As the rain moves
from the mountain to the sea,
so shall words move,
such that they always move me.
~Father Nature, Editor
Tuesday, May 12, 2009
Summer Break
In the words of Porky the Pig, "That's all folks!" I hope you've enjoyed my "Quality Project" for English 2. If you've become a fan, please bookmark this blog, and check back in a year or two, because I do plan on continuing to do this for books I read in college and later in my life. Don't forget to check out my previous posts, if this is the first one you see. And as we go into our summer vacations (some of us, at least), may we not forget the beauties of nature. As we say in Hawaii, Mahalo nui loa. Thank you very much. 
As the rain moves
from the mountain to the sea,
so shall words move,
such that they always move me.
~Father Nature, Editor
As the rain moves
from the mountain to the sea,
so shall words move,
such that they always move me.
~Father Nature, Editor
Friday, May 8, 2009
Animal Dreams: Stunning Similes
"I'd seen photographs of lighting frozen in its terrible splendor, rippling like a knife down the curtains of the sky" (Animal 305-6).
"But the letters ended, finite as a book or a life" (Animal 300).
"The flowers were beaten down, their bent-over heads bejeweled with diamond droplets like earrings
on sad, rich widows" (Animal 272).
"In the past, the two-week delay of her letters had caused me to keep a distrustful eye on Hallie, like a star so many light years away it could have exploded long ago while we still watched its false shine" (Animal 270).
"I walked downtown among strangers, smiling, anonymous as a goldfish" (Animal 200).
"My life is a pitiful, mechanical thing without a past, like a little wind-up car, ready to run in any direction somebody points me" (Animal 199).
"Bugs swirled in the headlights like planets cut loose from their orbits, doomed to chaos" (Animal 191).
"He looked at me, his eyes searching back and forth between my two pupils as if he were trying to decide which door concealed the prize" (Animal 183).
"Leaves and aborted fruits fell in thick, brittle handfuls like the hair of a cancer patient" (Animal 173).
"The picture slowly gives up its soul to him as it lies in the pan, like someone drowned at the bottom of the pool" (Animal 142).
"I kept turning my mind away from the one thought that kept coming back to me, persistent as an unwanted lover's hand, that I'd saved a life" (Animal 117).
"I know that a woman's ambitions aren't supposed to fall and rise and veer off course this way, like some poor bird caught in a storm" (Animal 107).
"The end was always curled up between us, like a sleeping cat, present even in our love-making" (Animal 105).
"Her eyes were pale as marbles" (Animal 105).
"Kissing Loyd was delicious, like some drug I wanted more of in spite of the Surgeon General's warning" (Animal 105).
"His family is a web of women dead and alive, with himself at the center like a spider, driven by different instincts. He lies mute, hearing only in the tactile way that a spider hears, touching the threads of the web with long extended fingertips and listening. Listening for trapped life" (Animal 98).
"The mother had been tortured and her eyes offered out that flatness, like a zoo animal" (Animal 93).
"I went home to read it, like a rat scurrying back to its hole with some edible prize" (Animal 86).
"Slowly it grew to a force as strong and untouchable as thunder" (51).
"Hallie thrived anyway--the blossom of our family, like the one of those miraculous fruit trees that taps into an invisible vein of nurture and bears radiant bushels of plums while the trees around it merely go on living" (Animal 49).
"I
stood still for a minute, giving Hallie's and my thoughts their last chance to run quietly over the wires, touching each other in secret signal as they passed, like a column of ants" (Animal 34).
"I could see just how we'd look to somebody, hanging on to each other by the elbows: like two swimmers in trouble, both of us equally likely to drown" (Animal 31).
"His brain gets jostled and things move around inside his head like olives in a jar of brine" (Animal 20).
"Acacias lean into the river with their branches waving wildly in the current, like mothers reaching in for lost babies" (Animal 19).
"I tended to drift, like a well-meaning visitor to this planet awaiting instructions" (Animal 10).
"Hallie and I were so attached, like keenly mismatched Siamese twins conjoined at the back of the mind. We parted again and again and still each time it felt like a medical risk, as if we
were being liberated at some terrible cost: the price of a shared organ. We never stopped feeling that knife” (Animal 8).
“His two girls are curled together like animals whose habit is to sleep underground, in the smallest space possible” (Animal 3)
~Father Nature, Editor
"But the letters ended, finite as a book or a life" (Animal 300).
"The flowers were beaten down, their bent-over heads bejeweled with diamond droplets like earrings
on sad, rich widows" (Animal 272)."In the past, the two-week delay of her letters had caused me to keep a distrustful eye on Hallie, like a star so many light years away it could have exploded long ago while we still watched its false shine" (Animal 270).
"I walked downtown among strangers, smiling, anonymous as a goldfish" (Animal 200).
"My life is a pitiful, mechanical thing without a past, like a little wind-up car, ready to run in any direction somebody points me" (Animal 199).
"Bugs swirled in the headlights like planets cut loose from their orbits, doomed to chaos" (Animal 191).
"He looked at me, his eyes searching back and forth between my two pupils as if he were trying to decide which door concealed the prize" (Animal 183).
"Leaves and aborted fruits fell in thick, brittle handfuls like the hair of a cancer patient" (Animal 173).
"The picture slowly gives up its soul to him as it lies in the pan, like someone drowned at the bottom of the pool" (Animal 142).
"I kept turning my mind away from the one thought that kept coming back to me, persistent as an unwanted lover's hand, that I'd saved a life" (Animal 117).
"I know that a woman's ambitions aren't supposed to fall and rise and veer off course this way, like some poor bird caught in a storm" (Animal 107).
"The end was always curled up between us, like a sleeping cat, present even in our love-making" (Animal 105).
"Her eyes were pale as marbles" (Animal 105).
"Kissing Loyd was delicious, like some drug I wanted more of in spite of the Surgeon General's warning" (Animal 105).
"His family is a web of women dead and alive, with himself at the center like a spider, driven by different instincts. He lies mute, hearing only in the tactile way that a spider hears, touching the threads of the web with long extended fingertips and listening. Listening for trapped life" (Animal 98).
"The mother had been tortured and her eyes offered out that flatness, like a zoo animal" (Animal 93).
"I went home to read it, like a rat scurrying back to its hole with some edible prize" (Animal 86).
"Slowly it grew to a force as strong and untouchable as thunder" (51).
"Hallie thrived anyway--the blossom of our family, like the one of those miraculous fruit trees that taps into an invisible vein of nurture and bears radiant bushels of plums while the trees around it merely go on living" (Animal 49).
"I
stood still for a minute, giving Hallie's and my thoughts their last chance to run quietly over the wires, touching each other in secret signal as they passed, like a column of ants" (Animal 34)."I could see just how we'd look to somebody, hanging on to each other by the elbows: like two swimmers in trouble, both of us equally likely to drown" (Animal 31).
"His brain gets jostled and things move around inside his head like olives in a jar of brine" (Animal 20).
"Acacias lean into the river with their branches waving wildly in the current, like mothers reaching in for lost babies" (Animal 19).
"I tended to drift, like a well-meaning visitor to this planet awaiting instructions" (Animal 10).
"Hallie and I were so attached, like keenly mismatched Siamese twins conjoined at the back of the mind. We parted again and again and still each time it felt like a medical risk, as if we
were being liberated at some terrible cost: the price of a shared organ. We never stopped feeling that knife” (Animal 8).“His two girls are curled together like animals whose habit is to sleep underground, in the smallest space possible” (Animal 3)
~Father Nature, Editor
Thursday, May 7, 2009
Animal Dreams: Meticulous Metaphors: Rapacious Rivers
"The river won't flow for you no, no, no" wrote Jason Robert Brown in his album, "Songs For A New World." I wonder if Brown knew the significance of his lyrics as he wrote these words. The rivers present in Kingsolver’s mind definitely won’t flow for us, but rather of their own accord….
In Animal Dreams, Kingsolver uses a pretty straightforward idea of the pollution of our rivers and rainforests to assert a much more unusual claim. How could she create a deep metaphor using an idea that the everyday person thinks about? She’s Barbara Kingsolver, that’s how.
Before twisting our thinking, Kingsolver uses rivers with their everyday metaphor meaning: a
n obstacle. Homero has his own “river [that] he can’t cross,” and on the other side of it is his children” (Animal 4). This isn’t meant literally; it’s metaphor, so of course the idea should have more depth than the idea of crossing a road! Something about Homero’s personality distances him from connecting with others, even his own flesh and blood. Whether these are feelings of angst because of his wife’s death, narrowed and aimed toward his daughters, or whether he’s going through hard times since his daughters left him, we’ll never know. But nonetheless, his attitude toward them created a mental river that neither party wanted to attempt to cross, because they were both simply safer on their separate sides of the river.
The next image Kingsolver creates is that of Codi leaving her baby out along the creek bank, in a dream, during a time when the “creek is flooded, just roaring” (Animal 51). The creek of Grace increases in intimidation as Codi fears it has the power to lure her baby into its dark, wet depths.
But a dream is just a dream. Using Codi’s dream as a piece of evidence for this metaphor would ruin the data, right?
But Codi says herself that “there would be nothing new or surprising about a baby being born in secret and put into a creek,” which is true for all of the most depressing reasons (Animal 51). Even if Codi’s baby wasn’t left in a creek to die, I’ve heard horror storie
s or seen images of babies floating down a stream. The most popular, of course, being the story of Moses.
I think it can be agreed that a river is scariest when it is described as “a fierce river of mud and uprooted trees that won’t crest until dawn” (Animal 19). In fact, flooding has hit America hard in the past decade, with hurricanes manifesting more and more often. Yet, as we see when Kingsolver preaches her “go-green” message of this novel, a river can become “poison” the minute “sulfuric” is “put in the river” (Animal 63).
When a society, culture, or village is built around trees to the point that “when you have a family, you need trees,” they should be sacred (Animal 217). Any precious resource needs to be used sparingly, especially since the land can’t provide for humans forever. This is Kingsolver’s message with this metaphor. Our handy dandy work putting sulfuric acid into a river to leach it kills the land, and “the land has a memory. The lakes and the rivers are still hanging on to the DDT and every other insult we ever gave them. Lake Superior is a superior cesspool. The fish have cancer. The ocean is getting used up. The damn air is getting used up” (Animal 255). And we think that we can just waltz on by and water the trees from the river, but that would be “just like acid rain falling on them” (Animal 176).
Raymo, an oddball character in Hallie’s class brave enough to stand up to her, claims, “trees grow back” (Animal 254). This leads to Hallie’s, rather Kingsolver’s, sarcastic voice that I just
love: “Sure. Trees grow back. Even a whole rainforest could grow back, in a couple hundred years maybe” (Animal 255). Nobody is here that “will clean up the mess” if everyone’s “attitude stinks,” for the “world was put here for [us] to use” (Animal 254). The usage of the rivers of the world isn’t the problem; leaving our influence on them by first polluting the earth, then “damming the [rivers]” because they are “so polluted with acid” is the real problem (Animal 266). Who gave us the right to stroll across the universe with the mindset that it’s okay to harm whatever we touch? God? Adam and Eve? Buddha? The President?
