repressing our insatiability for violence

In our society, the uncommon is normalized and the unique is standardized. The unthinkable is integrated into everyday lives: it is permitted, accepted, and even glorified.  

A prime example of this social principle is our "compulsive fascination" with violence. Perhaps it is the fact that its intensity has the power to bring individuals from the realm of life to the cusp of death. Unfortunately, violence is an all-too-common occurrence that, despite its horrific nature, never fails to lure us into an eerie captivation. Though we condemn and decry it, we continue to secretly hunger for it. This obscure craving is what fuels media to persist and increase in the portrayal of violence, which essentially throws us all into a vicious cycle that remains yet unbroken. 

Chet Raymo would advocate for this kind of obsession to be tempered with “a measure of restraint.”  As he observes, our quest for scientific discovery reveals “what is best and worst” within us. Likewise, the exposure of violence is justified when it brings about an awareness of injustice and engenders sympathy for the victim that eventually catalyzes a reaction to end the oppression. However, the “other face” of it is that it makes the very viewers victims of an acute desensitization and repulsive fascination. 

The media’s portrayal of violence and our constant beholding of it “demands…a judicious self-restraint.” Because though such videotapes are capable of “channel[ing a] path through time, [of] giv[ing] things a shape and a destiny,” that path is a dangerously benumbing one that is “hemmed with peril.”

maus close read

On page 125 of Maus I, Vladek describes his and Anja's escape from the Srodula ghetto. At the bottom of the page is a panel of Vladek and Anja holding hands and looking out over the bleak scene ahead of them.

The path they walk on is shaped curiously like a swastika; this implies that though both have escaped the clutches of the Nazis this time and are free to go wherever they want, they remain continually under the threat of recapture. Their very lives, their paths to the future, are laced with the horrors of Nazi oppression.

In the distance looms the silhouette of a factory building; the smoke spewing from the chimney reminds viewers of the crematoriums of Aushcwitz. This serves as a silent warning to the forlorn pair that any decision of theirs will lead them to this terrible fate; their freedom is only short lived, and their struggle to survive will soon be reduced to mere wisps of smoke.

The majority of the landscape—the grass, hills, homes—is mercilessly striped. Vladek and Anja's shadows, too, are striped both ways, making a rough crisscross pattern which resembles prison bars. Although they try to outrun their own shadows, their imprisonments of fear and panic, they are surrounded with the jailbird stripes associated with inhumanity.

Earlier, on page 114, Vladek says to Art, "At that time it wasn't anymore families. It was everybody to take care for himself!" However, through the depiction of Vladek and Anja holding hands, Art is hinting at the strength and comfort his parents found in each other. Vladek and Anja exhibit true love and care for each other before, during, and after Auschwitz which is what unites them across bars and barracks and allows them to survive and ultimately produce their second son, Art. It is this son that lives on to revive their story, to not only air the suffering, but also to reveal the power of undying hope and unselfish love.

paternal links in maus

Art Spiegelman once remarked about Maus, "From the book, a reader might get the impression that the conversations depicted in the narrative were just one small part, a facet of my relationship with my father. In fact, however, they were my relationship with my father. I was doing them to have a relationship with my father. Outside of them, we were still continually at loggerheads."

Just as Art seeks to reconnect with his father, Vladek himself spends his life under the shade of various father figures: his wealthy father-in-law, his dreamed up grandfather, the rabbi who consoles him at the POW camp, and the Catholic priest at Auschwitz. These men fuel Vladek's will to survive; they praise his ingenuity and identify him as a recipient of God's choicest blessings.

Vladek, though, does not seem to make his son feel this way. In fact, in a conversation with Pavel (his Holocaust-survivor-psychotherapist), Art says he remembers "arguing with [Vladek]... and being told that I couldn't do anything as well as he could." The entire discussion revolves around the duality of his damaged relationship with his father: his guilt and anger at feeling inconsequential next to him yet also his reluctance to place his father's deepest core in the light for potential ridicule.  

In a similar vein, it's interesting to note that Art dedicates the second book to his daughter (and to Richieu, who is also a child). This gives us a glimpse into the inner workings behind Maus. While it is a means for reflecting upon and mending the relationship with his own father, it is also a catalyst for Art's ruminations on what kind of father he himself will be. As he writes the tale of his father, he wonders: what kind of story will he impart to his own children? 

a bit of dark humor

the quirky behaviors of the nacirema, continued

The elders among the Nacirema believe that the continuous intake of a certain magical potion aids in transporting their souls through the various stages of the day.

The members of the tribe religiously create this magical potion each day at the crack of dawn. First, they carefully gather some of the "holy water" and place it into the mouth of a sacred container. They then take out a jar full of dark enchanted dust, measured amounts of which they sprinkle into the holy water. They close the container and turn away. As their eyes remain averted, they utter silent prayers in their heart until the container sends out a signal for them to stop. Reverently, they retrieve their half-done potion—transformed from a pure, pristine liquid to one now murky in color—and proceed to add the finishing touches. For this, they require a bit of the sweet, bewitching dust and another liquid white in color.

