I second Ann's post (see below) almost completely. What is the purpose of a literature course? My understand is that it functions as a vehicle of exposure to the major works that defined a given era. Such a purpose would seem to dictate reading the best that a period has to offer; though a given era in history is certainly not characterized by its best books, it seems silly to bother with books that are the equivalent of pop music when we could be reading something more Mozart-esque. If the purpose of a novel course is exposure to novels characteristic of the period, this certainliy doesn't preclude reading the best the period has to offer. Yes, the book is easy to read, but is this really a qualification for reading it in school? (It boggles the mind to consider what other books merit study in school if this is so.) In short, I fail to see why we should waste time on books such as Iola Leroy instead of aspiring to read (or struggle) through harder and better literature. Moby Dick was a rough read, but I respected myself while reading it.

Rant finished. On another note, I'd like to incite a little more dialogue about Iola's choice of husband. After spending an entire book vehemently opposing racism, Iola goes off and married according to race. Now, Harper doesn't write Dr. Gresham as a bad guy; in fact, Iola says that she could have married him " had there been no barrier in the way" (247). Said barrier - the only barrier to their marriage, then - is her mixed blood. Though she may have been more personally attracted to Dr. Latimer, she chooses to marry him because they don't face the social ostracism her match with Dr. Gresham would have. . . .To be quite honest, when Dr. Latimer's race was introduced, I felt myself thinking, "oh, great, she can marry this one!" Though I certainly don't think people should marry according to race, I felt the book led me to feel that Iola SHOULD. This seems to be an inherent contradiction, and one that Harper ought to have noticed. Any thoughts why she didn't?

posted by KenlynShea at 19:14 | link | comments

I was thinking about some of the comments that were made during our in-class discussion on Friday about the potential merits of this novel and what really struck me was that an awful lot of the criticisms and the compliments that were aimed at it were almost exactly the same.  It's childish and simplistic vs. it's easy to read.  It explicitly states opinions on a variety of important topics vs. it creates verbal concussions because of the overbearing preachiness.  It's a cute period piece vs. it really should have stayed in that period.  It's an important work by a marginalized member of society vs. "that's the ONLY reason it's even still in existence, isn't it?"

After listening to this discussion, I must say that my opinions were not changed at all, and that I continue to see almost no redeeming qualities to this novel.  I probably shouldn't say this but prudence was never my strong point, and so I'm going to keep typing.  Iola Leroy would indeed perhaps be a good novel to teach... to a junior high class burned out on the old saws like I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings and To Kill a Mockingbird.  The egregious lack of subtlety was probably one of the things that irked the people in our class most, and I think that a lot of the message would go over better with younger kids who haven't such high standards.  Get across the point that "racism is bad! bad! bad!" in an easy-to-read, 'historical' fashion while avoiding two of the most over-used books in public schools today (was it just in my jr. high/high school that almost every teacher required reading one or both of the above 'racism is bad!' books?  If so, I apologize for my comments). 

I must also say that I have serious doubts that if Iola Leroy were not written by a black woman any collection of fiction from that time period would include it.  There have to be novels that of far superior writing quality from this time period and dealing with the same subjects... just because it's a woman of oppressed descent doesn't mean we have to start scraping the bottom of the barrel in order to include her.  I would rather read the best of the time, without regards to racial or sexual identity of the author, than read writings of inferior quality just because of what the author happened to be. 

As a corollary to the above criticism, did  anyone else read the part during which Iola romanticizes about how beautiful, perfect, strong, and ideal Miss Delany is and think "strike THREE!  She's a woman, she's black, AND she's gay"?  I was about to give the book/author some credit at that point, just for loading the dice so heavily.  Personally, I thought it would have been funny... Iola's lyrical compliments of Harry's girlfriend come directly as Dr. Gresham is proposing and I really wanted a "no" given in truly shocking style.  I was quite saddened to find out that my slashy thoughts were all in vain, however.  We'll have to content ourselves with a 2 for 3 record. 

posted by Foreyt at 12:11 | link | comments (1)

Wednesday, April 21, 2004     And as for Iola Leroy. . .

A couple questions right off the bat. First, what's with the stilted and unrealistic dialogue? To be more specific, is it a product of the literature of the time period or a (distracting) flaw in Harper's writing?

Furthermore, do you guys know if it was common for books in this time period to be double titled (Iola Leroy or Shadows Uplifted)? If not, why the double title?

posted by KenlynShea at 00:01 | link | comments (2)

Despite Pudd'nhead Wilson's numerous unrealistic elements (Italian royalty moves to rural Missouri and promptly runs for political office? Riiiiiight), there is one thing about it that has consistently struck me as realistic as I finish it up. This is the way that the reader's sympathies (or mine, at least) shift dramatically from one character to the next as the plot advances, as well as how one's attitudes toward individual characters change throughout the novel.

