Ends Lead to New Beginnings

“I do feel such a bitch” (188)...well, bitch, you are one. I’m sorry, but throughout the book, my opinion/ respect of THE Lady Brett Ashley just diminishes as every chapter passes. So when Brett begins to complain Jake again about how awful her life is, I can’t. I just can’t.

Brett obviously has commitment issues. But she is also one of those people who’s been spoiled her entire life, and hasn’t had to pay the price (which is almost literal as well). She flirts with every man she meets (except Bill, as far as we know), and then when she’s done with them, she gets mad when they care (eg. Cohn). “I hate him, too...I hate his damned suffering” (186). Brett hates it that Cohn is madly in love with her, and that it pains him to think that they won’t be together. Brett has already moved on to the fancy matador with the amazing green pants, and so it angers her that Cohn won’t move on too, like Jake seemingly has. She does say to Jake that “you wouldn’t behave badly” (185), implying that all of her past lovers should be more like Jake, seemingly able to move on. (Little does she know that Jake, at this moment, would jump at another chance to be with her).

But is Jake okay with this? I mean he doesn’t flat out say it, but one can tell from the narration of his dialogue that he it hurts him when Brett complains about her trouble with love. (Like she has much to complain about compared to Jake). I honestly applaud Jake for not outright lamenting over his injury and being incapable to be in a relationship with his one true love. We do see him breaking down once, of which I bet is not the first, put he is able to display himself in a respectable manner, which gives off the idea that everything in his life is fine. (This quality can be seen as good and bad, for although he appears wise and composed, bottling up those kinds of emotions can have its drawbacks). I suppose this is why people, mostly Brett, talk to Jake about their problems in life. His life seems put together enough, I’ll bet he has time to help me with mine! It must be exhausting for Jake to have to listen to Brett complain about her many suitors, while Jake hasn’t been in a relationship since Brett (or so we are aware of).

But, again, is Jake okay with Brett just being Brett? To some extent, he has accepted the fact that he is not in the league/ game of men who are drawn in by Brett (not anymore, at least). “‘You wouldn’t behave badly.’ Brett looked at me. / ‘I’d be as big an ass as Cohn,’ I said” (185). If Jake were in the “game”, and was lead on by Brett, just to have his heart stomped on a few days later, he would act like just like Cohn. But Jake stoically accepts the limitations on his and Brett’s relationship. I suppose it’s healthy that he has seemingly moved past the stage of denial and into the realm of acceptance and moving on. (Perhaps Cohn will get there soon enough).

Initially, I didn’t think this was very admirable of Jake, because I still believed that he had deep feelings for Brett. I mean Brett flat out asks him “do you still love me, Jake?”, to which he replies “yes” (187), so I’m pretty sure that Jake, at this moment, was still in love with Brett. Pair that with Brett immediately stating that she’s in love with an adolescent, hispanic bull fighter who wears flashy, green pants. (It’s obviously hard on Jake to have heard that Brett took a vacation with Cohn, of all people. But to now hear that she’s into men with green pants must be just heartbreaking). But Jake has changed; he is not the man he was on page 187. He is almost a totally different man sixty pages later.

Now, after finishing the book, I can’t help myself but applaud Hemingway for creative a beautiful ending that is able to come full circle. I honestly believe that both Brett and Jake have changed by the end of the book. Brett has chosen to not drink as much. “I can’t just stay tight all the time” (187). She is sick of letting alcohol control her emotions and cloud her judgement on her life. Now, this isn’t to say that she will abstain from touching any alcoholic beverage, but she will try and live at least most of her life sober and in control, so another Romero situation won’t come rolling around. Even when she calls Jake to come help her back in Pamplona after the Romero situation, her dialogue has changed. She and Jake go get drinks and some lunch, and she asks, “what do you like to do?” (250). Now, I could be wrong, but I think that’s the first time Brett has asks Jake a question about his personal life. With all their conversations, it’s always just Brett lamenting her problems to Jake, and then her running off with another man to fulfill her sexual desires. Although Jake does avoid the question, it’s certainly a step in the right direction for Brett.

