Practice IOC2: Alice Munro's Passion

Link to the Recording:

https://drive.google.com/file/d/0B13rR1KO5wYqeGUyTGNxaXhFMjJRUEVEQU1Id3hfSnhlTmpj/view?usp=sharing

Passage Analysed is...

He did take her to the movies. They saw “Father of the Bride.” Grace hated it. She hated girls like Elizabeth Taylor’s character—spoiled rich girls of whom nothing was ever asked but that they wheedle and demand. Maury said that it was just a comedy, but she told him that that was not the point. She could not quite make clear what her point was.

Anybody would have assumed that it was because she worked as a waitress and was too poor to go to college, and because, if she wanted that kind of wedding, she would have to save up for years to pay for it herself. (Maury did think this, and was stricken with respect for her, almost with reverence.)

She could not explain or even quite understand that it wasn’t jealousy she felt; it was rage. And not because she couldn’t shop like that or dress like that but because that was what girls were supposed to be like. That was what men—people, everybody—thought they should be like: beautiful, treasured, spoiled, selfish, pea-brained. That was what a girl had to be, to be fallen in love with. Then she’d become a mother and be all mushily devoted to her babies. Not selfish anymore, but just as pea-brained. Forever.

Grace was fuming about this while sitting beside a boy who had fallen in love with her because he had believed—instantly—in the integrity and uniqueness of her mind and soul, had seen her poverty as a romantic gloss on that. (He would have known she was poor not just because of her job but because of her strong Ottawa Valley accent.)

He honored her feelings about the movie. Indeed, now that he had listened to her angry struggles to explain, he struggled to tell her something in turn. He said he saw now that it was not anything so simple, so feminine, as jealousy. He saw that. It was that she would not stand for frivolity, was not content to be like most girls. She was special.

Grace was wearing a dark-blue ballerina skirt, a white blouse, through whose eyelet frills the upper curve of her breasts was visible, and a wide rose-colored elasticized belt. There was a discrepancy, no doubt, between the way she presented herself and the way she wanted to be judged. But nothing about her was dainty or pert or polished, in the style of the time. A bit ragged around the edges, in fact. Giving herself Gypsy airs, with the very cheapest silver-painted bangles, and the long, wild-looking, curly dark hair that she had to put into a snood when she waited on tables.

Special.

He told his mother about her, and his mother said, “You must bring this Grace of yours to dinner.”

Practice IOC: Alice Munro's 'Boys and Girls'

Link to the audio file:
https://drive.google.com/open?id=0B13rR1KO5wYqdEtNTEtxSEEyV2dwVzdoQTVGVW8wRWRZd3g0

I tried to embed it onto the page. I really did.

Women's Literature Reflection

Although it has only been four lessons, the insights that I have gained and the changes in my original opinions toward make it seem like a longer time has passed. While I’ve always enjoyed literature, it has evolved (for me) into something that I should do, rather than just something I happen to do. We looked at the scientific benefits of studying literature, and the study speaks for itself. By reading quality works, we will become more adept at understanding people, and thereby the world around us. The purpose could be seen as ‘practicing the human experience’. Reading literature is like a trial run of social interaction, allowing us to be a part of someone’s world without even having to know them.

With this in mind about literature, the presence of such a thing as women’s literature reveals the sexism inherent in our society. When I first started the year, I was quite frustrated with this distinction. After all, there are strong female characters and writers in literature. Later on, however, when presented with the numbers (surprisingly by Mr. Michael) and after seriously considering the books and protagonists on my bookshelf, I began to see the huge disparity that still exists today. Despite this, I believe that relegating all literature written by women or for women to the category ‘women’s literature’ would be inaccurate. While women are underrepresented in literature (more info here), this is a separate issue from women’s literature. The genre is very nuanced and hard to define, but a superficial marker of women’s literature may be passing the Bechdel test.

The value of studying women’s literature lies in the ‘balance of stories’ that we learnt about back in Grade 11. Chimamanda Adiche’s TED Talk on the Danger of a Single Story reminds us that telling only one story of a people will rob them of their dignity, dehumanize them, and make us see them only as the stories say they are. Women’s literature is important because it removes the stereotypes surrounding women, and reiterates to readers that the stories shared by people are the same whoever they are.

Munro’s social realism was especially significant in the 1950s to 1980s, as those were the main years of second wave feminism. What distinguished this particular brand of feminism from its predecessors was that it had more of a ‘spirit’, especially in how there wasn’t any one specific thing they were fighting for. There was also a movement of ‘consciousness raising’, where personal stories were politicized to bring attention to ordinary women’s lives. Munro’s stories are a perfect example of this, as her narratives of normal lives achieve exactly what ‘consciousness raising’ aimed to do. Her stories also created a starting point for other women to know that they weren’t alone, and could share their experiences.  

