A Woman’s Influence

After watching the Coen Brothers’ The Man Who Wasn’t There, I can’t help but compare it to Albert Camus’ The Stranger (Obviously, since that is partly the reason Mr. Mitchell offered to play it. But, moving on...). One comparison that I have found especially interesting is Camus’ Marie and the Coen Brothers’ Doris and Birdy. In The Stranger, Marie represents one of the strongest relationships Meursault appears to have. He feels content when he’s with her and even agrees to marry her too. “She was wearing a pair of my pajamas with the sleeves rolled up. When she laughed I wanted her again” (35). Although Meursault expresses multiple times that he enjoys time with Marie and that he really wants her, he doesn’t actually love her. When he explains why he didn’t love her, he just says that “it didn’t mean anything” (35). Marie is the one suggesting that they get married and although Meursault agrees just for the heck of it, he doesn’t see the point of it. This goes along with Meursault’s philosophy that everything in life is meaningless, and according to Meursault, it’s pointless to do something that means nothing. Even though Marie represents one of the happier aspects of Meursault’s life, he only sees hanging out with her as satisfying his present state and doesn’t find it useful to think about a future with her because he too preoccupied with the present.

Now, in The Man Who Wasn’t There, I find that Marie has been depicted as a mix of Doris’ and Birdy’s personalities, but Doris is the one who more directly correlates with Marie. She is in a relationship with Ed Crane (the Meursault of the story) and seems to be the one that keeps Ed sane and level. When Doris is gone (and when she is fading from him too, ie. cheating), Ed falls for numerous scams, seemingly lost without Doris’ guidance. Towards the end of the movie, when Ed is having a flashback to a normal day in the life of him and Doris, we can see how when a salesman comes to trick Ed into purchasing his services, Doris comes home just in time to send him off before Ed wasted his money. But, when Doris is being unfaithful, and therefore drifting away from Ed, it seems convenient that Ed is tricked into giving over $10,000 to a con artist. Then, when Doris is deceased, Ed is tricked to trust a woman who claims she can speak to those in the afterlife. Ed is seemingly lost and gullible without the guidance of Doris in his life.

But Doris only makes up half the role of Marie. (Realistically, she probably makes up more than half, but this isn’t math class so I’m not going to be finicky with the numbers). The other half is made up by Birdy. Now, the only way Birdy relates to Marie’s character is the way she can change Ed. Normally, Ed is this emotionless, speechless man who moves throughout life seemingly lost and forgotten. But, when he’s with Birdy, he is transformed into this talkative, passionate man whose goal is to get Birdy to the best teachers he can to further her musical career. (Unfortunately for Ed, Birdy isn’t really into pursuing a musical career). It’s interesting how Birdy’s music is able to bring this totally different side of Ed out and that he feels comfortable to express this hidden aspect of his personality.

Even though together, Doris and Birdy bid a close resemblance to Marie’s character, they both have their own unique personalities and roles in the Coen Brothers’ plot. I suspect that, if it weren’t for the obvious age gap between Ed and Birdy, they would have spend more time together. But Ed seemed to enjoy Doris’ presence, ultimately admitting that they could get married if she wanted too. Although the movie’s and book’s narratives are different, they remain similar in the way they are able to shape an invisible man’s life through, among many other aspects, the women in his life.

One Shot. Two Shot. Red Shot. Blue Shot.

(Apologies in advance for the morbid use of the Dr. Seuss phrase).

One of the many debated aspects of Meursault’s crime is the fact that he shot, not one, but five bullets into the Arab. Moreover, he paused between the first and second shot, as if he were to stop, but then continues shooting the already dead man. “The trigger gave; I felt the smooth underside of the butt; and there, in that noise, sharp and deafening at the same time is where it all started...Then I fired four more times at the motionless body where the bullets lodged without leaving a trace. It was like knocking four quick times on the door of unhappiness” (59). Now, first, the way Meursault explains the start of the event that ‘the trigger gave”, implying that is wasn’t really his intent to shoot the gun, the trigger just moved that way. By not saying ‘I pressed the trigger’, he directs the blame/ intention away from him. Now, knowing Meursault, this account is probably true. He most likely didn’t have any intent of killing this man, the trigger most likely literally gave under his fingers, causing him to shoot the Arab.

