Saturday, October 3, 2015

This is Water

Let me begin my providing my own version of David Foster Wallace's thesis in 'This is Water': he suggests that true freedom acquired through education is the ability to choose to be adjusted, conscious, and sympathetic. People without education don't lack this ability, but without having been taught how to think they may not know they have this choice.  

The most obvious device Wallace uses to develop his thesis is meiosis and litotes. He deliberately undermines his own wisdom and that of what he's saying, for example in 'I am not the wise old fish' and 'please don't think that I'm giving you moral advice'. By reducing the importance that he attaches to his words on the surface, the audience believes they attached the importance themselves, making the speech more personal. 

Wallace uses one main example throughout the essay, which details the life of an average adult after leaving work and having to go to the supermarket for groceries. This is a well chosen example, as many can identify with the boredom and thoughts about these 'stupid god-damn people' in the checkout line. Even if many students may not have experienced these feelings in a supermarket, many in first-world countries have gone through sub sections of his example - be it waiting in line, being stuck in a traffic jam, or having to deal with inconsiderate driving. This manner in which he links his central idea of freedom of thought to the real world makes it more applicable and relevant. 

Later on, Wallace also employs pathos by talking about 'worship' and making sweeping statements like 'everybody worships'. This elicits an emotional reaction, as Wallace has already primed the audience to accept him (see earlier devices) and his ideas. Now, this idea is accepted more readily by the audience, and they respond to the personal question of 'worship' (which asks what supports us?) by looking inside themselves for an answer. 

This is just a selection of ways in which he develops his thesis. This theory contributes to the inquiry question because literature is a form of education, and it makes us aware of other people's emotions, just like Wallace claims education does. The inquiry question is thus an example of his thesis. For instance, as Alice Munro's stories reveal to us more about what average women go through, we are becoming more sympathetic (seeing and identifying with their feelings), adjusted (we see how fortunate we are and where we stand in this world), and conscious (I am now aware of other people's feelings and thoughts). 

David Foster Wallace's essay was truly thought-provoking, and I felt that he put into words an abstract idea that many people may have already been aware of on some level. By doing this, he made the concept of thought choice more concrete, and put more responsibility on us for our own happiness. Personally, I agree with his ideas, especially that it is not knowing these things that is important, but rather applying them in daily life. 

Word Count: 499



Tuesday, September 29, 2015

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.”

Sunday, September 27, 2015

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.


Friday, September 11, 2015

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!

Friday, September 4, 2015

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:

Saturday, August 15, 2015

Why Language Is (Or Could Be) An Area of Knowledge

12 Days Left!

Ok, the title may sound more dreary than interesting, but as I was considering some philosophical aspects of language over summer, I began wondering about why Language was not already an Area of Knowledge (AoK). To give some background, Language is a Way of Knowing (WoK), which as the name suggests is a way of gaining knowledge. WoKs provide answers to the ‘How Do We Know?’ question. The other WoKs are emotion, intuition, faith, reason, imagination, memory, and sense perception. The existing AoKs, which I believe Language should join, are Ethics, History, Natural Sciences, Human Sciences, Mathematics, Religious Knowledge Systems, Indigenous Knowledge Systems, and the Arts.

An Area of Knowledge can be defined by its characteristics, which include having specific Scope and Application, having its own Concepts and Language, a concrete Methodology, Historical Development, and Links to Personal Knowledge. To argue my case, I’ll be looking at each component of the AoK through the lens of Language.

Language can be described as a system for communication, where information can be conveyed when symbols are put together on paper, or when these symbols are given sounds that give meaning when they are spoken. This is what Language as an Area of Knowledge is about – communication. It studies how humans transfer information to one another, and by doing so solve problems in other AoKs. For example, certain conundrums in psychology (a Human Science) could be explained with the absence of certain words that exist in other languages. Having a word for a concept makes it more concrete in our minds, as it fits into our communication system. For instance, the word litost is Czech for ‘depression caused by sudden insight into one’s own miserable self’. It could be argued that the Czechs would be more prone to this malady, as they are more aware of it than we are (as it exists more indirectly in English). Additionally, just like the Scope of any other AoK, Language contains open questions (e.g. What is the origin of Language?) that are still being explored.

The next characteristic of an AoK is slightly trickier. Concepts and Language emphasize the role of language in the way knowledge is created in each AoK. Language encompasses concepts, and it is these concepts that constitute the Areas of Knowledge as we know them.

One way around this would be to consider not the system for communication itself, but the study of it (which we mentioned earlier). For example, linguistics is a study under Language, which looks at its structure and its implications (e.g. social, historical etc.). Like any scientific field, Linguistics has its own terminology. We even learnt some of it in class, for example ‘creole’, ‘dialect leveling’, ‘code switching’ etc. These words represent key concepts in linguistics, a field directly related to Language, and so consequently explain our knowledge of this area.