While Tom and Chambers are eventually set up as the "good guy/bad guy" figures, there is that period at the beginning of the book where one's sympathy is entirely with Roxy and her child, only to have it abruptly shifted to the hapless Tom, now "Chambers" and away from Roxy, who is completely willing to condemn an innocent child to a life of slavery. As "Tom" grows up into the jerk that we will get to know so well throughout the rest of the novel, the reader by turns feels annoyed with and sorry for Roxy, who on the one hand spoils Tom rotten while neglecting Chambers and who on the other hand must put up with constant abuse by and lack of respect from her own son. Later, Roxy becomes a less sympathetic character still, when she encourages Tom in his theft and in his greed, only to again gain our sympathies when he cruelly sells her down the river. These are just a few of the ways in which the attitude of the reader toward characters shifts throughout the book.

As unrealistic (and sometimes flat out silly) the novel can get at times, I found this realistic element of the plot very interesting; it seems to me to be truer to most people's daily experiences, where we are rarely (if ever) confronted with clear-cut, unambiguously good guys and bad guys. Most of us will not feel exactly the same way toward any given person at all times - our attitudes toward them will change depending upon their actions and motivations, such as we perceive them. I thought that this fact was an interesting inclusion in this particular novel, and was one of the few truly realistic elements of an otherwise far-fetched plot.

posted by CatieB at 22:16 | link | comments (3)

After finishing this novel, I have a few ending notes that I'd like to make, and I apologize if they're not exactly complimentary.  This was the first book that we've read for this class (and actually one of the most dramatic examples that I can think of from books that I've just read for fun over the last few years) that I had serious problems with as a book in itself.  While, yes, I haven't always agreed with some of the other things we've read just because of characterization, pompousness, etc. I've always respected the books themselves and have been glad, at least in retrospect, that I've read them and absorbed them.  With PW this was verily not the case. 

First of all, Twain himself called the novel a 'literary caesarian section' because of his attempt at stringing out a full-length novel from an idea contained in one of his short stories, but due to the messy nature by which this was accomplished, it looks to me more like an abortion.  It could have been a term birth and the baby could have lived and flourished, but Twain seems to be almost too egotistical to abandon any of the jokes, puns, and varying humorous situations he created in this short story, and therefore permanently cripples what could have been a successful transformation.  The narrative is disjointed and actually absurd in places, mostly because there are loose ends created by the fact that Twain refused to cut some of the descriptions, and then does a hack job of attempting to cover them up.  Why create a novel that is, by default, purposely flawed?  I guess what I'm putting into question here is the sincerity of the novel - am I completely naive in assuming that most novels are written with at least a modicum of respect for the intended audience?  The feeling that I got from this book, unfortunately, was rather that Twain had slapped this together as a lark, one intended to play off his success - a throw-away effort geared toward money-making.  Coincidences?  Sure, why not.  Events that occur for no better reason than the plot needed another kicker?  Check.  Self-referencing?  Got it.  Pandering to the public's image of "Mark Twain"?  226 pages of it, yessiree.

Also, at the end of the novel, Twain describes the tragedy of society that befalls the real Tom after the denouement but then snidely adds that " we cannot follow his curious fate further - that would be a long story"; was shocked when I read this merely because he'd hit perfectly upon what I'd been wishing for - a character study of a man (or men, actually) completely alienated from society.  Yes, it may not have been as funny, but it couldn't have been any more 8-legged and contrived than the novel he finally did come up with. 

One final, not so bitchy question: why the title Pudd'nhead Wilson.  If not for the fact that he is the title character, I would definitely have placed him on the lower rungs of a 'developed character' list - he putters in and out, yes, but he's never really made round in any sense - he just plays the part that Twain invented him to play, no more, no less.

posted by Foreyt at 14:24 | link | comments

After reflecting on our in-class discussion on the differences between palmistry and fingerprinting, it struck me that yet another inference exists. Fingerprints (no matter what "Tom" may claim about twins having the same fingerprints) are highly individual, emphasizing responsibility, whereas palmistry focuses exclusively on fate's manifestation within the individual. . .So perhaps the dichotomy between the two 'sciences' reflects to a certain extent the novel's inner dichotomy of whether race or individual choice determines true character. Just a random thought.

posted by KenlynShea at 16:20 | link | comments

Alright, after reading some citicism of this novel (thanks Kenlyn!), and repeatedly finding this referred to as a novel of racial tolerance, I fear I must disagree.  Does it strike anyone else that a lot of the material could almost be used as an Aryan Nations text?  Roxy verbalizes this when she berates her prodigal son for his arrogance and cruelty - she says that he doesn't even have enough black blood in him to tint his fingernails, but there's enough there to color his soul anyway.  Rather an odd comment coming from this character, given her heritage and social position, but one that could, under the right lens, be seen to have some strength. 

I feel awful for writing this, but it disturbed me in some way how blatant this idea seems to be thrust forth in the novel - that if this race is given any power, they will abuse it.  The only 'white' character who is actively cruel is the counterfeit Tom, and he's contrasted quite starkly with his father and the other upstanding citizens of the town as being quite different, even though he's had the same upbringing.  Also, the first time that the babies' behavior is even mentioned is after they're switched and the new Tom is described as being constantly fractious and demanding - unconsciously abusing his position? 

