In class, we have talked a lot about interpreting what we see of the real world as described by Jack. His views and style of description are certainly not normal, and sometimes leave us guessing as to what could really be going on. The core disconnect here is, I think, that Jack is essentially unable to put himself in the perspective of others. This is, perhaps, something that every five-year-old is prone to, but Jack's specific situation likely exacerbates it.
There are many examples of Jack simply not being able to empathize with others. Much of the time, he is simply unable to understand the actions and reactions of others--for instance, his frequent bafflement at the rules of "politeness" and "manners" in the real world. In some cases, though it sounds rather harsh, I feel that if Jack were simply to put some thought into things, he would understand them much better. It is, however, quite likely that a large component of Jack's lack of empathy could be due to simply lacking the correct life experiences to be able to relate to others on any meaningful level. From looking at this idea in a vacuum, it would seem that the person Jack would most be able to relate to would be Ma. And, to an extent, this is true. But there are still core disconnects between their perspectives that Jack makes little effort to bridge, even though I feel that he could.
When Jack expresses a desire to revisit Room towards the end of the book, his insistence really hurts Ma. At one point she says something along the lines of "If you would just think of someone besides yourself for one moment..." And that is, I think, one of the core problems that Jack has. He is very selfish. I suppose that most children are like this to one extent or another, but even if they are it just goes to show how being raised in a completely different environment results in the same attitude, perhaps indicating a core aspect of human nature.
Ma does not understand why Jack would want to go back to Room, even though it makes perfect sense from Jack's perspective. Jack does not understand why Ma doesn't want to go back to Room. Of the two perspectives, Ma's is the only one that is reasonable and based on an accurate assessment of the world--but Jack is unwilling or unable to consider the situation from Ma's perspective and realize why Room was not a good place to be.
If this selfishness is a common trait among children, it again just shows how it is an innate trait independent, or at least less dependent, of environment. This is the kind of experiment that behavioral scientists would love to be able to perform, but are unable to because of ethical concerns. On the other hand, if this self-centeredness is more or less unique to Jack, it shows a distinctly unheroic aspect of Jack's character: his either refusal or inability to "walk a mile in the shoes" of another.
Friday, December 16, 2016
Friday, December 2, 2016
Merry Christmas
Little kids believe in Santa. Not always, and if they do, not because of any inherent belief, but because of their parents telling them about him. Parents lie to their children about this, and the children believe them because they don't know any better. Studies have shown that when the children inevitably find out or are told that "Santa Claus" is actually Mommy and Daddy, they experience a diminishing in trust for their parents that can last for years.
Obviously, the situation being undergone by Ma and Jack is nothing like normal circumstances, but Ma especially attempts to maintain a semblance of normalcy. In everyday life, if not in some of their stranger rituals, it seems almost like a normal mother and child going through a normal day. And, just like other parents, Ma lies a lot to Jack. She lies to make their situations seem normal.
This next part can read like a bad conspiracy theory, so bear with me. Old Nick is, in some ways, a twisted, cruel mockery of a "normal" childhood experience--that of Santa and the "benevolent" deception by your parents. Besides the superficial similarity between their names--Old Nick and Saint Nick--there are several parallels that highlight the strange and horrible situation that Jack and Ma are in.
We don't actually know whether Ma and Jack celebrate anything like Christmas in Room, but there are certainly bits of present-giving within the narrative. First of all, Old Nick is the one who supplies Ma and Jack with everything they need. This is highlighted by Jack's query as to why they don't give thanks to Old Nick rather than Baby Jesus. In addition, however, Old Nick does get Jack an RC car for his birthday, a rather Santa-like gesture in its own way.
Most significantly, however, Old Nick, like Santa in a normal childhood, is something that parents lie to their children about "for their own good." Where Santa is no more than a cute lie to give Christmas time a magical quality, Ma's lies about Old Nick conceal his monstrosity from Jack until Ma thinks he is "ready." Just as it is debatable whether the myth of Santa is any good, it is also dubious whether knowing all there is to know about Old Nick and Jack's situation is good or bad for Jack. Ma concludes in the end that Jack should know, and tells him. In a normal household, on the other hand, around five is usually the time in which the child is most convinced of Santa's existence.