So there was one shot...and then four more. Now, in the court’s perspective, this kind of action shows that Meursault was probably knowingly killing this man. The first shot could have been played off as an accident (since the court already seems to be searching for some way to prove him innocent already), but once the four other shots came into play, things began to go south for Meursault. None of the court officials are able to grasp why Meursault would fire the last four shots. (To some extent, Meursault doesn’t even know why he did it either). But, after being with Meursault for basically eleven chapters, I would think that we know Meursault better than anyone else alive in the book. (Well, we know him as well as he chooses to share, since he is the narrator). It’s Meursault’s child-like behavior that pushes him to shoot this man five times. Once he shoots the gun once, being his first time firing a gun (we assume), he is overcome with this a new kind of feeling. He hadn’t felt different when Maman had died, but once that trigger gives and the bullet leaves the gun, things have definitely changed. The harmony of the day has been interrupted and there’s no going back.

Now, as Mr. Butler has stated multiple times in class: you give the people something, and they end up wanting more. Meursault has just felt this powerful feeling of change and reversal, something he hasn’t felt in a long time (maybe even never before). And so, being so fascinated with how the firing of the gun made him feel, he fires again, and again, and again, and again. He wants to feel that exhilaration once more. But, as he states, firing those last four shots felt like ‘knocking four quick times on the door of unhappiness’. He is unhappy because, even though he felt something powerful the first time, it’s something that can’t be reversed and will only lead to complication and unhappiness in the end.

Trial Motives

After finishing the trial scene in The Stranger, one of the many questions I am left with is: What is really on trial here? We all know and accept that the reason Meursault has been brought to the courtroom is because he has shot and killed a man for no apparent reason. Being in a 20th century French colony, Meursault could easily play this crime off as self defense and get off clean. But he doesn’t because he knows that he killed this man and that he must be punished for his actions. So, instead of avoiding the inevitable, he chooses to accept it and adapt to it in order to move on and focus on the present.

But with Meursault readily able to confess his guiltiness, one would think that this trial would be smooth sailing and predictable. WRONG! This trial doesn’t just stay in the bounds of chapter 6; it actually ranges from chapter 1 to the present. The prosecutor decides to focus on that fact that Meursault didn’t show any emotion at his mother’s funeral, and how, the day after, Meursault decided hang out with “his mistress” and go swimming, watch a comedy movie, and in the end, they went home together. According to the prosecutor, this is not how one should act when their mother has just died. Supposedly one should be crying and mourning days after the funeral, and since Meursault didn’t not do this, his case is not just a normal murder case.

The prosecutor attempts to convince the jury that Meursault’s actions were premeditated because of how he acted at his mother’s funeral. At the service, Meursault showed a lack of emotion, and so days later, he chose to lash out on the Arab, making his crime a first degree murder crime instead of a second degree murder crime, which is a more serious case. Meursault’s lawyer tries to convince the jury that this is preposterous and that Meursault is an “honest man, a steadily employed, tireless worker, loyal to the firm that employed him, well liked, and sympathetic to the misfortunes of others” (104). By doing this, his lawyer is attempting to show that Meursault is a “normal” man. All throughout this trial, the prosecutor has been trying to prove how abnormal and devious Meursault’s actions have been leading up to the crime and the actual crime itself. In a way, Meursault’s crime isn’t the thing on trial; his personality is. Although expressing one’s grief at their own mother’s funeral is a very customary action, there is no one-size-fits-all when it comes to the grieving process. We express our emotions in different ways and the court doesn’t seem to see that. It is obvious that Meursault isn’t a normal man, but that doesn’t mean he is a dangerous man, it just means he’s different.

Although there may be another blog post coming up about how Meursault’s personality can be associated with those of a sociopath, I can definitely see how Meursault is being misjudged by the courts because they don’t understand him. It’s obvious that Meursault can have emotional relationships (ie. Marie), his brain is just wired a little differently than others. Because it is hard to fit someone with this kind of personality into a one-size-fits-all mold, Meursault gives off the impression as strange and, because of recent events, a danger to society.

This is why I find myself conflicted over Meursault’s case. On one hand, I can see the prosecutor’s reasoning behind his opposition to Meursault’s personality, but on the other hand, because we are given Meursault’s perspective throughout the whole book, we can see that this wasn’t a crime of passion. I would say that Meursault needs help (a mental institution or hospital perhaps) more than the death sentence that he was given, but it seems as though the court isn’t willing to let a dangerous murderer live in society any longer, even though the court has yet to fully understand Meursault as a person or what his true motives actually were (a fact that even us as readers don’t even know).

Heat’s Insanity

One of the most conflicting scenes we have read so far in this class is the scene where Meursault decides to take it upon himself to kill the Arab that has been feuding with Raymond. Although many questions arose after this scene, the most debated one is: Why? Why did Meursault shoot this man?

