1. What temptations have distracted you from focusing on academics here at U.T.? In other words, who or what has been your Zuleika?

Fortunately, I have found a sort of rhythm to my life and my studies lately and distractions haven't been much of a problem.  This wasn't always the case.  I was a terrible student in high school and only got into UT because I am good at taking tests.  Since being at the university I have been able to refine my interests and tailor my studies around those interests, so I don't really separate school work from leisure time (everyday I just do a little of both and it tends to work out).  My distractions are probably similar to everyone else’s (friends, girls, parties, other indulgences… thankfully I don’t care to spend much time on the computer or watching TV), but they haven’t really detracted from my studies.  However, if I was a student at Oxford, my ambitions might be different and I feel compelled to engage in more rigorous studies.  In this case my laid-back lifestyle and diverse interests wouldn’t fly.  The students in Zuleika are more prone to a catastrophic distraction because their lives are so regimented and repressed (sterile? maybe not, but a bit sexually repressed).    

2. How does the representation of groups or cliques among the undergraduates at Oxford, fit your experience of U.T.? Who are the equivalent here of the Duke, Noaks, Oover, the Dons, etc.?

UT is such an enormous institution that specific parallels are futile.  However, UT is filled with people who are not dissimilar from the students at Beerbohm’s Oxford; and one is bound to find countless examples of egomaniacal elitists (the Duke), trifling weasels (Noaks), and boorish meatheads (Oover) anywhere on campus.  The junta, Dorset’s dinner club, is the distinctly exclusive society in Zuleika and there is bound to be something of that order at UT (the silver spurs, maybe? I don’t know anything about school organizations).  The Dons are similar to the older, tenured faculty at UT.  The scene at the end of Zuleika when only the Dons are present at the Bump Supper and the Warden is oblivious to the fate of his students is hilarious (even more so when the Warden later learns of Zuleika’s meddling and he is infinitely pleased).  I imagine that the professors at UT wouldn’t mind a break from the chaos of students and classes.

3. When have you felt like an outsider here, that is, like Oover or Noaks? What was U.T.’s response to your sense of yourself as an outsider?

I suppose Oover and Noaks are outsiders in the novel, but the Duke seems to be just as removed from the ‘normal’ crowd at Oxford as they are.  Granted the Duke dines with the warden and is admired by every other student and/or woman he encounters, but he lives in his own self-absorbed world, infiltrated only by Zuleika.  “(H)ad he never met Zuleika, the irresistible, he would have lived… a dandy without reproach…He was too much concerned with his own perfection ever to think of admiring any one else.” (29)  Zuleika, herself, is the most striking example of an outsider.  “(A)n Elizabethan (would) have called her “gypsy,” Miss Dobson now, in the midst of the Edwardian Era, was the toast of two hemispheres.” (10)  Disregarding her independent lifestyle, she is literally an outsider in the imperialist (? She has an oriental look, decidedly not Western European) sense.  Which begs the question who truly is an outsider?  I know that I didn’t answer the question, but I think I made a good point.   

4. What are the U.T. equivalents of the imposing architecture, traditions, and crew races at Oxford?

The architecture of UT is imposing for different reasons.  As I write this response, I am sitting in the UGL computer lab.  Although it is a relatively nice day outside, I am stuck in this enormous plastic and fluorescent warehouse with fifty or more other people clicking away on their keyboards.  The size and sterility are imposing, but not the grandeur.  The big heads (Beerbohm’s emperors) are similar to the statues in the South Mall and East Mall.  Both Oxford’s big heads and UT’s civil rights leaders and Civil War generals observe their students and suffer from their students’ mistakes.

5. How does your experience of the weight of the past embodied in those traditions and buildings compare to that of the Oxford students and to that of the faculty in both places?

I am sure that there are many Oxford students who do not fully appreciate the history of their surroundings, but it is indisputably more prevalent at UT.  Until taking this class, I had never thought about the history of the buildings or the gravity of the school’s traditions.  I noticed relics from the past (the radioactive fallout signs in Battle Hall), but never considered the human element.  I never thought about the lives and activities of the people who have come before me in the 150+ years since UT has been in existence.  One reason is that many of the buildings are not very old.  There is not as much of a sense of permanence at UT.  I suppose that the students and faculty at Oxford are more impressed by their surroundings and are inspired or feel obligated to continue the traditions because of their permanence.