“In a desert place” such as Grace, Arizona, “only the river ran continuously” (Animal 270). The land remembers, and “the river was Grace’s memory of water” (Animal 270). Rivers are larger than us. Sometimes things we think nothing more of than obstacles are things that were there before we were. We’re walking on the earth. We came second. We are all obstacles that this world needs to overcome. And, of course, we’re here to help the earth do exactly that.
~Father Nature, Editor
In Animal Dreams, Kingsolver uses a pretty straightforward idea of the pollution of our rivers and rainforests to assert a much more unusual claim. How could she create a deep metaphor using an idea that the everyday person thinks about? She’s Barbara Kingsolver, that’s how.
Before twisting our thinking, Kingsolver uses rivers with their everyday metaphor meaning: a
n obstacle. Homero has his own “river [that] he can’t cross,” and on the other side of it is his children” (Animal 4). This isn’t meant literally; it’s metaphor, so of course the idea should have more depth than the idea of crossing a road! Something about Homero’s personality distances him from connecting with others, even his own flesh and blood. Whether these are feelings of angst because of his wife’s death, narrowed and aimed toward his daughters, or whether he’s going through hard times since his daughters left him, we’ll never know. But nonetheless, his attitude toward them created a mental river that neither party wanted to attempt to cross, because they were both simply safer on their separate sides of the river.The next image Kingsolver creates is that of Codi leaving her baby out along the creek bank, in a dream, during a time when the “creek is flooded, just roaring” (Animal 51). The creek of Grace increases in intimidation as Codi fears it has the power to lure her baby into its dark, wet depths.
But a dream is just a dream. Using Codi’s dream as a piece of evidence for this metaphor would ruin the data, right?But Codi says herself that “there would be nothing new or surprising about a baby being born in secret and put into a creek,” which is true for all of the most depressing reasons (Animal 51). Even if Codi’s baby wasn’t left in a creek to die, I’ve heard horror storie
s or seen images of babies floating down a stream. The most popular, of course, being the story of Moses.I think it can be agreed that a river is scariest when it is described as “a fierce river of mud and uprooted trees that won’t crest until dawn” (Animal 19). In fact, flooding has hit America hard in the past decade, with hurricanes manifesting more and more often. Yet, as we see when Kingsolver preaches her “go-green” message of this novel, a river can become “poison” the minute “sulfuric” is “put in the river” (Animal 63).
When a society, culture, or village is built around trees to the point that “when you have a family, you need trees,” they should be sacred (Animal 217). Any precious resource needs to be used sparingly, especially since the land can’t provide for humans forever. This is Kingsolver’s message with this metaphor. Our handy dandy work putting sulfuric acid into a river to leach it kills the land, and “the land has a memory. The lakes and the rivers are still hanging on to the DDT and every other insult we ever gave them. Lake Superior is a superior cesspool. The fish have cancer. The ocean is getting used up. The damn air is getting used up” (Animal 255). And we think that we can just waltz on by and water the trees from the river, but that would be “just like acid rain falling on them” (Animal 176).
Raymo, an oddball character in Hallie’s class brave enough to stand up to her, claims, “trees grow back” (Animal 254). This leads to Hallie’s, rather Kingsolver’s, sarcastic voice that I just
love: “Sure. Trees grow back. Even a whole rainforest could grow back, in a couple hundred years maybe” (Animal 255). Nobody is here that “will clean up the mess” if everyone’s “attitude stinks,” for the “world was put here for [us] to use” (Animal 254). The usage of the rivers of the world isn’t the problem; leaving our influence on them by first polluting the earth, then “damming the [rivers]” because they are “so polluted with acid” is the real problem (Animal 266). Who gave us the right to stroll across the universe with the mindset that it’s okay to harm whatever we touch? God? Adam and Eve? Buddha? The President?“In a desert place” such as Grace, Arizona, “only the river ran continuously” (Animal 270). The land remembers, and “the river was Grace’s memory of water” (Animal 270). Rivers are larger than us. Sometimes things we think nothing more of than obstacles are things that were there before we were. We’re walking on the earth. We came second. We are all obstacles that this world needs to overcome. And, of course, we’re here to help the earth do exactly that.
~Father Nature, Editor
Wednesday, May 6, 2009
Animal Dreams: A Whole New World
Consider a broken toy left under the bed. Bugs need to crawl around it, even if it's an obstruction too heavy to handle. You feel it every time you reach under the bed, however you force yourself to ignore it.
This is exactly how I perceive America to be treating Nicaragua in this story, based on the thoughts of Cosima as she reads the letters written to her by Hallie. However, this isn't the world of the novel. Codi is in Grace, Arizona, with her father, Dr. Homero Noline. But Kingsolver ties the Civil War of Nicaragua into almost every chapter. We learn just as much about Hallie's lif
e in Nicaragua as Codi's life in Grace. Therefore, imagine a world with two dimensions. For that is what this novel features. Two anti-parallel worlds, one heading toward destruction while the other leads its inhabitants on a path of joy and peace.
Hallie is the sister living in chaos. I wouldn't be able to identify this as a Kingsolver novel without a sense of tragedy attached to it, and this time Kingsolver incorporates it without actually having the tragic character make an appearance. She went to Nicaragua "to save the crops" (Animal 30). However, "Hallie was headed for a war zone" (Animal 32). But she couldn't stop. It didn't matter to her if "no U.S. citizen could go there without expecting to be caught in crossfire," because she believes in what she's doing (Animal 271). I'm actually inspired by Hallie's determination to stay in Nicaragua, because her selflessness is rare.
However, is she being selfless or striving to be recognized as heroic by her sister? Imagine a
world where you know there is good to be done, but you must put yourself in danger every second of your life in order to do it. The rational thing to do would be to leave; there are other locations in need of an environmentalist. Hallie was aiming to be seen as a martyr! When she sees the "active-duty National Guards" shooting down at the Nicaraguans, she is scared, yet unshaken. Her determination is unhealthy. The only trap that can ensnare her is the one set by herself. Codi sees Hallie as "a loved one sending [her] truth from the trenches," and on a certain level, that's all Hallie is (Animal 199).
But how can Hallie put Codi in the position of distress over her life? Hallie must know how Codi feels about her, because she makes it clear in the way she writes and the way she speaks about Codi to others. There is no way Hallie could've hid her worry for Codi's safety from her. Hallie's selflessness is actually recklessness. In a world where one puts others ultimately first, one's own life is the most at risk. And that, for Codi, is the most traumatizing thing that could possibly happen.
While Codi's world revolves around her sister, and her sister's world is breaking into more p
ieces with every passing second, Codi has some stability in her world that her sister can't touch. The significant person in her life that has changed her world for the better would have to be Loyd Peregrina, the father of her baby that "he didn't even know about" (Animal 131). Codi takes one trademark of Hallie to heart: selflessness. Codi would do anything to keep the newly re-bonded relationships steady. She "didn't want [Loyd] to know how much of a mark his careless love had made on [her] life," how much of an impact he was on her (Animal 132). She would take the blame until the last second, living in a world where "everybody's got a secret" (Animal 92). Except, she is the only secret keeper, and everyone around her wants in on her secrets.
With Loyd waiting patiently on the wayside for her love, how else could Codi react? She obviously loved him once, for the baby they share meant something to her. While "a miscarriage is a natural and comment event," it is one that is completely unnatural to those uncommon with it. Namely everyone other than the mothers of stillborns. It's not a subject that Codi could've just suddenly spit out during a love-making
session with Loyd. She was walking on thin ice, with nothing but cold as death water waiting for her underneath, pounding against her bare feet to FALL.
FALL.
fall.
But it's enduring that feeling, keeping the "small impossible secret" for as long as possible, that saved Codi's relationship and brought her back to secure, solid ground (Animal 51). When she waits for that opportune moment, bringing Loyd to their child's gravesite, Kingsolver puts us on edge, waiting to see if Loyd will be the one to crack her ice and send her plummeting into a subzero grave of her own. Codi would lose her sense of self if Loyd wasn't accepting of the child. Codi's world was dependent on a single decision of another.
These two worlds, both alike in dignity, are anti-parallel because of their opposite lasting effects. Codi's life turns out positive, with that hint of despair coming from the parallel dimension, her sister's world. Hallie's life is "a train. Once it gets going it's heavier than heaven and hell p
ut together and it runs on its own track" and it will flatten everything in its path, including Codi. Codi has the power to "remain in the world, knowledgeable and serene," but Codi's train of desolation will be her utter downfall (Animal 309).
~Father Nature, Editor
This is exactly how I perceive America to be treating Nicaragua in this story, based on the thoughts of Cosima as she reads the letters written to her by Hallie. However, this isn't the world of the novel. Codi is in Grace, Arizona, with her father, Dr. Homero Noline. But Kingsolver ties the Civil War of Nicaragua into almost every chapter. We learn just as much about Hallie's lif
e in Nicaragua as Codi's life in Grace. Therefore, imagine a world with two dimensions. For that is what this novel features. Two anti-parallel worlds, one heading toward destruction while the other leads its inhabitants on a path of joy and peace.Hallie is the sister living in chaos. I wouldn't be able to identify this as a Kingsolver novel without a sense of tragedy attached to it, and this time Kingsolver incorporates it without actually having the tragic character make an appearance. She went to Nicaragua "to save the crops" (Animal 30). However, "Hallie was headed for a war zone" (Animal 32). But she couldn't stop. It didn't matter to her if "no U.S. citizen could go there without expecting to be caught in crossfire," because she believes in what she's doing (Animal 271). I'm actually inspired by Hallie's determination to stay in Nicaragua, because her selflessness is rare.
However, is she being selfless or striving to be recognized as heroic by her sister? Imagine a
world where you know there is good to be done, but you must put yourself in danger every second of your life in order to do it. The rational thing to do would be to leave; there are other locations in need of an environmentalist. Hallie was aiming to be seen as a martyr! When she sees the "active-duty National Guards" shooting down at the Nicaraguans, she is scared, yet unshaken. Her determination is unhealthy. The only trap that can ensnare her is the one set by herself. Codi sees Hallie as "a loved one sending [her] truth from the trenches," and on a certain level, that's all Hallie is (Animal 199).But how can Hallie put Codi in the position of distress over her life? Hallie must know how Codi feels about her, because she makes it clear in the way she writes and the way she speaks about Codi to others. There is no way Hallie could've hid her worry for Codi's safety from her. Hallie's selflessness is actually recklessness. In a world where one puts others ultimately first, one's own life is the most at risk. And that, for Codi, is the most traumatizing thing that could possibly happen.
