Meaning in the Meaningless (Ryan McFarland)

Oskar Schell in many ways attempts to answer the existential questions hat face any atheist. Many times throughout Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close he searches for meaning in a world that constantly presents him with awful situations. From his father dying in the world trade center to 9/11 in general he begs the question: Why? He discusses various opinions on how everything came to be and is adamant about the fact that he does not believe in a higher power. He discusses how Stephen Hawking portrays the universe in his book A Brief History of Time, yet even Hawking himself cannot answer Oskar’s questions about why things are the way they are.

An interesting complication to this idea that Hawking himself was an atheist is the fact that when Hawking is describing the beginnings of the universe in his book, he uses the terminology “first mover” to explain how it all started. I read Hawking’s book about a year ago and was blown away that even he did not understand how it started. He describes everything that happened from a second after this “first mover” started the universe until are current state of existence in the universe. He stands in complete awe of how unlikely the situation we are in is, but still believes that it is all explainable through science.

I believe that Foer gives s his answer to the problem of how to create meaning in the meaningless. When Grandma sends the letter this time she ends it with, “I love you.” This is what many authors have determined is the meaning of life in a Godless universe. Kurt Vonnegut reaches a similar conclusion at the end of his book Sirens of Titan. If we are nothing more than a tiny speck of meaningless particles in the middle of a meaningless universe, it doesn’t matter. The fact that we love and can be loved makes it all worth it. The capability for two humans to bond and communicate makes the entire universe worth living in. It is worth experiencing even if there is no afterlife. This is why Oskar is so upset about the last moments of his father’s existence. He and his father did not get to communicate the only meaningful thing the universe has to offer just one last time.

Extremely Complicated & Incredibly Simple- Chelsea Gill

I finished this book and decided to start at the beginning again to find connections I had since forgotten. It is safe to say that from start to finish this book consistently uses ‘extremely’ and ‘incredibly’ numerous times and in many different contexts. There has to be a reason for this. The words are even in the title so what is so important about these two words?
I began to think what it would be like to be incredibly close to someone while being extremely loud. Why would anyone need to be in such a position, and what characters in the book would have this need? I thought of a ghost desperately trying to get the attention of a loved one left behind in life. I thought of a ghost yelling in someone’s face while that person stares straight through him. Then I tried connecting that thought to the book and I got the answer. Throughout the book, Oskar is searching frantically for some piece of his father. He becomes obsessed with a key that eventually opens a safety deposit box of another man’s dead father. He focuses so hard on finding the lock, the simple solution to an impossible problem. One of the last pages of the book, Oskar says, “…but I believe that things are extremely complicated, and her looking over me was as complicated as anything ever could be. But it was also incredibly simple.”(324). I thought this applied well to his search for his father. The search for the lock that fit the Black key was extremely complicated. It took Oskar eight months for a search that ended in disappointment, but his reason for such complexity was simple; he was trying to keep a part of his father alive.
I am sure there are other, much more philosophical, opinions to why the title and the book focus so obsessively on extremes and incredible epiphanies, but I thought the answer to be rather simple. People do crazy things when they love someone and sometimes one cannot simply say it. “And how can you say I love you to someone you love?”(314).

An "expert at watching": How to avoid connections and alienate people...

Through Foer’s last chapters of Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close, he comments that without meaning, without expressing our true emotions, without love, we forget and regret our past, and our lives become insignificant. Foer relating traumatic events backwards, from both the Grandmother’s life and Oskar’s life contrasts the differences between their expression of love, and what the current consequences of these actions are. With the end line of “It’s always necessary. /I love you, /Grandma” (314), Foer expresses that this emotion is what holds our sanity together, and is the only “necessary” (314) way to live lives. The Grandmother, who does not express her emotions in the beginning of her life; the evident split of internal emotion, “I wanted to shout, It isn’t fair, and bag my fists against the table like a child” (307) and external calm reaction, “Everything special” (307) towards her husband, brings a sense of loss and unanchored existence in her world because she holds regret and the unspoken lie of unloving in her life. Because her life with her husband, a relationship built upon the safety of togetherness rather than the mutual exchange of emotions, the Grandmother cannot remember the loving relationship of her family, the small, insignificant details, such as the “front door of the house I grew up in” (308). Foer conveys by ingoing the presence of love in our lives and living in the past, we as people, stop the act of living, we merely become spectators in life, “an expert at watching” (309). However, though these last three chapters, Foer conveys that Oskar, who now carries the realization that there is someone in the world who loves him currently, not only in the past, can move on in his own life. In these chapters, Oskar is alluded to having a new beginning, realizing that he is not alone in his search for the lock to his key, his mother had known all along, and his idol, Stephen Hawking has written back to him after the countless generic form letters. Through these chapters, Foer develops Oskar as living with a new paradigm with life, that will help him emotionally to move on after the death of his father. Through these chapters, Oskar now realizes that he is not alone and insignificant in the world, but he is connected to others. Oskar is a new beginning. Instead of dwelling on the past events of his life without the ability to move on, he can remember the past of his life. “He said, Let there be light. And there was darkness. Oskar” (313). These are the words of his Grandmother, who could not let go of her losses of the past, but knows Oskar can, and will move on in his life. Both of these characters relive their past lives through these chapters, with events moving from current to the past. Foer writes that both of these characters finally have realized that connections to others, the abandonment of being "experts at watching", and expressing love will hold their lives together. With their mirroring final words of “I love you” (314, 326), and Oskar's last line of "We would have been safe" (326), convey the two character's realization of how love holds people extremely close to each other.

Oskar: Growing Up (Philip Newland)

The most important aspect of this final section of the novel, for me, was the relationship displayed between Oskar and his mother.  After returning to his apartment early in the morning after digging up his father's grave, Oskar is hardly confronted by his mother to his own surprise.  It is easy to relate to this situation of returning at odd hours of the night or morning and having a parent waiting up for me yet, unlike Oskar's mother, my parents would be livid.  Yet she remained calm and when Oskar questions her about her seemingly apathetic mood, she states, "I trust you".  This simple three word statement represents what Oskar needed to hear throughout his epic quest of finding the connection between the Black families and the key left for him in this novel.  Oskar, being a young and extremely intelligent boy, repressed his feelings toward his father's death yet this sort of trust within his remaining family is exactly what he needed to heal his pain.

The second interesting moment between Oskar and his mother is in the morning after Oskar returns from his grave-digging and finds his mother in the exact same place she was the night before when he returned.  This is when she surprises him, and me as the reader, by saying that Oskar's father called her the day he died from the buildings.  She says, "He told me he was on the street, that he'd gotten out of the building. He said he was walking home".  Oskar, using his intelligence, guesses that "He made it up so you wouldn't worry".  Yet, his mother replies, "But he knew I knew".  This simple interaction could have taken place at the beginning of the novel and could have ridden Oskar of his guilt from not answering the phone that fateful morning yet, I believe, it was all part of the process.  Earlier in this final passage, Oskar finds out that his mother had talked to all of the Blacks before he even visited them, therefore meaning that she knew what he was doing the entire journey without letting him know.  I see this as her making sure he was safe during his quest while also giving him the necessary distance to figure things out on his own.  Thus, there are now several instances in the novel where Oskar finds out things from his mother which could have previously helped yet they were withheld for his own good.  I would say that the overall message of this novel is one of growing up for Oskar and, with his mother keeping secrets from him, allowed him to do just that.  While Oskar is an extremely intelligent and insightful young boy, his repressed emotions about his father's death are what held him back from being a "normal" boy.  Therefore, after keeping watch from a safe distance and withholding some information from him, Oskar's mother allowed him to mature and develop on his own and thereby fulfilling what I see as the main point of the novel: maturation.

