sexual organs, Donnie says disdainfully, “What’s the point of living if you don’t have a dick?” Maybe he’s really saying, what’s the point of the living if you cannot create? What that means in context with the story I’m not quite sure. Perhaps this whole Tangent world is just a creation of Donnie’s imagination. He falls asleep right before it all happens. In fact, the story—or at least the tangent universe—begins and ends with Donnie in his bed. This is also somewhat similar to Alice in Wonderland. This theory also fits in with what Josh posted, that the entire story is basically a boy’s ultimate fantasy. Perhaps it really is.  

Unanswered questions:

Why are there so many Franks? Frankie Feeler, the boy who was “doomed” like Donnie and died before the prom. Frank who is “destroyed by fear.” Frank, the man behind the bunny suit.

Why does Donnie have to kill Frank in the end for everything to be okay? Why does that “ensure” his (and humankind’s) fate?

My favorite quote from this book: “For most peole there are only two places in the world. Where they live and their TV set” (66).

The one thing I noticed first in White Noise is the obsession with death, although I don’t think I need to prove that this book is about death and fear. All of this fear seems to be instilled by the media and culture around Gladney and his family. It reminds me of that documentary by Michael Moore…the first one, Bowling for Columbine. I haven’t seen the whole thing, but there’s a part in it that talks about how we become violent and fearful as a society because of the tactics of the media. Just look at what we see on the news…rarely is a happy story broadcast as the headliner. Everything causes cancer or heart disease or sudden infant death or clogs your arteries. This is evident in White Noise when the train crashes right outside Blacksmith. The whole family is listening on the news to reports of what has happened and what they should expect. At first it’s just a “plume” of smoke, and then it becomes “a black billowing cloud” and then a “cloud of deadly chemicals,” each instilling more fear into the Gladney family. And with each report the newscasters come up with new and more terrible symptoms of breathing in the deadly cloud. When they say sweaty palms, Denise and Jessie have sweaty palms. When people are supposed to be vomiting, so do the girls. I see a parallel to this in my own life. My roommate is a constant worrier and health nut. We had to replace perfectly new pots and pans because they were Teflon and “could potentially cause cancer.” There was a report that eating too much tuna or seafood can cause reproductive problems in women of childbearing age, so my roommate will only eat tuna or salmon once a month. She scoffs when I put Splenda or Nutrasweet in my coffee because, well, you know the story about laboratory rats. I feel like I had the same conversation with my mother that Denise and Babette had about sugar-free gum (except I was the one being chastised). There is fear here and it is all coming directly from the media in one way or another. And these facts could be completely true…but I think DeLillo brings up the point that our whole world is based on facts, or misinterpreted facts. What do we really know about what we’re being told? All we know is that the media is constantly barraging us with fear and death and distaster. People can’t believe it when the news isn’t there for the plane crash or the chemical leak. The man at the Boy Scout camp wants validation for his fear. He asks, “Isn’t fear news?”

I was also struck by how relevant this books still is. DeLillo mentions events that relate to our current events. His son, Heinrich, is excited by death and the sensationalism. He reminded me a bit of the Columbine shooters…and Jack even mentions long trench coats when speaking to Heinrich about death. Before they evacuate their house, Jack refuses to leave because fleeing is only for poor people. Sounded like Hurricane Katrina to me. Some other people also mentioned the plane crash that sounds a lot like our recent crash. I can’t remember the other allusions, but there were more that I picked up on. I would say it’s prophetic, but really I think we’ve been heading this way for quite some time.

Just as a precursor, I don’t really know where I’m going with this…

When perusing the Pax and Hejirascope I found myself torn between feeling the need to realize the “genius” of this new form of “text” or “literature” and wanting to click on the x in the top right hand corner. It’s not that I didn’t enjoy them…I found them interesting, I just couldn’t enjoy them for the “literature” they provided. Like some other people have posted, I enjoyed Pax more, but that was because of the flying naked (and extremely anatomically correct) figures on the screen. I found it hard to turn my eyes away from the people to read the text. I wasn’t sure which character it was until I looked closely and if I chose to look at the people then I missed what each character said as he/she said it and then I didn’t know if I wanted to click on him/her again. In the end I just watched the people for the full ten minutes and then read the text at the end. Sure, the text could be viewed as “poetic” (and some of it really was) but it could also just be random. Monkeys typing on a typewriter will eventually type Shakespeare. Eventually I might come up with something of value.  Ok, it’s not that random since in the introduction Moulthrop mentions that there are certain techniques to try as you “read” (click on just one person, click on a few and rotate their thoughts, click on people at random).  I do agree with Sigfrid and others, though, that Pax had a timeline to its journey and there might be what some consider a plot with the darkening of the screen and the changing facial features of the different characters.

