Before I go into details, I'd like to say that I love how this story turned out to be positive. I don't see that often in the Nigerian film industry, so this was a plus!
However, this story was quite bland and although it disproved the stereotype, 419ers were mentioned a lot.
I think this story was a lot more location than story. It was just setting and background to me. It starts with a lady in a fight on the "you-beat-me-I-beat-you-bus". That's really what they call it! It's like a greyhound bus and it's really hot and uncomfortable.
Lagos traffic sucks! This is accurately depicted in the story. "All the vehicles on the road attempt to turn at once". But people on the motorcycles or mopeds are the worst. They think they can just wiggle their ways through traffic. In certain parts of the city it's just a free road with a huge lack of any traffic signals or signs. It's crazy! Cabs in the form of buses drive with sliding doors wide open so people can hop on and off whenever they please. Also, the story says that children were in the road selling items. That may be true, but when I went it was just woman around my age or older. And one thing that's always for sale is: "Pure wata! Pure wata!" Hearing the screams of "pure water" is something that me and my sister will never forget as ladies held huge tubs of ice with bottled water inside above their heads. Wow. The smell of Nigeria is coming back to me right now.
Maybe I'm dumb, but after reading it through one time--I still didn't know if the main character was a preacher or not. I love how he wishes he had the preacher "accessories" in times of trouble so that he won't get treated badly, but late her is happy he isn't "wearing [his] Roman collar so [he] won't be automatically waved on" at a traffic stop. Speaking of Nigerian traffic stops--at night, it is best to not stop. My mom got robbed one time.
I love how this story is addressing real societal issues in that region of the world. The government is sapping the Niger Delta of all its resources and refuses to give the citizens of that area any of the monetary funds. "...Niger Delta has more oil wells than flush toilets? The government has connived with foreign oil companies to enslave us". That is why the Niger Delta is one of the most deadliest places to live in Nigeria. The people there have become militants that fight against the government and against oil companies. Up until recently, they have been blowing up gas stations and trying to get the government's attention with other radical ideas. If you go out to the actual delta, they are patrolling their land on the water with high speed boats and guns pointed.
There is a lot of ethnic or tribal nationalism in Nigeria. Being of the Igbo tribe, I find it hilarious that this story tries to make the Yoruba tribe stand out. Obviously, the guy who wrote this has to be Yoruba, because I'm pretty sure everyone who lives in Nigeria knows that Igbo and Yoruba people aren't the best of friends. The Igbo people are the largest group and they weren't even mentioned in the story, but the Hausa's were? My mom would laugh and use some of the dialect they had in the story. (which I loved)
Can I just say I'm excited to go home just so I can have some authentic rice and stew :)
This story gets across a main point in the Nigerian lifestyle that money is everyone's motive. If you have money, you don't want to flaunt it too much, but enough so that people know you have some sort of status. As far as people asking for money, they will do it at all times. I don't want to say the country is corrupt--I feel like that is too harsh because they are trying to change; but, you need money if you ever are put into any difficult situation in that country.
The thoughts of the main character that were italicized--I will always be happy to be a Nigerian. So, I felt disrespected by him thinking that. Oh well, just a story.
Now to the main point--
The whole time he was sure the guy was kidnapping him and had a pistol in his pocket. But when the main character falls sick, he sees that the whole time "the gun" was just a handkerchief. People always assume the worst in others. I try not to do that, so I simply trust no one. haha. I don't know if that's worst. But, the whole time this supposed preacher is cursing the man, his "kidnapper" and damning him to hell. It's just really hard to read people's underlying motives, especially with the world we live in.
Great way to end the semester with a story about my hometown. Can't wait to get back home.
Friday, April 23, 2010
Wednesday, April 21, 2010
The Quest for Death and Photographs.
I'm not sure where to start, so I'll just jump right in.
I don't feel there was much to say about "The Eye" except that it was a weird story.
Financial status, or lack thereof, is shown through what the character wears as seen on page 107 when "The Eye" is described as the only person the narrator saw wearing a tie. It is also addressed on page 109 when referring to the orphan services at the auction when "The highest bidder is almost always the lowest as well".
There was a rumor that "The Eye" was homosexual, and it was just a rumor until one night when he confessed to the narrator that he was indeed homosexual.
With Bolano's simple sentences, the reader finds out that "The Eye" leaves Mexico for Paris and years later so does the narrator.
And as I was typing, I realized how much these stories have in common; so now I'll just compare them by underlying themes of: emigration, search for death, photography, and saying good-bye.
Emigration:
In Bolano's "Mauricio "The Eye" Silva", there is a lot of movement. First The Eye leaves Chile to travel to Buens Aires, "but then the ill winds blowing in the neighboring republic sent him to Mexico" (106). Off to Paris he went, and so did the narrator to find him. Later, the narrator had to go to Berlin where he meets The Eye again. The Eye shares his experiences of when he was in India. When he ultimately ran off with two of the boys, "the rest [of the story] is more an itinerary than a story or plot...First they took a taxi to a town or to its outskirts. Then a bus to another town, where they caught a second bus that took them to yet another town. At some point in their flight they boarded a train and traveled all night and part of the following day" (117). Even more traveling goes on, but you get the picture. In general, people are in search of an ideal living situation. If your current location doesn't match your lifestyle, your goals, or your mindset--then change it. I have always been a dream chaser and when I'm old enough to start moving until I see progress, I will. Sitting in Clemson and your dream is to become some Hollywood megastar will get you NOWHERE. Okay, off of my soapbox.
Bolano's excerpt from The Savage Dectectives incorporates a lot of travel as well. The two main characters are both from "the Southern Cone" of South America. From Paris to Angola and all parts of Liberia, this excerpt is filled with travel.
Search for Death:
The excerpt catches this theme better than "The Eye". Urenda, the narrator, states about Belano: "I got the sense that life meant nothing to him, that he'd taken the job so he could die a picturesque death, a death that was out of the ordinary" (498). Wow. My first thought, why would someone do that? Make your family struggle to bring your body back? or just get dumped on grounds that mean nothing to you? But, what's confusing is the fact that "Belano behaved as if his health were extremely important to him". Urenda was confused to and thought "this man wants to live, there's no way he's planning to die". Page 499 offers a deeper explanation. "He insinuated that he was there to get himself killed, which I suppose isn't the same as being there to kill yourself or to commit suicide, since you aren't taking the trouble to do it yourself, although in the end it's just as disturbing". I don't even know what to think about this. So, I am thinking he wants his life to be over, but not to commit suicide so he still goes to heaven? hahaha. long shot. Later when Urenda comes back, Belano was no longer on his quest for death and could go a few days without taking any pills. A statement that stands out on page 500 is Urenda's description of Belano as healthy..."or that's how he looked to me, anyway, in the middle of so much death. What really gets me is the end of the story when Lobo and Belano are taling and Belano states that he "wanted to die, but [he] realized it was better not to" (516). But after saying this, he still went with Lobo to die with the soldiers because he didn't want Lobo to die alone. I'm not one to judge, but I can't tell if that was being brave or being stupid.