161,999,999 Locks in New York Will Hide My Unhappiness

…Double Happiness… “Not a character pronounced very often-almost exclusively used in written form” (www.orientaloutpost.com).
In the chapter “Happiness Happiness”, Noah Blumenthal writes, “In the interview with Tomoyasu…the interviewer kept asking about the generic facts of the bombing… like the mushroom cloud and the black rain, but Tomoyasu replied ‘I didn’t see the mushroom cloud, I was trying to find Masako”. Like Oskar, the interviewer is so focused on the facts that he cannot really connect to the emotional aspect of tragedy. For Oskar, he cannot fully realize and come to terms with the emotional effect of his Dad’s death, although it affects him every day. Through his speech and actions, especially after his presentation to the class, parallels are drawn between how he speaks after his class presentation of the atom bomb tragedy, and his manner of speaking, his intellectually driven approach, towards everyday life. After his class presentation, Oskar is so focused on the facts he cannot acknowledge the sadness, the reaction of the class. When the teacher says, “that seemed pretty complete to me” (189), Oskar ignores this, going on by saying, “Because the radiant heat traveled in straight lines from the explosion, scientists were able to determine the direction towards the hypocenter…” (189). Oskar here ignores the emotional side of the tragedy, focusing on the facts as a tool to distance himself from the event. Oskar uses this same technique when thinking about his father, ignoring the actual fact that he is gone, instead focusing on the numbers, the “161,999,999 locks in New York” (200), and “Lie #77” (196).
Throughout the novel, Oskar deals with his inability to express emotion, his inability to outwardly confront his mother about the bruises he gives himself, or vocalize his violent and angry feelings demonstrated though his imagined play. Through this chapter, relating the narrative of the loss of a loved one parallels the fact that Oskar has also lost a loved one, affecting his ability to express himself. Throughout the chapter, themes of expression where Oskar is left out of the joke, left out of the conversation convey his inability to communicate effectively. “Mr. Keegan got angry and said, ‘Jimmy!”…I could tell that Mr. Keegan was cracking up too” (190), and the encounter where Oskar’s language of English, and even French “Parlez-vous francais?” (195), leaves Oskar on the outside looking in. Through the chapter, Foer develops to what extent Oskar’s father has connected him to the rest of the world, and allowed him to connect all of his thoughts into words. When Foer writes the two speaking in Spanish were “cracking up together” (195), Oskar is merely an observer, and cannot communicate, because he does not know the language. Here the ‘language’ is not only diction and syntax, but is used as a symbol for the connection of two people.
After Oskar’s father is gone, Oskar finds it difficult to communicate his emotions. At his psychiatrist appointment, after the question, “Does this emotionaless of yours, does it affect your daily life?” (201), Oskar answers “yes” (195), but in a very round-a-bout way, taking about three sentences to answer a simple question. Before Oskar’s response is “Well, to answer your question, I don’t think that’s a real word you used. Emotinalness. But I understand what you were trying to say, and yes” (201). Through this example, Foer develops language’s variations of expression, from Oskar’s lengthy answer to a simple ‘yes’ or ‘no’ question to the three short words, “Mother. Water. Mother” (187), uttered by the girl coming towards Tomoyasu. Through this comparison of language, Foer develops Oskar’s language’s inability to convey, to express true meaning.
For Oskar, his “yes” (195), and the journey to that simple syllable revealed his hesitancy and avoidance to connect to his feelings. In contrast, the young girl whose “skin was melting down her” (187), and her utterance of three short words, “Mother. Water. Mother” (187), convey more than her want for her mother and water; this phrase expresses her want and need for comfort, safety, and protection. Through this example, Foer juxtaposes the expressive nature of language, and how, by using such a large quantity of objective, of written factual language, Oskar avoids the personal emotion, the personal expression of his own language. Corresponding with this theme of non-expressional language is Foer’s title of the chapter, “Happiness Happiness”, an allusion to the Japanese symbol of double happiness, though this symbol is rarely spoken. Like Oskar’s response to his tragedy, his response to the word “happiness” (202) asked by his psychiatrist leaves Oskar at loss for words, moving Oskar to say, “I’m feeling uncomfortable” (202). Oskar’s inability to respond to the word “Happiness” (202) reveals how his language cannot expresses his feelings, and how Oskar reveals the tragic death of his father forces him to rarely experience happiness.

Parallels Between the Generations

In the sections we read this week, we’re finally given some answers to fill in the story’s blanks, especially in regards to Oskar’s grandfather. But there is one revelation that I would have skipped over if it hadn’t been there in red ink staring me in the face. The section “Why I’m Not Where You Are 4/12/78” is marked up with red circles. Honestly at first I thought some hoodlum had decided to be stupid with a pen, but then I realized that the circles were a part of the book. Then I noticed how annoying it was to read with the red circles, and thought about how Oskar’s dad used to circle mistakes in the newspaper with red pen. It wasn’t until later that the obvious struck me. Thomas Schell must have read the letter.
Now I’m not going to hypothesize on what effect, if any, that has on the story, but it made me wonder at the similarity between Thomas and his father. They both left their sons and wives, went away one day and never returned, and left behind messages received by their children. It’s not much to go on, but just that there are similarities I feel is somehow important. I might be stretching things too far with this, but I see a connection between Thomas and his father in what they are (were?) thinking on the day they left. Obviously Oskar’s father can’t have put all his feelings about his life and how he felt about leaving Oskar on the answering machine. But the elder Thomas can leave his feelings and reasons behind in the form of his letters. I wonder, if Oskar could receive letters from his father, if they wouldn’t read something like the ones we’re seeing.
On a completely different topic but still with a focus on the parallels between the generations, I couldn’t help but notice the similarities between the bombing of Dresden and 9/11. We’re given pages of description of the bombing, from the grandfather’s letter, and there’s a definite connection with the description of the destruction of the twin towers that we read earlier in the book. Plus the two and a half pages of the description of the bombing of Hiroshima at the beginning of “Happiness, Happiness” as used in one of Oskar’s class presentations. Now we get a connection between Oskar and his grandfather. They both survived the attacks, but lost someone they cared deeply for, and have been changed because of it, in the way they act, think, feel, and interact with others. Plus they’re both left with people who occupy a far less important place in their lives than the one they lost – Oskar has his mother and his grandfather has his grandmother. I wish I could say more about how this all works together, and I know it does, but as of right now the bigger picture is still out of my grasp.

