Hamlet Review

I like the play, though I feel like it'd be more interesting if it was even more diverse in perspectives. It focuses on Hamlet, the titular character, though it does touch on others. I think if it didn't focus particularly on Hamlet at all, it would be better, as people like Ophelia and Claudious are very interesting and complex. Hamlet, meanwhile, doesn't speak to me as a particularly strong protagonist as he does quite a lot of harm.

I do like the psychological aspect of the play; the questioning of the reasonableness of living is interesting even if a bit nihilistic, and I liked our class discussion as to the fact that sadness is a good and important emotion. The portrayal of madness from different perspectives is also compelling, especially with Ophelia (who is also my favorite character in the play). Learning about the tradition of avenger stories and the Freudian analysis of hamlet was also eye opening and should be helpful in future analysis of literature.

Act 5 Laertes and Redemption

In general, I feel like the final scene of the play wherein everyone dies is a bit rushed. I'm not necessary surprised by this because the play needs to be concluded and a lot of people are still alive. I also feel like Laertes, as a character, was incredibly stupid to loose his sword and get stabbed via poison tip, but I can suspend disbelief.

However, I find Laertes motivation in telling Hamlet everything to be interesting. In doing so, I feel as if he has to accept the fact that his actions were wrong; but this seems to subvert the stereotypical avenger we thought Laertes was supposed to represent. If Hamlet killed his (Laertes') father, why does Laertes need to cleanse his soul by telling him the truth? Of course it gives Hamlet the knowledge he has to kill his father quickly; at the same time, it might offer a critique on the futility of revenge. The ending of the play solidifies this point even more, because in trying to carry out revenge, everyone does (which might be the most futile ending of all).

Hamlet, Madness, and the Death of a Parent

I really like the threads that connect characters together within the play. We talked about how Fortinbras and Hamlet (old and regular) parallel each other. I also find Ophelia works as an interesting parallel to Hamlet as well. Her father is killed by a member of the Danish Royal family, Hamlet (and Old Hamlet killed Old Fortinbras as well), which drives her insane and eventually leads her to die (I'm gonna go out on a limb and assume Hamlet dies at the end of this). However, despite the parallel she presents to Hamlet and Fortinbras, she lacks the ability to pursue action or agency within the story (I attribute this to the fact that she is a woman, and thus her pursuit of agency is restricted but the male characters). Instead, it is Laertes who pursues vengeance, though he doesn't suffer from madness and is able to use physical violence (through the duel) to enact his revenge. Ophelia must pursue a different kind of violence (against herself via suicide) to try to influence the world around her in a anyway, which is unfortunate because I think she's a really interesting character (personally my favorite).

Hamlet and Regret/Redemption (or lack thereof)

One particular aspect of Hamlet I find interesting is the coupling of vengeance with regret. Hamlet is obviously built up as the protagonist and he seeks vengeance for his father. However, his uncle, against who whom he seeks vengeance, doesn't seem particularly bad. He is seems to be an acceptable King, which Hamlet's father might not have been; he is in purgatory, which can mean he lived a moderately sinful life that wasn't good enough for him to go to heaven (though it's possible his presence in purgatory is the result of his unfinished business on earth, it is described as a fiery purgatory in which his sins are burned away). Claudius wants redemption for his sins, which is why he tries to pray in Act 3. The fact that he fails at praying and thus doesn't feel redeemed is also interesting because it reflects the lack of redemption he receives from the audience, who always side with Hamlet. This is despite the fact that Hamlet also kills people (Polonious and indirectly Ophelia so far).

The Dead Question

I'm curious as to why opera, singing, and music play so heavily in the story; why opera and not painting or something else? And I have some ideas about the answer.

The idea of culture plays into the critique of the upper class, and culture is best depicted by the arts as opposed to the sciences (which are rather subjective and would probably be considered dull or uninteresting by the decadent rich who must be entertained). Music, and singing especially, work because they are much more universal. Even the poor can sing (though the opera is a distinctly rich persons past time, at least during this period), which allows Gretta's old love to be brought into the story.