From what I can remember, the search for death is only mentioned one time in "The Eye". "then the disease came to the village and the boys died. I wanted to die too, said The Eye, but I wasn't that lucky" (119). When a person loses all they have, they feel like there is no purpose for them to live anymore. I could understand that feeling.
Photography:
Pictures! Pictures! Pictures!
"Everyone likes to be photographed" (107). I think of that line from The Eye, then I immediately think of the dead Italian that Urenda wanted to take pictures with in the excerpt. I don't think he wanted his picture taken--I'm just saying.
Saying Good-bye:
"The Eye": "I wasn't surprised that he hadn't said good-bye. The Eye never said good-bye to anyone. I never said good-bye to anyone either. None of my Mexican friends ever did. For my mother, however, it was a clear case of bad manners" (109). I'm not quite sure what this means, but I know nowadays if people purposely don't say good-bye, it's because they would rather say see you later or something of that sort. The optimistic bunch. This was vaguely mentioned in the excerpt, but I doubt it had any true meaning.
Other random blurbs...
"The Eye" favorite phrases:
--"I have never hated anyone" (116). I love this. I have been trying to live like this since I got baptized. Great feeling.
--"Not that I had a plan, or any idea of redress, just a blind determination" (116).
--"he wept for his dead children and all the other castrated boys, for his own lost youth, for those who were young no longer and those who died young.."
The Savage Detectives:
..."blackouts usually came at sunset" (502). Very true in Nigeria.
..."a country where life was worth nothing and talk--along with money--was ultimately the key to everything" (501). They say money makes the world go 'round. But wow, life was worth nothing?
..."able to hear something like the glare of the sun on the roof of the car" (507). love the personification!
Also,
**Paris Match is my favorite French magazine!
**who prays to a God they don't believe in? hey, I don't judge. hahaha.
**the embassy is never the safest place in a country.
**and this narrator was annoying. He thought he was better than everyone.
I don't feel there was much to say about "The Eye" except that it was a weird story.
Financial status, or lack thereof, is shown through what the character wears as seen on page 107 when "The Eye" is described as the only person the narrator saw wearing a tie. It is also addressed on page 109 when referring to the orphan services at the auction when "The highest bidder is almost always the lowest as well".
There was a rumor that "The Eye" was homosexual, and it was just a rumor until one night when he confessed to the narrator that he was indeed homosexual.
With Bolano's simple sentences, the reader finds out that "The Eye" leaves Mexico for Paris and years later so does the narrator.
And as I was typing, I realized how much these stories have in common; so now I'll just compare them by underlying themes of: emigration, search for death, photography, and saying good-bye.
Emigration:
In Bolano's "Mauricio "The Eye" Silva", there is a lot of movement. First The Eye leaves Chile to travel to Buens Aires, "but then the ill winds blowing in the neighboring republic sent him to Mexico" (106). Off to Paris he went, and so did the narrator to find him. Later, the narrator had to go to Berlin where he meets The Eye again. The Eye shares his experiences of when he was in India. When he ultimately ran off with two of the boys, "the rest [of the story] is more an itinerary than a story or plot...First they took a taxi to a town or to its outskirts. Then a bus to another town, where they caught a second bus that took them to yet another town. At some point in their flight they boarded a train and traveled all night and part of the following day" (117). Even more traveling goes on, but you get the picture. In general, people are in search of an ideal living situation. If your current location doesn't match your lifestyle, your goals, or your mindset--then change it. I have always been a dream chaser and when I'm old enough to start moving until I see progress, I will. Sitting in Clemson and your dream is to become some Hollywood megastar will get you NOWHERE. Okay, off of my soapbox.
Bolano's excerpt from The Savage Dectectives incorporates a lot of travel as well. The two main characters are both from "the Southern Cone" of South America. From Paris to Angola and all parts of Liberia, this excerpt is filled with travel.
Search for Death:
The excerpt catches this theme better than "The Eye". Urenda, the narrator, states about Belano: "I got the sense that life meant nothing to him, that he'd taken the job so he could die a picturesque death, a death that was out of the ordinary" (498). Wow. My first thought, why would someone do that? Make your family struggle to bring your body back? or just get dumped on grounds that mean nothing to you? But, what's confusing is the fact that "Belano behaved as if his health were extremely important to him". Urenda was confused to and thought "this man wants to live, there's no way he's planning to die". Page 499 offers a deeper explanation. "He insinuated that he was there to get himself killed, which I suppose isn't the same as being there to kill yourself or to commit suicide, since you aren't taking the trouble to do it yourself, although in the end it's just as disturbing". I don't even know what to think about this. So, I am thinking he wants his life to be over, but not to commit suicide so he still goes to heaven? hahaha. long shot. Later when Urenda comes back, Belano was no longer on his quest for death and could go a few days without taking any pills. A statement that stands out on page 500 is Urenda's description of Belano as healthy..."or that's how he looked to me, anyway, in the middle of so much death. What really gets me is the end of the story when Lobo and Belano are taling and Belano states that he "wanted to die, but [he] realized it was better not to" (516). But after saying this, he still went with Lobo to die with the soldiers because he didn't want Lobo to die alone. I'm not one to judge, but I can't tell if that was being brave or being stupid.
From what I can remember, the search for death is only mentioned one time in "The Eye". "then the disease came to the village and the boys died. I wanted to die too, said The Eye, but I wasn't that lucky" (119). When a person loses all they have, they feel like there is no purpose for them to live anymore. I could understand that feeling.
Photography:
Pictures! Pictures! Pictures!
"Everyone likes to be photographed" (107). I think of that line from The Eye, then I immediately think of the dead Italian that Urenda wanted to take pictures with in the excerpt. I don't think he wanted his picture taken--I'm just saying.
Saying Good-bye:
"The Eye": "I wasn't surprised that he hadn't said good-bye. The Eye never said good-bye to anyone. I never said good-bye to anyone either. None of my Mexican friends ever did. For my mother, however, it was a clear case of bad manners" (109). I'm not quite sure what this means, but I know nowadays if people purposely don't say good-bye, it's because they would rather say see you later or something of that sort. The optimistic bunch. This was vaguely mentioned in the excerpt, but I doubt it had any true meaning.
Other random blurbs...
"The Eye" favorite phrases:
--"I have never hated anyone" (116). I love this. I have been trying to live like this since I got baptized. Great feeling.
--"Not that I had a plan, or any idea of redress, just a blind determination" (116).
--"he wept for his dead children and all the other castrated boys, for his own lost youth, for those who were young no longer and those who died young.."
The Savage Detectives:
..."blackouts usually came at sunset" (502). Very true in Nigeria.
..."a country where life was worth nothing and talk--along with money--was ultimately the key to everything" (501). They say money makes the world go 'round. But wow, life was worth nothing?
..."able to hear something like the glare of the sun on the roof of the car" (507). love the personification!
