Use Foucault's statement as a lens for thinking about Kincaid's novel:
"One writes in order to become other than what one is."
Tuesday, December 2, 2008
Not an autobiography, huh?
So, maybe I'm an idiot and missed the whole memo on The Autobiography of my Mother not being a real autobiography. I mean, I knew from the title that it was probably going to be very Danticat-like, most of the story being told about the protagonist, who I assumed to be Jamaica Kincaid's mother. Oh, how wrong I was. I read about two pages in, and then I realized that at the beginning of the course Ann Page said we would be reading one piece of fiction, a book that was not an autobiography at all. Ah-ha! It must be this one! So, I read the copyright information and realized that there was a note from the publisher:
"This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental."
And so I decided that I would have to read The Autobiography of my Mother in a much different manner than I have been reading the other pieces we have covered in this course. All along I have been reading the autobiographical pieces and wondering to myself, how much of this is true? How many liberties has this author taken in representing and retelling his or her life's accounts? Now, as I read The Autobiography of my Mother, I ask myself some different questions. I keep trying to find evidence of why the events seem untrue, or as if they never actually occurred in a real person's life. I think I am starting to find these pieces of evidence that have really made me say to myself, "That right there is why this book is not an autobiography. That is why there is no way that Xuela could possible be real."
So, maybe some of these events, or the ideas associated with these events occurred in Jamaica Kincaid's life. More likely, they did not. This book definitely aims for the shock factor for sure. I am sure there are some events that just evoke a HOLY CRAP reaction. I was that way when I read about Xuela pulling the fetus from her sister's womb (I apologize if you haven't gotten that far yet...at least I prepared you for it). I guess I have two questions, upon all this reflection:
Could Jamaica Kincaid have masked some of these events as fiction (because I trust that some of them really are complete fiction) in order to receive that detached feeling that we get when read Danticat? And...do we read texts differently, looking for different things, depending on the genre?
"This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental."
And so I decided that I would have to read The Autobiography of my Mother in a much different manner than I have been reading the other pieces we have covered in this course. All along I have been reading the autobiographical pieces and wondering to myself, how much of this is true? How many liberties has this author taken in representing and retelling his or her life's accounts? Now, as I read The Autobiography of my Mother, I ask myself some different questions. I keep trying to find evidence of why the events seem untrue, or as if they never actually occurred in a real person's life. I think I am starting to find these pieces of evidence that have really made me say to myself, "That right there is why this book is not an autobiography. That is why there is no way that Xuela could possible be real."
So, maybe some of these events, or the ideas associated with these events occurred in Jamaica Kincaid's life. More likely, they did not. This book definitely aims for the shock factor for sure. I am sure there are some events that just evoke a HOLY CRAP reaction. I was that way when I read about Xuela pulling the fetus from her sister's womb (I apologize if you haven't gotten that far yet...at least I prepared you for it). I guess I have two questions, upon all this reflection:
Could Jamaica Kincaid have masked some of these events as fiction (because I trust that some of them really are complete fiction) in order to receive that detached feeling that we get when read Danticat? And...do we read texts differently, looking for different things, depending on the genre?
Speech in fiction..
I keep noticing the number of times Kincaid writes about the theme of speech. I find it interesting that she discusses her experiences with speech so often through writing. Perhaps the character has always found it easier to express themselves through writing rather than speech? I think there is evidence to this through the character's letters to her father.
I also find the themes of love and hate throughout the novel to be very interesting. Kincaid discusses the similarities of arguably two of the strongest human emotions...
I also find the themes of love and hate throughout the novel to be very interesting. Kincaid discusses the similarities of arguably two of the strongest human emotions...
...Kincaid....
"An Autobiography of my Mother"
"Mother Dying" (3)
"And this realization of loss and gain made me look backward and forward: at my beginning was this woman whose face I had never seen, but at my end was nothing, no one between me and the black room of the world."
--self reflection, realization of the self, in relation to one's family
"Ma Eunice" (5)
"brutality is the only real inheritance and cruelty is sometimes the only thing freely given."
--product of social reconstruction
"Mother Dying" (3)
"And this realization of loss and gain made me look backward and forward: at my beginning was this woman whose face I had never seen, but at my end was nothing, no one between me and the black room of the world."
--self reflection, realization of the self, in relation to one's family
"Ma Eunice" (5)
"brutality is the only real inheritance and cruelty is sometimes the only thing freely given."
--product of social reconstruction
from Paul:
"Why are people prompted to write their autobiographies? Is it because they are vain and believe they have an important story that needs to be heard? In some cases I believe that this is the case but I think that in the vast majority of cases it is because the person has woken up one morning realizing that their life is finite. That one day, maybe in the very near future they will die, writing an autobiography is a way to immortalize themselves. I am sure that there are more reasons, and different ways of looking at this question. But at the heart of it I think autobiographers are just trying to preserve a part of themsleves, regardless of the reason they feel the need to do so."