While Codi's world revolves around her sister, and her sister's world is breaking into more p
ieces with every passing second, Codi has some stability in her world that her sister can't touch. The significant person in her life that has changed her world for the better would have to be Loyd Peregrina, the father of her baby that "he didn't even know about" (Animal 131). Codi takes one trademark of Hallie to heart: selflessness. Codi would do anything to keep the newly re-bonded relationships steady. She "didn't want [Loyd] to know how much of a mark his careless love had made on [her] life," how much of an impact he was on her (Animal 132). She would take the blame until the last second, living in a world where "everybody's got a secret" (Animal 92). Except, she is the only secret keeper, and everyone around her wants in on her secrets.With Loyd waiting patiently on the wayside for her love, how else could Codi react? She obviously loved him once, for the baby they share meant something to her. While "a miscarriage is a natural and comment event," it is one that is completely unnatural to those uncommon with it. Namely everyone other than the mothers of stillborns. It's not a subject that Codi could've just suddenly spit out during a love-making
session with Loyd. She was walking on thin ice, with nothing but cold as death water waiting for her underneath, pounding against her bare feet to FALL.FALL.
fall.
But it's enduring that feeling, keeping the "small impossible secret" for as long as possible, that saved Codi's relationship and brought her back to secure, solid ground (Animal 51). When she waits for that opportune moment, bringing Loyd to their child's gravesite, Kingsolver puts us on edge, waiting to see if Loyd will be the one to crack her ice and send her plummeting into a subzero grave of her own. Codi would lose her sense of self if Loyd wasn't accepting of the child. Codi's world was dependent on a single decision of another.
These two worlds, both alike in dignity, are anti-parallel because of their opposite lasting effects. Codi's life turns out positive, with that hint of despair coming from the parallel dimension, her sister's world. Hallie's life is "a train. Once it gets going it's heavier than heaven and hell p
ut together and it runs on its own track" and it will flatten everything in its path, including Codi. Codi has the power to "remain in the world, knowledgeable and serene," but Codi's train of desolation will be her utter downfall (Animal 309).~Father Nature, Editor
Tuesday, May 5, 2009
Animal Dreams: Particularly Philosophical
In this novel, Kingsolver pulls out all the stops. Both one-liner philosophical messages and extended philosophical and psychological beauty are portrayed by Kingsolver in this grand finale of a novel for my blog.
While one-liner's may seem insignificant, surface-level thoughts like these are what makes most people "ooh" and "ahh" as they think deeper. These moments of "deep thought" lead to the deeper, more extensive philosophical messages that will silence a reader, which is necessary for the reader to reflect to try to see the connection with his or her personal life and with the philosophy.
With that said, I will list some significant 'one-line' philosophical ideas straight from Ba
rbara's mouth, and let them speak for themselves, for once....
"love weighs nothing" (Animal 335).
"Family constellations are fixed things. They don’t change just because you’ve learned the names of the stars” (Animal 328).
“Words only cover the experience of living” (Animal 325).
“So much of life is animal instinct: desire and yawning and fear and the will to live” (Animal 319).
"...people worry a lot more about the eternity after their deaths than the eternity that happened before they were born. But it’s the same amount of infinity, rolling out in all directions from where we stand” (Animal 317).
"If you’re dead when somebody stabs you, you don’t feel it” (Animal 309).
“Pain reaches the heart with electrical speed, but truth moves to the heart as slowly as a glacier” (Animal 286).
“
It’s surprising how much of memory is built around things unnoticed at the time” (Animal 280).
“I wished I could bottle that passion for accomplishment and squeeze out some of the elixir, a drop at a time, on my high school students. They would move mountains” (Animal 273).
"...when you’re happy and in love and content with your life you can’t remember how you ever could have felt cheated by fate” (Animal 269).
"The greatest honor you can give a house is to let it fall back down into the ground" (Animal 235).
"What keeps you going isn’t some fine destination but just the road you’re on, and the fact that you know how to drive" (Animal 224).
“You can’t let your heart go bad like that, like sour milk. There’s always the chance you’ll want to use it later” (Animal 223).
“We’re all scared to be too happy about what we’ve got, for fear somebody’ll notice and take it away" (Animal 220).
"What you lose in blindness is the space around you, the place where you are, and without that you might not exist. You could be nowhere at all” (Animal 204).
“If I kept trying to be what everybody wanted, I’d soon be insipid enough to fit in everywhe
re” (Animal 201).
“I laughed, since the other choice was to cry” (Animal 183).
"...hope for nothing at all in the way of love, so as not to be disappointed" (Animal 117).
“Poverty in a beautiful place seemed not so much oppressive as sublime” (Animal 107).
“If I could have drawn blood, if I’d known how to do that with words instead of a needle, I would have" (Animal 61).
“…children robbed of love will dwell on magic” (Animal 50).
“Memory is a complicated thing, a relative to truth but not its twin” (Animal 48).
"Mountains don’t move. They only look changed when you look down on them from a great height” (Animal 36).
“People change…not everything stays with you all your life” (Animal 31).
With those philosophies read to prepare your mind, this upcoming idea will soak in like water into a sponge: Living to honor someone
else's life will get you nowhere in life.
With the philosophy stated, as a sort of summary of the novel's many philosophies, you may not want to continue reading this post. However, the stated philosophy is the deepest level of thinking. To see the steps that led me to that conclusion, continue reading this post.
Hallie is a recurring theme of Codi's speech. Even her Dad's apathetic, out-of-the-loop eyes noticed, pretty early on, that "Cosima knows she's the older, even when she's unconscious" (Animal 3). Codi is "the sister who didn't go to war," and while she claims she "can only tell... [her] side of the story," she tries and tries to tell Hallie's, too (Animal 7). Her sentences about her past almost always use "Hallie and I" as the subject, versus a singular "I" (Animal 8). Readers learn countless things about Hallie, such as the fact that she "had such a soft heart" and that "she'd cry if she stepped on a bug" (Animal 29). It's almost as if Codi lives to tell Hallie's tale. And that's all she ever does. I will elaborate on Hallie's world in another post, but the matter to grasp now is that Codi has let every tribulation of Hallie's become one for herself. Codi can't live a full life knowing every single detail about Hallie's,
however she would probably die of grief if she didn't know everything.
Codi calls her life a "pitiful, mechanical thing without a past" (Animal 199). And it's true, because for some odd reason, she can't remember simple acts about her past in Grace, such as the "directions to [her] own home" (Animal 47). What is the cause of this case of amnesia? I doubt physical head trauma, since Codi doesn't mention that. Therefore it must be something internal. Something we can't see with the plain eye. Codi had "never drawn a breath [in Grace] without Hallie" (Animal 45). Perhaps Codi doesn't think she can do it. She has a psychological barrier between herself and Grace, and only Hallie can take that barrier down. With her guard up, almost nothing can penetrate it, and this is why Hallie has "forgotten" so much about her hometown.
Without going into detail about Grace, I hope you fully understand Kingsolver's home-hitting message: Live everyday for you. Don't dwell on the details of someone else's life over those that are your own.
~Father Nature, Editor
While one-liner's may seem insignificant, surface-level thoughts like these are what makes most people "ooh" and "ahh" as they think deeper. These moments of "deep thought" lead to the deeper, more extensive philosophical messages that will silence a reader, which is necessary for the reader to reflect to try to see the connection with his or her personal life and with the philosophy.
With that said, I will list some significant 'one-line' philosophical ideas straight from Ba
rbara's mouth, and let them speak for themselves, for once...."love weighs nothing" (Animal 335).
"Family constellations are fixed things. They don’t change just because you’ve learned the names of the stars” (Animal 328).
“Words only cover the experience of living” (Animal 325).
“So much of life is animal instinct: desire and yawning and fear and the will to live” (Animal 319).
"...people worry a lot more about the eternity after their deaths than the eternity that happened before they were born. But it’s the same amount of infinity, rolling out in all directions from where we stand” (Animal 317).
"If you’re dead when somebody stabs you, you don’t feel it” (Animal 309).
“Pain reaches the heart with electrical speed, but truth moves to the heart as slowly as a glacier” (Animal 286).
“
It’s surprising how much of memory is built around things unnoticed at the time” (Animal 280).“I wished I could bottle that passion for accomplishment and squeeze out some of the elixir, a drop at a time, on my high school students. They would move mountains” (Animal 273).
"...when you’re happy and in love and content with your life you can’t remember how you ever could have felt cheated by fate” (Animal 269).
"The greatest honor you can give a house is to let it fall back down into the ground" (Animal 235).
"What keeps you going isn’t some fine destination but just the road you’re on, and the fact that you know how to drive" (Animal 224).
“You can’t let your heart go bad like that, like sour milk. There’s always the chance you’ll want to use it later” (Animal 223).
“We’re all scared to be too happy about what we’ve got, for fear somebody’ll notice and take it away" (Animal 220).
"What you lose in blindness is the space around you, the place where you are, and without that you might not exist. You could be nowhere at all” (Animal 204).
“If I kept trying to be what everybody wanted, I’d soon be insipid enough to fit in everywhe
re” (Animal 201).“I laughed, since the other choice was to cry” (Animal 183).
"...hope for nothing at all in the way of love, so as not to be disappointed" (Animal 117).
“Poverty in a beautiful place seemed not so much oppressive as sublime” (Animal 107).
“If I could have drawn blood, if I’d known how to do that with words instead of a needle, I would have" (Animal 61).
“…children robbed of love will dwell on magic” (Animal 50).
“Memory is a complicated thing, a relative to truth but not its twin” (Animal 48).
"Mountains don’t move. They only look changed when you look down on them from a great height” (Animal 36).
“People change…not everything stays with you all your life” (Animal 31).
With those philosophies read to prepare your mind, this upcoming idea will soak in like water into a sponge: Living to honor someone
else's life will get you nowhere in life.With the philosophy stated, as a sort of summary of the novel's many philosophies, you may not want to continue reading this post. However, the stated philosophy is the deepest level of thinking. To see the steps that led me to that conclusion, continue reading this post.
Hallie is a recurring theme of Codi's speech. Even her Dad's apathetic, out-of-the-loop eyes noticed, pretty early on, that "Cosima knows she's the older, even when she's unconscious" (Animal 3). Codi is "the sister who didn't go to war," and while she claims she "can only tell... [her] side of the story," she tries and tries to tell Hallie's, too (Animal 7). Her sentences about her past almost always use "Hallie and I" as the subject, versus a singular "I" (Animal 8). Readers learn countless things about Hallie, such as the fact that she "had such a soft heart" and that "she'd cry if she stepped on a bug" (Animal 29). It's almost as if Codi lives to tell Hallie's tale. And that's all she ever does. I will elaborate on Hallie's world in another post, but the matter to grasp now is that Codi has let every tribulation of Hallie's become one for herself. Codi can't live a full life knowing every single detail about Hallie's,
however she would probably die of grief if she didn't know everything.Codi calls her life a "pitiful, mechanical thing without a past" (Animal 199). And it's true, because for some odd reason, she can't remember simple acts about her past in Grace, such as the "directions to [her] own home" (Animal 47). What is the cause of this case of amnesia? I doubt physical head trauma, since Codi doesn't mention that. Therefore it must be something internal. Something we can't see with the plain eye. Codi had "never drawn a breath [in Grace] without Hallie" (Animal 45). Perhaps Codi doesn't think she can do it. She has a psychological barrier between herself and Grace, and only Hallie can take that barrier down. With her guard up, almost nothing can penetrate it, and this is why Hallie has "forgotten" so much about her hometown.