Stephen Hawking and Oskar - Tasha

Stephen Hawking and his book appear many times throughout this novel. I believe he might actually be the reason Oskar is so depressed. After playing for his class an interview of Tomoyasu who experience first hand the bombing of Hiroshima, Oskar shows his class one of his own little experiements that has to do with light's attraction to figures on paper and how it can burn letter-shaped holes. “I held up the sheet of paper, with the first page of A Brief History of Time in Japanese, which I got the translation of from Amazon.co.jp. I looked at the class through the story of the turtles” (190). To understand this section as well as other parts of Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close, we need to take a look at Stephen Hawking’s book as well. A Brief History of Time begins with a description of a lecture in which an old lady confronts the astronomy lecturer by suggesting the whole world is sitting on the back of a giant turtle. The lecturer responds by asking what this turtle carrying the world is sitting on. The old lady then retorts, “It’s turtles all the way down.” This idea, that the world is essentially only a very small, finite part of an infinite world (of turtles) is pretty depressing because it forces the idea that a human being is pretty insignificant. It is through this lens that Oskar literally looks at his class, and perhaps the rest of the world.
While Hawking’s book scientifically argues that mankind is not the center of the universe, Oskar’s dad tries to convince his son that a human being is significant. We’ve already discussed the ideas on page 86 in which Oskar’s dad tries to teach him the significance of a human life. It seems as though Oskar is caught in between two of his own heroes: his dad, who argued that human life is important (although he has died), and Stephen Hawking who argues that human life isn’t as important as we think it is (yet still is alive). But he also associates Stephen Hawking, more specifically Hawking’s impersonal letter, with events that are mysterious or sad. The very impersonal response from Hawking appears on page 12, after which Oskar tells his mom “ I have something incredibly wonderful that I want to preserve.” It also appears so far in our reading on pages 106 and 200. I’m not sure what the repeated appearance of this letter means. However, I feel that the impersonal nature of this response has to do with the way Oskar is feeling throughout the novel. Oskar spent the time to write this man a letter, yet all Hawking can do is send him a typed response telling Oskar how he doesn’t have enough time to respond personally. This must make Oskar feel very insignificant. Oskar depression starts with the death of his father, a real hero in Oskar’s eyes, but continues with the lack of personal connection with his other hero, Stephen Hawking. This is just one way, in spite of Hawking’s argument that humans are insignificant, that one person or one book can influence another person’s life.

"Happiness, Happiness" (Kelly Aiken)

The chapter “Happiness, Happiness” I believe really shows Oskar’s character, and how he is mature and wise beyond his eleven years. For his class presentation, I found it interesting that Oskar chose one that involved the Hiroshima bombings. The interview gave such a horrific and terrifying description of what happened to the people and this mother who lost her daughter. The class reaction had girls crying, and boys pretending to barf. I doubt this would be something a child at Oskar’s age would normally do a presentation on, because it is horrific. But what Oskar has been through, and seen and experienced would allow him to stomach something of this sort, and allow him to think of it from a scientific point of view (instead of talking about the emotional aspect, he talks about how the “radiant heat traveled” [p.189]). This bombing would connect to all the men in the Schell family; in the next chapter, the grandfather finally describes the day of the bombings in Dresden and Oskar’s father was in one of the towers. It’s interesting to then look at how each dealt with these situations, even if Oskar wasn’t involved in the Hiroshima bombings. Thomas Sr. spent the rest of his life regretting and writing letters, not able to fully handle what happened in Dresden. In Thomas Jr.’s messages, he always seems rather calm trying to explain what is happening and trying to talk to somebody. For Oskar to give this presentation, he does not even blink at the idea of people being killed from the bombings. This translates to how Oskar deals with the tragedy and his emotions in general. Instead of facing something, he would give himself a bruise and it wouldn’t even phase him. When he talks with Dr. Fein, he only gives brief answers to how he is feeling. We’ve also seen earlier in the scene during Hamlet that Oskar wanted to bash the other boy’s skull in til it bled to make himself feel better, but instead didn’t do anything. This happens again when Dr. Fein asks Oskar if “any good can come from [his] father’s death” (203). Oskar wanted to respond, “No! Of course not, you fucking asshole!” which would show his true feelings, and let him open up his emotions (203). Instead Oskar shrugs his shoulders. It makes me wonder about Oskar and if he’ll ever be able to let his emotions go and deal with them openly instead of burying them in bruises and in his subconscious.

Happiness and Why I'm Not Where You Are - Noah Blumenthal

First, I just wanted to say that the interview with Tomoyasu made me think of Paul D talking to Sethe about the boys in the barn. The interviewer kept asking about the generic facts of the bombing, like the mushroom cloud and the black rain, but Tomoyasu replied with, "I didn't see the mushroom cloud. I was trying to find Masako." It reminded me of Sethe not caring about anything other than, "They took my milk."

Now then, "Happiness, Happiness" and "Why I'm Not Where You Are, 4/12/78" were suprisingly similar, for all their content seemed to be day and night. First of all, they're both written as a stream of consciousness (more so in WINWYA), which makes everything somewhat befuddled, and can give the impression that the narrator is dreaming (again, more so in WINWYA). In the case of Happiness, I got the befuddled feeling from the random insertions of letters to Oskar (especially since none of them included the letters they were responding to) and from the erratic passage of time (even though it was clear at what time everything was happening, it was suddenly announced that "Monday was boring," for example). It didn't have the same effect as bombs everywhere and suddenly being told to shoot animals that escaped from the zoo and running from cellar to cellar and seeing people in the lake and equating thinking with living, but then the better connection to draw would be between the two Thomas Schells.

Second of all, there were small images that were referenced in both chapters. In "Happiness," Oskar sees a clothesline for the first time and Alice black was covered in charcoal. In "WINWYA," Thomas sees a charcoal-stained shirt hanging from a clothes line, and the "charcoal stained" is circled, so the author wanted people to notice it. There's also a line in "WINWYA" that says, "...sometimes I take [an encyclopedia] down and read about other people's lives, kings, actresses, assasins, judges, anthropologists, tennis champions,..." and so on. Apart from one of the Blacks being someone who had wanted to be an actor, that is very similar to what Oskar is doing, only he's visiting people instead of reading a book.

Eleven pages and god knows how many words that say nothing at all.........and "My Feelings".

