Monday, March 29, 2010

NO SHAKESPEARE THIS MONTH!!!

I'm so sorry to say that I won't be reading and writing about a Shakespeare play this month.

In September I made a decision that I was going to start reading one Shakespeare play every month. I knew then that it was a promise that I would like to try to keep for the rest of my life, or at least for a few years, but that it was the promise I wouldn't always be able to keep. I knew that eventually life would get in the way, and that I wouldn't always be able to make time for it.

Well, the time has come. This is the first of six months that I won't be able to read a play. I have too much going on in my life, and I find that it would do more harm than good to force myself to do this--I said "force" because I'm really not in the mood for it, and Shakespeare is most enjoyable for me when I'm REALLY in the mood. I started reading "Coriolanus" a few days ago and felt like I needed to stop. And so I did.

I am acknowledging the fact that there is something missing from this month. I won't make up for it by reading two plays next month; I am simply acknowledging it and moving on, and will try my best to not let this happen again. But if it does, I'm sure it'll be for good reasons, and that I will be able to forgive myself.

Friday, March 19, 2010

My Affair with Foucalt

At this stage in my studies, reading theory is still difficult--although it had gotten easier over the years. Michel Foucault was one of the first theorists I had read. I remember how difficult he was, how I detested reading his works simply because I could barely understand him. Well, things have changed now. I'm sitting here with the first volume of "The History of Sexuality" next to me. I meant to read it from cover to cover the last time I took it out of the shelf--probably a year ago--but stopped after I got about two-third into it. I realized that it had gotten easier to read, and I very much enjoyed his composition, yet my patience didn't sustain long enough for me to finish the book.

Towards the end of last month, I decided that I would finally finish it. Only a few days ago I took it out of the shelf again and reread the first four chapters of the fourth part, "The Deployment of Sexuality." It was even easier and more enjoyable this time around; I was surprised by how much fun I had trying to understand his complex argument and the pleasure I got from succeeding. I no longer furrow my brows, and sometimes even smile.

It is a love affair. I like him more the more I read him. And now, as he has continued to become a part of my life, to benefit my studies and my understanding of the world, I feel as if there is a bond between us. It's different from the affair I have with Shakespeare. Because Shakespeare's plays are fictional, the relationship I develop is with the story, the themes, and the characters; while there is an intimate connection I feel with Shakespeare--or, rather, his work--I don't feel like I am getting deeper into his mind the more I read his work, since the words I read come from his taking on different personae--something he does so brilliantly but also something that shields us from getting to know who he really is. With Foucault, however, the voice I hear is the voice of this "Michel Foucault," and it is the voice that I have come to know and grown accustomed to. I don't presume that I know who he is from reading his work, but what I know is this persona--the brilliantly thoughtful man whose insights continue to challenge and expand my mind.

I have been accepted into four MA programs so far. My writing sample is a paper I wrote in Queer Theory class about Monogamy, drawing largely from Foucault. While I didn't have much confidence in the work--and even now I still feel that it doesn't fully represent me as a scholar--it is probably one of the main reasons these schools find me a desirable candidate. It seems, then, that Foucault had helped me to get into these schools, and therefore strengthening my relationship with him.

If ever would i teach a theory class in a university, I would tell my reluctant students that there is a lot of reward in trying to understand theoretical texts. There are authors who intentionally make their writings difficult so not to undermine the complexity of the ideas, but I don't think Foucault is one of them; his texts are difficult because there is no easy way to write about these issues. Anybody who studies the art of composition can read his texts and see how carefully constructed his sentences are. His use of punctuation is impeccable. There is a lot you can learn from him.

I intend to finish Volume 1 within the next few days. Instead of moving on to Volume 2, I want to read bits and pieces of his other works. I have just bought "The Foucault Reader" edited by Paul Rabinow, which I cannot wait to start.

Monday, March 15, 2010

"Nausea" by Jean-Paul Sartre; Lloyd Alexander, trans.

This month I planned to spend most of my reading time on French literature. This book was my first choice.

"Nausea" is well known as an Existentialist novel. I knew next to nothing about Existentialism, and didn't really take the time to research it before reading the novel. But it didn't matter. I read the book the same way I did any other novel.

The philosophy behind the work is pretty obvious; it drives the whole story. Most of the book takes place inside the narrator's head. His name is Antoine; he is a writer and historian. The novel is written as a compilation of journal entries, and there is an indication in the beginning that the journals were "found" rather than published by the author, so he might have been dead or somehow not responsible for the publication of his work. The events aren't all that exciting, but they all lead him to the conclusion of the meaninglessness of life. This climax is then followed by his realization that one is free to give life any meaning one wishes.

