This story kind of lagged for me. I feel like I was able to predict most of the book and that took out all of the fun of reading it at such a slow pace. When the donors were mentioned I immediately assumed they were donating organs. When it was revealed explicitly by ms. Lucy I wasn’t very surprised, and reacted much the same as the students there. I didn’t understand why they couldn’t be allowed to dream. With the idea of them being donors I thought back to The House of the Scorpion, a novel about a boy who is a clone. I had the thought that the students were clones, and like the society in The House of the Scorpion, they were probably thought to be repulsive and meant to be kept hidden, but also kept very healthy and of a sound mind. This is what led me to conclude that the gallery was likely meant to show that the clones were individuals with thoughts and souls, so I wasn’t at all surprised by this being revealed later.

I found it all to be very sad and I was righteously frustrated for the characters and the world they lived in and the way they lived, but I feel that too much of the anticipation was lost on me. It doesn’t help that the longer the story progressed the more I found myself hating Ruth and being annoyed with Kathy.

The way Atwood worked with character was amazing. She fleshed each one out to the point where we knew them all fairly well, and Simon’s mom I felt I got to know so well through only letters. Throughout this story we get very close with Simon himself who seems to be an upstanding man. However, my image of him began to deteriorate quickly as the story progressed. Due to the nature of the story and the heavy handedness with which we are reminded that women tend to get the short end of the stick, I found myself coming to the common sentiment that all men are trash and you can’t even trust the ones you thought you could. I felt deceived and disappointed by the way Simon initiates and continues an affair, leaves to save himself from any potential responsibility, and lusts after Grace. I wonder if Atwood did this on purpose to give us just a taste of what a woman may have gone through and felt, after trusting a man who turned out to be annoyingly unloyal and cowardly.

“But I don’t know why it is, a girl of fifteen or sixteen is accounted a woman, but a boy of fifteen or sixteen is still a boy.”

I find it unnerving how a story told that is meant to be set in the 1850’s is still so relevant today. At sixteen Grace is held accountable for anyone who shows interest in her, as we see earlier she is distressed by the man grabbing her at the inn not just for her own safety, but because it would look bad to her new employers, even though it’s of no fault of her own. This is easily comparable to how oft times white men who have committed crimes are portrayed as children despite being as old as in their twenties, and images of them when they were younger are the ones that articles and news sites choose to represent them, while other groups aren’t afforded the same privileges. Throughout Grace’s telling of the story her voice and experience is so strong that I keep forgetting that she is so young when all of this is actually happening. I wonder how the story would have been different if Jamie were the one thought to have aided McDermott.

The way women navigate through this time period is impressive to me. In hindsight it’s clear that women were treated unjustly, and without respect. Yet, it’s clear to the women of that time as well and that’s refreshing. The way different women play into the system to keep themselves safe, keep their dignity, and stay afloat is astounding. Mary Whitney tells Grace of all of these rules surrounding what a woman should and shouldn’t do, and what a mad woman especially should and shouldn’t do. One woman plays into the system by pretending to be mad in order to have a safe and warm place to live in the winter, and Grace plays in the system by adjusting the way her abilities are viewed. She plays stupid to seem harmless and to protect herself. She is aware of what is to be said and around who. My favorite example is when she feels she is being taken advantage of by the doctor, but knows she can’t say “Take your hand off my tit, you filthy bastard” to get the doctor to stop touching her inappropriately, as Mary Whitney would have been able to, so she bites. She knows how to act for redemption and how to survive in confinement. She plays guessing games with the doctor, purposefully seeming stupid, and controlling the way he can view her.

Comparison 

Rushdie’s language is not easy to understand. Many of his sentences are 3 or more lines long, and there aren’t always dialogue tags or other clear indicators of what someone is saying versus what they’re thinking and observing. I had to read many pages multiple times, and still came away with just a vague sense of understanding what’s going on. I wish I could get more clarity on the transitions between subjects and why they’re relevant. I appreciate the reveal in each chapter where the chapter name is explained. These moments are grounding and help when trying to know what to take away from each chapter.