Linguistics as a field of Language is rather ‘meta’, as it attempts to understand the origins, structure and implications of itself. It also fits well into the AoK framework under Methodology. Experiments involving language (such as this game) are frequently conducted, revealing to us more information about how we communicate with each other. In fact, other subsections of Language, like literature (the production of artistic language) also have distinct ways of being understood that could be considered Methodology. One might analyze themes, diction, characterization, plot etc. to further understand the work. Additionally, Language again resembles an AoK through the things it values (which we see directly in literature), and the rejections it makes (font size, for example, does not matter as much in literature).

Do I really need to explain why Language has a Historical Development? Although there are contrasting theories on the origins of language (e.g. Discontinuity and Continuity theory), they both involve it’s gradual evolution to what we know it as today. Even from the linguistics perspective of meta-language, our understanding of the communicative systems we use is constantly changing based on historical context. For example, at a time when people relied on the church for explanations, the story of the Tower of Babel illustrated the origin of different languages. Now, however, linguists believe different languages arose out of different needs and contexts. Etymology can also provide interesting insights into the historical development of specific words and ideas.

The last component of an Area of Knowledge is its Links to Personal Knowledge. With this element, the AoK must tell us what it should mean to us, and why it is important. There are many direct connections to the Knower in Language, as its usage is almost unavoidable (an interesting article here talks about thought without language – a very rare occurrence). Language is also instrumental in the many forms of communication that surround us today – from advertisements to entertainment and social media. Any interaction with people will use some form of language, and establish our personal links to the AoK.

It seems that Language does follow the structure of an AoK. But one must also realize the compelling argument for it as a WoK – the way that Language encompasses nearly every aspect of our lives and also every AoK is what places it in that category. To counter this, we can focus on the purpose of an AoK – to categorize our knowledge into systems to understand it better. Language fits well here, especially as our earlier definition explained it as a communicative system and the study of it.
All in all, I believe that Language can fit effectively into the Area of Knowledge framework. This argument does not make a statement about Language but rather about ToK, proving that the existing WoKs and AoKs are not infallible structures that govern all knowledge. They have their own limitations, which must be recognized to truly understand ToK.

Of course, many of the examples I brought up here fit in well with Language and Literature, and the analysis was also completed on the English language, which we are studying in this course. The argument is not flawless as it does not look at other languages, but it provides a good beginning for more analysis. What do you think?

Sources
http://simplyphilosophy.org/words-are-arbitrary/

Sunday, July 26, 2015

Book Reflection: Dave Eggers’ A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius (SLIGHT SPOILERS!)

I hope everyone has been enjoying their summers so far. 32 Days Left!

I’ve just finished reading A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius, Dave Eggers’ memoir. A very brief synopsis: it documents the life of the author (twenties?) after and as both his parents pass away, and he cares for his younger brother (eleven) and deals with the tragedy. While the content of the book is “staggering” by itself, what really stood out to me was the author’s prose. It greatly impacted my view of writing, and my understanding of what constitutes telling a story. This blog post will attempt to outline what it was that made this not a book, but an experience.  

The first thing that set it apart from others was its structure, or rather the lack thereof. It was very ‘anything goes’, where one sentence could be half a page long, and where two different and unrelated narratives could be told at the same time. It also paid little attention to grammatical structure, with instances where words were just stuck together instead of forming ‘proper’ sentences. All this flowed together like thought processes, which the reader can identify with – especially as the abstract phrases conjure up feelings that are more universal than the specific events that triggered them.   

Working together with the very personal structure of the novel is how self-conscious it is. There are times when characters lapse into monologues that are obviously false – questioning the purpose of the memoir and insisting on the selfish motives of the author for focusing on the tragedies around him to ‘add drama to his own life’. As the reader, the times when the book questioned itself brought me back to the reality of what I was reading and engaged me to question it. While this is a very useful device, it can become annoying if used too often and without skill.

In A.H.W.O.S.G., however, the self-consciousness never became problematic as it was balanced with a level of honesty that was almost painful to watch. The book was not pretentious at all, and attempts at being ‘cool’ or being anything were shot down by the self-conscious side of it. This absence of any self-labeling within the story makes the novel even more personal and vulnerable, as it laughs at itself first to defend against any potential criticisms or other people lampooning it. All hatred, jealousy, and ulterior motives of the writer are undisguised.   

Earlier this year, we discussed ‘standard English’ and the fact that it does not really exist. This book fits this sentiment perfectly – not only is proper grammar abandoned at times, Eggers also uses lists, charts, and drawings to communicate his message. What is interesting is that his message is always delivered, and that oftentimes it is in the least organized parts that the message is the clearest.  This is perhaps aided by repeated swear words, which also contribute to the novel seeming like someone’s inner dialogue.

In conclusion, all these factors work together to create a book that makes you feel like you are sitting in Dave Eggers’ head, sifting through his past experiences and watching as he processes and deals with what life has given and is giving him. Watching another human’s thoughts (the part where we usually feel most alone) is at once comforting in its familiarity, but at the same time scary in the realization that we are not as special as we think we are. I’d definitely recommend this book, although beware – there may be some themes that people may be uncomfortable with. As mentioned before, it is very honest, and nothing is hidden from the reader’s view.  


Have a great summer! J