6. How much do we share in the tradition of chivalry, courtly love, romance, etc. being satirized in the novel?

The traditions are still alive to some extent, but they are so often disregarded or ridiculed that they are now obsolete.  Certainly the traditions are not nearly as strong as they are made out to be in Zuleika.  Suicide in the response to unrequited love would still be tragic; but it would not be regarded as noble, it would be seen as absurd.  However, even in Victorian or Edwardian Oxford, an instance of lemming-suicide like that in the book would be preposterous.  Beerbohm is clearly making a morbidly comedic assault on adherence to these outmoded traditions (the Duke dressing up in his elaborate costume, which is left floating on the surface of the water after he has drowned), but the story is still tragic (the Duke’s reluctance to die, until he is given notice that the two owls have perched and his fate is decided by the pagan gods).

7. What role do the illustrations play in this novel and in the Alice books?

I enjoyed the illustrations, all except the hideous face of tragedy (the figure of Beerbohm’s muse, Clio).  Because the tone of the book was light and the illustrations were cartoons, their presence didn’t interfere with my imagination while reading the book (which is the typical criticism of illustrations).  The illustrations lent a sort of surrealism to the book (some of the pictures are creepy, like the Venetian Senator on p. 124).  I enjoyed the whole layout of the book: the illustrations, the typeface, and the wide margins.  Without these additions the book would not have held my interest.  I actually didn’t really like the storyline and most of the characters were offensive, but I remained curious and was entranced by the unique presentation (both the visual layout and the haphazard references and narration).

Go Ask Alice Post

1.  "'Oh, I beg your pardon!'  cried Alice hastiley, afraid that she had hurt the poor animal's feelings.  'I quite forgot you didn't like cats.'" (p. 26)  Wonderland is a radically different place from Alice's Oxford home.  At times, she has to bite her tongue and remember that her intent might be mistaken or that her behavior might offend these new and unfamiliar characters.  Although I have lived in large cities in the past and have been exposed to a variety of people, university-life has still been an eye-opening experience (the fringe elements seem to be the most visible).  Living and studying amongst such a divers group of people, one must remember not to abandon his or her principles, but to keep an open mind and learn from the situation.

2.  "...They began running when they liked, and left off when they liked, so that it was not easy to know when the race was over.  However, when they had been running half an hour or so, and were quite dry again, the Dodo suddenly called out 'The race is over!' and they all crowded round it, panting, and asking 'But who has won?'" (p. 31)  The quote is bit long for this assignment, but it is such a suitable metaphor for a variety of experiences related to the university experience and beyond.  In the annotation, the caucus race is traced to its political origins, which is appropriate given the current set of strange cirumstances.  It is difficult for a student, on the verge of adulthood, to succesfully manage the demands of school, work, family, etc...  It is nearly impossible, in fact it is quite disheartening (or possibly inspirational, given one's outlook), when the student tries to acclimate to the larger picture, to find his/her place in the world.  Especially at UT, where one witnesses everyday the thousands of other students 'racing' ahead, it is a bit hard to make sense of the big contest, much less to differentiate oneself from the herd.

3.  "...Those modern critics of children's literature who feel that juvenile fiction should be free of all violence and especially violence with Freudian undertones." (p. 82, annotation #4)  The response of the modern critics is emblematic of the dynamic that exists at UT and elsewhere: literary/academic merit (even if it is deemed misguided and purveyed as 'wrong') vs. universal tolerance.  I love Gardner's response to Alice's perceived danger to children: that it is perfectly safe for well-adjusted children, but that it should be strictly regulated when read as an example of allegorical literature amongst disturbed adults.  I imagine Carroll would have agreed that the children are the ones to trust in such a situation.  Seperately, the original quote elicits the apathetic response which I have fully developed at UT of Freudian references (just like Prof. Bump is averse to the overuse of meaningless 'discovery' learning analogies, I have grown tired of Freud's vulgar intrusions into my reading--I may have just made a slip).    

4.  Alice participates in "discovery" learning (I have chosen to ignore my last statement).  Relying solely on her intuition, she drinks unmarked bottles and eats wild mushrooms.  "...This bottle was not marked 'poison,' so Alice ventured to taste it, and , finding it very nice..., she very soon finished it off." (p. 17)  This lack of inhibition is emlematic of the college experience in a variety of ways, some of which are mentioned in the reponses to the Zuleika question of college distractions. 

5. "'And, dear me! you're a human child!' A sudden look of alarm came into its beautiful brown eyes, and in another moment it had darted away at full speed." (p. 178)  This quote brings into question the value of knowledge and the human perception of the world, as supplied by the university experience.  We study literature, math, science, etc... at the university, but are we better off for it?  By relying primarlily on that one sense which has become so prevelant in modern society, visual perception, and by ascribing names and shapes to the different concepts, events, components, etc... that we see, do we really accomplish anything?  It is all inextricably entrenched in our minds, but perhaps if we (as a university) give credence to more than what is sensorially tangible we can achieve a more complete understanding.  

