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More Important than “Practical”: An Appreciation of Henry Zylstra’s “What Is Fiction For?”

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Christopher Rush

Not quite seventy years ago (sixty-six to the day of this printing, to be precise), Henry Zylstra, the late great Professor of English at Calvin College, published in The Banner another pithy, enjoyable essay entitled “What Is Fiction For?” collected in the posthumous tribute anthology Testament of Vision.  I intentionally did not read it until after finishing my address entitled “Art: The Imprint of God, The Signature of Man,” published last issue.  Most of that address was “informed” (as my colleagues say) by Frank E. Gaebelein’s work collected in The Christian, The Arts, and Truth: Regaining a Vision of Greatness.  (I’m not sure why my experience with these great Christian educators began with their posthumous collections — just one of those things, I suppose.)   I knew (perhaps more of a top-notch gut instinct) before reading any of Professor Zylstra’s work I would feel a strong compulsion to work most of it into my address, and since I knew I was running long on content already, I waited.  My suspicions it would be a challenging, worthwhile read saw fruition, and that compunction to share Professor Zylstra’s work has hoven into view again.  As this is a non-profit enterprise charging nothing, existing in part for educational purposes, I operate here on the belief it is not a violation of copyright laws to include the brief work in its entirety, since I’m basically making copies for students in my classes (more or less).  My goal here is to increase awareness of the quality and necessity of delighting in the work by Professor Henry Zylstra.  Surely that is acceptable to Eerdmans and the Zylstra Estate.  Here is “What Is Fiction For?”

On a day you come upon your boy reading a novel, and you say, “What — reading stories again?  You always have your head in those novels.  Why don’t you read something useful, something improving, something edifying?”

I understand you, I think.  I understand your concern when you say that you want him to read something useful.  You are yourself a working man.  You have a job to do and are called to do it.  You find that life is a practical affair.  Subduing the earth and having dominion over it did not come easily for Adam, does not come easily for you.  You honor the virtues of industry and thrift.  Now you come home, tired by the labor of your calloused hand, and you find your boy sunk in an easy chair with his head in a book.  It is all a little disturbing.  And such a book!  Fiction, of course.  Another novel.  Just a story.  I understand you.  If he must read, why can’t he read something useful?

Or something improving?  There too you are rightly concerned.  Your interest in the boy’s character is a real, almost an anxious, interest.  You have been busy with the nurture and discipline of it these many years.  You hoped he would be intelligent, but you could do without that.  You hoped he would be efficient, able to get things done.  But you could do without that also, that is, if he were not lazy.  Laziness would be something else.  It would be a fault in character.  And for his character you have an anxious concern.  For his Christian morality you have a deep-seated, heart-felt concern.  For this you have prayed, though you had not prayed for those other things.  So I understand you when you wish that your boy would read something improving, something that will count in his character.

Again, I understand you, I think, when you use that other word — edifying.  It is a good word, the word you use there: edifying has the idea of edifice in it, and it seems to me that the edifice behind your use of the word is a church.  Good.  You want the boy to read something constructive, something uplifting, especially in a spiritual, a religious sense.  The spiritual and religious come first with you.  You have a concern, consequently, for his devotional reading, for books that will assist him in worship, draw him nearer to God.  You have not missed that emphasis of the Bible: “Seek ye first the Kingdom … sell all that thou hast … if thine eye offend thee, pluck it out.”  You want him to have a care for this above all.  The spiritual, the religious, is first.  It stands higher with you than even the practical and the moral.  And it ought to.

So I understand why it is that you should be zealous for and even jealous of the religious and spiritual development, and thence for practical and moral concerns.  What I wonder at is that this should make for indifference to the artistic concern.  Something in your remark at least suggests that if only you could make fiction serve practical, or moral, or religious purposes you could honor it, but that since you cannot you wish your boy would read something useful, improving, or edifying.  You suspect that novels, when they are innocent, are trivial.  At best, you feel, they constitute mere entertainment.

I wonder at this because I know that you are not Catholic in your insistence on the primacy of the spiritual.  You do not cultivate the esoterically religious in isolation from life.  The saint in you is not developed at the expense of the man; it is indeed the man renewed who is the saint.  And it is that man, the religious man, if you will, who finds himself called upon to be moral, social, scientific, philosophical — yes, and artistic also.

When you come to think of it, you will perhaps acknowledge that the aesthetic, the artistic, although interdependent with them, has a claim upon you distinct in kind from the practical, the moral, or, in the narrower sense only now, the religious claim.  Then you will perhaps acknowledge also that the artistic need in you can be satisfied only by art and not by some other thing.  The practical, the moral, the scientific, and those other worlds, do not exhaust God’s reality as it is revealed in himself, in life, and in you.  There is the artistic world also.  You can look at a tree and reckon how useful it would be to build a house with.  You are then being practical about the tree.  You can look at a flower and discover that it consists of stem, stamen, petals, and the rest.  You are then being scientific about the flower.  But you can also look at a tree or a flower without a deliberate practical or scientific thought, see it as it is, and simply enjoy it.  You may call this mere entertainment if you want to.  But it is not trivial.  It is important.

Now, it is the artistic in him, the aesthetic, that your boy responds to when he finds that the novel he is reading is delightful.  It satisfies a need in himself, corresponds to a world and life, that is, a God’s reality, outside of himself, and pleases him.  Fiction makes this possible for him.  In a way, the novelist is doing what Adam did in Paradise.  I do not mean the pruning and the trimming.  I mean the naming of created things.  Words are poems really.  This name-giving is artistic work.  Adam was called to it.  The artist in you, in all of us, is called to at least the appreciation of it.  To see God’s reality in the real world and beyond it, to see the ideal in and behind the actual, and so to reproduce it that all may look and enjoy, that is what happens in fiction.  Art — the art of fiction also — is man’s acknowledgement and reflection of the divine beauty revealed in and beyond nature and life.  That is what fiction is for.  Its function is in its own aesthetic way, not in a deliberately practical, or moral, or esoterically religious way, to disclose God’s glory for God’s and man’s delight.

When you come to think of it, therefore, you will not so far want to deny your humanity, created and renewed in you, as not to give this world of art, of fiction it due.  It has a claim on you distinct from any other.  No practical bias, or moral anxiousness, or religious exclusiveness should lead you to neglect this world, or to belittle it.  That would be unbecoming to the confident Christian in you.

I see that you let the boy go on with his novel.  What I hope is that you read one too.  A good one, of course—there are so many bad ones.  And a real novel, I mean, not just a fable, or a parable, or an allegory, indirectly again doing practical, or moral, or religious work.  I hope that you get one for Christmas.  I hope you will read it, and not for mere entertainment, although a good novel is, of course, very entertaining.  I hope that you will read it also to discover God and life in it.  So that you may enjoy Him forever.

There you have it.  It’s an interesting sensation, let me tell you, discovering just about everything you think you have to say has already been said decades before you were born and said better than you can say it.  True, that can be said about most of us in the 21st century, but that does not mean we should give in to cynicism.  Instead, delight in rediscovering what the past has to offer, the beautiful and other important things not yet wholly forgotten.

Art, especially good fiction, as we have seen before and will again, is important — far more important than just the practical and useful things with which we can fill up our days and nights.  May this Christmas, as Professor Zylstra said, be filled with good art.

Work Cited

Zylstra, Henry. “What is Fiction For?” The Banner (17 Dec. 1948). Rpt. in Testament of Vision. Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1958. 45-47. Print.

The Freedom to Choose

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Katie Arthur

One of the most exciting things about growing up, after Christmas and trips to Walmart, is learning about the way the world works, and so many things go into creating that excitement.  Parents tell you, “don’t touch the hot stove; you’ll get hurt.”  Granddad says, “bake flour and sugar and eggs together, and you’ll get cookies.”  Your backside says, “don’t yell at your sister, or I’ll get spanked again.”  Eventually, you come to understand patterns in the world, and you find there is a cause and effect tendency in the universe.  You come to expect certain things in certain situations, and you discover in those expectations, you have an exciting power over your circumstances.  You can plug “x” social tool into “y” social situation to invariably come up with “z” desired social outcome.  But there has been a questioning among the literary minds, a wondering about whether cause and effect is actually a valid way to understand the world.  They wonder whether we shouldn’t unlearn those patterns we grew up into, whether we shouldn’t toss our expectations for anything and everything, perhaps, out the window.  Absurdist literature is a great challenge to readers’ expectations, calling into question their means of knowing anything.  In their plays Waiting for Godot and The Importance of Being Earnest, Samuel Beckett and Oscar Wilde present a challenge to their audiences, asking them especially to examine their assumptions about the universality of words, by creating radically different meanings in different contexts, despite using the same words.

The primary underlying understanding when reading absurdist literature, the only universality granted by absurdists, is relativity.  Nothing can be assumed to be the same for separate people, times, situations, places, etc.  Although extreme relativism is accepted as a universal in the absurd, it cannot be understood to be a set down rule, a binding law governing all that happens in the world.  It is simply a coincidence.  Like a scientific theory, it is an observed pattern — or lack thereof, in this case — helping us understand the world and the limits of our understanding of the world.

When we happen upon them, Vladimir and Estragon are sitting there, “waiting for Godot,” not quite sure he will ever come, discussing a scattered montage of topics, progressing from suicide to taking off boots to painful suffering to buttoning one’s fly.  Vladimir ends the scene, saying concerning the maintenance of one’s fly, one should “Never neglect the little things of life” (Godot, Act I).  In other words, he is saying, the little things are too important to be overlooked, and in doing so, he makes an interesting word choice.  In my personal experience, “little” things are just … small.  He seems to be comparing buttoning his fly with a bigger, one might say, more important, weightier issue.  But that’s exactly the point.  That is my experience.  One might say that.  The problem for the absurdists is we can’t say anything about Vladimir’s experience.  We haven’t lived it.  To Vladimir, buttoning his fly is a valuable thing, despite being called “little,” despite my understanding of the word “little.”  He also does an interesting thing with the language style.  This is said in the style we often associate with proverbs, pithy sayings meant to be applicable to just about everything, everywhere, and in all times.  But, my experience is not the same as Vladimir’s.  The proverb works for him, but it does not work for me, which totally defeats the point of a proverb.  We can’t expect one proverb, Beckett’s work shows us, to apply to all times and places and people.  The proverb, as a literary device, has been subtly attacked and its readers and writers asked to reevaluate its use entirely, because Vladimir wants to button his fly and I don’t see the big deal about it.

Wilde also uses his play on the Significance of Being Sincere (wait…?) to ask his audience to reconsider their expectations of absolutes.  Algernon and his dear friend Jack are calmly discussing their complicated marriages over an afternoon snack, and, as they often do, things get a little tense.  Jack is annoyed with Algernon for continuing to calmly eat muffins, Jack’s muffins, when they are in such a terrible heap of trouble.  “I say it’s perfectly heartless your eating muffins at all, under the circumstances” (Earnest, Act II).  Jack then goes to eat a muffin, and Algernon retorts.

ALGERNON: But you have just said it was perfectly heatless to eat muffins.

JACK: I said it was perfectly heartless of you, under the circumstances.  That is a very different thing (Earnest, Act II).

