Puja Parekh
January 25, 2006
Browning and sympathetic imagination.
This packet was not my first exposure to Browning.
I have had to thoroughly analyze My Last Duchess for a timed
writing my senior year (remember those?). As I read it again
almost a year later, most of my initial observations remain
the same. The poem starts off leading me to believe as though
the speaker is addressing the readers, but it is revealed that
he is talking about the painting of his ex-wife to another person.
We find out about his jealousy for his wife's attentions and
even begin to suspect that he may have had something to do with
her untimely demise. Both this poem and Porphyria's Lover are
morbid and arouse shock in the reader. As per the definition
of a dramatic monologue, the I can feel sympathy for the husband
not being given special thought, yet his penchant for murder
causes me to "make a conflicting judgement of the character"
(877). Porphyria's Lover is the same as I can feel for the two
lovers, and disgusted by the terrible murder.
So how important was my sympathetic imagination
in this process? I beleive it was vital. Browning's poems would
not have had quite the effect on me had I not been able to "penetrate
the barrier" between myself and the speakers in the poems
and to secure "a momentary but complete identification
with [them]" (882), the effect of their murderous tendencies
would not have been quite as shocking. I would have been revolted
to some extent, but Browning somehow made it feel much more
personal.
Is Flowers right though? Is sympathetic imagination
"enlarging humanity" (884)? Are teachers beginning
to focus more on character development than technical aspects
of stories? I haven't quite made up my mind.
Before I end, a note about My Last Professor.
It definitely freaked me out.
Puja Parekh
February 2, 2006
I am what I am
Cognito ergo sum. “Ye shall know the truth
and the truth shall make you free” (303). All through
this course, I’ve been told to know myself, to discover
who I truly am. And just like it is impossible to truly analyze
the ancient art of a country without knowing something about
its history, I think in order for me to get a real sense of
who I am, I need to look back in time and see where I came from.
Evolution is a theory that I have grown up studying
and believing. Although my family is devoutly Jain, I was never
exposed to another theory about the universe’s creation.
It was only in middle school that I first heard of the seven
days and how “God fashioned man of dust from the soil”
(26). My family is of a highly scientific nature, and all of
the National Geographics laying around the house always seemed
to have more than enough proof of where all life has come from.
As a result, I have always believed that I am the product of
a slow process of change, and imagining my ancestors from centuries
ago as primitive people is not all that difficult for me.
Be that as it may, I also look at nature in a
spiritual manner. A respect for nature is one of the central
tenants of Jainism, and also the reason why we try to lead the
simplest existence, with the least amount of ‘violence’
towards other creatures as possible. When I go out into nature,
I feel as if that is the place where I am supposed to be, and
not in the metal and concrete cages that men seem to wither
away in. Nature is my home, and it gives me comfort to know
that under my feet, “beneath the long grass… [are]
millions of bones” (41). Knowing that the history of the
universe is a part of the very soil I live on fills me with
a strange power that I cannot categorize as being either that
of superiority or inferiority. Saying that I feel as though
I fit in like a perfect piece in the puzzle of time is the closest
I can come to describing it. And with the knowledge that I am
“linked forever to lost beaches whose sands have long
since hardened into stone” (24), I can go on to discover
the other aspects of myself that are still unknown.
Puja Parekh
February 14, 2006
Oh Loneliness
I was struck by the Arnold poems because they covered
the exact same topics that my Introduction to India class have.
Hindu scriptures dictate that humans should free their souls
of all negative attachments and focus on the quest for knowledge.
It also binds every being with a duty, both towards society
and the cosmos as a whole. But how can one leave society and
pursue knowledge (by becoming an ascetic) while following their
civic duties of supporting the families and contributing to
society? I guess the only answer to these moral issues is to
think about it and follow the path that is best suited to your
self.
Isolation: To Marguerite is a fascinating piece.
I'm a romantic at heart, so I definitely felt remorse when the
speaker in the poem proclaims "how vain a thing is mortal
love" (26) and that no matter what illusions the heart
creates, "thou has been, shalt be, art, alone" (30).