Waller Creek Post

I realize that I am a day late.  I wrote this over the weekend and just couldn't get to an internet connection to post it.  Here it is:

     "wast(ing) time exploring and, more to the point, committing myself to a voluntary regimen of pick-and-shovel work which.... served as excellent therapy... Psychological therapy as well as physical, I mean; even the flintiest of the flinty-minded, who are to be encountered in Academia as well as in barracks or courtinghouses, know that the spirit at times requires what the mind cannot supply." (424)  I find this theme throughout the short selection from Life on Waller Creek and I sense it here as I sit next to the creek.  I must admit that the position I am in is a bit uncomfortable.  In my left ear I hear the "riffle" of the water, but in my right I hear the bleeding of a brake-line.  Maybe I am incapable of escaping, of accepting the "therapy" of this place.  The busy world encroaches on both sides of the creek and distracts me with the chores, dreams, regrets, with everything that has been or will be.  Thus, I must purposely slow down and regard the present laid before me.

     "The Creek is an ever-visible manifestation of continuity, of life; the amount and nature of what it carries along, in addition to its variable current of water, keeps changing; the bed is hardly the same from one day (or even hour) to the next, though the variations are normally undramatic." (429)  If I am incapable of coming to an independent conclusion about the signifigance of Waller Creek, then perhaps I can make a comparison with the "other" world which distracts me.  What can be concluded about the small ecosystem that exists here in the Creek.  Is it dynamic and ever-changing or is it static, in the most general sense; is it what it was and what it will be?  A squirrel, almost frozen on a tree limb, watches me steadfastly; a blackbird rummages for food amongst the leaves; and a dragonfly bounces off of the water; but is there any real purpose or pattern to their behavior?  If I watched the hubbub of human activity on campus from the tower would I observe any profound difference, would I see a noble purpose or just random activity, foraging for food, shelter, etc...?  I am continually awed by the ability of animals and nature to conform to unnatural environments (like the peregrine falcons that live and hunt in Central Park in New York City).  Sorry, there is no conclusion, just some observations.

Ponds Post

A common theme that I find employed by Forster, Arnold, and even Ram Dass is the idea of self-realization. I realize that the term “self-realization” does not adequately describe the revelations that I seek to describe. The best way is perhaps to cite each author.
Forster (I assume) is lured off of the road and into the garden. He is initially flustered by what he perceives to be the chaos of the place (his pedometer fails, the “laws of science and the spirit of emulation” (450) no longer have any bearing, he is like Alice at the tea-party), but soon and with the help of his guide, he is able to look back to the road and realize that it does indeed exist but not as he initially believed. “It is the same road… it doubles so often, that it is never far from our boundary and sometimes touches it.” (451) He knew the road, but his map of it was ill-conceived. The eventual realization that everything is connected and the new mindset that this understanding impels allows Forster to revel in the small, individual pleasures (the company of his “brother,” a stolen beer?).
Of course, there are many possible interpretations of the symbolism, but it does seem to reflect the pastoral longing of a wearied existentialist. Arnold doesn’t necessarily describe an inner change, but he praises the same pastoral qualities of life. The shepherds, “the young boys who in lone wheatfields scare the rooks” (465, Jude?), and, most of all, the loosed scholar-gipsy all symbolize a panacea for “this strange disease of modern life, / With its sick hurry, its divided aims” (472).
It is this same dichotomy between the equivocal business of human endeavors and the tranquil amaranthine (I found this in the thesaurus, I hope it works here) quality of nature that I think about when I sit and meditate in the midst of nature. The biology ponds don’t quite cut it though because there is too much around it. It is a postage stamp, encroached upon on all sides, even the turtles and the fish look trapped. An ideal place for this type of meditation would be free of all vestiges of modern life (no automobile noise, no buildings on the horizon).