Lastly, in a twist that would be almost comical if it weren't absolutely horrible, both Old Nick and Saint Nick turn out to be the child's parents--or at least father.
Obviously, the situation being undergone by Ma and Jack is nothing like normal circumstances, but Ma especially attempts to maintain a semblance of normalcy. In everyday life, if not in some of their stranger rituals, it seems almost like a normal mother and child going through a normal day. And, just like other parents, Ma lies a lot to Jack. She lies to make their situations seem normal.
This next part can read like a bad conspiracy theory, so bear with me. Old Nick is, in some ways, a twisted, cruel mockery of a "normal" childhood experience--that of Santa and the "benevolent" deception by your parents. Besides the superficial similarity between their names--Old Nick and Saint Nick--there are several parallels that highlight the strange and horrible situation that Jack and Ma are in.
We don't actually know whether Ma and Jack celebrate anything like Christmas in Room, but there are certainly bits of present-giving within the narrative. First of all, Old Nick is the one who supplies Ma and Jack with everything they need. This is highlighted by Jack's query as to why they don't give thanks to Old Nick rather than Baby Jesus. In addition, however, Old Nick does get Jack an RC car for his birthday, a rather Santa-like gesture in its own way.
Most significantly, however, Old Nick, like Santa in a normal childhood, is something that parents lie to their children about "for their own good." Where Santa is no more than a cute lie to give Christmas time a magical quality, Ma's lies about Old Nick conceal his monstrosity from Jack until Ma thinks he is "ready." Just as it is debatable whether the myth of Santa is any good, it is also dubious whether knowing all there is to know about Old Nick and Jack's situation is good or bad for Jack. Ma concludes in the end that Jack should know, and tells him. In a normal household, on the other hand, around five is usually the time in which the child is most convinced of Santa's existence.
Lastly, in a twist that would be almost comical if it weren't absolutely horrible, both Old Nick and Saint Nick turn out to be the child's parents--or at least father.
Saturday, November 12, 2016
A Thousand Words
The path of "the hero's journey" and the path of a coming-of-age story are often heavily related and intertwined. In some ways, it could be said that all coming-of-ages are, in and of themselves, hero's journeys, although the reverse is likely not true. I would say that Persepolis absolutely falls under both categories. The protagonist is literally coming of age in it, and she is meanwhile dealing with a world that is heavily fraught with peril where formerly it was not.
However, there is one stark difference between Persepolis and every other book we have read and will read this semester. It is, of course, a graphic novel. So the questions must be asked: why did Satrapi choose this format, how does this format serve the story, and how does it differ from a standard, text-only format?
I will begin with probably the easiest question to answer: how is it different? The answer seems pretty obvious - rather than relying on words to convey an image to us, it conveys the image directly through simple black and white drawings. But more than that, and tying into the other two questions, this format both eliminates the need for lengthy exposition and explanation and more quickly evokes emotions from readers. Rather than having to explain what a veil looks like, and the difference between fundamentalist and modern men and women, Satrapi simply shows us. Rather than explaining the emotions and perils in the book, Satrapi expertly uses the expression afforded by her simple art style to convey fear, sadness, and happiness, among many other emotions.
From the above, the answer to the second question is likely rather clear already. Graphic storytelling allows Satrapi to condense the novel, letting her better convey emotions, which I feel is the main driver of her book. The art style and lack of heavy narration is far more fitting to a child's point of view on the world.
As to why Satrapi chose to write her life story as a graphic novel, I think it is mostly because it is told from the point of view of a child, and that format fits that perspective a little better. Where a text format would have to explain things that a child would not be able to understand, we can simply see the situation and understand what is really happening while simultaneously seeing that Marji does not understand. Where a picture is worth a thousand words, pages of pictures are worth more than a novel of words.
However, there is one stark difference between Persepolis and every other book we have read and will read this semester. It is, of course, a graphic novel. So the questions must be asked: why did Satrapi choose this format, how does this format serve the story, and how does it differ from a standard, text-only format?