Now Jake too has, in my opinion, completely changed. It’s not until the last two pages that we see the new, better, stronger Jake Barnes emerge. It’s once Jake avoids Brett’s question of “How do you feel, Jake?”, that Jake answers “I feel fine” (249). At this moment, Jake is able to admit that he is fine. He is fine without Brett centering his life. He is completely fine. Jake then proceeds to eat and drink to his heart’s content, and even as he and Brett are cuddling in the back of a taxi, and as Brett admits that “we could have had such a damned good time together”, Jake responds “yes...isn’t it pretty to think so?” (251). At this point, Jake has realized that the idea of him and Brett together is just a fantasy that just can’t be a reality, and that’s okay, because he is fine. Once they exit this taxi ride, I think both Jake and Brett will emerge and two different people than before. They have seemingly accepted reality, and are ready to live their new lives.

This realization has made me really, really want a sequel so I can know what happens to Jake and Brett after this momentous taxi ride. They have both matured and are ready to move on from each other. Brett and Jake acknowledge that they are great friends, but can never be lovers, and it’s time for them to accept that. The sun has set for Brett as she chooses to try and tame her wild lifestyle. But the sun has also risen for Jake as he seemingly embarks on a new journey in life.

Bake? Jill? Honestly, i should just stop trying...

(http://thoughtsfrommaddie.blogspot.com/2015/09/rlarissa-clichard-nevermind.html#comment-form for title reference).

In class, we’ve discussed the different aspects of Bill’s irony and whether or not it crosses the line between just joking to completely offensive/ wrong. Earlier in The Sun Also Rises, we read how Jake reacts when a few gay men walk into a bar with Brett. “Somehow they always made me angry. I know they are supposed to be amusing, and you should be tolerant, but I wanted to swing on one, any one, anything to shatter that superior, simpering composure” (Hemingway 28). Jake is aware that homosexuality is acceptable in Paris society, but he just can’t get over that they aren’t like him. It bothers him that they act differently, even though they are the same gender as Jake. It’s almost as if he is angry that, assumably that they have not been injured from the war, such as Jake, they are sexually attracted to other men, instead of women, seemingly using their sexual reproductive organs for the wrong reason. (As Jacob might put it...Jake may have a little case of “penis envy”). In any case, for what it’s worth, Jake is aware that he should be tolerant, so he walks out to another bar to calm down.

In this scene, we see how, even though Jake may not be the most accepting of people who “aren’t like him”, he doesn’t feel the need to voice his discriminatory opinions...unlike his friend, Bill, who seemingly uses humor to express his true feelings about race, sexuality, and other borderline topics. When he and Jake were on the way into Spain, he complained to a priest, asking why the Catholics were getting a chance to eat, but he and Jake weren’t. “‘When do us Protestants get a chance to eat, father?’ / ‘I don’t know anything about it. Haven’t you got tickets?’ / It’s enough to make a man join the Klan,’ Bill said. The priest looked back at him” (Hemingway 93). Saying this kind of stuff is very racy, especially in the presence of a priest. Bill’s filter, or lack thereof, could get him into trouble with those who aren’t aware that Bill is just kidding. (Is that enough? To be just kidding?)

But Bill’s humor doesn’t seem to bother Jake. In fact, even when Bill seemingly goes too far and says: “You don’t work. Some group claims women support you. And other groups claims you’re impotent” (Hemingway 120). At this moment, Hemingway doesn’t write it, but we can feel the presence of an awkward pause. Bill has obviously gone too far, for Jake has spent every day that he’s gotten home from the war, moping over his injury (and for valid reasons too). Bill, an obvious good friend, has joined the pack of people who nonchalantly laugh at Jake’s injury, not thinking about how it emotionally affects Jake daily.

Surprisingly, Jake isn’t fazed by Bill’s comment. (Or so he says). “He had been going splendidly, but he stopped. I was afraid he thought he had hurt me with that crack about being impotent. I wanted to start him again” (Hemingway 120). Apparently Jake is fine with people making fun of his injury...as long as they are ironic and humorous about it. (By Jake’s standards). While in Spain, Jake doesn’t seem to mention his injury as much as he does in Paris. Which implies that he is happier and content in Spain, and doesn’t need to dwell on the war. Spain helps him temporarily move on. So, even though Bill brings up the accident, (or mystery as he would like Jake to portray it as) Jake is so set on not thinking about it, that he just wants Bill to press on with his riffing of jokes.

