8.

9.  As my father frequently feels compelled to point out when I point out the unoriginality in anything- “There are no original thoughts.”  And as I’m quick to point out to him, “Yes Dad, but that doesn’t mean they have to be repeated word for word.”

10.  See #9

11.  How are you defining storytelling?  Fiction acknowledged as fiction?  I have a problem with referring to the Vedas of 1,400 b.c. being the earliest stories told.

12.

Yeah, an anal sex joke probably isn’t the most tasteful lead-in to this, but still:

When the film came out, I saw it.   Once.  That was enough.  I know all the controversy behind the inaccuracies and bias in the film, but still, it was powerful- and I had been affected by the Holocaust long before that.  And amidst all the horror of the showers, the medical experiments, the work camps, the lampshades, what stuck with me as worst was three things: the teeth, the soap, and the candles.  I even had a hard time watching Fight Club, for those of you who remember the scene in that film where Tyler Durden explains how soap is made.

To the point, like I said, this is the first time in almost twenty years I’ve looked at Slaughterhouse, and I’m reading Chapter Five when Billy sits down at a table for the prisoners of war and

At each place was a safety razor, a washcloth, a package of razor blades, a chocolate bar, two cigars, a bar of soap, ten cigarettes, a book of matches, a pencil, and a candle.

Only the candles and the soap were of German origin.  They had a ghostly, opalescent similarity.  The British had no way of knowing it, but the candles and the soap were made from the fat of rendered Jews and Gypsies and fairies and communists, and other enemies of the state.

So it goes.

This scene brought me right back to my teenage years and my physical reaction to the Holocaust.  It had been years since I actually felt upset to my stomach when considering WWII.  Here, though, it came rushing back.  Reflecting, I think it might be two things- one, the term “fairies.”  Maybe I had a nascent understanding back then that even though I wasn’t Jewish, I would have been in the camps indeed.

But that doesn’t explain the soap, candles, and teeth, and why those things bother me the most.  Upon reflecting this afternoon, I think it has to do with cannibalism.  I understand cannibalism (at least the cultural reason for it)- it’s consumption of the flesh, but for a purpose, whether symbolic or survival.  The soap and candles of this scene, though, are sub-cannibalistic.  They do dishonor not only to the victims, but, as odd as this is, to the practice of cannibalism itself.  The bodies of the Jews are being used as utility, and there’s simply no need for it (is there ever a need for killing- maybe somebody ought to write a pacifist manifesto about senseless massacre and–oh wait– I’m kind of in the middle of re-reading it now).  It puts me in mind of horses being made into glue.  The soap and candles don’t just remove the life from the victim, but strips them, in my mind, more than anything, of their actual humanity because it’s a tangible destruction of their very being- and they get killed a second time,washed or burned away.

2.  How do you leave out Colbert?  How?

3. Post-poostmodernism?

4.

5.  I do not understand minus the novel.  I think I should, but is the character just a character without the structure of narrative binding him?

6.  I love the term literary montage.  I am putting together a class activity with the prologue to Moby Dick, which I have decided is a poem.   As to the rags and the refuse, as Septimus Hodge says,

We shed as we pick up, like travellers who must carry everything in their arms, and what we let fall will be picked up by those behind.  The procession is very long and life is very short.  We die on the march.  but there is nothing outside the march so nothing can be lost to it.  The missing plays of Sophocles will turn up piece by piece, or be written again in anothr language.  Ancient cures for diseases will reveal themselves once more.  Mathematical discoverie glimpsed and lost to view will have their time again.  You do not suppose, my lady, that if all of Archimedes had been hiding in the great library of Alexandria, that we would be at loss for a corkscrew?

Remember Slaughterhouse Five?  The last time I read it was almost twenty years ago, but given that it was one of the choices I offered for summer reading, and some students read it, I thought, you know Jobie, you might wanna look at it again.  So this is my first reading as “an adult.”  I have two passages that struck me in the last two days- one political; one personal.  P

Political:  Some of you may have been following the MO Controversy.  One of the arguments being used for banning the book, at least in some reports I’ve read, have less to do with language and sex than they do with pacifism.  Well, to be honest, if that were the case, one need look no further than this fun tidbit from chapter one:

I have told my sons that they are not under any circumstances to take part in massacres, and that the news of massacres of enemies is not to fill them with satisfaction or glee.