Littlefield House Post

The Littlefield house stands in distinct contrast to every other building in its vicinity.  It is physical monument of antimodernism.  "Antimodernism typically either considers technology's utilisation in the modern world to be misapplied and misguided, or else that it should be regarded as a lesser priority of human endeavour thatn, say, social cohesion or devotion to traditional religious and other cultural values." (514)  The rest of the campus is remarkable for its secular/modernist blandness and devotion to technology, so not much is required to stand apart.  But is the house Gothic or at least does it conform to Ruskin's "Nature of Gothic" or "Trueness to Nature"?  It conforms to some of the prerequisites: savageness (the rustification along the foundation, but it doesn't really flow naturally out of the ground or mesh with the natural landscape), love of change (this one is covered; there almost excessive incorporation of styles and ornaments), and disturbed imagination (the griffins, gargoyles, etc... although I think that Major Littlefield's monogram everywhere has the effect of marginalizing the disturbed nature).  However, in terms of love of nature, obstinacy and rigidity, I think it fails.  The design seems to be haphazard; there is no cohesion/no elastic tension between the elements; they are too disparate (the bay window vs. the turret, marble columns vs. iron lattice).  Most importantly, although, is the lack of generosity that makes it not true to nature.  The fundamental flaw here is that one cannot see the unique expression put forth by each artisan who partook in the construction of the house (granted I have given it a thourough inspection and the house has undergone restoration).  But there seems to be a sort of feigned rudeness about the house; antimodern, yes, but its gothic doesn't seem geniune.

Anti-modernism Post

    I sense the presence of antimodernism everyday.  I believe its existence is necessary, if only to temper the affinity of modern life for industry.  Religious fundamentalism, as cited, is an extreme case in which the cause, a form antimodernism, supercedes the lives of the individuals and is worthy not only of protection, but also of propagation.  Antimodernism, as it applies to religion, is not exclusively this extreme form.  Divinity school students who study ancient Hebrew in order to understand original texts are practicing a form of antimodernism by searching for a more “pure” translation, free from modern distortions.  Disgust for the narrow perspective and/or dubious influence of advanced culture seems to be at the heart of antimodernism. 
      I used to see the antimodernists through my window.  On the block adjacent to my house in Hyde Park, there was a flop house for all sorts of riffraff.  I do not know if they were consciously antimodernists, but their lifestyle was certainly pre-Industrial.  The house was basically a big rat’s nest.  The trash, blankets, clothes, animals and people overflowed into the front yard.  From my few conversations with the ever-changing residents, I gleaned that they subsisted without A/C, heating, or running water.  In this case, modernism eventually won.  The old house (cave) was torn down and a brand new chateau was put in its place (not built, but deposited, in one piece, by truck).
      A case with a different outcome occurred at the resort where I am going to work next semester.  A private investor built a Chinese-Barbecue restaurant (don’t ask) on the backside of the ski mountain, nestled right next to the border of the National Park.  Before it was opened for business, a group of anarchists blew the place up.  The investor re-evaluated the situation and decided to build again.  Once again, the anarchists blew it up.  I believe that the restaurant will still be opened, but at a new location.  So, perhaps it was only a limited victory for the antimodernists.

    I am still sort of unsure about the goal of this post, so I will try again.  This time I will try to synthesize the information about the Pre-Raphaelites and relate it to what I know about Antimodernism.  Pre-Raphaelitism and Antimodernism, both, are an attempt to reject the conventions of modern art; and, thus, circumvent and transcend the sort of stagnation that necessarily developes out of unquestioning servility: "(A) school of painters revolting against the drab ugliness of industrial England: the Pre-Raphaelites." (693)  

     Pre-Raphaelitism seems to be firstly a rejection of modern conventions, and secondly, an imitation of Medievalism.  The desire to revive realism, and to "...denounce this art of idealization" (690) found its inspiration in Medievalism, but was also unquestionably influenced by ideas unknown in Medieval times.  Specifically, the influence of John Ruskin is present in their work.  Ruskin's "praise of the artist as prophet" and its "'...truth in all that it does, obtained by working everything, down to the most minute detail, from nature and from nature only.'" (693)  Thus, strict realism is tempered (or embellished) by Victorian ideas.  The Pre-Raphaelite subjects, Medieval and Biblical scenes, are glorified by the artists and are effected by their desire to create scenes of "decorative, sensuous beauty" (692) through the use of "Victorian... word painting," etc... 

     In summary, Pre-Raphaelitism looks to only a specific span of history for inspiration.  It is, therefore, a subset of Antimodernism.  Like Hopkins, the Pre-Raphaelites "embrace Ruskin's definition of 'Medievalism' as a 'confession of Christ' as opposed to both 'Classicism' ('Pagan Faith') and 'Modernism' (the denial of 'Christ')." (694)  Also, Pre-Raphaelitism is not strictly Antimodernist.  Pre-industiral inspiration seems to serve the Pre-Raphaelites as a sort of conduit for new ideas, with rejection of the constraints of modernity as the focused goal.

    (I have taken quite a few liberties with the quotations.  Additionaly, as the selections in the course packet are my only source on Pre-Raphaelitism [is that even a word?], my understanding is very limited, and everything that I just said might be completely off-base.)