Also,
**Paris Match is my favorite French magazine!
**who prays to a God they don't believe in? hey, I don't judge. hahaha.
**the embassy is never the safest place in a country.
**and this narrator was annoying. He thought he was better than everyone.
Friday, April 16, 2010
Love and Honor and Pity and Pride and Compassion and Sacrifice
I'll start by saying this is my favorite short story of the year!!
Before I get to all of the good stuff, let me say that I'm confused by the time in which this story is taking place because at one point someone tells him to use a typewriter to write his story so he'll be free to delete, but then at the coffee shop an iPod is mentioned. One thing I know for sure is that computers came before the iPod.
Anyway,
Being Nigerian and lacking the basic childhood memories of skating and bike riding, I definitely understand Nam Le's point of view on "the ethnic story". It's so easy to write about what you think you know. But in this story, it is shown that parts of the story may be missing or that not all of the details are known. I am aware of this when my dad tells me of the Biafra War. It's one of those things where you only tell the "good" parts and everything else is left to only those who witnessed it.
I love the father-son relationship in this story. It seems like Le had a rebellious childhood, but he comes to know and love his father. His father arrives in LA early, while the house is still a mess and hits him with a quick Vietnamese proverb about laziness: "A day lived, a sea of knowledge earned". Sounds like something my mother would say. Le states that his father "had a habit of speaking in Vietnamese proverbs. [That he] had long since learned to ignore" (4). I think that's also one of those things where on the surface, you aren't listening, but subconsciously one day he'll say it to one of his peers.
The diction and description in this story are borderline overwhelming, but add great emphasis where needed: "the double-storied houses, their smooth lawns sloping down to the sidewalks like golf greens; elm trees with high, thick branches--the sort of branches from which I imagined fathers suspending long-roped swings for daughters..." (11). But, what could you expect from a story about a writer with a final paper due? Did I mention that Iowa is also in this story? It seems like that's where all the great writer reign. Oh yeah, my favorite word used by this author is "goose-pimpled" on page four. Hahaha.
His relationship with Linda may be strange to the average American. I know that my parents would NEVER want to hear or see me talk about a guy, let alone have a relationship. It's just something you don't do, especially while you are still in school. I've always wondered how it is so easy for some people to just let boyfriends/girlfriends come over to their houses and meet their parents. That's not allowed in my culture, unless you are getting married. I think Linda may have taken offense to this and not completely understood the situation. Le doesn't understand his father that well, I wouldn't expect her too. I could go on for days about this, so I'll stop.
Am I the only one who doesn't like the fact that his father moved to Sydney, Australia while his mother lived in government apartments?
My second favorite paragraph of this work (favorite is the last!) is this one:
"That's all I've ever done, traffic in words. Sometimes I still think about word counts the way a general must think about casualties...When I was working at the law firm, I would have written that many words in a couple of weeks. And they would have been useful to someone" (8). Maybe Le is growing tired or frustrated with writing. I find it difficult to write as well. Sometimes writers just want the words to flow so perfectly that it takes the joy out of writing; after all, Le states "things happened in this world all the time. All I had to do was record them" (8).
The page about "ethnic lit" was hysterical! Loved the Nigerian shout-out! But, ethnic literature is filled with descriptions of food and language that you can't necessarily double check the validity of. But, since the whole point of writing is "not to write what no one else could have written, but to write what only you could have written" (23), I think any culture is worth diving into.
It's funny how people change, yet stay the same. "and I could no longer read his smile. He had perfected it during our separation" (12).
Since we just got off the topic of American Dreams, I decided to share my thoughts on that theme in this story. The Vietnamese immigrants go to the river and see a homeless man standing near a fire. His father tells the man about his son's work and when they leave, he gives the homeless citizen money as he says "welcome to America" while his head is lowered in shame. Wow.
I'm not going to lie. The story within the story was pretty incredible. The details about the bayonet slitting throats and the ace of spades carved into people's bodies were chilling. I love how he compared the story to a eulogy.
"How far does an empty stomach drag you?" (25). That's just a great line that shows that his father doesn't necessarily like the fact that he left being a lawyer to become an author, but he respects his will to continue. And will continue to respect him, but he just wants to see how long he can go on with writing if it doesn't feed him. Another well written line on that page is "I had nothing but hate in me, but I had enough for everyone". That just speaks volumes to me.
Before I comment on the last page, I want to talk about the title. It's a lengthy one, but it's legit. Although nobody every blatantly comes out and says their work is about love, honor, pity, pride, compassion or sacrifice, I believe most works fall into these categories. I'm pretty sure they are all mentioned in this story, but I love the example of pity on page 24. When talking to his father about the story, his father says that he wants pity and he becomes offended. But his dad explains himself, saying "'Only you'll remember. I'll remember. They will read and clap their hands and forget"'.
I had to read this last paragraph twice. I couldn't believe the father went out and burned the story his son had worked so hard on. I don't think that is a good way of dealing with your past. It leaves the reader hanging a bit because there is missing dialogue: "If I had known then what I knew later, I wouldn't have said the things I did" (28). I think their shaky relationship is described best with his realization of "how it took hours, sometimes days, for the surface of a river to freeze over--to hold in its skin the perfect and crystalline world--and how that world could be shattered by a small stone dropped like a single syllable" (28). Wow. After working so hard to get the relationship back on track, one minor incident causes the whole thing to break again. And Le describes that incident in terms of words: a single syllable--those of which are so carelessly thrown around. I loved this story. Perfect!
Before I get to all of the good stuff, let me say that I'm confused by the time in which this story is taking place because at one point someone tells him to use a typewriter to write his story so he'll be free to delete, but then at the coffee shop an iPod is mentioned. One thing I know for sure is that computers came before the iPod.
Anyway,
Being Nigerian and lacking the basic childhood memories of skating and bike riding, I definitely understand Nam Le's point of view on "the ethnic story". It's so easy to write about what you think you know. But in this story, it is shown that parts of the story may be missing or that not all of the details are known. I am aware of this when my dad tells me of the Biafra War. It's one of those things where you only tell the "good" parts and everything else is left to only those who witnessed it.
I love the father-son relationship in this story. It seems like Le had a rebellious childhood, but he comes to know and love his father. His father arrives in LA early, while the house is still a mess and hits him with a quick Vietnamese proverb about laziness: "A day lived, a sea of knowledge earned". Sounds like something my mother would say. Le states that his father "had a habit of speaking in Vietnamese proverbs. [That he] had long since learned to ignore" (4). I think that's also one of those things where on the surface, you aren't listening, but subconsciously one day he'll say it to one of his peers.
The diction and description in this story are borderline overwhelming, but add great emphasis where needed: "the double-storied houses, their smooth lawns sloping down to the sidewalks like golf greens; elm trees with high, thick branches--the sort of branches from which I imagined fathers suspending long-roped swings for daughters..." (11). But, what could you expect from a story about a writer with a final paper due? Did I mention that Iowa is also in this story? It seems like that's where all the great writer reign. Oh yeah, my favorite word used by this author is "goose-pimpled" on page four. Hahaha.
