Recently I have started reading "1984" by George Orwell. The book is set in 1984, but an imagined one. Orwell wrote the book in the 1940s, so it is an imagined chronology of 1984. And what a different 1984 it is! Orwell writes of a supremest regime ruled by Big Brother, a tyrannical leader who is both worshipped and feared by all. To instill this fear and monitor the devotion Big Brother has installed devices in all houses that can record movement and hear audio that are almost like television. He has set up a vast government with communist-like coupons for food and clothing divided equally. The country (The novel takes place in London) is almost always at war with one country or the other and a new shorter language (Newspeak) is slowly leeching the English language of its adjectives and adverbs. The book focuses on Winston Smith who works in the Ministry of "Truth," erasing all of Big Brothers false speeches and predictions and making them correct. However, Smith secretly writes in a diary about Big Brother's regime and his stifled hatred of the regime in a spot blind to the monitor, a deed easily punishable by death. It is the former sentence, I believe, that causes the latter.
I think that the reason Smith is so different than his Big Brother fearing peers is his very job. Unlike Smith's friend, Syme, who diligently and enthusiastically purges English and replaces it with Newspeak, Smith's job is not to improve upon the regime or add to it, it is to erase its mistakes and clean up after it. Smith is constantly being exposed to Big Brother's mistakes and the very proof of his vulnerability.
Big Brother has worked very hard at establishing himself as almost a God, the almighty power that can see everything you're doing. And the devotion that "God" inspires in his followers is almost matched by Big Brother's "subjects." However, this image is marred by the fact that he is still human and does make mistakes such as predicting an over-production of goods when there was actually a loss. And since Smith is the one who actually realizes that Big Brother makes these mistakes, he can never see Big Brother as his other comrades do. It is this realization that prods Smith to hate Big Brother, which comes from seeing who he actually is, not some propaganda-ed hero.
This proves one of the most timeless causes of revolution, which I believe the book is leading to, information. When information is present, people can interpret it for themselves without someone else telling them what to think of it. Information helps people think for themselves and back up their suspicions and opinions. This is why Smith has the capacity to hate Big Brother, he has the information to do so. This is the regime's blind spot.
Sunday, April 28, 2013
Sunday, April 14, 2013
The Death Issue
Once upon a time, I attempted to write a novel. I bought a leather-bound maroon book with gold trim and lined paper and told myself I would scribe until the end of the volume and publish it (in the process becoming rich and famous and getting a dog). I was six. Needless to say I did not make it to the end of that book. In fact I only finished about 20 pages in my huge first grade block letters. The book was about two friends who grew apart, but got back together due to an elaborate plan and some minor animal kidnapping. The girls, named Anika and Sophie, were my dream alter-egos. They had their own rooms, pets and had delicious things like mac and cheese for dinner, and whipped cream and waffles for breakfast. They were talented (Sophie was a dancer, Anika drew), smart, pretty, basically perfect in every way. But that's what happens in the idyllic world of children's books, everything works out and everyone is special. Its so different from the YA books of today with their death, rape and social destruction-al themes. And transitioning between the happiness of early picture books to the disparaging works that fill my current shelves was one of the most eye-opening moments of my life.
Death becomes more integrated into the books we read as we get older, no longer just belonging to sickly animals or ancient grandparents. As death extends its dark reach to our teenage heroes and heroines, we wonder just how vulnerable we are. John Green informs us about cancer, Laurie Halse Anderson tells us about bulimia, Ellen Hopkins opens up our world to drugs. To the closeted reader that I am, books are a way to soak up the impossible and the all to possible. Books are the doorways and manuals to things I have yet to experience, and death is such a huge part of that.
Where do we go? So many volumes have tried to address this inevitability. What religion doesn't tell us, stories make up, or sometimes refute the teachings of old. Heaven. Hell. What is even the difference? Elsewhere, a charming yet borderline creepy book, tells us we will be reborn as young children, perhaps addressing the degradation of our society and of ourselves. The Golden Compass, or to be more specific the Amber Spyglass, speaks of the dead, shadows in a barren land. The idea of this anomaly troubles me, for although when we were little death was a peaceful slumber, I now know the unknown lays beyond.
