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Sarah Steil wrote a new post on the site Fact vs. Nonfiction 9 years, 1 month ago
I am driven to write nonfiction because I have stories to tell, and in those tellings I am figuring my life out. I am also deeply afraid of personal nonfiction, because I fear I will never actually be able to […]
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Sarah Steil joined the group Fact vs. Nonfiction 9 years, 1 month ago
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Sarah Steil wrote a new post on the site Reader and Text 9 years, 4 months ago
Discussions of sex, sexuality, and gender have always frustrated me because they are such meaningless, fluid concepts. When I try to define sexuality, I get frustrated because I think people, as animals, do not […]
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Sarah Steil wrote a new post on the site Reader and Text 9 years, 5 months ago
I feared that attending another plagiarism talk would prove to be a fruitless endeavor, being that I’ve heard the content more or less a dozen times before. I’m sure the people delivering the talks have heard […]
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Sarah Steil wrote a new post on the site Reader and Text 9 years, 5 months ago
While I can understand the logic behind the “English majors are pretentious because they are” theory, I think it is difficult to refute because it seems incriminating. Out rush the “Hey, I’m not pretentious!” responses, which are easily ignored as they seem to adhere to the whiny nature of the supposed pretentious English major. Simply, it is impossible to claim one is not pretentious without looking dramatic and self-pitying, and therefore, pretentious. But I think saying “English majors are pretentious because they are” can be a bit dangerous.
I wanted to speak to the appearance of English majors as a body that is pretentious. Yes, it may seem as though English majors needed to prove themselves intelligent as English itself was deemed unworthy due to “its reliance on an activity that every educated gentleman was supposed to be doing”(20).
But I believe, in some way, the view of English as a luxurious pursuit stems from the perception of art as luxury. I am speaking to history (1700s, 1800s, 1900s) when I think of art as something that was bought for and by the rich. Poor people in the 1700s did not have the works of Pisanello or DaVinci hanging on their walls. Not only could the rich afford the art, but often painters would only create a painting themselves if a rich, important person were buying it (and if a middle class individual requested a work, painters would often have paid associates in their studios create it and then put the painter’s name on it).
Being from a family where college itself is a very, very rare luxury, if anyone I was related to knew I pursued English they would laugh. I think, in their minds, English is connected to art in some way. They think, I believe, that if you are lucky enough to go to college you are going to pursue something that will definitely get you a job and a good paycheck. That those who pursue English have money. That those who pursue English have something to fall back on when they graduate if they can’t find a job. That those who do not have money do not pursue English. (Surprise, Mom!)
I think pursuing English seems bold in some way because it does not always tie concretely to a career. Pursue biology, people have grand ideas that often involve hefty paychecks: optometrists, surgeons, dentists, gynecologists. Pursue English and people ask you if you plan on marrying rich.
Pursuing English seems to be perceived as a hobby for wealthier people with the time and money to devote to luxuries. I think saying English majors are pretentious is dangerous, then, because it can perpetuate the idea of English being a luxury and not as serious (at least in my life, anyway). I think “English majors are pretentious because they are” can perpetuate the image of the snotty, privileged private school kid (and thus make it more difficult for people from less affluent backgrounds (and paying for their own educations by themselves) to pursue the subject without fear of ridicule).
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Sarah Steil wrote a new post on the site Reader and Text 9 years, 5 months ago
I am torn on my ideas on the portrayal of white women in Meridian, mainly because I feel that many of the accusations are earned. Obviously, my interactions with white women have occurred on strictly a 21st century basis, so I am biased.
Meridian’s grandmother “held strong opinions which she expressed in this way: 1. She had never known a white woman she liked after the age of twelve. 2. White women were useless except as baby machines which would continue to produce little white people who would grow up to oppress her. 3. Without servants all of them would live in pigsties” (110). Upon reading this section I had agreed with this depiction of white women, remembering a similar sentiment in Solomon Northup’s Twelve Years a Slave.