His relationship with Linda may be strange to the average American. I know that my parents would NEVER want to hear or see me talk about a guy, let alone have a relationship. It's just something you don't do, especially while you are still in school. I've always wondered how it is so easy for some people to just let boyfriends/girlfriends come over to their houses and meet their parents. That's not allowed in my culture, unless you are getting married. I think Linda may have taken offense to this and not completely understood the situation. Le doesn't understand his father that well, I wouldn't expect her too. I could go on for days about this, so I'll stop.
Am I the only one who doesn't like the fact that his father moved to Sydney, Australia while his mother lived in government apartments?
My second favorite paragraph of this work (favorite is the last!) is this one:
"That's all I've ever done, traffic in words. Sometimes I still think about word counts the way a general must think about casualties...When I was working at the law firm, I would have written that many words in a couple of weeks. And they would have been useful to someone" (8). Maybe Le is growing tired or frustrated with writing. I find it difficult to write as well. Sometimes writers just want the words to flow so perfectly that it takes the joy out of writing; after all, Le states "things happened in this world all the time. All I had to do was record them" (8).
The page about "ethnic lit" was hysterical! Loved the Nigerian shout-out! But, ethnic literature is filled with descriptions of food and language that you can't necessarily double check the validity of. But, since the whole point of writing is "not to write what no one else could have written, but to write what only you could have written" (23), I think any culture is worth diving into.
It's funny how people change, yet stay the same. "and I could no longer read his smile. He had perfected it during our separation" (12).
Since we just got off the topic of American Dreams, I decided to share my thoughts on that theme in this story. The Vietnamese immigrants go to the river and see a homeless man standing near a fire. His father tells the man about his son's work and when they leave, he gives the homeless citizen money as he says "welcome to America" while his head is lowered in shame. Wow.
I'm not going to lie. The story within the story was pretty incredible. The details about the bayonet slitting throats and the ace of spades carved into people's bodies were chilling. I love how he compared the story to a eulogy.
"How far does an empty stomach drag you?" (25). That's just a great line that shows that his father doesn't necessarily like the fact that he left being a lawyer to become an author, but he respects his will to continue. And will continue to respect him, but he just wants to see how long he can go on with writing if it doesn't feed him. Another well written line on that page is "I had nothing but hate in me, but I had enough for everyone". That just speaks volumes to me.
Before I comment on the last page, I want to talk about the title. It's a lengthy one, but it's legit. Although nobody every blatantly comes out and says their work is about love, honor, pity, pride, compassion or sacrifice, I believe most works fall into these categories. I'm pretty sure they are all mentioned in this story, but I love the example of pity on page 24. When talking to his father about the story, his father says that he wants pity and he becomes offended. But his dad explains himself, saying "'Only you'll remember. I'll remember. They will read and clap their hands and forget"'.
I had to read this last paragraph twice. I couldn't believe the father went out and burned the story his son had worked so hard on. I don't think that is a good way of dealing with your past. It leaves the reader hanging a bit because there is missing dialogue: "If I had known then what I knew later, I wouldn't have said the things I did" (28). I think their shaky relationship is described best with his realization of "how it took hours, sometimes days, for the surface of a river to freeze over--to hold in its skin the perfect and crystalline world--and how that world could be shattered by a small stone dropped like a single syllable" (28). Wow. After working so hard to get the relationship back on track, one minor incident causes the whole thing to break again. And Le describes that incident in terms of words: a single syllable--those of which are so carelessly thrown around. I loved this story. Perfect!
Wednesday, April 14, 2010
Lazurus Project: the ending.
The beginning of this last section is a gruesome telling of what the pogrom was like in what I believe is during Olga's daydreaming--"they ripped out Mr. Mandelbaum's beard" and "I heard his bones breaking" (241) were just a few sentences that left me shaking. Roza sat throughout the first section hungry while Papa stretch[ed] on the floor to reach his yarmulke, as though something depended on it" (242). I love this. Obviously in times of panic or chaos, people reach out to their religion, even if it is something they often keep in the back of their minds. After the raid upon the house was over, Roza picks up the table settings, puts a few items back where they originally were, and seated herself, again hungry. After something like that, "nothing would ever be the way it used to be. It was impossible to remember what it used to be like at all" (245). Olga snaps out of her daydream when Taube calls her name and finally gets her to take the deal of coming to a funeral for her brother.
In present day, Iuliana, the tour guide at the museum, helps Brik and Rora find a ride. This was a very strange ride that I'll comment on later.
"Silence terrified me--whenever I stopped talking, the possibility of never saying anything again was horribly present" (250). Wow. That's scary to live like this. To live in a constant state of fear. After talking about war crimes for a minute with Iuliana, Brik starts talking a little crazy, saying how he wishes he could break some people's kneecaps. Then Iuliana says: "You are strange. I thought you were from America (251). This is a weird statement. Basically, it means that from a foreign point of view, Americans cannot be violent or used to violence, which is false.
Brik asks Iuliana how she feels about the pogrom and then thinks back to when he asked Mary about one of her patients that died. Iuliana, on one hand, says she feels great love for those people; but, Mary, a neurosurgeon that probably sees death everyday, has no real reaction to the question and simply says: "When a patient dies, I feel that he is dead" (252).
I cannot finish the ending of this book without commenting on the relationship between Azra, a surgeon, and her husband. I can't help but think if this somewhat mirrors the future of Brik and Mary. Anyway, Azra's husband had loyalty to the Serbs and when the shooting started he joined his Chetnik brothers to aim and fire at families like his own. I cannot wrap my head around this situation!! This is craziest thing I've read since the first few pages of the novel.
I love how this book talks about common things in not so common ways. The breakdown of how conversing works: "I could not stop listening, and after I listened I had to speak, and so it went on" (253).
Did I mention somewhere in this blog how I didn't like Rora. Here again it has been confirmed. "He paid some of the kids to run back and forth under fire so [someone] could take a perfect picture" (255). These little kids don't know better, but Rora wants to risk their lives in order to have a good picture. Unbelievable. One of my favorite phrases of this sections follows after: "Nobody deserves death, yet everybody gets it. This reminds me of something I saw on a billboard the other day. It read "why do we kill people that kill people to teach people that killing people is wrong?" So true.
In lament terms, the driver is crazy. Brik is having some interrupted thoughts about Lazurus, some random girl is picked up along the way, and the driver is falling asleep. The poor girl, Elena was obviously not taken anywhere by her choice, or maybe she knows where she was going. Brik isn't very sure. But he knows that he shouldn't judge her, that "each life is legitimized by its rightful owner" (260). At this point where Rora taps the driver and he pulls over to the gas station, I get lost. I don't know what was going on. But, I am pretty sure Rora and Brik beat the driver up. But I don't know why they did and with that much force. At the end of that section, it flashes back to when Lazarus just landed in America and the stories continue to become more and more intertwined.
After the funeral where so called Lazarus is buried for the second time, it is written in the paper that Olga says "Let us return to peace now", which I doubt she says. Especially knowing her brother is not at peace because his main organs were not with his body. I feel awful for Olga who is now in a foreign land all by herself. She finally sees that "dusk obscures the shapes of things". At the end of the day, "she will sit at the table, say nothing to no one, let nothing settle all around her like falling snow"(274).