Sarah Worth’s critique of Foer’s chapter “My feelings” in Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close is that the thoughts are jumbled, and the quality of the “seamlessness” is lost, giving way to and “unconventional” style that leaves the reader in confusion as to what the purpose of the chapter is about. However, this jumbled, seemingly random pattern is how Foer conveys the definition of human existence. A person’s feelings are shaped by sum experiences, the sum total of all thoughts and background of a person. Though this chapter, Foer is trying to convey that the human experience forms feelings, and that the human experience, or fate is out of our control, because a force larger than ourselves is working around us, shaping, our feelings, and who we are. “I was always moving them around, trying to make connections. I wanted to understand” (79), is the theme of this chapter, which is the desire, the need for humanity to understand itself. Foer conveys that to understand ourselves, we must try to relate our feelings to other events, and then connect those events, because that string of connection is what holds the pieces of meaning in our life together.
Through the “jumbled” prose, Foer merely creates an invitation into the mind of Oskar’s grandmother, allowing us to enter into the un-linear thought process of making decisions, of living. As people age, they gain more experience, and use that experience to influence future decisions. By using flashbacks of conversation and events of the Grandmother, Foer develops the complexity of life, and to what extent our past experiences shape us. This conveys the truth that our past events are always on our minds, and we must look towards our past to move on in our future. Instead of trying to analyze the spacing and changes in conversation, the reader should take the structure as merely a structure used to convey thoughts. For example, when on page 83, when Foer uses many short sentences,
“The birds would sing in the other room.
I would undress.
He would position me.
He would sculpt me.
Sometimes I would think about those hundred letters laid across my bedroom floor. If I hadn’t collected them, would our house have burned less brightly?” (83), it merely expresses the complex thought process of an individual. Connecting present thoughts and events to past thoughts and events is Foer’s tool to develop the narrator’s history, and at the same time, giving the reader a closeness to the character. Here, Foer is not being profound or intellectual, he merely writes in a very expressive way, taking what all people innately have, feelings, and writing them on paper. Certain thoughts, certain images, and Foer’s ability to relate those universally to many readers is what makes him an accomplished, a celebrated author.
Foer has so much insight unto the average stream of consciousness; his art is to write nothing, and let it express so much. To let it express the human experience. Foer uses loaded language and images that create unspoken profound statements, such as the closing dialogue,
" Why does anyone ever make love?
He took his pen and wrote on the next and last page, No children.
That was our fist rule.
I understand, I told him in English.
We never used German again.
The next day, your grandfather and I were married" (85)
and one insight developed in class, “Foer is trying to say the banal, the everyday occurrences, is what makes life on the whole meaningful”. As an author, he takes phrases that could mean so much, like “Together and separately” (84), but really forces the reader to interpret all of the words to mean something, something individually profound. Foer doesn’t use words to “symboclially…point to something”(Sarah Worth, English Blog, Foer response, pages 75-107), He makes the reader do all of the work, receiving all of the credit. As an author, Foer has the talent of drawing the reader into a story, using language to create a history, using eleven pages of text, with god knows how many words to describe the chapter “my feelings”, but in reality saying nothing at all.

"The Only Animal" (Christina Koenig)

In the chapter titled “The Only Animal,” Oskar discusses some minute details about elephants with Abby Black in order to endear himself to her. Most of the information he relates focuses on elephants’ survival and communication techniques – their ESP-like ability to sense friends and danger from far away and their incredible memory of the voices of dead family members. Unknowingly, Oskar was reaching out to this woman, not just by impressing her with his seemingly limitless knowledge of elephant behavior, but by subconsciously sharing part of his own story, his own personal tragedy, with her. Until Oskar starts explaining about the elephants’ memory of other elephant voices, Abby had not really seemed genuinely interested in his lecture, making only courteous remarks (like “I don’t know” and “sure”) in order to keep the conversation going. But as soon as he mentions how fascinated he is by their ability to recall the voice of a lost loved one, she begins to sense that this ability is somehow very important to this precocious, odd little boy. So she begins to prompt him for more information with more relevant questions: “I wonder what they were feeling…was it with love that they approached the jeep? Or fear? Or anger?...Did they charge?...Did they cry?” Interestingly, Oskar claims not to remember what the article stated about her questions (interesting that such a brilliant mind should forget something that would be so important in such a study…I think Oskar feigned ignorance because he wasn’t ready to discuss something so emotionally wounding with a stranger – just like he avoided talking to Aaron Black earlier). Instead, he latches on to her last query and explains that “only humans can cry tears,” only to be surprised by the photo of the “crying” elephant (which I found quite disturbing, to tell the truth). This revelation that perhaps humans are not the only animals capable of shedding tears parallels his realization that this woman is also in some sort of emotional pain, just like he is. This revelation about what unites people and his later statement about what separates humans from other animals – blushing, laughing, religion, war, and kissing – forces him to rethink his relative significance (the theme introduced some fourteen pages earlier). Although we have seen already that Oskar is very sensitive to the needs and sorrows of others (as exhibited in many of his life-saving inventions and his list of sadness which gets him out of school), it is in this chapter that he begins to understand and be so absorbed in the details of others’ lives that he, for a few moments, “[forgets] the whole reason [he] was there,” and so begins to heal his wounds by realizing and interesting himself in the shared experiences of humanity.

Many Things to Talk About (By: Sarah Wirth)

I'd first like to start out by mentioning how uncomfortable it is for me to read this novel. In relation to media studies, regarding classical Hollywood style of cinema, film viewers are accustomed to a sense of "seamlessness" when watching a movie. Things seem to fit together neatly and follow a linear progression of time. When a film does not fit this expectation, it creates a sense of pleasure with toil. Likewise, reading a novel that does not fit this anticipation of a seamless reading experience tends to have a similar effect on a reader. This concept leads me to wonder what work Foer is trying to do by utilizing such unconventional style: jumbled conversations that lack paragraph breaks between speakers, strings of ideas lending little rhyme or reason to their order, extra spacing between sentences, flash backs composed by Oskar's grandparents. All of these things are doing something, I simply can't put my finger on what that something might be, specifically. I would think them to be symbolic, but of what specifically, I am having a hard time pin-pointing.

Concerning Thursday's reading, this idea of a play on style most notably takes place in the "MY FEELINGS" chapter. I immediately found myself greeted with a sense of discomfort at the outset of this section. The unusual breaks between sentences followed by the censored text in Oskar's grandmother's letter had me re-reading the first page of the chapter before semi-comfortably moving on. What do these breaks mean? Are they simply symbolic of a break in thought, or do they represent a lapse of memory, or holes in his grandmother's story that need filling: places to insert your imagination, giving her story a chance to breath while the reader's mind fills in the blanks with images of who these people are, how they looked, how they felt... These breaks do not occur, though, when the grandmother is quoting a letter someone else has written her. I have also considered what she says on page 83 to be a clue as to what these breaks may represent. She says, in relation to Oskar's grandfather, "His attention filled the hole in the middle of me." Maybe these breaks are now holes from the loss of her son.

I am eager to bring this up in class and see what other people's thoughts are on this. I have yet to come up with a comfortable conclusion to satisfy my curiosity. 

Another thing I couldn't help but notice in this chapter are the parallels between the grandmother's tale of being a curious child and Oskar's. As Oskar searches for clues to find the lock to his father's key, his grandmother searched for an answer as to whom composed the letters from jail many years prior. As Oskar received an oversized white jacket from his grandmother, she received an oversized bracelet from her grandfather because "Its size was supposed to be a symbol of his love" (79). 

Finally, as many odds and ends are on my mind regarding this text, I'd like to bring attention to the recurring theme of flying and birds. In keeps with the "MY FEELINGS" chapter, such references jump up often. "I thought about birds.   Could they fly if there wasn't someone, somewhere, laughing" (78)? "She (Oskar's great-great-grandmother) asked her father for a dove.   Instead he bought her a scarf.   So she thought of the scarf as a dove.   She even convinced herself that it contained flight..." (79). "She (grandmother's sister, Anna) laughed enough to migrate en entire flock of birds" (80). "Birds sang in the other room" (83).  Could all of these references allude to the idea of the plane crashing into the trade center (flying like a bird), or people jumping from the building (flying like birds). I especially think of this allusion from the first quote I listed from page 78, "Could they fly if there wasn't someone, somewhere, laughing?" Or, were these people simply falling to their death?