After this awkward break, Bill feels it necessary to say: “You’re a hell of a good guy, and I’m fonder of you than anybody on earth” (Hemingway 121). It’s almost as if Bill is reassuring Jake that his injury doesn’t matter; it doesn’t define his masculinity. Even though his masculinity is questioned, laughed at, and seemingly gone, he is still a “good guy” and more of a man than others. (Cohn?). This bromance between Jake and Bill is honestly very good for Jake, for it allows him to both come out of shell, and be comfortable in his own shoes. For the first time in his narrative, Jake is actively participating in conversations, instead of just sitting and listening. It will be interesting to see Jake when he heads back to Paris. Will he take Bill’s pointers and exercise his irony? Or will he crawl back into his shell?

Alcoholic Narratives

One observation that has been made in class about The Sun Also Rises is that EVERYONE is drinking/ drunk. It just seems to be the social norm. (It almost makes you wonder if you can even trust the narrator, Jake, if he and his friends are drunk all the time). Being in Hero’s Journey last year, this mass amount of alcohol consumption in a narrative reminds me of The Odyssey. In both The Odyssey and The Sun Also Rises the amount of drinking is seemingly out of control when being viewed by modern, 21st century eyes.

In both of these books, we can see how big drinking alcohol in their respective cultures. In the Odyssey, not only is drinking alcohol (wine) a social convention, it also plays key roles in the plot. In one scene, Telemachus (Odysseus’ son) wants to flee from his home to search for his long lost father, so the goddess Athena uses alcohol to help him escape. “Then bright-eyed Pallas thoughts of one last thing. Back she went to King Odysseus’ halls and there she showered sweet oblivion over the suitors, dazing them as they drank, knocking cups from hands. No more loitering now, their eyes weighed down with sleep, they rose and groped through town to find their beds” (Homer 105). Athena uses alcohol in this case to distract the many suitors inhabiting Odysseus’ house to allow Telemachus to have a secret escape so he can search for his father out at sea.

Another example of the use of alcohol in The Odyssey is seen with Calypso, the goddess-nymph. Calypso keeping Odysseus captive on her island until Hermes (son of Zeus) comes and delivers a threat from Zeus which says she is to release Odysseus so he can go home. Once Hermes arrives, Calypso immediately gives him a cup of wine. “And the goddess drew a table up beside him, heaped with ambrosia, mixed him deep-red nectar. Hermes the guide and giant-killer ate and drank” (Homer 155). Calypso offers a drink as a symbol of hospitality (and maybe also a way to soften up the god).

Through these examples, we can see how in ancient Greece, alcohol was not only seen as a gesture of hospitality, but also as a way to distract/ trick people. In The Sun Also Rises, alcohol is more conventionally used as a hospitable act, rather than deceitful. (But you never know, since we have yet to finish the book). But, unlike in The Odyssey, Hemingway also depicts the role of alcohol as more connection with our emotions. Yes, most of the characters drink when they are happy, but some of the characters get drunk in order to forget, to hide their true emotions (like Jake). This particular use of alcohol is a very modern application for there are multiple examples of people running off to the nearest bar in order to forget the troubles in their lives in the 21st century. Although, unfortunately, alcohol can end up making/ persuading people to do dangerous things that can harm innocent bystanders, (such as driving while under the influence), it usually does do the job of numbing the pain and allowing a short term escape from reality. (But once the hangover comes around, those putt off problems tend to resurface, which can cause a possible revisit to the bar and the start of an ugly feedback cycle).

As we can see, throughout the centuries, alcohol has played a huge key role in many narratives. The role itself hasn’t even changed very much: staying an excellent hospitable drink, while also having a deceitful nature. Although, believe it or not, I believe that alcohol played a more prominent role in The Odyssey, it still proves of be very prominent in The Sun Also Rises, and I wonder how it may or may not shape the plot as we near the end of the book.

Mothers and Fathers alike

In class, we’ve discussed how the way Brett chooses to interact with Jake can almost be seen as motherly love rather than sexual love. She strokes his head while asking if he’s okay, seemingly trying to be nurturing rather than intimate. Assumably she feels bad that she and Jake can’t be in an intimate relationship, so she tries to make up for it by being a loving motherly figure in his life, rather than loving partner. But this doesn’t really help Jake’s emotions, in fact, it just stresses him out more. (I go deeper into this in my previous blog post).