This brings us back to Munro’s contributions to gender equality. By providing the balance of stories that was needed in the literary world, Munro showed that the similarities between men and women are far more than the differences between them. The thing that I both enjoyed and hated most in these stories was how ‘normal’ they were. On one hand, it was very depressing when every story turned out like how it would in real life, with no room for magic or unicorns or aliens (L). On the other hand, Munro made poetry out of ordinary situations, without embellishing or changing them at all. I really enjoyed this minimalism in her work, especially as it made it seem like any one of us could be ‘interesting enough’ to be in a book.

Lastly, I also believe Munro made a very powerful statement about feminism through her stories. None of the Alice Munro stories I read had only women or men in them, which reminds us that feminism is about the equality of the sexes, and not man-hating. Even Simone De Beauvoir supports this – in her theory of the other she concludes that the sexes should not aim to tear each other down, but rather live respectfully each in their own right. 

Note: This post is a little late, I originally wrote it on a word document but then forgot to post it. Sorry!

Song Showdown – The Greatest Lyrics of the Century: Janelle Monáe’s Dance Apocalyptic

Before we begin, watch Monáe’s performance of her funky song here:

Excited yet? When I first heard the song, I was amazed by the energy and total abandon in her voice, which complemented the lyrics’ unapologetic insistence on her central theme.  

While there are hints of general plot, the song’s real weight lies in the Monáe’s main motif: Rebellion. This song is about separating ourselves from the stereotypes, claustrophobia, and societal norms of the modern world. In the repeated chorus and bridge, Monáe sings to the audience that we ‘found a way to break up!’ and that we’re ‘not afraid to break out’. These two lines are also instances of anaphora. She goes even further by asking: ‘If the world says it’s time to go, tell me will you freak out?’, almost demanding that the audience join her in her defiance to the world.

The chorus then tumbles into the cheerful onomatopoeia of ‘smash, smash, bang, bang … chalangalangalang.’ These stanzas are echoed throughout the song, reminding the audience of Monáe’s call to action: to destroy any restrictions in sight.  She establishes herself as a revolutionary figure with her direct narration, where the audience is told exactly what to do. The total absence of dialogue also shows that this isn’t just any ordinary conversation – it is an instruction manual to shatter the mold.

Part of Monáe’s success in creating her theme is through her use of diction. The word ‘apocalyptic’ by itself sets the tone for the listener, who now has images of a science-fiction-dystopian future in mind. Contributing to these images are phrases like ‘zombie in the front yard’, ‘it’s all built like a comic book’, and ‘food tasting plastic’, which have similar connotations. There’s even an allusion to the 1950s cold war era thrown in with ‘worried about the bomb threats’. It was common for families to build fallout shelters in their backyards. Later on, mentions of ‘a new wife’ and ‘bought a house’ support the earlier allusion by referencing the idea of the ‘perfect housewife’ which was common in post-WW2 times.

The motif of the ‘perfect family’ is a suitable starting point for what Monáe is revolting against: mundanity. She also uses characterization to enrich the song, using the dichotomy of the normal family (i.e. ‘you’re working nine to five’) versus those who are already ‘going crazy’ (i.e. ‘exploding in the bathroom stall’). These two characters merge into one with Monáe’s resolution, which proudly exclaims ‘Look at you! You look just like a little old earthquake.’ Her final stanza also reveals the audience as active characters, who move the story forward even though they make mistakes (i.e. breaking things). This makes Dance Apocalyptic that much more relatable, because real people are active characters.  

These literary devices are just scratching the surface of Monáe’s lyrics. There is much more, including puns, metaphors, diacope, pacing, and plot to uncover. Dance Apocalyptic also pulls off something not many songs can pull off – groovy satire. Much of what she tells us is applicable to our modern situation, for example ‘the hitmen always find you’ could refer to the NSA scandal over spying on American citizens, which happened in the same year the song was released. In this sense, Dance Apocalyptic is one huge hyperbole, greatly exaggerating our current situation, and providing similarly exaggerated reactions in order to draw attention to the world we’re living in.

In all, Janelle Monáe’s Dance Apocalyptic is the anthem of mutiny. It’s allusions and references cement it’s relevancy in our time and context, and it uses elements of plot to guide the audience through a strongly charged theme of rebellion. Combine flawless lyrics with an irresistible beat and a confident, almost aggressive delivery, and you get the song of the century. Dance Apocalyptic encourages listeners not just to defy expectations, but to dance our way to a new world.   

Sources:

http://www.bbc.com/news/world-us-canada-23123964

http://www.nebraskastudies.org/0900/frameset_reset.html?http://www.nebraskastudies.o rg/0900/stories/0901_0132.html