How will we die? Of course we don't know now, how would life work if we just counted the hours we had left in this world? Books have addressed this issue and more. But back to the question. The Hunger Games teaches us about our inner savages, waiting for the right venue to explode, the potential for violent ends in all of us. The Fault in Our Stars tells us of a different kind, a languishing death, so poignantly slow and painful that it almost hurts to read. Conrad sought suicide in Impulse and found "eternal rest." And others still teach us about the sudden death that occurs via car or crashing wave, unbeknownst until its too late. These different means expose us to both the horrors surrounding us and those within. All waiting until something falls into place and we vacate this world.
So death surrounds us, and books have taught us that. Exposing some to that which was not imaginable and warning others about their paths. Innocent childhoods stolen by death, lust, greed. They're gone. For me it was books that took away my innocence and opened so many doors. And to think people say that teenagers feel like they're invincible; I feel closer to the grave than ever.
Death becomes more integrated into the books we read as we get older, no longer just belonging to sickly animals or ancient grandparents. As death extends its dark reach to our teenage heroes and heroines, we wonder just how vulnerable we are. John Green informs us about cancer, Laurie Halse Anderson tells us about bulimia, Ellen Hopkins opens up our world to drugs. To the closeted reader that I am, books are a way to soak up the impossible and the all to possible. Books are the doorways and manuals to things I have yet to experience, and death is such a huge part of that.
Where do we go? So many volumes have tried to address this inevitability. What religion doesn't tell us, stories make up, or sometimes refute the teachings of old. Heaven. Hell. What is even the difference? Elsewhere, a charming yet borderline creepy book, tells us we will be reborn as young children, perhaps addressing the degradation of our society and of ourselves. The Golden Compass, or to be more specific the Amber Spyglass, speaks of the dead, shadows in a barren land. The idea of this anomaly troubles me, for although when we were little death was a peaceful slumber, I now know the unknown lays beyond.
How will we die? Of course we don't know now, how would life work if we just counted the hours we had left in this world? Books have addressed this issue and more. But back to the question. The Hunger Games teaches us about our inner savages, waiting for the right venue to explode, the potential for violent ends in all of us. The Fault in Our Stars tells us of a different kind, a languishing death, so poignantly slow and painful that it almost hurts to read. Conrad sought suicide in Impulse and found "eternal rest." And others still teach us about the sudden death that occurs via car or crashing wave, unbeknownst until its too late. These different means expose us to both the horrors surrounding us and those within. All waiting until something falls into place and we vacate this world.
So death surrounds us, and books have taught us that. Exposing some to that which was not imaginable and warning others about their paths. Innocent childhoods stolen by death, lust, greed. They're gone. For me it was books that took away my innocence and opened so many doors. And to think people say that teenagers feel like they're invincible; I feel closer to the grave than ever.
Sunday, April 7, 2013
Paternal Ramifications
Over spring break, as any teen with my ardor for the written word would do, I read many books. As my friends had scattered to various parts of the world to sojourn in various hotels and houses, I simply lay in my bed and devoured every book available online for free and the books my mother brought me from the library, as well as some old favorites. Among these volumes were the "Pretty Little Liars" series and "Looking for Alaska."
As anyone who has read these books can tell, they are very different from each other. So dissimilar that it would seem fairly impossible to imply that they had any significant similarities other than they are all about teenagers. The former is about a group of wealthy teenagers living in suburban Philedelphia finding themselves and building their friendships and relationship amid the ongoing murder investigation of their best friend and threatening notes from the mysterious "A." The latter, "Looking for Alaska," is about a teenage boy named Miles finding "the great perhaps" in a Alabama boarding school aided by the Colonel (a brilliant scholarship student with a penchant for planning), Lara, Takumi and Alaska Young ( a sad, clever and beautiful girl searching for her way out of the "labyrinth" after the death of her mother). One thing that stood out to me with all of these books is the effect of a father figure to the main characters.
The paternal figure is often thought of as a mentor to boys, but they have an equal impact on their daughters. For example, in the "Pretty Little Liars" series, protagonist Hanna is prodded back into her eating disorder due to her father's new step daughter who "wears a size two!" Hanna even expresses this to her dad, saying, that she is "like a size two...I'm huge!" This is even though Hanna is thought to be thin by her peers. Her father does not respond, furthering her self esteem issues and pushing her deep into a cycle of bulimia and bad relationships. Another girl in the series pushed into bad relationships by her fathers actions is another protagonist Aria Montgomery. After Aria saw her Dad cheating on her Mom, he made her promise not to tell, which she kept for almost three years. When the clandestine affair goes public, Aria gets romantically involved with a teacher, saying, "I was vulnerable and he was there." Her fathers pressuring and extra-marital affairs got her into trouble, her boyfriend arrested and herself alienated.