Initially, I thought that Meursault was trying to take some initiative and assert his dominance in this scene. While Raymond, Masson, and Meursault were approaching the Arabs for the first time, Raymond says that “if there’s any trouble, Masson, you take the other one. I’ll take care of my man. Meursault, if another one shows up, he’s yours” (53). Raymond basically tells Meursault to sit on the sidelines while he and Masson deal with the Arabs. Because Meursault has proven himself to be a very passive person, Raymond doesn’t trust him to have his back. This could have been very offensive to Meursault, who had just saved Raymond from jail by testifying on his behalf.

With this in mind, Meursault goes out on a walk alone, and happens to walk right back to the Arab with Raymond’s gun in his pocket. Now, on this walk, and even during the murder, there is no thought in Meursault’s head that says: ‘I’m doing this for Raymond. I need to defend my friend.’ Rather, all Meursault can think about is the scorching heat. “There was the same dazzling red glare. The sea gasped for air with each shallow, stifled little wave that broke on the sand. I was walking slowly toward the rocks and I could feel my forehead swelling under the sun. All that heat was pressing down on me and making it hard for me to go on. And every time I felt a blast of its hot breath strike my face, I gritted my teeth, clenched my fists in my trouser pockets, and strained every nerve in order to overcome the sun and the think drunkenness it was spilling over me” (57). Throughout this whole scene, the sun is just torturing Meursault to no end. It was argued in class that one of the reasons Meursault killed the Arab was because of the sun, and how its heat drove him to madness.

It’s interesting to see that, another time where the sun seems to be unbearable is at Maman’s funeral. “All around me there was still the same glowing countryside flooded with sunlight. The glare from the sky was unbearable” (16). Meursault even says that “the sun was the same as it had been the day I’d buried Maman” (58). Because of these similarities, it could be argued that Meursault has connected his mother’s funeral to this Arab, and since Meursault didn’t really show very much emotion at his mother’s funeral, he’s making up for it now. The sun’s heat acts as a trigger as it brings Meursault back to the loss of his mother, and therefore lashes out at this Arab man.

Now, although all these explanations could be true, they are all speculations because, with Meursault’s limited narrative, we really don’t know why he killed this man. In part two, we can see that maybe he doesn’t even know why he did it either. Meursault isn’t one to dwell on the past, so he has yet to, and probably won’t ever, contemplate why he killed the man; he will just accepts it and move on. This makes it hard for us as readers because Meursault is so easy to accept his past and keep moving, while we are stuck wondering: Who? What? When? Where? Why? How?

Dogs are Man’s Best Friend

I’m just going to flat out say it: I don’t get old Salamano. Or at least, I don’t get his relationship with his dog. Early on, the only scenes we get of him are when he’s beating his dog (of which Meursault and Raymond seem to be fine with), so I’ve never really liked him to begin with. “[Salamano and his dog] look as if they belong to the same species, and yet they hate each other...the dog [pulls Solomano] along until [he] stumbles. Then he beats the dog and swears at it. The dog cowers and trails behind. Then it’s the old man who pulls the dog. Once the dog had forgotten, it starts dragging its master along again, and again gets beaten and sworn at” (27). From this scene, and many others like it, and old Salamano’s favorite name for his dog, “filthy, stinking bastard” (27), I immediately got the impression that Salamano was a troubled man with a terrible relationship with his pet. I honestly thought he hated the dog and was just waiting for the thing to just die. It’s not until chapter five that I became completely confused with, and yet accepting of, this rocky relationship.

In chapter five, Salamano loses his dog and becomes very worried and distressed. I would have assumed that he would have felt as if a huge weight had been lifted off his chest, but on the contrary, it seems as if more weight has been added. “We’d have a run-in every now and then. But he was a good dog just the same” (45). Salamano has felt this strong connection to his dog ever since the death of his wife. He filled his empty void of companionship with this dog, and although they fight a lot, once the dog disappears, Salamano begins to feel alone and abandoned. Though it may be a funny way of showing it, Salamano loved his dog, and so the thought of losing it seems daunting and unbearable.

Solomano and his dog are like an old married couple. Although they fight a lot, in the end, they love and can’t live without each other. I just hope that this relationship isn’t one sided and that he finds his dog soon. It makes me wonder why the dog ran away. Was the loving/ abusive relationship too much for it? Or maybe it’s been trying to find its way home all along, but is lost, wandering the streets of Algiers, looking for its owner. Either way, I hope Solomano is able to find his lost dog because, ever since his wife died, that dog has been the only strong relationship he has in his life and it would be a shame to have that taken away from him as well. (Except maybe Solomano and Meursault will grow closer, since Meursault already seems to be one of a select group that Solomano chooses to confide in. But, judging from his character, I don’t think Meursault is the best person to rely on because he can be, at times, very brutally honest).