I sincerely hope that life will not be as lonely and depressing
as Arnold's poem makes it seem to be.
In regards to the soul and it's relation to the
greater good, I believe that one cannot do anything helpful
for the community if they do not have internal peace. The overall
helplessness of the lovestruck and depressed is too common a
sight to be ignored. In the end, I think that only when an individual
soul has found the solutions to its worldly problems can it
discover its "'at-oneness' with the objective truth of
earth and heaven" and begin to revel in "the mystery"
of the universe and our existence (92).
Puja Parekh
February 16, 2006
I guess I'll give carpentry a try: Hopkins, Arnold
and Fowles.
Fowles, Arnold and Hopkins all write about nature,
but their approaches are vastly different. On the one end we
have Hopkins, who appreciates and enjoys nature, and finds a
strange sort of peace in it. His poetry credits God as “being
mighty a master” (A504) in his poem In the Valley
of Elwy, responsible for all of the awe-inspiring beauty.
But he doesn’t approach nature with the frivolous, happy-go-lucky
attitude of children’s poetry either. In his poem Spring,
Hopkins first expresses the beauty of the world around him with
the birds’ eggs that “look little low heavens”
and the “descending blue” sky over the green earth
(503). He warns mankind to go and appreciate this Garden of
Eden for the fear that it grows “sour with sinning”
(503). He laments for the “dare-gale skylark scanted in
a dull cage” that man has so heartlessly trapped, and
declares that ultimately, the bird cannot be truly be imprisoned,
but it’s the human spirit that “will be flesh-bound
when found at best” (505). As Susan said, Hopkins believes
that try as he may, man has not been able to and never will
be capable of suppressing the wild and beautiful spirit of nature.
While Hopkins focuses on the greatness of the
natural world’s sprit, Arnold focuses more on his inability
to relate to the beauty of nature. In his Lines Written in Kensington
Gardens, Arnold is struck by “what wonders pass”
before his eyes, with the birds singing and children playing,
but is “helpless” to appreciate any of it. In fact
his only wish is to be able to some day find himself as a part
of the natural scene and not “die before…[he has]
begun to live” (655). In Dover Beach, he feels the beautiful
sea breeze and hears the crashing waves as the carriers of “the
eternal note of sadness” (81). He grieves once again for
his inability to be one with nature and feels as though God
has disappeared and abandoned man, leaving him to fend for himself.
The only thing Arnold feels that he can do in a world that “hath
really neither joy, nor love, nor light” is find solace
in the arms of the woman he loves.
Fowles takes the (somewhat) middle ground between
Hopkins and Arnold through his protagonist Charles. In The
French Lieutenant’s Woman, Charles is unable to find
comfort in nature because he that he “cannot possess [it]
forever” (69). When he goes out into nature, he looks
at the leaves and is able to see “something mysteriously
religious about them, but of a religion before religion”.
Charles is amused when animals cross his path in the forest
and look at him as the “intruder”, as the one who
does not belong in the “perfect world” (239). He
is sad that he is too evolved to find peace in nature, and that
he had become “a Candide who could see nothing but obvious
explanations, a man suddenly deprived of his sense of irony”
(290).
Charles is distressed because he feels as though
civilization has taken him away from nature to the extent that
he will never be able to fit in again. Arnold feels let down
by God and the “sea of faith” that has retreated
with a “withdrawing roar” (81). In the end, Hopkins
remains the only one who takes a positive attitude on life.
While he believes that man has wreaked havoc on the natural
world, he feels that she will continue to fight back and thrive
and never be squelched.
Puja Parekh
February 28, 2006
Rossetti's The Blessed Damozel
The Pre-Raphaelites were a fascinating group of
artists. Having no background in art, the first time I came
across this group was while reading The French Lieutenant’s
woman. This section gave me a better idea of what these men
(and later woman) were like. The believed that during the high
renaissance artists “would manipulate the subject into
their own ideal of beauty” and lose all aspects of reality
(316). The Pre-Raphaelites steered away from this course and
tried to mimic the real beauty of nature, including all defects.