Algernon sees an incongruity in Jack’s logic, as did I when I read this (although, I cannot speak for anyone else who reads this, as per absurdist suggestion).  It is heartless for Algernon to eat muffins.  It is not heartless for Jack to eat muffins.  They are in exactly the same situation.  The rules for eating are arbitrary.  There is no reason behind their existence, and that does not create any problems in the absurdist universe.  They are also performative to a degree.  It is heartless for Algernon to eat muffins because Jack says so.  This does not follow any of the social patterns we’ve learned as children.  There is no cause and effect here.  He simply says “so,” and it is “so.”  Words are used here to create arbitrary value.  Jack is free to say whatever he choses, to create whatever kind of values he choses, because he is using words: “I said it was perfectly heartless of you…” (Earnest, Act II, emphasis added).

Beckett’s fake proverb and Wilde’s arbitrary value assigning change the way we read absurdist drama.  We must now understand, language is versatile.  It can apply to many situations or only a few.  It is powerful to create and change the world.  It is itself only regulated by use, so must therefore change as its use is changed.  This is a freeing idea, they say.  With the versatility of language in mind, there is freedom to read without the need to expect universality.  We are free to simply be delighted by the author-creator’s (hopefully) clever uses of the language.  In speaking and writing, the absurdists claim there is freedom to discard the expected patterns, the rules that must regulate his creation (which are fairly arbitrary themselves).  Absurdist literature must be read as a challenge to discard patterns and accept the freedom of relativity.

Works Cited

Beckett, Samuel. Waiting For Godot: A Tragicomedy in Two Acts. The Norton Anthology of English Literature. 9th ed. Vol. 8. Eds. Jahan Ramazani and Jon Stallworthy.  New York: W.W. Norton & Co., 2012. Print.

Wilde, Oscar. The Importance of Being Earnest: A Trivial Comedy for Serious People. Project Gutenberg, 2006. Ebook.

Overlooked Gems: Hold Your Fire

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Christopher Rush

The Goal is El(ev)ation

Thirteen years before the boys from Ireland refocused their attention and output back on the transcendent, the boys from Canada did the same thing on one of my favorite Rush albums, the oft-overlooked Hold Your Fire.  It might be a bit of a stretch to call this a Forgotten Gem, since it is one of the poorest-selling albums of Rush’s career, and thus it strikes me as more accurate to use this solid album to kick of a new, though related, series, Overlooked Gems.  In retrospect, some of the albums we examined under “Forgotten Gems” may have been similar stretches, but we are nothing at Redeeming Pandora if not flexible.  Anyway, though I speculated last issue if we might bring Forgotten Gems back, this present moment is calling for something else (though I am not unwilling to return to that series should it strike my fancy), and thus we turn to Overlooked Gems.

Hold Your Fire was created in 1987, and while it is often ignored as a whole, it has given us at least two memorable hits: “Force Ten” and “Time Stand Still.”  Like most people (other than the die-hard Rush fans), “Time Stand Still” was the main reason I acquired the album.  I was pleasantly surprised at the rest of the album.  The album is at a transitional period for the band for several reasons: notably it is the last of the “Mercury Era” albums, the beginning of a (short-lived) lighter lyrical output from Neil Peart (here and there), and the beginning of more electronic percussion sounds from Peart (and a new drum set).  It is also a much more pop-rock sounding album than most Rush albums (especially in light of later ’90s releases such as Counterparts and Test for Echo, which are predominantly very heavy rock albums).

In his “making of” snapshot entitled “Fireworks,” Neil Peart highlights many of the changes just mentioned, framing them and more in the general impetus within the band to experiment, grow, and improve their musical and lyrical range.  Sometimes growth and change work in a band’s favor (Achtung Baby), sometimes not (Concerto for Group and Orchestra).  Here, it works far better than most were likely expecting.  The optimistic turn of most of the songs, the pop/Asiatic/keyboard emphases, the gentler, softer feel for much of the album likely threw off much of the public.  So while it is somewhat understandable the initial reaction was bemused disappointment, no such response is warranted yet today.  For some of us, the leaning toward religious ecumenism and naturalistic lyrical underpinnings may detract from our enjoyment, but one never goes to Neil Peart for doctrinal verities.  We can appreciate the journey, the questions, the musical brilliance any way, and take their questions and leanings to the fullest higher place with our Biblical worldview (and aesthetic sensibilities) intact.

“Tough Times Demand Tough Talk Demand Tough Hearts Demand Tough Songs Demand”

“Force Ten” was almost an “afterthought,” Peart says.  Sometimes following those afterthoughts are choices of wisdom.  This is a great song.  It is also an ironic introduction to this album, as the lyrical impetus of the pre-chorus (whatever one calls the initial lines) does not presage an album of “tough talk.”  It’s a fairly encouraging, open-hearted album, as intimated earlier.  Additionally, though memory may mislead as sentimentality and nostalgia tag-team to override veracity at this moment, 1987 wasn’t all that tough a time, at least where I was living it.  Perhaps it was more difficult in Canada, though it is doubtful things were all that difficult for a band with such success (and dosh) as they.  Likely, then, it is not so ironic: as is their wont, Rush sings about timeless matters not kairotic hot topics.  The fire we are to hold is an eternal flame (easy, Bangles fans).  No matter our current circumstances, tough times do indeed demand tough talk, hearts, and songs.

The “tough talk” of the song is truly a litany of encouraging enjoinments.  Whether we are owners of “too-tender hearts” or toughies with “skin as thick as thieves,” we can weather the storms of life.  Life is not an unconquerable enemy, nor is it an unsolvable puzzle.  We can “look the storm in the eye” and be hurricanes ourselves.  The best way to do this is to be aware of life around us: “look in, look out, look around.”  Don’t be so mindful of yourself and your problems: care about others and their life struggles as well.

Some may be turned off by the potential Whitman-like “anything is viable” bent of some lyrics.  While Peart does say “be vain and smart, humble and dumb,” one forgets the helping verb from the beginning of the verse “can” — we can be these things, but that doesn’t mean we should be all those things.  If we are looking out and around, we won’t be destructively vain or dumb.  It is not a stretch to believe Peart prefers the “smart and humble” combination.  Similarly, the “savage grace” line of verse two adds to the quality of the song without promoting relativism.  Man is and likely will be noted for his “savage grace,” this side of eternity.  Man is capable of many things, good and bad, which is exactly what this song portrays.  But thoughts like wearing the “rose of romance” and embracing a joie de vivre likely lean toward living life fully and correctly, living a life of generosity and concern for others, even while the force-ten gales of life storm around us.  Our lives are not just for ourselves.

“Children Growing Up — Old Friends Growing Older”

It’s fair to consider this, “Time Stands Still,” the best song of the album.  Accurate, also.  Like all great works of art, its truth does not change but our experience of its truth increases and improves.  Another irony for this album, the desire to pause in a moment of time succeeds on one level, thanks to this artistic medium: we will be enjoying this song in some form (vinyl, tape, disc, digital, ?) for one hopes a long time (perhaps forever, if one’s desires for the way eternity shapes up come true).  So the song succeeds on one level, though we know the passage of time has a pernicious way of swallowing up all our temporal victories.

Of course, this song means more to us as we live out its lyrics.  When young, we are invincible, time seems to move so slowly, no one could possibly understand what we are going through … Heavens, but we are idiots.  But Peart’s point here is not to reflect upon the past (better we don’t that often, anyway).  Instead, knowing as we do now time is not nearly as lethargic as we want it to be, slow down and look around at now.  Enjoy the moments as you are living them, stop valuing the moments yet to come (that may never happen, and certainly won’t happen the way we intend them to) more than the moments here now.  Oddly, the call to stop and look around is likened to “some captain, / Whose ship runs aground.”  One would think a ship running aground would be a bad thing worth avoiding, and so the comparison appears to stumble a bit — until we realize the actions are not being compared but simply the situations, the effects: the captain isn’t going anywhere, now, all he can do is think and wait.  How much better for us it would be if we could get to the point of a life of contemplation without running the ship of our lives aground first.  (For another fine example of this point, see the best episode of The Andy Griffith Show, “Man in a Hurry.”)

This is unquestionably the best song on the album and thus needs no further comment or explanation from me.  Though, it certainly is a heck of a thing to think about my friends growing older.  Glad that’s not happening to me.

“Time Will Do Its Healing / You’ve Got to Let It Go”

The theme of “time” continues in “Open Secrets,” another solid song many will easily dismiss.  I say “easily,” only because many “fans” only like the songs the radio tells them to like (or whatever source of taste and popularity the independent thinking kids are hearkening to these days), not because it’s an album filler.  Like with so many of the good, solid Rush songs, it’s the sound of their music.  Peart’s lyrical talents are always a rollercoaster, but there is no doubting the musical supremacy of this power trio.  The lyrics of this song are on one level inferior to the two tour-staple “greatest hits,” and the basic idea of paying attention to those with whom we are, their needs, their value is a regular occurrence in the post-Mercury years (especially coming up next on Presto) and thus nothing unusual in the band’s oeuvre … but then comes the bridge.

This album is partly about time, partly about searching for meaning.  We have noted already the tendency toward ecumenism, but the bridge of this song is remarkable in its rejection of pure ratiocination: “I find no absolution / In my rational point of view.”  Even if the thought is limited by its context of “mere” social interaction and willingness to open our hearts to others, casting aside our pain of past hurts and fears of further scorn, and even if the only response is not “seek divine revelation” but “maybe some things are instinctive,” we should take what we can get.  That he is willing to acknowledge man’s reason alone will not solve all our problems is a good start.  That is one way to start building quality relationships, the kind that risk pain and share secrets.  It takes time.  We all have things of which we have to let go.  If we can, if we are willing, that is one way “You could try to understand me — I could try to understand you.”

“We Fight the Fire — While We’re Feeding the Flames”

You might be tempted to think this is the source of the album title, but it isn’t, not immediately.  Certainly the fire imagery (or motif, perhaps) contributes to it, making this a much more unified album than the casual fans who only want digestible radio hits will see.  “Second Nature” continues the potential for instinct begun in “Open Secrets,” but it is admittedly hampered by the threatening cynicism throughout the number.  Certainly the narrator has much to be righteously antagonistic concerning, and while he does a mostly impressive job of avoiding bitterness and sarcastic anger, a tinge of vitriol may discolor the song as a whole for some.  It depends what sort of mood I’m in, personally.  That’s usually why I like to listen to this album when I’m already in a positive, optimistic mood.  (See our “Death to Cynicism 2015” ad in this issue.)  The music attempts to buoy the song up to more than just irritated political antagonism.

One wonders, though, what the actual source of antagonism is actually under scrutiny.  Is it the absence of “voices” among the people?  Surely that has been remedied to some extent with the advent of the Information Superhighway.  Is it the “Too many captains / Keep on steering us wrong”? by which one suspects the leaders of the Free World making decisions one doesn’t like?  Which direction is “wrong”?  We aren’t precisely told.  Perhaps that’s part of the point: pick your own source of antipathy and fill in the blanks with it.  One tirade fits all.  Though, musically, it is a delightful tirade.

The cynicism rears its head quite boldly in what may likely be considered the tail end of verse two (unless it is pre-chorus two): the rejection of perfection (though, if it were perfection achieved solely by Franklin-like Enlightenment rationality, we could applaud it), the willingness to compromise for the sake of general amity (making the decade-later “Resist” that much more impressive).