Meursault (Mer-sew).

For this blog post, I have decided to focus on Monsieur Meursault and his effectiveness as a narrator. Now, since this post is based off the first chapter of The Stranger, it probably won’t be a reliable analysis later on, since I assume that my opinion of Meursault will change as the novel progresses. But, here goes nothing...

So, when we are first introduced to Meursault, I couldn’t help myself from being very judgemental of his character. I mean, his mother has just died, and while at the vigil, he refuses to see her body for the last time, even though he hasn’t seen her much in the past year, and all he can think about is this woman crying. “Soon one of the woman started crying...I thought she’d never stop...The woman kept on crying. It surprised me, because I didn’t know who she was. I wished I didn’t have to listen to her anymore” (10). His mother has just died, and all Meursault can think about is how annoying this weeping, mourning woman is. Also, when all the other elderly people enter for the vigil, the most stand out characteristic of these people, to Meursault, is their wrinkles. “What struck me most about their faces was that I couldn’t see their eyes, just a faint glimmer in a nest of wrinkles” (10). Seriously? His mother’s friends at her nursing home come to pay their respects, and all he can think about his the wrinkles on their faces?

Now, if we weren’t given context, I would find Meursault very distasteful. But, on the first page, he tells us “for now, it’s almost as if Maman weren’t dead. After the funeral, though, the case will be closed, and everything will have a more official feel to it” (3). At this moment, Meursault is feeling a sort of numbness to his mother’s death, which is a totally acceptable way of dealing with his situation. Everyone has different methods of grievance and Meursault’s way of denying it all it just what he finds most comfortable. I mean, we already can see that he isn’t a very emotional character, and so pushing his feelings back and acting like it’s just a normal day is a very legitimate coping method for him. It’s almost as if he doesn’t want people to see him grieving. He is a very paranoid man, stating that, even when his mother’s nursing home friends come to pay their respects, “[he] had the ridiculous feeling that they were there to judge him” (10). With every person he meets and interacts with, he feels like they are there to judge him, and so, to seemingly save face, he acts aloof and unaffected by things happening around him. It’s almost as if he thinks people will judge him if he becomes too emotional (when in reality, we would see it strange if one didn’t emotionally break down), and so he moves through the whole funeral process without becoming emotionally attached to the event/ process.

Because of all of this, I find Meursault a very intriguing character. As it’s been said in class, we aren’t really sure if we’ve seen the real Monsieur Meursault yet. Like in Gregor’s case, we are introduced to the narrator at a very pivotal moment in his life. We don’t know for sure what Meursault was like before his mother’s death, we are just left to see how he will be after. Meursault can be a very sympathetic character because at times, he is very relatable. But he can also be very secretive and introverted, and so, to me, he seems like an untrustworthy narrator because I feel like he’s holding back things from us. We can’t see the full picture of his life because he has yet to share it with us, so we are left in the dark until we are hopefully enlightened later on.

At times, this secretive quality really annoys me. Like when he just speeds through his mother’s funeral like it’s not big deal, just focusing on how he is going to go to bed at the end of the day and sleep well. Part of me is saying that I should forgive him because he is going through a troubling time in his life, but I’m also wondering if this is the real Meursault. In that case, I’m not sure I will enjoy this limited access to information. “After that, everything seemed to happen so fast, so deliberately, so naturally that I don’t remember any of it anymore” (17). I suppose I can relate to wanting to block out unpleasant memories in one’s life, but I’m not so sure that that’s what he is doing. I don’t think he’s trying to block these harsh feelings, I just don’t think he feels very attached to them to begin with. Part of this could be attributed to the fact that he hasn’t visited his mother very often, for the inconvenience it causes him to travel to the nursing home, and so he doesn’t have that much of an emotional attachment to his mother. (I wonder how his relationship was with his mother before he stopped visiting. We get glimpses that it wasn’t really a good one because she was constantly bored. But I kind of want to know more. I know, I’m a greedy reader. Sorry.). In any case, I’m either hoping that Meursault will change his narration style, or I will come to truly understand why he seems so emotionally unattached to almost everything in his life. Right now, Meursault’s methods and actions are stranger-esque in my mind, but I’m hoping I will get to know him as I read on.