But another observation we have made in class is how Jake feels the need to being the judge of all of Brett’s “suitors”. He expresses his likes and dislikes with everyone he meets in life, especially the ones connected to Brett (which seems to be almost everyone in his life), and makes it very clear if Brett should be hanging around them. (Well, he makes it clear to us. Jake isn’t one to voice his opinions much, he just sits back and watches, like a constant third wheeler.) This is apparent when Jake is talking to Robert Cohn, describing the gay men who enter the bar with Brett, and the drummer at the bar, who is one of Brett’s good friends. With all of these people connected to Brett, Jake has made it clear that he does not approve of their involvement with Brett, almost like an overprotective father. It can be inferred that Jake feels the need to father Brett, since he can’t be her love interest, he has to have some say in who can.

I’ve just found it very interesting how both Brett and Jake know that there is some loving connection between them. But, they also know (Brett is sure of it) that they can’t be intimate together, so they feel the need to fill this void with a different kind of love; a parental love. Brett “mothers” Jake because she feels that she is the reason for all the stress in his life (which is partly true), and Jake “fathers” Brett because, since he knows that it is not his time to be with her (maybe some time in the future it will all work out for him); he believes he should have a say in who does have the pleasure to be with the Lady Ashley Brett.

The Emotional Rollercoaster powered by Brett

After every chapter of The Sun Also Rises we read, I am always still left wondering what the role of Lady Brett Ashley actually is. It seems that every time she shows up, Jake is left even more depressed than he was before. Jake’s life is already like a daily emotional rollercoaster and it seems like Brett is the main reason for his bumpy ride.

The way Brett is able to almost manipulate and toy with Jake is both lifting and damaging to Jake’s emotions. When Jake had just gotten home from the bar and taken a shower (one could argue that he has symbolically cleansed his mind in an effort to have a peaceful night of sleep), Lady Brett Ashley just decides to barge in, after standing him up earlier in the day at Crillon, with the man she was with instead (although the count’s presence doesn’t seem to bother Jake very much). It is obvious that Jake has had a rough day/ life as is and Brett’s routine of jumping in and out of his life doesn’t seem like it’s helping much. Even as Jake tries get away by opting to finish changing, Brett feels the need to “check up” on him, saying “‘What’s the matter, darling? Do you feel rocky?’” (Hemingway 61). It is obvious that Jake is feeling “rocky”, for his life is seemingly always on a rough, downward slope. Even as he attempts to shield his face from Brett, she goes on by saying, “‘Poor old darling” while stroking his head. Then later, “Do you feel better, darling? Is the head any better?” (Hemingway 62). As if Jake’s life isn’t seemingly hard enough, Brett feels the need to baby him, totally aware of his true thoughts and feelings for her. (Although I’m not sure if she can sense that her actions may be hurting Jake, rather than helping him).  

I get the feeling that Brett feels bad that, not matter how much they try, she and Jake can’t be together. To substitute for this, she tries to fill Jake’s void by being a loving, motherly figure in his life. Unfortunately, this only makes the situation worse, as Jake keeps asking, “Couldn’t we live together, Brett? Couldn’t we just live together?” (Hemingway 62), and Brett just responds, “I don’t think so...It’s my fault, Jake. It’s the way I’m made” (Hemingway 62). Because of these cryptic actions and responses, it seems as though Brett is just toying and manipulating him, (like she seemingly manipulates the count), and Jake can’t help himself but play along in her little game, crashing and burning every time. Although I bet Brett is just trying to protect Jake’s feelings by trying to have a different kind of loving relationship, it seems as though her actions and words are doing more damage than good. She keeps sending Jake these mixed messages that keep their relationship in a grey area, which seems to torment Jake.

It’s almost as if Brett may be a main source for Jake’s inferiority (besides the obvious war injury). In class, we’ve discussed how Jake seems to judge people and bring them down in order to make himself seem more masculine than those who are supposedly less than him. Examples of this include how he describes Robert Cohn, the gay men who enter the bar with Brett, and the black drummer, who is one of Brett’s good friend. (I talk about this more in my previous blog post). But one person that all these people tie back to is Lady Ashley Brett. Brett is literally involved with all the people that bring Jake distress, even though she tries to be a nurturing, motherly figure. Of course there are other reasons for Jake’s hatred towards these people (racist, homophobic, and anti semitic; just to name a few) that can only make sense in Jake’s mind, but the fact that Brett is involved with all of these men obviously annoys Jake to no end.