Dante Gabriel Rossetti particularly “emphasized themes
of eroticized medievalism and pictorial techniques that produced
moody atmosphere.” (318) The Pre-Raphaelites drew from
“medieval tales, bible stories, classical mythology and
nature” for subject matter for both art and poetry (316).
The painting I would like to focus on is Dante
Gabriel Rossetti’s The Blessed Damozel. This
painting is one of Rossetti’s masterpieces and was painted
in 1877-78. It was a commissioned piece of work based on the
poem of the same name that Rossetti wrote several years earlier,
in 1847. The poem, focused on the love of a woman in heaven
(the Virgin Mary) and her love for an earth-bound man. I found
this painting particularly interesting because of depiction
of the subject matter and the use of colors. Like other Rossetti
paintings, there seems to be light radiating from within the
painting, near the Virgin Mary. The flowers in her hand are
colored a golden yellow, and the same flowers behind her are
seen to be pink. I was also fascinated that the angels that
are normally seen behind the Virgin Mary are configured to be
pairs of embracing lovers. Like other Rossetti pieces, the painting
is exquisitely detailed and even the red sheen of her hair is
perfect.
I really admire the Pre-Raphaelites for what they
did. I mean a group of young, talented artists who decided to
go against the norm and depict nature for what it really was
instead of presenting a romanticized version of it? It is almost
too movie-like to be true. Hats off the Pre-Raphaelites!
Puja Parekh
March 7, 2006
Insert Witty Title Here
I think I would classify myself as an anti-modernist
(architecture wise) simply because I cannot stand the urban
buildings that I see today. I love ancient architecture, which
is why I find comfort in looking “to the past for inspiration
for the direction of the future.” (191) I think the architecture
of the 18th century and earlier was extremely beautiful, and
I see no need to improve upon something that is almost perfect.
My preference for anti-modernist architecture was clear especially
when I saw Pugin’s Contrasts. Whether looking
at the Parochial Churches, Crosses or College Gateways, I found
that I liked the modernist versions well enough, but that they
stood nowhere in comparison to their anti-modernist counterparts
(238).
I had a little more trouble trying to figure what
type of anti-modernist I was. I came to the conclusion upon
much deliberation that I was a Romantic. I think this has a
lot to do with my beliefs regarding nature, and my own personality.
Being an ESFJ (Extroverted, Sensing, Feeling, Judging) person,
it makes sense that I am more attracted to the “elevation
of nature and sentiment above civilization and intellect.”
(193) Romantic art and architecture is “one of movement,
figured in quests, journeys, and pilgrimages,” and my
fascination with history, particularly medieval history, makes
my attachment to this style even more apparent.
Like Susan, the only hesitation I had with classifying
myself as an anti-modernist was its being almost synonymous
today with “religious fundamentalism.” (191) I love
romantic architecture for personal, and not religious reasons.
I also have absolutely no problem with technology (I happen
to love it as a matter of fact). I can, however, admit that
technology, while practical, is not as aesthetically pleasing
to the eye as the structures of the past.
One last thing I must say is that I was pretty
offended by the article on Islam and anti-modernism. I may not
be Muslim, but I have spent a large portion of my life in Saudi
Arabia, so I can positively state that the declaration of Islam
as “the strongest ideological counter to democracy and
capitalism” is complete codswallop (192). The Islamic
markets for Gold and Oil are unbelievably large, and the modern
architecture found in Riyadh (the capital of Saudi Arabia) is
mind blowing. If Islam was so completely against modernism,
there would be no such thing as the brand new Kingdom
Tower, Alfaisalya
tower, or the 18 year old Ministry
of Interior (which I used to believe was modeled after a
U.F.O.). I won’t deny that there are anti-Western beliefs
present there, but equating their dislike for the western people
to a disdain for modern thoughts and architecture is absolutely
ludicrous.
