Lizbeth’s Comments (group member since Feb 04, 2015)

Lizbeth’s comments from the Classics Without All the Class group.

Hi, Alana

You're not alone! It does get complicated and confusing with the names that sound so much alike, too.

I notice that if you Google a family tree for Wuthering Heights, many fans have made some interesting ones, some more helpful and clear than others.

When my mom did our family tree, it got very confusing, with all of the families in small towns marrying the same few other families, and naming their children after the mother and father, or the uncle, or the mother's maiden name, etc. Dizzying!

Yes, it has been a great thought-provoking thread! Very fun.

After reading Katie's comments about Edith Wharton's own life (which I had never read about) I went to Wikipedia and looked it up. You guys-- her life was way more interesting and dramatic than any of the characters and situations she imagined.

As pertaining to this particular thread, and perhaps an appetizer for the wiki article, Edith's middle name was NewBOLD. And was she ever!

Thanks, Glendapearl. The excerpt you posted is really interesting. "A condemnation of a certain type of adventurer..." Wow! So different from how the story struck me.

I was thinking about the title: "Heart of Darkness". I was wondering how many people at the time of its publication thought it was simply going to be about a colonial soldier following an order to reach a commanding officer in the middle of "the Dark Continent". Instead, we go to the heart of mankind's darkness. That seems obvious today, but it might have been shocking for naive readers "back home" to find out just how any empire is able to maintain their controlling interests in various parts of the globe. Does anyone know what sort of reception/ reaction followed its release?

It doesn't read like a docudrama, but it feels like it's part of the beginnings of that medium. Enough time has gone by now, that we can evaluate the perceptions and prejudices of the documentarian along with his subject matter.

Allesandra, I didn't think your thoughts were incoherent at all. I enjoyed reading your take on everything. There is a lot going on in this book, so of course there is a lot to say about it. I think you were spot on.

Edith Wharton doesn't give us much to say about May. She seems like a type-- earnest and naive, and used to getting her way-- because she always has right on her side. I think Archer wants May to be supported and rewarded for having her mind and heart always facing toward the uncomplicated right. She seems as symbolic to Archer as Ellen is, without him really knowing either one. He is a purist in many ways, perhaps. He admires Ellen's bravery for flouting convention and not hiding herself away, yet he wants May's world of innocence to be upheld and honored, because that's "the way things should be". For May and all she represents to "win" brings him a moral peace. That he ignores the yearnings of his heart, might make him think of himself as a tragic hero in his own view. Tragic in the sense that he can't live with the same purity of purpose as does Ellen, May, Dallas and Fannie. Because he has a choice, though, I don't see him as tragic, but maybe just a figure of wistfulness.

Perhaps "wistful" is how Edith Wharton was feeling toward New York in general. She isn't as severe in this book toward her characters as she is in "The House of Mirth" and "Ethan Frome". She lets Archer have his innocence without punishing him for it.

I guess for me, Thomas Hardy can't be summed up. I think that he wanted to deal with forms of suffering that were caused by various forces. If he wanted to make a point that certain social conventions like class, and deteriorating socioeconomic conditions for laborers, were causing the level of suffering that he observed, then he created tragic circumstances to make an emotional impact. But the outcomes for various characters happen across a wide range of circumstance.

Hello, all.

I used to make pies with homemade crusts that got raves. Now, I don't bake at all, nor eat baked goods. Yes, I have joined the gluten-averse. As a comedian said, "I don't know what gluten is, but apparently it's delicious!"

Thank goodness literature is written dairy-free with zero trans-fats and low on the glycemic index.

@ Whitney: Thanks. It was an interesting test question.

Gary brings up a good point about Hardy being a Naturalist. That sets him apart from a Romantic like Bronte.

So, basically, for Hardy, the heath can be an obstacle to the characters trying to live on it. As in, you can die on it and all of your secrets die with you, and then the hopes of the reader die that the plot will turn out favorably.

For Bronte, the characters don't fare any better for her than for Hardy, but their strength and vitality come from the heath. Their spirits seem to be sprung from, and forever attached to the heath, for better or worse.

Hardy is pretty darn doom and gloomy. Maybe its his Naturalist bent that makes him seem bleaker than other tragedy writers. Like we should be listening to "Dust in the Wind" while we read. His books are like laments over our condition, so I guess he seems compassionate in that respect, and not completely harsh.

Kadijah Michelle,
Not being able to read while you're dealing with illness can be so disheartening. And it is so rewarding when that ability comes back again. So glad you can enjoy your books again!
lb

Welcome Tahreem!

Harry Potter and Jane Austen. What fun! I can imagine that if Jane Austen went forward in time and showed up in a Harry Potter novel, she would have been a lot like Hermione. :-)

Ok, now I want to see Jane Austen and Hermione meet up and smile at each other approvingly.

Wow, thanks Alana. Understanding that there were different time periods that he worked on this book might account for how I've been feeling as I read it. It seems so unlike his other works in tone. It's almost as if he's having a conversation with his various selves, which is really a privilege to be able to listen to.

Hi, Alana

I know, right? :-) This story from her life caused me to think about what celebrity does to the person at the center of all of the attention that can easily turn to notoriety.

Thanks, Jim for that follow-up! My imagination made some incorrect leaps, there. :-)

Hmm. It's interesting that Oural, being the main character, only has these two friends, these two loves, that are so different from each other. The Fox is the Classical Old Man, which Lewis definitely was. The Fox is an intellectual, perhaps, but still is a captive slave in a kingdom far from home.

The other is the freely beloved and celebrated Psyche (the soul), a young girl, who is the opposite of the Fox. Psyche is free as a child, and arouses admiration for her beauty, delight found in natural physicality, and is a picture of an earnestly spiritual force. But she also arouses the possessive attachment, masquerading as love, that Dawn pointed out.