Although I’ll bet Brett means well, the fact that she keeps sending Jake on this emotional roller coaster is something to consider. She seemingly either doesn’t notice what seems to cause Jake so much pain and hatred, or she is too far in her ways to change...or both. Either way, it’s because of these facts that I can’t make up my mind if I like Brett’s character or not.

Internal Conflictions with Masculinity

After today’s class discussion and reading Lydia’s most recent blogpost, I can definitely understand why Jake Barnes feels the need to bring others down (specifically men) when introducing them. This is evident in the beginning of the book when Jake is describing one of his seemingly best friends, Robert Cohn, by saying “Robert Cohn was once middleweight boxing champion of Princeton. Do not think that I am very much impressed by that as a boxing title” (11). Although the second sentence is obviously very demeaning towards Cohn, in the first sentence, the use of the word “once” implies that, however impressive Cohn once was back at Princeton, (of which according to Jake, wasn’t very much), he isn’t nearly as impressive now.

This part of Jake’s personality is also evident when he is describing the gay men who walz into the bar with Lady Ashley Brett. He states that they “always made [him] angry...[he] always wanted to swing on one, any one, anything to shatter that superior, simpering composure” (28). During this time in Paris, as Mr. Mitchell has stated in class, although gay men were still considered a minority, they were open and people were (supposed to be) tolerant. Jake himself states “I know they are supposed to be amusing, and you should be tolerant” (28). Knowing this leads me to believe that, although Jake may be uncomfortable around homosexuals, deep down, his hatred isn’t related to homophobia, but to envy and disappointment. These feels are most clearly related to his war injury, where he isn’t able to have a physical relationship with a woman as these men could have. But even though these men are fortunate to be blessed with fully functional reproductive organs, in Jake’s mind, they don’t use them in the “right” way.

All of these situations lead to why Jake is so insecure with himself and feels the need to bring others down in order to boost his self esteem. His injury has limited his ability to have an emotional and physical connection with most women, especially Brett. Both Brett and Jake have illuded that they have had a past relationship around the time that Jake was in the hospital, but it didn’t work out, seemingly because of Jake’s limitations. Even though Jake has tried to convince Brett that they should try to be in a relationship again, Brett’s response is that “I don’t want to go through that hell again” (34), claiming that “It isn’t all that you know” (34), of which Jake responds with, “what happened to me is supposed to be funny. I never think about it” (34). Even though he tells Brett that his would can be a funny joke, it’s clear that Jake isn’t laughing at his injury, and I’m sure that he thinking about it more often that he’d like to admit. It pains him to accept the fact that he will never be with the woman he loves, because he fought in the war.

This is interesting because, in the twentieth century, when a man went off to fight in the war, it was seen as a proof of his manliness. In fact, it was seen as epicene to not fight in the war, and so so many men left their homes and fought for the wrong reasons. Like in Mrs Dalloway where Septimus Smith is told that his interests in poetry and Shakespeare makes him seem effeminate, and so he goes off to fight in the war in order to prove himself. But, instead of coming back a war hero, he comes back a cynical, clinically ill man with feelings of numbness and hallucinations; he will never be the same because of what he saw and felt during combat. He goes away, wanting to return a bigger and better man (according to society), but instead he comes back with PTSD, (referred to as shellshock back then). Since PTSD was an unfamiliar diagnosis back then, he was seen as weak for dwelling on the war and not moving on. Septimus’ attempts to raise his manliness by going to war actually did the exact opposite, and this led him to live a damned, damaged life until his sudden death.

In Jake Barnes’ situation, I assume he also left to fight in the war both because it was what men did to prove their manliness, (although, considering what we know about Jake so far, I don’t think Jake was seen as unmanly. At least, not in comparison to Septimus). In any case, Jake comes back from the war, physically and emotionally less of a man than he was before. He even cries about his injury and how it has affected his life, (most importantly his relationship with Brett), which is not something that is considered very “manly”. Even after we figure out his injury, Jake shows us his one final attempt to prove that he is still “manly” by stating, “I never think about it” (34), trying to convince us, and Brett, that the wound is nothing and that he is still the man he was and that Brett deserves.