The Dead Response

I think The Dead was interesting but I'm not sure my interest in it and my interpretation is the intended one. I have preconceived notions about the story because I'm fairly certain that the passage about the feast was mentioned in How to Read Literature like a Professor. As a result, I've interpreted the entire story as a critique of the excesses of the rich. Of their triviality and their complete ignorance of the suffering of the little. I think Gretta's lost love might act as evidence for this critique because he, having worked in the gasworks, was probably poor. Despite Gabriel's fear of his speech, which alluded to esoteric poetry, insulting the less educated at the party, he even admits to have never felt the kind of love the poor boy from Galway ever felt, thus implying that the wealthy and the educated, for all their talk of being better, their pretentions to superiority, are emotionally stunted.

The Dead word

Palaver

Response As I Lay Dying looking back

I think considering what we've read so far the book takes on more religious symbolism and irony (considering that so many of the characters are horrible people... Actually no, just Anse and to a lesser degree Addie and Whitefield). Cash has always seemed vaguely like a Christ figure since the beginning. He's a carpenter and his name sounds similar, but in following his father's orders he is in this case nearly killed on the river (Hey! He falls in and gets symbolically baptized, because every time someone gets wet it's a baptism!). He almost dies for Anse's stupidity/recklessness/idiocy/selfishness/insert angry adjective et all, in the same way Jesus died for mortal sin; the irony comes from the fact that Anse remains an unrepentantly sinful individual he keeps, screwing everything up and proceeds to top of the sins with vanity (his new teeth) and lust (his new wife).

Another ironic religious metaphor I find interesting is that of Addie and Anse, who I've always likened a bit to Adam and Eve but now think the likeness is even more so knowing Addie's... personal indiscretions. She, as Eve, accepts the "forbidden fruit" (wink wink) from a servant of God who has now fallen into sin (fallen Angel). She suffers for this action (she has more children and ultimately dies) and her actions arguably spawn her husbands sinful actions as well (this hellish journey is inspired by the death). The irony comes from the fact that Addie and Anse could act as a stand in or representation for all families, rendering the familial unit, which is so often declared the basis of morality and Christian value etc... sinful and corrupted. Oh Faulkner, what sweet irony. Irony that is augmented and made even more obvious by the fact that the Addie-Whitefield affair is a modernist re-telling of the Scarlet Letter.

Response to As I Lay Dying ending

I hate Anse. He gets one son nearly killed, twice, steals the other one's horse (the one he demanded he'd never have to worry about feeding), throws one in an asylum (I guess this isn't completely his fault, but I am angry and he could have tried to stop it), and steals his daughter's abortion money. The only child he hasn't egregiously wronged is Vardaman, who doesn't even understand the concept of death yet (I feel it difficult to wrong someone who does not understand death, though as a self described understander of death I am slightly biased). And it seems by the end of this hair brained family ruining quest of theirs his primary motivation was getting new teeth and a wife. He even lectures his children on how his lack of teeth makes him morally better than them. It amazes me especially because Anse simultaneously seems so ditzy and moronic and absent minded (who the hell sets their sons leg with concrete when they could have just left him early on the journey? My god he literally could be of no assistance and the notion of funeral attendance on his part seems unnecessary considering she's been dead for days) that I wouldn't think him capable of actively being a horrible person but he is. He's like a spoiled, entitled child who does something forgivable and then just looks away instead of looking his parents in the eye (except in this analogy, the roles are reversed and his children are the ones he wrongs and cannot look at). He insists on self reliance and then proceeds to probably functionally bankrupt his family while relying on the non-consenting sale of his sons own property (I mentioned this but I think this made me angriest so I'm mentioning it a second time). If Faulkner set out to reveal the brokenness of the family he succeeded. Anse is the patriarch that a desperately hope the children band together to kill on the way back home.