The two choruses, though, may likely prevent the song from being outright cynical in the end.  We are “feeding the flames”; we are not “blameless.”  We are culpable, even if we didn’t start the fire (you don’t mind, do you, Mr. Joel?).  We may have inherited a messy world, but cynically complaining and laying blame while we walk around “without shame” belies our mistaken self-image.  The guilt we see in the mirror does not mean we are looking in someone else’s mirror: we have some ’splainin’ to do as well.  Being bitter makes the problem worse.  Pessimism, says Chesterton, comes from being tired of truth, not falsehood.  Slinging mud at mudslinging politicians doesn’t majickally make the world pristine.  Perhaps it’s an “open letter” not so the “powers-that-be” will see it but so we, the real powers-that-could-be will wake up, slough off our comfortable blankies of blamelaying and start fighting the fire without feeding it.  Fight it with compassion, understanding, humility.  (Is it too much of a stretch to translate the “second nature” of the song as a Biblical “new nature”?  That’s fine.  I’m limber.)

“The Point of Departure is Not to Return”

This jaunty little number gives us an optimistic perspective on life flying in the face of pure materialism, a growing undercurrent of the album, and while it has its flaws (which shouldn’t surprise us), it provides a great song, first and foremost (as “great” as a song of its ilk can be, sure), and a great collection of lyrics about which to have meaningful conversations.  Songs such as this boggle my mind — not of itself, of course, but that an album such as this could go mostly neglected and a band such as this could be denied entrance into a musical hall of fame for so long.

The opening of the song is as follows: “Basic elemental / instinct to survive / stirs the higher passions / thrill to be alive.”  A seeming jumble of contrary ideas, the verse continues: “Alternating currents / in a tidewater surge / rational resistance / to an unwise urge.”  We have seen already on this album both a call to rationality and a caution against uxorious devotion to reason.  Here we now have a call to balance.  The song is called “Prime Mover,” and while the opening lines intimate the eponymous mover is the Darwinian (and potentially Freudian) war against death, with forestalling death being the ultimate value and thus the “prime mover” of all humans do, the “thrill to be alive” sponsored by “the higher passions” surely cannot be a product of simply “trying not to die.”  The “higher passions” bespeak a life far richer and meaningful than the base materialism of Darwinian (or Spencerian) existence.  Admittedly, the “unwise urge” against which “rational resistance” fights could be a spiritual life — but if those “higher passions” are a good, and just being alive is not enough (and surely it isn’t, given not only the tenor of the entire album but Rush’s entire output), a “rational resistance” could not possibly be in favor of embracing solely materialism.  What good would “higher passions” be then?  Since, as the verses say, “anything can happen,” it would truly be “an unwise urge” to dismiss categorically the possibility of the miraculous, the supernatural, the divine.

Some may upbraid such an interpretation, especially in light of the chorus, which says, in part, “the point of the journey is not to arrive.”  Surely this is saying the end goal of life is simply to have a good life, right? and that isn’t in any way a Christian message.  Easy, now.  I’m not trying to foist a Christian message upon this song (as far as I can tell, consciously).  Even so, if the point of the Christian life were (using the subjunctive instead of the past tense; we are living in … never mind) — I say if the point of the Christian life were simply to “go to Heaven,” surely we would all be translated at the moment of justification anyway.  The point of the Christian journey is not (just) to arrive, either.  I don’t see a negative doctrinal frisson here.

Some may then chafe against the more overt deistic sentiments of the last verse.  Well, you may have me there.  Indeed, the song is called “Prime Mover,” not “The God Who is There.”  This isn’t a Dr. Schaeffer work.  Still, as with most of the album, it’s better than an outright rejection of spiritual things.  We can work with this.

Anything can happen.

“It’s Not a Matter of Mercy — It’s Not a Matter of Laws”

Undoubtedly the darkest song on the album (and definitely a top ten all-time dark Rush songs), “Lock and Key” honestly examines the evil within all of us.  The music, though, betrays the sinister elements of this song, being yet again another up-tempo, musically-pleasing number.  Really the song discusses the fact people almost never want to discuss: the destructive, anti-social, downright evil side we all have.  We would call it our “sin nature,” but Peart is not at that point here.  Still, that he is talking about it as if it’s a fact and (perhaps mildly) upbraiding all of us for keeping our badness under “lock and key” instead of discussing it, acknowledging it, and seeking a remedy is noteworthy.  Sure, we know the remedy, but it is difficult trying to share the remedy with people if they aren’t even willing to discuss or even acknowledge the existence of the disease.

I don’t think the line “Plenty of people will kill you / For some fanatical cause” needs to be taken as an assault against Christianity, especially since it is a true statement about so many “tolerant,” peaceful” groups of world denizens outside of Christianity.  Besides, since Christianity is true, it’s not a “fanatical cause,” anyway.

“A Spirit with a Vision is a Dream with a Mission”

Finally we get to the most direct source of the album title with the opening lines of “Mission.”  Underscoring Peart’s lyrical skill (which, yes, does at times fly afield), all this time we’ve likely been thinking “Hold Your Fire” is the typical “stop shooting bullets at those people” idea.  And while that sentiment has certainly undergirded a good deal of the album, in its general “promote peace and unity” sort of way, it is far more clever than that: we each have a flame, a unique fire of spirit, identity, gifts, talents, what have you — don’t hide them under a bushel basket.  No longer the consumptive devastating force, fire transforms into a transcendent symbol of optimistic hope.  “Keep it burning bright / hold the flame / ’til the dream ignites. / A spirit with a vision / is a dream with a mission.”  Truly an uplifting song, literally.

We are again cautioned against inactive, dreamless existing — another enjoyable current of the album advocating the “higher passions” instead of acquisitive materialism.  Additionally, Peart gives us an intriguing possibility the life of a dreamer, the passionate hopeful life of meaning and delight in the Realms of Gold, is only given to those who will make the most of it, who will truly enjoy it.  If such a vivid, vibrant imaginative life were given to the dullards, they would not be able to appreciate it or use it wisely — instead they would try to exchange it for the humdrum life of simply existing.  An intriguing and almost disquieting notion.  Don’t let this happen to you!

This may be the most musically diverse song on the album, which again highlights the importance of diversity and creativity — two ideas essential to a quality life for all of us and neither of which are antagonistic to unity or meaning.  Pursuing the “higher passions,” the gospel, the “finer things” as Brother Steve puts it, does come with a cost: “We each pay a fabulous price / for our visions of Paradise” warns Peart, “but a spirit with a vision / is a dream with a mission.”  No one ever said the quality life worth living would be safe and comfortable.  But unity, meaning, and quality are worth pursuing and fighting for all the same.

“How Can Anybody be Enlightened?  Truth Is After All So Poorly Lit”

Perhaps the album is so poorly received because the songs are quite similar.  We have here again another straightforward song enjoining us not to disengage from the social life of caring about other people.  Don’t hide behind excuses of “I have my own problems.”  Don’t dismiss the detrimental behavior of those we love with “it’s just a stage.”  Don’t excuse the popular voices of falsehood with “it’s just the age.”  We have a role to play, a responsibility to care for others with genuine empathy.  Don’t “turn the page” (the song’s title) and move on as if history and its forces are inexorable and individuals don’t matter.  Certainly we do, but we live better in community.  If life is indeed a powerful wind tunnel, we would certainly do better at surviving it together instead of alone.  Sure, you could shake your head at the line about truth being “so poorly lit,” as if Peart is refuting the light of the gospel and all that … but we are seeing in a mirror darkly, after all, aren’t we?  At least, again, he is not siding with the “light” of the Enlightenment and its outright rejection of divine revelation.  I told you this was a good album — good, at least, as a conversation starter on important things that matter.

“Somewhere in My Instincts the Primitive Took Hold”

I don’t understand why Geddy Lee regrets putting this song, “Tai Shan,” on the album.  It’s musically a lovely, calming song.  Sure, it’s a tribute to China — what’s so bad about that?  It does rebuff earlier songs on the album a smidge, advocating instinct … but, then again, most of the album has been about abjuring pure rationalism, so if there is a rebuff it’s against the willingness to give in to primal instincts, the instincts not of “Lock and Key” but of spirituality, the instincts of the imago dei, perhaps somewhat confused as it might be in this song in the thin air at the top of Mount Tai.  The only thing really “wrong” with this song is it’s too short; we want to hear the unique musical strains more.  Take this song for what it is, a good song about a positive spiritual experience.  Turn it into something later, after you’ve enjoyed and appreciated it for what it actually is.

“In a Driving Rain of Redemption the Water Takes Me Home”

“High Water,” the final song of the album, does have a pervasive “we evolved out of the water” sort of notion (or does it?).  Well, at least he’s not saying “we just came from apes.”  Again, our purpose here is not to try to transmogrify Peart’s lyrics into proto-Christian talk (though much of the album does tend to allow us to lean in that direction, as we have seen), so instead of trying to remake the song into what we want it to be, we’ll just take it as it is (or appears to be).

Looking at this last jaunty tune on the album, it draws many of the ideas of the album together: time, transformation, memory, social community and responsibility, the value of the individual — all come together in an optimistic conclusion.  The optimism again betrays its attempts to reconcile man’s supposed biological evolutionary history with the primal experience of “higher passions”: “We still feel that elation / when the water takes us home.”  If we are truly biologically evolved, why would returning to our primordial watery roots give us a positive feeling?  Surely Peart is not arguing for a sentimental homecoming feeling like returning to the home of our youth at Thanksgiving or Christmastime.  Darwinian evolution (biological, psychological, and sociological) demands we look at our past with contempt: we should be grateful we have escaped the water or the trees or the whatever.  Looking back at our earlier, lesser existence should not inspire elation.  So the song can’t be simply a call to align with and magnify biological or social evolution.

The song praises the paradoxical notions of a) the courageous explorative breaking away from the ancestral watery home and b) the redemptive benefits of returning to said ancestral watery home.  Water’s concomitancy with civilization is not a new concept, nor was it new when Langston Hughes wrote about it for his community almost a century ago.  Peart relates the communal connection of memory and water quite well in only a few lines, yet the tension of that paradox still remains.  All the lyrics about water itself breaking away from its locations, “springing from the weight of the mountains,” bursting from “the heart of the earth,” “flowing out from marble fountains,” on seashores or rainforest — every instance of water moving and escaping is positive, yet no mention of water returning to its source is mentioned, let alone praised.  Thus, statistically, the song praises leaving one’s home/source far more than returning.  So why is the refrain always about the greatness and elation of the water taking us home?

If the water is taking us home, the water is not, as initially seemed, itself our home.  Fair enough.  Throughout the song the water is lifting us up, the water rises (yes, it crashes and flows, too, but mostly it is moving up) and so does whatever is leaving the water.  Up is the dominant direction — but never in a biological, psychological, or sociological sense: it’s never about growing complexity or evolution.  If returning is up, then, away from the muck and mire of the earth, and it’s not the mountains, where else could “home” really be?  If “driving rain” is “redemption,” redemption must come from above, and since even the driving rain takes us home, home must be where redemption comes from — and surely it is not just the clouds!  Home is where redemption comes from. above and beyond Earth.

Well, what do you know.  I told you this was a good album.

Welcome Home

Thus our first exploration of an Overlooked Gem draws to a very satisfactory conclusion, even if we have stretched it more than Lee, Lifeson, and especially Peart intended.  Ever the optimistic band, Rush has given us a much more solid and enjoyable album than just “the one with ‘Force Ten’ and ‘Time Stand Still’ on it.”  Considering all the changes going on in their professional lives at the time, that they gave us a calming, musically-uplifting, thought-provoking optimistic album that encourages us to seek spiritual truth and abjure pure materialistic rationalism as the solution to life’s challenges is truly remarkable and worthy of far more appreciation on our part than the album and the band has received.  So go get your own copy and enjoy it, paradoxes and all.