Pax also reminded me of one of those Choose Your Own Adventure books (someone might have already posted about this). There are a specific number of outcomes which are most likely eventually finite, but each person reading gets to create his/her own text while reading and there are many difference outcomes from which to choose. But don’t mistake that you are choosing them, not creating them, because they are already created or simulated beforehand.

I did note, however, that the impermanence and subjectivity of these texts related to my reading of Baudriallard. The literature of Pax and Hejirascope is never actually written down and there is no order to them. So when you play the game you are duplicating an “original” that has no original, that never actually existed.  The images of the people are representative of the “real” but I think they also hide the fact that there is nothing really there. Someone else noted that the people have names and look “alive,” but they don’t really have a back story and are not having those thoughts.

And I’m actually going to stop talking about Baudriallard now because, while I believe I understood many aspects of this article, I was left confused about others…especially the part about Watergate. Anyone want to fill me in?

The idea of truth, or lack there of, is one of the central themes I encountered while reading. There are so many ways in which Hagedorn eludes giving the truth, the whole truth. First of all, the way she narrates the novel seems schizophrenic because she is constantly changing narrators as well as point of view. Not only do the characters change, but they switch from first to third person. This made it hard for me to be able to trust my judgment of each character because I was constantly getting different opinions and facts from many different sources. At times I couldn’t stand Legazpi (which I think was the point). He was an arrogant, perverted pedophile who was almost crazy at times. But when I would get his point of view it was easier to see his passion for his work and his struggle to be a good man. I had the same problem with Moody and even Fritz. I think the problem is that Hagedorn doesn’t leave them as flat villains, but instead creates an entire world for them. Maybe we (Westerners?) are supposed to relate to him yet be disgusted by him (and ourselves?) at the same time?

There were also many truths left unsolved within the plot. Was the Taobo tribe really “discovered” by Legazpi or was it all a hoax set up by the government? The name of the tribe itself is unclear. Is it “Taobo” or “Tao Po”? This part where we see Legazpi has purposely changed the name is juxtaposed with an excerpt from Magellan’s expedition where they change the names of the islands they visit. What is the truth of these names? Is the name its original title or the one Westerners have imposed upon it? The story within a story about Vietnam also adds to the lack of truth. Pierce himself says that there are so many sides to the war and that’s why he wanted to make it into a film. It was unclear who was “right” and who was “wrong.” Is it a coincidence that a book written in 2004 depicts both ancient explorers and Vietnam? Is she saying something about power and control?

I like Kira’s post about the distancing of ourselves from our ancestors. The fact that the narrative was also intertwined with excerpts from Magellan’s expedition seems to point to the fact that we cannot escape this cultural barbarism. That, in fact, our entire existence in Western culture is based upon these sorts of expeditions and taking advantage of native peoples around the globe. Look at the way the rich (Legazpi, Fritz, Pierce, and even Moody) treat the poor natives. Those in power got there by exploiting the native and tribal communities. Legazpi is a Spaniard and is not a native of the Phillipines—yet he is like a king in their society. The Himal people are subordinates in his house and he even keeps a “wild” Taobo boy as his pet. Pierce, a typical rich American, drives around in limos and leaves a sick Phillipino stranded in the jungle. Fritz, not totally Phillipino, makes money off of the Taobo tribe in the guise of help. It doesn’t seem like just an ugly past. Perhaps Hagedorn is pointing out that what we subsist on is people like Rizalina and that we shouldn’t ignore it or try to escape from it.

I’m not sure what to write here. I almost wish we had read something written more recently because I’d be interested to know what critics, or Benjamin, have to say about the new computer age we’ve approached. An article on mass production, while still hugely applicable today, seems passé next to discussion on computer animation and graphics where one can question whether the art ever existed, much less had an “aura.” Anyway…

It seems elitist of Benjamin to say that “real” art “invites the spectator to contemplation” (238). That only true art is “think-y” art and that film doesn’t allow the viewers to think what they want to think: ergo, film is lesser art. Ok, I think most critics would agree that there are different levels of art and contemplative art generally fits on that higher plane. However, Benjamin dismisses all film from this category and doesn’t acknowledge that there are different levels of film just as there are different levels of paintings. He does bring up a good point that “the masses seek distraction whereas art demands concentration from the spectator” (239). But look at Spielberg vs. (insert artsy director…I don’t really know any by name). Dude Where’s My Car vs. Memento. Benjamin asserts that the “cult value” of art is lost in film; however, I argue that the cult values are still evident in the movie industry. There will always be “Indie” flicks shown only at the Sundance Film Festival that are done for the sake of art or some higher form. (Created for the critics instead of the spirits?)