In "Looking for Alaska" the protagonist is named Miles, but the subject of the book is (arguably) Alaska Young. Miles is smitten and describes her as effortlessly beautiful, charismatic, intense, charismatic and troubled. Not the archetypal beautiful girl, but definitely worth obsessing over, in his opinion. Alaska's impulsiveness evidenced by her sudden desires to kiss or drive recklessly, is revealed to be caused by her believed causation of her mother's death. Her father reportedly blames her for her mother's demise and she lives with this imposed guilt everyday. It is also this guilt, I believe, that makes Alaska eventually die as she speeds towards her mother's grave after she forgot the anniversary of the death. If her father had made a connection with her after her mothers's death or attempted to remedy his accusations of fault made years ago, Alaska may not have felt such pressure to get to the grave and die.
I have a relatively healthy relationship with my father. Because my parents are divorced, I get to see him more often one on one and, I believe, get to know him a little better than my friends and their fathers whose parents are still together. However, what someone's relationship with their father is supposed to be is hard to define. What anyones relationship with anyone else is supposed to be is also unclear. Should there be such definitions, such boundaries? How close is too close and how far is to far? These are questions that must be answered on a case by case basis, for as seen in these books, fathers definitely affect so much more than just their children.
As anyone who has read these books can tell, they are very different from each other. So dissimilar that it would seem fairly impossible to imply that they had any significant similarities other than they are all about teenagers. The former is about a group of wealthy teenagers living in suburban Philedelphia finding themselves and building their friendships and relationship amid the ongoing murder investigation of their best friend and threatening notes from the mysterious "A." The latter, "Looking for Alaska," is about a teenage boy named Miles finding "the great perhaps" in a Alabama boarding school aided by the Colonel (a brilliant scholarship student with a penchant for planning), Lara, Takumi and Alaska Young ( a sad, clever and beautiful girl searching for her way out of the "labyrinth" after the death of her mother). One thing that stood out to me with all of these books is the effect of a father figure to the main characters.
The paternal figure is often thought of as a mentor to boys, but they have an equal impact on their daughters. For example, in the "Pretty Little Liars" series, protagonist Hanna is prodded back into her eating disorder due to her father's new step daughter who "wears a size two!" Hanna even expresses this to her dad, saying, that she is "like a size two...I'm huge!" This is even though Hanna is thought to be thin by her peers. Her father does not respond, furthering her self esteem issues and pushing her deep into a cycle of bulimia and bad relationships. Another girl in the series pushed into bad relationships by her fathers actions is another protagonist Aria Montgomery. After Aria saw her Dad cheating on her Mom, he made her promise not to tell, which she kept for almost three years. When the clandestine affair goes public, Aria gets romantically involved with a teacher, saying, "I was vulnerable and he was there." Her fathers pressuring and extra-marital affairs got her into trouble, her boyfriend arrested and herself alienated.
In "Looking for Alaska" the protagonist is named Miles, but the subject of the book is (arguably) Alaska Young. Miles is smitten and describes her as effortlessly beautiful, charismatic, intense, charismatic and troubled. Not the archetypal beautiful girl, but definitely worth obsessing over, in his opinion. Alaska's impulsiveness evidenced by her sudden desires to kiss or drive recklessly, is revealed to be caused by her believed causation of her mother's death. Her father reportedly blames her for her mother's demise and she lives with this imposed guilt everyday. It is also this guilt, I believe, that makes Alaska eventually die as she speeds towards her mother's grave after she forgot the anniversary of the death. If her father had made a connection with her after her mothers's death or attempted to remedy his accusations of fault made years ago, Alaska may not have felt such pressure to get to the grave and die.
I have a relatively healthy relationship with my father. Because my parents are divorced, I get to see him more often one on one and, I believe, get to know him a little better than my friends and their fathers whose parents are still together. However, what someone's relationship with their father is supposed to be is hard to define. What anyones relationship with anyone else is supposed to be is also unclear. Should there be such definitions, such boundaries? How close is too close and how far is to far? These are questions that must be answered on a case by case basis, for as seen in these books, fathers definitely affect so much more than just their children.
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