Of Northup’s time as a slave, he spends a great percentage on the Epps plantation, owned by the ruthless drunkard Edwin Epps. Epps sexually assaulted another slave, Patsey, and Epp’s wife romanticized this assault as some sort of relationship. Jealous and cruel, she encourages her husband to torture Patsey, and looks for little ways to make her life miserable.
Obviously a very small minority owned slaves in the South, but of these slaveowning families I do not doubt that the wives hid behind their husbands (and therefore encouraged their actions with silence) or supported their abuse entirely.
White women during the Civil Rights Movement were often bigoted and racist, but Meridian’s character choice to display this frustrates me. Who is our main archetypal white woman of this novel? Lynne. Lynne who looks at black people as art (for now let’s ignore the fact that Truman belittles Meridian for her race (ex. “Have my beautiful black babies” (120))). What frustrates me about this romanticized and poetic description is the fact that Lynne is married to a black man for years, has a child with this man, and works alongside him for black rights. Lynne is raped in this novel, loses her only child, and is left over and over again so that Truman can use Meridian for her race. And yet she is the ditzy, clueless woman who looks at black people as art: “I will pay for this,” she often warned herself. “It is probably a sin to think of people as art” (136). If she actually viewed black people as art, would she be intelligent enough to be this introspective? And if someone suggests to me that this line is foreshadowing her ‘atoning for sins’ after her rape I will scream. But yet “I will pay for this” seems to suggest exactly that—Lynne ‘deserved’ the rape, she has paid for looking at people as art.
I realize it sounds ridiculous to vouch for the white woman during the Civil Rights movement, and I suppose part of my problem is that I’m hoping for some womanpower uprising. My problem is also not aided by the fact that I did not once feel for Truman’s character. He belittled and used Lynne just as he did Meridian (and yet did not forget to remind the readers they should feel bad for him, too!). I am thinking specifically of the time when Truman dismissed Meridian’s experiences when he describes the racism he faces: “’You women sure are lucky not to have to be up against’em all the time” (117). It is probably another fault of mine that I see the men of this novel as the villains (ex. Truman, Tommy Odds). I do not feel for the plight of Truman or Tommy Odds or Eddie in nearly the same way as I do for Meridian and Lynne.
So, I cut out the men as the villains, praise the women as the underappreciated heroes of the book. But then I am frustrated with both Meridian and Lynne come page 198, “’Besides,’ [Lynne] continued, ‘nobody’s perfect.’ ‘Except white women,’ said Meridian, and winked. ‘Yes,’ said Lynne, ‘but their time will come.’” Haha, yes, Meridian and Lynne, you have finally discovered the group that has not yet properly been fucked over by society! Everyone knows women have had it way too good for way too long. Yes, they are encouraged to marry young and stay at home to raise the kids so their husbands can shine, but they’ve had the right to vote for a solid 40 years now! Where do they get off getting away with so much?
If Lynne and Meridian had simply said white people, I would have been more empathetic, as it seems they are selecting white women specifically for their sex. What about white men? Aren’t they equally (if not more) to blame?
I suppose it is flawed to seek some sort of women-of-all-races-uniting in this book, as that is not how history worked (and is still not how society works now). But I feel that throughout the novel, white women had been showcased far more than white men, and I still have yet to feel any sort of sympathy for the main self-involved male character of the novel, Truman.
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Sarah Steil wrote a new post on the site Reader and Text 9 years, 5 months ago
Throughout the majority of Meridian I had silently but distantly disliked Truman, appreciated Meridian, and couldn’t fully understand Lynne’s character.
My distaste for Truman swelled after Lynne’s rape, when he confronts Tommy Odds and asks why Odds raped his wife.
This conversation, about Odds raping Lynne, should not have been about race, and was certainly not about atoning for sins. The next couple pages make me sputter with anger, so much so that I find it difficult to develop a coherent argument without snapping the book closed and throwing it somewhere.
Truman asks, “Why did you do it, man” (177). Okay, we’re off to a good start. Lynne’s husband wants to know why she was brutally attacked by his friend; perhaps he is looking for revenge or for information that would provide closure.