I will begin with probably the easiest question to answer: how is it different? The answer seems pretty obvious - rather than relying on words to convey an image to us, it conveys the image directly through simple black and white drawings. But more than that, and tying into the other two questions, this format both eliminates the need for lengthy exposition and explanation and more quickly evokes emotions from readers. Rather than having to explain what a veil looks like, and the difference between fundamentalist and modern men and women, Satrapi simply shows us. Rather than explaining the emotions and perils in the book, Satrapi expertly uses the expression afforded by her simple art style to convey fear, sadness, and happiness, among many other emotions.
From the above, the answer to the second question is likely rather clear already. Graphic storytelling allows Satrapi to condense the novel, letting her better convey emotions, which I feel is the main driver of her book. The art style and lack of heavy narration is far more fitting to a child's point of view on the world.
As to why Satrapi chose to write her life story as a graphic novel, I think it is mostly because it is told from the point of view of a child, and that format fits that perspective a little better. Where a text format would have to explain things that a child would not be able to understand, we can simply see the situation and understand what is really happening while simultaneously seeing that Marji does not understand. Where a picture is worth a thousand words, pages of pictures are worth more than a novel of words.
Monday, November 7, 2016
The Paul Paradigm
In a previous blog post of mine, I talked about how,
sometimes, I feel that a lot of the things that are said about books in
English classes are just reading way too much into the book and what the
author intended. I recently had an interesting conversation about this
with some classmates and some non-classmates, specifically dealing with
A Lesson Before Dying and especially Paul.
First of all, allow me to say that much of what I usually say about the supposed "classics" we read in English classes does not apply here. The reason for this is simple: A Lesson Before Dying is by far the best book I have ever read for any class in school, and is quite high on the list of my all-time favorite books.
With that out of the way, the conversation between myself and three other students (who shall remain unnamed) was a debate of sorts. The two sides mainly argued were whether the parallels between the deputy sheriff Paul and the apostle Paul were superficial coincidences, or intended and deliberately included by Gaines.
On the one hand, it is likely possible to take any fictional character and find however many connections to historical figures, biblical figures, or whatever else. It could just be a coincidence that these parallels appear, and a character is just a character, nothing more. I often complain of too much being read into a story, finding deep and hidden meanings where, really, none exist. Of course, I often have this complaint of books that I read for English classes. I wouldn't like to think that just because I like a book I start seeing connections and metaphors where there really shouldn't be any.
However, in this case I really do think that the connections between the deputy sheriff Paul and the apostle Paul are real and significant. I think that it would be far too much of a coincidence for an enemy of the main character who is then more or less "converted," and who holds a position of power before and after his conversion to also be named Paul, just as Jesus's enemy and then ally in the Bible. In this case, I think it would be far stranger if, in fact, the characters had nothing to do with each other, as that would be a genuinely scary amount of coincidence.
In addition, I think that it is important to note just how important Paul's "conversion" is. This is someone who, in all likelihood, could be the sheriff of Bayonne at some point in the future, and this series of events has destroyed much of his prejudice towards the blacks in his community. Just as Paul became instrumental to the spread of Christianity after Jesus's death, so Paul could become a huge part of progress in his community in the future.
First of all, allow me to say that much of what I usually say about the supposed "classics" we read in English classes does not apply here. The reason for this is simple: A Lesson Before Dying is by far the best book I have ever read for any class in school, and is quite high on the list of my all-time favorite books.
With that out of the way, the conversation between myself and three other students (who shall remain unnamed) was a debate of sorts. The two sides mainly argued were whether the parallels between the deputy sheriff Paul and the apostle Paul were superficial coincidences, or intended and deliberately included by Gaines.
On the one hand, it is likely possible to take any fictional character and find however many connections to historical figures, biblical figures, or whatever else. It could just be a coincidence that these parallels appear, and a character is just a character, nothing more. I often complain of too much being read into a story, finding deep and hidden meanings where, really, none exist. Of course, I often have this complaint of books that I read for English classes. I wouldn't like to think that just because I like a book I start seeing connections and metaphors where there really shouldn't be any.
However, in this case I really do think that the connections between the deputy sheriff Paul and the apostle Paul are real and significant. I think that it would be far too much of a coincidence for an enemy of the main character who is then more or less "converted," and who holds a position of power before and after his conversion to also be named Paul, just as Jesus's enemy and then ally in the Bible. In this case, I think it would be far stranger if, in fact, the characters had nothing to do with each other, as that would be a genuinely scary amount of coincidence.