Without going into detail about Grace, I hope you fully understand Kingsolver's home-hitting message: Live everyday for you. Don't dwell on the details of someone else's life over those that are your own.
~Father Nature, Editor
Monday, May 4, 2009
Pigs In Heaven: Stunning Similes
“This dawns on her with the unkindness of a heart attack and she sits up in bed to get a closer look at her thoughts, which have collected above her in the dark” (Pigs 3).
"Flapping to stay balanced, he makes the long branch bob and sway like a carnival ride” (Pigs 6).
“Aloneness is her inheritance, like the deep heartline that breaks into match sticks across her
palm” (Pigs 23).
"Jax’s adoration is like the gift of a huge, scuffling white rabbit held up at arms length for her to take. Or a European vacation. Something you can never give back” (Pigs 31).
“The words ‘a more friendly meeting of minds’ are smacking like angry pent-up bees against the inside of her head” (Pigs 78).
“A stewardess is coming slowly down the aisle taking people’s plastic cups away, like a patient mother removing toys her babies might try to swallow” (Pigs 127).
“After the van had come to a respectable standstill, the dog simply got up and walked back to the rear of the van, making Taylor feel terrible, the way people do when you step on their toes and they sigh but don’t say a word” (Pigs 199).
“They look like birds trying to fly against a hurricane” (Pigs 250).
“She can feel sadness rising off him in waves, the way you feel heat from a child with a fever” (Pigs 254).
“I’ve seen babies carried off with no more thought than you’d give a bag of brown sugar you picked up at the market” (Pigs 284).
“She stares at the symmetrical rows of holes in the metal back of the telephone hutch. Her life feels exactly that meaningless” (Pigs 291).
“Alice hovers for a moment the way a female dragonfly will, before committing her future, laying her eggs on the water. Finally she plunges. Sits and takes off her shoes” (Pigs 311).
“Since her arrival in Oklahoma, she has felt her color as a kind of noticeable heat rising off her skin, something like a light bulb mistakenly left on and burning in a roomful of people who might disapprove” (Pigs 318).
~Father Nature, Editor
"Flapping to stay balanced, he makes the long branch bob and sway like a carnival ride” (Pigs 6).
“Aloneness is her inheritance, like the deep heartline that breaks into match sticks across her
palm” (Pigs 23)."Jax’s adoration is like the gift of a huge, scuffling white rabbit held up at arms length for her to take. Or a European vacation. Something you can never give back” (Pigs 31).
“The words ‘a more friendly meeting of minds’ are smacking like angry pent-up bees against the inside of her head” (Pigs 78).
“A stewardess is coming slowly down the aisle taking people’s plastic cups away, like a patient mother removing toys her babies might try to swallow” (Pigs 127).
“After the van had come to a respectable standstill, the dog simply got up and walked back to the rear of the van, making Taylor feel terrible, the way people do when you step on their toes and they sigh but don’t say a word” (Pigs 199).
“They look like birds trying to fly against a hurricane” (Pigs 250).
“She can feel sadness rising off him in waves, the way you feel heat from a child with a fever” (Pigs 254).
“I’ve seen babies carried off with no more thought than you’d give a bag of brown sugar you picked up at the market” (Pigs 284).
“She stares at the symmetrical rows of holes in the metal back of the telephone hutch. Her life feels exactly that meaningless” (Pigs 291).“Alice hovers for a moment the way a female dragonfly will, before committing her future, laying her eggs on the water. Finally she plunges. Sits and takes off her shoes” (Pigs 311).
“Since her arrival in Oklahoma, she has felt her color as a kind of noticeable heat rising off her skin, something like a light bulb mistakenly left on and burning in a roomful of people who might disapprove” (Pigs 318).
~Father Nature, Editor
Sunday, May 3, 2009
Pigs In Heaven: Meticulous Metaphors: Weather Watchers
Is there a difference in depth-possibility when it comes to rain and the weather in general?
I have discussed, in a previous post, Kingsolver's metaphor of rain. Storms, hail, snow, mist, drizzle, rain. However, in Pigs In Heaven, Kingsolver is much more of a Mother Nature than before. She takes on the entire weather scheme with this sky-covering metaphor. I've already stated (previous blog, once again) how Kingsolver uses rain metaphor: ambiance. The weather is the background to our lives, and as such, it is well-fitting for it to be a metaphor for the ambiance of situations. The environment is Kingsolver's playground as she though up this metaphor, and I will be the thoughtful mage to decipher every weather pattern. Here we go.
First off, and kind of a repeat, are storm clouds. You can see that when I discussed rain, I mentioned rain was sometimes used as a foreshadowing for troublesome events. After some thought, Kingsolver made this metaphor clearer. By that I allude to the fact that this book was written after Prodigal Summer. Here, she puts storms in dialogue very often, having one character look if "that storm is coming in" (Pigs 118). Storms are usually signs of bad weather,
however the character that saw the storm coming mentioned that "[they] need some rain," that "[they] haven't had rain in a long time" (Pigs 119). Whether the rain they had a long time ago was beneficial or detrimental, we don't know, but we do know that the people of the Cherokee reservation were looking forward to this storm cloud's rain. They were looking forward to whatever the future brought them. This goes to show what kind of personalities they have: open-minded, optimistic, and wishful.
Now please bear with me as I struggle to separate a thunderstorm from a rainstorm. After looking back at my notes on the novel, Kingsolver only used rain and storms and thunder and lighting as real metaphors. While interestingly mentioning drought, hot desert weather, and the nourishing sun, she never dwells on these things. What she doesn't fail to mention is that "once a turtle bites you, it doesn't let go .... till it thunders" (Pigs 104). Thunder, with all of its might, can ruin even the prettiest picture. And even worse, it may come out of nowhere, at the slightest of an opportune moment.
When in the car, during a storm, "Taylor and Turtle flinch" when thunder strikes, rumbling as it inches towards passing the sound barrier (Pigs 105). Turtle, as you may remember, kept her nickname because of her attachment with Taylor. The steel grip the two have when holding on to each other is infrangible. The thunder, however, is the only thing that could pull them apart. Thunder comes in the form of heritage, in this novel. Indeed, weather has made a connection to the Cherokee reservation. No good came from the thunder, from the eyes of Taylor Greer, who wanted no less than to walk away from the situation with a daughter whom she raised. However, the benefit of the doubt lies with the law, and the law of the Cherokee reservation was clear. Joint custody was a blessing, was it not? Turtle wasn't ripped from Taylor's grasps, because she has partial custody, right?
The thunder strikes and BOOOOM Turtle is in the hands of another man, Cash Stillwater. The thunder strikes and BOOOOM Taylor is fighting for custody over Turtle. The thunder strikes a third time and BOOOOM Turtle likes it when she isn't clasping onto Taylor.
Thunder can be shocking, thunder can be moving. In this case, the thunder was splitting, piercing, and heart-breaking.
~Father Nature, Editor
I have discussed, in a previous post, Kingsolver's metaphor of rain. Storms, hail, snow, mist, drizzle, rain. However, in Pigs In Heaven, Kingsolver is much more of a Mother Nature than before. She takes on the entire weather scheme with this sky-covering metaphor. I've already stated (previous blog, once again) how Kingsolver uses rain metaphor: ambiance. The weather is the background to our lives, and as such, it is well-fitting for it to be a metaphor for the ambiance of situations. The environment is Kingsolver's playground as she though up this metaphor, and I will be the thoughtful mage to decipher every weather pattern. Here we go.
First off, and kind of a repeat, are storm clouds. You can see that when I discussed rain, I mentioned rain was sometimes used as a foreshadowing for troublesome events. After some thought, Kingsolver made this metaphor clearer. By that I allude to the fact that this book was written after Prodigal Summer. Here, she puts storms in dialogue very often, having one character look if "that storm is coming in" (Pigs 118). Storms are usually signs of bad weather,
however the character that saw the storm coming mentioned that "[they] need some rain," that "[they] haven't had rain in a long time" (Pigs 119). Whether the rain they had a long time ago was beneficial or detrimental, we don't know, but we do know that the people of the Cherokee reservation were looking forward to this storm cloud's rain. They were looking forward to whatever the future brought them. This goes to show what kind of personalities they have: open-minded, optimistic, and wishful.Now please bear with me as I struggle to separate a thunderstorm from a rainstorm. After looking back at my notes on the novel, Kingsolver only used rain and storms and thunder and lighting as real metaphors. While interestingly mentioning drought, hot desert weather, and the nourishing sun, she never dwells on these things. What she doesn't fail to mention is that "once a turtle bites you, it doesn't let go .... till it thunders" (Pigs 104). Thunder, with all of its might, can ruin even the prettiest picture. And even worse, it may come out of nowhere, at the slightest of an opportune moment.
When in the car, during a storm, "Taylor and Turtle flinch" when thunder strikes, rumbling as it inches towards passing the sound barrier (Pigs 105). Turtle, as you may remember, kept her nickname because of her attachment with Taylor. The steel grip the two have when holding on to each other is infrangible. The thunder, however, is the only thing that could pull them apart. Thunder comes in the form of heritage, in this novel. Indeed, weather has made a connection to the Cherokee reservation. No good came from the thunder, from the eyes of Taylor Greer, who wanted no less than to walk away from the situation with a daughter whom she raised. However, the benefit of the doubt lies with the law, and the law of the Cherokee reservation was clear. Joint custody was a blessing, was it not? Turtle wasn't ripped from Taylor's grasps, because she has partial custody, right?The thunder strikes and BOOOOM Turtle is in the hands of another man, Cash Stillwater. The thunder strikes and BOOOOM Taylor is fighting for custody over Turtle. The thunder strikes a third time and BOOOOM Turtle likes it when she isn't clasping onto Taylor.
Thunder can be shocking, thunder can be moving. In this case, the thunder was splitting, piercing, and heart-breaking.
~Father Nature, Editor
Saturday, May 2, 2009
Pigs In Heaven: Particularly Philosophical
Kingsolver should be given an award or a degree in philosophy, and fast!
Her work in this novel regarding underlying philosophy is extraordinary! She definitely surpassed the high bar of standard set by her previous novels, philosophically, with Pigs In Heaven. The events, characters, and emotions she has written for us ties in and leads to an inferred final philosophy. That philosophy will be revealed at the end of this post.