The Real Monsters

In class, we’ve discussed how Gregor’s metamorphosis has drastically changed the family routine and dynamics. Before, the whole family was entirely dependant on Gregor and his cushy traveling salesman job. The father would sit at the table “reading the paper or studying timetables” (10) while Gregor headed off to work every morning. His mother and father both quit working, embracing a relaxing lifestyle, while their son worked to bring comfort to their lives. Now, although Grete, Gregor’s sister, is still in school, and so working isn’t totally a necessity, she still seems to go along with depending on Gregor. She could have gotten a job, as we see happens once Gregor is unable to work anymore, she just chooses not to.

At first, I wasn’t very judgemental of the family for leaning on Gregor for stability. It’s pretty much human nature to crave comfortability in life, and so Gregor’s family isn’t really in the wrong for being able to fulfill that desire. It’s not until the very end that I became very skeptical of Mr. and Mrs. Samsa’s way to live their lives. “While they were talking in this vein, it occurred almost simultaneously to Mr. and Mrs. Samsa, as they watched their daughter getting livelier and livelier, that lately, in spite of all the troubles which had turned her cheeks pal, she had blossomed into a good-looking, shapely girl...it would soon be time, too, to find her a good husband. And it was like a confirmation of their new dreams and good intentions when at the end of the ride their daugher got up first and stretched her young body” (58). The parents are like parasites. Immediately after Gregor’s death, the parents realize that their daughter is growing up, and will soon be of age to marry, thus added a fully working husband to the family. Since their old source of income has been sucked dry and has perished, it’s time for the parents to latch onto another source to provide them the life of luxury they once had. Mr. and Mrs. Samsa are the real monsters; moving on from host to host in order to satisfy their desires in life. They seemingly can’t live a life where they have to work and provide for themselves, and so they turn to their youthful daughter and rely on her to marry a man who will fully provide for the family, like Gregor once did.

It’s interesting how, initially, Kafka sets us up to believe that Gregor in the monster of the story. But once Gregor passes away, we realize who the true monsters of the story. Mr. and Mrs. Samsa, after hearing about the death of their son, quickly move on and focus on their daughter and how she can help them get back to their old lives. Now, I definitely wonder how our perspective would have changed if the story wasn’t in Gregor’s perspective. Would we feel as sympathetic for Gregor or the parents? Would we understand the parents’ motives more, or despise them even more?

Stand up for Cockroaches?

As many of people have noted, even before his metamorphosis, Gregor was seemingly already part-bug. He worked for the leader of the colony (the father and boss), never missing a day or stepping out of his routine. He was never able to communicate his true feelings about his work before his transformation, and after, since he eventually developed a bug voice, he couldn’t even if he tried. But what is it about the being a cockroach that makes Gregor so unapproachable and terrifying? I mean, if he was already part bug before on the inside, his outside was, I guess, bound to match it eventually...

I suppose it’s because we haven’t taken the time to understand cockroaches. For example, what if Gregor had turned into a puppy? He would definitely be cuter and more approachable because we are used to dealing with puppies. (I mean, 70-80 million households in America own dogs, so they aren’t an uncommon household pet). A puppies necessities are basically common knowledge: what they eat, drink, where they sleep, what they like to do, etc. I think the Samsas would definitely treat Gregor better if he were a puppy, because a puppy wouldn’t scare away visitors or eat strange things. They wouldn’t hurt Gregor because, I mean, he’s a puppy.

(How could one hurt such a thing???) Most people are trained not to hurt puppies because it’s animal cruelty. Is hurting a cockroach the same thing? I mean, I’ve witnessed numerous people hit, kick, and step on cockroaches, and none of them were reported to the ASPCA. The most logical explanation I can come up with is that it’s because of how they look. (But that just seems like such a judgemental explaination). Cockroaches definitely have a “disgusting” nature to them; they way they crawl around, lurking in the shadows.

You cannot say that those look like fun pets to play around with. (Or maybe you can. Props to you then).

But, I suppose, Gregor’s monstrous form worked in his favor. (Until the end...). If he were a puppy, the family would still be unable to support him, and so he might have been sold and given away or put down. Being a cockroach, he was able to stay at home, in his own room, with his own family until his last breaths. It would be hard to transport a giant cockroach anywhere, so the Samsas were forced to stay in the house until they thought of a solid plan. So, although Gregor’s last days weren’t the best, they could have been way worse. I think, if he was going to die, let it be in his own room with his homemade picture frame cutout...but he did miss out on the cuteness factor. Just sayin.