In addition, I think that it is important to note just how important Paul's "conversion" is. This is someone who, in all likelihood, could be the sheriff of Bayonne at some point in the future, and this series of events has destroyed much of his prejudice towards the blacks in his community. Just as Paul became instrumental to the spread of Christianity after Jesus's death, so Paul could become a huge part of progress in his community in the future.
Saturday, October 15, 2016
Poor, Crazy, Darl
Darl is one of the few characters in As I Lay Dying that we the students seemed to actually like. For a long time, many of us considered him the "hero" of the story, and disdained the rest of his family (well, okay, mostly just Anse). He was in many spots the closest thing we had to a true, omniscient narrator, in that he gave us a lot of backstory on scenes and events he couldn't possibly be privy to. His mysteriousness as well as his clarity to us, the readers, made him an easy character to like.
But now, we get to the end of the novel. As it turns out, pretty much everyone lost a lot to get here. Addie's dead, one of Cash's legs is ruined, Jewel lost his horse and some skin on his back, Dewey Dell is still pregnant and now has no way to stop being pregnant, and Vardaman didn't get his train. Oh, and Darl is in either a prison or an insane asylum.
It seems like the only person to come out on top is Anse. He got one wife in the ground, a new one in his house, and a new set of chompers for his mouth. He kind of screwed over the entire rest of his family to get there, but he did get there.
And perhaps the person who was most screwed over by all this is, indeed, Darl. Whether he is in prison for arson or an asylum for being insane (or both) I think he's in for a pretty miserable life. His family seemed to think that this might be the best for him, but if I'm correct about criminal justice/mental healthcare during this time period, things are not looking good for Darl.
But Darl being demonstrably insane brings an interesting facet into our, the readers, view. If Darl is crazy, can we trust anything that he has narrated? A lot (maybe even all) of what he's narrated has been via his seeming omniscience, and the possibility must be considered that all of that was merely hallucinations. Much what he relayed to us did seem to be corroborated by other characters' accounts, but for the rest we just assumed it was accurate. Then again, perhaps Darl is deemed crazy because of his all-seeing-ness. Maybe everything he "saw" and narrated was accurate, and maybe he saw a little too much.
When you look back at much of Darl's dialogue, it is a little creepy, maybe even sinister. When he discusses whether he is, or he are, or if he was is then he cannot be was with Vardaman, he certainly seems crazy. But then when he talks, again to Vardaman, about "hearing" Addie through the coffin, and the whole deal with her "facing" a certain way, that is a little more unnerving. That, coupled with his laughter, do make him seem extremely crazy once you set aside reader biases.
Darl is one creepy dude, but whether he'll be better off in the pokey rather than with his family I cannot say. The story ends, and therefore so does Darl's existence - kind of. He's still there, in our minds, as we wonder what will happen to this psychic, this channeller of the dead, this weird, creepy dude that we once thought could be the hero of this story.
But now, we get to the end of the novel. As it turns out, pretty much everyone lost a lot to get here. Addie's dead, one of Cash's legs is ruined, Jewel lost his horse and some skin on his back, Dewey Dell is still pregnant and now has no way to stop being pregnant, and Vardaman didn't get his train. Oh, and Darl is in either a prison or an insane asylum.
It seems like the only person to come out on top is Anse. He got one wife in the ground, a new one in his house, and a new set of chompers for his mouth. He kind of screwed over the entire rest of his family to get there, but he did get there.
And perhaps the person who was most screwed over by all this is, indeed, Darl. Whether he is in prison for arson or an asylum for being insane (or both) I think he's in for a pretty miserable life. His family seemed to think that this might be the best for him, but if I'm correct about criminal justice/mental healthcare during this time period, things are not looking good for Darl.
But Darl being demonstrably insane brings an interesting facet into our, the readers, view. If Darl is crazy, can we trust anything that he has narrated? A lot (maybe even all) of what he's narrated has been via his seeming omniscience, and the possibility must be considered that all of that was merely hallucinations. Much what he relayed to us did seem to be corroborated by other characters' accounts, but for the rest we just assumed it was accurate. Then again, perhaps Darl is deemed crazy because of his all-seeing-ness. Maybe everything he "saw" and narrated was accurate, and maybe he saw a little too much.
