The Bell Jar Annotated Bibliography

“I wanted to tell her that if only something were wrong with my body it would be fine, I would rather have anything wrong with my body than have something wrong with my head.” — (182)

The Bell Jar is a novel by Sylvia Plath that follows the life of a young woman named Esther Greenwood as she is trying to find her place in society, while also battling against her deteriorating mental health. She starts off in New York at a conference for young women working for a magazine, where she begins to feel isolated from her peers and doubts her place in life. She wishes for a successful life doing the things she loves (like writing, travelling, and meeting new and interesting people), but also feels the pressure to want to be the ideal woman, as a housewife and mother. She fleetingly tries to explore romance while in New York, but nothing pans out before she returns home to live with her mother the rest of the summer. There, her mental health declines (especially after being rejected from an exclusive college writing class), until she stops eating, sleeping, or bathing entirely. She briefly starts seeing a therapist, who belittles her and doesn’t help her with her problems. After giving up treatment with him, Esther continues to try to find a purpose for herself, until her mental and social stagnation drives her into attempting suicide.

After being discovered, Esther is admitted into a hospital where her condition worsens. The doctors and nurses there are still improperly treating their patients, and treat them like frustrating children rather than adults who need help. This angers Esther, and she becomes stubborn and unresponsive almost as an act of rebellion. When she’s in danger of being put into an even worse hospital, she receives a saving grace: a novelist named Philomena Guinea who read about Esther’s case and wanted to help her get actual treatment for her problems. We see the first improvement when Esther is here, in a private facility that allows the women staying there a controlled amount of freedom and genuine support along with well-administered treatment, where most of the doctors are also women. Esther slowly improves, barring some setbacks, and for once she feels like she can breathe normally again. One of her roommates ends up being an old friend, Joan, who has had similar struggles to Esther’s. She seems to be improving even more than Esther, and is even released for a short time. Near the end of the book, however, Joan is readmitted and shortly after commits suicide.  The novel ends with Esther entering a meeting to determine if they believe she is well enough to leave the hospital.

Even from the beginning, we can feel Esther’s struggle with her identity. This in particular drew me in deeply to the mimetic register, as I related to Esther pretty heavily. I began “reading for” that relationship, and I grew attached to the character (who is said to be a semi-representation of Plath herself). It was difficult in this book to tap into the thematic or synthetic registers, as the themes and constructions become more evident once you experience the narrative as a whole.
However, upon finishing the book there are clear themes of mental illness and the treatment of those who are mentally ill, and the treatment of women in society. These also tie into different cultural codes– as will be discussed later. We can start to recognize the synthetic register more as well when Esther’s mental state worsens. The format of the story gets more fragmented and nonsensical, which we can see connects directly to Esther’s own perceptions and feelings. Even though this shift is tragic, we can recognize it and tune into the constructed nature of this story from there.
In our class, we examined Robert McKee’s controlling/counter idea theory from his book Substance, Structure, Style, and the Principles of Screenwriting which describes “how and why life undergoes change from one condition of existence at the beginning to another at the end” (115) and adapted it into a system of controlling and opposing controlling values. These values come to life when we consider the premise of any piece of media, and in this case the premise is something like “What happens when a girl tries to define her life between her personal identity and societal expectations?”.

The controlling values in this text encapsulate the struggle between taking care of ourselves and addressing our problems and the idea that we should completely accept ourselves, and our flaws, instead of resolving them. In that regard, the controlling value’s purpose would be: “Attending to one’s problems lets one succeed despite them”, while the context is “Settling for what you are results in personal stagnation and a decay of self”. This is the controlling idea that Esther subscribes to in the end: she has to face her problems instead of ignoring them in order to better herself.

However, some other characters in the book (as well as Esther, in the beginning when she avoids her declining mental state) would argue along the lines of the opposing controlling value, whose purpose states that “Accepting oneself, flaws and all, lets one grow and find peace”, and whose context would be “Focusing on one’s failures and shortcomings holds hostage one’s potential”.

