Yehuda Amichai: Stages of Life

           Yehuda Amichai’s work is filled with sentiments and ideas that appeal to a wide range of people. His work, “God Has Pity on Kindergarten Children,” is no exception. Within the multilayered work he references the stages of life, their relative ease/difficulty, as well as the religious and secular tones that go along with those stages of life. He also cleverly uses punctuation to help further convey the point of his utterances.

            The stages of life referenced in the work are childhood, the adolescent period, and adulthood. Each of these stages has its own level of pity from God. In childhood God has the most pity. This can be taken literally, for those of a religious disposition, or metaphorically. If taken as the latter childhood represent a naïve time of existence. Everything under the sun is new, exciting, and stimulating. The body grows stronger every day and one’s capacity to learn appears to be limitless. Children have a chance to craft their own destiny and only an act of God can stop them. It’s important to note that the line corresponding with this sentiment ends in a hard stop. Using such punctuation makes it appear as a cold hard fact. As we will see later this is not the case for all stages. It also depicts that Childhood has a defined beginning and endpoint. This endpoint leads into the next stage, adolescence.

            The second stage is adolescence. This too ends in a hard stop signifying a fact and a determined period of time. But, it is also a bit less optimistic about the chance of pity from God. The text states, “He has less pity on schoolchildren” (Amichai ln. 2). This is in part due to the nature of humankind. As we grow older we advance in thought and in body. The world isn’t as fresh as it once was and our fascination with God’s creation begins to take on a jaded hue. The hearts and minds of people are introduced to some of the cold truths of existence and the world no longer seems the perfect place it did when one was a child. The end of this line leads into the brutal realities of adulthood.

            Finally the subject of adulthood it broached. The lines here become longer, adding more information and insight into God having no pity on adults. The hard stop gives way to commas allowing the journey to continue on with only brief respites from the difficulty to be faced in the adult world. Although there is much horror in the world there still remains a glimmer of hope. When referencing this brief times of relief (primarily through love or by reaching old age) there is a lack of stops signifying the fleeting nature of such experience. It also shows how time will continue on like a stone rolling down a steep hill.

            Finally, Amichai’s speaker notes that the power for compassion resides in all of us. He uses only one soft stop in the final stanza giving the reader a moment to pause before the grand message of the poem is laid out. That message is that even if God shows no pity we still harbor the ability to show compassion toward one another through all stages of life.

Works Cited

Amichai, Yehuda. “God Has Pity on Kindergarten Children”. The Norton Anthology of World        Literature: Shorter Third Edition, Two- Volume Set. W.W. Norton. Ed. M Puchner. 2012. 1620-1621. Print.

Existence's Bandages in Lispector's "The Daydreams of a Drunk Woman"

        Clarice Lispector’s work “The Daydreams of a Drunk Woman” is fraught with strings of thoughts relating to the meaning of various states of existence. One of the most prominent themes of these questions relate to what it means to be a woman unable to fully delve into, or fully understand, their problems.  The questions that arise from this dilemma are partially answered by other questions. Which in turn spawns other questions leading both the narrator and the reader further into an existential rabbit hole. The most interesting facet of these questions is that they are never directly addressed. Rather, they are stated matter-of-factly giving the impression that the narrator isn’t overly concerned with solving their dilemma. To put it into a metaphor the narrator prefers to place bandages on top of other previous bandages instead of trying to sew the wound shut so it can heal. In the end nothing is ever answered and all that remains is a large pile of bandages over an open scab of bleeding, pus ridden thought.

                Throughout the work the narrator is continuously trying to understand herself, her actions, and what the combination of the two creates. One of her usual methods of attempting to understand herself this is through self-dialogue. Early in the work, laying stomach down on the bed, she states, “‘Whosoever found, searched,’ she said to herself in the form of a rhymed refrain, which always ended up by sounding like some maxim” (Lispector 1556).  The inclusion of “which always” allows the reader to know this isn’t a onetime occurrence. Rather than continuing to ponder this line of thinking she decides sleep is a better option. She puts off this exploration of self, places the bandage of sleep over it and drifts off into unconsciousness.

                Later in the work we see her remove the bandages with alcohol. After imbibing some alcoholic beverages she explores the surrounding restaurant with a drunkard’s keen gaze. During her exploring she imagines herself more full of something. What that is isn’t directly relayed but her thoughts speak of being somewhat superior to everyone else in the establishment. The text writes, “she peered around the room, and how she despised the barren people in that restaurant, while she was plump and heavy and generous to the full” (1558). Among all of them it is only her that has some fantastic insight into the inner workings of the world.  