The very last section of the book is great.
"Nobody seemed to remember me" (278) is followed by a phrase that I remember seeing earlier in the novel: "Home is where somebody notices your absence". So obviously he feels like he could call Sarajevo home. But Azra encourages him to stay and marry one of the women from there. She tells him "there is no life for you in America" (281). I realize that near the end of this book, Brik says "That's me" a lot. He sees himself manifested in everything.
The most beautiful thing is when Brik realizes he could never really be there for Mary, because his heart was elsewhere, and then he goes on to mention all the little tidbits about her which is truly love. It's always good when guys know and remember the little things.
And then Rora is killed in broad daylight. It had to happen. He knew way too much. Ironically, as he lay dying a phone kept playing "Staying Alive". Creepy. Seven bullets. The same amount as Lazarus. Summing it up: "sometimes you have non control over life and i keeps you far away from who you love" (288). Wow. Azra knows a lot of information too, but the book finishes too soon with her fixing Brik's hand, saying that he'll need it for writing since he now has been on one hell of a journey.
Starting and ending with a murder?
Great story.
In present day, Iuliana, the tour guide at the museum, helps Brik and Rora find a ride. This was a very strange ride that I'll comment on later.
"Silence terrified me--whenever I stopped talking, the possibility of never saying anything again was horribly present" (250). Wow. That's scary to live like this. To live in a constant state of fear. After talking about war crimes for a minute with Iuliana, Brik starts talking a little crazy, saying how he wishes he could break some people's kneecaps. Then Iuliana says: "You are strange. I thought you were from America (251). This is a weird statement. Basically, it means that from a foreign point of view, Americans cannot be violent or used to violence, which is false.
Brik asks Iuliana how she feels about the pogrom and then thinks back to when he asked Mary about one of her patients that died. Iuliana, on one hand, says she feels great love for those people; but, Mary, a neurosurgeon that probably sees death everyday, has no real reaction to the question and simply says: "When a patient dies, I feel that he is dead" (252).
I cannot finish the ending of this book without commenting on the relationship between Azra, a surgeon, and her husband. I can't help but think if this somewhat mirrors the future of Brik and Mary. Anyway, Azra's husband had loyalty to the Serbs and when the shooting started he joined his Chetnik brothers to aim and fire at families like his own. I cannot wrap my head around this situation!! This is craziest thing I've read since the first few pages of the novel.
I love how this book talks about common things in not so common ways. The breakdown of how conversing works: "I could not stop listening, and after I listened I had to speak, and so it went on" (253).
Did I mention somewhere in this blog how I didn't like Rora. Here again it has been confirmed. "He paid some of the kids to run back and forth under fire so [someone] could take a perfect picture" (255). These little kids don't know better, but Rora wants to risk their lives in order to have a good picture. Unbelievable. One of my favorite phrases of this sections follows after: "Nobody deserves death, yet everybody gets it. This reminds me of something I saw on a billboard the other day. It read "why do we kill people that kill people to teach people that killing people is wrong?" So true.
In lament terms, the driver is crazy. Brik is having some interrupted thoughts about Lazurus, some random girl is picked up along the way, and the driver is falling asleep. The poor girl, Elena was obviously not taken anywhere by her choice, or maybe she knows where she was going. Brik isn't very sure. But he knows that he shouldn't judge her, that "each life is legitimized by its rightful owner" (260). At this point where Rora taps the driver and he pulls over to the gas station, I get lost. I don't know what was going on. But, I am pretty sure Rora and Brik beat the driver up. But I don't know why they did and with that much force. At the end of that section, it flashes back to when Lazarus just landed in America and the stories continue to become more and more intertwined.
After the funeral where so called Lazarus is buried for the second time, it is written in the paper that Olga says "Let us return to peace now", which I doubt she says. Especially knowing her brother is not at peace because his main organs were not with his body. I feel awful for Olga who is now in a foreign land all by herself. She finally sees that "dusk obscures the shapes of things". At the end of the day, "she will sit at the table, say nothing to no one, let nothing settle all around her like falling snow"(274).
The very last section of the book is great.
"Nobody seemed to remember me" (278) is followed by a phrase that I remember seeing earlier in the novel: "Home is where somebody notices your absence". So obviously he feels like he could call Sarajevo home. But Azra encourages him to stay and marry one of the women from there. She tells him "there is no life for you in America" (281). I realize that near the end of this book, Brik says "That's me" a lot. He sees himself manifested in everything.
The most beautiful thing is when Brik realizes he could never really be there for Mary, because his heart was elsewhere, and then he goes on to mention all the little tidbits about her which is truly love. It's always good when guys know and remember the little things.
And then Rora is killed in broad daylight. It had to happen. He knew way too much. Ironically, as he lay dying a phone kept playing "Staying Alive". Creepy. Seven bullets. The same amount as Lazarus. Summing it up: "sometimes you have non control over life and i keeps you far away from who you love" (288). Wow. Azra knows a lot of information too, but the book finishes too soon with her fixing Brik's hand, saying that he'll need it for writing since he now has been on one hell of a journey.
Starting and ending with a murder?
Great story.
Monday, April 12, 2010
Extra Credit?
So, yesterday I went to the library to take a closer look at the Turkish-Jewish exhibit, and it was gone. But in the cases in front of the stairs there was a unity project that had something to do with the Holocaust. So, I'm not really sure how the points will go on this one. There was a big quote that said "I saw masses of people running away, and nothing was chasing them". Below it were pictures of people that were obviously at concentration camps. My favorite pictures were in the middle cases. One was of a soldier helping a little girl put her foot into her shoe, I believe it was Anne Frank. I'm not sure. Then the picture right beside it is the illustration of the phrase "American Dream". Six or seven immigrants look toward the sky with eyes glistening knowing what awaits them in a foreign land. That picture is beautiful--I tried to capture it with my phone.
Tuesday, April 6, 2010
"The few who possess everything and the many who possess nothing." Lazurus Project 87-121
Granted the novel had a great start, but I'm starting to feel a little iffy about it now. I think Rora's influence is majorly affecting Brik. Especially when he told a story that wasn't his at a wedding reception and his wife called him out. He thinks its because he didn't share the story of how they met like the other couples did, but I think she was just calling his bluff from knowing him that well. Anyway, I think the half of the novel that includes Rora and his immoral ways is getting a little long. I'm not a big fan of Rora--he sounds like a bad friend that always wants the spotlight.
In the beginning of this section, I was astounded at the number of bullets that hit Lazurus. I remember all the chaos, but I didn't know all the guns were pointed at him.
Poor Olga. I think she is attempting to write her mother a letter telling her about the death. What's really sad is the part where the narrator says that the mother is still far off wondering about the well-being of her son, not even knowing that he is dead.