Now the wound itself proves to be very interesting. When Jake is fully clothed, he appears to be healthy. No one would think twice about him having a serious injury from the war. Because of this, Jake is able to keep a facade that masks his internal grief and disappointment. “It’s awfully easy to be hard-boiled about everything in the daytime, but at night it is another thing” (42). Jake can fool anyone in the world, except himself. He is most vulnerable when by himself, because he can’t convince others otherwise, since it is only him, so he is left to accept the facts: that serious physical relationships will be hard, if not impossible, for him to achieve, that the universe has make him into a joke for others (not himself) to laugh at, and that he will have to live his life as a lie until he has the confidence to share his story with someone else other than Brett, who has already decided that her and Jake need to stay apart from each other. Hanging out with Brett is very theraputic for Jake, because she is the only person (that we know of) that is aware of Jake’s injury. Therefore, Jake can really be himself around her, and he doesn’t feel like he’s living a lie. When/ If Brett leaves, Jake will be alone and even more depressed for no one around him will be aware of his true self.

All in all, Jake’s injury seems to be, not only the butt of everyone’s joke, but also the butt of his depression. He feels detached from society and always the “third wheel” of social gatherings, for only he knows the true difference between him and all of his other male friends, and that causes him to ostracize himself from groups. As science has progressed, we have learned of the repercussions of keeping feelings such as these bottled up for long periods of time can be seriously detrimental. Since it is only the first section of the book, it will be interesting to see what will happen to Jake when/if Brett leaves and if Jake will confide in anyone or how his silence will affect both himself and his relationship with the people around him.

The Moving Pictures and Pages of Depression

After reading Virginia Woolf’s Mrs. Dalloway and watching The Hours, a film based on Michael Cunningham’s book, (titled The Hours), I can’t help by draw parallels between the book and the movie. One of these parallels that really stuck out at me was the similarity in the way Septimus, in the book, and Virginia Woolf, in the movie, are depicted in their respective stages in their depressions.

In the book, we’ve read and discuss how Woolf is able to depict Septimus’ depression as something only he is able to understand. The medical field at his time is not very well accustomed to treating people with shellshock, and so Septimus is left to try in live in a world that has been distorted by his own mind and at the unintentional expense of those around him (most importantly, Reiza). Even in the last hours of Septimus’ life, when he seems to be “getting better” by realizing that, if he focuses very hard, the visions and noises will go away, and he will be able to see through this dense fog his mind has placed over him. “He began, very cautiously, to open his eyes, to see whether a gramophone was really there. But real things--real things were too exciting. He must be cautious. He would not go mad...None of these things moved. All were still; all were real” (Woolf 142). Septimus tries very hard, assumably for Reiza, (not the doctors), to see things for what they really are; to see the real world.

But, as we all know, his recovery is halted when he hears that Dr. Holmes is coming to the door. In a surprisingly calm panic, Septimus decides to throw himself out the window in order to escape them. But “he did not want to die. Life was good. The sun hot. Only human beings--what did they want?” (Woolf 149). Septimus knew, no matter how hard he tried, he would never fully recover, and would therefore be subjected to “treatment” that wasn’t suited for his illness. He used death as an escape into a freer path; he fell in his life so he could rise again in another. I suppose this would go along with what Mr. Mitchell mention in class about Septimus being considered a Christ figure. (I wasn’t planning to go down the religious route, but there is it I guess).

In the movie, Virginia Woolf, played by Nicole Kidman (remarkable well if I do say so myself), is also dealing with a different case of depression. Even though her case is not in as serious of a stage as Septimus’ was, she still is a victim of male medicine in which doctors of her time were not as educated on the topic of depression (or bipolar disorder in Woolf’s case) as they are now. Therefore, Woolf was subjected to multiple forms of “treatment” in which she was made to, to quote Mr. Mitchell, “rest her pretty little head until it all clears”. And when that treatment didn’t work, her and her husband moved to a secluded house in Richmond, England, away from London, the city that was seemingly causing Virginia so much trouble.

This, of course, doesn’t help because Virginia still feels locked away for something other people don’t even understand, stating that “[she’s] endured this custody...endured this imprisonment” and explaining that she is “attended by doctors everywhere who inform [her] of [her] own interests...they do not speak for [her] interests...[her] life has been stolen from [her]” and that she is “living a life [she] has no wish to live” (Cunningham). Virginia’s life has been taken over by those who believe that, because of her condition, she seems weak and unable to be a reliable judgement of her own condition. Although her husband, Leonard, is only trying to help Virginia by doing what the doctors say, he does not realize that the “treatment” is slowly pushing her deeper into her depression, and in the end, towards suicide.