The older Nacirema take considerable pleasure in downing this warped form of their holy water multiple times daily. Although their medicine men have repeatedly told them of the benefits of consuming holy water alone—that it causes the skin to glow and the body to function more smoothly—they do not care much for it. The medicine men have repeatedly warned them that this magical concoction causes insomnia, nervousness, restlessness, stomach upsets, and  headaches. But the Nacirema pay no heed.

"It is to be hoped that, when a thorough study of the Nacirema is made, there will be careful inquiry into" their unusual dependency on EEFFOC. 

consider the trampoline

On any balmy day, you will find American backyards awash with people soaring sky-high on familiar big, bouncy contraptions. 

"For practical purposes, everyone knows what a [trampoline] is." It's a conglomeration of metal legs connected in a circular fashion with a round, elastic mat stretched across the rim with sturdy metal springs. If you have one of the more expensive ones, you can also expect a series of metal rods sticking up at evenly spaced intervals around the circumference of the trampoline, supporting a net that supposedly prevents jumpers from falling outside. Trampolines come in various sizes, can be circular or rectangular, and are supplemented with safety pads in bright, appealing hues. They can be used by children, teenagers, and adults alike.

Undoubtedly, the trampoline serves as an avenue of fun, entertainment, and healthy exercise. But have you ever thought of the potential risks associated with jumping on it? What would the doctors say about this deceptively merry medium of play and enjoyment? Can the harms be avoided by rule-abiding users? "Is the whole thing just a matter of personal [carefulness]?" 

If an unsuspecting child jumps close enough to the side rail, broken arms and legs could be the result. If you are unfortunate enough to let your head come in contact with the side rail or even with other people's heads, then not only will you see stars, but the whole Milky Way galaxy too, as you slip into the dark realm of painful concussions. Jumping off the trampoline and onto something on the ground can bring about lacerations; bumping into others may produce abdominal injuries. Ramming into the evil side rail is also a cause of the latter two grievances. And let's not get into the broken necks and spinal cord injuries, which often end in permanent paralysis or even death for the victim.* 

But that's not to say that one should flee from even the slightest shadow of these monstrous man-injurers. Not at all. In fact, I myself have a jumbo-sized trampoline sitting in my very own backyard.** Whenever Michigan's hormonal weather slips up into a breezy, wonderful day, I zip outside and onto my lovely trampoline. After all, jumping on one can essentially improve the quality of life by keeping you active, fit, and healthy!

*The American Academy of Pediatrics says, "Parents should never purchase a home trampoline or allow children to use home trampolines." Their high concern for child safety is evident in this strongly-worded piece of advice. 

**No, seriously, I do. 

virginia, laura, clarissa

The Hours: a film that transcends time and space to tell the story of three women whose lives are undeniably intertwined and utterly tainted with the unyielding speculations about the volatile vulnerability of life.

Who are they, exactly, and how do we see their lives reflecting those of the characters in Mrs. Dalloway?

Virginia Woolf is much like the character she herself created: Septimus Warren Smith. Like the war veteran, Virginia longs to return to the life before her mental illness took hold. Because of their disillusionment with life and the ebbing away of their freedom, both commit suicide—leaving behind spouses who loved and cared for them, yet ultimately failed to understand their true condition.

Laura Brown is also comparable to Septimus in many ways. Like Septimus, she has a devoted spouse who cares for her more than she cares for him. Post-war Septimus prefers to spend his time away from people; Laura, too, is shy and removed from society. Septimus's feelings for Evans are parallel to Laura's relationship with Kitty. Both are sick of leading a meaningless life, one that neither had ever imagined living. In response, Septimus kills himself while Laura resolves to leave her family.

Clarissa Vaughan is the modern version of Clarissa Dalloway. Not only do they share the same name, the two also have many of the same experiences throughout the day: preparing for a party, buying flowers, hearing a loud bang, and meeting friends they haven't seen in years. Clarissa Dalloway's ephemeral kiss with Sally is protracted into Clarissa Vaughan's open, decade-long relationship with her Sally. Both women dream of a different life with lovers past, and grapple with startling questions about the meaning of life. Though living in New York City eight decades later, Clarissa Vaughan is an equally revolutionary model of her fictional counterpart. 

the end of mrs. dalloway

"But what an extraordinary night! She felt somehow very like him—the young man who had killed himself. She felt glad that he had done it; thrown it away. The clock was striking. The leaden circles dissolved in the air. He made her feel the beauty; made her feel the fun." (186)

In this passage, Clarissa ruminates about Septimus's boldness in so freely throwing away what she deems most coveted—life itself. Up till this point, the inevitability of death has always produced emotions of anxiety, dread, and panic within her. She fears death because she believes she has no control over its undefeatable force. Thus, Septimus's willful suicide initially flabbergasts her. She considers the enormity of such a deed as she realizes that the only thing she has flung from her is "a shilling into the Serpentine, never anything more." Her thoughts lead her to believe that his suicide was a way to conquer death; he strove to place himself in power by treating death as inconsequential. In the end, Clarissa feels "very like him," because she can finally come to terms with the reality of giving up life. 

In the midst of her contemplation, Clarissa notices the time. Once again, the resounding chimes of Big Ben remind her that one man's death doesn't end all. Life goes on, and the realization that the sun will still shine, that the birds will still chirp, that her memory will continue to resonate in the minds of her loved ones fills her with awe at the "beauty" and "fun" of time's continuity.