When you look back at much of Darl's dialogue, it is a little creepy, maybe even sinister. When he discusses whether he is, or he are, or if he was is then he cannot be was with Vardaman, he certainly seems crazy. But then when he talks, again to Vardaman, about "hearing" Addie through the coffin, and the whole deal with her "facing" a certain way, that is a little more unnerving. That, coupled with his laughter, do make him seem extremely crazy once you set aside reader biases.
Darl is one creepy dude, but whether he'll be better off in the pokey rather than with his family I cannot say. The story ends, and therefore so does Darl's existence - kind of. He's still there, in our minds, as we wonder what will happen to this psychic, this channeller of the dead, this weird, creepy dude that we once thought could be the hero of this story.
Saturday, October 1, 2016
You Can't Handle (the Lack of) the Truth
Well, we're almost halfway through As I Lay Dying, and I'd say about half the class - myself included - have no idea what's going on. With maybe a dozen or more narrators, each with differing styles and conflicting opinions, with none perhaps actually being reliable and impartial, it can get a little confusing. So confusing, that one has to wonder why Faulkner wrote his book in this manner.
Supposedly, Faulkner wrote As I Lay Dying in six weeks, working only between midnight and 4 AM, and he never edited it. And let me say, you can tell. Even if it was the effect he was going for, the continuous spelling errors and odd ways of speaking can make the text hard to simply parse, let alone interpret. Add to that the fact that the plot itself is unclear and has no obvious path, and you've got a perfect storm of confused high-schoolers. I'm not going to get into how this trait is something I see as relatively common among "classic" literature. However, sometimes it does frustrate me that so much of the "burden of understanding" is placed on the reader, and not the author. It can seem as if an author can have their book be a towering edifice of metaphor and deep meaning simply by making it vague and confusing enough that all sorts of explanations can be attached to it. Not that I think that's what's happening with As I Lay Dying.
Anyways, I think that this core vagueness and ability to be interpreted in different ways makes it incredibly difficult to ascribe to any of Faulkner's characters the status of "hero." We talked a lot in class about who we think is the hero of As I Lay Dying, and good points were brought up for multiple characters. And maybe all those characters are/are going to be heroes, and maybe none of them. It really depends on how you want to see the book. You could see it as an unfortunate, bereft husband toiling to fulfill his dead wife's last request, or a young woman's struggle with herself and the baby growing inside her, or even a budding psychic beginning to come into his powers. Or all of these things and more.
Perspective is important always. It is very important when you are dealing with potentially unreliable narrators. And when you're dealing with dozens of all potentially biased or incorrect narrators, it could become the defining aspect of the story.
Supposedly, Faulkner wrote As I Lay Dying in six weeks, working only between midnight and 4 AM, and he never edited it. And let me say, you can tell. Even if it was the effect he was going for, the continuous spelling errors and odd ways of speaking can make the text hard to simply parse, let alone interpret. Add to that the fact that the plot itself is unclear and has no obvious path, and you've got a perfect storm of confused high-schoolers. I'm not going to get into how this trait is something I see as relatively common among "classic" literature. However, sometimes it does frustrate me that so much of the "burden of understanding" is placed on the reader, and not the author. It can seem as if an author can have their book be a towering edifice of metaphor and deep meaning simply by making it vague and confusing enough that all sorts of explanations can be attached to it. Not that I think that's what's happening with As I Lay Dying.
Anyways, I think that this core vagueness and ability to be interpreted in different ways makes it incredibly difficult to ascribe to any of Faulkner's characters the status of "hero." We talked a lot in class about who we think is the hero of As I Lay Dying, and good points were brought up for multiple characters. And maybe all those characters are/are going to be heroes, and maybe none of them. It really depends on how you want to see the book. You could see it as an unfortunate, bereft husband toiling to fulfill his dead wife's last request, or a young woman's struggle with herself and the baby growing inside her, or even a budding psychic beginning to come into his powers. Or all of these things and more.