What Will Oskar Find On His Search? (Allison McDermid)

 

**First of all, I want to say when I started reading this novel, and the point of view changed from Oskar to the grandfather, I generally thought it was the same narrator- just in a different time.  This being said, I am wondering how the grandfather will be brought back into the story, since he was never even a part of Oskar’s life.  Will he just appear within the grandmother’s memory?  Perhaps he will return unexpectedly.  How do his notes get compiled with Oskar’s and the grandmother’s?**

 

After our class discussion of the events of 9/11, I tried to imagine what it would be like to actually be a family member of one of the victims.  Even harder for me to imagine:  being one of the victims.  If I were a victim who jumped out of a window at the World Trade Center, I would jump upon the basis that it was MY decision.  It would be ME taking MY own life and not a terrorist threat to the nation.  After thinking about this, all the people that were lost, and lives that were destroyed, it was difficult for me to put myself in Oskar’s shoes.

 

Oskar seems like a sarcastic teenager, not a nine year old.  He reminds me of a young Dave Eggers, dark and omniscient.  Although he is only a child, he has had to grow up fast with the events of his father’s death.  He holds the tapes that share his father’s last few minutes, however, he chooses to hide these from everyone.  Oskar says his favorite person, besides his father, is his grandmother.   Oskar’s grandmother shares a private scene with Oskar through a letter in the chapter, “My Feelings.”

 

In this letter, Oskar’s grandmother describes how she met his grandfather and how they ended up, eventually, married.  There is a twist with her story, because Thomas, Oskar’s grandfather, was originally in love with her sister, Anna.  They do not discuss the past or Anna, although Thomas is clearly still in love with her.  I think that some of the significance of Oskar’s search lies within these chapters not narrated by him.  I think that if he tries to find where the key belongs, Oskar will either be disappointed completely, or he will find something out about his grandfather, not his father like he thought.  Though Oskar is the protagonist, the real story is not about him, or even the tragedy of 9/11.  The real story lies between the grandparents—or else the other chapters would be from the point of view of the father.  

Oskar as Post-9/11 America

The most interesting part of Foer’s Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close so far, and specifically this most recently assigned passage, are the parallels between precocious little Oskar and post-9/11 America:
The fictional nine year old Oskar Schell lost his father in the largest attack on American soil since Pearl Harbor, leaving him feeling lost and alone. After finding a key his father had left hidden, and with the word “Black” written on the envelope the key was found in as his only clue, he begins on an investigation throughout the five boroughs of New York City for the mysterious “Black”. Oskar’s task seems overwhelmingly daunting: to knock on the door of everyone with the name “Black” in New York City. And, seeing as how is unsure as to whether the “Black” written on the envelope is even a name, he realizes that I may all lead to nothing. But “even if it was relatively insignificant… [he] needed to do something.” Similarly to Oskar, in the days and months following September 11, 2001, Americans were left frightened, some may even say paranoid. And so there was little questioning done in 2003 when President Bush announced that Saddam Hussein had weapons of mass destruction and was also possibly harboring terrorists, making him a threat to the United States. The planners of 9/11 were yet to be found and the threat of another terrorist attack on American soil was still fresh in their minds. Despite the fact that many were not sure if Iraq had anything to do with 9/11 (weren’t we already in Afghanistan?), many Americans at the time did not ask questions. Because standing by and hoping that the terrorists were found before they found their next target was not an option. Appearing weak and vulnerable was not an option. American foreign policy has been all over the board in the last century, leaving modern Americans unsure of their countries role in the world. As supposedly the world’s only superpower, is it not America’s duty to aid others? And if so, how far does it go? Should the U.S. put its own troops, its own people at risk? But suddenly the United States was attacked and suddenly Americans no longer felt invincible. The days months and years after September 11 have and will continue to be a journey of self-exploration for the United States of America. Much like Oskar’s.

Grandma and Oskar- The resemblance

I found some interesting parallels between the grandma and Oskar. Looking back the grandmas past, she took a letter from the mail which left her with the desire to find answers. She said, “I never told my father or mother about it. For weeks I was awake all night wondering” (76). The man in the letter was in a labor camp and she wanted to find out how he knew her family and why they receieved this letter 15 years later. “I had a letter from everyone I knew. I laid them out on my bedroom floor, and organized them by what they shared. One hundred letters. I was always moving them around, trying to make connections. I wanted to understand” (79).

I am not exactly sure if this connection will be important for the rest of the novel, but the grandma’s experience sound similar to her grandson, Oskar. He has the same motivation and curiosity his mother had. He exemplifies her characteristics with his determination to find the owner of the key as he believes that will give him answers somehow.

The grandma and Oskar rely on each other for everything now. He often slept with the walkie talkie right by him. “She hollered, which woke me up, obviously, so my sleep depended on her sleep, and when I told her, no bad dreams, I was talking to her”(104). It is interesting that Oskar says, “What were we spending so much time doing if not getting to know eachother (105).” I think Oskar feels as though they simply spend a lot of time together, but doesn’t see the true character that lies within both of them.

Two last parts I have questions about are Abby Black and Anna.

I feel as I continue to read the importance arrive having to do with Oskar’s visit with Abby black. What does the desperate man, her husband, represent? Something having to do with tragedy, perhaps.

Last, I understand the connection between Anna, her sister, and Thomas—but what happened to Anna? I am curious to see if their relationship turns into a deeper love or if it simply based off the need for each other.

The Art of a Coy Woman, a Manipulator...