The  coverage of Bin Laden’s death comes to mind.   Vonnegut’s next paragraph:

I have also told them not to work for companies which make massacre machinery, and to express contempt for people who think we need machinery like that.

WHO WRITES THIS ANYMORE?  Probably a lot of people actually; I just don’t read enough  of them.   I am going to try to find the article discussing the MO school banning the book on pacifist grounds.

Then on a personal note, this paragraph made me think of a buddy.  The whole father relationship made me think of him, but the last sentence, chilling, really sealed the deal.

Little Billy was terrified, because his father had said Billy was going to learn to swim by the method of sink-or-swim.  His father was going to throw Billy into the deep end, and Billy was going to damn well swim.

It was like an execution.  Billy was numb as his father carried him from the shower room to the pool.  His eyes were closed.  When he opened his eyes, he was on the bottom of the pool, and there was beautiful music everywhere.  He lost consciousness, but the music went on.  He dimly sensed that somebody was rescuing him.  Billy resented that.

I’m going to try to knock out two chapters now.  Then back to Tonio Kroger and some other fun stuff.

Not only do I happen to share a birthday with Gandhi, but I very much share this sentiment as well.  I don’t know where I came up with it, or why I share it- I’m not particularly interested in animal rights; I’m not a vegetarian.  I don’t oppose hunting or testing on animals, and yet there’s something about this quote I inherently agree with.

I’ve been thinking a lot about animals in literature as a result of The Sisters Brothers.  Eli’s horse, Tub, is a character as major as any other, especially as a looking glass for Eli’s compassionate side.  More on that in a minute.

This last June, in the best vacation of my life (even though I’ve been to NYC many, many times), I saw War Horse.  I was underwhelmed; hoping for more.  That’s not to say that the puppetry wasn’t spectacular, but the ending was just so… flat.  Nevertheless, it too made me think about this concept of animals.  The first act of War Horse is phenomenal- it really speaks to the ability of our animals, our pets, as manifestations of the best emotional states we have within us.  For those of you who have seen it, consider the parallel relationships Joey (the horse) has both with the boy Albert and the German officer, Mueller.   It is one thing to see boys in love with their horses (no Equus jokes, please), but it is another to see the “good side” of the “bad German” come out when his animal is threatened.  We sympathize with Mueller- he may even in fact be the third protagonist- because of the sympathy he has for Joey the horse.   Take a look at some of this puppetry:

More, from Planet of the Apes and Sisters Brothers  after the jump. Then, I find the same theme getting ready for the upcoming Rise of the Planet of the Apes when I am watching my original Apes series.  From Cornelius’ explanation of how the Apes began to rise in Escape from Planet of the Apes, below:

By the time the plague was contained, Man was without pets; and for Man, this was intolerable.  He might kill his brother, but he could not kill his dog.  [emphasis mine]

Boy I wish I could have found that on youtube.  Oh well.

Finally, we have Tub in Sisters Brothers.  There’s no question DeWitt intends for us to see Tub as a crucial element of the story; Eli refuses to give him up throughout many times in the novel- even to the point where he is blinded.  The first section is even called  “Trouble with the Horses.”  Tub is a constant reason for Eli to behave mercifully, correctly.   Charles understands Eli’s relationship with Tub as little as he understands Eli’s desire to leave killing-for-hire.  When Tub dies, though, so does Eli’s determination to not kill Warm:

Tub’s death proved useful in diffusing Charlie’s upset, concerned as he was for my well-being, offering me encouraging words, a promise to go halves on a new horse, one who would be just as fit as Nimble [here, Nimble is Charlie's horse] or better.  I went along with his comforts, acting solemn and thoughtful, but in truth I was not particularly unhappy about Tub’s passing.  Now that he was gone it was as though my sympathy for him too was gone and I was looking forward to my life without him.  He was a kindhearted and good animal but he had been a significant burden to me; our lives were not suited as mates.  Many months later I became sentimental about him, and this feeling is still with me today, but at the time of his actual demise I experienced merely a lifted weight.