Charles Dickens’s Work and Poverty

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Michaela Seaton Romero

The Victorian era produced great authors, such as the Brontë sisters, William Thackeray, and George Eliot.  However, the most well-known Victorian author is Charles Dickens.  Dickens’s work was heavily influenced by the poverty he had experienced.

Charles Dickens was born in 1812, the second of eight children.  He had a rather idyllic childhood, and his parents were even able to pay for him to go to private schools.  He read constantly, burning through books such as Robinson Crusoe and The Arabian Nights.  This time came to an end, however, at the tender age of twelve, when poverty grabbed ahold of his family.  His father, who had been living beyond his means, was forced into debtor’s prison.  Dickens had to leave school, as he could no longer pay for it.  Instead, he worked ten hour days in a shoe blacking factory.  He and his older sister worked hard to support their mother and younger siblings, who had moved in with their father in prison, and pay off dad’s debts.

His life in the factory greatly influenced his future works.  He is quoted as saying “How I could be so easily cast away at such an age.”  This thought can be seen in many of his works, as he shows good people, children especially, who are caught in the grips of poverty and cannot escape.  He struggles with the idea those who could have helped, like the upper and middle classes, did nothing even for little children.  Dickens became interested in social reform and labor conditions.  As stated in the previous essay, factory conditions were poor, resulting in medical problems and death, and no doubt Dickens saw these happen at his work.

The sights young Dickens saw in the factory and around the deplorable conditions the poor lived in heavily influenced his fiction and other works.  The view middle and upper class Victorians held was poor folk were all criminals, but Charles Dickens’s books challenged this.

While working and living as a poor person, Dickens loved people who were poor, and he himself was desperately poor.  This poverty pushed him to succeed in later life.  Dickens knew he was a person, and there was no difference between him and middle class people, except their income.  Just because people were poor did not automatically make them criminals.

In Oliver Twist, Dickens confronts the realities of child labor and orphans.  Orphanages were rough places, often cold, disease-ridden, and brutal.  In one famous scene, Oliver Twist is chosen to ask their caregiver for more food.  For this, he is beaten.  In Great Expectations Dickens challenges the view people’s social status makes them who they are; rather, people’s characters define their worth.  Pip, the main character, is a poor boy whose mind is messed with by a manipulative old woman and her protégée.

A Christmas Carol shows the dire consequences of ignoring poverty and is probably his work that demonstrates poverty’s effects most clearly, especially poverty involving children.  Tiny Tim is a crippled child, whose father works for Scrooge.  Scrooge is told unless Tiny Tim gets help, he will die soon.  Children back then were imprisoned by the poverty they were experiencing, and most would never escape this life.

This could be representing Dickens himself in his earlier years of poverty.  In the A Christmas Carol Scrooge ends up helping Tiny Tim and his family, but Dickens knows not all children are so lucky.  Both Dickens and Tiny Tim were lucky to escape.  Dickens wanted the public to realize the awful life of children stuck in poverty, so, hopefully, they would become enraged and do something to change the conditions.

In A Christmas Carol, Tiny Tim’s father works for Scrooge.  He struggles to make enough money to feed all of his children and give them a good Christmas.  Although he never goes into debtor’s prison, he works for a man who makes his living putting others into debt, so he sees the drastic effects.  Dickens’s father went to debtor prison, and he uses his experiences to show why people did not want to go there.

Also in A Christmas Carol, Scrooge encounters two ragged street children.  One is Ignorance and the other Want.  The spirit tells him although both are dangerous, Ignorance is the more dangerous.  On his forehead is written “Doom.”  This symbolizes Dickens’s view on poverty: if the middle- and upper-class people never learn about the deplorable conditions poor folk live in, then they will never do anything to change it because they don’t know something is wrong.

Charles Dickens was the most well-known Victorian author, and his books were heavily influenced by the poverty he had experienced.  This poverty drove him to succeed in later life and also made him challenge the popular beliefs about the poor in his books.  Charles Dickens was heavily influenced by poverty, and in return, poverty is heavily featured in his works.

Bibliography

“Charles Dickens.” Wikipedia. 3 Dec. 2014. Web. 7 Dec. 2014. <http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Charles_Dickens&gt;.

“Charles Dickens Rolls in Grave Each Time Scroogey Ed Reformers Dismiss the Effects of Poverty.” Teacher Biz. 31 July 2013. Web. 7 Dec. 2014. <https://teacherbiz.wordpress.com/2013/07/31/charles-dickens-rolls-in-grave-each-time-scroogey-ed-reformers-dismiss-the-effects-of-poverty/&gt;.

Warren, Andrea. “Charles Dickens and the Street Children of London.” Teen Reads. The Book Report Network, 14 Dec. 2011. Web. 7 Dec. 2014. <http://www.teenreads.com/reviews/charles-dickens-and-the-street-children-of-london&gt;.

Shakespeare Suite: Romeo, Juliet, and Lear

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Amber Richardson, Grace Livingstone Tyler, Schyler Kucera, and Elise Lang Mahan

Movement One: “Risks for Love in Romeo and Juliet,” Amber Richardson

Romeo and Juliet is the story of the forbidden love of Romeo Montague and Juliet Capulet.  Their love is forbidden because of the hatred between the Montagues and Capulets.  One major theme of this play is risk.  Risk is seen throughout the entire play and builds up most of the storyline to a story of unconditional love.

The first instance where risk is seen in Romeo and Juliet is when Romeo attends the Capulet masquerade in order to see Rosaline.  This is a risk because Romeo is a Montague and the Capulets hate the Montagues.  He is risking his well-being and his emotional state, since Rosaline did not return the feelings Romeo had for her.  The most obvious risk in this play is Romeo’s and Juliet’s love for each other.  Their love is practically forbidden because their families hate each other and would not approve of their actions.  In this they risk their families finding out and harming one another.

An earlier risk Romeo takes comes before he goes to the masquerade.  Romeo has a feeling the following fateful events will lead him to his undeniable death.  He ignores this feeling, though, and continues with plans.  This shows a risk because he has a feeling he will lose his life but continues anyway.

Romeo seems to be the person taking the most risks in this play, especially with his relationship with Juliet.  When Romeo tells the friar he wants to marry Juliet, the friar warns him of the fickleness of young love.  He worries about the fact one day he loves Rosaline and the next Juliet and marriage is a big step for someone who met their lover the night before.  Romeo, though, ignores this and insists he marries Juliet anyway.  Trying to marry Juliet is probably the biggest risk he takes for their relationship.  He has his life and the peace between their families at risk.  Disturbing the peace between their families could end in death for members of their families, since the Prince has already warned against their quarrels.  Disturbing the peace is something Romeo was successful at.  Romeo kills Tybalt, a Capulet, and he is banished from Verona by the Prince. This is a considerably graceful punishment because the Prince’s original punishment for disturbing the peace is death.

Juliet also takes risks as well.  A risk she takes is professing her love about Romeo to her nurse and using her a messenger for them.  The nurse could choose to tell her parents about their love, and Romeo and Juliet would get into trouble for this.  The Nurse is also risking her job by hiding this love.  She could lose her job if the Capulet parents find out she didn’t tell them and be accused of helping a Montague.  The friar could also lose his position as a friar if the Montagues find out he married Romeo and Juliet without the permission of their parents.  The biggest risk Juliet takes is when she hides in the coffin and is surrounded by other dead people.

The play gave a great example of unconditional love.  No matter what obstacles were thrown in their way, Romeo and Juliet found a way around them (until the tragic climax, of course).  Their love for each other was shown through the risks they took to be with each other.  From meeting each other in the middle of the night to risking their own lives, risk can be seen as the major theme of this play.

Movement Two: “Romeo, Juliet, and the Effects of Immaturity,” Grace Livingstone Tyler

In William Shakespeare’s most famous play, Romeo and Juliet, are two families feuding, the Capulets, to whom Juliet belongs, and the Montagues, to whom Romeo belongs.  Romeo is madly in love, or so he thinks, with a young lady named Rosaline, who does not reciprocate his feelings.  Benvolio, Romeo’s cousin, encourages Romeo to find another woman to love.  Romeo and Benvolio attend a ball at the Capulets’, because Benvolio wants Romeo to find someone else.  Romeo only agrees to attend because he knows Rosaline will be there.  Romeo is immediately captivated by a young woman who is not Rosaline: Juliet.  It is what we would call “love at first sight.”  They share a kiss, and later that night, Romeo sneaks into the Capulets’ orchard, and the two profess their love for each other, not caring their families are enemies or feuding.

Juliet’s family want her to marry a man named Paris, but Juliet does not love him.  Romeo and Juliet go behind their families’ backs and get married, only for Juliet to find out the next day she is to marry Paris in three days.  Romeo gets banished from the land for killing Tybalt, Juliet’s cousin, in a fight.  A plan is constructed to reunite the lovers.  Romeo is to return, and Juliet is to drink a potion that makes her appear dead.  Juliet will then be delivered to her family’s crypt, where the friar will reunite Romeo and Juliet.  However, the plan never gets to Romeo, and he only hears Juliet is dead.  Distraught and depressed, he kills himself over her “corpse.”  When Juliet awakes and sees her lover dead, she, too, kills herself.

The first glimpse of immaturity and its effects on the characters in the play is at the ball.  Romeo is so madly in love with this Rosaline he will do anything just to see her.  He agrees to go the ball to get his mind off her, knowing she will be there.  However, when he lays eyes on Juliet, he falls in love with her.  It takes him about two seconds to fall out of love with one girl and in love with another.  This shows a lack of emotional maturity.  Romeo is around sixteen, and he doesn’t even know Juliet.  He doesn’t even know her name, yet he is madly in love with her.  Really, all he knows about her is her beauty, and that is what he is in love with, at least for the time.  However, beauty is not something that can sustain a relationship or a marriage.  It takes so much more than that, and that is all Romeo knows.

The next time we see the issue of immaturity return is when Romeo and Juliet decide to get married.  Romeo is around sixteen and Juliet is not yet fourteen.  A thirteen-year-old girl and a sixteen-year-old boy running off behind their parents’ backs to get married because they’re “in love,” when they’ve known each other less than 24  hours, oozes immaturity.  You cannot be in love with someone you do not completely know.  You can be in love with the idea of them, but not them themselves.  There is no possible way Romeo or Juliet truly knew the other when they had only met less than 24 hours before the marriage.

The third and final time we see Romeo and Juliet act immaturely is when they both commit suicide over the idea of being alone.  When Romeo thinks Juliet is dead, he is so saddened by the idea of a life without her he thinks he cannot bear it, and he commits suicide.  When Juliet wakes up and sees Romeo has killed himself, she, like him, does not think life is worth living because she cannot bear the world without him, and she, too, kills herself.  The two “lovers” kill themselves over “love” when they have known each other maybe a week.  If Romeo can fall out of love with Rosaline and in love with Juliet in less than a minute, what’s to say he couldn’t fall out of love with Juliet and in love with another girl after Juliet was supposedly “off the table” because he thought she was dead?  Romeo makes an immature snap judgment to kill himself because his immaturity fails to let him see all the other things life has to offer.  He doesn’t think life will have anything to offer except Juliet.  Juliet is also extremely immature because she reacts the exact same way Romeo does.  Juliet is only thirteen, and she kills herself over “love.”   Most thirteen-year-olds honestly don’t fully understand love and all its implications, as evidenced by Juliet.