Isador, the curly-haired accomplice is in the outhouse, where all the feces go. If Olga had not come out there to think about her brother, what would he have done? I love his reasoning: "Good people had told me to stay away from the law" (93). My thoughts--"good" people should never be in the way of the law. Then the dictionary of which had much sentimental value falls into the feces, after hitting Isador in the face. Maybe this was Isador's way of saying, it was a bad idea to begin with. While Olga was sleeping, I found something quite interesting in that passage. "If I fall asleep and wake up dead, I could be rid of this sickening grief" (95). Waking up dead? That's ironic.
She explains how Lazurus looked in the morgue. Her little brother loooked "so angry in the morgue, so tense, his lips frigid and sharp" (95). I remember back in May of 2001 when I made a trip to the morgue to see my older brother. He looked peaceful, almost about to crack a smile. That's scary now that I think about it. But, he made me want to laugh. Especially wearing this awful yellow Hawaiian looking shirt with blue flowers that my dad picked out to go with Timberland boots. I know my brother is somewhere pissed about that last outfit choice! Oh well, God doesn't judge.
The words read from the dictionary are put into sentence form at the end of page 96, and I tried so hard to interpret it, but I can't. Just words, they probably don't mean anything.
Just a couple things to comment on in the next few pages.
First, Andriy the driver of the Focus doesn't want anyone to wear a seat belt and says "If it is your time to go, it is your time to go" (100). I say "If it's your time to go, Jesus will take you--but don't make him have to hurry, because He's a busy man." Seat belts save lives, and I'm glad Brik put it on the second time he got into the car. With all Rora's stories about casinos and Range Rovers, he was starting to sound, for lack of a better word, sketch! So in their society, it's not hard to believe that "nobody expected the truth" (103). I found a profound statement on pg. 105, something I had never thought about before: "The whole life a dash between the two arbitrary numbers". When someone walks around in a cemetery, you know nothing except when they were born and when they died. The in between lies with their soul and the few names that might have left a message. There is no brief biography, no list of accomplishments. In the end does it all matter? Wow.
I love how Guzik is some little person in a dark room who trades inside stories for cash! Just what this story needed!
I personally didn't think that your comments on religion in class were that racy; but then again you are teaching in Bible Belt central here at CU where everyone who isn't Republican with a Bible in your right hand and American flag in the other stands out. What's wrong with playing devil's advocate or stirring up he crowd? And, I'm glad to hear that another Nigerian will be playing. I have a personal thing against Egyptians and Ethiopians though, most claim they aren't "African". Hahaha.
In the beginning of this section, I was astounded at the number of bullets that hit Lazurus. I remember all the chaos, but I didn't know all the guns were pointed at him.
Poor Olga. I think she is attempting to write her mother a letter telling her about the death. What's really sad is the part where the narrator says that the mother is still far off wondering about the well-being of her son, not even knowing that he is dead.
Isador, the curly-haired accomplice is in the outhouse, where all the feces go. If Olga had not come out there to think about her brother, what would he have done? I love his reasoning: "Good people had told me to stay away from the law" (93). My thoughts--"good" people should never be in the way of the law. Then the dictionary of which had much sentimental value falls into the feces, after hitting Isador in the face. Maybe this was Isador's way of saying, it was a bad idea to begin with. While Olga was sleeping, I found something quite interesting in that passage. "If I fall asleep and wake up dead, I could be rid of this sickening grief" (95). Waking up dead? That's ironic.
She explains how Lazurus looked in the morgue. Her little brother loooked "so angry in the morgue, so tense, his lips frigid and sharp" (95). I remember back in May of 2001 when I made a trip to the morgue to see my older brother. He looked peaceful, almost about to crack a smile. That's scary now that I think about it. But, he made me want to laugh. Especially wearing this awful yellow Hawaiian looking shirt with blue flowers that my dad picked out to go with Timberland boots. I know my brother is somewhere pissed about that last outfit choice! Oh well, God doesn't judge.
The words read from the dictionary are put into sentence form at the end of page 96, and I tried so hard to interpret it, but I can't. Just words, they probably don't mean anything.
Just a couple things to comment on in the next few pages.
First, Andriy the driver of the Focus doesn't want anyone to wear a seat belt and says "If it is your time to go, it is your time to go" (100). I say "If it's your time to go, Jesus will take you--but don't make him have to hurry, because He's a busy man." Seat belts save lives, and I'm glad Brik put it on the second time he got into the car. With all Rora's stories about casinos and Range Rovers, he was starting to sound, for lack of a better word, sketch! So in their society, it's not hard to believe that "nobody expected the truth" (103). I found a profound statement on pg. 105, something I had never thought about before: "The whole life a dash between the two arbitrary numbers". When someone walks around in a cemetery, you know nothing except when they were born and when they died. The in between lies with their soul and the few names that might have left a message. There is no brief biography, no list of accomplishments. In the end does it all matter? Wow.
I love how Guzik is some little person in a dark room who trades inside stories for cash! Just what this story needed!
I personally didn't think that your comments on religion in class were that racy; but then again you are teaching in Bible Belt central here at CU where everyone who isn't Republican with a Bible in your right hand and American flag in the other stands out. What's wrong with playing devil's advocate or stirring up he crowd? And, I'm glad to hear that another Nigerian will be playing. I have a personal thing against Egyptians and Ethiopians though, most claim they aren't "African". Hahaha.
Sunday, April 4, 2010
The Clemson Literary Festival
I definitely looked at the pictures of the authors to decide what readings I would go to. I found out in life that people with wounds or scars have the best stories. Anywho, it didn't matter, because when I went to Friends Cafe on Thursday night there was no order. Oh well.
First up was Blas Falconer reading poems from his book A Question of Gravity and Light. From his stance alone, I knew he was homosexual. To me, this meant wounds. I was excited to hear what he had to say. His style was very subtle and soft spoken, and he wasn't trying to be anything other than himself. The first poem told Native Americans and Spanish conquistadors. My favorite line was "they crossed uncrossable seas". His second poem was probably the best poem I heard all night, even though I only stayed for an hour and a half. It was entitled "A Definiton of Terms" where he begins toying with the words "cruise" and "trick". The poem ends up being about two gay men who are stuck in the airport and randomly have sex. Lines like "we tricked them all" and "I'm too tired to trick and where the hell would we have sex anyway" sent the crowd into laughter. Next was "A Story of Winter", and it was a difficult poem to follow without text. It seemed like it was a poem with a lot of description and had a deep meaning that I just couldn't put my finger on. I asked around, nobody else really knew what was going on either. The fourth poem was "The Battle of Nashville". This is one of the few poems that I could find the text online. It is even more beautiful as I read it for myself. It's a strong poem about unity that starts in the past even covering civil rights. It's about being scared to fight battles alone, but getting a little courage when someone else is beside you. The last line is compelling and truly shows the love for the city: "I think they are afraid. I think this is love". There was another poem about his adopted son--missed the title of it. In a joking matter, Falconer stated that he felt that his poems were more cynical when he became a father. Overall, great work.
