Stevens and the Chicken Joke

Our discussion today in class about Stevens' epiphany of sorts has so many implications. How often in our lives do we have those moments when things become clear and it is obvious that we should turn over a new leaf or follow a path other than the one we are traveling? How often do we have those moments and then not do a single thing to change our course?

It had me thinking of that old chicken joke. The chickens all take flying lessons, learn how to fly, then they all walk home after the meeting. lol. That is definitely Stevens and I know it has been me several times in my life. We have probably all walked home from flying lessons a time or two. :)

Although, in defence of Stevens, we don't really know what he is thinking. Perhaps him learning to tell jokes is his way of turning over a leaf. After all, he has been a particular way his entire life and all of the sudden we expect him to transform. If there was a bit more of Stevens tale perhaps we would see some change in him yet.

My Take on Remains of the Day

First, let me say that I enjoyed this story as much as I was annoyed by it. At certain points I wanted to shake Stevens: What in the world are you thinking?! For example, when he dismissed Miss Kenton's news that she was going to marry her acquaintance I really wanted him to just suck it up and tell her how he felt. And then when Mr Cardinal was telling him that Mr Darrington was being used as a pawn by Hitler, I wanted him to LISTEN and at least think for himself. That said, I was also very taken with his pride in his work, and respect for his employer, and the dedication he had in all that he did.

Steven's narration was reliable only in what he was overhearing, what he was observing. He wasn't even completely honest about how he was feeling or what he was thinking. I'm sure that if he had opened up at all we would have heard all about how he felt about his employers, Miss Kenton, his father, his job, etc. But he was even fooling himself, I think. He was so dedicated to the cause of "dignity," so closed off that he couldn't even let his narration be betrayed by his emotions.

What remains when duty is lost?

When reading the first few pages of Remains of the Day I have to admit I was laughing. Stevens truly cracked me up, with all his “dignity” and “greatness” and the way he tried the best way he could to banter with Mr. Farraday. To me he seemed pretty hysterical. But as the book progressed I realized why this seemed funny to me; I had no respect for someone who took his job that seriously especially since he was just a butler. This was a sobering thought and I no longer read the book in a jovial manner. I began to reflect why I felt this way and I could think of nothing except of something that Stevens said about Mr. Farraday: “But then I do not mean to imply anything derogatory about Mr. Farraday; he is, after all, an American gentlemen and his ways are often very different.” I realize I have been raised in a very "different" and "Who cares" society that is very removed from Stevens, or at least it may be what Stevens is fighting against. I truly think this book can be seen as both a tragedy and a triumph in more ways than one, because it isn't just about a man who hides in his world of decorum and responsibility, but a man who is losing a fight with modern thought and the world and its changing lifestyles. I believe many of these "Modern" changes were good, but in some ways I think we have all lost a certain amount of loyalty and sense of duty to the way we work and live. To Stevens every task was important, every request needed a reply; of course Stevens took it to an extreme, but even with that extreme example we can see what to avoid. To me Stevens was a person of great feelings even if he didn’t know how to show all the feelings he had.

The Remains of the Day (Redux)

Now that you've finished the novel, I want to add some additional questions and expand the conversation. Feel free to revisit anything we talked about in class; there were several students absent who will benefit from hearing your analysis.

1. If you could choose three adjectives to describe Stevens, what would they be? Why?

2. What do you think of Stevens's definitions of "greatness" and "dignity"? Would you define these things in the same way? Are there any flaws in his definitions? In the end, do you think he is dignified?

3. In what sense is Stevens reliable as a narrator? In what sense is he unreliable? As you read the novel, did your level of trust in his narration change at all? Where?

4. Stevens's life could be called a symbol of a fading England in the midst of a changing, post-war Britain. If that is true, what are the characteristics of the England that is fading, and how do we see it exemplified in Stevens?

5. What does Stevens's discussion of the English landscape reveal about his worldview? What does it reveal about his own interior landscape?

6. This question is related to the last. Although this is a very reflective novel, and there are moments of apparent introspection throughout, I am curious to know how well, in your view, Stevens knows himself. Does he understand his own emotions? His own actions? His own experiences?

7. Why do you think Stevens denies having been Lord Darlington's butler? Do you believe his reasoning? How do you think Stevens ultimately feels about having been so closely associated with him?

8. Sometimes Stevens uses the first-person pronoun "I" to refer to himself, but at other times he speaks of himself in the third person, "one." Do you see any significance in this?

9. How do other characters in the novel work as foils for Stevens? How are they like him? How are they different?

10. Why doesn't Stevens tell Mrs. Benn (Miss Kenton) how he feels when she admits, at that rainy bus stop in Weymouth, that she often thinks about a life with him? Do you think she ever knows that he returns her feelings?

11. How has Stevens's journey (both physical and emotional) changed him? Or has it? In thinking about the arc of his character, what is your conclusion? Has he overcome anything, changed his ways or ways of thinking, come to terms with anything? How does the Stevens on the last page compare to the Stevens on page 1?

12. Some critics argue that The Remains of the Day is ultimately a tragedy. Do you agree?

See you on Tuesday.