A simple response, yes, but I was really annoyed at the one-sided view Benjamin gave. He criticizes the “absent-minded” public and seems to assert that the creators of film purposefully manipulate their art in order “to mobilize the masses” instead of making art for art’s sake (240). He also says that the more the public likes a piece the “greater the decrease in the social significance” (234). In other words, if the public likes it then it’s not art. Haven’t critics been saying this about art since the beginning of time? (Actually, he does make reference to this, so maybe I am missing something here.) I wonder if Benjamin would still hold the same point of view today or if  he is just critiquing something new and different.

Thought this might interest you all…two of the books on our syllabus are listed here.

http://www.time.com/time/2005/100books/?cnn=yes

Here’s what I’m wondering. Is it possible that Jeannine, Joanna, Jael, and Janet are all the same person? I don’t mean the same genetic material living on different worlds in different times. I mean, is there only ONE of her and the rest (or all) are schizophrenic creations of an oppressed mind? Yes, I realize that they all have their own stories and it doesn’t seem like they would mesh well into one brain in one time period. But here’s my theory: Joanna (I’ll use her for the sake of argument; it could really be any of them I guess) is a woman living in 1969 under the patriarchal values of a capitalistic, technology-driven society. She goes to parties where men spout misogynistic rhetoric at her and call her a “prude” for not putting out. Her “doctor….lawyer…janitor…president…manager…etc.” are all male. Her brother (keep in mind they’re all the same person) tells her that she should marry anyone, it doesn’t matter who. She is called “bitchy, castrating, unattractive, neurotic, etc.” when she expresses her opinion. She is expected to sit idly by while a man she does not like nuzzles her ear and gropes her. She is sexually harassed. She is raped and feels massive guilt because rape is what females live with and what males “get away with.” Couldn’t living in this world drive anyone crazy? Perhaps that is what Russ is trying to tell us. Joanna (or Jeannine or Janet or Jael) creates alternate selves to deal with each different reality that she encounters. Jeannine is the “feminine” one who DOES want marriage and children, but is confused. Jael HINTS at being there from the beginning, but doesn’t show up until the end where she is depicted as a warrior who kills men and uses them for their bodies. Is that what the rape victim in Joanna wants to do to males? Janet is the only semi-happy character and she lives on a planet where none of this is possible. Is this the escapist in Joanna? Are all of these separate, yet equally important urges within the same person? And because of these different urges did the subject have to split into different personalities to cope?

 

The part I feel where it is most evident of a multiple personality is when Janet sleeps with Laura Rose. The narrator says she is there in “spirit,” but lives among the rafters. If it is multiple personalities then this scene almost seems as if Joanna has an out-of-body experience while watching herself do something that is “wrong”—such as lesbian sex.

Well, there you have it. It’s not too well-thought out, but just a suspicion I was harboring while reading the book. I don’t know…it seems like an interesting episode of Law and Order: SVU (not that I put the TV and novel on the same level)or a companion to Fight Club. Feel free to tell me I’m wrong…

Near the end of the movie, Teddy tells Lenny to “start investigating [himself].” Teddy says, “You don’t even know who you are.” How do we know who we are except through our memories? Lenny says that he can “read people.” That he is able to tell what a person is like or what he is thinking simply by looking into his eyes. But do you really ever know a person? Do you really ever know yourself?

 

I know that I was born in Roanoke, Virginia and that when I was ten I broke my arm on a swing set. I know that the color of my living room furniture is blue and that when I touch a working oven it will feel hot. As Lenny says, “There are things you know for sure.” But those are just facts. Lenny knows what Teddy and Natalie look like, what their names and license plates numbers are. But it’s up to Lenny to interpret the facts and that changes things a bit. Because he has no memory (or chooses not to, which is another debate entirely), Lenny put these clues together based on nothingness and comes up with answers that don’t really mean anything. He is lead astray by his false assumptions much like we are many times lead astray by our own false memories. After all, “memory is unreliable” and “can be distorted…it can change the shape of a room or the color of a car.” Whether we consciously change reality or unconsciously “forget” facts, we are always using a skewed version of “reality” to judge and make assumptions about our own life and others. The fact that Lenny kills John G. on the basis of a false memory (or a “lie to make himself happy”) makes this point even more clear as it suggests that we can never be sure of what we think we know.