As I Lay Dying Commentary pages 84-176

So I was reading one of the sections from Darl's perspective when he talks about Jewel being out late and sleeping during the day because he's having sex with someone. Then at the end of that section I see Darl say he realized what happened with Dewey Dell. Is this another example of Faulknerian incest? Are they having sex with each other because I'm pretty sure they are.

In this case, I have some ideas about what the incest represents. In the Sound and the Fury, the Caddie/Quentin vaguely incestuous relationship was representative of the decline of the Southern Aristocracy. Addie's children are very obviously not the Southern Aristocracy; instead, perhaps the Jewel-y Dell incest is the opposite. It could represent the insularity of rural communities, especially poor rural communities. They as a group stay rooted in the past and do not work towards growth or mixing with those they consider to be other "other".

Word from As I Lay Dying

Flotsam

As I Lay Dying Content (First post)

As I Lay Dying follows a rural family (it seems most of the characters are members of the Burden family anyway; I believe we hear from the perspective of the Tulls) immediately before and in the wake of the death of the mother, Addie Burden. I'm a little bit confused about some of the characters;
I think that Cora is Ms. Tull and that her and her husband are family friends. I think Cora acts as an interesting narrator because she seems to be a very morally righteous but also kind person. I believe that Vardaman, the little boy, is also Vernon. I would also like to see more about the past of the family which I'm a bit afraid may not be delved into as much if the story sticks to just narrating the events after Addie's death; I believe Cora talked about Anse (Addie's husband) being morally degenerate in some way (she described Vernon's appearance as revealing the hand of God on Anse) and I would like to see where this conflict comes from.

I would also like to see more to differentiate Darl and the other brothers. Cora describes him as being more soft, loving, tender, etc... but I feel as if what I have read hasn't really made him seem terribly different from the others. I believe she also described Cash as having been the child who got spoiled and turned out badly because of it (I feel like it was Cash who she described this as...), and would like to see more evidence of this too. The problem is that Faulkner's writing seems to primarily be made up of dialogue or unbiased imagery of the scenes; despite the fact that the chapters are from the first person perspective for different characters, the result is that we get very little intent or emotional feeling from what is going on. Other than dialogue either saying bad things about people or dialogue that is obviously emotionally charge, we get little context by which we can judge individuals. I would say the exception to this is Cora, who seems more likely to think judgmentally in her chapters.

I also don't really know who Jewel, Dewey, or Peabody are and I don't know where to fit them in the greater context of the story...

I also keep seeing the fish motif coming back, and am curious if this fits in with any religious themes the book will deal with (death is often a religious topic, Cora seems religious, and I believe Jesus created extra food out of fish to feed the hungry; I feel as though Addie's character wills steadily take on more Jesus-y tones as the story progresses, but we'll have to see. I think Vardaman's one sentence chapter "My mother is a fish" might be influencing my opinions a little more than it should).

As I Lay Dying Faulkner Writing Style

The writing style of As I Lay Dying is still a bit convoluted and difficult to understand, though not nearly as difficult as The Sound and the Fury. At least in As I Lay Dying, everything seems to be happening more or less chronologically and no characters have a non-linear perception of time (we're looking at you Benjy). The root of this difficulty in reading is not based on plot confusion or time, but in the way in which the characters speak (both to other people and to themselves via thoughts). They all sound very rural and at times a bit uneducated (not necessarily unintelligent, but many of the characters often don't abide by grammar rules that they would have been taught in school). This is obviously intentional and Faulkner's part and is meant to inform the characterization and setting. Despite the difficulty in reading the text at times (it never is unreadable, but one can't skim AILD and still know what's going on), it often has a poetic feel to it; this poetry comes more from imagery than from excessively flowery language.

One thing I find especially interesting about Faulkner's writing style is that, while all the characters retain some of the flawed grammar and rural language, there are modifications made to individual chapters to further inform characters as unique people. For instance, Darl seems to have by far the most poetic and least flawed way of speaking and thinking of all the character's whose perspectives we see from; this adds to the description other characters make of him that he is kind, loving, and more tender than most men are while not explicitly saying it. This modification of individual character voices works at times more subtly but often more effectively than anything else.