Opening Scene of Act III:
Modern Set, with an inclusive audience, where, downstage the audience is seated, while the large middle aisle is empty wood planks with old theatre lights on the cusp of the stage, while upstage is cold metal stairs with a balcony serving as the judge and witness stand of a courtroom. Empty stage aisle. One performer is standing center downstage. Dark, but warm yellow and red shadows envelope the stage. As the opening chords of “Music from the “Death Scene” blare[s] over the house speakers” (84), we see the back of aged white hair with the opening light, and the character is in a frozen position; half-crouched, eyes closed, looking up, a painful expression with hands reaching, fingers open, a sign of desperation. The figure, we realize is Gallimard, falls to the ground, sobbing, “crawing towards song’s wig and kimono” (84), while the melody to “Con Honour Muore” is still playing, but softly. Clutching the ornate delicate fabric and overly soft hair, the two objects are what Gallimard clings to in his overly emotional state, for they are the only remembrance of his Song, his “Butterfly” (84), whom he cries out for. “Hwang has purposely structured the play in a way that highlights and explains the racial stereotype that western men hold over eastern women” (Katie Tyring, Blog, April 8, 2009). Throughout Act III, scene 2, Hwang uses structure of the play; music, stage direction, and dialogue to create powerful performances that leave an impression on the emotions of the audience, leaving them questioning the “Stereotypical belief of Eastern women…that western men hold over eastern women” (Katie Trying, Blog, April 8, 2009). As Song in Act III, scene 2 speaks to Gallimard, the dialogue he uses imitating his role as a woman demonstrates his control over Gallimard. Song: “(Reprising his feminine character, he sidles up to Gallimard) “How I wish there were even a small café to sit in. With men in tuxedos, and cappuccinos, and bad expatriate jazz.” Now you want to kiss me, don’t you?” (86).Gallimard (Pulling away): What makes you-?Song:- so sure?Demonstrated by this dialogue is Song’s control over Gallimard, solely exhibited by acting, by fulfilling the role of the ideal Eastern woman. In the beginning of the scene, before Song fully reveals himself as a man by stripping, in Gallimard’s eyes, Song is still a woman, so there is an evident power on Song’s side and vulnerability on Gallimard’s side. Hwang conveys that by identifying with the western male role, one is vulnerable, because they have allowed themselves to be overtaken by believing in the image of the fallacy of the “eastern woman” (Katie Tyring, Blog, April 8). Hwang expresses the irony that to believe in the fallacy of the ideal eastern woman gives the western man who wants to “protect” (16) the eastern woman in his “western arms”(in class video, based on Act I, scene 6) a false sense of power. When Song strips, revealing himself as a man, the power play within the scene is changed, Song having the diminutive, vulnerable role, and Gallimard, his role now as the woman in the scene, exhibiting power. Song’s questioning of “What?”(89), and “So-you never really loved me? Only when I was playing a part?” (89) places him no longer in the confident and controlling role, but as the partner who must rely on the other for affirmation. Songs’ further dialogue “It’s all in the way we dress, and make up our faces, and bat our eyelashes” (90), expresses Gallimard’s shallowness of vision, and how he must believe in the eastern stereotype of a woman to find love and fulfillment, and how he cannot live any other way. Through the death scene, Hwang expresses that “ Gallimard’s stereotypical beliefs of Easten woman turned against him for the worst” (Katie Tyring, Blog, April 8, 2009), when at this point Gallimard cannot live without the reassurance of his stereotype and must take his own life, as Madame butterfly chooses to in the “Death Scene” of the opera Madame Butterfly.

a note on M Butterfly

An interesting point in M Butterfly is how it plays on the stereotype of how other races "all look the same." In the opera Madama Butterfly, the character of Butterfly is a Japanese woman, yet in the play, Song is Chinese. The substitution of Chinese actor for a Japanese role critiques Western view of Asians and how all of Asia is the same; the East is one single feminine entity that will submit to Western power.

Gallimard mentions that when he sees Song on stage, it is the first time that he truly believes in the play, yet Song is Chinese not Japanese. The mere fact that Song is Asian suffices to fulfill Gallimard's fantasy of the perfect and ideal woman.

This generalization or stereotyping of Asian appearance to Western eyes, despite vast ethnic differences, still continues today. For example, the 2005 film "Memoirs of a Geisha" (which one several Oscar awards) has a Chinese lead even though the plot is about a Japanese girl raised in the lifestyle of a geisha in pre-WWII Japan. Much like the use of non-Puerto Ricans in "West Side Story," "Memoirs of a Geisha" demonstrates the inherent racism or biases in Western media and film.

"My name is Rene Gallimard—also known as Madame Butterfly" (Samantha Park)

One of the most outstanding questions that arises throughout the plot of David Henry Hwang’s play, M Butterfly, is that of how Gallimard did not know that Song Liling was a man throughout the entirety of their affair. Indeed, how is it that this affair, that spanned several years and was consummated, enabled Song to disguise himself as a woman for so long, and so completely? The relationship between Gallimard and Song was allowed to continue without breaking the illusion simply, because people do see what they want to (or that people will refuse to see something that they do not, no matter how much evidence there is to the contrary).

Gallimard saw first Song in the role of Butterfly and refused to dissociate the actor from the part. The role of Butterfly is representative of the “ideal woman” and more so typifies for Western audiences (particularly Western men) the Asian woman. Butterfly is the submissive, feminine woman ready to give everything up for the powerful (or not) Western man.

Puccini’s opera exemplifies Western foreign policy with the East and how the West perceives the East as some sort of mystical, seductive beauty that bends to the will of the more superior West. If Butterfly, the symbol of Asian women and the East as a whole, can so easily submit to Pinkerton, a good-for-nothing American ass, then the East must indeed be inferior, thus feminine. With this outlook, Westerners assume that Asia is the archetypal damsel in distress that needs saving. Therefore, the West can never see the East as an equal; the East cannot be masculine or powerful. That is how Song is able to disguise himself as a woman.

In the courtroom scene in the opening of Act Three, Scene One, Song explains to the judge how he was able to pass a woman to Gallimard for so long. He states that:

As soon as a Western man comes into contact with the East—he’s already confused. The West has a sort of an international rape mentality towards the East…The West thinks of itself as masculine—big guns, big industry, big money—so the East is feminine—weak, delicate, poor…The West believes that the East, deep down, wants to be dominated—because a woman can’t think for herself…[and when Gallimard] finally met his fantasy woman, he wanted more than anything to believe that she was, in fact, a woman…I am an Oriental. And being an Oriental, I could never completely be a man. (III. iii. 82-83).

Gallimard so readily accepted Song as a woman because he was Asian. He first saw song in the role of Butterfly, the pre-accepted concept of Asia and Asian women by Western audiences, and transferred that to the actor who played Butterfly (conveniently forgetting that Song was no longer on stage in character). If he ever noticed something different while he was with Song, Gallimard associated Song’s behavior or differences in anatomy as some form of “Chinese modesty” or the fact that Song was Asian, thus foreign and allowed to be different. More so, if indeed Gallimard recognized Song as a man in terms of biology, he himself would never see Song as an actual man; a man that could be powerful and strong, because that violates the stereotype of the inferiority of Asians. Gallimard’s mind simply rejected the idea that Song was indeed a man and persisted that Song was his Butterfly and that any anomalies were merely the fact that Asian “women” were just different from the women he was used to.

Furthermore, Gallimard as a symbol of the West demonstrates the severe bias and assumption that the West has towards the East and foreign policy in Asia. In order for the West to feel superior, to feel that they have the “big guns,” it is necessary that the West deny Eastern power or individuality. No, the East needs to be dominated by the better West.

Gallimard refuses to admit that Song is a man, even when deep down inside he knows the truth. Just like in the Vietnam War, where the West refused to pull out and admit defeat. Because defeat at the hands of Asians, of “women,” is intolerable. This persistence in Eastern inferiority continues to this day. Maybe this view is merely the West projecting its own inferiorities on to an easier “target.” Perhaps the West is the true Butterfly, and simply needs to see the East as it really is, an equal.

The ol' switcheroo (Michael Reschke)

I think the reason Song starts narrating the play instead of Gallimard at the end of the second act is to signify another switch.

At the beginning of the play Gallimard introduces the audience to his favorite opera, Madame Butterfly. Gallimard and Marc act out some of the opera. Gallimard plays Pinkerton, the white man from the western world that Madame Butterfly falls in love with. In the opera, Pinkerton leaves and never returns and Butterfly becomes so heartbroken when she realizes her western man won’t return she kills herself. Gallimard likes to think of himself as Pinkerton, and when he meets Song, he believes she is his Butterfly.