 

Again, that raises the question of whether we even really know ourselves. If we can’t trust our own memories then how do we know that we are who we think we are? Are we who we were in the past or are we who we are right now? Lenny’s identity is not solid; it continues to change throughout the movie. He is a man with brain damage, a supposed murderer, a mental hospital patient (thanks to John for pointing out that ½ second blip). He is constantly getting tattoos and therefore changing his physical appearance. He changes into a drug dealer’s clothes in order to take on the identity of a dead man rather than that of a murderer. But “nothing ever sticks” to Lenny, just like his memory.  He has to rely on others to tell him who he is since he can’t remember. At one point Lenny says, “We all need mirrors to remind ourselves of who we really are.” But is a reflection all we need…doesn’t that just show us how others view us?  Lenny says he has “to believe in a world outside [his] own mind.” Maybe this means that it is hard for us to trust our own judgments since a part of us always recognizes the imperfections in memory. Perhaps we have to believe that the “world outside” holds truths that we fail to piece together in our own minds.

I, too, noticed that this book in written in an interesting tense. It’s present tense for all characters in all times unless they are thinking in the present about a past event. Not only is it written in present tense, but it also seems to follow no linear timeline in relating events. Well, that’s not true, Lila Mae’s basic story line is followed mostly chronologically; however, there are still many interruptions from the past (Lila Mae’s college years, Otis’ invention of the elevator, Fulton’s early life).  Because he writes in present tense, Whitehead seems to make all the plotlines converge into one single point in time.

There is a fragmented feel to this narrative not only because of the breaking up of the basic plotline, but also because Whitehead actually communicates through a lot of fragments instead of complete sentences. A bit choppy, but also more like train of thought than more classic narratives.  I wonder if it goes along with the fact that Whitehead does not name the city nor does he seem to give any of the smaller characters significant traits. Is he trying to suggest through his lack of detail and present tense narrative that this could happen anywhere at any time? That although it seems like it only happened in the past (or when this story takes place…60’s??) it is, in fact, still present tense?

This leads me to my second point, which stems from the scene in which Lila Mae is taking her first “Intuitionist” college course. Their discussion over theoretical elevators and the “phantom passenger” seemed to imply that the elevator stands for race relations in the United States. The intuitionists purport that unless someone is waiting for the elevator, or expecting it, it is not really there at all. In other words, race (and therefore prejudice?) is only in our minds. We are deceived by our senses into a false sense of reality—believing that identity lies in appearances. A prime example of this, of course, would be Fulton and the fact that no one realizes they are worshipping the philosophy of a “colored” man. And does it matter what race he is (in our reality or the book’s)? The empiricist in the class, however, believes that “just because you can’t see it doesn’t mean it’s not there” (102).  I’m not sure if this means that he’s insisting race is inherent OR if this means that just because in today’s society we don’t always see overt racial tensions doesn’t mean it doesn’t still exist in American life.  The elevator itself is often referred to as a coffin leaving earth and heading towards heaven. I’m not sure what this means yet…that the hope for equality is futile? This also brings to mind the “glass ceiling” that minorites (in this case blacks and women) are said to face in the work place. Maybe that’s really obvious and you’ve already figured that out though…

On another note, I really enjoyed/was irritated by Whitehead’s style of writing. He had an interesting (yet sometimes aggravating) way of repeating words and phrases within one sentence. For example, “It has rained too long, the city slept in mercury light for too long” where he repeats “too long” at the end of the sentence (163).  I would be inclined to simply dismiss this; however, he does this quite often. Perhaps the ups and downs of an elevator’s repetitious path? I don’t know if this is for effect or if it’s just his writing style. He also mentions “teeth” a lot. Am still not sure if that is pertinent.

According to Hassan’s table in Harvey’s article, modernist theory centers around the mind and being as a whole while postmodernism embraces schizophrenia and coexisting realities. That’s why Orr and Dr. Haber can never create the utopia they seem to be trying for and can never set the world right. Why, in the end, when Haber works alone to try and place his vision of a perfect world on the universe, the present becomes schizophrenic because there can never be one, perfect answer for all. Why Orr keeps misunderstanding the phrases told him through hypnosis because, as the Harvey article says, there is more than one meaning and interpretation to every word, just as there is more than one reality to every life. Reality or truth, then, seems to be relative in the postmodern scheme of things. For citizens in Orr’s world, their reality is whatever Orr’s latest dream has conjured up. For Orr, reality consists of multiple realities and effective dreams. The interesting thing is that the backdrop always looks like it stays the same (same geography, president, basic makeup of things) which seems to suggest that while we all live in the same world with the same basic elements, our realities can still be drastically different.

