While reading A Walker in the City I am struck by how many senses Kazin uses to describe his surroundings. The text is brought to life by the sights, smells, and textures of his environment. During the section "The Kitchen" Kazin describes the brilliant white of the recently white-washed walls. He describes the textures of his mother's dress fabrics. The smells of the table overflowing with Sabbath food.
When I read this I thought do we all think of home in terms of our senses? Or is home something we describe with emotion. When I think of my home the only smell that comes to mind is the scent of the wood stove. Home to me is thought of as simply happiness, but maybe this is because I had never thought to describe it in terms of my senses.
Maybe this is just my "I'm really excited to go home for Thanksgiving" post.
Tuesday, November 18, 2008
Kazin on Kazin
"...a key to my book is of course this constant sense of division, even of flagrant contradiction between wanting the enclosure of home and the open city, both moral certainty and intellectual independence. ...to rebel against the tradition was somehow to hold fast to it." (Alfred Kazin at a symposium at the New York Public Library in 1987).
The Pressing Question to Mrs. Solovey
"You have lived in many places."
"Oui. Nous avons habité des pays differénts. La Russie, la France, l'Italie, la Palestine. Yes, many places."
"Why did you come here?" I asked suddenly.
She looked at me for a moment. I could not tell what she felt, or how much I had betrayed. But in some way my question wearied her. She rose, made a strange stiff little bow, and went out.
~A Walker in the City p. 130
What stood out to me the most in this passage was that "moment" of not knowing what Mrs. Solovey felt. It's a foot-in-mouth moment that I'm sure we've all encountered at some point. Especially with immigration or even just small moves, there's always the question of why they went to where they did. Everyone has their reasons, and some people are proud to say exactly what it was that made them settle on a certain place. Others, however, may have no explanation or no desire to share so they can keep certain events in the past, avoid a sob story, stop any further questions, or many more reasons. It's interesting to get a glimpse of discomfort (as I'll call it) in a situation that may be different from the majority of what we see today, but in a way that it is a believable situation.
"Oui. Nous avons habité des pays differénts. La Russie, la France, l'Italie, la Palestine. Yes, many places."
"Why did you come here?" I asked suddenly.
She looked at me for a moment. I could not tell what she felt, or how much I had betrayed. But in some way my question wearied her. She rose, made a strange stiff little bow, and went out.
~A Walker in the City p. 130
What stood out to me the most in this passage was that "moment" of not knowing what Mrs. Solovey felt. It's a foot-in-mouth moment that I'm sure we've all encountered at some point. Especially with immigration or even just small moves, there's always the question of why they went to where they did. Everyone has their reasons, and some people are proud to say exactly what it was that made them settle on a certain place. Others, however, may have no explanation or no desire to share so they can keep certain events in the past, avoid a sob story, stop any further questions, or many more reasons. It's interesting to get a glimpse of discomfort (as I'll call it) in a situation that may be different from the majority of what we see today, but in a way that it is a believable situation.
Sunday, November 16, 2008
More on Freedom and "Slavery" in Kazin
"In every cry of every man,
In every infant's cry of fear,
In every voice, in every ban,
The mind-forg'd manacles I hear."
-William Blake: London
This is the epigram that appears at the beginning of Kazin's autobiography. I don't think literary critics pay close enough attention to authors' uses of epigrams. I know exactly what kind of mental journey I am going to go on in Kazin's autobiography just by reading the epigram above. I already know a theme: the opposition between being enslaved and being free. Of course, in Kazin's case, he is not literally enslaved like our dear friend, Frederick. Kazin is enslaved by the idea that he does not know who he really is, and he has lost connections with what it means to be Jewish. America has done what it does best, Americanized another family of immigrants. That is why Kazin describes his feelings of lonliness. He is wearing the "mind-forg'd manacles" of misidentity (yup, I think I made up another word).
The epigram also relates directly to Alfred's conversation with Mrs. Solovey that I dissected in full detail in my previous entry. The "mind forg'd manacles" that Mrs. Solovey hears are the English words spoken every day by every one around her. These words are often spoken by immigrants just like her, immigrants who should stay attached to their native languages and values.
I always loved speaking French...