Tommy Odd’s ‘explanation’ for his actions begins with “Because your woman ain’t shit.” Okay, stop there. The right move would be for Truman to A) Punch the selfish, abusive, egotistical and misogynistic asshole in the face, or B) walk out before letting him finish his selfish, abusive, egotistical and misogynistic sentence. But Tommy Odds continues to speak, “She didn’t even fight. She was just laying back waiting to give it up.”
Truman weakly tries to ‘defend’ his wife (he’s defending his wife for being raped?? Why is this conversation happening after this man assaulted her??) and says she felt sorry for Tommy Odds, and the two banter back and forth over this point. The ship is sinking and I know it by this back-and-forth whiny dialogue—
If Truman were ever going to spit upon his wife’s rapist, the two wouldn’t be going back and forth debating whether or not Lynne felt sorry for him. If he were actually going to be a supportive husband, he wouldn’t be engaging in such a stupid argument over whether or not Lynne felt sorry for Tommy Odds because of his skin color. Why is a discussion being had over race? He just admitted he raped her. It frustrates me that I’m writing this. Lynne did not deserve being raped, and the fact that Truman condones it by not following points A or B makes me want to vomit and shake and then murder his character off.
And then it gets even worse! Tommy Odds tells Truman that he raped his wife and the mother of his child out right, and that she “ain’t been fucking [Truman], she’s been atoning for her sins” (179). What?? In this sneaky, abusive, disgusting sentence Tommy Odds has switched the conversation from the fact that he raped another innocent human being to why she deserved the rape and why the reader should feel sorry for the two. Yes, Truman, I did sexually assault your wife, but that’s not a big deal because she’s only been fucking you because she feels bad that white people are racist.
I do not understand why this chauvinistic pig needs to exist within this book, and it infuriates me that he is allowed enough textual space to ‘defend’ the rape and make the assault about race and his own struggles.
So, okay, Tommy Odds is a sexist asshole and what will logically follow is Truman’s A) Punch in the face, B) walking out or C) explaining why Odds is an asshole and then walking out. Rather, Truman goes with D) none of the above. “’That’s not true,” said Truman, sounding weak, even to himself” (179). What is this whiny, melodramatic sentence? I picture Truman weakly and dramatically looking off into the distance, mumbling to himself, “no, it can’t be true,” and secretly oozing over the fact that suddenly the rape is now a reason to feel sorry for himself. I cannot tell if Truman is just also a misanthropic misogynist, or if Walker is intentionally trying to make a statement about Lynne’s character, and wants the reader to be frustrated with her?
Tommy Odds continues to whine about how difficult it was for Lynne to feel sorry for him, and how he subsequently needed to rape her because of this, and then finishes with “I should have killed her” (179). Truman weakly responds with a “no—
“ and finally turns away. Tommy Odds has raped his wife and then threatens to murder his wife and the two make it about themselves, why she deserved it, and why he was allowed to rape her because she feels sorry for black people. Is the book trying to desensitize the reader to the weight of Odds’ actions, and the word “rape”? Or are Tommy Odds and Truman simply abusive, horrifyingly self-righteous bigots?
I cannot tell how feminism would engage this book, as I can’t tell if the misogyny is intentional. Moran expounds upon the development of feminism in Interdisciplinarity: feminism “has been founded on an impatience with the power arrangements…and the way that the experience of women is devalued or excluded” (Moran 92). Is Lynne yet another example of women being devalued and excluded? Or are the characters of Truman and Tommy Odds merely parodies of themselves?
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Sarah Steil wrote a new post on the site Reader and Text 9 years, 6 months ago
Reading about the way Lynne copes with (or attempts to cope with) her rape reminded me directly of the story I am reading for my creative writing class, and Moran’s meditations on feminism. The men in Lynne’s life challenge her experiences and promptly dismiss them (“[Altuna Jones] looked at Lynne with pity, for she had obviously not been—in his opinion—raped”) and following the assault Lynne has sex out of obligation, grief (175). She is degraded by both the men and women in town, as the men ignore her and the women “began to curse her and to threaten her” (180).