The Things They Carried Star in His Eye

One of my favorite scenes/stories in the book is "The Man I Killed". I like it especially because O'Brien masterfully uses repetition. He keeps in reiterating the wounds he inflicted and, thus, the manner he killed the many. More specifically, he mentions many times the star shaped hole in his eye and the fact that his throat is in his neck (though the throat in the neck is mentioned a little bit less; the focus is on the eye). His continuous use of this statement combined with Kiowa's questions/comments that are met only with silence gives off the impression that O'Brien is broken. It's heartbreaking and I would say probably one of the saddest parts of the book, with the exception of the baby water buffalo which was completely massacred. I think the choice of the phrase "star-shaped" is especially interesting because it, in and of itself, is not threatening or dark. It's almost whimsical, and O'Brien's use of the phrase adds to the feeling that he is in some sort of trance-like state, and that he is lost in himself. The mention of the star-shaped hole in other stories also functions to connect everything a little bit better. Perhaps the connotations stars have as being heavenly bodies and connected to some sort of afterlife also provides some deeper symbolic meanings as well.

The Things They Carried Question Post

Why does he mention Linda, and is she real?

I don't think Linda is, per se, a real person. I think it's possible that Tim O'Brien dated a girl in elementary school who died, though it isn't necessarily true. I think she is more meant to be a device to tie back the idea of story telling to something more personal and tangible; the notion that stories can bring back the dead creates a universality to the act. Few of us have been to war, have lost people, friends, in battle. Few of us need to tell stories about lost comrades in arms to bring them back. But most of us have lost people at some point, and many of us do tell stories about them. We don't necessarily tell stories for the purpose of resurrecting them momentarily, but it is an unintended effect none the less. The notion that someone isn't truly dead until they are forgotten is quite popular (or at least, I have heard the thought often and ten to agree).

I also think Linda is useful as a plot device because, not only is she dead and his story telling brings her back to life for him, but her connection to his childhood also calls forth the notion of innocence once again. The entire book seems quite focused on the idea of innocence and the loss of it; Linda's story is a bit of a happy contrast. Perhaps Timmy, the innocent, is dead; but by recalling him, by writing and telling stories about him, O'Brien brings him back to life. He resurrects his own innocents in a manner that helps him recover from the horrors he saw and was forced to see and do in the war.

Mary Anne Bell and the Loss of Innocence

Before I start, I will say that I'm not sure if this fell within the section of the book we were supposed to read for this post or if it was later; personally this is my favorite story and I have been itching to write about it since reading it, and I can't wait any longer. So, here we go.

Is Mary Anne Bell a symbol, and if so, what does she represent? What was the point of her story?

Her story is probably the most concrete symbol in regards to the loss of innocence, which is a topic that has repeatedly come up probably more than anything else in our discussion of the novel.

She comes in as a green girl, young, with now idea about what things are like (eventually, she goes from being a green, naïve girl to a member of the green berets, a "greenie"). She sees the village, she learns how to help with the saving of troops rushed in, she goes from being soft to being more of a soldier than arguably any of the other medics. This, of course, represents an obvious example of the transformation. However, there are other facets of her that reveal the loss or the twisting of her humanity. The loss is most obvious in the fact that she altogether disappears; she becomes one with the land, a ghost, more like an animal than a human being. But the twisting is rather more interesting. She sings to the "greenies" in their hooch, to songs in a foreign language in a haunting, ghostly atmosphere, a twist in the normal trope of the bright eyed and bushy-tailed performer/starlet. She wears a necklace made of human tongues (whereas jewelry normally represents a wealth, a refined, cultured status, it is the obvious here that is not the case); I find the fact that they are tongues to be important because it is the opposite of Jimmy Cross' love interest. She is a poet, who uses words to create art. Mary Anne takes the anatomical bits that create poetry and turns them into a war trophy.
Lastly, the period when she first goes away for a few days and comes back and her fiancé tries to make everything normal again. Everything looks perfect but there is something tense and fractured about it, and nothing is alright below the surface. It is like when someone first comes home from war, trying to assimilate with normal humanity, but the feat is impossible.

