Brain Drain

Archive for February, 2007

Margaret Oliphant, in her novel Miss Marjoribanks, uses the seasons and external spaces to indicate the status of Lucilla Marjoribanks’ social influence. At the age of nineteen, Lucilla enters Carlingford and crafts it into the social sphere of her desire. Her own thriving garden, in what appears to be summer by its established lawn and shrubs, represents her full sense of social influence over her newly formed society. The initial wane of her influence is suggested through the imagery of Mrs. Mortimer’s garden as fall approaches. Lucilla’s complete social dormancy is represented by the encroachment of winter as she mourns her father’s death. When she is once again feeling ambitious, summer has returned and she is ready to nurture the entire village at Marchbanks into new growth. While these seasonal settings are not representative of a chronological year, they are strategically placed to represent the seasons of Lucilla’s life as she experiences it.

Lucilla’s initial abilities as Carlingford’s social leader are evident in Oliphant’s garden imagery early in the novel:

By this time the garden was full of pretty figures and pleasant voices, and under the lime tree there was a glimmer of yellow light from the lamps, and on the other side the moon was coming up steadily like a ball of silver over the dark outlines of Carlingford; and even the two voices which swelled forth up-stairs in the fullest accord, betraying nothing personal sentiments of their owners, were not more agreeable to hear than the rustle and murmur of sound which rose all over Dr. Marjoribanks’ lawn and pretty shrubbery. (134)

This seamless integration of society and nature illustrate Lucilla’s “natural ability” to mold the constructs of her social sphere. Lucilla’s planned concentration of light under the lime tree is significant because the lime tree is traditionally known to possess protective power against evil and catastrophe. Symbolically, Lucilla uses this to thwart the threat posed by Cavendish as he diverts his attention from Lucilla to Barbara. Lucilla’s name itself means light and her far reaching impact is represented by the moon rising over the dark outlines and people of Carlingford. Her voice too is likened to the murmur of a breeze over the lawn and shrubs, blending with Barbara’s in a sweet melody that speaks of her control over her passions. She is seen mingling with all including Barbara, a perceived enemy, without faltering. Each of these garden details illustrates how Lucilla is at the peak of influential power at the beginning of the novel.

Approaching the time of fall, when the harvest is nearly ripe, the garden Lucilla creates for Mrs. Mortimer’s school yard appears withered and broken much like Lucilla’s image of herself:

Miss Marjoribanks could not help observing that the branches of the pear-tree, which was that the garden contained in the shape of fruit, had come loose from the wall, and were swaying about greatly to the damage of the half grown pears … it is astonishing how many little things go wrong when the man or woman with a hundred eyes is absent for a few days from the helm of affairs … the espalier had got detached, some of the verbenas were dead in the borders, and the half of the sticks that propped up the dahlias had fallen, leaving the plants in miserable confusion. (203)

In this passage Oliphant suggests the wane of Lucilla’s influence. This garden is significant because Lucilla creates it in attempt to both manage and establishing Mrs. Mortimer in Carlingford. Leaving the garden to the attention of anybody but herself, a woman with a hundred eyes, has had a disintegrating effect. This line reveals that only Lucilla can keep an eye in every direction but she has been absent from this space. The pear-tree is particularly telling because it traditionally represents lust and desire which, like Lucilla’s love interest, is damaged and bruised. The pears are merely half formed, meaning that Lucilla’s lust for the Archdeacon is not fully realized when he abandons her company to speak with Mrs. Mortimer. Lucilla’s immediate thought in response is to perform the job of garden maintenance, tying up the pears and dismantling the confusion of the plants. With this she seeks to find the secret connection behind Mrs. Mortimer and the Archdeacon. Essentially, when forces beyond the reach of Lucilla’s influence take their toll, she might temporarily lose control, yet she does eventually maintain it.

The encroachment of the snow on the night of her father’s death suggests Lucilla’s pending dormancy:

Meantime, the snow fell heavily outside, and wrapped everything in a soft and secret whiteness. And amid the whiteness and darkness, the lamp burned steadily outside at the garden-gate … that night the snow cushioned the wire outside, and even made white cornices and columns about the steady lamp, and the Doctor slept within. (396)

This illustrates how the beginning of Lucilla’s dormant and mourning state affects not only her, but the town as well. The snow falling around the house also falls around the whole of Carlingford. Thursday evenings are about to be suspended The Doctor’s bell is silenced as the snow cushions the wire, telling that he is dead. At the same time, the light burning at the garden-gate is slowly dimmed by stacking flakes, just as darkening circumstances are about to stack up against Lucilla. Still, as the light in the lantern never goes out, Lucilla continues to illuminate her space from within the house.