First of all, it made me quite pleased that I could understand most of the French that was utilized by Kazin in the third chapter of A Walker in the City. It definitely brought me back to my high school days when I was struggling so hard to learn that darn language. I took five consecutive years of French, and I was willing to bet that I would not remember any of it come college. Apparently, I have been proven wrong. I thought that a particularly poignant passage in the text included Mrs. Solovey's feelings on speaking a second language:
"Do you not think it is tiresome to speak the same language all the time? Their language! To feel that you are in a kind of prison, where the words you speak every day are like the walls of your cell? To know with every word that you are the same, and no other, and that it is difficult to escape? But when I speak French to you I have the sensation that for a moment I have left, and I am happy" (Page 127).
Talk about deep! I really love the way this passage sounds, and I enjoy reading it out loud, because I feel like so much feeling can be conveyed in just a few short sentences. There are few conversations that take place in Kazin's autobiography, so this one between Alfred and Mrs. Solovey must mean something. Obviously, Mrs. Solovey, Alfred's "Anna," is making a statement on the English language. She feels as if she has assimilated too much into American culture. She has lost her sense of identity and feels lonely because of it. She literally believes that every times she opens her mouth to speak, she has lost a piece of herself, because English is not her native language. Speaking French frees her from "the prison," in a way, because not all Americans can speak that language. Not all Americans can understand it. She feels happy, because she has something in her possession (the ability to speak another language) that not all English-speaking Americans have.
I wonder if she feels this same sense of freedom when she speaks Hebrew...
Thursday, November 13, 2008
Response to class & Abby
Adding to what Abby said, I think it really comes down to how well one can write their story. At the start of the semester, we discussed autobiography in terms of questions: What makes a story worth reading?; Why would anyone want to read your story? and so on...I think what can be partially concluded at this point is that anything can be interesting depending on the "hook" you use to entice your readers and reel them in with, and on the flip side, you can have the most compelling story in the world, but if you can't translate that story smoothly onto the page it just won't reach people the way you may want it to. Perhaps some stories are better told orally and some are just better written down. Does that mean the writer trades vivacity in person for animation on the page, and vice versa? Not always, but we've certainly seen this.
PS--I totally support a class trip to NYC.
PS--I totally support a class trip to NYC.
Response: visitors to the class
I guess the thing that our visitors made most clear to me is that writing style, clarity, and ability (for lack of a better word) are really what makes a story worth reading. Maybe that doesn't sound like groundbreaking news... but we always talk about what makes a story (a life) worth telling... and I'm beginning to think that's not really an important question at all. Or perhaps the answer is simply "whether or not it gets a good writer to render it." I think the real question should be "what about this story inspired this author to tell it to us?" or "why did this author invest such effort in creating such a well-made piece?" I guess the question I'm most interested in is not what made the story worth telling, but what made the author want to share it? Arrogance? A need to purge the story from his or her life? Belief that it could help those who read it? There are many answers to this question.
memoir = diet autobiography..... i beg to differ!
just coming from class, there are a few ideas freshly floating around in my mind.
in the beginning, we dismissed "memoir" from our intangible class list of important-sometimes-not-real-words. i believe the reason was that 'memoir' is not a literary term, whereas autobiography is. in defense of memoir, i'd like to say that that type of black and white reasoning is not satisfactory enough for me to strike 'memoir' from our list of important terms/ideas to consider. not only do i believe the term 'memoir' evokes quite a different definition than 'autobiography' does, but i also think that almost all written works should be considered valid under some kind of appreciation for creation.
explaining these two points . . . . when i think of what a memoir is in comparison to what an autobiography encompasses, the great weight of difference is in the content, its translation, and the portrayal of all involved persons. for me, a memoir is like a written memory. it focuses on a specific time or event in someones life and is retold through a foggy lense of subjective perceptions and influencing emotions. i feel as though they are mostly concerned with repainting the experiences of the person writing them, by way of a natural embellishment that comes with the filter of memory. we scarcely remember moments from a strictly objective point of view, and so while we are recounting actions of a true event, 'ourselves' will always heavily influence those recreations, whether we know it or not. i also think memoirs focus more strongly on the main character, rather than those surrounding them. while sometimes it is necessary to include information about others in order to gain a better sense of context, i think memoirs stay closer to their owners.