Puja Parekh
March 9, 2006
Griffins are kind of awesome
Having already discussed the possible functions
of the Griffins on the mantle at the Littlefield house, I set
out to discover whether our child-like reactions to them were
true. Many of us felt as though the Griffins were powerful beings
that could protect. As it turns out, the animals were supposed
to watch over gold mines and hidden treasure in Scythia. Like
Will said, the Griffins are old and wise beings, known in Egypt
before 3300 BC, which could be why some of us felt that they
were wise enough to not hurt us but we wouldn't dare to do anything
wrong under their watch. The breast plate and the noble feeling
surrounding the Griffins could stem from the fact that they
drew the chariot of the Sun. Griffins are often seen as gargoyles,
figures now associated mainly with cathedrals, but were known
to have helped in drainage systems in the ancient world. In
fact, "there were lion-headed Gargoyles in Pompeii."
(288)
The Griffins began to be associated with the church
after the Irish Writer Stephen Scotus declared in the 9th century
that they were monogamous and would never mate again even if
the previous one died. The church quickly adopted this symbol
of undying love (which just happened to support its own views
on remarriage) and the outer walls of the cathedrals began to
be adorned with such "demons and dragons", creatures
that for some reason guarded "the buildings of the very
same religion which had subdued them." (286) Still others
believe that the Griffin has a deep connection with Jesus Christ,
both of them having Dual natures. The animal was half eagle
and half lion, and Jesus Christ was both God and man. The eagle
head and wings corresponded to heavenly aspects of Christ, and
the lion body corresponded to the earthly ones. Needless to
say, the wisdom of the eagle combined with the sheer power of
the lion made a formidable force.
And now I must digress on how the Griffin relates
to one my greatest passions - Harry Potter. Harry Potter was
sorted during his first year into the Gryffindor House, a word
derived from the French "Griffin d'or" which means
Gold Griffin. Fittingly, the house colors are gold and scarlet.
According to the legends, Griffins are enemies of the Horse,
but in the rare case that they do mate, they produce a Hippogriff.
Harry Potter fans will know that Hippogriffs play a very important
role in the story, saving Harry Potter's godfather from being
executed. Griffins are also the enemies of serpents and Basilisk.
And lo and behold! The rivals of the Gryffindors are the Slytherins,
with their snake mascot, and Harry Potter survived an encounter
with a deadly basilisk thanks to the help of the sword of Godric
Gryffindor. Mere coincidence? I think not!
Puja Parekh
April 4, 2006
The Brontes bring out the romantic in me!
I love the Bronte family. The fact that these
siblings had seen so much death so early in life, with their
mother dying in 1821, and Maria and Elizabeth falling “ill
at boarding school and dying within months of each other in
1825” (382), yet managed to come out without being too
jaded and losing their imagination. I’m sure that being
cooped up at home all day long gave their future novels their
dark, gothic touches. After all, if large rickety old mansions
were all I knew, I’d make up ghost stories to entertain
myself too. But whatever it was that made these siblings decide
to venture into the world of gothic writing, I for one am glad
they did. Wuthering Heights is one of my favorite books, and
I love reading gothic literature for the stories, even when
I usually cannot stand the writing. Perhaps my affinity for
gothic works and horror movies also stems from my being almost
in captivity in Saudi Arabia. I too had to use my imagination
in the dark, moonless nights to keep myself entertained.
So what is it about the Bronte sisters and Gothicism
that makes me love them so much? I don’t know for sure,
but I know it has something to do with the “romanticism”
that was “the literary expression of supernaturalism”
(378). The Bronte sisters imbued their characters with so much
raw passion that it became impossible for me to not love them.
I loathed some characters’ personalities, but I loved
to loathe them because of how true they were to their own nature.
There’s something about the way these characters acted
upon “impulses and feelings which, because of their depth
or mysteriousness or intensity or ambiguity” that “increased[d]
wonderfully the sense of reality in the novel” (379),
and I absolutely and completely adored it. I know deep down
that I am a romantic, but not the flower-and-picnics-in-the-sun
kind. I am much to realistic to think that there is a completely
problem-free relationship out there. What I dream of is an emotional
upheaval of some kind. As weird as this seems, it’s true.
My need for self-control is extremely high (which is why I have
still not tried any intoxicating substances), which is why the
“man of my dreams” will come and spin my world out
of my control, in a good way of course. The only thing I need
to be able to do is let a guy that can do that get close enough
to me (way harder than it sounds).