Psyche is longing for some interesting things that make Oural feel unloved:

to go to a Grey Mountain (faraway, high up place) where she can finally live fulfilled with its king, leaving everyone she knows behind.

to meet a bridegroom that might be a loving god/devouring monster. The relationship between Christ and the Church is likened to that of a Hebrew Bridegroom coming to call for his Bride to be brought out to him.

Before the Bridegroom can do this, however, he must be "devoured" by the church in the form of the bread and wine (no arguments for or against transubstantiation, here-- just noticing Lewis's imagination at work), for an uncertain length of time.

In this story, however, the devouring is flipped, and the Bride is the one being both loved and consumed by the Bridegroom. Perhaps this is more what love feels like from the human side.

It feels like Lewis is exploring the experience of divine love while still trying to hang on to sanity. Somewhere in there, Reason is trying to survive, and sounds right, but lacks the courage of conviction in the face of all of this doubt and confusion and messy fluidity of the soul.

However, I can feel for Oural, in spite of her jealousy and fear of abandonment. When your children grow up, there is a gnawing feeling that letting them leave home and follow their longings and curiosities is contrary to the natural urge to protect them. The world seems poised to devour them. There is also a necessary rejection, on their part, of the nest. Hopefully, Wisdom, apart from Nature or Reason, will continue to prevail with most parents.

I can't wait to read the upcoming chapters, the original myth, and the discussion questions and comments by others!

Learning a little of Lewis's timeline and when he wrote his books is really helpful. If he wrote this after marrying and losing his wife, Joy, to cancer, he might feel more tenderly toward all of his characters than did the bachelor Oxford apologist.

When I read that line spoken by Bardia at the end of this discussion, I felt a pang. I imagined Lewis perhaps having to stand outside of Joy's hospital room, while trying to accept what was happening to her inside, and wondering how he should act or not, or what to believe.

Thank you, Jim, for putting so much into our understanding and appreciation of this book. I don't think I would have ever gotten around to reading it, otherwise!

This chapter really got to me for a personal reason. This didn't happen to me, but to my sister-in-law, as a child. Her family was visiting a village in southern Mexico and were the only white people some of the villagers had ever seen (this was in the seventies before satellite TV).

The people were fascinated with her because of her white-blonde hair and large green eyes. They kept wanting to touch her, and thought of her as being nearly angelic. She was an ornery scamp, like any modern child, but because she looked so "other-worldly" to them, they spoiled her and enjoyed her antics.

One day, a neighbor woman who had given birth to a beautiful baby started allowing visitors. My little sister-in-law would visit often and hold the baby and make over it, which was also fascinating for people to watch. The baby died in its early infancy for no obvious reason, as many babies do in those living conditions, with no access to medical care.

The reason for the baby's death was attributed to my sister-in-law's "strong eyes". They believed that she had accidentally given the baby evil eye, not out of malice; but rather out of possessive and intense longing to be close to such a sweet baby.

In this case, the people chalked it up to basic bad luck, as just one of those unfortunate things that can happen among humans and the spirit world, and didn't blame her or even treat her differently after that. (Whew!)

This chapter was so strange for me because my sister-in-law's experience with the baby was like a combination of Oural's feelings toward Psyche, and also the people's reactions over Psyche's beauty and then sudden blame for their misfortune, all in one.

No hard feelings came out of this toward my in-laws, (miraculously) but I can't imagine what this real-life drama did to the psyche (pun intended) of such a young girl who stood out physically and was propped up because of that, only to have all of that attention go awry.

I think that it does matter who is right, in terms of the King's decision. The priest is demanding the life of Psyche, and the Fox is trying to save it. The Fox gives a list of things that he would do in the King's place. The King does have a choice regardless of what the people want to have happen. But he can't know the Truth of what is the best course in advance.

We can't know that if the King were to have tried to save Psyche, based on an alignment with the Fox's notion of Kingly and parental sacrifice, or based on his own notions of honor and love, that he would have been successful in that attempt.

The pleading of the Fox is indicating that the King does have a choice in how to respond. There is an infinite number of realities that could have come out of those choices. Although he has divine blood in him, he seems to lack an imagination. Both the Priest and the Fox have to provide that for him, and he just sort of thrashes around among their visions without any real faith in anything they're saying.

Even though the King appears to Oural to be relieved that the lot did not fall with him to be sacrificed, and that he clearly hopes that all of the fuss will die down once she is offered for expiation, he loudly and violently emotes the heavy burden of decision that rests upon a ruler.

He sort of reminds me of a Pontius Pilate type of character, who can't see the logic of what the Pharisees and the mob are demanding of him, but just wants it all to be over, so he can put it behind him.

The Fox character seems to symbolize Reason, and its limits. He reminds me of Virgil in Dante's inferno.

However, Lewis seems sympathetic toward the Fox. His body trembles at the threat to his life, giving away his fear, but he struggles to keep his faith in a natural order of events.

Instead of admitting that his Stoic faith has failed him, which is a disgrace to him, he feels instead that he failed his Stoic faith. He takes his shame upon himself, which weakens him.

Sometimes, it seems to me that (within mythology) silence is often a projection of human emotional reactions, such as the silent treatment used for punishment, after wrath and other kinds of punishment have failed.

Other times it can seem like a dispassionate strategy on the part of the gods for getting people to carry out their will. The silence creates fear among the people, and a drive to win back the gods' favor, whatever it takes.

Among humans, silence can be a response to someone who seems self-destructive and past hope. The silence comes more from a helpless and self-protective stance. If the humans are being rebellious, I suppose the gods might simply be waiting for the humans to return to an attentive and worshipful state, instead of threatening or cajoling them.