"Why are people prompted to write their autobiographies? Is it because they are vain and believe they have an important story that needs to be heard? In some cases I believe that this is the case but I think that in the vast majority of cases it is because the person has woken up one morning realizing that their life is finite. That one day, maybe in the very near future they will die, writing an autobiography is a way to immortalize themselves. I am sure that there are more reasons, and different ways of looking at this question. But at the heart of it I think autobiographers are just trying to preserve a part of themsleves, regardless of the reason they feel the need to do so."
we are the books we read
"a literary work is a communal act"
why?
when i first heard this, i sort of brushed it off as just another quote that was trying to get at the backbone of writing. but the more i considered it, the more it began to make sense for a number of reasons. the first one being that, our whole lives we are around other people, creating experiences and interacting with one another. the stories of these events are the basic material of our autobiography (as well as other genres of literature), and they undoubtedly include people other than ourselves. in this way, our writing would not have been possible without the effect of the community we live in. even if your a hermit and havent been in the company of others in 50 years, there would still be fundamental parts of yourself that would have come from the people you were raised by. as humans we learn everything by imitation, and so everything within you essentially comes from someone else.
not only does the society in which we live, influence the matter of our past experiences. they also help to recreate the stories of each literary work. the writer physically scribbles their intangible experiences onto a page, making it concrete between the two covers of the book. but if no ones eyes ever read over those specially arranged symbols - no ones mind ever contemplates each written word into meaning - no ones perception of 'now' is suspended so that they may listen to the 'then' . . . the writers story might have been better off free from the binds of text. without an audience or a receptive community of readers/listeners, the literary work fails to exist anywhere but between the white margins of pages never noticed.
and if no one acknowledges it, does that even exist?
why?
when i first heard this, i sort of brushed it off as just another quote that was trying to get at the backbone of writing. but the more i considered it, the more it began to make sense for a number of reasons. the first one being that, our whole lives we are around other people, creating experiences and interacting with one another. the stories of these events are the basic material of our autobiography (as well as other genres of literature), and they undoubtedly include people other than ourselves. in this way, our writing would not have been possible without the effect of the community we live in. even if your a hermit and havent been in the company of others in 50 years, there would still be fundamental parts of yourself that would have come from the people you were raised by. as humans we learn everything by imitation, and so everything within you essentially comes from someone else.
not only does the society in which we live, influence the matter of our past experiences. they also help to recreate the stories of each literary work. the writer physically scribbles their intangible experiences onto a page, making it concrete between the two covers of the book. but if no ones eyes ever read over those specially arranged symbols - no ones mind ever contemplates each written word into meaning - no ones perception of 'now' is suspended so that they may listen to the 'then' . . . the writers story might have been better off free from the binds of text. without an audience or a receptive community of readers/listeners, the literary work fails to exist anywhere but between the white margins of pages never noticed.
and if no one acknowledges it, does that even exist?
"People often confuse life narrative and fiction. Typically, they call autobiographical texts 'novels' though they rarely call novels 'autobiographies.' A life narrative is not a novel, although calling life narrative 'nonfiction,' which is often done, confuses rather than resolves the issue." (Smith & Watson 7).Autobiography of My Mother... initial observations
When I first picked up this book, I noticed two things just on quick observation. On the second page of the book (not the second page of the text... the actual second piece of paper behind the cover), there is a quote that says:
"Through subtle, poetic meditations that continually question the boundaries between solitude and family, love and hate, black and white, colonialism and the colonized, Kincaid casts a lucid wash of language over Xuela's tragically barren life." (St. Petersburg Times)
This struck me as interesting because of the phrase "solitude and family." I doubt whether any of us would have asserted that the opposite of solitude is family... but it's true. And especially poignant at a time of year when so many people gather their families together. It seems like a sad point to make, but I was somewhat taken by surprise in finding such a genuine sentiment and idea in a review of the book. I found it interesting, anyway.
Another thing that I noticed before even beginning to read was the simple, and somewhat obvious, visual clues that the book gives us. At the start of each chapter is a piece of the picture on the cover... with each chapter, more of the picture is revealed. I assumed that this meant we would learn more about Xuela's mother in each chapter. Perhaps I won't win a Nobel Prize for that astute piece of observation, but I thought it was worth noting.
And, it held true as I did read. In the first chapter we really learn very little about the mother other than that she was Carib. Not a lot to go on. But, in the second chapter we learn more. We learn that Xuela shares her mother's name: Xuela Claudette. We also learn that she was abandoned at a convent, and that the narrator's father loved her. In each chapter, we learn a little more, and maybe by the end it will add up to a whole person. I guess that's the point...
"Through subtle, poetic meditations that continually question the boundaries between solitude and family, love and hate, black and white, colonialism and the colonized, Kincaid casts a lucid wash of language over Xuela's tragically barren life." (St. Petersburg Times)
This struck me as interesting because of the phrase "solitude and family." I doubt whether any of us would have asserted that the opposite of solitude is family... but it's true. And especially poignant at a time of year when so many people gather their families together. It seems like a sad point to make, but I was somewhat taken by surprise in finding such a genuine sentiment and idea in a review of the book. I found it interesting, anyway.
Another thing that I noticed before even beginning to read was the simple, and somewhat obvious, visual clues that the book gives us. At the start of each chapter is a piece of the picture on the cover... with each chapter, more of the picture is revealed. I assumed that this meant we would learn more about Xuela's mother in each chapter. Perhaps I won't win a Nobel Prize for that astute piece of observation, but I thought it was worth noting.
And, it held true as I did read. In the first chapter we really learn very little about the mother other than that she was Carib. Not a lot to go on. But, in the second chapter we learn more. We learn that Xuela shares her mother's name: Xuela Claudette. We also learn that she was abandoned at a convent, and that the narrator's father loved her. In each chapter, we learn a little more, and maybe by the end it will add up to a whole person. I guess that's the point...
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