Perspective is important always. It is very important when you are dealing with potentially unreliable narrators. And when you're dealing with dozens of all potentially biased or incorrect narrators, it could become the defining aspect of the story.
Sunday, September 18, 2016
Villain with a Thousand Faces
Well, we made it. The grand finale, the big finish, the climax of Homer's entire Odyssey. And it's a bunch of unarmed people getting slaughtered inside a locked room.
Okay, they're not ALL unarmed by the end, but it still seems as if Odysseus steps a little out of line towards the end there. Killing in cold blood even those who begged for mercy, torturing Melanthius, and murdering all the "disloyal" women (after he forced them to carry their lovers' bodies out) does not seem especially heroic. It honestly seems more like something the villains of a story would do, or even something out of a horror movie. Even those who get a relatively good death, dying in combat with a weapon in their hand rather than cowering at your attacker's feet, are still cut down ignominiously. For instance, Amphinomous's death is described as glorious, but he is still stabbed from behind by Telemachus as he attempts to engage Odysseus. Those who don't even get that kind of "courtesy," like Antinous, are killed while they are unarmed, perhaps while they're barely aware they are even in danger.
Throughout the entire story, we have been continually preoccupied with perspective. When Odysseus was actually telling the story of his wanderings, we had to take his words with a grain of salt. He clearly was coloring his narrative to make himself look good, and undermine the validity of his opponents. Even now that the poem is again about him, I think there is still a great amount of bias in the telling of the story. Perhaps we need to take a moment to consider the other side of things.
Imagine things from the majority of the suitors' perspectives. Sure, for those ringleaders whose offenses were the most egregious, they couldn't really expect anything better from Odysseus coming home. But those who were already having their doubts, such as Amphinomous, really get kind of screwed over. After the first several deaths, the suitors offer to surrender, return home, and even send tribute back to Odysseus as reparations. But he refuses, and kills even those who beg for mercy. For the serving women he murders, all they did was make the best out of a bad situation, in what was probably a less than fortunate life to begin with.
It's always interesting to consider the perspectives of minor characters in any story, and can even be comedic at times. But in the Odyssey, many of these alternate perspectives give Odysseus an at best entitled and unreasonable appearance, and at worst make him almost the villain of a horror story.
Okay, they're not ALL unarmed by the end, but it still seems as if Odysseus steps a little out of line towards the end there. Killing in cold blood even those who begged for mercy, torturing Melanthius, and murdering all the "disloyal" women (after he forced them to carry their lovers' bodies out) does not seem especially heroic. It honestly seems more like something the villains of a story would do, or even something out of a horror movie. Even those who get a relatively good death, dying in combat with a weapon in their hand rather than cowering at your attacker's feet, are still cut down ignominiously. For instance, Amphinomous's death is described as glorious, but he is still stabbed from behind by Telemachus as he attempts to engage Odysseus. Those who don't even get that kind of "courtesy," like Antinous, are killed while they are unarmed, perhaps while they're barely aware they are even in danger.
Throughout the entire story, we have been continually preoccupied with perspective. When Odysseus was actually telling the story of his wanderings, we had to take his words with a grain of salt. He clearly was coloring his narrative to make himself look good, and undermine the validity of his opponents. Even now that the poem is again about him, I think there is still a great amount of bias in the telling of the story. Perhaps we need to take a moment to consider the other side of things.
Imagine things from the majority of the suitors' perspectives. Sure, for those ringleaders whose offenses were the most egregious, they couldn't really expect anything better from Odysseus coming home. But those who were already having their doubts, such as Amphinomous, really get kind of screwed over. After the first several deaths, the suitors offer to surrender, return home, and even send tribute back to Odysseus as reparations. But he refuses, and kills even those who beg for mercy. For the serving women he murders, all they did was make the best out of a bad situation, in what was probably a less than fortunate life to begin with.
It's always interesting to consider the perspectives of minor characters in any story, and can even be comedic at times. But in the Odyssey, many of these alternate perspectives give Odysseus an at best entitled and unreasonable appearance, and at worst make him almost the villain of a horror story.
