Betrayed!

“Mr. Charrington came into the room. The demeanor of the black-uniformed men suddenly became more subdued. Something had also changed in Mr. Charrington’s appearance…It occurred to Winston that for the first time in his life he was looking, with knowledge, at a member of the Thought Police.”

-p 224

I must admit, this little plot twist greatly surprised me. It did not surprise me that the Thought Police eventually caught Winston and Julia. Considering how few pages were left in the novel, it seemed unlikely that enough plot development would occur unless they were arrested. What did surprise me, however, was the fact that Mr. Charrington was the leader of the Thought Police squad. When we were first introduced to Mr. Charrington, I suspected that he would play the role of a spiritual guide and counselor, similar to that presented in a hero cycle. This guess was seemingly affirmed by Charrington’s support of Winston’s purchase of the upper room. This room, I thought, would allow Winston to gain a stronger belief in the humanity that he still held inside him. Instead, Charrington was actually a villain, not a guide. This reversal of expectation reflects one of Orwell’s favorite tools in this novel: like O’Brien, it is Winston’s supposed friends who turn out to be his greatest enemies. In Orwell’s world, Winston learns quickly that he can trust no one.

A Breaking Point (Climax)

“The mask was closing on his face. The wire brushed his cheek. And then—no, it was not relief, only hope, a tiny fragment of hope. Too late, perhaps too late. But he suddenly understood that in the whole world there was just one person to whome he could transfer his punishment—one body that he could thrust between himself and the rats. And he was shouting frantically, over and over:

‘Do it to Julia! Do it to Julia! Not me! Julia! I don’t care what you do to her. Tear her face off, strip her to the bones. Not me! Julia! Not me!’ ”

-p 286

This passage details the climax of Orwell’s 1984. Throughout the novel, Winston has constantly fought with his supposedly unorthodox ideals, beliefs that actually express humanity and a sense of morality. These beliefs fly directly in the face of Party ideals, and Winston tries desperately to hold to his beliefs while hiding them from the Party. As the novel progress, however, it becomes clearer and clearer that such rebellious thoughts simply cannot be kept by a man who expects to live much longer. Yet even when Winston is within the Ministry of Love, Winston still maintains his dwindling beliefs that love, compassion, and humanity are superior to any Party tents. This belief is evident when he breaks down and begins shouting Julia’s name and calling her “his love.” Even when Winston wholeheartedly attempts to lose his beliefs in humanity, he is unable to shake his morals. When he faces the rats, however, his own savage sense of self-preservation takes dominance: he sheds his loyalty to Julia and, in doing so, sheds his hopes in humanity. In this climactic scene, Winston loses the fight to protect his hopes for humanity and effectively succumbs to the inhuman savagery that the Party holds dear.

Nobody Knows... (p 1119 Question 4)

In her play A Raisin in the Sun, Lorraine Hansberry builds dramatic suspense through slightly unconventional methods. Normally, suspense is developed due to an inconsistency between the audience's knowledge of a situation and a character's knowledge of that situation. Suspense occurs because a character is acting upon knowledge that the audience is not privy to, creating intrigue and curiosity from the members of the audience who seek to find out what that unknown knowledge is. However, in A Raisin in the Sun, Hansberry causes the audience to feel suspense for the exact opposite reason.

The suspense in this play resolves around Walter's decision of whether or not to sell their newly purchased house. The audience is held in suspense as they wonder whether Walter will maintain his pride or accept a less fortunate fate. The key to this suspense, however, is that no one else, Walter included, knows which Walter will choose. Indeed, it is not until he mentions his own father and realizes his father's sacrifice that Walter realizes that he "come[s] from people who had a lot of pride" (p 148). Up until that moment, no one knows what Walter will choose, creating an increasingly suspenseful buildup to the plot's climax and denouement.

Thank You, A Promise to Keep Program, for This Blog Post Idea

After finishing Othello, I can't help but think that there was a bit of phoniness in a rather large plot point. Admittedly, I think this was my favorite of Shakespeare's plays which I have thus far read; yet it rather irritated me how fake and shallow Othello's love for Desdemona was portrayed. In the beginning, it seems that Othello is head-over-heels in love with Desdemona and is so happy that he "cannot speak enough of this content./ It stops me here, it is too much of joy" (II.i.191-192). Yet within three days at the most, he has become so jealous that he wants to "tear [Desdemona] all to pieces" (III.iii.432). It could just be me, but a love that can change from "I've never been so happy before" to "I'm gonna kill that woman!" in a matter of a couple days seems rather shallow.