In Cheryl Strayed’s autobiographical work, “The Love of My Life,” she documents the defeating loss and grief she felt upon the early death of her mother. Though married, she copes (or attempts to cope with) the loss by having sex with men and women she does not know and will not remember. In these encounters she experiences a separation from her body: “With them, I was not in mourning; I wasn’t even me. I was happy and sexy and impetuous and fun.” While emotionally she feels no connection to these encounters or the people she has them with, her friends and family cut her off, and in her grieving she develops an addiction to heroin.
In both of these stories, women are perceived by the people in their lives to be unclean sexually autonomous beings. As Moran includes in his writing on feminism and the body, “the body’s materiality is often denied or devalued in everyday culture, one symptom of this being the fact that women are defined by their bodies.. in ways men are not” (Moran 96). If the Lynne and Cheryl were men these stories would offer entirely different readings. In Meridian, Truman’s sexual life is not discussed with as much scrutiny as Lynne’s. While it is understood that Truman has sex with different women and is ignorant to Meridian’s wants, he is not dirty because of his actions. He is aggressive, rude, selfish, yes. But having sex with these different women does not make a statement on his body, on his cleanliness and purity. Lynne is seen as used for her sex life, “as if she were a prostitute” (180).
As Strayed writes in her story, “Women are used to the bad behavior of men. We eroticize and congratulate it and in return we brace ourselves to be dissatisfied, duped, deceived, dumped, and dicked around.” Women and men’s bodies and actions are not viewed the same. In her own life, Cheryl’s infidelity and sex life becomes a defining characteristic on her life and a mark on her body. Both of these women’s actions become defining parts of the way they are perceived by the people in their lives.
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Sarah Steil wrote a new post on the site Reader and Text 9 years, 6 months ago
Moran’s investigations into feminist theory offer an interesting probe into queer theory. He notes society’s need to categorize and diagnose sexuality: “from the late nineteenth century onward, the homosexual became a named category or species, whereas previously same-sex love had just been an activity undertaken by a wide variety of people” (97). Sexuality not only needs to be defined and categorized, but also it becomes tied to personality, becomes “entangled in much wider issues… of masculinity, capitalism, and national identity” (99).
At the Trans? Fine By Me talk I went to recently, one of the speakers mentioned a man who was gay who was assaulted. However, she noted, this man was not assaulted for his sexuality. He was not with his partner, and therefore the assailant would have no way of knowing his sexuality. Rather, he was assaulted because the assailant believed he failed at his gender. He was believed to not be actively expressing his masculinity enough, and because of this, the assailant believed he was homosexual. Thus, his masculinity tied directly to his sexuality, as Moran suggests is a common fault.
I have five siblings. One of my sisters is bisexual, one of my brothers is transgender, and one of my brothers is gay. However, I do not often tell people these facts because people seem to define them by their sexuality/gender. Sam becomes my “bisexual sister,” rather than my sister who is bisexual. Ollie because my “transgender brother” rather than my brother who is transgender. And Jesse becomes my “gay brother” rather than my brother who is gay. This diction bothers me because I know their sexuality not only becomes a defining characteristic to their beings, but people tie their sexuality and gender to personality, masculinity and femininity.
Because Jesse is gay, people I describe him to immediately assume he is more feminine, even though sexuality and gender are two completely separate things. Instead of simply being a male attracted to individuals of the same sex, he is assumed to be girly, a fan of shopping and gossip, feminine. Jesse will always be one of the best men I will ever know (and far more ‘manly’ than most of the heterosexual men I know), but friends in school will belittle his masculinity because of preconceived notions about his sexuality.
Moran’s brief dip into queer theory has proved to be the most interesting argument in the book. He questions our need to define sexuality, to tie to sexuality to masculinity and femininity, and reminds me that there is far more than two genders and two sexes. I could probably 600 more blog posts about queer theory.