Through the medium of intoxication she is capable of digging deeper into her self-exploration and the exploration of the human experience. The alcohol works as a tool to escape, if ever so briefly, from the limited realm of experience in which she usually lives. The texts writes, “And everything in the restaurant seemed so remote, the one thing distant from the other, as if the one might never be able to converse with the other. Each existing for itself, and God existing there for everyone” (1558). In this moment she seems to nearly find an answer to all of her questions. Then the tentacles of human life wrap themselves around the narrator once more, pulling her back into her box of reality. It’s through viewing another woman that she returns back into the normal mode of thought.

She becomes jealous and angry toward woman with her boyfriend, not realizing that it is her own self that she is angry with. It has nothing to do with the “pious ninny so pleased with herself in that hat and so modest about her slim waistline” (1559). The narrator finds strength in her ability to have given birth to a child, and that her apparent curvy figure is indicative of pleasure. Nonetheless the narrator wanders through the rest of the text unable to rip off all the bandages and sew the wound shut.

Works Cited

Lispector, Clarice. “The Daydreams of a Drunk Woman”. The Norton Anthology of World Literature: Shorter Third Edition, Two- Volume Set. W.W. Norton. Ed. M Puchner. 2012. 1555-1560. Print.

Neruda: Viewing Life from Another Perspective

       Pablo Neruda’s work “Walking Around” depicts the intimate closeness of material objects and the new and exciting modern forms of entertainments as negative aspects detracting from a “real” existence. The dense nature of modern life, the objects that fill the once empty or natural spaces, and entertainment available have sucked the life out of those who inhabit this city. What’s left behind is a cold, depressing, place inhabited by beings living a lesser form of life. If this written work were a painting it would be ashy grey, various shades of darker blue pieced by yellow moments of artistic genius. It is a work that simultaneously states the thoughts and positions of mankind in the modernist world and the undeniable notion that something different has happened to the natural state of human affairs. Only through escape from “normal” human existence can one be rid of the terrible conditions presented.

Material goods have always been used to help people show their association or disassociation with various groups and ideas. From ancient rings of iron and sea shells for ornamentation, to huge powdered French hair, to baggy jeans, to an Italian made sports car, each are material goods that help people to determine where in society they think they are. Also, this may help others determine where these people are along the social or financial ladders as well. Extending this notion from an individual to a macroscopic scale is also possible. For cities or nations with movie theaters, tanks, planes, elevators, and huge shopping stores look much more appealing than a hut in the dessert. Yet Neruda realized that facades are no indication of what lies inside of something. The shiny lights, the exciting distractions, and the purchasing power may appear appealing from the outside but the poems speaker tells part of the story from another side. A darker side that hides just behind the façade of the modern world.

       Neruda plays on the human tendency to judge by an objects surface value when describing his view of the city. The poems speaker relays their dislike of the modern world in the very first line of the work stating, “It happens that I am tired of being a man” (Neruda ln. 1). The speaker’s disdain really picks up in the second stanza of the work. While in the first stanza the speaker merely dips their toes in the loathsome state of the city, in the second they jump right in. Neruda writes,

         The smell of barber shops makes me sob out loud.
         I want nothing but the repose either of stones or of wool,
         I want to see no more establishments, no more gardens,
         Nor merchandise, nor glasses, nor elevators. (Neruda lns. 5-8)

It is these things, material things and modernist ideas that make us “human or civilized.” Yet the speaker has a disdain for them. In some unspoken way they are tearing out the soul of the animal that is man; leaving them less human. These objects civilizing-nature brings the speaker great anguish. So much pain that they wish to exit the existence of the human condition. It’s only the old ways of “stone or of wool” that can bring some modicum of comfort to the narrator’s mind (Neruda ln. 6). The poem’s speaker once more writes, “It happens that I am tired of being a man” (Neruda ln.11).  The speaker continues on with the disparate state of life in the city.