Friday, September 2, 2016
Wait and See
In class over the last few days, we repeatedly touched on the question of whether Telemachus was a hero in the literary sense. For the most part, these discussions were premised upon the first five books of the poem being, in essence, a separate story, of which Telemachus would be the hero. Obviously we cannot use evidence from anywhere beyond that as none of us have read that far (you know, probably), but perhaps it would be beneficial or even required to do so. Telemachus's heroism, though a basis is laid for it at the beginning, would have to be affirmed and legitimized by his actions later in the book.
I think that basically everything that Telemachus has done so far is merely part of the call to adventure, and his journey has not yet begun. Athena comprised the greatest portion of the call, and Telemachus went through trying to reject it with his initial reluctance and then his uncertainty in himself later on. However, as yet all he has done is travel around, be treated royally as a guest, and ask people questions. Even more contrary, his questions have all had to do with when/if his father, a proven "hero," will return and take care of things for him. While it is true that he has been becoming more of the prince that he is supposed to be, I would argue that this is still just becoming "ordinary life" for him - this is almost something he should have been doing all along, and will continue to do once life returns to normal.
Rather than his heroism or lack thereof being already proven, I think that what happens in later chapters will truly define the answer to the question of whether Telemachus is a hero or not. If the suitors waiting to ambush him are driven off or defeated by an outside force, if Telemachus simply returns home to await the return of his father, if Odysseus handles the suitors single-handedly, I would call Telemachus's bid at being a hero of his own story over. If, however, Telemachus deals with the ambush himself, if he takes action even before his father's return, if he figures as a player and not merely a spectator after Odysseus's return, then perhaps he is a hero after all.
Interestingly, if Telemachus does what we must do to identify him as hero or mere character, he is probably the latter.
I think that basically everything that Telemachus has done so far is merely part of the call to adventure, and his journey has not yet begun. Athena comprised the greatest portion of the call, and Telemachus went through trying to reject it with his initial reluctance and then his uncertainty in himself later on. However, as yet all he has done is travel around, be treated royally as a guest, and ask people questions. Even more contrary, his questions have all had to do with when/if his father, a proven "hero," will return and take care of things for him. While it is true that he has been becoming more of the prince that he is supposed to be, I would argue that this is still just becoming "ordinary life" for him - this is almost something he should have been doing all along, and will continue to do once life returns to normal.
Rather than his heroism or lack thereof being already proven, I think that what happens in later chapters will truly define the answer to the question of whether Telemachus is a hero or not. If the suitors waiting to ambush him are driven off or defeated by an outside force, if Telemachus simply returns home to await the return of his father, if Odysseus handles the suitors single-handedly, I would call Telemachus's bid at being a hero of his own story over. If, however, Telemachus deals with the ambush himself, if he takes action even before his father's return, if he figures as a player and not merely a spectator after Odysseus's return, then perhaps he is a hero after all.
Interestingly, if Telemachus does what we must do to identify him as hero or mere character, he is probably the latter.
Friday, April 29, 2016
Grant Proposal
Introduction:
The
Rube Goldberg competition is an annual, national competition in which high
school teams compete to build a machine that solves a simple task in as many
steps as possible. At the Engineering
Open House at the University of Illinois at Urbana-Champaign, the regional
qualifiers for this national competition are held each year.
The
University Laboratory High School Rube Goldberg team has existed for 6 years,
and has entered the competition each of those years. Whereas some teams build incredible machines
and run them only two or three times for the competition judges, the Uni High
team focuses on building a machine that is not only awesome, but is also able
to run many, many times through the course of the day. The event is open to the public, and judging
takes up only a small portion of a machine’s time. The Uni High team has always sought to be
able to run the machine for each and
every group of people who are interested in seeing it.
Because
of our very spectator-friendly strategy, the Uni High Rube Goldberg machine has
often been a crowd favorite. In 2015 we
won the People’s Choice award – this was the first year that this award was
offered beyond the standard first, second, and third place. Team members have also been featured and
interviewed by news organizations numerous times.