When Lucilla reaches her new peak of ambition, fueled by her marriage to Tom, summer has returned once more.

… the sight of the village at Marchbank was sweet to her eyes … It occupied a great deal more than the gardens did … Lucilla’s eye went out over the moral wilderness with the practical glance of a statesman, and at the same time, the sanguine enthusiasm of a philanthropist. She saw of what it was capable, and already, in imagination, the desert blossomed like a rose before he beneficent steps, and the sweet sense of well doing rose in her breast. (494)

While Tom takes on the actual gardens of Marchbank, Lucilla envisions the influence of her illumination on all of Marchbank village. In the moral wilderness, she sees an untamed society barren of social skills, waiting to be formed by her masterful hand. She sees the desert blossom like a rose at her feet, just as she believes the less fortunate will gratefully bloom before her with her assistance. As she did at Carlingford ten years prior, she can imagine the possibilities for the people here and she has every intention of bringing their new society to fruition. This challenge requires more skill than she exerted in Carlingford because the social landscape has never been primed as it was there. Through this hopeful vision, we are led to believe that if Lucilla can imagine it, she can achieve it. Summer will bloom under her authority.

Oliphant’s use of seasons and space indicates more than Lucilla Marjoribanks’ social influence. In each instance, it becomes obvious that Lucilla, regardless of her situation, is never fully defeated. Cavendish’s betrayal has little impact as her ability to rise above is represented with thriving garden-scapes. Mrs. Mortimer’s garden reveals a stumbling block and nothing more, for when the Archdeacon abandons her for Mrs. Mortimer, Lucilla simply talks of maintaining her power and dismantling the confusion. In the face of her father’s death, Lucilla’s light is dim and dormant under the snow but it never goes out. In the end, she is rejuvenated and ready for an entirely new project beyond her accomplishments in Carlingford. Her constant triumph reveals that she will likely succeed as she tends to her goals at Marchbank.

Works Cited

Oliphant, Margaret. Miss Marjoribanks. New York: Penguin Books, 1988.

Margaret Oliphant, in her novel Miss Marjoribanks, uses the seasons and external spaces to indicate the status of Lucilla Marjoribanks’ social influence. At the age of nineteen, Lucilla enters Carlingford and crafts it into the social sphere of her desire. Her own thriving garden, in what appears to be summer by its established lawn and shrubs, represents her full sense of social influence over her newly formed society. The initial wane of her influence is suggested through the imagery of Mrs. Mortimer’s garden as fall approaches. Lucilla’s complete social dormancy is represented by the encroachment of winter as she mourns her father’s death. When she is once again feeling ambitious, summer has returned and she is ready to nurture the entire village at Marchbanks into new growth. While these seasonal settings are not representative of a chronological year, they are strategically placed to represent the seasons of Lucilla’s life as she experiences it.

Lucilla’s initial abilities as Carlingford’s social leader are evident in Oliphant’s garden imagery early in the novel:

By this time the garden was full of pretty figures and pleasant voices, and under the lime tree there was a glimmer of yellow light from the lamps, and on the other side the moon was coming up steadily like a ball of silver over the dark outlines of Carlingford; and even the two voices which swelled forth up-stairs in the fullest accord, betraying nothing personal sentiments of their owners, were not more agreeable to hear than the rustle and murmur of sound which rose all over Dr. Marjoribanks’ lawn and pretty shrubbery. (134)

This seamless integration of society and nature illustrate Lucilla’s “natural ability” to mold the constructs of her social sphere. Lucilla’s planned concentration of light under the lime tree is significant because the lime tree is traditionally known to possess protective power against evil and catastrophe. Symbolically, Lucilla uses this to thwart the threat posed by Cavendish as he diverts his attention from Lucilla to Barbara. Lucilla’s name itself means light and her far reaching impact is represented by the moon rising over the dark outlines and people of Carlingford. Her voice too is likened to the murmur of a breeze over the lawn and shrubs, blending with Barbara’s in a sweet melody that speaks of her control over her passions. She is seen mingling with all including Barbara, a perceived enemy, without faltering. Each of these garden details illustrates how Lucilla is at the peak of influential power at the beginning of the novel.