Esther is pressured to excel, to do well at the magazine and to have her life in order otherwise. When her mental health’s decline starts to affect her more, the general notion that she receives from the people around her is that she should just keep working, keep going and get on with it because she’s so talented and has so much potential. This instills the idea in her mind that if she works towards and achieves what she’s supposed to want (a good job, a lover, a relationship, the ability to do shorthand, etc.) then she’ll be satisfied and feel better. However, if she simply completely accepts herself, including her shortcomings, she can never attend to the very serious problems that she has and get proper help for them.
We see this sentiment when Esther gets out of her first improper electroshock therapy appointment. She says to her mother that she’s “through with that Doctor Gordon”  (145), and expresses that she wants to stop her appointments. Her mom responds proudly, saying she knew Esther wasn’t like “those awful dead people at that hospital” (145), and that she knew Esther would “decide to be all right again” (146). Her mom had faith that Esther could power through what was bothering her, and that she could simply “decide” to be okay. This was harmful, though, because as it turns out Esther WAS on the path to becoming like the people in Dr. Gordon’s hospital, and she did need proper treatment in order to be “all right again”.

The Bell Jar can be categorized as both realistic fiction and a sort of “coming of age” novel. The events that happen in the book reflect real issues that happen to people, including struggles with identity and insanity. It also follows Esther as a young woman through a significant period in her life that shapes who she is. More specifically, this novel can be described as a “Bildungsroman”, because it focuses on the psychological struggle and growth of its main character.
I would also suggest that this book is a commentary of the psychological treatments available at Plath’s time, and specifically how women with mental illness were perceived and addressed. The focus on the electro-shock therapy is a big indicator of this, as well as Esther’s experience in Doctor Gordon’s hospital. Esther is deeply unsettled when she goes for her appointment there, and when she does get the procedure done, she vows to never go back again because it was so terrible (because it was done incorrectly due to negligence). We, as readers, can understand why Esther would refuse treatment after such an experience, because it was awful and it was written in a way that framed it as incorrect and bad. She describes the people in the hospital as looking “as if they had lain for a long time on a shelf, out of the sunlight, under siftings of pale, fine dust” (141). We know that Esther needs help, but we would rather her not get that help at all than stay in a place like this. Plath may have been commenting on the lack of quality, affordable care for the mentally ill at the time, since many people end up in places like Dr. Gordon’s hospital, improperly cared for and only shells of their former selves.
There’s also a focus here on the way men specifically treat Esther in this regard. As her first doctor, Dr. Gordon is very dismissive of her problems and doesn’t treat her with the basic respect and recognition that she expected and hoped for when going to therapy. At her second appointment with him, she tell him that she still feels as bad as the previous week and he “quirked an eyebrow, as if he didn’t believe it” (135). We get the sense that he’s condescending to her, and all actual talk about her treatment is done through her mother, instead of recognizing Esther as her own person. The first time we see Esther truly respected and cared for by a doctor is when she meets Doctor Nolan, her first woman doctor at the private facility that Philomena Guinea sent her to.

When we consider forms, like in Kenneth Burke’s “Lexicon Rhetoricae”, we can examine the ways the author structured the book in specific and intricate ways. The language of the book uses a lot of figurative language such as metaphor and simile, which would be examples of minor or incidental forms. For instance, chapter 9 begins with describing an acquaintance of hers in New York, saying things like “her cat-like limbs”, “like a tropical bird”, and “moved like a mannequin” (99). Since the narrator is Esther speaking to us, this reflects the character’s true talent in writing. As a character she wants to be a writer or an editor, and often romanticizes the life of an author or poet. The writing also is more eloquent and well-written when Esther is in her more stable, hopeful mental states than in the scattered fragments when she’s in the hospital the first time. In chapter 14, when Esther first awakes in the hospital after her suicide attempt, the writing is scattered and relies only on the sensations that Esther is feeling. It starts with “It was completely dark” (170), and continues to describe the scene moment by moment as Esther is aware of more things. There are also a lot of asides to anecdotes and other stories during this part of the novel that interrupt the main plot in jarring ways. Often, it’s hard to follow Esther’s train of thought when she’s struggling the most with her mental state.