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Sarah Steil wrote a new post on the site Reader and Text 9 years, 6 months ago
My oldest sister is a landscape architect. When this is brought up at family gatherings, a wayward (and often intoxicated) aunt or uncle will laugh, “You spent all that money on school to plant grass?” or “I’ll give you a dollar to mow my lawn.”
Contrary to the ideas of drunken relatives, landscape architects deal with space. Specifically, they work to actively shape and develop spaces to work and function in certain ways. They directly remind us of what Moran affirms, that space is “culturally produced,” and is “produced by a whole range of different agents and practices,” “specifically by forging links between geography and other links” such as sociology (Moran 150).
My sister works directly with uniting geography and sociology. Her job is reinventing spaces to connect the two, designing and building spaces to attract people and conversation. For a very simple example: What thought goes into creating a bus stop? Obviously there is a focus on placement, and perhaps comfort, but thought is also dedicated to how to make such a basic and important space a conversation. How do you design a bus stop to attract people, and to make the idea of taking the bus more inviting? How do you have people interact at such a simple, otherwise uninteresting space? What colors do you make this stop to attract people, soothe people, have it blend in to the street, have it stick out? What do you place around the stop to have it be more social? Trees, bike racks, food stands? How do you make an otherwise un-engaging space suddenly attract attention? What materials do you use?
This example can be applied to buildings, houses, apartments, etc. Moran has us focus upon the development of cities, which are “bound up with relations of power, producing a king of symbolic geography” (Moran 151). My sister (and others belonging to her profession) are one of the “different agents” that develop space. Landscape architects can build a space or building to reinforce a “symbolic geography” (Moran 151). Ex: by placing more modern buildings in poorer cities, to decide “what—and who—should be visible and what should not” (Moran 151).
Space, typically thought of as empty and undeveloped, is actively shaped and interdisciplinary, as it connects different subjects and academic areas to make it symbolic (ex: placing expensive buildings in poorer cities) or simply more engaging/interesting/marketable in general.
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Sarah Steil commented on the post, Intertextuality Between Classes, on the site Reader and Text 9 years, 6 months ago
Maddie! I’m in your creative non-fiction class, and I’m really curious to know what story you commented on/used Cane for??
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Sarah Steil wrote a new post on the site Reader and Text 9 years, 6 months ago
Stressing the importance and the interdisciplinary nature of everyday life, Moran explains that daily “cultural practices” often slip through the “surveillance networks” of society (59). He contends the myth of […]
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Sarah Steil wrote a new post on the site Reader and Text 9 years, 7 months ago
A line from Moran’s Interdisciplinarity that my mind keeps circling around like water around a drain is, ““unlike many other disciplines, English does not make a strong connection between education and training for future careers” (18). I sort of view the Creative Writing major as the pot-smoking younger brother of the literature major, which is the ugly stepchild of the science majors.
I had gone to an English Professor and confessed my fears about being a creative writing major, “I know it’s what I want to do, but I don’t know if it’s the smartest thing to do. Like, what if I graduate and the only place that hires me for the rest of my life is Starbucks?”
“Well,” she smiled, “A great number of our creative writing graduates do work at Starbucks. But it’s good for their writing!”
While internally, I felt like I was having a mild stroke at this affirmation, I thanked her and agreed, yes, I suppose it would be good for my writing, and yes, I should be open to these opportunities.
Now, when I sit in my Creative Writing classes, I harbor this resentment at how much I enjoy them. I don’t want to want to be a Creative Writing major. I whined to my older sister about this: “Should I just do Biology? At least I’d have a job.” She laughed, “I mean, I guess you could do creative writing. I’m sure mom’s couch will still be comfortable when you’re 40.”
So when I hear English Lit majors dreading their job opportunities (or lack thereof) in the future, I feel even worse, and silently accept my inevitable unemployed future, and start preparing my back for my mother’s old couch.