Drops of Legos in Each Narration

So… the comparison was made in class, and now I feel personally obligated to draw it out in a blog post. It’s time to bring back around The Lego Movie and the heroic journey of Emmet Brickowski. Not only can parallels be drawn between Emmet’s and Gregor’s narratives, but we can also bring in Howie from The Mezzanine as well. All three of these characters initially (and for some, continuously throughout their narrative) exhibit a similar characteristic of being obsessed with their work. They all seemingly fail to have a sense of individualism because the capitalist system has taken over them and surrounded their worlds.

As we’ve discussed in class, all Gregor can seem to think about is his work. Every aspect of his life connects to his work. Even when he wakes up, having transformed into a giant cockroach, the first thing he can think about is the fact that he is late for work. Gregor feels the need to provide for his family because they are unable to, and so, in order to do this, he feels he must dedicate his entire life to his work. While this can be seen as a very unusual and quirky characteristic, it is also a very admirable quality that is unappreciated in his family.

Now in The Mezzanine, Howie is a lot different from Gregor. Yes, they are both heavily involved in their work, but Howie seems to enjoy his more than Gregor. Every single aspect of work and his surrounding environment enthralls Howie to no end. He is fascinated by the way the capitalist system runs, and how efficient it can be, while Gregor, although he appreciates the system at times, feels that it is demanding and exhausting. Although Gregor and Howie may seem like similar people from the outside, when you analyze their true, inner thoughts and feelings, Howie is more accepting of the system, whereas Gregor is forced to tolerate it until he can supposedly break away and be free.

Now we get to Emmet, the seemingly perfect Lego construction worker. In the beginning of the movie, Emmet’s mind had been totally brainwashed by Lord Business and his corrupt administration. He is a man (lego) who follows the rules and doesn’t complain. Supposedly, he’s “normal”; the most normal lego man one could know. He wakes up every morning by saying “good morning” and then follows instructions on how to “fit in, have everyone like you, and always be happy.” Emmet follows the instructions to fit in so well, that people don’t even notice him. He is entirely invisible to the people who are around him, making him seem totally alone and unwanted.

These three characters show what happens when a character is sucked in by the capitalist system. Although Howie’s view in more positive, we definitely get a sense that he doesn’t voice his true opinions out loud, making him seem relatively normal to those around him. Whereas Emmet yells that everything in President Business’ system is awesome. Because of this, Emmet is a social outcast. If Howie would also voice his true thoughts and feelings, I assume he would also be a less popular figure to converse with. (It makes me wonder how he has a partner...but I suppose there’s always someone for everyone). Gregor, on the other hand, is a case where, on the outside, he appears to be loving life in the system like Emmet. But deep down, he’s in pain. He is trapped by his own work and personal obligations and is therefore unhappy with his life. He isn’t able to thinking positively like Howie because of how much he realizes that the system has robbed him of a truly happy life.

So basically, these three characters represent the three perspectives in a controlling capitalist system. One of side of the spectrum, you have Emmet, who has been brainwashed by the leaders to follow instructions on how to live one’s life. Because he openly voices his satisfaction with these set rules, he is an outcast and forgotten worker in the Lego world. And then we have Howie, who also loves the system, but doesn’t voice it. He has picked up on social cues and knows what is acceptable to say and what isn’t. In a way, he has found a way to beat the system and stay happy. Good for you, Howie. And then on the other side, we have Gregor, who only voices his satisfaction with the system so he can provide for his family, but deep down inside, he is unhappy and wishes to be free. So I suppose everything is only awesome for Howie; the other two men must find other ways to truly be happy and free (and if you watch The Lego Movie, you will find how Emmet learns to find true happiness and acceptance).

Voices Behind Closed Doors

One aspect of Gregor Samsa’s life that has really stuck with/ bothered me is his door situation. One morning, Gregor finds himself mysteriously transformed into a bug, and to make matters worse, he’s overslept his alarm and missed the train for work! As if Gregor isn’t perturbed about this enough, his mother, father, and sister all have to chime in and remind him of his tardiness...all from different doors! His father knocks on the door to one of his sides with his fist, seemingly very angry, his sister whispers through the other side door, pleading Gregor to get up, and his mother is calling through the door at the head of Gregor’s bed. The image of these three voices all circling around Gregor’s head, demanding why he has yet to get up for work, is a daunting, nightmarish image.  I don’t think I could think clearly if I had people talking to me on three different sides, all with different emotions.