In both Septimus’ and Virginia’s cases, their depression seems to be furthered by those who try to “treat” them without really trying to understand them. People close to them, such as Reiza and Leonard, whether or not they understand their respective partners’ condition, actually help them better than the medical authorities. This is because, since Reiza and Leonard are both close to their partners, and therefore have the patience to sit back and observe, they don’t push their beliefs on Septimus or Virginia; they don’t want to force either of them to do things that will torture them; they are only interested in seeing Septimus and Virginia healthy again. And it’s interesting how both the book and movie are able to portray this is such different, and yet incredibly similar ways.

A Shift in One’s Universe

I know that this will be a short blog post, but I just had to get some ideas out there in hopes that some of you will either agree or disagree with my mini-epiphany. So, when we were first being introduced to Clarissa Dalloway, we learn about her time at Bourton, more specifically, her time with Sally Seton. While at Bourton, Clarissa explains that “she did undoubtedly then feel what men felt” when she was with Sally Seton. Clarissa loved Sally’s amazing gift of a personality and even explains her own excitement when Sally would be in the same house as her, thinking “she is beneath this roof...she is beneath this roof!” In Clarissa’s mind, Sally is this amazing, inspiring person that she is just involuntarily obsessed with.

But as the years go by, Clarissa and Sally grow apart, and Clarissa settles to marry Richard and spend her life as the perfect hostess. But, as Sally leaves Clarissa’s mind, Peter enters, but not in the way you would think. The roles are reversed, and this time, Peter ends up feeling a connection to Clarissa and sense excitement whenever he is near her. “What is this terror? what is this ecstasy? he thought to himself. What is it that fills me with extraordinary excitement? It is Clarissa, he said. For there she was”. The tide has changed from Sally being the center of Clarissa’s universe, to Clarissa becoming the center of Peter’s universe.

After this switch, it will be interesting to see how Peter’s marriage in India will go if he is unable to stop thinking about, or even be separated from, Clarissa. Will he try and win Clarissa back? Or will he go back to India to marry his new found love interest?

Rlarissa? Clichard? Nevermind.

I’m just going to go out and say it: I love Richard. He is, so far, my favorite character in Mrs. Dalloway. In the beginning, we are just given Clarissa Dalloway’s perspective on why her marriage, although it may be very relaxed, is sometimes unfulfilling. She even states that, at times, she is unaware of Richard’s whereabouts when he leaves. It’s a marriage based to trust and independence. Seeing as Richard was seemingly never home, I just assumed he was a man who was more interested in his work than his wife...boy was I wrong.

In the section where we experience Richard’s perspective, in my eyes, Richard became the sweetest, most caring, most sympathetic character in the book. “He walked across the Park to tell his wife that he loved her. For he would say it in so many words, when he came into the room. Because it is a thousand pities never to say what one feels” (Woolf 116). Richard decides to buy Clarissa flowers and head home to confess his love for her. He’s not like Hugh, who feels the need to buy his wife necklaces and stuff. (Although Richard one bought Clarissa a bracelet, but she never wore it, and that hurt him). He had even “been jealous of Peter Walsh; jealous of him and Clarissa” (Woolf 117). But he knows that Clarissa has said she was right not to marry Peter, and Richard agrees, for he explain that Clarissa needs the support that he can give, without implying that Clarissa is in any way, weak.

But as Richard waltzes in and sits down to talk to Clarissa, he can’t bring himself to say the right words. “He had not said ‘I love you’; but he held her hand, Happiness is this, is this, he thought” (Woolf 119). Although he isn’t able to express the right words to Clarissa, he is able to tell us, since we are in his mind, that being with Clarissa makes him extremely happy. Unfortunately for him, Clarissa is beginning to possibly have second thoughts about marrying Richard. She is seeing how fun and adventurous Peter’s life is in India, and how jealous she is when Peter tells her he has found a new love interest.

Unfortunately for both Richard and Clarissa, their personalities seem to be similar. They choose to not share their true emotions with each other, and therefore, their marriage could be falling apart. But I find myself rooting for Richard and Clarissa, and I hope things work out in the end.