We can also see examples of qualitative progressive form, which is when moods portrayed in the story then carry us into different moods. One fairly obvious example of this is Esther’s thought of suicide. The way it is addressed is gradual, so that we’re there with Esther and while we don’t support her thoughts or actions, we can empathize with them. We see the progression of these thoughts, from her purposelessness in life to her first “attempt” when she considers cutting her wrists in the bath (which she was unable to do because “the skin of [her] wrist looked so white and defenseless [she] couldn’t do it” (147)). After that, she tries hanging herself, only to have no place to hang, and tries drowning herself in the ocean only to have her body refuse to stop floating back up. She also questions a friend of one of her friends about suicide, and he responds that if he were going to do it, he’d “blow [his] brains out with a gun” (156). It’s important to point out that after asking this friend about how he’d use his father’s gun and if his father lived near her, he doesn’t acknowledge that worrisome line of questioning at all. In fact, when Esther first poses the question, she writes that he “seemed pleased” (156). This is indicative of some of the thoughts about mental illness and suicide, that it’s often not taken seriously and can be seen as an edgy joke or just amusingly dark subject matter. In any case, this repetition of mentioning suicide is a progression of different moods for Esther, and as a reader we are taken along on this journey so that her actual, nearly-successful suicide attempt doesn’t shock us. It’s expected, and because of how much it’s mentioned, we can assume that it will happen.

I mentioned before about cultural codes that are present in this book. One of the most prominent ones that we see relates to the treatment of the mentally ill, specifically mentally ill women. We see divisions between proper care and harm, between fitting in/complacency and finding yourself/resisting mistreatment. We see these codes happen in everyday life, and this story involves Esther’s personal take and struggle with these issues. There is an extremely different feeling when Esther experiences a female doctor, in a female-only hospital, than in any of the other forms of treatment she received. Esther’s only meaningful connections with people have been with the women she encounters in her life, from her friend Doreen, to Jay Cee, to Dr. Nolan, and finally to Joan. The women that help Esther, specifically Dr. Nolan, are portrayed with much more of a warmth and sensibility than the men like Dr. Gordon or Buddy Willard. Doctor Nolan listens to Esther and allows her to act how she sees fit, instead of shaming her or scolding her. She goes along with what she thinks Esther wants, possibly so that Esther feels like she has some control over her life. For instance, Esther’s mother was starting to have a negative impact on Esther’s mood, so Dr. Nolan arranged it so that Esther would not see any visitors for a while. When Esther learns this, she is surprised and responds, “Why that’s wonderful” (201). When, in the same conversation, Esther mentions that she hates her mother, Dr. Nolan only smiles and says “I suppose you do” (203). This is an example of Esther’s emotions being accepted as valid no matter how extreme they may be, which is a big part of making progress with a mental condition.