When reading this, the first thing that came to my mind was Janus, the Roman god of beginnings and transitions. Although some aspects of Janus don’t correlate with Gregor’s situation, Janus is also seen as the depiction of war and peace, which seems to correlate with Gregor’s life. From the first section, it seems like there are two different family dynamics in Gregor’s household. There’s is the stern father who is concerned with the financial situation of the family, and so he is very angry when Gregor misses the train to work. (Since Gregor is the family’s main source of income). Then there is Gregor’s sister who is seemingly the calm, peaceful character in the Samsa household. When his family realizes that Gregor has missed the train to work, his sister comes to one of the doors on the side, whispering “Gregor? Is something the matter with you? Do you want anything?...Gregor, open up, I’m pleading with you” (Kafka 6). Gregor’s sister doesn’t want the house to turn into a war zone over his work situation, and so she pleads for him to get up so the father (or the boss) doesn’t come storming in. She is aware that, since Gregor seems to be the main source of income for the family, huge conflicts will arise if Gregor doesn’t get on the train to work. She tries to conserve this almost peaceful morning but to no avail.

As if having three doors in one’s room isn’t enough, begin accompanied by three different voices is even worse. (Gregor’s mother’s voice is sort of the medium between his father and sister. She isn’t as understanding as the sister, but she also isn’t angry like the father). It’s no wonder why Gregor locks his doors every night so he can at least keep a wall in between him and the people around him. It’s almost like he’s trying to conserve his identity, not aware that the capitalist system has almost robbed him of it completely. Maybe Gregor should just remove two of the doors (or move out) so he doesn’t have to deal with the surrounding, conflicting voices that surround his head while he lays in his bed.

DISCLAIMER: I wrote this blogpost before we read section 2 of the book. After reading section 2, my opinions have semi-changed, but I do think there is some reference to Janus in Gregor’s room situation.

Trapped.

DISCLAIMER: My book is a different edition than the one used in class, so my page numbers are probably totally out of sync with most of yours. If you have the Bantam Classic translation, you’re in luck. If not, sorry for the inconvenience.

DISCLAIMER (pt. 2): This blog post is very scattered because I felt like I should just write down my initial reactions to the first section of the book. Most of my thoughts aren’t very coherent. Sorry, again, for the inconvenience.

Although we have only finished the first part of The Metamorphosis, I still find myself drawing little conclusions from the limited information given to us by Gregor Samsa, the protagonist who finds himself suddenly “insect-a-fied” one morning. “When Gregor Samsa woke up one morning from unsettling dreams, he found himself changed in his bed into a monstrous vermin” (Kafka 3). Being the first sentence of the book, we aren’t given any explanation as to why Gregory has been transformed into an insect, or even how, for that matter. We just know that one day he was a human, and now he’s a giant insect. Because of this sudden transformation, we never get to know the “human” Gregor Samsa, only his insect character. Although we could possibly assume that, on the inside, both versions of Gregory are the same, but, on the other hand, his personality could have also gone through a metamorphosis. He could have become a complete insect, inside out.

Surprisingly, insect Gregor is very accepting of his new external appearance. He does contemplate, “what has happened to me?” (Kafka 3), but then accepts his new body and moves on. Because of this, Gregor’s metamorphosis just seems to reasonable and believable. He presents it as a simple fact, something that could happen to any one of us, and so his situation seems practical, even though it crosses the boundaries of realism.

But after Gregor realizes that he’s a bug and there’s nothing he can do about it, his mind drifts to work. Gregor’s work situation seems to be very stressful since he can’t quit and be “free” because he has to pay off his father’s debt. “Well, I haven’t given up hope completely; once I’ve gotten the money together to pay off my parents’ debt to him--that will probably take another five or six years--I’m going to do it without fail. Then I’m going to make the big break. But for the time being I’d better get up, since my train leaves at five” (Kafka 4). Gregor has been trapped in this prison by his boss and family. He can’t leave and do what he actually wants to do with his life. He must stay and support his family, even though his work isn’t enjoyable.

Through this, it seems as if Gregor’s only goal is to earn the approval of his father. The debt that his father has is only what Gregor tells himself so he can accept the fact that he is trapped. What he really wants is to show his father that he can do things right. His mind seems almost similar that that of an adolescent, even though he is a fully grown, working man. He lives his life in order to please his father, seemingly trying to be the center of attention. (Although this kind of situation also occurs in the adult world as well).

It will be interesting to see how Gregor Samsa will continue in his new life as an insect. Obviously, it will be hard for him to be a successful traveling salesman while he is stuck in bug-form. I wonder if he will have a coming of age moment some time in the book and realize that, in order to achieve true happiness, he’ll have to find something that he enjoys, which may mean defying his father’s wishes in the end.