Approaching the time of fall, when the harvest is nearly ripe, the garden Lucilla creates for Mrs. Mortimer’s school yard appears withered and broken much like Lucilla’s image of herself:

Miss Marjoribanks could not help observing that the branches of the pear-tree, which was that the garden contained in the shape of fruit, had come loose from the wall, and were swaying about greatly to the damage of the half grown pears … it is astonishing how many little things go wrong when the man or woman with a hundred eyes is absent for a few days from the helm of affairs … the espalier had got detached, some of the verbenas were dead in the borders, and the half of the sticks that propped up the dahlias had fallen, leaving the plants in miserable confusion. (203)

In this passage Oliphant suggests the wane of Lucilla’s influence. This garden is significant because Lucilla creates it in attempt to both manage and establishing Mrs. Mortimer in Carlingford. Leaving the garden to the attention of anybody but herself, a woman with a hundred eyes, has had a disintegrating effect. This line reveals that only Lucilla can keep an eye in every direction but she has been absent from this space. The pear-tree is particularly telling because it traditionally represents lust and desire which, like Lucilla’s love interest, is damaged and bruised. The pears are merely half formed, meaning that Lucilla’s lust for the Archdeacon is not fully realized when he abandons her company to speak with Mrs. Mortimer. Lucilla’s immediate thought in response is to perform the job of garden maintenance, tying up the pears and dismantling the confusion of the plants. With this she seeks to find the secret connection behind Mrs. Mortimer and the Archdeacon. Essentially, when forces beyond the reach of Lucilla’s influence take their toll, she might temporarily lose control, yet she does eventually maintain it.

The encroachment of the snow on the night of her father’s death suggests Lucilla’s pending dormancy:

Meantime, the snow fell heavily outside, and wrapped everything in a soft and secret whiteness. And amid the whiteness and darkness, the lamp burned steadily outside at the garden-gate … that night the snow cushioned the wire outside, and even made white cornices and columns about the steady lamp, and the Doctor slept within. (396)

This illustrates how the beginning of Lucilla’s dormant and mourning state affects not only her, but the town as well. The snow falling around the house also falls around the whole of Carlingford. Thursday evenings are about to be suspended The Doctor’s bell is silenced as the snow cushions the wire, telling that he is dead. At the same time, the light burning at the garden-gate is slowly dimmed by stacking flakes, just as darkening circumstances are about to stack up against Lucilla. Still, as the light in the lantern never goes out, Lucilla continues to illuminate her space from within the house.

When Lucilla reaches her new peak of ambition, fueled by her marriage to Tom, summer has returned once more.

… the sight of the village at Marchbank was sweet to her eyes … It occupied a great deal more than the gardens did … Lucilla’s eye went out over the moral wilderness with the practical glance of a statesman, and at the same time, the sanguine enthusiasm of a philanthropist. She saw of what it was capable, and already, in imagination, the desert blossomed like a rose before he beneficent steps, and the sweet sense of well doing rose in her breast. (494)

While Tom takes on the actual gardens of Marchbank, Lucilla envisions the influence of her illumination on all of Marchbank village. In the moral wilderness, she sees an untamed society barren of social skills, waiting to be formed by her masterful hand. She sees the desert blossom like a rose at her feet, just as she believes the less fortunate will gratefully bloom before her with her assistance. As she did at Carlingford ten years prior, she can imagine the possibilities for the people here and she has every intention of bringing their new society to fruition. This challenge requires more skill than she exerted in Carlingford because the social landscape has never been primed as it was there. Through this hopeful vision, we are led to believe that if Lucilla can imagine it, she can achieve it. Summer will bloom under her authority.

Oliphant’s use of seasons and space indicates more than Lucilla Marjoribanks’ social influence. In each instance, it becomes obvious that Lucilla, regardless of her situation, is never fully defeated. Cavendish’s betrayal has little impact as her ability to rise above is represented with thriving garden-scapes. Mrs. Mortimer’s garden reveals a stumbling block and nothing more, for when the Archdeacon abandons her for Mrs. Mortimer, Lucilla simply talks of maintaining her power and dismantling the confusion. In the face of her father’s death, Lucilla’s light is dim and dormant under the snow but it never goes out. In the end, she is rejuvenated and ready for an entirely new project beyond her accomplishments in Carlingford. Her constant triumph reveals that she will likely succeed as she tends to her goals at Marchbank.

Works Cited

Oliphant, Margaret. Miss Marjoribanks. New York: Penguin Books, 1988.