Needs
Assessment:
Because
of the sheer number of times that our machine runs throughout the day, several
problems develop. First of all,
probability dictates that essentially everything that can go wrong will go
wrong. Because of this, consistency and
reliability are two of the greatest obstacles that we face in readying our
machine. In addition, plain and simple
deterioration of parts and components can cause problems and delays, sometimes
very significant ones if we do not have the necessary repair materials on
hand. Lastly, and contributing to the
other problems, the quality of the materials we use is often quite low. Generally, as a cost saver and generally more
efficient method, we use random bits and pieces that we have lying around to
cobble together as many steps as we can.
Generally we avoid purchasing any non-absolutely-essential supplies, and
sometimes have to alter or abandon plans because of budget issues.
To
solve all of these problems, we would appreciate your considering a grant of
ten thousand (10,000) dollars in order to provide a working budget for our next
Rube Goldberg machine. Access to these
funds would allow us to do several things.
First of all, the quality of materials available to us would
improve. This would lead to an overall improvement
in the effectiveness, durability, and appearance of the machine. It would also open up greater possibilities in
terms of steps themselves, allowing us to consider and implement far more
interesting, appealing steps. The funds
would also allow us to spend far more time fine-tuning the machine, allowing us
to drastically improve the consistency and reliability of our steps. Far fewer mishaps would occur during the
course of our numerous runs, and those that did would be oddities rather than
the norm.
All
of these above things would contribute to us having a greatly improved
machine. Having such a machine at the
competition would be greatly beneficial, not only to us, as builders of the
machine, but also to all spectators. As
stated above, very few teams seek to showcase their machine for every group
that comes along. Again, the event is
open to the public, and one of the largest attending demographics is younger,
elementary and middle school children visiting the Engineering Open House. Having an especially standout machine for
them to see actually run, beyond the still forms of the other machines, greatly
improves their experience and their perception of engineering and the
sciences. Relatedly, having a very good
machine could lead to showings at various local schools, again providing these
children with a hook into STEM. In
addition, winning first or second place at the EOH competition leads to an
invitation to the national competition, which provides yet more opportunities and
avenues for every positive thing mentioned above.
Thursday, April 14, 2016
The Future of Driving
A
global revolution is commencing. For
years, huge corporations have released vast fleets of pollution producing
machines that, as a side effect, also carried people around. I’m talking, of course, about gasoline
powered cars and the companies that sell them.
Cars
are one of the leading causes of global warming. Until recently, almost every car in
commercial, consumer use has been gasoline powered. Both the companies that build these cars and
the companies that provide fuel for them have grown rich and powerful. But now a new company seems to be poised to
grow rich and powerful off products with a single, key difference.
The
idea of an electric car has been around just as long as the idea of a gas
powered car. Gas engines, however,
proved to be cheaper, more powerful, and more efficient than their electric
counterparts – at least when they were first invented in the 19th
century. Since then things have changed
a little.
Tesla
Motors, in 2008, sold their first model: the Tesla Roadster. It was the first fully-electric vehicle in
the United States. Since then, Tesla has
come out with the Model S, the Model X, and, recently, the Model 3. Tesla’s stated goal has been and is to
provide affordable electric cars to the average consumer, and the Model 3 comes
closer than ever to accomplishing this.
With a price tag of 35,000 dollars (before government incentives), the
Model 3 is the cheapest electric car yet.
Since the beginning of order placement, Tesla has been swamped with
orders, so many that they will not be able to fill all of them until 2019.
Is this the beginning
of the end for conventional car companies?
It’s possible. It may not happen
for quite a while, but the world is making a choice. That choice can be most aptly summarized by,
strangely enough, Arnold Schwarzenegger:
“There are two doors. Behind Door Number One is a completely sealed room, with a regular, gasoline-fueled car. Behind Door Number Two is an identical, completely sealed room, with an electric car. Both engines are running full blast.I want you to pick a door to open, and enter the room and shut the door behind you. You have to stay in the room you choose for one hour. You cannot turn off the engine. You do not get a gas mask.I'm guessing you chose the Door Number Two, with the electric car, right? Door number one is a fatal choice - who would ever want to breathe those fumes?This is the choice the world is making right now.”
The world hopefully is making this choice - I for
one think it is the correct one. How long it will be until the
change is completed is another matter entirely - we must hope it isn't too
late. Or, you know, do something to ensure it isn’t too late.
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