These two teens essentially lose their lives due to their closed mindset and immaturity.  They have absolutely no control over their emotions, they do not obey their parents, and they commit suicide at the thought of living without one another.  Had Romeo not been so immature he could’ve lived the rest of his life with Juliet, although it is highly unlikely their marriage would’ve even lasted because the two hardly knew each other.  The effects of their own lack of maturity are seen in their deaths.

Movement Three: “Marriage in the 16th Century Compared to the 21st Century,” Schyler Kucera

Marriage has greatly changed between the 16th century and the 21st century.  New Shorter Oxford Dictionary defines marriage in the 16th century as “Legally recognized personal union entered into by a man and a woman usu., with the intention of living together and having sexual relations, and entailing property and inheritance rights.”  Merriam-Webster defines marriage in the 21st century as “the state of being united to a person of the opposite sex as husband or wife in a consensual and contractual relationship recognized by law; the state of being united to a person of the same sex in a relationship like that of a traditional marriage.”

Couples in the 16th century did not marry each other out of love, and they were married young.  It was believed to be foolish to marry for love.  In the 16th century, one you would not choose whom you would marry.  Your friends and family sought out a good spouse for you.  It was done this way because they believed your friends and family were better set to look for whom you would be a good fit.  Because of this, they believed one would have a happier marriage.

People got married because they were ready to have children and run their own home.  Wives were property of their husbands and obeyed them because they were the head of the house.  In some cases, a husband would abuse their wives. Even if they had an unhappy marriage, the two would stay together. Divorce was not an option.

Same-sex marriage was banned.  Guys did not have intimate relations with other men, and women did not have intimate relations with other women (legally).  It was not accepted; those who did were cast out and shunned by the society.

Today, in the 21st century, couples are not getting married as young.  People want to get their lives together before they start a family.  Women are now allowed to do more in society, and their roles are not limited to just being a wife.  Because of that, women want to be successful and prove they can succeed without a man.

There are no more arranged marriages in the West; people marry whom they want.  Couples also marry for love instead of family or economic reasons.  Another big difference between the 21st century and the 16th century is interracial marriages.  People can marry between races and not be looked down upon by the entire community.

People marry whom they want.  However, divorce is also very common.  When a couple isn’t happy together anymore, they just get a divorce.  The biggest difference between then and now is same-sex marriage.  Today, same-sex marriage is accepted and several states have passed bills allowing same-sex marriages.

In Romeo and Juliet, Romeo is a Montague and Juliet is a Capulet.  Their families do not get along and Montagues and Capulets are not allowed to associate with each other.  Since both families are high in society, marriage for their children are arranged by their parents.  Wealthy children often would be married into other rich families.  One night however, Romeo and Juliet meet and fall in love.  Going against their families, society, and the rules, the two marry for love.

This play displays a mix between both past marriage customs and today’s marriage customs.  Examples of past marriage customs are the expectation of an arranged marriage, being married young, and the expectation for children to obey their parents.  The similarity to today’s customs include marrying for love, marrying whom one wants, and doing everything possible to be with that person.  The penalty for not following the customs, keeping secrets, and disobeying is their deaths.

Marriage has changed drastically over the years.  People have become more involved in doing what they want, marrying whom they want, and if things work out they work out, but if things don’t work out then divorce is an easy opt out.  Women also have more rights and opportunities today, which really affects the marriage structure.  Marriage customs between the two centuries are significantly different but are both seen in Romeo and Juliet.

Bibliography

Coontz, Stephanie. “Past, Present, Future of Marriage.” The Examiner. 25 Nov. 2005. Web. 9 Dec. 2014.

Ros, Maggi. “More Wedding Customs.” Life in Elizabethan England 62. 22 Mar. 2008. Web. 9 Dec. 2014.

Stritof, Sheri. “The Future of Marriage and Its Past.” About. 18 Nov. 2010. Web. 11 Dec. 2014.

Movement Four: “A Tragic Example in Shakespeare,” Elise Lang Mahan

Containing Kings and noblemen, deceit and rage, and war and love, King Lear is noted for tragic suffering and deception.  Regarded by many as “the best written tragedy,” King Lear is considered one of Shakespeare’s “supreme achievements.”  Shakespeare drafted King Lear between 1603 with the play’s first performance in 1607.  After the Restoration of the English monarchy, beginning in 1660, Shakespeare’s tragedy of the nominal King of Britain was revised.  This happened in such a way the play ended with a more appealing, happy event other than the one of suffering and death provided by Shakespeare himself.

The horrid ending portrayed in King Lear is not the only reason as to why the play was placed in the same category as other Tragedies.  For four specific elements explored in English class, this widely known play is considered a tragedy.

The first characteristic states there is primarily one hero; it is seen in King Lear Lear himself is this hero.  Tragedies typically have the kind of “tragically-flawed hero.”  For Lear, there are three noticeable observations allowing him to be considered one of these tragic heroes.  The Hero must have flaws, be a victim of others’ greed, and be the cause of the audience’s sympathy.  Lear, although a royal protagonist, is prideful, blind, and has the inability to cope.  These flaws are noticed in three separate examples in the play.

After deciding to generously divide his kingdom evenly between his three daughters, King Lear demands to be shown, by his daughters, how much, if at all, they love him.  This pride of seeking affection and love from others eventually leads to his downfall after the youngest daughter is unable to express, in words, her love and appreciation for her father.  It is because of his blindness the King disowns his youngest daughter and forces her to leave.  He is unable to see the false affection and praise the eldest daughters shower him with.

Along with pride and blindness, King Lear is unable to cope with his royalty.  He wants to possess the title of King but does not wish to have the responsibilities that come with it.  Because of this inability to use his authority wisely, the eldest daughters usurp that authority.

King Lear is a victim of the greed of his own daughters through their manipulative effect on him.  They manipulate Lear and, as a result, he goes insane and wanders in the heath during a terrible storm.  Despite these flaws and manipulations, the audience has slight sympathy for him knowing he was initially a generous and fair ruler by dividing his land into three sections for his daughters.  Because King Lear is a victim of others’ greed, he is still considered a hero and from his dramatic downfall, a tragic one.

A second element of a tragedy is the depiction of a troubled part in the hero’s life.  King Lear, being the established tragic hero, has noticeably troubling areas of his life.  For starters, Lear has “lost” all three of his daughters.  He disowns the youngest out of rage and then flees from the two elder daughters, knowing they are betraying him.  Lear is eventually captured and brought to Dover, where two armies, the French army fighting to save Lear and the English army trying to prevent that rescue, battle each other.  The French army, led by the youngest daughter, is defeated by the English, resulting in the recapturing of King Lear and his daughter.  With all this suffering, it is no surprise when Lear, the hero of the play, dies from grief at the passing of his faithful youngest daughter.

Relating to the suffering experienced by King Lear, the third element of the tragedy is the exceptional suffering.  Not only does the troubled King experience this pain, but so does the despairing nobleman Gloucester.  The quarrel between his two children, illegitimate son Edmund and legitimate son Edgar, is unbearable for the elder as Edmund tricks his father to think Edgar is trying to kill him.  After Edgar flees, Gloucester finds King Lear, who is in distress from his daughters.  Gloucester offers him help and assistance, but it isn’t to last as the two eldest daughters find this as treason.  The unlucky suffering comes to Gloucester when he is blinded and turned out to the countryside to wander alone.  All this pain is put to rest when Gloucester dies toward the end of the play.  With all this suffering, the tragedy is exceptional as there seems no end to it , and it even is included in the major scenes of the play.

As a final element of Shakespearean tragedy, chance or accidents are able to influence actions of the characters.  This is noticed after Edgar flees from his father and disguises himself to avoid the search party trying to locate and kill him.  It isn’t until after Gloucester is blinded and thrown to wander by himself that Edgar finds him alone.  Being the faithful son he is to his father, Edgar serves as the caretaker of Gloucester, leading him to the city, Dover.  Edgar allows this chance, reuniting with his blind father while disguised, to help Gloucester from committing suicide and by taking him to Dover where Lear is also.

There is far too much anguish and deceit among the characters for the play to be considered as anything but a tragedy.  Although the other eleven elements we learned of tragedy were not mentioned, enough examples from the play are given to persuade the reader King Lear belongs in the category of Shakespeare Tragedy.

Songs of Innocence, pt. 1: Ex Nihilo

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Christopher Rush

After a painfully long five-year wait, U2’s latest album, Songs of Innocence, burst on the scene like no album before (and possibly likely since).  For no rational reason, this upset a great number of people for a variety of self-serving reasons.  While we advertised an objective review of the album, we first need to examine the tempestuous piffle that arose about the album’s very existence and entrance into our lives.  Next issue in part two, we will examine the content of the album itself, certainly a much happier exploration.

Not being a mindless consumer erotically devoted to whatever soul-syphoning piece of technological pap advertisements and other minions of Beëlzebub tell me to worship with God’s money, I do not have a cellular phone or a tablet (yes, I have a computer, but it’s used mostly for the performance of my job and manufacturing beautiful things such as this issue, so I’m not wholly opposed to technology qua technology).  Yes, people I love have cellular phones and tablets, and that’s fine for them.  I know from personal experience and interaction they aren’t the mindless cyphers about whom Wordsworth, Johnson, Auden and so many others have written for centuries in the post-Industrial Revolutionary ages.  And certainly you aren’t like that, either.  You, surely, are not addicted to social media or screen fondling of any kind.  It’s them, really.  Those poor saps out there who need our pity and our love.  These are the, well, for lack of a less accurate word, imbeciles who ranted and groused and bloviated about Songs of Innocence appearing unbidden and at no cost whatever to them in their iTunes accounts and on their iPhones and on their iPods and on their iPads.  “How dare U2 put their new album on my device for free!” or words to that effect.  What a world.

I admit freely I have an iTunes account, and I even have an “old” iPod, so I am not trying to hypocritically decry the existence of these things in our lives.  If anyone needs a detailed explanation of the veracity of the topic sentence of the prior paragraph, perhaps we can address that in a future objective, calm exposition (similar to the calm, objective exposition we are experiencing together presently).  I have used my iTunes account infrequently of late, though I admit I have used it in the past for many things such as Intro. to Humanities and personal use in days gone by.  The only time my iPod sees any action is two-fold: a) as an alarm clock (so about 12 seconds a day) and b) when I need to go out and do yard work (so not very much).  I’m not bragging; these are simply the facts.  Like everyone else in the entire universe, when I am instructed to click on the “accept these terms” dialogue box with the option of reading the terms themselves, I click on the box without reading the actual terms.  Before you accuse me of being a “mindless consumer,” please know I don’t have a credit card saved on my iTunes or PlayStation account, so I’m not worried when the countless litanies of account hackings occur, nor am I all that concerned about whatever terms can do to me and my information.  I don’t post any pictures, I don’t have a “smart” phone (preferring, instead to try to be a smart person), and a comment from me on my Facebook page is a wonderfully rare as an album from Boston.  Or, until recently, an album from U2.  If any hooligans want my information, they are probably going to get it without me making it easier on them.  If you want to store bank accounts on your iTunes account, go for it.  The point at present, though, is those “terms of agreement” no one ever reads.  Apparently, one of those terms we all agreed to was letting Apple put an album in our accounts whether we wanted it or not.  You and I agreed to it.  Getting mad at something you agreed to allow happen does not say much for you (not “you,” of course, but those people).