The juxtaposition of material goods and emotions displays how such things have come to take on emotional tendencies of their own. Much like contemporary television advertisements trying to associates their products with positive emotions Neruda’s imagery associates such objects with negativity. The last two stanza’s of the work exhibit this in poignant ways. Images of death, decay, grotesqueness, are placed on top of normal everyday things. For example the references to birds, intestines, doors, teeth, houses, coffee pot, umbrellas, navels, and poisons are all included in a one stanza frame. Taken by themselves they aren’t particularly interesting or grotesque but when combined with the speaker’s disposition they become something altogether different. The stanza reads as follows:

         There are birds the colour of Sulphur, and horrible intestines
         hanging from the doors of the houses which I hate,
         there are forgotten sets of teeth in a coffee-pot,
         there are mirrors
         which should have wept with shame and horror,
         there are umbrellas all over the place, and poisons, and navels. (Neruda lns. 34-39).

The speaker describes the horror and “truth” that lay behind each of these objects. Inside of each one a tiny piece of humanity digs in and dies there. No longer are things simple objects but objects only in relation to the minds in which they are viewed. Like many modernist wordsmiths Neruda is able to capture the subjective nature of existence through a discontented speaker. Objects are reflected in opposition to how they are presented in a “normal” content view of things. It is through the lens of the speaker that the image of the modern city becomes more rounded and understandable. This is where one facet of Neruda’s poetic genius lies, in the ability to show another side of the everyday experience.

Works Cited
Neruda, Pablo. “Walking Around”. The Norton Anthology of World Literature: Shorter Third Edition, Two- Volume Set. W.W. Norton. Ed. M Puchner. 2012. 1423-1424. Print.

Gender, the "Other", and Desire in "The Rod of Justice"

           The Interactions between the sexes is a well-studied field giving insights into the worlds of fiction and reality. Through the artful writings of wordsmiths real-world truths are conjured and entombed in works of fiction. Joaquim Maria Machado De Assis’s work, “The Rod of Justice”, gives insight into the power-plays of male and female characters all acting to benefit themselves in a way suitable to their given desires. These benefits are kept in the foreground while the wills of other, in so long as they don’t help achieve these goals, are framed as ominous or insignificant “Others”. In order to fully grasp the inner mechanisms of gender and sexuality at play their definitions must first be established. To aid in establishing the definition and context thoughts of Judith Butler and Simone de Beauvoir prove useful.

            Judith Butler in her groundbreaking work, Gender Trouble, helps to establish “woman” as a form of “Other”; an unknown entity in which comparisons to the reigning group can be made. Butler writes, “Far from being subjects, women are, variously, the Other, a mysterious and unknowable lack, a sign of the forbidden and irrecoverable maternal body, of some unsavory mixture of the above” (Butler 202). Not being a subject of their own women take on a mysterious yet hollow presence in literature (and historically the social consciousness). Characters such as Lucretia exhibit this trait in “The Rod of Justice”. Eleven year old Lucretia is described as being, “a little Negress, a frail wisp of a thing with a scar on her forehead and a burn on her left hand” (Assis 913). We gleam little else from the text other than she has a cough, is fearful of her mistress, and wishes no bodily harm comes to her. Her thoughts, hopes, dreams, and anything else helping to create an identity for her are nonexistent.

            Her only interaction with the text is when Damião makes her laugh, which ends in a threat from Sinhá Rita, and in the final scene, where she is about to be beaten for not completing her task. In desperation she calls for the aid of Damião shouting, “Help me sweet young master!” (Assis 916). Though in this moment we find Damião’s earlier vow to protect her less valuable to him than his freedom from the clergy. In this instance the power shifts from his will to protect this frail young girl to saving himself by giving Sinhá Rita the power to bring harm. Lucretia manifests the poor repressed model of all oppressed women; those oppressed by both men and by other women.

            Simone De Beauvoir extends the idea of “Otherness” from just women to many other marginalized groups; albeit her focus is quite often solely on the role of women as “Other”. In her work, The Second Sex, Beauvoir covers the idea of “Other” in its relationship between the sexes. In the introduction of the work she writes, “Otherness is a fundamental category of human thought. Thus it is that no group ever sets itself up as the One without at once setting up the Other over against itself” (Beauvoir 151). This notion of the “Other” as battling both for and against itself can be seen in the character of Sinhá Rita. She battles for Damião in order to see her power over man at work. Yet, she brings harm to womankind by beating other women who she deems inferior to herself. Her power lies in her status as a widow (who likely inherited the power and wealth of her late husband), her ability to charm and domineer her lover (João Carneiro), and her status as “mistress of all this womenfolk—slaves of her own household and from outside” (Assis 915). She has a foot in both the world of women and that of the world of men.