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Sarah Steil wrote a new post on the site Reader and Text 9 years, 7 months ago
Upon entering Cane, we are struck by the blunt sexuality of the opening vignette/story/passage, “Karintha.” We meet the exuberant titular character, and although only twelve, we are informed that she is a “wild flash” and that “men had always wanted her.” Karintha discovers the world of sex: “perhaps she had felt her parents loving,” and with this knowledge she plays ‘home’ with a boy. After this discovery, old men no longer ride “her hobby-horse upon their knees.”
“Karintha” almost immediately evokes the image of Vladimir Nabokov’s Lolita, which came decades later and mirrors its intimate sexuality. In Lolita, we meet another titular character, a 12 year-old girl that emanates enthusiasm and desirability. Lolita becomes the center of the affections of Humbert Humbert, a writer that lives in her home (and later marries her mother, Charlotte, to stay close to her). Humbert dreams of touching Lolita, dreads time spent alone with her mother and survives coitus with Charlotte by dreaming Lolita shares the bed with him. However, throughout the novel, Humbert Humbert stresses that he could not imagine tarnishing the purity of his lovely “nymphet,” and while he hungers for Lolita, he does not allow himself to touch her.
However, while at camp, Lolita has sex with an older boy and this ignites Humbert Humbert’s impatience. Soon after, he kidnaps Lolita, drugs her, has sex with her and lives with her for years before she finally escapes.
The works struck me as too similar to simply be coincidentally related. This connect reminded me of Joe Moran’s definition of “structuralism” in Interdisciplinarity. On page 76, Moran informs us, “structuralist approaches tend to emphasize ‘intertextuality’, the notion that texts are formulated not through acts of originality by individual authors but through interaction and dialogue with other texts.” Structuralist analyses focuses on the “form” texts share with one another.
While it is possible that Jean Toomer’s Cane did not influence Lolita, structuralism would contend that, by existing in the same greater universe of literature, Nabokov must have been affected or impacted in some way by “Karintha.” One could also argue that these stories, “Karintha” and Lolita, mirror the same “form,” a discussion of sexuality and youth.
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Sarah Steil wrote a new post on the site Reader and Text 9 years, 7 months ago
Breathing heavily and watching my best friend’s hand turn a concerning purple in my own, I was sitting in an airport terminal at the end of my first semester of college. I had never been on a plane, and as I prepared myself to fly home for winter break, I considered my imminent death and the pointlessness of my life as it came to its inevitable close.
An older flight attendant with hair dyed bright red came around to impatient passengers as we waited for our delayed plane, and handed out smiley face stickers. She would stop and ask the kids my age, “Oh, are you in school? What’s your major?” Distracted, I responded absentmindedly to her typical questions, and when she asked my major and I murmured, “Um, yeah, I’m English,” she winked and said, “Oh, would you like fries with that?” And then, with a laugh, “I was an English major too when I was in school.”
I couldn’t tell if this was the world’s way of telling me that before I died I should change my major to something more prestigious, or if I lived I would be this same woman in 40 years.
I began to think of how open an English major appears, how it does not tie concretely to a career path as some other majors do. English is open and interdisciplinary, and thus can not claim the exclusive prestige of another more focused major. As Moran writes, English “is generally accessible to those working outside the discipline” and thus being an “English person” seemed to completely lose its prestige and importance (19). However, this wideness in scope both adds and detracts to the strength in English’s “interdisciplinary” and “disciplinary” nature. While the study of English requires a focused and centered analysis of literary text and criticism, it also allows for an examination of other humanities and pursuits and the world at large.
English is so all-encompassing that when the major first emerged, “one college dean… said that he failed to see why a new discipline needed to be created in order to study the books he read on the train to work” (21). While English has seemed to establish itself more firmly in the world of academia since its start, it also seems to have lost its respectability in a time where job searching is no easy task. Is it possible that English has become more respected as a pursuit of academia, but less respected as a real world career path? Will English truly ever establish a “clear professional footing”? (38). -
Sarah Steil joined the group Reader and Text 9 years, 7 months ago
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Sarah Steil became a registered member 9 years, 7 months ago