Within the different truths Le Guin tries to come up with an answer to how we are to survive in a pluralistic world. Because of her apparent Taoist belief (I really know very little about Taoism, I’m just taking it from previous posts) it seems that Le Guin’s answer to the question McHale poses in the Harvey article, “Which world is this? What is to be done with it?” is to become one with society and accept that we are not alone? That we are all a part of each other, as the aliens, in some way, are a part of Orr, and that to survive in this world we must live plurally…It doesn’t matter what world we exist in, there is no truth for a singular being. We just have to “get by with a little help from our friends.” In fact, Dr. Haber is the only person with no friends, family, or loved ones and in the end feels so lonely that he wants to enter the crowds running from the alien attack.

I do think, then, that postmodernism is indeed a break from modernist thought and theory. From what I gather from the Harvey article about modernism is that there is one reality, one meaning that encompasses the whole of humanity. One “singular reality” that can speak for all society. The question “Who am I?” is an existential search leading from the singular past to the omnipresent future where subjects question their existence as a singular being in an ambiguous world that does, however, contain a definite past. Postmodernism, on the other hand, refuses to accept a “singular reality” and instead, “realities may coexist, collide, and interpenetrate” changing the “Who am I?” to a different meaning of “Who am I now, today?” It is different from modernism in that there are so many selves and so many realities that one conclusion cannot be reached since in a pluralistic society, there are many truths.

P.S. Karen is sorry that she cannot share her thoughts with you on this blog. It seems to have a mind of its own and decided to eat Karen’s post.

I think it’s appropriate that Pynchon made his main character Oedipa, for a woman seems to be the most alienated in this postmodern society. Capitalistic Postmodern American society seems to need expansion and commodities in the same way Inverarity feels “the need to possess, to alter the land” (148). The men in Lot 49 are scientists, capitalist, attorneys, etc. while women are left to attend Tupperware parties and be sexual objects. Oedipa may be the novel’s only strong female character; however, this is only because she is the protagonist. A list of the women in the novel goes as such: Oedipa, a married, adulterous woman. Francesca, incestuous and almost oedipal (coincidence?). Serge’s girlfriend, a 15-year-old who ran off with an aging Metzger. The women at The Scope, twined about Fallopian’s body like whores. Grace Bortz, a mother who can’t seem to control her children. All of the above are either sexual conquests or mother-figures since there is no place for them in society and they, like Oedipa, would be alienated if they tried for more. After all, American society is only concerned with reproduction, right?

It seems that Oedipa’s only power over the men in the novel is her sexuality. She is repeated referred to as Inverarity’s mistress, strips for Metzger in order to get the “truth” out of him, and when she can be no help to Nefestis and his demon, his immediate response is sexual intercourse. When posing as “Arnold Snarb” in The Greek Way (which, by the way, also contains no women as it is a gay bar), Oedipa finds that a sect of society does not even want her for sex…the man she meets has no need for her either mentally or sexually.

So what are we to learn from this? Well, Oedipa’s struggle to find herself in a society that seems to only have a superficial use for her may represent the alienated and lost individual in a society where mass production and “more” or mucho maas (Much more) is valued over singularity or individualism. Also, it may be commenting on the fact that, as sex becomes less and less of a taboo in postmodern culture, women themselves are becoming a commodity.

Right now I feel as if I’m making a bit of a stretch. I feel I need more time to flesh out my thoughts, but alas I only finished reading today (having felt the same road blocks as Karen).

On a final note: I have Two questions.
1. I was actually going to write something similar (although not quite so eloquent) as Julie/Jules’ post about the nature of Trystero and the “muted horn” until I was too late and she got there first…One thing I’d like to add though is that I feel it’s ironic that Pynchon has the characters in his novel place their letters of dissent in a trashcan labled “WASTE.” Is it a waste, this search for the truth? Is it a waste to dissent? Are we all going to be taken, like it or not, by mainstream society (or, as Julie/Jules puts it, “Whole Foods Culture”)?
2. Is Trystero mainstream? Trystero itself seems to mutate and change throughout history in order to meet its needs in each new society. Perhaps it represents the oppression of the revolution in each society that is systematically dominated at each step by the more conservative sect? The more powerful agents?