The apex moment of her power comes near the conclusion of the text when she replies to João Carneiro’s letter stating, “Joãozinho, either you rescue the boy, or we never see each other again” (Assis 916). Here we witness the defeat of man through sexuality. She knows in her mind and heart that João Carneiro will do all he can to secure the boys freedom. Even Damião, fearing for his own freedom from the clergy adheres to her power disregarding his previous vow.

            Another connection between “The Rod of Justice” and Beauvoir’s The Second Sex can be found in Chapter XI: Myth and Reality. The text relays the position of man in comparison to that of women stating that, “Each is subject only for himself; each can grasp in immanence only himself, alone: from this point of view the other is always a mystery” (Beauvoir 1268). Damião represents this portion of “Otherness” particularly well. He is only really concerned with being able to leave the clergy. Outside of his own desire those of others only come into play when they may hinder his own goal. The thoughts and wishes of his father, his godfather, and Sinhá Rita are either unknown or marginalized. It isn’t until the final scene in which he becomes aware of this. The text states, “Damião froze… Cruel moment! A cloud passed before his eyes. Yes he had sworn to protect the little girl…” (Assis 916). In that moment he must make a choice between his own life and wishes or take a shot trying to protect the young girl. The latter choice would indubitably turn the fierce wrath of Sinhá Rita his way; possibly leading to his return to the clergy.

            Returning back to the work of Simone De Beauvoir it is here that Lucretia, the metaphorical “everywoman” learns a valuable lesson. As Beauvoir states, “while normally a woman finds numerous advantages in her relations with a man, his relations with a woman are profitable to a man only in so far as he loves her” (Beauvoir 1268). Although Damião wishes the best for this young girl he has no real love for her; therefore she suffers the rod. This dynamic can be seen in in contrast to that of Sinhá Rita and João Carneiro. João Carneiro risks bodily harm (at the hands of Damião’s father) and losing a friend for the love of Sinhá Rita.

            “The Rod of Justice” is an excellent microcosm of gender power roles involving “Otherness”, love, inferiority, and self-preservation. Within the works few pages volumes of issues and ideas are waiting to be brought to light. This truly shows how artful and poignant the works of Joaquim Maria Machado De Assis are, and furthermore, how the theories of feminist thinkers can be applied to them.       

Works Cited

Assis, Joaquim Maria Machado De. “The Rod of Justice”. The Norton Anthology of World             Literature: Shorter Third Edition, Two- Volume Set. W.W. Norton. Ed. M Puchner. 2012.                     911-916. Print.

Beauvoir, Simone De. “Introduction”. The Second Sex. Identities: Race, Class, Gender, and           Nationality. Malden, MA: Blackwell Pub., Ed. Alcoff, Linda, and Eduardo Mendieta. 2006.        149-157. Print.

---. “Chapter XI: Myth and Reality”. The Second Sex. The Norton Anthology of Theory and            Criticism. New York: W.W. Norton. Ed. Leitch, Vincent B. 2010. 1265-1273. Print.

Butler, Judith. Gender Trouble, Feminist Theory, and Psychoanalytic Discourse. Identities: Race, Class, Gender, and Nationality. Malden, MA: Blackwell Pub., Ed. Alcoff, Linda, and         Eduardo Mendieta. 2006. 201- 210. Print.

Martí and Darío : A Hypthetical Trip to the Pub with Walt Whitman

In order to fully demonstrate the commonalities of authors and thinkers it can, often enough, be useful to create a hypothetical situation in which authors, separated by time and/or space, meet and converse. Stepping into the great expansive realm of hypothetical we witness Walt Whitman, José Martí and Rubén Darío walk into a pub.

 What do they talk about? Is it the mob of people shouting and shifting among the smoky air? Is their topic of debate the well-endowed scandalous looking woman at the end of the bar in the revealing red dress? The lonely bar fly who never became a bride? The foul-smelling homeless man with one shoe sleeping in the dirt and muck around the corner? In all likelihood their topics would be concentrated on how to best portray the sorrows, the pain, the joy, and the bond between all of these people—and by extension all those who collectively makeup humankind. Sitting around a tall table on wobbly wooden stools perhaps they would each share a piece or two of their own works showing how even in poetry they are connected by this human bond.  