autobiographies on the other hand, evoke a more factual foundation for me. i feel as though they are the moments and events of someones life, laid out on the page in form and analysis. though authors of autobio.'s also utilize that subjective filter of perception to relay their messages and meanings, i think the moments were first created to serve an objective purpose. i suppose i think that autobiographies are more limiting than a memoir. i also expect them to be longer and to provide a more 'complete' look at whats happened in the life of the writer. i'm not saying that one is better than the other, just that i think memoir is as valid a way to write about ones self as autobiography is. . . . .
in the beginning, we dismissed "memoir" from our intangible class list of important-sometimes-not-real-words. i believe the reason was that 'memoir' is not a literary term, whereas autobiography is. in defense of memoir, i'd like to say that that type of black and white reasoning is not satisfactory enough for me to strike 'memoir' from our list of important terms/ideas to consider. not only do i believe the term 'memoir' evokes quite a different definition than 'autobiography' does, but i also think that almost all written works should be considered valid under some kind of appreciation for creation.
explaining these two points . . . . when i think of what a memoir is in comparison to what an autobiography encompasses, the great weight of difference is in the content, its translation, and the portrayal of all involved persons. for me, a memoir is like a written memory. it focuses on a specific time or event in someones life and is retold through a foggy lense of subjective perceptions and influencing emotions. i feel as though they are mostly concerned with repainting the experiences of the person writing them, by way of a natural embellishment that comes with the filter of memory. we scarcely remember moments from a strictly objective point of view, and so while we are recounting actions of a true event, 'ourselves' will always heavily influence those recreations, whether we know it or not. i also think memoirs focus more strongly on the main character, rather than those surrounding them. while sometimes it is necessary to include information about others in order to gain a better sense of context, i think memoirs stay closer to their owners.
autobiographies on the other hand, evoke a more factual foundation for me. i feel as though they are the moments and events of someones life, laid out on the page in form and analysis. though authors of autobio.'s also utilize that subjective filter of perception to relay their messages and meanings, i think the moments were first created to serve an objective purpose. i suppose i think that autobiographies are more limiting than a memoir. i also expect them to be longer and to provide a more 'complete' look at whats happened in the life of the writer. i'm not saying that one is better than the other, just that i think memoir is as valid a way to write about ones self as autobiography is. . . . .
Boland: Searching for an Identity
"My solitude was circumstantial. I had returned to Ireland in my teens; I had no knowledge of the Irish language. Therefore, I had to do the General Certificate of the British system. I was an erratic, hit-and-miss student, averse to discipline and hardly able to connect my intense reading of poetry with any other part of my studies." page 73
I found this passage interesting for a few reasons. The first is the fact that she had no knowledge of the Irish Language; was it because she had left, or was it because she grew up while Ireland was still struggling to escape the grasp of the British, however loose it may have been at that point? Also, I think it's worthy to note that she found no interest in any subject but poetry, as she became such a prominent female poet in a patriarchal society (especially in Irish literature). I also think it's strange that she couldn't connect poetry with anything else, considering many poets find their subject matter in everything, including the mundane.
It's a nice transition from the previous chapter, "In Search of a Nation" to this one, "In Search of a Language." Boland is constantly searching for an identity, which is reflected in this memoir as well as her poetry, and is a common thread we've seen through all of the autobiographies we've read so far.
I found this passage interesting for a few reasons. The first is the fact that she had no knowledge of the Irish Language; was it because she had left, or was it because she grew up while Ireland was still struggling to escape the grasp of the British, however loose it may have been at that point? Also, I think it's worthy to note that she found no interest in any subject but poetry, as she became such a prominent female poet in a patriarchal society (especially in Irish literature). I also think it's strange that she couldn't connect poetry with anything else, considering many poets find their subject matter in everything, including the mundane.