At the same time, Esther has no good experiences with any men in her life. On her last night in New York, she goes out with Doreen who finds a date for her to go with. Her date, Marco, “was a woman-hater” (106), and he attempted to rape her shortly into the night. On a less extreme note, she has a complicated relationship with Buddy Willard, her childhood friend and sometimes-romantic interest. Buddy represents a perfectly respectable young man for the time, but he is dull and boring and doesn’t recognize Esther for her talent and worth. He often belittles her and criticizes her dreams, and then expects her to have feelings for him and take care of him. The type of girl who would love Buddy and marry him would be a watered-down version of Esther who let him walk all over her.
It’s evident that Plath was aiming for the more radical ideas towards feminism and deconstructing sexism, by bringing to light the different ways men will tear women down and how women can raise each other up and understand each other in ways no man can. Once Esther can finally abandon her dependence on the men in her life when she is in the hospital with Dr. Nolan, she starts to make progress in getting better. 
The sentiment about marriage also plays into a cultural code. At the time this story takes place, it was still mostly expected of women to settle down and get married eventually and submit to the men in their lives. Esther tries to spend the night with a simultaneous interpreter that she meets, but it doesn’t seem to go anywhere and she starts to consider why she even tried in the first place. She wanted to lose her virginity, but it’s pretty heavily implied that she only wanted to do so because she felt like she must. (A haunting thought crosses her mind when Marco attempted to have his way with her, “It’s happening … If I just lie here and do nothing it will happen” (109). She saw the prospect of getting raped as a potential positive thing, since at least she’d lose her virginity). There are repeated times where Esther considers herself as a married woman, but every time she considers that future dreadfully boring. When lying in the bed of the interpreter, Constantin, she thinks about how she “never wanted to get married”, because “the last thing [she] wanted was infinite security and to be the place an arrow shoots from” (83). Ester is expected to want marriage and so she believes that she must want it, but every time she considers it, she can’t imagine a future where she is just some housewife all day.
The symbolic code is also evident in this novel when Esther talks about the concept of the bell jar. She envisions her heart as being trapped within a bell jar, unable to feel the fresh air of mental stability. When the proper shock treatment at the last hospital starts to work, Esther says,  “I felt surprisingly at peace. The bell jar hung, suspended, a few feet above my head. I was open to the circulating air” (215). The bell jar imagery is interesting, because there is a unique relationship between those who are inside and outside of the metaphorical “bell jar”. Those who are inside are suffering, but can never truly express that to those who are viewing because the glass separates them. Those who are outside may wish to help, but all they can really do is observe. The jar represents mental illness, or depression more specifically in this case, that is always looming once someone experiences it. Only once the person stuck inside the bell jar recognizes that they are stuck and in need of help can the jar be lifted, if only momentarily.

To me, it’s pretty clear that as much as this book was written for those “in the bell jar” to relate to, it’s also a book on how to (and NOT to) treat those who are suffering with mental illness. Our narrator is unreliable, since she tells us about her assumptions and perceptions about what’s going on– including her paranoid thoughts– even when we know they’re not legitimate. In that regard, the ideal narrative audience would be someone who is right there with Esther and agreeing with her all the way. They believe her and her paranoid thoughts (like when she tells her mother that her roommate at one of the hospitals was imitating her (178)). Taking a step back, the (regular) narrative audience would at least be someone who supports Esther and cares about her, but maybe can recognize when she’s being unreasonable. The narrative produces sympathy of Esther, and as readers we are supposed to feel sad when she is sad, and be happy when she gets the help she needs.
There is a danger with this book with being too close to the ideal narrative audience. The entire time, Esther is searching for help and for understanding, reaching out for someone to feel how she feels and relate to her experiences. Because of the subject matter, this is difficult for many people to do and can bring about feelings of depression and hopelessness within a reader who is too closely aligned with the ideal narrative audience. It’s important to recognize the kind of violence that this or any book can do to you, and remember to stay removed enough from the text in order to both be safe and to appreciate the book for its constructed value. This book was written in order to make the reader question their role, to examine how they feel and how they should be feeling. I believe that Plath, as much as she wanted to bring light to the problems of those suffering with mental illness, was also considering an authorial audience of people who already had the feelings Esther had and co

uld see how those feelings were unhealthy. The writing of this book has a questionable morality in that sense, however, since the subject matter is so delicate– many people have succumbed to their feelings of depression after reading this book.
However, in my experience the novel is more hopeful than that. Esther is always going to have a problem, and she’ll always have a bell jar looming overhead. But at the end of the book, we see a new version of her that no longer appears to be very obsessed with the expectations
placed onto her, and instead we see her gearing up for a life that she’s ready and willing to live in. After all the mistreatment and misunderstandings from the people in her life, Esther finally got comprehensive treatment for her problems and she can start to live a better life.