CONJUNCTION JUNCTION: WHAT’S YOUR FUNCTION?

A Modern Day Rubinesque Example:
Kim Gritzke AND Tim Clune Get Married 
Yes, the historical derivation of gender exists. We all have been molded to live it. Then you get married and things become more surreal than you ever expect.

Gayle Rubin’s The Traffic in Women: Notes on the ‘Political Economy’ of Sex made me better understand Jacques Derrida. She mentioned him but briefly, yet I saw the cultural baggage we unintentionally carry in conjunction with examination of the role women occupy in society. This was profound for me. I was suddenly struck by how I’ve lived both theories without knowing. I teased this stuff out, finding meaning outside the text… or, in this case, ritual.

FEMALE EXCHANGE RATE
My father walked me down the aisle, “giving me away.” I didn’t think it was so applicable. I was LONG gone years before I ever got married. I consciously turned this event into my own liberation rather than exchange, and thus could accept the idea. I was walking away from my father – although that assumes he had me to begin with. When I look closely at how things panned out, nobody else was outwardly jumping on board my liberation train.

Linking Rubin’s idea to Louis Althussar’s, I learned that although I “thought” I was making a statement of individuality as a woman, declaring my own meaning for the father/daughter ritual, I was simply perpetuating the Ideological State Apparatus by including it in my ceremony to begin with.

IDENTITY – AS PROPERTY?
The idea of “name change” illustrates Rubin’s theory that, although the gender roles no longer serve the purpose they once did, we still keep them firmly in place without examination or challange. From my grandparents’ generation to present, patterns of social/tribal/genealogical alignment are difficult to reform, lacking any value of individual recognition.

I symbolically took my husband’s last name, not as a sign of his ownership over me, but to consiously break with my crappy past and redefine who I am on my own terms. Tim was all for me keeping my maiden name… In fact, he tried to talk me into it. But, hey, what the hell do you do with Gritzke anyway? So, there’s my spiel.

Still, wedding cards and gifts came addressed to Mr. and Mrs. Timothy Clune. My name ends with “im” but it starts with a big fat K, thank you very much. Unifying our last names to form our family unit is fine. Being assimilated into my husband’s identity? That’s not okay with either of us. Really. 

ALLIANCE/SOCIAL CONNECTION
Then there’s the family perception. My family wreaked of odoriferous abandonment, somehow embracing the thought that I had left the nest. Tim’s family immediately assumed ownership over me. His sisters adopted me into their recipe circle, his father and brothers welcomed me into the family with only mild recognition that I had my own. When my side was mentioned, it was also joining theirs, not the other way around. His brothers, as best men, toasted my grand entrance into their tribe with, “Let me introduce the other side to what is so special about our side of the family.” Hurm.

SIGN OF THE WOMAN
As Ferdinand de Saussure says, the value of a sign (woman/wife) is accepted by society, not an individual. I was struck with the implications of something so ritualized as a wedding. We lose sight of what the acts mean. We see them so often that we forget to question. You can try to make things mean what you like, changing the”sign” to suit yourself, but society/family asserts their definition anyway and you must defend and redefine yourself repeatedly. Derrida is right. Intended meaning brings along baggage of social construct, often without any awareness of it’s insertion.

The effect of marriage on your identity is not for the feint of heart. It is a topic rarely talked about. People always ask, “When are you getting married? Where? What kind of dress?” They focus more on the event than the impact, never asking, “How do you feel about this? What does it mean about who you are? What does being a wife entail?” The older generation of women is particularly eager to give you some odd advice about having dinner ready and doing laundry. I warn you now… Hold true to yourself. Think about what it is YOU want from marriage.

RUG-RAT REPRODUCTION
Okay, and now I come to the whole reproduction issue. Tim and I aren’t going to have kids. This realization came much to the dismay of several family members. When we recently received our wedding video, we found we had been cursed with a wish for triplets upon our house. Really, particularly after reading Rubin’s theory, why would we submit our daughter – let alone three of them -  to such a society just so she can become an economic commodity of culture and capitalism? There is this inherent idea that one must have children to further human existence, perpetuating the machine that reproduces the effect to infinity. We’re not buying it. Over and out.

SUGGESTED READING
Copies of Rubin’s theory for everybody! Revolution abound!
I agree that culture needs a good toppling and that nothing will change without opposition. People need shaking up. Maybe it needs to be sudden, as in ”Let the dead monster fall.”