To start, Turtle is a little girl with a lot of mystery stuffed into her. Her "luminous" black eyes portray so much depth as the novel continues that they mesmerize me when I imagine them (Pigs 15). Her serious face, I guess you could call it, should never be taken for granted, nor misunderstood. Her somber eyes are black holes which lead to places all but pleasant. Her way
of reacting to troubling situations is to return to this dour disposition. At one point, when Taylor was observing Turtle's eyes, "she [knew] Turtle [was] in there but the blank, dark windows [were] glossed over like loveless eyes, revealing nothing" (Pigs 292). They say that eyes are windows to the heart. Well, if Turtle's eyes were blank and dark, I'm sure you can deduce the rest of Kingsolver's imagery....
However, Turtle isn't a completely gloomy girl! In fact, it's Taylor whose "heart is an empty canyon," even at the end of the novel (Pigs 341). It's Taylor who calls herself "loveless, hopeless, [and] blind" (Pigs 320). Turtle is the one who can find joy after the most glum situations. What could be the cause of this role switch?
The answer is Turtle. Turtle, who has "been marked in life by a great many things" leaves her mark on Taylor (Pigs 12). Not in a negative way, either. No, Taylor loves Turtle, and Turtle "hasn't deliberately let go of Taylor since they met" (Pigs 14). So when Taylor was stripped of this enigmatic little girl, she became exactly what she was missing.
The next character, whom I feel I must discuss, is one who's impact on the other characters isn't set in stone. This is because her character is as slippery and deceiving as a snake. The sad part is that if what she represents, rather if what her namesake represents, has any snake-like qualities, our country is in grave danger.
Barbie.
Indeed, the controversial, teeter-tottering child's toy has found her way into both Kingsolver's novel and my post on how her novel is philosophical. Barbie is a character who unsuspectedly slips into the life of Turtle and Taylor Greer. Her intentions and thoughts silent, Taylor allows her to tag along with them. The way she dresses and speaks follows her idol's mannerisms, and her manager at the Vegas restaurant she worked at just couldn't take it anymore. He just so happened to fire her at the time when Taylor and Turtle visited the restaurant.
However, I don't fear for the "model representation" of American women because of how unstable her personality is, complete with her "relationsihp with the bathroom ... every time she eats something" (Pigs 161). Yes, she has the eating disorder known as bulimia. Barbie is a character to fear because Taylor found "silver dollars. Hundreds of them, in the silk-lined cave of Barbie's black purse" (Pigs 167). The purse that she kept with her at all times was so valuable because of exactly that: it's high value. Barbie, the representation of the ideal American girl, was a thief.
Before tying it all together, I'd like to introduce one more event. Alice, Taylor's mom, is lured into the Cherokee reservation by a love interest named Cash Stillwater. Of course, Annawake Fourkiller, the lawyer trying to find Turtle, played Cupid for this relationship. Alice goes to the reservation with low hopes, but soon, "for the first time she can remember, Alice feels completely included" (Pigs 271). She actually has family there, real family, because her
"Grandmother Stamper was full-blooded" (Pigs 267). She finds a connection with the Cherokee, her long-lost people of sorts, and is changed 'for the better' while spending time there. However, she must sign a paper in order to reinstate herself as a member of that Cherokee reservation. Nevertheless, Alice shows us that stubbornness can disappear, and that old assumptions can be dissuaded.
So what's the grand philosophy that I have inferred Kingsolver had in mind while writing the novel, that is exemplified by these things? It's the idea that people have the power to change both themselves and others, and that no assumption can ever be set in stone.
~Father Nature, Editor
Her work in this novel regarding underlying philosophy is extraordinary! She definitely surpassed the high bar of standard set by her previous novels, philosophically, with Pigs In Heaven. The events, characters, and emotions she has written for us ties in and leads to an inferred final philosophy. That philosophy will be revealed at the end of this post.
To start, Turtle is a little girl with a lot of mystery stuffed into her. Her "luminous" black eyes portray so much depth as the novel continues that they mesmerize me when I imagine them (Pigs 15). Her serious face, I guess you could call it, should never be taken for granted, nor misunderstood. Her somber eyes are black holes which lead to places all but pleasant. Her way
of reacting to troubling situations is to return to this dour disposition. At one point, when Taylor was observing Turtle's eyes, "she [knew] Turtle [was] in there but the blank, dark windows [were] glossed over like loveless eyes, revealing nothing" (Pigs 292). They say that eyes are windows to the heart. Well, if Turtle's eyes were blank and dark, I'm sure you can deduce the rest of Kingsolver's imagery....However, Turtle isn't a completely gloomy girl! In fact, it's Taylor whose "heart is an empty canyon," even at the end of the novel (Pigs 341). It's Taylor who calls herself "loveless, hopeless, [and] blind" (Pigs 320). Turtle is the one who can find joy after the most glum situations. What could be the cause of this role switch?
The answer is Turtle. Turtle, who has "been marked in life by a great many things" leaves her mark on Taylor (Pigs 12). Not in a negative way, either. No, Taylor loves Turtle, and Turtle "hasn't deliberately let go of Taylor since they met" (Pigs 14). So when Taylor was stripped of this enigmatic little girl, she became exactly what she was missing.
The next character, whom I feel I must discuss, is one who's impact on the other characters isn't set in stone. This is because her character is as slippery and deceiving as a snake. The sad part is that if what she represents, rather if what her namesake represents, has any snake-like qualities, our country is in grave danger.
Barbie.
Indeed, the controversial, teeter-tottering child's toy has found her way into both Kingsolver's novel and my post on how her novel is philosophical. Barbie is a character who unsuspectedly slips into the life of Turtle and Taylor Greer. Her intentions and thoughts silent, Taylor allows her to tag along with them. The way she dresses and speaks follows her idol's mannerisms, and her manager at the Vegas restaurant she worked at just couldn't take it anymore. He just so happened to fire her at the time when Taylor and Turtle visited the restaurant.
However, I don't fear for the "model representation" of American women because of how unstable her personality is, complete with her "relationsihp with the bathroom ... every time she eats something" (Pigs 161). Yes, she has the eating disorder known as bulimia. Barbie is a character to fear because Taylor found "silver dollars. Hundreds of them, in the silk-lined cave of Barbie's black purse" (Pigs 167). The purse that she kept with her at all times was so valuable because of exactly that: it's high value. Barbie, the representation of the ideal American girl, was a thief.
Before tying it all together, I'd like to introduce one more event. Alice, Taylor's mom, is lured into the Cherokee reservation by a love interest named Cash Stillwater. Of course, Annawake Fourkiller, the lawyer trying to find Turtle, played Cupid for this relationship. Alice goes to the reservation with low hopes, but soon, "for the first time she can remember, Alice feels completely included" (Pigs 271). She actually has family there, real family, because her
"Grandmother Stamper was full-blooded" (Pigs 267). She finds a connection with the Cherokee, her long-lost people of sorts, and is changed 'for the better' while spending time there. However, she must sign a paper in order to reinstate herself as a member of that Cherokee reservation. Nevertheless, Alice shows us that stubbornness can disappear, and that old assumptions can be dissuaded.So what's the grand philosophy that I have inferred Kingsolver had in mind while writing the novel, that is exemplified by these things? It's the idea that people have the power to change both themselves and others, and that no assumption can ever be set in stone.
~Father Nature, Editor
Friday, May 1, 2009
Pigs In Heaven: A Whole New World
Being the sequel of The Bean Trees, Kingsolver's Pigs In Heaven features the same principal characters in the same world. The crisis is the same, however with different characters putting the stress on the equilibrium of Taylor and Turtle Greer. As Taylor "grips her daughter's arm ... protectively," she can't help but recall that "this child is the miracle [she] wouldn't have let in the 
door if it had knocked" (Pigs 10).
Turtle is an example of things that come into our lives, intrude into our worlds, when we are in no position to deny entry. It doesn't matter if the intruder is a benefit or a deficit to the world, it must be welcomed with open arms, simply to encourage that possibility of it being beneficial.
In this case, Turtle's "snap-jawed grip is a principle of [her] relationship" with Taylor; "she hasn't deliberately let go of Taylor since they met" (Pigs 14). Love is the obvious word, necessity being the subtler, more accurate one.
However, Taylor is being hunted. Annawake Fourkiller, a lawyer of the Cherokee Nation, is convinced that Taylor "was trying to take a Cherokee kid out of the Nation" (Pigs 57). Living in a time when "people like [her]" need to "watch out for the kids" in the tribe because of the social-service standards (Pigs 57). Turtle's earlier line of "legacy" is supposed to
ensure her safety, her place in the tribe (Pigs 89). Annawake's determination to 'rescue' Turtle clashes and clangs with the strength of Taylor's bond with Turtle in this custody triangle.
So who's right? With the both of the protagonists of the novel being "heroes" of their own kind, who is the audience supposed to side with (Pigs 160)? Taylor is an example of those mommies who would "throw themselves in front of traffic or gunfire to save their offspring," who puts themselves "second, every time, no questions asked" (Pigs 155). However Annawake is abiding by the law of her reservation, and trying to ensure others are, too. They are both striving to make a significantly positive influence on someone else's life. Yet they are acting in opposition to one another.
While Kingsolver could have easily made this feud last the entire book, "it's peacefulness that is hard to come by on purpose" (Pigs 224). If Taylor and Annawake met and discussed their differences to come to a conclusion, it would be that inimitable, paramount, and anti-climactic ending that author's strive to achieve.
Taylor's travels take her and Turtle to the Indian Reservation, ready to confront Annawake Fourkiller and settle what needs to be settled. There, she enters a world usually unbeknown to the rest of civilization, a world where "you don't have to bother much with pretending you're not poor" (Pigs 229). A world that's "not like some country club or something. It's just family. It's kindly like joining the church. If you get around to deciding you're Cherokee ... then that's what you are" (Pigs 271). A world that needed the 1978 Indian Child Welfare Act just to insure guarantee the protection of their
children from the American government. Kingsolver depicts the world of the Cherokee after the "Trail of Tears" that "happened in 1838" (Pigs 281). In this world of newly made rules, overprotection, and dynamic culture, Taylor is pushed to extend her family such that she must "[share] Turtle with strangers" (Pigs 339). She finds it difficult, as any new mother would, but it's a struggle that she must endure for the sake of her bond with Turtle.
This world depicts the ideal life perfectly.
Without spoiling what happens to Turtle and Taylor and Annawake, I hope that I've stressed the message depicted by the setting of this novel: the world we live in is crucial to the results of the events that we partake in.
~Father Nature, Editor
door if it had knocked" (Pigs 10).Turtle is an example of things that come into our lives, intrude into our worlds, when we are in no position to deny entry. It doesn't matter if the intruder is a benefit or a deficit to the world, it must be welcomed with open arms, simply to encourage that possibility of it being beneficial.
In this case, Turtle's "snap-jawed grip is a principle of [her] relationship" with Taylor; "she hasn't deliberately let go of Taylor since they met" (Pigs 14). Love is the obvious word, necessity being the subtler, more accurate one.