 

This book has had a big effect on me. I, personally, am dealing with a lot of the emotional problems that Esther has (though not in quite as extreme of a way). It felt good to really relate to a character, in the way that she questioned her place in life and even down to her declining hygiene habits and loss of a sense of purpose. If I’m being honest, I’ve been facing a rough patch mentally for the better part of the last few years. I’m very glad that I was able to experience this novel in this way, and to get to know it so intricately through the different methods we’ve learned in class.
It’s so interesting to me to see this whole world of literary analysis that I never got to experience before. I’m not a writing arts major, and I came into this class after desperately trying to search for interesting electives (after enrolling to Rowan/registering pretty late due to my feelings of hopelessness that affected my desire to even transfer to another school after graduating community college, but that’s another story). However, I do believe that I’d be able to use the things we learned in this class to develop some far superior writing to anything I’ve written in the past. Learning what we’ve learned is very important for keeping the writing choices we make in mind, and realizing how so many things affect a work of literature overall. The style of writing, the plot and how it’s structured, the values we instill into our writing, and so many other things are all interwoven whether we realize it or not. Now that I am aware of it, however, I can utilise all of these things to make anything I write that much better and more effective for whatever purpose I’m trying to achieve. We spent the whole semester working on analyzing our “reading for’s”, and now I get to turn around and realize what I’m writing for.

Plath, Sylvia. The Bell Jar. Harper & Row, 1971.

The Trial Blog 4

One of the most struggling things in reading this book is figuring out what “role” I’m really supposed to play. The text is confusing and strange, and I’m left feeling just as bewildered about The Trial as K. is about..  well, the trial. In that way, our first readerly role would be in the position of K. himself. We have no idea what’s going on or what the world we’re entering into is like, only that this strange arrest has been placed onto a man named Joseph K., and everyone else in the world seems to think it’s nothing out of the ordinary.

Looking at you, Frau Grubach.

The nature of this novel makes it very hard to “submit” to the text. However, the only way you can get through it is if you do just that. There is a clear parallel here with how K. must act; he resists the authority that’s telling him what to do without giving any explanation, but he has no choice but to go along with what he’s told to do. As the story progresses, K. gets more and more weary at the workings of his trial, and it starts to take a toll on him emotionally and physically— and at that point, we readers are right there along with him. Even the structure of the words on the page itself, arranged in large blocks of continuous text with little to no paragraph breaks or breaks for dialogue  (whether initially formatted that way or not) which make the pages that much more daunting and confusing. It would seem that the ideal narrative audience for this book is someone who is extremely well at adapting to this kind of offensively inaccessible language. And I’m pretty sure that person doesn’t really exist.

However, in this same vein maybe I am just having difficulty in finding a submissive readerly role that I can actually subscribe to. I went into reading this book with the advice to “let it be weird”, so I was already expecting it to be difficult to get into. This could be acting as a barrier to me; it’s easier to fall into the idea that this book is intrinsically unreachable instead of constructing the reader who can reach it. Assuming that it’s going to be impossible to be the reader the text wants me to be sort of ensures that it will be.

Me thinking about how this book essentially played us all.

Provided that’s true, the authorial audience (as in, the audience Kafka had in mind while writing this book) would have to be someone who WOULD get lost in the working of this world and the plot of this book, because we’re meant to be just as lost, exhausted, and hopeless as K. is. This book is commentating on this kind of extreme corruption, this dystopian system of unwritten rules and regulations that exploit the innocent for inconceivable reasons.

The message of this book seems to fall pretty deeply in line with the general thought of existential nihilism— as I understand it, the idea that nothing we do matters and that we’ll all be subjected to powers completely beyond our control until we die, so there’s no point in trying to change our fate because we are insignificant to the workings of the universe. Or something like that.
In the end of the novel (which by the way, Kafka never truly “finished”, which may explain some things), Joseph K. is taken away by anonymous officers of the court and brutally stabbed in the heart. He dies, alone, still searching for help and for answers. K.’s last words are a shocked exclamation about his execution; “Like a dog!’ he said: it was as if he meant the shame of it to outlive him” (211). No matter what K. did, we as readers are left with the feeling that this is the fate that would have become of him. As Amanda correctly predicted in the second blog for this book, this story absolutely did not have a happy ending for Joseph K.