The Things They Carried Blogpost on the First Four Stories

What is the significance of the way in which the third short story, Spin, is written?

Spin is interesting because, unlike the rest of the short stories in the novel, it is pretty much completely cut into chunks that only measure into paragraphs (some small, some large) that contain little anecdotes on the war that would themselves probably not warrant a greater story attached to them (this is except for the end story, which is about when O'Brien first killed a man, and a story later expands upon this). I think one reason why this was done this way because it's like a second beginning to the story. The Things They Carried has a duel focus on both all the men in Alpha Company and more specifically on Jimmy Cross; love, the second story, is focused on Jimmy Cross. Spin, the third story, begins the part of the book that focuses moderately evenly on all the other members of Alpha Company (at least to a point). It works by creating a web of events and happenings which the reader can then use for context when reading about other characters in later stories. It also gives off a disjointed feel as if you're jumping back and forth through time (which in a sense you are), which might help the leader start to loose themselves in the story, combining with the numbness that the first story provokes to create a more accurate feeling of what war was.

The Symbolic Significance of the Golden Slipper Ashtray in Unaccustumed Earth

    The ashtray in question belonged to Ruma's father while he smoked. He had kept the habit up for a number of years despite Ruma's fears and protests. Eventually, he did stop smoking, and in doing so, got rid of all his ashtrays. Ruma, however, kept the Golden Slipper ashtray for herself, using it as a toy.
     The ashtray is significant because it acts as a symbol for her father himself. Ruma's relationship with her father wasn't particularly close, and she often felt as if she could never achieve enough to suit him, and before he takes care of Akash she fears he might be a burden. Both of these facts are evidence that her father's existence was, among other things, distressing to her (like the his habit of smoking was distressing to her as a child). However, when he arrives and is revealed to be a kind, helpful, comforting presence (alternatively, when he stops smoking and is perceived as young Ruma as no longer threatened by his habit), she takes to him and wants him around, to love with them (she starts playing with the golden ashtray and considers it a prized possession).

Family Conflict in Unaccustomed Earth

     The nearly the entirety of Unaccustomed Earth centers around family conflict. This conflict is, in turn, centered around topics that are at points universal and at other times uniquely related to Bengali heritage. It is where these two paths intersect that the book becomes interesting and informative for an audience primarily made up of people that are not Bengali (understanding foreign customs, cultures, and family lives different from our own is often why we read). The diversity of family life Lahiri portrays and the importance she infuses even seemingly mundane events with makes it such a compelling work.
     Personally, my favorite story is the one from the perspective of Sudha as she deals with her brother Rahul. Her care and worry for her brother, whom she feels personally responsible for and for whose alcoholism she partially feels responsible, is heartwarming and deeply haunting. Her feelings might be influenced by her Bengali parent's encouragement of her to watch out for her brother and for the two of them to succeed, but anyone with a sibling can relate, no matter their ethnicity. Her conflict with her brother grows and grows over the course of the story until they seemingly reconcile and he goes to England. It is then, however, that he falls of the wagon and puts Sudha and Adam's child in danger, permanently severing any chance Sudha and Rahul have of really becoming close again. I like this story so much because of it's distinctly unhappy ending; it seems often times family stories conclude with the "prodigal son returning", but in the real world this often doesn't happen.
     The first section, between Ruma, her father, and Akash, was also interesting, but it felt as if Ruma was frustratingly passive in regards to her surroundings at time. I understand her relationship with her father was estranged and that she always was closer to her mother, but I still feel as if she could have fought harder for what she wanted. Part of loving your family is fighting for them, and Ruma didn't seem to do much fighting.
     Overall, the family dynamics in all of the stories seem incredibly reserved. There is very little overt argument, yelling, screaming, etc... The family conflict is largely insidious and quiet. The relationships between siblings, spouses, children/parents (or stand ins for these relationships, especially in the story of Pranab) often sour at some point and the air of the pretty much all the stories are melancholy or nostalgic. I can relate to this type of conflict to an extent because arguments within my family aren't usually passionate, but this almost completely lack of open conflict is still a bit bizarre, and only feeds itself because, when emotions aren't aired out, there's no way to get over them, and frustration just builds up.