Relaxation at its Finest

After the conclusion of panel presentations this week, one idea has really stuck with me through the weekend: Jake’s idea of unwinding in contrast with the other characters in The Sun Also Rises. In Mehul’s, Daniel’s, and Henry’s panel presentation, they talked about how Jake has developed throughout the book by dealing with his own self-acceptance. The way Jake is able to find “therapeutic leisure activities” when he is alone, and is therefore to able to contemplate what the meaning of his life has been so far, is very different than how Brett or Mike choose to unwind.

Brett and Mike have been very similar up until the end of the book. (Which is why I guess that they make a good “couple”, whatever that means for Brett). They both reverted to socializing and alcohol in order to solve their problems. Mike is bankrupt, and so he chooses to get drunk in order to forget all of his problems. He isn’t one to face his own problems head on, and so he brushes them aside. But, as Jake notes, Mike is a bad drunk; he gets angry, obnoxious, and intolerable to those around him. When Jake is talking to Romero and the critics about bull fighting, a topic that Jake seems to be an expert in, Mike keeps trying to chime in with his drunken remarks. “Tell him that bulls have no balls,” to which Jake can only tell Romero and the critics that he is drunk, and then proceeds to say, “Pipe down, Mike” (Hemingway 180). Mike is embarrassing Jake in front of his own crowd, his kind of people. Although Jake may call Mike, Bill, and Brett his friends, they aren’t his true friends because they don’t understand Jake’s aficionado for bull fighting. As seen in Paris, when with his “friends”, Jake seems to fade into the background because he is seemingly uninterested in their drunken antics. Although Jake does drink, he doesn’t do it to cloud his emotions and forget reality. Rather, he does it to fit in because it’s the social convention, and it’s what Brett is doing. But when Jake is in Spain, he feels more at home than in Paris. He can speak with people of his kind (even in Spanish) who share his passion for bull fighting. Because of this, Jake has the confidence to push forward and lead conversations. He feels able to show off his knowledge of bull fighting and how he and his aficionado help him connect with the people of Pamplona. Spain is the place where we see Jake most confident and seemingly himself; he doesn’t have to pretend to be anyone else because he’s at a place where he belongs.

Now Brett also uses socializing and alcohol to hide away from her problems, but she is not entirely like Mike. Brett tends to take socializing to a whole different level. She enjoys the freedom of her apparent open relationship with Mike and therefore proceeds to have little side relationships with the men she meets throughout the book: First the Count, although their relationship isn’t sexual, then Cohn, and then Romero. Brett also chooses to seek counseling from Jake throughout her relationships, even though she knows that he still has feelings for her. But even as Brett surrounds herself with people who she can drink and seemingly have a good time with, in the end, she feels empty inside, like her life has yet to have meaning. She realizes the fault in her ways of hooking of with men and then breaking their hearts. “I’m not going to be one of these bitches who ruins children” (Hemingway 247). She decides to quit getting drunk and focus on her life and surround herself with people that will stay with her and vice versa.

Jake on the other hand, although he finds a lot of confidence in peace in Pamplona with his crowd, it is ruined at the end, and so he find another place of solace in the waters of San Sebastian. “I undressed in one of the bath-cabins, crossed the narrow line of beach and went into the water. I swam out, trying to swim through the rollers, but having to dive sometimes. Then in the quiet water I turned and floated. Floating I saw only the sky and felt the drop and lift of the swells…the water was buoyant and cold. It felt as though you could never sink” (Hemingway 241). When Jake is with his “friends”, he always sinks to the background. But when he is alone, Jake finds that he can think clearly. He doesn’t sink; he floats, and is able to evaluate his life clearly. Even when Jake is alone in his room in Pamplona, he feels relaxed and able to unwind. “The country became very clear and the feeling of pressure in [his] head seemed to loosen” (Hemingway 151). Although Jake enjoys the company of friends (Brett, Bill, Mike, and the bull fighter community (Cohn is pushing it)), he is never able to truly unwind until he is alone, where he doesn’t have to pretend to be someone else; he can be himself, a self of which he can accept and enjoy.

Through these different methods of relaxation and “therapeutic leisure activities”, it can be seen that Jake’s method of alone self-evaluation seems to be the most effective. Although Brett and Mike try to unwind by forgetting and moving on, as seen by Jake, it can sometimes help if one takes a moment to dwell and resolve the past in order to see a clear path moving forward. Now, not all of Jake’s problems have been solved from that one swim session (two I suppose), but from the end scene, one can see that Jake is not returned to Paris as the same man he was before. Hopefully Jake will be able to find someone, possibly Brett or someone else, that will bring him true happiness and positive company because boy does he deserve it.