Michael Griffith was the second author, and his first words to the audience were: "I'm going to teach you how writing is all about failing". Scars? Yep. He gives a face-paced short synopsis to provide background to what he was going to read. He stated that his novel, Trophy, took place in the span of one second where the protagonist dies under the stuffed grizzly bear in the trophy room of his friend that is dating his lover...or something to that effect. He describes the "law of cliche" where the memory of the protagonist is only the last twenty minutes. I love how his book is over 150 chapters and, that he states that his book is over 300 pages of finding out whose time is being wasted. His writing is consisted of short, choppy sentences and a lot of dialogue. He read from the chapter titled "The Several Faces of Celeste". I believe it's about a mother-son relationship. The mother is just telling her son what is the difference between right and wrong and trying to get him to eat his yams. My favorite line is "racial justice doesn't have a symbol, it wouldn't be right". That's funny stuff. He had the audience laughing the entire time. He had so much energy, especially when he read from the longest chapter of the book, "Pablo the Bible-believing Possum". This chapter reminded me of Clemson! One line referred to showing St. Peter your ticket stub and all will be forgiven. Can anyone say football season? Hahaha. Clemson and their athletics. This chapter read by this slightly eccentric author was funny, but so much was going on! I think there was a group of students in a Christian play or maybe it was a student choir because they had on robes. They were at a baseball game too. And hotdog condiments ended up all over the children's clothing. The funniest part was when a child dropped a spray painted Webster's Dictionary that was made to look like a Bible. Griffith called this "Webster's Third Holy Bible"! Funny! All of this was mixed into homosexual, sexual, and abortion references that may have put some people on the edge. A great line he threw into the mix was: "why couldn't fame like heaven be come as you are"? He was a great speaker, and I thoroughly enjoyed his animated voices.
By this time, it was getting late so I had to go. I plan on making a trip to The Literary Fesival every year, and maybe even buying the works of these authors as well as ones in the future. I had never been to a poetry reading or anything of this nature before, just watched from the comfort of my bed; but this was a great experience!
First up was Blas Falconer reading poems from his book A Question of Gravity and Light. From his stance alone, I knew he was homosexual. To me, this meant wounds. I was excited to hear what he had to say. His style was very subtle and soft spoken, and he wasn't trying to be anything other than himself. The first poem told Native Americans and Spanish conquistadors. My favorite line was "they crossed uncrossable seas". His second poem was probably the best poem I heard all night, even though I only stayed for an hour and a half. It was entitled "A Definiton of Terms" where he begins toying with the words "cruise" and "trick". The poem ends up being about two gay men who are stuck in the airport and randomly have sex. Lines like "we tricked them all" and "I'm too tired to trick and where the hell would we have sex anyway" sent the crowd into laughter. Next was "A Story of Winter", and it was a difficult poem to follow without text. It seemed like it was a poem with a lot of description and had a deep meaning that I just couldn't put my finger on. I asked around, nobody else really knew what was going on either. The fourth poem was "The Battle of Nashville". This is one of the few poems that I could find the text online. It is even more beautiful as I read it for myself. It's a strong poem about unity that starts in the past even covering civil rights. It's about being scared to fight battles alone, but getting a little courage when someone else is beside you. The last line is compelling and truly shows the love for the city: "I think they are afraid. I think this is love". There was another poem about his adopted son--missed the title of it. In a joking matter, Falconer stated that he felt that his poems were more cynical when he became a father. Overall, great work.
Michael Griffith was the second author, and his first words to the audience were: "I'm going to teach you how writing is all about failing". Scars? Yep. He gives a face-paced short synopsis to provide background to what he was going to read. He stated that his novel, Trophy, took place in the span of one second where the protagonist dies under the stuffed grizzly bear in the trophy room of his friend that is dating his lover...or something to that effect. He describes the "law of cliche" where the memory of the protagonist is only the last twenty minutes. I love how his book is over 150 chapters and, that he states that his book is over 300 pages of finding out whose time is being wasted. His writing is consisted of short, choppy sentences and a lot of dialogue. He read from the chapter titled "The Several Faces of Celeste". I believe it's about a mother-son relationship. The mother is just telling her son what is the difference between right and wrong and trying to get him to eat his yams. My favorite line is "racial justice doesn't have a symbol, it wouldn't be right". That's funny stuff. He had the audience laughing the entire time. He had so much energy, especially when he read from the longest chapter of the book, "Pablo the Bible-believing Possum". This chapter reminded me of Clemson! One line referred to showing St. Peter your ticket stub and all will be forgiven. Can anyone say football season? Hahaha. Clemson and their athletics. This chapter read by this slightly eccentric author was funny, but so much was going on! I think there was a group of students in a Christian play or maybe it was a student choir because they had on robes. They were at a baseball game too. And hotdog condiments ended up all over the children's clothing. The funniest part was when a child dropped a spray painted Webster's Dictionary that was made to look like a Bible. Griffith called this "Webster's Third Holy Bible"! Funny! All of this was mixed into homosexual, sexual, and abortion references that may have put some people on the edge. A great line he threw into the mix was: "why couldn't fame like heaven be come as you are"? He was a great speaker, and I thoroughly enjoyed his animated voices.
By this time, it was getting late so I had to go. I plan on making a trip to The Literary Fesival every year, and maybe even buying the works of these authors as well as ones in the future. I had never been to a poetry reading or anything of this nature before, just watched from the comfort of my bed; but this was a great experience!
Thursday, April 1, 2010
The Lazarus Project pgs 1-27
I love novels like The Lazarus Project! Hemon has commanded my attention. If I could write, I would want to present the world with something like this.
In the first chapter or section which remains without a title, but only defined by the bindings of two pictures, Hemon gives the reader a murder situation. Why climax later?! I love it. The set up is magnificant. I wish I could write my research paper on this, oh well. The only things the author knows for certain is that the time and place are accurate. So, from there I know that the whole thing will fall into place and shock me at the end like a crazy movie.
From what I know now, the "young man" referred to in the first section is a Jewish man who was looking for the police chief for reasons still unknown. He comes from the poverty stricken side of town, and he examines his life while visiting the police chief on the wealthier street.
"All the lives I could live, all the people I will never know, never will be, they are everywhere. That is all that the world is" (2). This is so true! One life is all you get. As for everyone else and their house, it's not your business. You will never know the "ins and outs". This spoke to me profoundly. The weather is always something gracious to comment on. It depicts moods and settings of people and places. I feel like with it being a record breaking 86 degrees today in Clemson, that this deserves to go in my blog: "temperatures are falseheartedly rising and maliciously dropping". Maybe not the the point of the weather in Chicago, but I have a feeling that before this book is completed, I will again comment on the undecided mind of this weather.
1908 was the year the murder took place. When lint ridden pockets where pennies should lie still thought there was "serenity of wealth". Now, in 2010 I don't think serenity has much to do with wealth, because many that are with abundant finances are still not living serenely. But, one thing remains constant over the years that one is "always close to the noise and clatter" (3) when in the ghetto.