Women have been fighting and winning, slowly but surely. Changes are occurring in my lifetime alone. Most of my friends have kept their maiden names. The acceptance of women as individuals in that regard is far more prevalent than 20 years ago. Once the previous generations die off, maybe there won’t be any more Mrs. Tim Clunes.

As for the acceptance of equal gender power, patriarchal religion would have to go. I can’t see it happening any other way.

So…
Topple culture!
Give birth to a new brain child!!
Equality and free love for all!!!

WHY DO PEOPLE KEEP SHITTY JOBS?
Louis Althusser has the situation pegged. The (repressive) State Apparatus keeps things status quo because they can beat you into submission with their repression ‘machine.’ Ideological forces lead us to believe we have a choice even though they dictate the social norm. All this exists in an effort to ensure reproduction of labor power for the capitalists. “Relations of exploitation” contributing “generously to its own reproduction” (1492).

Damn, I want to quit and I don’t even have a job! That’s it. I’M NEVER GOING TO WORK AGAIN.

IDEOLOGY IN PROGRESS
I saw the perfect ideological example in the documentary, The Myth of the Liberal Media. Noam Chomsky said that journalists are groomed in school to churn out information in a particular format after years of conformist instruction at Universities across the nation. When they enter the work force, they don’t have the freedom to write what they wish, although they believe they will. Instead, they must honor the capitalist machine, careful not to offend advertisers or people with connections to the boss. Each of these outside influences are considered filters on our media, preventing truth from being told.

The film describes a journalist who investigates and writes an article about the lack of “trustworthy” used car salesmen in the area. He caught several in lies. When the article went to print, the newspaper lost thousands in advertising per day. Since used car lots provided the bulk of the paper’s advertising revenue, they had pulled out in protest until the paper wrote a retraction. When the paper rescinded it’s backing of the article, did it mean the salesmen were any less snakey? Obviously not. But the ideological pressure to conform was surely present for the journalist.

BACK TO ALTHUSSER
The intricasies of the dance between repressive and ideological State Apparatuses is intense. They are completely reciprocal. The RSA exists in the public legal realm, is unified, can survive shifts of power in government, and functions first by repression/violence and secondarily by ideology. The ISA exists in the private sector, is plural (although unified beneath the ruling ideology), and function first by ideology and secondarily by force…

Land of the free, huh? Who are we kidding. We can’t even up minimum wage without giving CEOs a tax break because THEY drive our capitalistic society and want to KEEP US DOWN. (<-She said with a morning voice that resembles Rorschach’s.)

BEATING THE SYSTEM
That’s it. I have to quit school. And I’ll protect my kids from the oppression of kindergarten by not having any. Not that I was going to anyway… 

(Well, I was – until I spent a week with my husband’s family of 26 for Christmas. The two year old screamed, “No!” The 11 year old asked “Why?” THe 5 year old beat up the 6 year old, and the 19 year old tried to hop in the 24 year old’s car for hard night of drinking.)

My husband just walked by my office. I yelled, “Honey, I’M A MARXIST!! This stuff is everything I bitch about: standardized testing , the administration… and … and… It’s one more we reason we shouldn’t have kids!”

The only reply is the sound of his shower water flowing down the drain.

I’M NOT DEAD YET! RUN AWAY!
If ideology is socially constructed, a dream, pure illusion, why don’t we, as a human race, envision better for ourselves? Must the greedy bad guys always win?

All in all, I’m ready to run off to my own island and govern it the way I see fit, just like the Bates’ family on Sealand. It went up for sale a few months ago for $998 Mil. This is my kind of situation… If only it had the land it sports in it’s name. I know, I’ll dream some up.

Questions up for debate:

1.) Which candidate do you (not the people of Carlingford) think is better for Parliament, Mr. Ashburton or Mr. Cavendish? Why?
- Dr. Marjoribanks wrestles with his opinion (353 bottom)
- Colonel Chiley’s opinion (364 middle)
- Lucilla’s opinion of Mr. A in social circles (365 middle)
- Summary of both candidates (371 all)
- Mr. Centrum’s conversation with Cavendish (384 bottom-385 top-middle)

2.) Did Dr. Marjoribanks suspect he was going to die so soon, or was he simply reminded of the fact that the end eventually comes via Mrs. Chiley’s health and his worry for Lucilla?
- Dr. M and Lucilla discuss Mrs. Chiley’s health (391 top)
- Dr. M suggests Lucilla marries (392 middle to bottom)
- Mention of change/”next morning” reference (393 top)
- Lucilla talks with lawyer John Brown (408 bottom – 409 top)