When we compare this to Woolf or Forster the main difference for me is that these authors use imagery to kind of ground each scene. Their transitions are smooth from character to character because they take the time to consider the setting and other external indicators before going into the character’s internal thoughts. Rushdie doesn’t really do that.

Cultural 

I love this selection and that Rushdie openly acknowledges that he can only write about the India that he experiences and remembers. Not only does it make it clear that his India is probably different than what other people know or have experienced, but it makes the work seem that much more personal. I also find it interesting that Rushdie mentions the weight that it adds to be writing in English. He addresses the cultural connotations of writing in English, as well as mentioning that it’s not so much a choice as it is a necessity. Overall this essay made me excited to consider all cultural aspects of his work as well as literature in general.

“The Happy Autumn Fields” is an interesting story that almost has a possession theme. Mary seems to feel as though she is possessing her own body each time she wakes. There is so much detail in her dreams and she is sure that she’s Henrietta, then when she awakes we get little to no information on who Mary is and why she is alone in a mostly bare room, in a place that seems to be getting attacked. Initially, she feels completely detached from her body and speaks of it as though it’s someone else’s. The only clue we’re given as to why is that presumably Mary has been sifting through old ephemera from this family.

In another sense, Henrietta and Sarah often seem to be in each other’s minds constantly, as though they are possessing each other. She comments that they rarely questioned each other, especially in front of people, because they knew the thoughts of the other so well. The fact that they may have both died young only amplifies the eerie thought of their supernatural connection.

So far the most effective technique that Forster uses is his imagery. I love that he sets the scene before getting into the characters and dialogue. It makes the entire narrative easy to follow and hard to get lost in. I appreciate that he uses the entire first chapter to set the scene of India. This technique is especially useful as he is describing a place that is likely foreign to the target audience, or at least to me.

I also find it interesting how Forster uses point of view. It ranges from third person limited to third person omniscient, yet I don’t find that disorienting. I actually like that we get to bounce around and see different people’s external actions, with short bursts of the introspective or extra information that the characters maybe don’t even realize. One example of this is near the end of the third chapter. When Ronny has said “India isn’t home,” we get a direct explanation that he is unsure of himself, and so copies the sayings of the older officials. We don’t know if Ronny himself realizes this.

Quote

“Off they went together, Miss Kilman and Elizabeth, downstairs. With a sudden impulse, with a violent anguish, for this woman was taking her daughter from her, Clarissa leant over the banisters and cried out, ‘Remember the party! Remember our party tonight!’”

Elizabeth’s role is intriguing, as she is growing up and finding herself uninterested in the world of the upper-class. Even more interesting is how her mother reacts. Clarissa seems to be unconcerned for her daughter, acknowledging that she will likely never become interested in throwing or attending parties. She seems to assume this is just a generational thing where young women are trying new things and interests. However, when Miss Kilman arrives to take Elizabeth with her Clarissa seems almost sorrowful at seeing her daughter leave with a woman so taken with love and religion. It’s not enough for her to reach out and try to connect with her daughter though. She doesn’t attempt to join them at the stores or get to know her daughter more. She simply reminds her of the party in the hopes that she will think to return.

Theme/Issue

Septimus  is a World War 1 veteran suffering from shell shock. While his doctor at the time claims that he is okay and needs only be reminded of things outside of himself, Septimus is very clearly unable to do that. He is often reminded of moments in battle, but is also haunted by this man Evans as well as the crime that he believes he commited.

His wife, Lucrezia, constantly attempts to bring him back to reality and end his mumbling. To everyone else though, this looks like they are quarreling, and Lucrezia always seems especially odd despite Septimus being the one who cannot focus on reality. It’s interesting to me how Septimus is being tormented by his past and told that nothing is wrong with him by the doctor meant to help him, yet Lucrezia is the one who seems to be the most irrationally anguished to others.