Quality

Because there can never be any absolute standards for literary quality, all literature can only be judged subjectively. Nevertheless, there appear to be some literary standards that are agreed upon by many people. These could be collected and used as the prevailing criteria for judging literature. What would some of these prevailing standards be?

Awaiting Salinger's Comeback

I recently learned that J.D. Salinger is not dead. And all of this time in reclusion he has been working on various stories. What a day it will (would) be when (if) Salinger publishes all of the work he has been creating. Or else he could destroy it all before he dies (or else order it destroyed in his will). I hope he decides to share it with us all because I enjoy his stories very much.

Literature

Why do we make literature? John Fowles once wrote that he did not liked to be labeled as a writer because he did not believe that writing could be a career; it was more like breathing, a vital act which had to be done in order to live. Indeed, creating literature seems to be more of a primal impulse than a hobby or vocation. Everybody feels the need to express his or herself at least once in his or her life. Amen.

DIdo Dies

Oh, Dido! Why did you have to kill yourself? You were so beautiful. I would have married you since Aeneas would not. You and I would have brought Carthage glory and dominion over the Mediterranean. We would have ruled the world! Aeneas is now playing games with his comrades in Sicily. What a dick. At least you cursed him as he left. I'm sure the curse will come to fruition once he reaches Italy.

Evocation of Maternal Warmth

Mothers! Mothers!
Oh, my mothers!

I call you now from far away,
to show me how you lived and died,
to see your joy and hear your cries,
and most of all to empathize.

Sing through me my Muses!

I see you now, my country mother;
a gentle wind blows through your hair.
You sing sweet songs of County Cork,
amid the sound of sizzling pork.

I see you now, my česká matka.
You dance the polka; you drink good beer.
Your bosom shakes as laughter roars
from your stocky frame and sweaty pores.

I see you now, meine Mutter der Preuße;
your cold blue eyes they scan the sea
to glimpse that spark of green and white,
which often lights Atlantic flights.

I see you now, my ancient Ma,
with stardust on your night black skin.
You fed me sunshine from your breast
and warmed me into existence.

Praise be to you, all my mothers!
Praise be to you, sweet maternal warmth!

Away from your embrace, the cold
of darkness drains my heat into
the depths of Death And No Return.
You leaving me is my greatest concern.

So hold me, hold me tight! And keep
me from that creeping night that draws
me to its lifeless realm. Preserve
me, mothers; warm me with your embrace!


-Me

El Labertino

No habra nunca una puerta. Estas dentro
y el alcazar abarca el universo
y no tiene ni anverso ni reverso
ni externo muro ni secreto centro.

No esperes que el rigor de tu camino,
que tercamente se bifurca en otro,
que tercamente se bifurca en otro,
tendra fin. Es de hierro tu destino

como tu juez. No aguardes la embestida
del toro que es un hombre y cuya extrana
forma plural da horror a la marana
de interminable piedra entretejida.

No existe. Nada esperes. Ni siquiera
en el negro crepusculo la fiera.

-Jorge Luis Borges

(Sorry for the lack of tildas and accents; I do not know how to access them in Blogger.)

Book Two: The Fall of Troy

"They all fell silent, gazing at Father Aeneas . . ." Aeneas now tells us about the fall of Troy. In his narrative he frequently labels the Greeks as treacherous, sneaky, and conniving. This stereotypical thinking occurs throughout the history of humankind; sadly, it will never leave us! The infamous Trojan Horse makes its entrance into the story as the Trojans are tricked by Sinon into believing that if they destroy the horse, they will be destroyed, and of they spare it, they will be spared. Consequently, they move the horse inside the city walls. The Greeks make a surprise attack and the battle rages into the night: "Everywhere there was fear, and death in many forms."

Poetry . . . It's A Lovely Thing

Evidence: "Suddenly I realize/That if I stepped out of my body I would break/Into blossom." -James Wright

Sloppy Writing (Maybe Not)

After reading the previous post, I realized that my writing is not so bad. I think I communicated my thoughts fairly well. But there is always room for improvement!

Sloppy Writing

After reading the previous post, I realized that my writing is sloppy. The grammar is flawed and the progression of ideas needs improvement. How can I improve my writing? How can I more effectively communicate the ideas which arise in my brain? I do not know. I guess I will have to practice more often. I will also need to identify and correct my mistakes.