What actually happens to Gallimard is that instead of really falling in love with Song, he falls in love with the fantasy he’s living. When Song strips in scene two of act three and proves without a doubt to Gallimard that he is a man, Gallimard says, “You showed me your true self. When all I loved was the lie,” (89).

In scene three Hwang makes it clear that Gallimard wasn’t Pinkerton, he was actually Butterfly. According to stage directions Gallimard picks up Song’s Kimono and he “makes up” his face. He puts on the Butterfly wig and the kimono and then, “turns upstage and plunges the knife into his body,” (93).

After Gallimard kills himself Song is seen standing “as a man,” (93). Song smokes a cigarette, which seems to suggest indifference to Gallimard’s death.

This role reversal seems to suggest that everything that was said about Asians in this play is actually referring to people of the west. The play ends with Gallimard, who is representative of the west, is last seen on the ground in women’s clothing, defeated. Song, who represents the east, stands “as a man” having done the job he set out do to.

Hwang explains this best in the afterword: “the Frenchman fantasizes that he is Pinkerton and his lover is Butterfly. By the end of the piece, he realizes that is is he who has been Butterfly, in that the Frenchman has been duped by love; the Chinese spy, who exploited that love, is therefore the real Pinkerton.”

Monsieur Butterfly: Act III (Katie Tyring)

Act III of David Henry Hwang’s M. Butterfly contains yet another surprise for the audience. It is in these final scenes of the play that the revelation of Song as a man is played out both in court and in a final encounter between Song and Gallimard. Hwang has purposely structured the play in a way that highlights and explains the racial stereotype that Western men hold over Eastern women, and then proceeds to prove this stereotype as utterly wrong.

Scene 1 of Act III consists of a conversation between the judge of the courtroom and Song in which several questions that the reader/audience may have been wondering are brought to attention. Clearly, everyone wants to know how Gallimard could not know that Song was, in fact, a man if they were engaging in sexual relations—for 20 years. Song replies simply, stating “men always believe what they want to hear” (82). Gallimard believed Song was a woman “because when he finally met his fantasy woman, he wanted more than anything to believe that she was, in fact, a woman” (83). Also within his answer to the judge, Song includes a concise explanation of how the Western man views the Eastern woman. He describes it as the “international rape mentality towards the East” (82) in which “her mouth says no, but her eyes say yes” (83). The idea of Eastern women as modest and shy is prominent throughout the play, as is the notion that Eastern women actually want to be dominated by Western men. What upsets this Eastern stereotype is completely uncovered in scenes 2 and 3.

In scene 2, Song and Gallimard switch roles. Just as Gallimard found joy in forcing Butterfly to admit her shame in the letter, Song is also mercilessly attempting to force Gallimard to admit his undying love for him, even as a man. Song prods at Gallimard, saying “Now, open your eyes and admit it—you adore me” (89). Recall the “international rape mentality”. Gallimard’s mouth is saying no, but Song prompts him to “open [his] eyes”. In the end, Gallimard realizes that he, himself, is Butterfly. He has given up everything—even his freedom—in pursuit of Butterfly. He has been pinned, quite literally, and tragically ends his story with the announcement of his true name: Madame Butterfly. Clearly, Gallimard’s stereotypical beliefs of Eastern woman turned against him for the worst.

Gender and Sexuality in Act III--Megan Janicki

By Act III, it is apparent that Song is a man. What I think is still unclear, however, is what his sexuality is. He discusses with the Judge in Scene One the difference between the West and the East and how Western people feminize the East. He says, "The West believes the East, deep down, wantsto be dominated--because a woman can't think for herself" (83). He uses this as an answer to the question about how he believes Gallimard was fooled for twenty years by his sex. He continues to show the ways that the East has been gendered as feminine to the judge, and even that the West has a "rape mentality" (82) toward the East.
He uses all of these gendered descriptions of the East and the West, but more specifically he is speaking of the role he played with Gallimard for twenty years. Ironically, however, he got the best of Gallimard, as he was spying on him all along, and Gallimard is the one that ended up being dominated. This twist is furthered with Scene Two as the two men try to decipher their feelings for one another. There is a power struggle, as Gallimard initially refuses to look at Song the same, and then ends up laughing at him. Song wants Gallimard to admit that he "adores [him]" (89, I assume to gain power in the relationship.
Finally, in Scene Three, Gallimard admits that he loved an ideal--the stereotype of "Oriental" women. He was living in this fantasy, and enjoying what he believed to be power and the submission of an Asian woman. With one final ironic twist, the gender roles of the play are again diverted from, and Gallimard becomes Butterfly, abandoning the dominating, Western role of Pinkerton. He kills himself, identifying with the role of Butterfly, saying that he cannot live with (and finally looking at Butterfly's perspective differently)knowing that "the object of [his] love was nothing more, nothing less than...a man" (92).

Act III Response: The Greater Meaning of Gallimard's Character (by Jessi Ensenberger)

In Act III, scene two, Gallimard and Song have a very interesting conversation.  Song is very rude and domineering, saying things like, "C'mon. Admit it. You still want me. Even in slacks and a button-down collar" (85).  His arrogance and complete disregard for Gallimard's feelings makes him seem like a womanizer himself.  I believe the author meant to insinuate that Song has been Pinkerton all along.  

In conjunction with this role reversal, Gallimard turns into Butterfly at the end of Act III, donning her kimono and wig.  This gives very strong implications that Gallimard was, in fact, the woman in his relationship with Butterfly.  Thinking back to earlier scenes, Gallimard had felt so empowered and manly from tricking Butterfly into sending him letters and giving him her shame.  When it turns out it is actually he who has been duped (and he finally accepts this fact in the previous scene when Song drops his pants), he transforms into Butterfly, the woman because women are the ones stereotypically "fooled" by love.

It is also interesting to note that, while Gallimard is the butterfly and has figuratively been "captured" by Song, Gallimard is also literally captured--in prison.  I consider this very nice foreshadowing that Hwang sets up in the very beginning of the play.

For a moment I thought that Gallimard had learned from his story.  Specifically, that male/female and West/East stereotypes are incorrect and highly insulting.  After all, Gallimard had been in denial for years about Song's true gender.  Accepting Song as a man has to mean he understands, right?

Wrong.

Gallimard says, "Tonight, I've finally learned to tell fantasy from reality" (90).  Okay, that's good news!  Then he continues:  "And, knowing the difference, I choose fantasy."  While he accepts Song as a man, he does not accept that stereotypes and fantasies are what have ultimately harmed him.

Because Gallimard is a symbol of Western culture, I believe there is a tie to the Vietnam War.   To me, the Vietnam War was a misperception not much different from Gallimard's misperception of Song's gender.  Gallimard saw Song as a submissive woman who he could save in his "big Western arms" because it was his fantasy.  The American government saw what they wanted to see in Vietnam because their fantasy was to save a country from communism and spread democracy.

However, has America realized this yet?  I believe many have not.  In fact, I think many see it as a mistake, just as Gallimard sees his predicament; but, also like Gallimard, they have yet to address the stereotypes that led them to disaster.