Mentoring in 100 Years of Solitude

      One of the most interesting characters in 100 Years of Solitude is, I believe, Melquiades, a member of a wandering band of gypsies who appears very early on in the story and teaches alchemy to José Arcadio Buendía and many other members of the Buendía line. His personal history is not the plot of the novel, but he is very well traveled and incredibly learned, having sailed across the globe. At one point he dies but comes back to life, only to later die again and return as a ghost to teach some of the last members of the Buendía line.
      I think this spectral presence is unique because, though he is not in the physical realm, he appears to have the greatest affect, at least on some members of the family, in this state. He teaches the last member of the family, Aureliano Segundo, as a ghost, and arguably he is his most successful pupil, having been able to decode the manuscript which detailed his complicated family history only moments before being destroyed by a hurricane. I was actually struck by how spectral mentorship might represent a great opportunity as a literary advice as the dead have all the experiences they gained during their life from which to offer advice. However, I find it difficult to think of many examples of this trope being used (though I'm sure it is used at least some time, I haven't come across it much in my readings). Some that stick out to me are Hamlet's father (who is somewhat of a mentor figure, at least insofar as he warns him of his uncle, which can be considered a kind of advice) as well as the ghost parents in Neil Gaiman's the graveyard book (though I would argue the vampire, Silas, is really the mentor in the story). I'd actually say the best example I'm aware of, in terms of dead mentors communing from the void, would be not in literature but in film; Obi Wan Kenobi from the Star Wars franchise, who manages to return as a "force ghost" to talk to Luke about his personal history.
      At the same time, Melquiades fulfills another trope as the wise old man, and his Roma heritage also offers an interesting permutation on this idea (with possible magical connotations applied to this group, his alchemical credentials seem more refined). However, I'd say his return from the dead, subsequent second death, and then his return as a ghost are by far what make him such an interesting character, and teacher, to have.

Symbolism in 100 Years of Solitude

    100 Years of Solitude, as a piece of literature within the magical realist latin american tradition, is a very surreal work. It features some of the strangest events, some of which might be almost within the realm of possibility (for instance, children born with pig tails or being carried away by ants) and others that completely defy reality (for example, mentally handicapped girls floating into the sky or a phantom gypsy that teaches small children alchemy). However, though these events are themselves strange and create an interesting narrative, it is difficult to believe that, as talented a writer as Gabriel García Marquéz, they are not meant to represent anything more. Especially after reading more about symbolism in literature prior to this course, I decided to go back and exam 100 Years from a more critical perspective.
    It is impossible to discuss all the strange little occurrences in the book. However, the biggest examples of symbolism within the story are probably the Buendía family and the town of Macondo. Both are, in themselves, symbolic of humanity (or any one people) and civilization (or any given society) respectively. One can see this in the way the story progresses. Macondo is founded by the Buendía's more or less, who begin exploring and building up their little village. Ursula is very industrious and establishes businesses and a very nice household in which to raise her children, and grandchildren, and great-grandchildren (she dies a very, very old woman). With her help and the help of other members of the Buendía family, Macondo reaches a golden age. This can, in many ways, represent a golden age of humanity, where the Macondo's more or less "reign" powerfully (they aren't exactly rulers, but they are held in high esteem). However, from the beginning their are cracks; the first male in the line,  José Arcadio Buendía, ends up insane and tied to a tree and remains largely ignored after that. With time, more and more problems begin to plague the society. War breaks out, a war which by its ending is empty and meaningless. Their is a plague where no one sleeps (perhaps a commentary of the arguably excessive industriousness of modern society). Foreigners come in to establish a banana company (a yes, good old fashioned imperialism) which results in a kind of racial segregation among the town's residence and concludes with the murder of three thousand civilians (which is covered up by the government...). By the end of the novel, a four year long rainstorm has washed away the remnants of that corpocratic oligarchy (I'm sorry, I just really wanted to use that expression) and left only a few residents in the barebones of that which was once a thriving little town, perhaps as a symbol of natural disasters or time washing away human power and dignity. What remains is decadent decay (featuring a very weird house of prostitution filled with exotic animals and colorfully glad women and run by a 100 year old matron) and the final members of a once great lineage; the last member of this great line, Aureliano III, is only an infant when he is carried away and eaten by ants because his father fails to watch over him in his grief after his aunt/wife, Amaranta Úrusula, dies from childbirth (fitting, that the last of mankind is consumed by insects).
    The book is filled with innumerable other happenings that are filled with some possible symbolic nature. The murder of every one of the general Buendía's sons (each of which has a ashen cross on his forehead) could represent the unfortunate eventuality whereby human conflict destroys even the most remote vestiges of authentic religious belief). Perhaps the fact that Macondo is destroyed as soon as Aureliano II decodes the manuscript which tells the future of the Buendía line (which ends with Macondo's destruction via hurricane) represents the pointlessness of human endeavors as death gets us all in the end. All of these things could represent any number of possibilities, all open to the interpretation of the reader. That is why 100 Years is, and remains, such an interesting story to read.