However, Taylor is being hunted. Annawake Fourkiller, a lawyer of the Cherokee Nation, is convinced that Taylor "was trying to take a Cherokee kid out of the Nation" (Pigs 57). Living in a time when "people like [her]" need to "watch out for the kids" in the tribe because of the social-service standards (Pigs 57). Turtle's earlier line of "legacy" is supposed to
ensure her safety, her place in the tribe (Pigs 89). Annawake's determination to 'rescue' Turtle clashes and clangs with the strength of Taylor's bond with Turtle in this custody triangle.So who's right? With the both of the protagonists of the novel being "heroes" of their own kind, who is the audience supposed to side with (Pigs 160)? Taylor is an example of those mommies who would "throw themselves in front of traffic or gunfire to save their offspring," who puts themselves "second, every time, no questions asked" (Pigs 155). However Annawake is abiding by the law of her reservation, and trying to ensure others are, too. They are both striving to make a significantly positive influence on someone else's life. Yet they are acting in opposition to one another.
While Kingsolver could have easily made this feud last the entire book, "it's peacefulness that is hard to come by on purpose" (Pigs 224). If Taylor and Annawake met and discussed their differences to come to a conclusion, it would be that inimitable, paramount, and anti-climactic ending that author's strive to achieve.
Taylor's travels take her and Turtle to the Indian Reservation, ready to confront Annawake Fourkiller and settle what needs to be settled. There, she enters a world usually unbeknown to the rest of civilization, a world where "you don't have to bother much with pretending you're not poor" (Pigs 229). A world that's "not like some country club or something. It's just family. It's kindly like joining the church. If you get around to deciding you're Cherokee ... then that's what you are" (Pigs 271). A world that needed the 1978 Indian Child Welfare Act just to insure guarantee the protection of their
children from the American government. Kingsolver depicts the world of the Cherokee after the "Trail of Tears" that "happened in 1838" (Pigs 281). In this world of newly made rules, overprotection, and dynamic culture, Taylor is pushed to extend her family such that she must "[share] Turtle with strangers" (Pigs 339). She finds it difficult, as any new mother would, but it's a struggle that she must endure for the sake of her bond with Turtle.This world depicts the ideal life perfectly.
Without spoiling what happens to Turtle and Taylor and Annawake, I hope that I've stressed the message depicted by the setting of this novel: the world we live in is crucial to the results of the events that we partake in.
~Father Nature, Editor
Thursday, April 30, 2009
The Bean Trees: Stunning Similes
“Believe me in those days the girls were dropping by the wayside like seeds off a poppyseed bun” (Bean 3).
“The clouds were pink and fat and hilarious-looking, like the hippo ballerinas in a Disney movie” (Bean 35).
“She felt like such a sneak, letting on as though her marriage was just fine. It was like presenting her mother and grandmother with a pretty Christmas package to take back with them, but nothing but tissue paper inside” (Bean 56).
“He could be there, or not, and it hardly made a difference. Like a bug or a mouse scratching in the cupboards at night—you could get up and chase after it, or just go back to sleep and let it be. This was good, she decided” (Bean 63).
“On TV I saw them pulling the bodies out frozen stiff with their knees and arms bent like thos
e little plastic cowboys that are supposed to be riding horses, but they when you lose the horse they’re useless” (Bean 74-75).“We were flattened and sprawled across the rocks like a troop of lizards stoned on the sun, feeling too good to move” (Bean 91).
"It’s hard to explain, but a certain kind of horror is beyond tears. Tears would be like worrying about watermarks on the furniture when the house is burning down" (Bean 136).
“…the residue of Red Hot Mama had a way of sticking around, as pesty and persistent as a chaperone at a high school dance” (Bean 151).
“Sadness is more like a head cold—with patience, it passes. Depression is like cancer” (Bean 173).
~Father Nature, Editor
Wednesday, April 29, 2009
The Bean Trees: Meticulous Metaphors: Bustling Birds
Can you truly domesticate a bird? After years of incarceration, would a bird want to stay in its cage, had the owner opened the door for it to fly off? However, is there a proper way of caring for a creature we shouldn't "own" in the first place? Do birds ever need or want our help, even when close to death?
Oddly enough, I find that Kingsolver's answer to these questions would be yes, based off of her words in this novel. I thought that a naturalist's perspective on this would be to always leave nature alone, never interfering, never testing the wrath of mother nature herself. For, of course, we don't want to get our apparently nasty human stench onto other creatures, right? That would cause their actual families to kill them, wouldn't it?
In The Bean Trees, Taylor takes in a baby bird: a little girl named Turtle. Kingsolver seems to tussle with herself around the true answer to the questions above via making a human child in the situation a baby bird would be in, if found by a human. When Taylor fed Turtle pieces of food, "she took it like a newborn bird" (Bean 108). Around the time that Turtle goes through a crisis of being molested, a "terrified bird" whose "little heart" you could see "beating through the feathers" just so happened to fly into the house and hit a window, then, spastically fly out "the open screen door into the terrible night" (Bean 167-68). Turtle and birds go through parallel experiences in this novel. It is almost obvious that Turtle is who the baby bird metaphor discusses. But the true depth of this metaphor isn't what it represents, but rather what Kingsolver is saying about it. She uses her fictional stories to state non-fictional opinions. So what is she saying now?
The answer lies behind her words: “There was a cactus with bushy arms and a coat of yellow spines as thick as fur. A bird had built her nest in it. In and out she flew among the horrible spiny branches, never once hesitating. You just couldn’t imagine how she’s made a home in there” (Bean 124). Kingsolver is simply galvanized by people like Turtle, people who act like these birds with cacti as nests. This metaphor is a "shout-out" of sorts, not truly a call to action, but more of a notable mention for people who live with struggles, yet continue to LIVE. Turtle has been through so much during some of the most vital years of her life: her childhood. However, no matter what predators move in on her and Taylor, like Cynthia, a social worker who "had these tawny gold eyes like some member of the cat family" and wanted to separate Turtle and Taylor, the pair of them continue to be advocates for themselves. Taylor never stops fighting for her relationship with Turtle.
But, does it matter? How do Taylor's efforts align with Turtle's needs? When driving, Taylor "passed a run-over blackbird in the road" (Bean 189). Even if her "instinct was to step on the brakes... there was no earthly reason to stop for a dead bird" (Bean 189). These were her thoughts. Once a bird is dead, it's no good. Not worth stopping for. Taylor, being a very "nonstop" kind of girl, just might leave Turtle behind in the dust. She keeps pulling Turtle along, carrying her in a cage, but "if you tried to keep this bird in a cage, it died" (Bean 192). What use is Taylor for a girl who just wants to be free?
Kingsolver's message is oversimplified. To the end of the novel, it's completely okay for Taylor to have taken in this baby bird. For humans are simply another part of the natural world, from her perspective... right? But, for just this once, I find myself in opposition with Kingsolver's simplistic notion. Humans can strive to be like birds. Humans can also support birds by increasing the care of their habitats. However, humans and birds can't naturally interact and grow as beings from that interaction. Birds should stay with birds, humans with humans. Sometimes, all a bird needs to grow is nature. And if nature doesn't see fit for the bird to grow, then that will naturally be handled, too.
~Father Nature, Editor
Oddly enough, I find that Kingsolver's answer to these questions would be yes, based off of her words in this novel. I thought that a naturalist's perspective on this would be to always leave nature alone, never interfering, never testing the wrath of mother nature herself. For, of course, we don't want to get our apparently nasty human stench onto other creatures, right? That would cause their actual families to kill them, wouldn't it?In The Bean Trees, Taylor takes in a baby bird: a little girl named Turtle. Kingsolver seems to tussle with herself around the true answer to the questions above via making a human child in the situation a baby bird would be in, if found by a human. When Taylor fed Turtle pieces of food, "she took it like a newborn bird" (Bean 108). Around the time that Turtle goes through a crisis of being molested, a "terrified bird" whose "little heart" you could see "beating through the feathers" just so happened to fly into the house and hit a window, then, spastically fly out "the open screen door into the terrible night" (Bean 167-68). Turtle and birds go through parallel experiences in this novel. It is almost obvious that Turtle is who the baby bird metaphor discusses. But the true depth of this metaphor isn't what it represents, but rather what Kingsolver is saying about it. She uses her fictional stories to state non-fictional opinions. So what is she saying now?
The answer lies behind her words: “There was a cactus with bushy arms and a coat of yellow spines as thick as fur. A bird had built her nest in it. In and out she flew among the horrible spiny branches, never once hesitating. You just couldn’t imagine how she’s made a home in there” (Bean 124). Kingsolver is simply galvanized by people like Turtle, people who act like these birds with cacti as nests. This metaphor is a "shout-out" of sorts, not truly a call to action, but more of a notable mention for people who live with struggles, yet continue to LIVE. Turtle has been through so much during some of the most vital years of her life: her childhood. However, no matter what predators move in on her and Taylor, like Cynthia, a social worker who "had these tawny gold eyes like some member of the cat family" and wanted to separate Turtle and Taylor, the pair of them continue to be advocates for themselves. Taylor never stops fighting for her relationship with Turtle.
But, does it matter? How do Taylor's efforts align with Turtle's needs? When driving, Taylor "passed a run-over blackbird in the road" (Bean 189). Even if her "instinct was to step on the brakes... there was no earthly reason to stop for a dead bird" (Bean 189). These were her thoughts. Once a bird is dead, it's no good. Not worth stopping for. Taylor, being a very "nonstop" kind of girl, just might leave Turtle behind in the dust. She keeps pulling Turtle along, carrying her in a cage, but "if you tried to keep this bird in a cage, it died" (Bean 192). What use is Taylor for a girl who just wants to be free?
Kingsolver's message is oversimplified. To the end of the novel, it's completely okay for Taylor to have taken in this baby bird. For humans are simply another part of the natural world, from her perspective... right? But, for just this once, I find myself in opposition with Kingsolver's simplistic notion. Humans can strive to be like birds. Humans can also support birds by increasing the care of their habitats. However, humans and birds can't naturally interact and grow as beings from that interaction. Birds should stay with birds, humans with humans. Sometimes, all a bird needs to grow is nature. And if nature doesn't see fit for the bird to grow, then that will naturally be handled, too.
~Father Nature, Editor
Tuesday, April 28, 2009
The Bean Trees: Particularly Philosophical
As the sassy and sarcastic narrator, Taylor Greer, goes through some of the most riveting trials of her life in the novel The Bean Trees, the reader hops on a roller coaster ride of emotions and thoughts. The elation, exhilaration, and discombobulation that I felt while reading this book is indescribable. I can only let Taylor Greer lead the way as I journey through her life.