3.) Although they can’t legally vote, do the women have influence over the outcome of the election? If yes, how? If no, why not?
- Lucilla: Mr. Ashburton’s campaign manager (341 middle)
- Does a “woman’s touch” matter? (342 middle, 355 middle)
- Spin Doctor (362 middle, 363 top, 369 top, 372 bottom, )
- Social talent a plus (367 top)
- The last word on politics (394 middle)

4.) Will Lucilla live a “single woman’s life” successfully at her father’s house? What details support your theory?
- Aunt Jemima’s practicality (413 bottom half)
- Public opinion (417 top half)
- The first declaration (not solely) of independence (420 middle)
- Consider the House (420 bottom)
- Curbing Nancy (424 bottom)

I won’t be submitting this as the “best blog post ever.” I’m on hyper drive… must sleep.

 Book X, 8-9: Ozy, Nite Owl and Rorschach are all watching the world, trying to find “patterns,” order and structure. Ozy does it to turn a profit but he’s supposed to the be the smartest. I guess it makes you wonder how smart he is if the world is going to collapse as he knows it and money probably won’t matter. The other two misfits seems to get the bigger picture. The difference between Nite Owl and Rorschach is that Rorschach has the most organic approach – hands on.

Book X, 8-9:  Aren’t they just a couple of warm and fuzzy guys.

Book X, 12-13: Apocalyptic view of comic book of two (not four) horses and reference to Doomsday in Book of “Revolutions”…
The hands on the clock go
round and round
round and round
round and round
the hands on the clock go….
Tick.
Tock.
Boom.

Book X, 20: “Egyptian decor coloring logic” for Rorschach. Past has no place in present and future? Hinders progress perhaps? Reminder of death undisturbed. Not working here concerning murder. Distrust of fascination with relics.

Book X, 20: Veidt. That prick! Rorschach unsure about ass kicking abilities when knowledge is power.

Book X, 20: Journal irony. Buried under junk mail avalanche. Dumbass. READ IT!

Book X, 26: Nite Owl and Rorschach have a snow day! Not horses, but there are two of them riding toward an end. Hurm.

Book X, scrapbook: Veidt - IS he what capitalism comes to? All or nothing marketing schemes based on war? Oh yeah, Iraq. Say no more, say no more. As for the Veidt Method, the dude talks about spiritual disciplines – Hurm.

Book XI, XII, XIII – will have to wait til morning. Oh. It IS morning. Scratching my watch and winding my ass – so tired. 

WATCHMENESQUE INTRO:
The English department is trying to break me and they’re about to succeed. I’m really goddamn tired… tired of the high-gloss, quick-pick course designs where nothing is allowed to penetrate in depth before we’re jerked off down some new path. The tub is taking on water and it’s all just spilling over the side today. For that, I am pissed. It’s time for a warm bath… and maybe a razor blade.

And with that dramatic introduction, I offer my fully unformed and meandering thoughts on Watchmen…

REALITY REDEFINED:
What is real? Humanity seems destined to confinement within a predisposed genetic identity while we suffer from a past which offers us no control over our environment as children, for better or worse. These things have an impact on who we are, to be sure, but Watchmen demonstrates how “choice” also creates both our identity and our future. Rorschach and Nite Owl feel more comfortable in their costumes than they do within their own skin. Their alter-egos beg the question, is reality simply what is, or is it something we can define and redefine as we see fit? They believe the latter. Eventually, Dr. Manhattan does too.

Rorschach, perceived as a character played by Kovacs, becomes the reality. While avenging a child’s murder, Kovacs can’t stomach the sight after hacking the dogs that were eating the child’s bones. “It was Kovacs … who closed his eyes. It was Rorschach who opened them again” (VI, 21) From this point on, the internal shift to Rorschach is brought to life through outward appearance. Kovac’s natural face and clothes are no longer real. Taking his costume pieces from the alley, Rorschach says, “putting them on, I abandoned my disguise and became myself, free from fear or weakness or lust” (V, 18). Similarly, as the authorities remove his mask during his arrest, Rorschach says, “My face! Give it back!” (V, 28). The transformation eventually evolves full-on, seeming to require no mask. Because he creates his own reality, even his therapist calls him “Rorschach,” unwillingly and without the disguise. As Rorschach says, “Existence is random. Has no pattern save what we imagine after staring at it for too long” (VI,26). Rorschach is what Kovacs imagines for himself, and thus his existence becomes what he makes of it.

