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.

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?