A few issues ago, Rolling Stone (not the most reputable bastion of meaningful discourse or aesthetic opinion, of course) ran a mildly-intriguing cover story about U2 and this hullaballoo.  Adam Clayton, as is his wont, gave us the most helpful insight into the situation.  It was never U2’s intention to foist the album upon every single iTunes and iThis and iThat account.  The band simply wanted to make the album free for download to whoever wanted it.  It was all Apple’s idea to force the album unbidden into your account.  So getting mad at U2 for a) something that isn’t their fault and b) something you agreed to allow Apple to do in their terms of agreement to which you agreed without reading is puerility at its zenith (in this context, at least).  Here was U2, one of the greatest bands of all time, willing to give their latest, long-awaited album to the digital world for free, and much of the digital world responded with vitriol.  What a world.

Some people complained about the apparent “arrogance” of the band and its infatuation with media spotlight.  We have not heard from the band in 5 years!  The 360° Tour ended over three years ago.  If you people know of other appearances by U2 in any significant fashion since then, please let me know — I’d be glad to experience that.  Strange how the same people who own iTunes accounts, iPods, iPads, and other things complain about U2 “selling out” to Apple.  Take a moment and ponder the irony of such a situation.  Sure, the U2-loaded iPod a few years ago may have been a bit extreme, but would the response of an iPod loaded with Disney tunes have received the same backlash?  Doubtful.  A band that does not release music or appear in public until its members are satisfied with their album after over three years of dedication and tinkering and experimenting and soul-searching cannot accurately be labelled “arrogant” or “attention seeking.”  I’m sure they popped on some talkshow or event here and there, but certainly not anything credibly worthy of “arrogant” or “attention seeking.”

Some lesser musician-like people (Nick Mason does not fit here) groused U2’s giving their music away for free was an insult and detrimental betrayal to the hundreds of thousands of struggling musicians who have to sell their music because they aren’t rich and famous like U2, and by setting a precedent of giving their music away for free U2 has permanently damaged the marketplace and all consumers will demand free music forevermore.  First of all, “struggling musician-type person,” by opening your mouth in derision against U2 you have already done far more damage to your reputation than any action U2 could do.  Try to realize you will never be anywhere near as good as they are: your lyrics will be inferior, your musical strains will be inferior, you as an “artist” will forever be inferior to them.  Their actions do not devalue your music: your shoddy, sub-mediocre musicianship devalues your music.  I suppose the complainers in this category made sure they didn’t have any music files they “shared” from anyone and certainly never downloaded any files according to royalty-eschewing methods.  Complaining against a band’s generosity betrays one’s own absence of generosity, proving such complainers are quite likely in the “music business” for all the wrong reasons (perhaps that is too harsh: several of the wrong reasons, then).  I guess they never read Lewis Hyde’s The Gift: Imagination and the Erotic Life of Property.  If you haven’t read that one yet, faithful reader, I urge you to.

Some complained because Songs of Innocence is not revolutionary like Achtung Baby or All That You Can’t Leave Behind; some complained about U2 because they think U2 is old hat.  Well, you can’t please everyone.  A band tries to break away and experiment with new sounds, new feelings, new content, and the “ol’ faithful” are up in arms.  A band maintains its sound, its “tried and true” formulae, and the “ol’ faithful” are up in arms because the band is slacking off and regurgitating and repackaging old material (unless it’s AC/DC).  Is U2 “old hat”?  I tell you what.  U2’s tripartite métier seems to me a) making the world a better place through quality music and thoughtful lyrics, b) advocating universal justice and equal rights, and c) providing for people an enjoyable musical-and-life experience.  If these are “old hat,” the world does not deserve U2, even U2 for free.  If truth and introspection and openhanded generosity of spirit are old fashioned, then we are all in far more trouble than we think we are.

I have been eagerly anticipating Songs of Ascent for over 1,000 days, longer than Anne Boleyn was queen of England.  Out of nowhere, Songs of Innocence appeared.  For free!  11 new songs from one of the best bands of all time.  For free.  11 ultra-personal songs of soul-bearing, openhanded generosity.  I don’t need another Achtung Baby or something “revolutionary.”  A new album from U2 is revolutionary enough.  And I didn’t have to pay for it.

Dear world: U2 has given us a wonderful gift.  As we shall see in part two, it’s also a very good album.  Don’t prove your utter undeserving worthlessness by complaining about it.  Maybe that was too harsh.  I take that back.  Don’t be lump.  No more cynicism.  Be grateful.  Be thankful.  Be gracious.

Thank you, U2.  I, for one, appreciate what you have given us.

Satan’s Illusions of Power and Grandeur

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Nicole Moore Sanborn

In John Milton’s Paradise Lost, Book 1, Satan and his supporters wind up exiled from heaven, and Satan calls forth his troops. Some believe Satan wields true power in hell after his fall from heaven due to Satan’s empowering rhetoric, the seeming control the demons have over their current situation, and their appearance of having free will. However, due to multiple references made to God’s perfect plan, Satan’s inability to resist God, the defeat of demons, and the difference between free will and power, it is apparent Satan does not wield true power in hell after his fall. Strong cases can be argued for both sides. However, through subtleties in Milton’s writing and the nuances he leaves the reader with throughout Book 1, Milton demonstrates Satan’s power is merely illusory.

Throughout Book 1, both Milton and Satan allude to God’s plan for mankind, thereby demonstrating Satan’s power is merely illusory. These obvious declarations of God’s plan is the primary example proving Satan does not wield true power, as the supporting examples tie in to this. Milton announces his purpose in writing Paradise Lost is to “justify the ways of God to men” (26). Book 1, therefore, demonstrates the ways of God by throwing Satan and his followers out of heaven. While the simple declaration of justifying the ways of God to men does not prove Satan’s power is illusory, Milton uses this declaration to pave the way for more compelling examples. For example, Milton begins to justify God’s ways through declaring Satan and his followers were thrown from heaven because they “transgressed his will,” proving God has power over all (31). This example combined with Milton’s references of man eating the forbidden fruit and needing Christ’s redemption proves God especially has power over transgressors of his will. Satan does not have power over God, proven by God’s preparation and knowledge, as further evidenced where Milton states hell was a place “Eternal Justice had prepared for those rebellious” (70-71). The preparation of hell is a compelling statement illustrating Satan’s lack of power and foreknowledge. If Satan wielded true power, he would have been able to resist God throwing him from heaven. Furthermore, Milton notes paradise, or heaven, was lost to mankind “till one greater Man / Restore us” (3-4). By “greater Man,” Milton means Jesus Christ, the Son of God. Milton’s reference to the restoration of mankind proves God’s foresight over the whole situation, as this example works together with the later declarations of God’s divine power and foresight over Satan attempting to thwart him. The aforementioned qualities of God are juxtaposed to Satan’s lack of control and power.

Some could argue evidence for the argument of Satan wielding power lies in the powerful rhetoric of his speeches, where he gives the other demons hope. Other evidence from his speeches says otherwise, where Satan and Beelzebub recognize God’s power. When these references to God’s power by Satan and Beelzebub are analyzed in relation to God’s overarching plan for mankind, the idea of Satan’s power being illusory becomes evident.

Satan’s uses rhetoric in a fruitless attempt to perpetuate his illusion of power. His misconception of power partially stems from observations of the sheer number of his followers. In discussing the issue of being thrown from heaven, Satan remarks that he “brought along / Innumerable force of spirits armed / That durst dislike his reign, and me preferring” (100-102). Simply because Satan has followers does not mean he has power. Satan attempts to rally his troops by saying, “all is not lost” (106), later realizing the folly of his illusion.

The synthesis of Satan and Beelzebub’s rhetoric further contradicts the idea of Satan wielding true power. Beelzebub says to Satan that he “endangered Heav’ns perpetual King” (131), and Satan refers to God as the “Monarch in Heav’n” (638). Satan and Beelzebub both directly state God’s kingship. Satan’s use of the specific word “perpetual” must be noted here. Since Satan attempted to reign in heaven and failed, thereby only acquiring followers in heaven for a temporary time, his exile from heaven directly contrasts God’s perpetual kingship in heaven. The lines where Satan perpetuates his idea of power are contradictory not only to the truth, as God’s foresight and plan for mankind was proven above, but also contradict later lines where Satan admits God’s power and therefore questions his own. Due to his misapprehension of power, Satan underestimates God’s power. Satan notes God concealed his strength, which “tempted our attempt, and wrought our fall” (642). Here, Satan admits God has more power than him, a realization he doesn’t come to until his exile. Beelzebub also admits God is omnipotent, and his argument is none but the omnipotent could have foiled their plan to thwart heaven (273). God is portrayed as “all powerful,” realized by Satan when he admits God concealed his own strength, especially because Satan mentions (in agreement with Beelzebub) only an almighty power could have thwarted him from overtaking heaven. Clearly, God is almighty in this text, because, by Satan’s logic, if only an almighty power can thwart him, and Satan was thwarted and thrown from heaven into hell, the argument that follows is God is almighty. By Satan’s own logic, he destroys the idea of having power, though he believes in other passages that he has power. Deep down, Satan knows he does not have true power, but will fight God anyway.

Furthermore, Satan’s illusions of power and grandeur caused him to attempt to thwart God, and Milton’s writing demonstrates what a fruitless attempt that was. Beings of power can resist beings of other power, meaning if one truly has power, he should be able to fight someone else with power for at least a small amount of time. Satan could not resist God. Milton states Satan “trusted to have equaled the Most High” (40). This manifests a judgment of Satan through noting his illusions of grandeur of attaining equality with God. Milton declares Satan waged war against heaven “With vain attempt,” an outright statement Satan’s war against God was completely vain and produced no fruitful results (44). That is, produced no fruitful results to the end of Satan gaining equality with God and therefore power over heaven. His fruitless attempt was due to his illusion and “trust” of possessing equality with God. To prove further Satan’s attempt to overthrow God was fruitless, Milton states the “Almighty Power / Hurled headlong flaming” (44-45). Not only did Satan fail to thwart God, God saw this in advance and violently flung Satan from the sky. A few lines later, Satan and his cohorts “lay vanquished” (52). The term “vanquished” connotes an utter destruction of a foe, meaning God did not just win the battle but vanquished Satan. Not only this, but God subjected Satan to a place where there is “torture without end,” torture Satan has no power to change but can only make the most of through acting more evil (67). When Satan attempts to pick himself back up, he observes his number of followers to puff up his own hubris, as referenced earlier.

Satan cannot heal himself, and therefore does not have true power. A striking example of Satan’s illusion of power is after God throws him out of heaven Satan is disfigured. If Satan truly wielded power, he would have been able to heal his face and the lightning would not have altered his appearance. Clearly Satan could not heal himself, because Milton writes “but his face / Deep scars of thunder had intrenched” (600-601). Here, “intrenched” means furrowed. Though Satan still shone and could shape shift, as noted when he stretches himself out in length (609), Satan did not have the power to alter the deep scars God’s power left upon him. This fact also relates back to God’s foresight over the whole situation, because God prepared Christ to restore mankind to heaven and prepared a place for Satan and his followers in hell.

Some would equate free will with power and therefore make the argument that because Satan and his followers have free will, they have power. The question remaining is why God would give Satan and his followers free will without power. However, correlation is not causation here. Free will and power are different things. Satan had the will to fight God in heaven, but his exile proves he did not have power. The demons do have free will, evidenced in their ability to shape shift. Milton says the demons “transform / Oft to the image of a brute” (370-371). The references mentioned above where the demons reference God’s omnipotence must be taken into account. God, in his omnipotence, gave the demons free will and prepared a place in hell for them (70-71). But, God had foresight and prepared a redemption plan for the world (3-4) despite man’s disobedience. God has omnipotence; the demons only have free will. 