As a final note, I want to bring up the question of who the strange figure is meant to be at the end of the novel, as K. is approaching his death. The narrator describes it as “a human figure, faint and insubstantial” and then goes on to ask, as if in K.’s mind, “Who was it? A friend? A good man? Someone who wanted to help?” (210). In my mind, the unidentifiable person could symbolize the reader: in the distance, potentially wishing to assist K. for we know he was wronged, but unable to do anything at all.

 

The Bell Jar Blog 1

The Bell Jar is a semi-autobiographical novel by Sylvia Plath. It follows the life
of a young college student, Esther Greenwood, and she traverses the path through life as a young woman in the early 20th century.

I became attached to the writing in this book almost immediately. The narrator, Esther Greenwood, starts off with an inconsequential detail about her summer in New York City: that it was “the summer they electrocuted the Rosenbergs” (1), and that she spent an awfully great amount of her time thinking about how terrible it would be to be electrocuted. Right away, we as readers can begin to expect something off about the narrator (for who focuses so much of their mental energy wondering about electrocutions?), but for the moment it is charming or endearing; this is an interesting character whom we wish to know more about.

To be fair, electrocution really doesn’t seem pleasant.

Because of my attachment, it’s probably accurate to say that I fell into the mimetic register pretty hard. I was apprehensive of this book since I know there are a good amount of people who dislike it (something I could be projecting on the text— “reading for” proving them wrong, perhaps), but the writing in the beginning leaves me hopeful for the rest of it. At the moment, I am reading for a few things as far as I’m aware: the assignment, my own personal enjoyment and desire to experience Plath’s work, and to confirm my expectations for the book. I expect this novel to have some sort of impact on me (as someone who, granted, is easily impacted by literature), and for it to fuel some sort of dialogue about women empowerment and the injustices women face in society. These expectations are based purely on what I’ve heard about the book, and other people’s experiences reading it.

That being said, I have to fight to get past those expectations, even if they’re positive ones, and read what’s actually on the page. A good way of practicing doing that is by examining the Controlling Values at this stage in the storyline (as discussed on our class website, here). We’ve done this in our previous blog posts, in order to establish a baseline for both Animal Farm and Autobiography of a Face.

In the first quarter or so of The Bell Jar, Esther seems to simultaneously pride herself in being different from the other girls in her program, while also being slightly jealous of their easy-going lifestyle and social aptitude. She describes them as “awfully bored”, and that those who are vocal about their ennui from their glamorous lifestyles “make [her] sick” (4). In this regard, we can start to formulate the controlling value’s purpose as something like: Setting yourself apart from the norm brings you success and recognition. Esther respects the work she’s doing, and she believes that studying very hard and going the extra mile gives her more opportunities to succeed— while it also makes her very different from the girls around her.

The context to this would be: Following the expectations of others brings monotony and a loss of self. She tends to lump all of the other girls in this summer program into a one inferior category (with the exception of her wild friend, Doreen). Esther wishes to keep her personhood, and wants to stay “different” so that she can judge the actions of the other girls who go with the flow.

Pictured below is a value graph, showing how these values play out over one segment in the novel (namely, the day when Esther got food poisoning from Ladies Night in chapter 4).

 

Describing Esther in terms of these values reminds me of another literary character that I (unlike many others) hold dearly in my heart: Holden Caulfield from Catcher in the Rye. Like this interpretation of Esther, Holden is also awfully critical of others and tends to see himself as superior, but also like Esther, I believe this comes from a place of insecurity and an insatiable desire to find his place in life. Esther feels stuck between the boring lives of her “vanilla” acquaintances, and the dangerous, irresponsible behaviors of people like Doreen. She wants to succeed both socially, romantically, and professionally, but the values she has to put forth to achieve either of those things tend to clash with the other two.