Book One: Storm and Banquet

And so the first book of the story ends. What a great narrative. The mixing of Greek legend with Roman myth and historical fact makes for a heady brew. I do not quite understand the motives of Juno yet. There were some references to the battle of Troy and how she resents something that occured there. I think she knows that the Fates have destined Aeneas and his people to be greater than Carthage, a land that she loves, and so she wants to prevent Aeneas from reaching Latium and founding a great power. I am in love with Venus (which is natural); she is so sweet and beautiful. I loved it when she went to her father Jupiter to cry about how her son Aeneas was being treated: what a dear mother. I also enjoyed the description of Libya with its enchanted forests and rocky coves. Dido is now giving a banquet and Cupid (in disguise) is going to cause her to fall in love with Aeneas. She asks Aeneas to recount his adventures since his defeat at the battle of Troy. The story progresses . . .

I sing of arms and of the man . . .

I am beginning to read a prose translation of Virgil's The Aeneid. I prefer a prose translation because I despise most attempts to translate Latin verse into English verse. It cannot be done! Plus, most "average" people like myself are turned off by narrative poetry; we simply don't have time for such things.

Judging Literature

Is it possible to judge a work of literature as good or bad? I suppose if there were a set of standards for what constitutes a good piece of literature then I could judge whether any given work did or did not meet those standards. Are there any such standards? I do not know. Let us imagine that there is. Let us say that all good literature needs to have the following: (1) proper grammar, (2) suspense, (3) the exploration of at least one universal human theme, and (4) a resolution. Using this criteria I would deem Hugo's Les Miserables an excellent novel. Salinger's "Seymour: An Introduction", on the other hand, would get a very poor rating according to these standards. This might be fine for me, but what if someone thinks that Salinger's story is brilliant? Would they be heretics? No, because my standards are only accepted by me (unless someone happened to agree). A work of literature is only as good as the standards say it is, and the standards are determined by anyone and everyone who cares to create them. Thus there is no inherently good or bad literature because there does not exist an immutable set of standards. All literature is expression. You cannot judge expression for the same reason you cannot judge a rose bush (unless you devise an artificial standard, of course).

Some Qualities of George Saunders' Writing

What are some of the qualities of George Saunders' writing? Firstly, his "plots" are sort of absurd. They involve events and situations that do not normally occur in our common reality (or at least in my perception of it). Secondly, he doesn't take the traditional path in trying to start with a boring exposition to explain the situation of the story. He begins the story's events immediately, without any intitial explanation. As the story progresses, the reader is given enough clues to figure out the situation. I like this technique because it requires me to investigate the setting by picking up various clues; this inevitably makes me want to continue reading. Thirdly, he has a good handle on interior monologue and stream of consciousness. Fourthly, he doesn't waste a lot of time on description (which I believe to be irrelevent most of the time anyway). He focuses on the inner dialogue or else the actions of the characters. I believe this to be effective because humans are drawn more to characters and events than setting and description.

"Pastoralia" by George Saunders

"Pastoralia" is a short story by George Saunders. It is written as a monologue. The story is basically about the narrator and his job as a live caveman in some sort of theme park. He is required to be a cave man all day long. His cavewoman colleague does not follow the rules very well; her disobedience irks the narrator because he is a rule-follower. We soon learn how the theme park operates and what the rules are for the live actors who inhabit the exhibits. The narrator is away from his family and his son is very ill. His wife is having trouble paying all bills. Janet, his cavewoman colleague, has a problem with her druggy son and her mother is dying. The administration of the theme park is about to make many layoffs and Nordtrom, on of the administration officials, wants the narrator to write a bad evaluation of Janet so that they can have an excuse to fire her. Eventually, he caves in and writes a bad evaluation after Janet insults a park guest. I like how the author doesn't explain the situation at the onset. He just begins in the action and lets the reader figure the situation out as the story progresses. This technique makes the reading more challenging and interesting. I also liked how he broke the story into numbered sections. This allows the reader to pace him or herself and it illustrates the repetition of the narrator's job. Repetition is a theme in this story. Certain routines are repeated often and they are phrased the same way each time. I am wondering if the caveman job is a metaphor for the typical office job where one's daily routines become meaningless and one is just doing the motions in order to create the appearance of being busy and productive. I wonder why Mr. Saunders chose to set the story in a strange theme park instead of an office environment. Perhaps to make it more interesting. These are just some messy thoughts on the story. I have not yet learned how to properly criticize and evaluate a piece of literature yet. It helps to let out Stromboli's Fire though.