Despite the fact many demons listed in the catalogues of demons were undefeated, mankind and God were victorious over others, which proves Satan’s idea of power is false. God’s forces did not defeat many demons listed, and some will attempt to use this fact in favor of the argument of Satan wielding power. Among the undefeated demons are Moloch, Baalim and Ashtaroth (plural forms of the male and female gods, respectively), Astoreth, Bimmon, and Belial. While it seems an overwhelming number were not defeated in the text, in the beginning of Book 1 Milton foreshadows a future event involving the “Greater man” who will redeem mankind (3-4) not only from the forces of hell but also from these specific demons. Therefore, by foreshadowing early in Book 1, Milton demonstrates Satan’s power is illusory, despite the later references saying demons gained some power over mankind. Simply because a select few gain power over mankind does not mean Satan has true power over eternity. In favor of Satan’s power being merely illusory, Milton mentions major demons that were defeated by God’s forces. The text states Josiah drove Chemos to hell (418). Chemos was worshipped in Israel and caused lustful orgies. Another catalogue of demons include Osiris, Isis, and Orus, all worshipped in Egypt. The text says “Jehovah…who in one night…equaled with one stroke…all her bleating gods” (487-489). By “equaled” Milton means leveled. Although fewer demons are defeated than worshipped, due to Milton’s foreshadowing of the restoration of mankind and humans thwarting the demons (Josiah) as well as God (Jehovah), the text proves Satan’s power is merely illusory. If his power were real, the demons could not be vanquished and Satan would rule not only on earth but also in heaven.

Satan and his comrades are powerless when matched against God’s almighty power and plan. Although some believe Satan wields true power in hell after his fall from heaven, Satan’s “power” is merely illusory. Through the nuances obtained from reading Satan’s speeches, subtleties in Milton’s writing, and God’s continual display of power, it becomes clear Satan is powerless. Satan will attempt to fulfill his illusions of power and grandeur and attempt to thwart God’s plans, to no avail.

History of Science Fiction

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Chris Glock

Science fiction has arguably existed since the first recorded fiction, while others believe it wasn’t later until 5th century BC.  “Why isn’t there a clear start to science fiction?” you might ask.  Well, because there is no easy way to say something is or isn’t science fiction, many of these older stories only include one or two parts relating to science fiction, but for some people that’s enough to classify the whole story as sci-fi.  The only common consensus seems to be the term “Science fiction” was an invention of the 20th century.

Since its creation, it has changed drastically, going through several eras and forms.  Today it’s one of the largest genres with many other stories from other genres having science fiction within them.  No two works are alike; some focus more on the science while others more on the stories resulting in a broad genre containing thousands of stories.

The first fictional story was the Sumerian The Epic of Gilgamesh.  While many agree it isn’t science fiction, it is however argued by a few well-known science fiction writers such as Lester Del Rey and  Pierre Versins to be the first science fiction novel based on its quest for immortality.  Other early works argued to be the first include the Hindu epic Ramayana (5th to 4th century BC) based on its inclusion of flying machines.  The Syrian-Greek “True History,” due to its many science fiction themes such as travel to outer space, encounters with alien life, interplanetary warfare, creatures as products of human technology, and worlds working by a set of alternate physical laws, also makes a case for the earliest science fiction work.

As many new scientific theories were being discovered, a new type of literature rose to popularity.  Due to the yearning to discover new scientific advances people begin fantasizing about the endless possibilities science had to offer in life.  Thomas More wrote Utopia about a society that had perfected their society technologically and politically.  This not only led to the utopia motif but also coined the word itself.

During the Age of Reason, many science fiction stories were released about space travel.  Johannes Kepler’s Somnium depicts a journey to the moon.  Both Carl Sagan and Isaac Asimov believe this is the first true science fiction story.  Shakespeare’s The Tempest, while not a science fiction story, creates a template for the mad-scientist archetype.

These trends continued to grow into the 19th century.  Most notably from this time was Marry Shelley’s Frankenstein, which features the mad-scientist archetype and popularized it as a sub-genre.  Jules Verne and H.G. Wells both wrote many novels in this genre considered classics.  H.G. Wells wrote novels like The Time Machine, in which he attempts to explain his views on society during his time.  Verne, however, wrote more fantastical adventure novels that sought to tell a story.  Journey to the Center of the Earth and Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea are examples of his works.

The period of the 1940s through 1950s is referred to as the Golden Age.  During this time science fiction began to be taken as a more serious form of literature.  John W. Campbell became famed in the genre as an editor and publisher of science fiction magazines.  With his guidance, the focus shifted away from the technology to the characters, from hard to soft science fiction.  During this time, the space opera rose to popularity, which has nothing to do with opera itself but is a play on the term soap opera.  In the Golden age many stories began to contain deeper psychological focus with writers putting their own ideologies into the writing.

As the Golden Age slowly died off, “new wave” science fiction began to surface.  The ’60s and ’70s were full of experimentation in both style and content.  It focused even less on scientific accuracy than the previous Golden Age.  Writers also began to tackle more controversial topics like sexuality and political issues away from which writers had previously stayed.

Works Referenced

More, Thomas. Utopia. 1516. Print.

Shakespeare, Wlliam. The Tempest. 1610/11. Print.

Shelley, Mary. Frankenstein. London: Lackington, Hughes, Harding, Mavor & Jones, 1818. Print.

Verne, Jules. Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea. Paris: Pierre-Jules Hetzel, 1870. Print.

Wells, Herbert G. The Time Machine. London: William Heinemann, 1895. Print.

—. The War of the Worlds. London: William Heinemann, 1898. Print.

Letting the Story Go: Why Disney’s Frozen is a Terrible Movie

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Elizabeth Knudsen

Before any court case is filed, there is a valid reason as to why the recent Disney blockbuster Frozen is in fact a film that could be classified as “bad.”  Although many fans are unaware of this, the beloved film is based off of a lesser-known folktale, following the style of most preceding Disney classics.  The title of this folktale is “The Snow Queen,” and it was written by Hans Christian Andersen.  At first one might think there’s no problem, but unfortunately, when the individual story and movie, respectively, are examined and compared, the inconsistencies are startling.  Three basic categories can be used to contrast the two.  These three categories are plot, characters, and morals or themes.

The original Frozen, Hans Christian Andersen’s folktale “The Snow Queen,” was actually written as a seven-part story.  These seven parts relate the adventures of a girl named Gerda, who goes on a journey to save her friend Kai, a boy.  The story begins with a brief backstory concerning a wicked hobgoblin — sometimes referred to as the Devil himself — who creates a mirror that shrinks everything beautiful in a thing and magnifies everything ugly.  The hobgoblin and his minions plot to take the mirror up to Heaven to make fools of God and the angels, but on the way up it slips from their grasps and shatters into billions of pieces.  These pieces, some no larger than a grain of sand, are blown all around the world; they make people’s hearts as frozen as blocks of ice and settle in their eyes, distorting their vision as the full mirror would.

Years after this event took place, the two main characters enter; Gerda and Kai.  The two are neighbors who share window boxes filled with roses and are as dear to one another as brother and sister.  Kai’s grandmother tells the two children stories of the Snow Queen and her “snow bees” (the snow flakes).

One winter, Kai sees the Snow Queen from his window, beckoning for him to come to her.  He backs away in fear.  Kai’s grandmother teaches the two children a hymn, two lines of which are repeated throughout the story.  The summer after Kai glimpses the Snow Queen, shards of the terrible mirror get into his eyes and heart.  As he and Gerda are at their window boxes, he becomes cruel and loves Gerda no more.  He destroys their window-box garden and instead gains an aptitude for math and physics and becomes fascinated by the only things that seem beautiful and perfect to him anymore: snowflakes.

One day after that, the Snow Queen comes to him in a disguise while he is playing in the town square.  She kisses him twice — first to numb the cold, second to make him forget all about his family and Gerda — but no more, because three kisses would kill him.  She takes Kai to her palace, near the North Pole.  While Kai is gone, the townspeople get the idea he drowned in a nearby river.  Gerda is heartbroken and refuses to believe it, so she goes to look for him.  The river tells her it did not drown her friend by refusing to take her new red shoes, and a rosebush tells her Kai is not among the dead, as it could see under the earth.  A sorceress who lives near the rosebush tries to keep Gerda with her, but Gerda flees.  A crow tells her Kai is at the princess’s palace, but the prince only looks like Kai.  The princess and the prince provide her with warm clothes and a beautiful coach to aid her on her journey.

On her way, however, Gerda is beset by robbers and taken prisoner.  She quickly befriends a little robber girl, whose pet doves tell her they saw the Snow Queen take Kai toward Lapland.  A reindeer captured from Lapland named Bae is freed by the little robber girl along with Gerda and the two ride to Lapland, making two stops.  One stop is at a Lapp woman’s house, the other at a Finn woman’s house, the latter tells Gerda she can save Kai because she is remarkably pure.

Once she reaches the Snow Queen’s castle, snowflakes try to stop her, but they are stopped by the angel shape her breath takes as she says the Lord’s Prayer.  Kai is alone inside the palace, trying to solve the Snow Queen’s puzzle to earn his freedom and a pair of skates.  He must spell the word “eternity” using ice shards she gave him.  Gerda runs to him and saves him with a kiss and her tears, which melt the shard or mirror in his heart and cause him to remember her, which causes Kai himself to burst into tears, removing the shards in his eyes.  The two are so overjoyed they dance together, and in their dance the ice shards are jostled to form the word “eternity,” gaining Kai his freedom.  The two then leave the Snow Queen’s kingdom with the help of Gerda’s friends, and they return home to find they have grown up, and it is summertime.

Although there are several characters in this story, the hero is clearly Gerda, and the villain is clearly the Snow Queen.  Kai could also be considered a main character, although he isn’t actually in the story that much.  Prominent themes are female strength — displayed in both the Snow Queen and Gerda —  as well as a true, realistic ending.  It is suggested true happiness is found through purity of heart and strength, which appear through childhood.

Turning to the movie Frozen, one has an entirely different storyline.  Elsa and Anna, two sisters, are princesses of a fictional realm called Arendelle.  Elsa has the ability to produce snow and ice and general winter at will but is not able to control it.  On the night of her coronation, the young queen loses control in front of her kingdom after being a shut-in for many years and flees to a distant mountain, after accidentally setting off an eternal winter across her kingdom.  Her younger sister Anna blames herself — she got mad because her sister did not sanction her marrying a Prince Hans of the Southern Isles — and goes after her, recruiting troubled Kristoff and his reindeer Sven along the way to help her.

On their way, they meet a living snowman named Olaf (who loves warm hugs), who leads them to the secret passageway to Elsa’s ice castle.  Elsa, while her kingdom is freezing and her sister is almost getting eaten by wolves, has transformed herself into an ice-wearing self-actualizer, when in fact she is still very much afraid of herself and of others.  Anna tries to tell her she will help Elsa work through anything, but Elsa loses control again after hearing she froze Arendelle, and her powers strike Anna in the heart; an act which is known to be nearly fatal.