Animals.  Yeah.   On to Tonio Kroger and Slaughterhouse Five and stuff about this year’s classes.

When a man is properly drunk it is as though he is in a room by himself–there is a physical, impenetrable separation between him and his fellows. [Chapter 29]

Yes, but isn’t setting  up that separation sometimes the point of drinking?  For me it is.

Eli asks a whore,

‘Why does anyone [feel low]?  It creeps up on you from time to time.’

‘But you were glad the one moment, then suddenly not.’ [Ch. 30]

My few regular readers know how much this exchange probably hit me.  Eli’s solution- rob the whorehouse owner of all his money, beat him over the brain with a pistol, and bury the money under the stove in the basement.

I’ll call that “Plan B” for dealing with chronic depression.

Eli helps another character to see a path without being able to see it himself, and the character illuminated by Eli realizes

‘I am a man who needs to rebuild, and the first thing I will work on is my sense of purpose.’ [Ch. 34]

Now, I don’t need to work on a sense of purpose, but even with re-starting this blog (for the second time), I am indeed trying to rebuild, trying to make some changes in my own life, but starting on the inside, not the outside.  It’s a cool sentiment whose triteness doesn’t make it any less true.

Finally (and although there’s one other passage I’ve highlighted, I’m not going to put it in here- too personal), there is one of my favorite lines in the book.  It is definitive, but delusional.  It is like the smoker who keeps one last cigarette.  In Chapter 47, Eli decides that even if the murder of the Commodore won’t be his final murder,

this will be the final era of killing in my lifetime.  [emphasis DeWitt's]

What a neat bit of self-rationalization.  How many of us have said “okay, this is the BEGINNING of the END” regarding anything- one more potato chip, one more hour of the Cosby Show marathon, pretending to pass out in order to receive CPR from one more firefighter…

The book didn’t give me a lot to go on as a whole, but some of the little passages and sentiments here led me to some nice self-reflection.

It came over me all at once, then:  I was not an efficient killer.  I was not and would never be.  [My brother] Charlie had been able to make use of my temper was all; he had manipulated me, exploited my personality, just as a man prods a rooster before a cockfight.  I thought, How many times have I pulled a pistol on a stranger and fired a bullet into his body, my heart a mad drum of outrage, for the lone reason that he was firing at Charlie, and my very soul demanded I protect my own flesh and blood?…

…I said, ‘This is the last job for me, Charlie.’

[from Chapter 41- iBooks doesn't allow for consistent pagination]

Of course, later Eli again regresses into

…lust and disgrace, exhaling hotly through my nostrils… [more on animal behavior later]

[from Ch. 48]

And the final note, about 75% of the way through Eli’s journey:

I shook my head to awaken my true self.

[also from Ch. 48]

The origin of his path as a killer is later revealed, but is not much more interesting than many similar works that have come before it; it’s not that there isn’t nuance; there just isn’t much “new” nuance (and I realize that a lot of my students would chastise me for making this observation).

A nice character study set in the American Old West.  But Booker winner?  I wouldn’t see it.

Then again, how many books of mine have been nominated for the booker?  Or even published?

2 more thoughts on the novel to arrive later.

‘Rag!’ said the old man, and again the pregnant girl emerged to hurl a steaming cloth over the counter, and again she returned, saying nothing.  Wiping his forehead, Charlie smiled.  ‘That your woman, old man?’

‘She is,’ he said proudly.

‘That your child in her belly?’

His face puckered to a scowl.  ‘You doubt the quality of my seed?’

‘I had no plans to discuss your seed.’

Re: the final line:  Clearly, Charlie doesn’t spend any time in gay chat rooms or on nifty.org.

His tears behind a veil of flowers,

The news come in from town.

His virgin seen near country bower,

In arms of golden down.

His heart mistook her smile for kindness,

And now he pays the cost.

His woman lain in sin, her highness,

Endless love is lost.

Pretty, no?  And, to get personal, I myself have mistaken several smiles for kindness in the past, and in some cases still am paying the cost.  I especially like that it’s his heart and not him that makes the mistake.  You may know someone is using you, but your heart is weak enough that you allow hope to shine through that (s)he’s not.    Don’t you hate that shit, when someone pulls that on you?