Taylor's character has the perfect fresco of personality traits, which, from a more broad view, creates a flawless character. Her uniquely rude humor, relentless love, and perceptive care combine to create an assertively brusque woman. The thing is, she needs to be bold. Without her steady confidence, she wouldn't be able to handle the tribulations that are hurled at her from life's cannon. Without divulging the extent of these events right now, I really want to recognize Taylor's fi
nesse at handling herself in difficult situations. She calls it "a conspiracy" when "everybody behaved as if Turtle was [her] own flesh and blood daughter" (Bean 110). She sarcastically twists situations after correctly analyzing them, bringing things into her separate plane of life, a different dimension, her realm. However, this realm doesn't forebode danger. She sees things in a very moral way, no matter how her sarcastic voice may express her feelings. Taylor's world is an idea that Kingsolver takes and stretches across the entire novel, for maybe then it will be thin enough for the reader to understand.Taylor's philosophy of living, rather Kingsolver's since she wrote it, is to embrace life fully without regretting it. While it seems contrary to this philosophy, Taylor shows that it's okay to look back, to pause for a second and review what you've done in your life. No matter how fast a roller coaster may go, the events of life rushing you by without being able to accept the scenery, you always have a chance to turn your head around. In fact, it's a temptation to turn around and examine your deeds, a dangerous temptation at that; a lure. Sometimes you may never know the repercussions of your actions until you search for them. Leaving behind everything in the dust is easy only because it is painless.
But as Taylor finds out, life is full of pain. Life is full of regret, questioning, and tears. Jealousy can creep in like an unnoticed shadow, and sometimes materializes into something more. A monster. Taylor becomes jealous when her adopted daughter, Turtle, becomes attached with another woman who could possibly be a mother figure for her. Taylor felt like "the odd woman out" (Bean 204). The woman, Esperanza, became a friend with Taylor. She is an emigrant from Mexico who lived in the same building as Taylor. When Esperanza and her husband plan on returning to Mexico, Taylor knows that she "really came close to losing Turtle. [She] couldn't have taken her from Esperanza. If [Esperanza] had asked, [Taylor] couldn't have said no" (Bean 215). Kingsolver teaches us, through Taylor, to accept jealousy, and all of the other faults we have. The roller coaster will move us, and sometimes we can't help but be moved. If we tried, we'd die.... It's accepting yourself, and the emotions you have, then being able to reflect on yourself, which will lead you on a good path of life.
~Father Nature, Editor
Monday, April 27, 2009
The Bean Trees: A Whole New World
This novel, and its sequel, Pigs In Heaven, is set in a world of its own type of chaos. Oklahoma isn't portrayed as a world of war nor one with extreme turmoil, however Kingsolver has created a society that is in a cultural crisis. What does it take to be an American? What does it mean to be Cherokee? To you, what does it mean to be cultural?
What is home?
For Taylor Greer, a girl quickly turned mom, home is ubiquitous. While at one point "she felt her heart do something strange when she said 'back home,'" she freely gallivants across the map, perhaps in pursuit of that envied location she has failed to stay put in thus far (Bean 61). She left her husband, who "could be there, or not, and it hardly made a difference" (Bean 63). Then suddenly, she is forced into adopting a baby that "was born in a Plymouth" (Bean 17-18). Taylor and her new daughter, Turtle, endure things that I would have never thought of. The new ray of perspective that Kingsolver has shined into our eyes is simply overwhelming. The ideology that we, as humans, are "supposed to love the same person your whole life long till death do you part and all that" is what Kingsolver is aiming to end (Bean 87). That world has past. T
he world of living, breathing, and taking in life's daily pleasures has come.
But the characters in this novel can't live that way. Estevan and Esperanza, two Mexican immigrants, were forced to change their names to Steven and Hope, in order to live in America. Liberty and justice for all, right? "But Estevan didn't [ever] seem perturbed" by the American, ethnocentric, narcissistic actions (Bean 107). Taylor admits that she "would have murdered somebody" before putting up with the racial stereotyping and discrimination that Estevan and Esperanza tolerated (Bean 107). This Mexican racism issue is but slightly touched upon, however the true issue lies within the nation as a whole, because, according to Taylor, "there's just so damn much ugliness" (Bean 170). She claims that "everywhere you look, some big guy [is] kicking some littler person when they're down" and she suggests those big guys find it "their [(the littler person)] fault in the first place for being poor or in trouble, or for not being white" (Bean 170). She finds that "the whole way of the world is to pick on people that can't fight back" and that "nobody feels sorry for anybody anymore, nobody even pretends they do" (Bean 171). The way she describes it is ideal: "unpatriotic" (Bean 171).
B
ut, the thing is, this is the our world. "For God's sake, what other world have we got?" (Bean 176). Sometimes we may think, "Do I want to try" today (Bean 178)? How would it feel to "not [belong] in any place? To be unwanted everywhere?" (Bean 195). On the playground of life, it would be depressing to wander aimlessly through the different play sets, being ostracized by everyone else, as they have fun.
But to stop trying? To stop reaching for that goal of some kind, any kind, of salvation to our trek, that would be disastrous. No matter where we are, no matter what the state of the world, Kingsolver urges us to always see the light at the end of the tunnel.
~Father Nature, Editor
What is home?
For Taylor Greer, a girl quickly turned mom, home is ubiquitous. While at one point "she felt her heart do something strange when she said 'back home,'" she freely gallivants across the map, perhaps in pursuit of that envied location she has failed to stay put in thus far (Bean 61). She left her husband, who "could be there, or not, and it hardly made a difference" (Bean 63). Then suddenly, she is forced into adopting a baby that "was born in a Plymouth" (Bean 17-18). Taylor and her new daughter, Turtle, endure things that I would have never thought of. The new ray of perspective that Kingsolver has shined into our eyes is simply overwhelming. The ideology that we, as humans, are "supposed to love the same person your whole life long till death do you part and all that" is what Kingsolver is aiming to end (Bean 87). That world has past. T
he world of living, breathing, and taking in life's daily pleasures has come.But the characters in this novel can't live that way. Estevan and Esperanza, two Mexican immigrants, were forced to change their names to Steven and Hope, in order to live in America. Liberty and justice for all, right? "But Estevan didn't [ever] seem perturbed" by the American, ethnocentric, narcissistic actions (Bean 107). Taylor admits that she "would have murdered somebody" before putting up with the racial stereotyping and discrimination that Estevan and Esperanza tolerated (Bean 107). This Mexican racism issue is but slightly touched upon, however the true issue lies within the nation as a whole, because, according to Taylor, "there's just so damn much ugliness" (Bean 170). She claims that "everywhere you look, some big guy [is] kicking some littler person when they're down" and she suggests those big guys find it "their [(the littler person)] fault in the first place for being poor or in trouble, or for not being white" (Bean 170). She finds that "the whole way of the world is to pick on people that can't fight back" and that "nobody feels sorry for anybody anymore, nobody even pretends they do" (Bean 171). The way she describes it is ideal: "unpatriotic" (Bean 171).
B
ut, the thing is, this is the our world. "For God's sake, what other world have we got?" (Bean 176). Sometimes we may think, "Do I want to try" today (Bean 178)? How would it feel to "not [belong] in any place? To be unwanted everywhere?" (Bean 195). On the playground of life, it would be depressing to wander aimlessly through the different play sets, being ostracized by everyone else, as they have fun.But to stop trying? To stop reaching for that goal of some kind, any kind, of salvation to our trek, that would be disastrous. No matter where we are, no matter what the state of the world, Kingsolver urges us to always see the light at the end of the tunnel.
~Father Nature, Editor
Sunday, April 26, 2009
Prodigal Summer: Stunning Similes
Similes are figures of speech that have the potential to add a new perspective, a clearer understanding, and a deeper meaning to a single idea, a sentence, a paragraph, or a full length essay. Kingsolver's similes are so numerous that it seems habitual, however a handful of them are among the best I've read or heard. Here is a list of Kingsolver's finest similes from Prodigal Summer. Hopefully they inspire you to read her writing, in order to fully understand the context of the quotes. However, even out of context, these quotes are extraordinary.
"She kept to her own thoughts then, touching them like smooth stones deep in a pocket" (Summer 18).
"...their clasped hands, alive with nerve endings like some fresh animal born with its own volition, pulling them forward" (Summer 20).
"she felt as jarred and disjunct as a butterfly molted extravagantly from a dun-colored larva and with no clue how to fly" (Summer 20).
"Arguments could fill a marriage like water, running through everything, always, with no taste or color but lots of noise" (Summer 46).
"She’d finished brushing her hair. It cascaded down her back and shoulders and folded onto the porch floor where she sat, rippling all around her like a dark, tea-colored waterfall glittering with silver reflections. More silver each year, and less tea” (Summer 53).
“Damned thing, self-consciousness, like a pitiful stray dog tagging you down the road—so hard to shake off. So easy to get back” (Summer 55).
"Lusa held her breath and lay very still, stunned by luck, as if a butterfly had lit on her shoulder” (Summer 356).
“Hannie-Mavis was trying to organize the kids into a labor pool for cranking the ice cream, but at the moment they were circling her like a swarm of bees threatening their queen with mutiny” (Summer 222).
~Father Nature, Editor
"She kept to her own thoughts then, touching them like smooth stones deep in a pocket" (Summer 18).
"...their clasped hands, alive with nerve endings like some fresh animal born with its own volition, pulling them forward" (Summer 20).
"she felt as jarred and disjunct as a butterfly molted extravagantly from a dun-colored larva and with no clue how to fly" (Summer 20).
"Arguments could fill a marriage like water, running through everything, always, with no taste or color but lots of noise" (Summer 46).
"She’d finished brushing her hair. It cascaded down her back and shoulders and folded onto the porch floor where she sat, rippling all around her like a dark, tea-colored waterfall glittering with silver reflections. More silver each year, and less tea” (Summer 53).
“Damned thing, self-consciousness, like a pitiful stray dog tagging you down the road—so hard to shake off. So easy to get back” (Summer 55).
"Lusa held her breath and lay very still, stunned by luck, as if a butterfly had lit on her shoulder” (Summer 356).
“Hannie-Mavis was trying to organize the kids into a labor pool for cranking the ice cream, but at the moment they were circling her like a swarm of bees threatening their queen with mutiny” (Summer 222).
~Father Nature, Editor
Saturday, April 25, 2009
Prodigal Summer: Meticulous Metaphors: Amorous Animals
I think that it's apparent now how much metaphor Kingsolver puts into her novels. Some critics say that metaphors are old fashioned, while others say that modern generations are losing the taste for metaphor that was evident in the Shakespearean era. While this is the final metaphor post for Prodigal Summer, I would just like to add, before I start the analysis, that I think metaphor is one of the most quality aspects of writing. Both the deepest depth and fullest-spanned breadth can be expressed with metaphor. Kingsolver's metaphor is unique, such that every time the metaphor comes up, another level of the depth is added on to it.
Moths. Predators. Birds. Chestnuts. Butterflies. Trees. These are all aspects of the largest metaphor of this novel: wildlife. At first I thought this metaphor simply included animals, and nothing else. I proceeded with finding a meaning behind each animal mentioned more than 
twice (moths, predators, birds). While the wrong overall approach, I think dissecting the metaphor of wildlife in this way will make it easiest to understand.