It's a nice transition from the previous chapter, "In Search of a Nation" to this one, "In Search of a Language." Boland is constantly searching for an identity, which is reflected in this memoir as well as her poetry, and is a common thread we've seen through all of the autobiographies we've read so far.
i apologize for the disruption of chronology...
but there was something i wanted to point out in danticats "brother i'm dying" during a class , when we ran out of time to get around to the whole room. we were discussing the private v.s the public and finding specific examples of that in the text.
on page 171, danticat retells her uncles experience of waking up to gunfire and chaos; the day the government tried to eradicate the gangs from the city by force. though she herself was not a part of the experience, she gave great details about the day and the actions of her uncle. What struck me, was when she spoke about her uncle looking around at all the debris and destruction, and thought to himself how he was happy his wife was deceased so that should wouldn't have to witness such horrible conditions.
for me, to be greatful of someones death is quite a heavy thought. in my opinion, to have a sincere thought like that would require an incredible amount of love and concern for the deceased person and an unimaginable state of pain for whomever is having the thought. having considered how deep an emotion like that is, i would like to know why Danticat would write something like that.
i think the only way for that statement about her uncle to be true, would be if he had actually admitted this to her. i dont believe that's a kind of emotion you can assume about someone. for me this ties into the private v.s. public because it is exactly that. it is the incredibly personal idea of someone other than the writer, being made extremely public, in attempts to portray the private aspects of the author.
the fact that danticat was not even present during that moment in her uncles life is crucial to this story working for her autobiography. not physically being there allows her to become an omnipresent entity for the retelling, which grants her access to really private information. this personal aspect of her uncle in turn, shapes the image of herself. i think it's incredibly intriguing how she separates herself in order to get closer.
and thats all i have to say about that!
sorry its so outdated.....
on page 171, danticat retells her uncles experience of waking up to gunfire and chaos; the day the government tried to eradicate the gangs from the city by force. though she herself was not a part of the experience, she gave great details about the day and the actions of her uncle. What struck me, was when she spoke about her uncle looking around at all the debris and destruction, and thought to himself how he was happy his wife was deceased so that should wouldn't have to witness such horrible conditions.
for me, to be greatful of someones death is quite a heavy thought. in my opinion, to have a sincere thought like that would require an incredible amount of love and concern for the deceased person and an unimaginable state of pain for whomever is having the thought. having considered how deep an emotion like that is, i would like to know why Danticat would write something like that.
i think the only way for that statement about her uncle to be true, would be if he had actually admitted this to her. i dont believe that's a kind of emotion you can assume about someone. for me this ties into the private v.s. public because it is exactly that. it is the incredibly personal idea of someone other than the writer, being made extremely public, in attempts to portray the private aspects of the author.
the fact that danticat was not even present during that moment in her uncles life is crucial to this story working for her autobiography. not physically being there allows her to become an omnipresent entity for the retelling, which grants her access to really private information. this personal aspect of her uncle in turn, shapes the image of herself. i think it's incredibly intriguing how she separates herself in order to get closer.
and thats all i have to say about that!
sorry its so outdated.....
Language
Apparently this is my semester to become obsessed with language in text. As I read all of the texts for this class I have been so struck by how each other uses language in their texts. While reading Danticat and Nabokov I noticed their uses of language because they used more than one language in their texts. After noticing this I began to look at how they used the English language to strengthen their works. Did they use short sentences? Periodic sentences? Poor grammar? Once I began to think about the seemingly simple aspects of language the texts became so much more than words in phrases.
While reading Kazin I began to think about my language theme again while reading pages 22-23. In these pages Kazin describes how difficult it was for him to speak. It is interesting for me to think about writing down the difficulties of speech...
I think I'll stop rambling now : )
While reading Kazin I began to think about my language theme again while reading pages 22-23. In these pages Kazin describes how difficult it was for him to speak. It is interesting for me to think about writing down the difficulties of speech...
I think I'll stop rambling now : )
A trip to NYC through Kazin
Similar to what Casey was saying about having these same memories, I can find myself in Kazin's novel but not as an immigrant. Every time I visit New York City, as a tourist, I am always completely fascinated in my surroundings. While reading A Walker in the City, I could picture exactly what he was talking about. Not by location, but rather by senses and his feelings towards it. Especially coming from a small state in a relatively small city, NYC has a different atmosphere and life of its own. Though I couldn't imagine living there, it is always a treat to regain the same sense of wonderment as I walk down each street.
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