Literary technique! I love authors that can put together words so wonderfully! I get so jealous of their diction. I wonder if they sit and think about what to throw in or if it just flows naturally: "a roll of butcher paper, like a fat Torah; a small scale in confident equilibrium; a ladder leaning against a shelf, its top up in the dim store heaven" or his repeated use of the word "burly" seen later on page 19. Even the personification of the past: "slapping it heartily on my back" (18).
The relationship between the married store owners is one of survival and codes. It seems as though the Mrs. gives most of the clues: "never trust a hungry man"(6). Wow. I don't know what to think about this. It sounds like it would be stated in a Malthusian way, modern day Andre Bauer. But, at the end of the day they are looking for whats in the best interest of self.
After the chaos of a murder, the man "died without a curse, supplication, or prayer" (9). Dang. That sucks. And to think, his last meal was a sour apple lozenge.
I love the pictures. Just when you think that maybe the next section is about a foggy night in the city, a continuation of the first--he surprises you with a new story. The story outside of the story. And the picture comes from one line you probably won't remember when you keep reading. The uneven heights and widths of the dancing children remind him of the skyline. Ha!
"In my country, we are suspicious of free-flowing air" (12). Maybe, it's because of the war? I don't really understand the whole Bosnia/Austria/Hungary thing. My history professor couldn't even get it through to me. I'm thinking this book might do the trick. But, I'm not as crazy as Susie who must have asked him if he thinks in English. But, I have to remember that this was 1908, but a statement like that would be deemed ignorant nowadays.
"I am complicated" (15). Simply stated, I love it. I feel this way sometimes.
With the emigration and marriage section of the syllabus, I'm surprised to see that this theme hasn't come up earlier in a stronger way--the theme of the man being the breadwinner. He (being the author and not the Jewish man--forgot to mention the pov switch.sorry!) is worried that his neurosurgeon wife will think he is a "slacker or a lazy Eastern European" (17). I hope to see his dreams come to fruition by the end of the novel.
I was astounded by the accuracy with which he described seeing an old friend; but when he mentioned that he "instantly recognized that whatever had connected [them] now nearly entirely dissolved", I laughed. I think that is the funniest, most awkward moment. Because, both parties know that that person is no longer a part of your life. So when all the catching up is done, and you know that their life is going smoothly, that's it. It's not really a "I'll talk to you later" kind of deal. You just simply go back to living your life and be thankful that God gave you a second to reminisce.
The third section where the assistant chief of police comes in and overanalyzes the crime scene is hysterical, because as the reader, I know the lozenges aren't laced with poison and that since the man was a foreigner, the sentences are probably to help him learn English. It's crazy that the assistant police chief thinks he is an anarchist and wants to confirm this by looking at the man's genitals. I would say he is messing with a crime scene, but he's the police. Oh, what people do with power.
I turn the page to see a face that tells me to stop reading, a face that resembles an author I saw today at the literary festival of which I will blog about later.
In the first chapter or section which remains without a title, but only defined by the bindings of two pictures, Hemon gives the reader a murder situation. Why climax later?! I love it. The set up is magnificant. I wish I could write my research paper on this, oh well. The only things the author knows for certain is that the time and place are accurate. So, from there I know that the whole thing will fall into place and shock me at the end like a crazy movie.
From what I know now, the "young man" referred to in the first section is a Jewish man who was looking for the police chief for reasons still unknown. He comes from the poverty stricken side of town, and he examines his life while visiting the police chief on the wealthier street.
"All the lives I could live, all the people I will never know, never will be, they are everywhere. That is all that the world is" (2). This is so true! One life is all you get. As for everyone else and their house, it's not your business. You will never know the "ins and outs". This spoke to me profoundly. The weather is always something gracious to comment on. It depicts moods and settings of people and places. I feel like with it being a record breaking 86 degrees today in Clemson, that this deserves to go in my blog: "temperatures are falseheartedly rising and maliciously dropping". Maybe not the the point of the weather in Chicago, but I have a feeling that before this book is completed, I will again comment on the undecided mind of this weather.
1908 was the year the murder took place. When lint ridden pockets where pennies should lie still thought there was "serenity of wealth". Now, in 2010 I don't think serenity has much to do with wealth, because many that are with abundant finances are still not living serenely. But, one thing remains constant over the years that one is "always close to the noise and clatter" (3) when in the ghetto.
Literary technique! I love authors that can put together words so wonderfully! I get so jealous of their diction. I wonder if they sit and think about what to throw in or if it just flows naturally: "a roll of butcher paper, like a fat Torah; a small scale in confident equilibrium; a ladder leaning against a shelf, its top up in the dim store heaven" or his repeated use of the word "burly" seen later on page 19. Even the personification of the past: "slapping it heartily on my back" (18).
The relationship between the married store owners is one of survival and codes. It seems as though the Mrs. gives most of the clues: "never trust a hungry man"(6). Wow. I don't know what to think about this. It sounds like it would be stated in a Malthusian way, modern day Andre Bauer. But, at the end of the day they are looking for whats in the best interest of self.
After the chaos of a murder, the man "died without a curse, supplication, or prayer" (9). Dang. That sucks. And to think, his last meal was a sour apple lozenge.
I love the pictures. Just when you think that maybe the next section is about a foggy night in the city, a continuation of the first--he surprises you with a new story. The story outside of the story. And the picture comes from one line you probably won't remember when you keep reading. The uneven heights and widths of the dancing children remind him of the skyline. Ha!
"In my country, we are suspicious of free-flowing air" (12). Maybe, it's because of the war? I don't really understand the whole Bosnia/Austria/Hungary thing. My history professor couldn't even get it through to me. I'm thinking this book might do the trick. But, I'm not as crazy as Susie who must have asked him if he thinks in English. But, I have to remember that this was 1908, but a statement like that would be deemed ignorant nowadays.
"I am complicated" (15). Simply stated, I love it. I feel this way sometimes.
With the emigration and marriage section of the syllabus, I'm surprised to see that this theme hasn't come up earlier in a stronger way--the theme of the man being the breadwinner. He (being the author and not the Jewish man--forgot to mention the pov switch.sorry!) is worried that his neurosurgeon wife will think he is a "slacker or a lazy Eastern European" (17). I hope to see his dreams come to fruition by the end of the novel.
I was astounded by the accuracy with which he described seeing an old friend; but when he mentioned that he "instantly recognized that whatever had connected [them] now nearly entirely dissolved", I laughed. I think that is the funniest, most awkward moment. Because, both parties know that that person is no longer a part of your life. So when all the catching up is done, and you know that their life is going smoothly, that's it. It's not really a "I'll talk to you later" kind of deal. You just simply go back to living your life and be thankful that God gave you a second to reminisce.
The third section where the assistant chief of police comes in and overanalyzes the crime scene is hysterical, because as the reader, I know the lozenges aren't laced with poison and that since the man was a foreigner, the sentences are probably to help him learn English. It's crazy that the assistant police chief thinks he is an anarchist and wants to confirm this by looking at the man's genitals. I would say he is messing with a crime scene, but he's the police. Oh, what people do with power.
I turn the page to see a face that tells me to stop reading, a face that resembles an author I saw today at the literary festival of which I will blog about later.
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