 

Animal Farm Blog 2

Animal Farm by George Orwell is widely known as, and upon reading, immediately identifiable as a political satire. As I make my way through reading this book, I find I am largely in tune to the thematic register— acknowledging the overall themes and symbolism that are present within the text, though I do not yet know how they all tie together in the end. For a more in-depth look into the events in Animal Farm and how they relate to the different registers of reading, see our first blog for this book. The language present in the beginning of the book mirrors the vernacular of communist ideas, such as (quite plainly) the overwhelming use of calling the fellow farm animals “comrades.” Another telling line would be when Old Major is giving his speech in chapter one about initiating a rebellion against mankind, where he says “Only get rid of Man, and the produce of our labour would be our own. Almost overnight we could become rich and free”, which are some of the promises made in idealistic communism (9). So, we have the genre, which gives us the scope from which we can view this text.

If we look closer within the text, however, we can examine different forms that are utilized to shape our reading experience in different ways. Kenneth Burke describes the different aspects of form in the chapter in his book Counter Statement called “Lexicon Rhetoricae”.  Forms are conventions used to fulfill different aspects of a text that all add up to forming a certain genre. One form is the conventional form– using conventions of an understood genre and fulfilling our expectations of what should happen based on that pretense. For instance, since Animal Farm  is a political satire, we expect to see some sort of conflict within the societal system that the protagonists seek to resolve. In the text, the rebellion against Farmer Jones “was achieved much earlier and more easily than anyone has expected” (18). I feel that this is true for both the characters in the book and the reader (at least, this was the case for me). I expected the rebellion to be a major conflict in the storyline, but it happened quickly and the plot easily moved along into a different facet. When this happened, my expectations changed, as I realized the focus of the major conflict in this book was going to be something other than what I thought going in.

I don’t know, man, something seems off about these pigs……

From there on, I began to expect something to go wrong with the animals leading themselves, as would fulfill the conflictual needs to become a real social commentary/satire. That conclusion also is combined with what is called syllogistic progressive form, meaning that the plot is set up in such a way that it’s logical for the events that follow to happen. Because the rebellion happened so soon, there must be further corruption in the new form of government in order for there to still be a story. Similarly in chapter 4, we get a look at what Mr. Jones has been doing and how the news of Animal Farm has spread, so we can assume that this will lead to action on the farmers’ part– which it did. The farmers “attempt[ed] the recapture of the farm,” which led to the Battle of the Cowshed– the first purely violent defense from the animals that solidified their power and feelings of superiority under their new system (40).

An interesting thing that happened during the time of the battle gives us an example of qualitative form. Qualitive form is about the different moods that are present while reading a text, and how they change and relate to one another. During the battle, the horse Boxer’s  “very first blow took a stable-lad from Foxwood on the skull and stretched him lifeless in the mud” (42). When Boxer expresses remorse for believing he killed someone (with his eyes “full of tears”), the pig Snowball tells him not to feel remorse because all humans are better off dead, and that this was just a product of war (43). Shortly after that, it was discovered that the boy was not actually dead, and had ran off when they were investigating something else. However, despite how upset Boxer was, we did not get any internal imagery from him when they discovered that the boy was alive. It could be that after Snowball gave the order about how he should not be bothered by killing humans, it ceased to matter if the stable-lad was dead or alive: the verdict was set.

I also would like to look at the physical language used in this story. The writing in this is simplistic and straightforward, without much imagery or description. This book was written to be easily digestible, so that many could read it and understand the harsh political point that Orwell was making. The writing is similar to a fable or fairytale, and with the subject matter being strangely competent talking animals, this correlation fits. It’s interesting to consider another fable-like story about talking animals rising up against an oppressive ruler; namely, The Jungle Book.  I’m talking about the movie version that was released in 2016, where the conflict with Shere Khan is a little more dramatized and his power over the jungle is absolute. Obviously, these “texts” are very different, but the way that the jungle creatures decide to rise up against Shere Khan at the end is similar to how the farm animals take charge from Mr. Jones. There’s also similar themes in relation to man vs. animal, since the whole reason Mowgli is being hunted by Shere Khan is because he is a mancub, and man doesn’t “belong” in the jungle. This ideology that Shere Khan tries (and fails) to instill in the jungle animals is similar to what the pigs successfully instill in the farm animals; “four legs good, two legs bad” (34).