What I found impressive about the book is the writing. The book was so well written that I thoroughly enjoy it, despite it being heavy with philosophical ideas that I don't particularly care about. The book made a big impact on the readers when it was published in 1938, but the ideas that it presents are nothing new in our time. What made it so enjoyable to me is how well it is structured and orchestrated. Everything that happens has its purpose. As the character goes through his simple life, his thoughts continue to develop into a grand revelation.

Aside from being packed with ideas, the book is also a well conceived novel. There are many elements here that would benefit students of literature and creative writing. It might not have been so famous had it not been for the Existentialistic impact, but it is a good novel nonetheless. And since one of the important aspects of literature studies is looking at the work in accordance to the society, I would say that it is necessary to add this book to your repertoire.

This and That

It's embarrassing how little I update these days.

I had such a big plan back in August to update more often and regularly. That has become impossible--or is it? Maybe I'm just lazy. Maybe I should manage my time better. Maybe--maybe--you'll never know.

I remembered earlier that one of the reasons this blog is important to me is that my blog entries are the only kind of notes I have on the books that I read. Many English majors like to write in their books, many actually write or type up notes and keep them in folders; I do neither of these things. I always think that I'm going to have to reread these books anyway if I'm ever going to do any work on them in the future, so why bother? Taking the time to do these things actually slows down the reading.

But the other side of my brain argues that perhaps it is important. It could be useful to remind myself of the impression I had on the book when I first read it, what I particularly liked or didn't like, etc. I have had some entries that I am really proud of, because I was really moved by the books and that made writing about them much easier and more fun. Unfortunately not all books move me in such a way.

I finished reading E.M. Forsters' "Passage to India" months ago, and have tried so many times to write about it. For some reason I just can't finish the entry, even though I enjoyed that one quite a bit. Maybe someday soon I will be able to.

Currently I'm taking a lot of time to read books about improvisation, since that is my new hobby/obsession. I probably won't be writing about them much since they don't really have much to do with my literature studies. But you never know.

Friday, March 5, 2010

"Henry V" by William Shakespeare

Not only did I not post my February Shakespeare entry on time, I didn't even finish reading the play until a few days into March. This is unacceptable, but at least I'm still keeping up with the reading-one-every-month thing, which is good. I'll try to be more on time this month.

I chose to read "Henry V," a history, and was quite impressed by it. While I found all the history plays so far to be dreadfully boring, this one turned out to be a lot of fun to read--very brief and entertaining. I was curious to learn more about Hal--my favorite character from the two Henry IV plays--as he becomes king in this one. The reckless young man that he was had turned out to be a valiant king, very decisive and persistent, both in the ways of war and love. The play chronicles the events of the Battle of Agincourt, and ends with his courtship of Princess Katherine of France.

It seems to me, perhaps because of my knowledge of and affection for the character from the Henry IV plays, that Hal, now known as King Henry, isn't completely a mature man that he appears to be. Within the kingly guise there still exists the young man who had needed his father's approval and tried to prove his mettle. The scene in which the disguised Henry is arguing with common soldiers, for example, shows his playfulness often seen in his youth.

I still didn't care for the comical moments that were supposed to offer a relief in the serious play, but here, due to their brevity, they didn't bother me so much. Falstaff, the major comic figure in the prequels, didn't make an appearance here, but his absence is strongly felt. It is a wonder why Shakespeare chooses to leave him out, although it is clear that his importance is very much on the Bard's mind. During the few times that Falstaff is mentioned, it is in relations to Henry's reckless behaviors in his youth. When his death is announced, it recalls the memory of the scene in "Henry IV Part II" in which Henry coldheartedly denies his friendship. I had hoped for a scene wherein Henry reflects on his past friendship with Falstaff or responds to the news of his death, but that never happened. Instead, the few mentions of the character are sufficient to recreate Falstaff as a tragic figure that haunts the story throughout. Being fond of the young Henry, I constantly felt the presence of his past self as well as his estranged friendship with Falstaff. I believe it was out of duty that he disowned his old friend, and that, while believing he was doing the right thing, he still felt the absence of his friend and his past, much like Charles Kane and Rosebud.

The play isn't as well constructed and dramatized as many others, but there is a certain pleasure new to me that derives from following Hal as he gets older. It makes reading these history plays a more meaningful experience than it would otherwise have been. Unfortunately, Hal will no longer make an appearance, as "Henry VI Part I" begins with his funeral. I want to recommend this play, because it is the first History that I actually enjoy, but I fear it wouldn't mean anything to those who haven't read the prequels. Therefore I will leave you with this: sometimes it takes efforts to reach a certain kind of pleasure. Read the plays, or do as you will.