I was just a little put off by what I read into this... am I completely off-base?

posted by Foreyt at 09:52 | link | comments (4)

And for a critical look at Pudd'nhead Wilson: http://etext.lib.virginia.edu/railton/wilson/pwcosmo.html The link will take you to an article written by Hjalmar Hjorth Boyesen (a Norwegian-born American writer who edited a Chicago paper and taught at both Cornell and Columbia).  The review is interesting for a number of reasons - most notably, it's curious in its lavish praise for Twain's novel. Though I've not finished it, the novel seems clearly flawed (e.g. the outlandish plot with rather awkward interjections of characters like Colonel Cecil Burleigh Essex, or the unexplained background of the twins [what? they were in a circus? for what were they displayed?]). Boyesen, however, is unrelenting in his praise of the oddly-structured and awkward novel; he claims the book to be exceptionally smooth reading because of Twain's excellent writing which, somehow, shapes it all into "logical and consistent coherence." Hm. Nonetheless, Boyesen isn't all superfluous praise. His praise of Twain's creation of the African-American characters is, in my opinion, well-placed (the dialogue is especially evocative of the speech patterns of the day, as I understand it). Kudos to Boyesen for recognizing one of the novel's outstanding points (along with its humor, which, per Twain, goes without mention). If you're not interested in the critical analysis, at least read the article for its eloquence. Boyesen sticks in such gems as, "How deliciously rich, racy, and copious is, for instance, his negro talk. The very gurgling laugh and cooing cadence seem, somehow, implied in the text; and the fancy instinctively adds the vivid miens and gestures," and this, if not precisely equal to PW, comes close to being just as entertaining.

posted by KenlynShea at 21:35 | link | comments (1)

Why did I like this book? Do I really need more excuses to indulge in masochistic tendencies? (To those of you who don't know me, that's sounds rather kinky, I know, but to those of you who do, think of a certain independent student publication we know and love...) Anyway, I must admit that I did enjoy this book, particularly the title character. The Tom-Penelope-Irene love triangle was more annoying to me than anything else, but I found Silas himself to be a very interesting character, particularly as a kind of archetypal, "All-American hero" figure. A couple of you in this class are also in American Lit. I this semester, and may remember the character of Manly from Royall Tyler's play "The Contrast." Silas reminded me of Manly in several ways - both are brash and boistrous, patriotic and thoroughly Yankee-ized. Both are rough, "self-made men" who apparently have little use for the pretensions of the elitist upper-class. An important difference being, of course, that Silas can't help but attempt to "crash" the gates of Boston high-society; while he may scoff at their snootiness and airs, he seems to want very much to be accepted by them. The construction of his garish, ornate house with it's elaborate furniture and shelves full of specially-ordered books is evidence of how far Silas is willing to go to complete his own "American dream" of success and prosperity. I think it is interesting to consider how the different characters in the novel play off of Silas and his idea of the "pursuit of happiness" that all Americans have been ensured. Rogers - financially ruined in the cogs of capitalism, sneaky and conniving, attempting to work the system to his advantage; Bromfield Corey - idly enjoying the fruits of inherited wealth and priveledge; Tom - attempting to make a name for himself in business apart from his father's name and reputation - these and other figures embody different ideas of the American Dream, and all of them contrast in interesting ways to that Dream as personified by Silas himself. These were the elements of character and plot that ultimately made me enjoy the book.

posted by CatieB at 00:28 | link | comments

Unfortunately, most of my posting has been in response to others' webpages, so I haven't had a chance to coherently scribe all my thoughts right here. Nonetheless, in response to Ann's lovely post: 1) Also, I've always been taught that the horse is a symbol of victory (which is appropriate, given the points in which it appears and disappears in the novel coincide with Lapham's "victory" of financial achievement). I also know that, psychologically, the horse is seen as a "noble" creature that is easily frightened; if we accept that the Laphams are striving for societal nobility and then are easily scared by the approaching relationship with the aristocratic Coreys, this makes a great deal of symbolic sense. 2) I can't tell you how much I appreciate the choice of Pen. The traditional choice would have been Irene; she's beautiful, easily dominated (Osmond would have appreciated her). When dealing with a culture working on delineating its own literary image, I loved the fact that Howells chose the exotic and intelligent (at least in comparison) daughter for a love interest. 3) Yes, that was me. I DO feel like the sold out on their ideals, as the character created in the beginning of the book are middle-class, home-grown American folk who pulled themselves up by their bootstraps. They have no need to show off for high society (think of when Persis tells Silas to take back the $500 check in exchange for a $100 one because "$100 is enough and I don't want to show off before them"). . .until the Corey match is suggested. . .I feel like that's a sell-out, yes, but I could be misjudging. Cate? Verdict?

posted by KenlynShea at 22:30 | link | comments (1)