Like Kovacs, Dan is only able to fully experience his identity in costume. While seduced by Laurie, Dan can’t perform sexually, and not for lack of trying. Laurie pegs it when she says, “Y’know your trouble? You’re inhibited” (VII, 13). Once asleep, Dan fantasizes that Twilight Lady’s true identity is Laurie and Laurie reveals Dan’s true inner identity of Nite Owl by peeling back his skin. Only when their true inner identities are revealed do they experience their full sexuality… until they’re nuked (VII, 16). Later, the dynamic duo dresses up and performs a heroic act to find that dreams do come true. After heating things up to full-on flames, so to speak, Laurie asks, “Did the costumes make it good?” Nite Owl answers, “Yeah, I guess the costumes had something to do with it. It just feels strange, you know? To come out and admit that to somebody. To come out of the closet” (VII, 28). Admittedly, the Nite Owl costume is what allows Dan to experience his identity to the fullest, a reality unable to be achieved simply as Dan.

Jon brings Laurie to Mars to discuss his intervention with the possibility of nuclear war on Earth. According to him, the questions and answers are preordained but must be played out in time. Laurie accuses him of being “just a puppet following a script” (IX, 5). Jon replies, “We’re all puppets, Laurie. I’m just a puppet who can see the strings” (IX, 5). After a good old shot of Nostalgia shattered by reality, Laurie’s realization that the Comedian is her father persuades Jon to shift his own perception, to see that life isn’t meaningless. The random collision of circumstance and science that created Laurie’s life was nothing short of a miracle. Jon proclaims, “We gaze continually at the world and it grows dull in our perceptions. Yet, seen from another’s vantage point, as if new, it may still take the breath away” (IX, 27). Rather than an alter-ego, it is Laurie’s influence that alters reality, breaking from that which is predetermined.

The message throughout is hopeful. We all have the ability to create change by simply imagining the possibility. We have potential that needs only to be tapped by that imagination and freed from that which binds it. We are not emprisoned by our selected identity, but liberated by our chosen reality and our assertion within it. Taking on an alternate view gives us a more rounded picture of what truly exists. Now let’s all don our costumes and get out there!

WATCHMENESQUE OUTRO:
I plan to eat a bowl of alphabet soup, shove the can on my head, and tackle the English department of Saint Rose with a vengeance. In just this one week I’ll kick out the Theory Carnival, finish Watchmen, lead my student discussion in Brit Lit AND write the paper due Friday. For Tuesday, I’ll read those two chapters on how to write Flash Fiction, read ten sample stories AND write two of my own. I’ll take on Ezra Pound and all his image map allusions with one hand tied behind my back. And for Stress Management, I’ll put that fucking pedometer on my dog’s collar so I can bang out three miles of walking all from the comfort of this chair – which sports a permanent imprint of my ass. First, I might just hop in the hot tub… razor blade no longer required. Like my new action figure?

POST SCRIPT:
So, I’m driving home today (Wednesday, Feb 21) and can’t get this Alphabet Barbie image out of my head. I think I’m going mad. The term SOUPer hero flashes through my gray matter. I totally crack up. Probably not funny, right? Okay, it’s just me.

This assignment is interesting. I am not, nor have I ever been, a fan of comics, but I’m having fun seeing echoes of Jameson all over the place. I can even see a bit of Saussure and the French duo, Deleuze and Guatarri.

Like the reflective walls of LA’s Bonaventure Hotel, Watchmen reflects the genre in which it situates itself, and yet it is certainly not a direct representation. This is a comic book – kind of. The format, like all comic books which came before, comes complete with crime, super heroes and cartoon-like illustrations, yet Watchmen borrows this traditional form to create something new, a graphic novel (as in pictoral AND graphic in content). This gives whole new meaning to the recycling of comics.

I’m reminded of Jameson’s description of the Bonaventure’s confusing layout with entrances that aren’t clearly marked and with no directions within. Maybe it’s just that I’m new to the whole comic thing, but it took me some time to learn how to navigate through the narrative. In the traditional sense of reading from left to right, I could enter into the story, but I needed to allow the text to carry me through time (flashback with the actual use of a flash image) and space (the use of color to designate East coast, West coast, Vietnam and Mars). Like the Boneventure’s escalators and elevators, the text required me to be receptive and adapt to the space within the page.