Autobiography of a Face part 3

Read the previous post in this project here.

Throughout Autobiography of a Face, Lucy Grealy struggles with how her sickness and subsequent disfigurement shapes her identity. One of the most perplexing aspects of Lucy’s memoir is that for most of her life, Lucy refuses to acknowledge how she really looks and therefore takes a long time to understand that she must come to terms with and accept her face.

When Lucy was young, she didn’t “hadn’t a clue how sick [she] was or what was going to happen” (43)– that the operation would leave her face permanently changed. After it happened, she quickly accepted the change because she didn’t value herself in terms of her looks. As she got older, however, the way people perceived her began to affect her more and more. When she was able to return to school for long amounts of time, she was relentlessly bullied, especially in middle school.

Using Roland Barthe’s approach of examining Intertextual Codes, we can analyze Lucy’s inability to associate herself with her own face. The predicament that young Lucy is in is already strange: a young girl in a semi-dysfunctional family who gets sick and diagnosed with Ewing’s sarcoma, a rare form of bone cancer in the lower jaw. Even as a young child before the operation, Lucy “hadn’t had a strong sense of what [she] looked like” (52). I can’t imagine many children have a good grasp on their physical identity, but even after the operation that resulted in a huge scar, Lucy “felt only proud … and eager to show it off” (52). Little did she know how much that scar would affect her entire life.

Pictured here: words of encouragement that young Lucy evidently did not need.

These statements can comprise the Thematization and the Proposal of the Enigma, according to Barthe’s hermeneutic code. The most recognizable time that Lucy starts to associate herself with how she looks is when she gets excited and hopeful at the prospect of the first reconstructive surgery “fixing” her face. This can be seen as our first Request for an Answer; in Lucy’s mind this surgery will be the answer to all her problems. She starts to care about her looks and how it relates to her identity. This hope, however, is also a Snare; the surgeries, in addition to being unsuccessful long-term, also can’t resolve Lucy’s struggle with her appearance and her self worth.

Lucy sabotages herself from true acceptance throughout her life, most notably with each time she decides to take on a new identity to make her worthy of happiness and life in general. She tries to prove her worthiness to herself by doing things like resolving not to cry at her chemotherapy appointments, forcing herself to believe in God, becoming a model student in school and a model patient while in the hospital, and finally by becoming an image of sex appeal and femininity, in order to fill the void in her heart of self worth with fleeting romantic escapades.  All of these things prevented Lucy from getting to the truth, the real answer for how to live her life. At one point, a false solution of hers was to completely resign from looking in mirrors entirely, or else learn how to look in a mirror while “staring straight through … allowing none of the reflection to get back to [her]” (222).

C’mon Mulan, it’s only makeup. You’ve got it easy.

Lucy found a Partial Answer to her enigma by way of expressing herself through writing. She discovered her talent for writing before the mirror-avoidant philosophy, but even though she discovered it in college it still carried her over later in her life when she needed it. She also developed a partial answer when she was able to make real connections to people and make true friends who helped her and saw her as a person outside of her face. However, a true Disclosure, a real conclusion to her issue didn’t happen until after her final reconstructive surgery, when she began to see herself and recognize herself as her reflection, with no feeling of shame or fear attached to it. She could be herself, interact with people, and think of herself worthy of that interaction. All of her life she had a faltering grasp of her physical and metaphorical identity and who she wanted to be, but at the end of her memoir Lucy finally could start to recognize herself as exactly who she was, and nothing more.