Perhaps Shakespeare only did this because he was under a time constraint (although a five-act play seems like plenty of time to draw out this progression), but it adds another aspect to Othello's flaws. This rapid volte-face indicates the likelihood that Othello's love for Desdemona was not actually love, but infatuation (If you really want to know the differences between love an infatuation, I've got an entire packet from my APTK lesson to offer. No takers? Hmph. Fine then). This infatuation was exacerbated by his paranoia and doubts, leading to insecure jealousy without even open-mindedly hearing Desdemona's defense. Desdemona genuinely loves Othello; he, on the other hand, does not. This disparity between emotions shows that in reality, Othello and Desdemona's marriage was doomed from the start.

This Passage Has No Point

“He was the archivist, and all the archives of the town were in his office. That has nothing to do with the story. Anyway, his office had a green baize door and a big wooden door, and when I went out I left him sitting among the archives that covered all the walls, and I shut both the doors, and as I went out of the building into the street the porter stopped me to brush off my coat.

‘You must have been in a motor-car,’ he said. The back of the collar and the upper part of the shoulders were gray with dust.

‘From Bayonne.’

‘Well, well,’ he said. ‘I knew you were in a motor-car from the way the dust was.’ So I gave him two copper coins.”

-The Sun Also Rises, p 102

That also has nothing to do with the story. Actually, it seems that over half this story has nothing to do with the story. This passage occurs about two-fifths of the way through the novel, yet it is still unclear thus far what the actual conflict is. Hemingway has basically written pages and pages of mundane, mindless descriptions of everyday life with the hope that the quantity of writing might distract the reader from realizing that the quality of the writing is virtually nonexistent. Honestly, I would not complain if Hemingway chose to be overly descriptive if he actually progressed the plot occasionally. He seems to have hinted that whatever happened between Cohn and Brett in San Sebastian will likely cause some sort of conflict later in the novel. Thus far, though, that is all that we have learned concerning the actual plot; the rest of the writing has been consumed by mindless drivel about painfully ordinary events.

Perhaps if it is revealed that this porter who brushed off Jake’s coat outside the archivist’s office with two doors and apparently deserves two copper coins for his guess that Jake was in a motor-car—if you pay attention, he does not receive the coins for the service, but for his guess that Jake was in a car—perhaps if this man turns out to be Robert Cohn’s long-lost biological father, who will finally mend Cohn’s emotional wounds and give him a spine, then this passage will actually have some semblance of meaning. Otherwise, Hemingway is simply wasting space.

Flappers Do Not Make Good Social Workers

“Brett looked at me. ‘I say,’ she said, ‘is Robert Cohn going on this trip?’

‘Yes. Why?’

‘Don’t you think it will be a bit rough on him?’

‘Why should it?’

‘Who do you think I went down to San Sebastian with….I rather thought it would be good for him.’

‘You might take up social service.’”

-The Sun Also Rises, p 89

To be honest, I am not particularly fond of Brett. It seems as though her actions are at least partially well-intended; they are merely misguided. Perhaps some men would enjoy spending a vacation with a beautiful woman and then having to endure interacting with this same woman—and her fiancé—several times after this. Frankly, though, I fail to find such an experience anything but rather awkward.

Considering Cohn’s emotional instability, Brett’s actions seem even more foolish. While others might be able to move on after being with Brett, Cohn will not. His past relationships have been too damaged and flawed for him to be able to simply move on. It appears that this possible strain between Robert and Brett—or maybe between Robert and Mike—will likely be the conflict that Hemingway has yet to include in this novel. Stay tuned to see if Hemingway actually includes a plot!

99 Bottles of Beer on the Wall...

“‘How about Vienna?’

‘Not so good, Jake. Not so good. It seemed better than it was.’

‘How do you mean?’ I was getting glasses and a siphon.

‘Tight, Jake. I was tight.’

‘That’s strange. Better have a drink.’

Bill rubbed his forehead. ‘Remarkable thing,’ he said. ‘Don’t know how it happened. Suddenly it happened.’

‘Last long?’

‘Four days, Jake. Lasted just four days.’”

-The Sun Also Rises, p 77

This passage reminded me of another observation that I have made while reading this novel: it seems that every character in this novel is either drunk or on their way to being drunk. Wherever two or three are gathered, there alcohol is in the midst of them. Now I understand that there is nothing wrong with adults drinking alcohol, and I am not condemning it. What I am noticing, however, is that each person consumes far more than what would be considered safe by today’s standards. Hemingway makes it seem that the bottles and glasses are emptying within minutes of each other. Considering that alcoholic drinks likely were much stronger in 1920s France than in 2010 America, where the alcohol content has likely been weakened for economic and health reasons, the fact that each person is consuming bottle after bottle is rather distressing, especially because none of them seem to have much control over their actions while “tight.”

Perhaps this was just the atmosphere du jour back then, but I have another theory, as well. It seems that Hemingway progresses the plot most when his characters are drunk. Perhaps Hemingway is simply using alcohol as a literary crutch.