With only the hope of an act of true love from Hans to save her, Kristoff, Sven, and Olaf rush Anna back to the castle.  However, Hans has been planning to take over Arendelle all along and leaves Anna to die while going to capture Elsa, claiming Anna had died already.  However, while Hans is off capturing Elsa, Olaf rescues Anna from freezing to death.  Anna realizes Kristoff is the one who truly loves her, and she loves him back, so she runs across the frozen river toward him, but as she is turning to ice she sees her escaped sister, kneeling broken-hearted on the ice after hearing Hans’s lie about Anna’s death.  Anna turns from her path to Kristoff and leaps in front of Hans’s sword just as he tries to kill Elsa, and she turns to ice.  Elsa is shocked and even more devastated and throws herself onto the ice statue that was once her sister and sobs as Kristoff draws near.

But then, a breath is seen, and the girls’ sisterly love is strong enough to bring Anna back.  Then Elsa realizes the key to controlling her powers and bringing back summer is love.  The movie ends with a hint Kristoff and Anna end up together, while Elsa hosts kingdom-wide ice skating parties in the palace courtyard whenever she feels like it.

As one can see, the main characters are quite different.  The “Snow Queen” is not the villain after all, instead she is a misunderstood sociopath.  Her sister Anna is the hero and is supported by Kristoff, Sven, and Olaf along the way.  Themes in the movie include sisterly love, female strength, and the importance of staying true to oneself.

It is pretty obvious the words “based on” meant something a lot looser than one might at first think.  The plots of the tales are completely different.  One story makes the Snow Queen a villain, the other doesn’t.  It would be a completely different ballgame if Disney had done something like the Broadway musical Wicked, where the story is told from the Wicked Witch of the West’s perspective, and thus one is given a different outlook on L. Frank Baum’s The Wizard of Oz.  But instead, Disney decided to take an idea — the idea of a queen who could control snow — and make it into something nothing like the original story.  And not only that, but they didn’t even try to present any fresh values in the movie.  All of them have been done before; sisterly love in Lilo and Stitch; feminine strength or “girls can fight, too” or “girls don’t need a man to save her” in Mulan and Brave; the importance of staying true to oneself in every single Disney classic except for The Little Mermaid.

What is most ironic, however, is the fact in the original folktale there was an even better storyline to suggest a girl doesn’t need a man to save her: Gerda saves Kai.  And over all, it would have be more beneficial in today’s culture for girls to hear strength and purity of character are what really count, not self-actualization and “letting it go.”  Girls are surrounded by the pressure to be yourself (while ending up being like everyone else) enough every day.  They didn’t need a Disney movie to confirm it.

In the end, Frozen still made millions in the box office, because it fed girls across the world what they wanted to hear, disguised in a catchy tune.  But that doesn’t make it a good movie.  In fact, it makes it a bad movie.  It doesn’t make people think; it entertains them for two and a half hours and then encourages them to be singing “Let it Go” for the rest of the day, because that’s the message Frozen represents.  No one should have to change (despite the fact change is a part of life), and people should just deal with others’ emotional and mental problems without trying to help them with it.  Love — whatever that means — is the answer to all of life’s problems.  Frozen versus “The Snow Queen” is just one example of the decline of book-to-movie adaptions.

Works Referenced

Andersen, Hans C. The Snow Queen. 2nd ed. Vol. 1. Denmark: n.p., 1844. N. pag. New Fairy Tales. Print.

Buck, Chris and Jennifer Lee, dir. Frozen. Writ. Chris Buck, Jennifer Lee, and Shane Morris. Walt Disney Studio Motion Pictures, 2013. DVD-ROM.

Anarchy in V for Vendetta

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Alex Touchet

The character V from the book V for Vendetta, written by Alan Moore, has become more than just a graphic novel character.  He has grown to be a symbol for freedom; he is the face of rebellion against tyranny.  The “hacktivist” group Anonymous has even adopted the Guy Fawkes mask as their icon.  The visage of the fictional terrorist has evolved beyond a mere picture; Moore’s creation has transcended the world of fiction and become an internationally recognized metaphor for individual rights, activism, and anarchy.  Sadly, many people wrongly associate the word “anarchy” with a mental picture that looks like a scene out of movies such as The Purge or Lord of the Flies.  These people visualize a nation ruled by lawlessness, disorder, and chaos.  This is a fairly shallow interpretation of the goals V intended to achieve in Moore’s dystopian England; in fact, those cinematic examples are not in any way an accurate representation of true anarchy.  What does anarchy really mean?  Does V qualify as an anarchist?  Are his actions in accordance with anarchist values?  Does V intend to institute an anarchist society after the fall of England’s totalitarian government?  This paper will evaluate all of these questions and attempt to provide an objective viewpoint through which the reader can effectively evaluate anarchy as presented in Moore’s novel.

The word “anarchy” is defined by the Oxford English Dictionary as the “absence of government and absolute freedom of the individual, regarded as a political ideal.”  The word’s roots come from the Greek word “anarkhia.”  The word stems from “anarkhos,” which effectively means “without a ruler.”  It is important to note this explicitly says without a ruler; it does not imply terms like “chaos” or “disorder.”  This correctly contradicts a common view of anarchism, which interprets the political view as promoting a land of “Do whatever you want.”  This should not be defined as anarchy; instead, it is an example of something called “omniarchy.”  An example of this view can be found in the movie The Dark Knight.  The Joker is often called an anarchist.  This is completely incorrect.  “Whereas anarchists want to do away with the coercive hierarchy of any person over any person, the Joker wishes to impose upon all a coercive hierarchy of each person over each person.  In a very literal sense, the Joker wants what Hobbes called the war of all against all, the entire breakdown of society, the reign of chaos” (Peak).

In reality, anarchy’s vendetta is to create a land of “Do whatever you want as long as it does not interfere with the natural rights of other individuals.”  A person who imposes himself as a hierarchical authority over another person is in violation of this basic concept.  The main goal of true anarchists is to create a society in which no individual is imposing himself over another.  Therefore, all anarchists must follow the rule of the nonaggression axiom.

This term essentially means any initiatory violence or violation of another human’s natural rights is prohibited.  However, except in the case of some anarchopacifists such as Leo Tolstoy, most anarchists do not prohibit retaliatory violence.  In the case of person A attempting to rape person B, if person B were to pull a gun on person A, he/she (the victim) would not be in violation of the nonaggression axiom.  It is important to note the retaliatory aggression must be equal to the initiatory aggression, because otherwise, the original victim would be imposing himself or herself upon the aggressor as a hierarchical authority and therefore be in violation of basic anarchist ideology.

Now that the exact meaning of true anarchy has been adequately defined, the next step in understanding it in context of Moore’s novel is to decide whether or not V is a true anarchist, or if he is just attempting to impose an anarchist society upon England.  For V to fit the anarchist prototype, he must meet the previously outlined qualifications.  The most important of these qualifications is his actions in relation to the nonaggression axiom.

For V to be a real anarchist, he must act without initiating a violation of other individuals’ rights.  Remember this does not include retaliatory action, just initiatory action.  It would be easy to claim since V is a terrorist, he immediately violates this precept.  The buildings or locations he destroys, in order, are the Larkhill Resettlement Camp, Parliament, Jordan Tower, and the Post Office Tower.  He generally destroys these buildings during times when he was unaware of any human occupation: for instance, the Parliament building has been unused for years, and most likely unoccupied at the hour at which it was blown up.  When he blows up the Resettlement Camp, it is not specified whether or not anyone is killed or injured, other than in the instance with the mustard gas.

The author of an article appropriately titled “Is V an Anarchist?” claims this terrorism in itself is not in violation of the nonaggression axiom because it does not qualify as theft.  “While the state claims ownership of [the buildings], we must remember that the state acquires all of its property through expropriation, through usurpation, through theft.  The state’s so-called ‘ownership’ over these buildings is, according to the theory of property we posit above, completely illegitimate.  The buildings are actually in a Lockean ‘state of nature,’ and since they are not properly owned by anyone, V’s destruction of them cannot properly be considered theft” (Peak).

The only recorded death via bombing is of the man named Etheridge.  It could be argued he is effectively a criminal because of his involvement with the state, but it is unknown whether or not any of his individual actions are immoral enough to merit death.  Remember retaliatory action should, in violence and/or severity, never surpass the initiatory actions that preceded it.  Since V could not have been aware of this specific man’s acts, his death is not justified in regard to the anarchist theory of retaliatory ethicality.  Would V, still unaware of the man’s acts, have been justified in killing Etheridge if he had indeed committed acts worthy of execution?  This is up for debate.  It is my personal opinion V is indeed guilty of murder in this case, even if unknowingly so, and therefore violates the nonaggression axiom.

Another problem with claiming V is a true anarchist is his treatment of the individuals who were involved with his imprisonment.  He systematically kills many of them in a form that resembles coldblooded murder.  While it is arguable the execution of many of these people is justified retaliation for their actions involving the prisoners at the Larkhill Camp, the novel does not specifically mention their exact actions against specific individuals and so makes it difficult to determine if they meet the non-pacifist anarchist qualifications for execution. 

A third example of V not upholding anarchist values can be seen in his treatment of Evey.  He does not allow her to leave his base of operations, effectively imprisoning her against her will.  This is an obvious violation of her individual rights.  More importantly, V subjects Evey to extensive physical and psychological torture, which, even as an attempt to open her mind, still qualifies as torture.  While V obviously believes his ends justify his means, his actions violate the nonaggression axiom and therefore remain unethical in nature.  It is safe to say V does not personally meet the requirements for a truly anarchist individual; however, this is not to say his intentions for dystopian English society are not anarchistic.

One of V’s most relevant quotations in relation to his intentions for society come from his public announcement during the prologue of Book Three: “For three days, your movements will not be watched….  Your conversations will not be listened to … and ‘Do as thou wilt’ shall be the whole of the law.  God bless you … and goodnight” (Moore 187).  It would be easy to take from this V’s motives are in line with those of the Joker’s, since he apparently wishes to create a state of disorder, confusion, and chaos.

However, V’s endgame is not to create chaos merely for the sake of an omniarchy; instead, he believes it is “a stage … society must go through … before anarchism can be realised” (Peak).  He specifically tells Evey on page 195, “This is not anarchy, Eve.  This is chaos” (Moore).  It is clear V understands the fundamentals of an anarchist society and is attempting to create such a society by teaching its citizens what happens without order.  He believes through this process England will realize the only true path to freedom is through voluntary order, which is an important part of anarchistic values.

In conclusion, V has been shown to violate anarchistic values and therefore does not qualify as a true, purely anarchistic individual.  While this is the case, it is still possible his intentions for a future England are really anarchistic.  This has been shown by his treatment of the general public in England and by his logic he presents to Evey when she confronts him about how he sent English society spiraling into chaos.  It is safe to say V does indeed intend to create a free anarchist society, even if he does not meet every qualification for such a society himself.  This can be quantified as a result of his own personal vendetta against the people who imprisoned and experimented upon him; his violation of anarchist principles stems not from a disregard of anarchy but from V’s own individual motives and prerogatives.  It would be appropriate to conclude V intends to create a truly anarchist society from the remains of the tyrannically-ruled English people; his real endgame is not only to have his vengeance but to free society from those who impose themselves upon it and its citizens.

Works Cited

“Anarchy.” Oxforddictionaries.com. Oxford English Dictionary. Web. 6 May 2011.

Moore, Alan, David Lloyd, Steve Whitaker, and Siobhan Dodds. V for Vendetta. New York: DC Comics, 2005.

Peak, Alex. “Is V an Anarchist?.” Alex Peak. Web. 6 Oct. 2014. <http://alexpeak.com/twr/vfv/anarchism/&gt;.

—. “The Joker is Not an Anarchist.” Alex Peak. Web. 8 Oct. 2014. <http://alexpeak.com/ww/2008/016.html&gt;.