This is where Saussure’s sign/signifier/signified theory comes in. While he spoke solely of speech, I learned a new visual language, one randomly assigned but accepted and understood by the comic community. Again, I’m reminded of how color represents place while images of flash bulbs and fireworks signal flashback. This only works if this is true of all comics. Perhaps the Super Man and Batman “Pow” is a better example of the sign we all know to signify a punch.

More directly associated with Sassure is the necessity for societal acceptance in the adaptation of language. Minuteman Hollis Mason in Under the Hood also talks about this happening in his lifetime when he says:

The arrival of Dr. Manhattan would make the terms “masked hero” and “costumed adventurer” as obsolete as the persons they described. A new phrase had entered the American language, just as a new and almost terrifying concept had entered its consciousness. It was the dawn of the Super-Hero” (Watchmen 13).

(Uh, do I credit Mason or Moore & Gibbons for this quote? I jest. Ah, the technicalities of a new form…)

To return to Jameson here, I have to ask – Are the super dudes parody or pastiche? I think parody, although Jameson would disagree. One thing is clear. These guys aren’t super heroes in the traditional sense. Most don’t have powers at all, except for the tall, blue freak. (I mean that in the nicest possible way.) These clowns (I mean that in the nicest possible way too) don’t even have morals to guide their mother-freaking mental ship. The Comedian is the ultimate satirical character. He isn’t funny and he doesn’t seem to find the world as funny as he says he does. His superbly f*&!ed up power is to rape a fellow super hero and shoot a pregnant woman carrying his child. Aside from the foulest of his transgressions, I think he’s an amusing character… but I’m kinda sick like that.

To recall Deleuze and Guattari’s rhizomes, this novel is certainly the organic orb to which the metaphor refers. There is a pulpy center called Watchmen. Off to one side is the offshoot of the Comedian’s journal. To the other, there is a comic book within a comic book. And somewhere left of center is Hollis Mason’s autobiography. This is no typical, traditional, linear representation.

Jameson would have a field day with the fact that Watchmen looks back to a non-existent social and political history. This brings us back to our discussion of capitalization on both the nostalgia and originality of a piece depending on the consumer’s generational perspective. If comics are for kids, and this is definitely not, does this idea still work? It seems that this book targets the same audience that was once interested in comics, although it targets them at an older age. And does Watchmen lose it’s comic critique in the face of the previously released Heavy Metal, an adult cartoon that similarly looks back on “future artifacts?” Does that make it pastiche – a dead language – something lacking indiviuality? I think yes. Sure, it won awards for what it accomplished, but so do pop songs and they’ve all been done before too.

(Got ID?)

HARK:
Postmodernism = Modernism flipped ass over tea cup. That which was of dominant importance in the 40’s and 50’s is now secondary, giving all those original underdog qualities renewed appreciation upfront and center.

I like the way Jameson refers to Gerty’s-got-her-groove-on Stein. In her manifesto, Composition Explained, she’s all about,

“The only thing that is different from one time to another is what is seen and what is seen depends on how everybody is doing it.”

Jameson agrees, and in fact borrows this idea which was written in 1926. Ooooh, the irony. In art, we still create representations of the same things we used to. The focus just shifts as we use new lenses to look at the same old, same old.

BEHOLD:
Modernism is like a Dadaist collage in that previous art is deconstructed and resynthesized into new art. Dadaism took art from the hands of masters and brought it to the people. As an original idea (in it’s day), this is parody.

What differs in postmodernism is that art is no longer out to change the world so much as to ”respect the vernacular of the American city fabric” (1968). This is pistiche, mimicing styles which are already dead. All the while, we look back with nostalgia to what has come before and try to recreate it with new tools.

TAKING IT FOR A SPIN:
So, to me, this sounds like the closed structure of Derrida, where one thing supplements another to make a whole new piece of art. The possibilities are as infinite as the combinations of coupling, yet the pieces to work with are limited. According to Jameson, we have reached a dead end in finding “the new” and must begin to reconstitue and recycle the old in new ways. Yes?

In my Saussure post, I unfairly present my cat, Kringle, as a flesh eating monster. I now offer you his softer side, “Derrida Style.” Decentralizing that singular murderous aspect, allowing for supplemental information, you can now arrive at a more accurate truth. Kringle actually has many sides. I can assure you that “centered” he is not. Enjoy!

This video has been monitored for Kitty Porn.

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