            Being the legend that he is Walt Whitman would undoubtedly go first in performing a line or two from “Song of Myself.” First, after taking a large gulp from his tall hoppy pint, he’d proclaim, “I pass with the dying and birth with the new-washed babe, and am not contained between my hat and boots [!]” (Whitman ch. 7 ln. 3-4). Those within earshot would nod their head in approval; a man is not all that he appears to be on the outside. Whitman, standing up from his stool, would proclaim his stance among the natural world or compare himself with the animals which live so happily without the social conventions humankind uses to espouse their woes. Speaking on their behalf he’d shout above the crowd yelling, “They do not sweat and whine about their condition,/ They do not lie awake in the dark and weep for their sins,/ They do not make me sick discussing their duty to God” (Whitman Ch.32 lns.4-6). Turning to the natural world to show how the capability for bliss and peace is always around humankind, but nevertheless is difficult to find inside the canister of the human body. At this point all three would clink their glasses together, all three sharing the sentiment of humankind yearning for the natural state in which they were derived. After returning to their stool José Martí would raise his glass signaling it was time for him to take his turn in the discussion.

            Standing tall, and tipping his well-worn hat to Whitman, he would recite some lines from “I am an Honest Man”,

In the mountains, I am a mountain.

I know the strange names

Of the herbs and the flowers

And of mortal deceits

And of sublime pains. (Martí lns. 8-12)

Whitman seeing the natural imagery connecting to his own work would slap him on the back and tease him hinting about plagiarism. Martí would share his two cents about how all things are connected and that among humans he, and all others, are humans—whether black, brown, white, or purple—all belong to the great human experience.

Afterward, finding himself preaching to the choir, Martí would take his seat. A dark grey mood brought on by spirits would overcome them. Leaning in close they’d begin talks of life, love, and deceit. Another topic would float through their conversations. The conversation of death, in one form or another, and the ways in which humankind continues on even in the face of great adversity. As the ruckus of the pub rages on Martí would whisper,

I have seen a man live

With his dagger at his side,

Without ever saying the name

Of she who had killed him. (Martí lns. 21-24)

He’d talk more about when he had seen his soul counting one of two times being when “she said good-bye to [him]” and an ominous silence would spread across the table (Martí ln.27). Rubén Darío, seeing that the creative energies of his comrades slowly being spent for the evening, would then stand, pour some of his drink to the floor and begin his own speech.

            Knowing that each of them is well aware of the shared burden of human life he’d speak without great pomp reciting from his work “Fatality.” He would say,

The tree is happy because it is scarcely sentient;

The rock is happier still, it feels nothing:

There is no pain as great as being alive,

No burden heavier than that of conscious life. (Darío lns. 1-4).

They three would sit for a quiet moment reflecting on this heavy load they must carry throughout life. Whitman would consider the power of life and the freedom offered but not always taken. Martí would consider the potent emotions conjured across the span of a lifetime. Darío would consider how we are all bound across nations and times in the great drama of human life. Together they’d sip on their beer in silence. Their table an isolated gossamer bubble among the hustle and bustle of the pub.

            Each nearly reaching their peak thinking, the moment before self-realization, until Walt Whitman would stand up from his stool and flip over the table sending the empty bottles and glasses crashing to the floor. The pub would become as quiet as a cemetery on a foggy night until Whitman, with an animalistic look on his face, shouted, “I too am not a bit tamed, I too an untranslatable,/ I sound my barbaric yawp over the roofs of the world[!]” (Whitman ch. 52 lns. 3-4). After which they’d be thrown out of the pub and, after a few slaps on the back and their half-hearted drunken goodbyes, return once more to their private lives contemplating the human condition’s interweaving relationship with the natural world in which it resides. 

Works Cited

Darío, Rubén. “Fatality”. The Norton Anthology of World Literature: Shorter Third            Edition, Two- Volume Set. W.W. Norton. Ed. M Puchner. 2012. 695. Print.

Martí, José. “I am an Honest Man”. The Norton Anthology of World Literature: Shorter Third        Edition, Two- Volume Set. W.W. Norton. Ed. M Puchner. 2012. 681. Print.

Whitman, Walt. Song of Myself. The Norton Anthology of World Literature: Shorter Third Edition, Two- Volume Set. W.W. Norton. Ed. M Puchner. 2012. 648-653. Print.