I'll start with moths. It may seem easy to understand the metaphor because of Kingsolver's way of titling sections with "Moth Love," "Old Chestnuts," and "Predators," but figuring out who each of these titles represents is just dipping your foot into the shallow pool of metaphor. Kingsolver is quick to use her moth metaphor to describe the relationship of Lusa and her late husband. The thing you must understand is that "moths speak to each other...by scent" (Summer 47). Moths "tell their love across the field" (Summer 47). Lusa described her morning, with her husband outside in the fields and she in the kitchen, as "perfectly windless and scentless" (Summer 47). This tells us that they basically had a loveless relationship toward the end of his life. Nevertheless, Lusa mourned when her husband passed. The depth of their relationship went deeper than one would suspect. This pushes me to inquire whether or not the moth metaphor goes deeper than I would s
uspect.... Are moths simply representative of people? Since humans are a species of mammals in this world, are we, from a global perspective, merely another species of animal?
Or, instead, are we the quintessential species?
From the layman's perspective, humans are prime! We are the furthest evolved, most intelligent, and conscious beings on the earth, which is why we rule what we rule, we conquer whatever land we want to conquer. The only things standing in our way are other humans. We own animals! We domesticate them, and put them to our use. This must be true because animals don't drive, sail, or build. Animal's can't control an airplane, complete a math test, or understand how a seesaw works. We are the fundamental living things on this earth.
What would Barbara Kingsolver say? Rather, what would she write?
Well, she has written! Her words, rather her animal metaphor, in Prodigal Summer clearly state her main point. At least, it's clearly stated after doing some thoughtful digging. The different animals are symbolic for the different emotions humans feel. The moth represents love. This has been explained above, through the comparison to Lusa's loveless, scentless, life and a moth's way of using scent to express love. It is expressed again, in a way, when Lusa says she's "like a moth...flying in spirals" (Summer 163). Infatuation sometimes befuddles us, and so going in spirals while in love would be expected.
The predator metaphor starts with Deanna's friend Eddie, who was "watching [her] like a damn predator and [thinks he has her] now" (Summer 99). The predators in all of us lurk in the shadows until the moment comes when they overtake our minds. The predators are anything from forbidden desires to sinful urges. This metaphor now seems complete... but this is Kingsolver we're reading. There's always more to come....
"To kill a natural predator is a sin" (Summer 179). This sentence provides that subtle hint of depth to the metaphor, which Kingsolver never leaves behind. People are diverse. The world contains different races, just as "out in your field you have predators and herbivores" (Summer 274). Punishing someone because of their race, their place in the food chain, is unthought of in Kingsolver's mind. Predators and herbivores alike must be accepted, embraced by nature, because they are a part of this life-filled world. Life, may it be an old chestnut, a lithe bird, or a grand tree, is precious. Life is a rainbow of color only because of the myriad of living things that inhabit the Earth.
~Father Nature, Editor
Moths. Predators. Birds. Chestnuts. Butterflies. Trees. These are all aspects of the largest metaphor of this novel: wildlife. At first I thought this metaphor simply included animals, and nothing else. I proceeded with finding a meaning behind each animal mentioned more than 
twice (moths, predators, birds). While the wrong overall approach, I think dissecting the metaphor of wildlife in this way will make it easiest to understand.I'll start with moths. It may seem easy to understand the metaphor because of Kingsolver's way of titling sections with "Moth Love," "Old Chestnuts," and "Predators," but figuring out who each of these titles represents is just dipping your foot into the shallow pool of metaphor. Kingsolver is quick to use her moth metaphor to describe the relationship of Lusa and her late husband. The thing you must understand is that "moths speak to each other...by scent" (Summer 47). Moths "tell their love across the field" (Summer 47). Lusa described her morning, with her husband outside in the fields and she in the kitchen, as "perfectly windless and scentless" (Summer 47). This tells us that they basically had a loveless relationship toward the end of his life. Nevertheless, Lusa mourned when her husband passed. The depth of their relationship went deeper than one would suspect. This pushes me to inquire whether or not the moth metaphor goes deeper than I would s
uspect.... Are moths simply representative of people? Since humans are a species of mammals in this world, are we, from a global perspective, merely another species of animal?Or, instead, are we the quintessential species?
From the layman's perspective, humans are prime! We are the furthest evolved, most intelligent, and conscious beings on the earth, which is why we rule what we rule, we conquer whatever land we want to conquer. The only things standing in our way are other humans. We own animals! We domesticate them, and put them to our use. This must be true because animals don't drive, sail, or build. Animal's can't control an airplane, complete a math test, or understand how a seesaw works. We are the fundamental living things on this earth.
What would Barbara Kingsolver say? Rather, what would she write?
Well, she has written! Her words, rather her animal metaphor, in Prodigal Summer clearly state her main point. At least, it's clearly stated after doing some thoughtful digging. The different animals are symbolic for the different emotions humans feel. The moth represents love. This has been explained above, through the comparison to Lusa's loveless, scentless, life and a moth's way of using scent to express love. It is expressed again, in a way, when Lusa says she's "like a moth...flying in spirals" (Summer 163). Infatuation sometimes befuddles us, and so going in spirals while in love would be expected.
The predator metaphor starts with Deanna's friend Eddie, who was "watching [her] like a damn predator and [thinks he has her] now" (Summer 99). The predators in all of us lurk in the shadows until the moment comes when they overtake our minds. The predators are anything from forbidden desires to sinful urges. This metaphor now seems complete... but this is Kingsolver we're reading. There's always more to come....
"To kill a natural predator is a sin" (Summer 179). This sentence provides that subtle hint of depth to the metaphor, which Kingsolver never leaves behind. People are diverse. The world contains different races, just as "out in your field you have predators and herbivores" (Summer 274). Punishing someone because of their race, their place in the food chain, is unthought of in Kingsolver's mind. Predators and herbivores alike must be accepted, embraced by nature, because they are a part of this life-filled world. Life, may it be an old chestnut, a lithe bird, or a grand tree, is precious. Life is a rainbow of color only because of the myriad of living things that inhabit the Earth.
~Father Nature, Editor
Friday, April 24, 2009
Prodigal Summer: Meticulous Metaphors: Extinct Ghosts
Ghosts make the embodiment of the next metaphor, as previously mentioned. The ghosts of Kingsolver's mind are not poltergeists, ghastly, or mal-intended. Rather, they represent the lost, forgotten, lifeless souls of extinct animals. Lusa calls herself "as free and disembodied as a ghost" when "she was free" because her husband, now past, wasn't lying with her in the morning (Summer 48). This starts the reader off with believing that ghosts are positive beings that are okay to compare yourself to. However, the general outlook on ghosts is the complete opposite.
So which ghost is Kingsolver implying in her metaphor? Are ghosts her pathway to stating a deep and precise point, which I just don't understand? Based on the prying of her work thus far, I think that every metaphor repeated at least twice has a depth that the reader really has to dig to discover.
With this mindset, I have observed that Kingsolver has used ghosts to describe extinction three times: "The ghost of a creature long extinct was coming in on silent footprints" (Summer 63). "As if they were already ghosts, mourning their future extinction" (Summer 66). "He was haunted by the ghosts of these old chestnuts, by the great emptiness their extinction had left in the world" (Summer 128). This metaphor makes sense, because extinct species are ghosts of life. This would match Kingsolver's nature theme because it serves as an outreach to save endangered species from becoming extinct; saving animals from becoming ghosts. However, the essence of Kingsolver has left its mark on this metaphor; we can dig deeper.
Kingsolver's metaphor deepens just as a murder plot thickens: "Lusa... was living among ghosts" (Summer 76). Kingsolver describes the scene as having "ghosts everywhere, even here in the neutral guest bedroom where Lusa had hardly spent an hour of her life before this" (Summer 75). This perspective portrays ghosts as a metaphor for memories. When in mourning, Lusa sees ghosts everywhere in her life. One would assume that a widow would see images of her late husband all around her household, even in places she hardly spent time in. When something is constantly on your mind, you may start imagining that it becomes real. This must be the depth that Kingsolver wanted to get to for the first 350 pages of this novel.
However, Lusa actually gives an explanation for the ghosts she speaks of. By ghosts, she means "stuff you can't see...certain kinds of love you can't see" (Summer 357). She says that she believes i
n this invisible love. So, then, ghosts represent invisible love? Could it possibly be the love of her late husband? I think that when digging deeper, we can't forget what we've already dug through. I think that we are correct in discovering the truth to this metaphor if we combine the different tiers of it.
So, ghosts are a metaphor for the invisible memories of love that Lusa has as a widower, yet also the love Garrett and Deanna share for extinct species. They don't want to see any more trees or animals become extinct, and ghosts, the embodiment of things past, remind them of what they don't want to think about: the inevitable "future extinction" of all things (Summer 66).
~Father Nature, Editor
So which ghost is Kingsolver implying in her metaphor? Are ghosts her pathway to stating a deep and precise point, which I just don't understand? Based on the prying of her work thus far, I think that every metaphor repeated at least twice has a depth that the reader really has to dig to discover.
With this mindset, I have observed that Kingsolver has used ghosts to describe extinction three times: "The ghost of a creature long extinct was coming in on silent footprints" (Summer 63). "As if they were already ghosts, mourning their future extinction" (Summer 66). "He was haunted by the ghosts of these old chestnuts, by the great emptiness their extinction had left in the world" (Summer 128). This metaphor makes sense, because extinct species are ghosts of life. This would match Kingsolver's nature theme because it serves as an outreach to save endangered species from becoming extinct; saving animals from becoming ghosts. However, the essence of Kingsolver has left its mark on this metaphor; we can dig deeper.
Kingsolver's metaphor deepens just as a murder plot thickens: "Lusa... was living among ghosts" (Summer 76). Kingsolver describes the scene as having "ghosts everywhere, even here in the neutral guest bedroom where Lusa had hardly spent an hour of her life before this" (Summer 75). This perspective portrays ghosts as a metaphor for memories. When in mourning, Lusa sees ghosts everywhere in her life. One would assume that a widow would see images of her late husband all around her household, even in places she hardly spent time in. When something is constantly on your mind, you may start imagining that it becomes real. This must be the depth that Kingsolver wanted to get to for the first 350 pages of this novel.
However, Lusa actually gives an explanation for the ghosts she speaks of. By ghosts, she means "stuff you can't see...certain kinds of love you can't see" (Summer 357). She says that she believes i
n this invisible love. So, then, ghosts represent invisible love? Could it possibly be the love of her late husband? I think that when digging deeper, we can't forget what we've already dug through. I think that we are correct in discovering the truth to this metaphor if we combine the different tiers of it.So, ghosts are a metaphor for the invisible memories of love that Lusa has as a widower, yet also the love Garrett and Deanna share for extinct species. They don't want to see any more trees or animals become extinct, and ghosts, the embodiment of things past, remind them of what they don't want to think about: the inevitable "future extinction" of all things (Summer 66).
~Father Nature, Editor
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)