Guilty of Neglect

I probably should not be admitting this on a blog that our teacher reads, but I didn't really give much thought to our paper because I was so wrapped up in the novel. I enjoyed the movie version of "The Remains of the Day." I can't imagine why I never thought to read the book. I quickly saw how stellar it is and wasn't able to put it down over the weekend.
I don't want to ruin anything for those of you that haven't finished it yet, but I'll just quickly say what a fantastic character Stevens is. He is written so simply yet he embodies a sort of complexity which he mostly ignores in place of duty and dignity. I think he is a perfect personification of the Britain that once was, all virtues and faults included.
Slacking off and not writing my paper until the last minute was actually a wise decision on my part because my topic was influenced heavily by my reading of "The Remains of the Day."
Happy reading. :)

Dylan Thomas and the Decemberists

I remembered a post about Fleet Foxes and Romanticism--

Apparently Dylan Thomas, the poet we discussed in class on Tuesday, is very influential to the lyrical talent of Colin Meloy of the Decemberists. The song, "The Chimbley Sweep," is an interpretation of one of those "disembodied voices" of Thomas' play "Under Milk Wood"

From "Under Milk Wood" ---

"In Pembroke City when I was young I lived by the Castle Keep Sixpence a week was my wages For working for the chimbley-sweep. Six cold pennies he gave me Not a farthing more or less And all the fare I could afford Was parsnip gin and watercress. I did not need a knife and fork Or a bib up to my chin To dine on a dish of watercress And a jug of parsnip gin. Did you ever hear a growing boy To live so cruel cheap On grub that has no flesh and bones And liquor that makes you weep? Sweep sweep chimbley sweep, I wept through Pembroke City Poor and barefoot in the snow Till a kind young woman took pity. Poor little chimbley sweep she said Black as the ace of spades O nobody's swept my chimbley Since my husband went his ways Come and sweep my chimbley Come and sweep my chimbley She sighed to me with a blush Come and sweep my chimbley Come and sweep my chimbley Bring along your chimbley brush!"

And here's the Decemberists --

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6Q3gO4LSPxk

(I apologize for that corny, corny video)

"The Pomegranante" - Live and Let Learn

I really loved the moral universe of Boland's poem. An intricate part of being a parent is wanting to spare your children from making the same mistakes you made. It is natural to want to protect them, to look ahead in the road and try to steer them away from the obstacles you know are coming. But it is also important for them to learn their own lessons, to have personal experiences to draw from as they constantly face the storms of life.

This mother in "The Pomegranate" identifies with Ceres because she recognizes that to take those experiences away would be doing a greater harm to her child than good. Protection is necessary to a certain extent. However, when a parent tries to rob their child of experience in the name of protection they are depriving them of those character building opportunities that will make them a better human being.

I am in no way saying that a dad can't bring out the shotgun when his daughter goes on her first date or that a mom isn't allowed to hate the girl that gives her son his first kiss. What I am suggesting is that the important lessons in life will be so great as experiences that a parent couldn't possibly shield their child from every direction and in fact shouldn't. You can feel the mother's heartache as she looks upon her sleeping daughter who is struggling to find herself. Perhaps the greatest test for a parent is actually stepping back and letting go when all you want to do is hold on.

Heaney's "Bog" Poems

It may help you to understand Heaney's "Punishment" to know that many of his early poems are inspired by bodies that were discovered in the bogs of Europe. Ireland is a country that is full of bogs (peat, an important fuel source, is harvested from boglands), and Heaney draws comparisons between the bogs and bog-bodies of central and northern Europe and the history of his own Northern Ireland, particularly the period known as The Troubles. Something about the bogs causes people and animals to be incredibly well-preserved in them. We don't know for certain how these people ended up in bogs, but it appears as though they were sacrificial killings. One of the bodies, of the so-called Tollund Man of Denmark's Jutland Peninsula, has a noose around his neck ("The Tollund Man" is one of Heaney's well-known bog poems: "Some day I will go to Aarhus / To see his peat-brown head,/The mild pods of his eye-lids, / His pointed skin cap..."). You can see a good picture of the Tollund Man (he is the first image), as well as other bog-preserved bodies, at http://ngm.nationalgeographic.com/2007/09/bog-bodies/clark-photography.

In particular, have a good look at the last photograph, of the "Windeby girl" (who it turns out is a boy, but that is of little consequence). This is the body that inspired "Punishment." It's one of Heaney's most controversial poems. In the 1970s, several Catholic women in Northern Ireland were abused--their heads shaven, their faces tarred--for fraternizing with British soldiers. Heaney yokes this history with the body pulled from the German bog. This is controversial enough, but the real controversy comes from the way Heaney sexualizes the experience, and from the way he seems to understand the atrocities on an intimate level. We can talk more about these things in class, but I'd love to hear your thoughts on this or any of the other poems by Heaney.

It's tragic, really, that we are only discussing one poem by Eavan Boland. She is one of my favorite poets (That's not why it is tragic, of course). If you would like to write about "The Pomegranate," I'd be pleased to read what you have to say. And if you want to study Heaney or Boland (or Yeats, or Joyce, or any of the other Irish writers we've seen glimpses of this semester) in greater depth, there's always my Modern Irish course, 486R. :)