Setting in Unaccustomed Earth

        Unaccustomed Earth, though it jumps between stories and people, has, as a result, multiple settings during different narratives. The various people live or are present in, at various points in the story, in Boston, Seattle, New York, the greater New England Area, England, Italy, India (New Delhi or Calcutta), and Thailand. The story itself doesn't differentiate greatly in how the settings are treated amongst the different American cities or towns. They are used, in general, as a juxtaposition between the cultures of Indian and America which are held against each other between the different generations (those who came to America and those who were born here). India, on the other hand, is often a place the older relatives go back to or the families go back to for various periods of time. It is the original culture, and often represents an internal crisis for those children of Indian parents who were born in America.
        There also remains England and Italy. England is interesting because it also represents a disconnection from the family, but is less cultural and rather a more general growing apart. Italy also represents a shift in tone, becoming less a familial story so much as a love story which has a dreamlike, unreal quality because the lovers in question are taking a break from their lives, in a state of limbo.

Post 1: Villiany in 100 Years of Solitude

     100 Years of Solitude is an interesting novel because, though it does represent an impossible narrative (being in the genre of magical realism), it does not present much in the way of an archetypical villain or antagonist figure, or at least not any of great importance.
     There are some characters or groups definitely meant to be disliked. There are many instances where the conservative regime/government that claims jurisdiction over Macondo is considered to be evil. At one point, Jose Arcadio III ends up ruling Macondo in a dictatorial fashion during the civil war (when he is entrusted with the town by Colonel Aureliano Buendía, who goes off to war), but he is eventually gotten rid off. At another point, the President of the Banana Company (closer to the end of the book) is cast as a villain, as he takes advantage of the town and establishes terrible conditions for the workers (leading to a strike which ultimately results in the deaths of two thousand protestors).
     However, the main "villain" of the novel seems to be time, and the inevitable, decaying factor that results from it. Of course, Macondo starts out as a small town established by the Buendía family and other people who wander across the mountains. It starts off small, but eventually grows and for is a time quite successful and vibrant. However, by the end of the book, the town has lost its wealth and is ultimately wiped off of the face of this Earth. Though time or death is never really characterized within the narrative, it is rather obvious that the entropy, the degeneration of the Macondo line, is a tragedy. It is one of the most melancholy parts of the book, made even worse by the slow, agonizing skid the town makes into nothingness. The saddest part of the book is the end of the Buendía family, and the only thing responsible for it is time and the gradual wearing away of things it brings.