Hwang's M. Butterfly- Act I Response

I thought it was interesting to read everyone else’s opinions on the first act of M. Butterfly.  I agree with Keaton that the beginning is a little confusing, since the characters are acting as other characters.  I also agree with his take on Marc’s character, the Western man who seems to be a misogynist.  However, the entry that I found most interesting was Meryn’s comparison of the letters to the “Five Stages of Loss and Grief.”  I never made this comparison before she brought it up in class and I got a more thorough view of her point while reading her blog entry.  After looking at the differences between the four letters, I also believe that they also reflect the way a woman’s mind works.  Personally speaking, I know I jump from one thing to another in my mind and these different topics always have me feeling different emotions.  So the letters, I believe are just Song’s thoughts sprawled out in words.  Song is indecisive of her emotions toward Gallimard and is simply going back and forth between her emotions- including him through the letters.  Another example that reminds me of Song’s indecisiveness is my friend who recently broke up with her boyfriend.  She constantly goes from wanting him back, to despising him and then is idle in confusion. 

In my opinion, Gallimard sees Song as a conquest.  He uses these letters as an experiment, to see if he could make her love him by ignoring her, and he only goes to see her when it is convenient for him.  Actions like this help Gallimard feel like the masculine Western man, especially since he was pretty much shot down the first time he met Song.  Gallimard is a lot like Romeo from Romeo and Juliet, in that he does not act like the other men around him and he is more emotional, like a woman.  He even started to have another affair after Song, with a young woman named Renee, possibly in hopes to be viewed as a real man by Marc.  It is hard for me to predict what will happen in Gallimard’s search for acceptance, but I have refrained myself from reading the editor’s note and the back of the book.

Me Not Love You Long Time

Breaking down the fourth wall and the use of a play within a play was a choice by Hwang to better cement the themes and to give him the ability to allude to outside material. I have my issues with this play but its meta-quality does allow us to better understand the characters and their personalities, even though action and dialogue will always do this genuinely better, in my opinion.

When telling the audience about Madame Butterfly, Gaullimard gives us a look into his own personality from his reaction to the opera. “Don’t we who are men sigh with hope? We, who are not handsome, nor brave, nor powerful, yet somehow believe, like Pinkerton, that we deserve a Butterfly.” (p10) I believe this underscores the main themes this play attempts to play around with – control and expectation. Gaullimard is like Pinkerton in the way that he views women, particularly Asian women. And it is the romanticized notion of the Orient described in the retelling of the opera that intrigues Gaullimard to pursue and exhibit control over the Chinese actress Song. Gaullimard is, it is fair to say, ugly, hesitant, and shy – a wiener, if you will. He is someone who lives a mediocre existence, married to a less-than mediocre wife. What helps him along is playing out a fantasy within his own life. Can you blame the guy? It is only that he cannot foresee the long and hard consequences…

My big beef with the play is that it takes too long in Act 1 to retell Madame Butterfly. All writers steal their ideas from somewhere. It’s just that you have to shape those ideas your own way, to personalize them and hopefully add on to them. It almost irritates me to know that Hwang uses the opera as such a big crutch to explain the character of Gallimard, however. All this is in light of the fact that he leans so heavily on the real-life events written about at the time.

And how else is there to tell a story that leans so heavily on outside ideas than by taking a distanced view of the events through a meta-narrative? I do not think it is possible for this story. Well, never say never, but the logistics of the whole thing would be very hard, and so he gets credit for tying it together.

I can imagine how the initial concept of writing the play unfolded. He read some newspaper article and had the bright idea to retell it, only to realize, having been enlightened by a friend, that it would be too similar to Puccini’s opera. So, why not just throw it in for reference as well? One could visualize the play in this way: a legless man - perhaps a eunuch - supported by two crutches with the ability to fly.

(ps. the title is perhaps in bad taste, no, it is in bad taste. it is used simply because it reflects my frustration.)

Attraction to Reality

In Hwang’s M. Butterfly, the modern style of the work, with an emphasis on emotion of the dialogue and repetition to elicit a strong reaction is very effective tool to create the mood of the piece. Although the plot is unclear at times, Hwang’s usage of short scenes full of emotions and uncertainties of everyday life as opposed to the banalities of the everyday create the dramatic and intense pace of the play. Focusing on the short scenes of importance remembered by the Gallimard, these quick scenes bring a feel of the actual progression of memory to the work, for the style is reminiscent of the seemingly unguided feel of the stream of consciousness of people, giving the work a sense of authenticity.
Hwang’s work, like much of the modern drama writers, is to portray a familiar story in an unfamiliar way, challenging the audience’s point of view, or perception of the world. In Hwang’s M. Butterfly, the traditional opera is set to a more modern setting, which creates an impression, or mood in the reader that the story that is being read, in fact, can be an ongoing story, adding to the quick pace. The Playwright’s notes, which claim the play was “suggested by international newspaper accounts”, indicate the authenticity of this play, as does the highly charged and introspective thoughts of Gallimard, such as “I lied to my wife. Why?” (23) and real dialogue such as “Hey, Rene- it doesn’t matter that youre clumsy and got zits- they’re not looking!” (9). These short scenes developed by Hwang develop the real-life aspect of this play, drawing the audience into the muti-layered aspect of the performance.

"To Ophelia" - response to Chrissie White's post

M. Butterfly is dedicated “To Ophelia;” I will be the first to admit that, having not read Hamlet (yet), I don’t know much about Ophelia, but I do know that she and Song have some surprising similarities. Ophelia, as the beloved girlfriend of the great prince Hamlet, is an idealized noblewoman – the perfect match for a heroic prince. Song, according to Gallimard, is also the epitome of a “Perfect Woman” (because he associates her immediately with Cio-Cio-San, another famous heroine) (4). Gallimard considers Song to be “beautiful and brave” – brave enough to take her own life (as Ophelia and Butterfly did) over the loss of someone she loved (5). Both females are appealing to a man like Gallimard because they are beautiful and seemingly powerless (instead of fighting back or leaving their men, they kill themselves).
More important than their individual similarities as women is their similar treatment by their husband/boyfriend: Gallimard abruptly abandons Song, and Hamlet loses his temper with and degrades Ophelia. Interestingly, both men use the only women they have any control over to go on a power trip. As Chrissie points out, these types of men are prone to abusing the types of women they seek and seemingly want to love. Gallimard’s lack of control over all other women in his life – from the “superior” Isabelle to his un-romantic (and therefore unworthy of being controlled) wife, Helga – has prepared him to unleash every ounce of pent-up oppression on the first beautiful woman who takes interest in him (33). Similarly, Hamlet has no control over the actions of his mother, the queen, and must feel as though Ophelia, as his inferior in rank and gender, is the perfect outlet for his frustrations.
Significantly, both Gallimard and Hamlet twist the traditional masculine and feminine gender roles to oppress their women. Hamlet, in a fit of rage, commands poor Ophelia: “Get thee to a nunnery” – nunneries being the place for women to take shelter and vows of chastity. Essentially, Hamlet orders Ophelia to: 1) get out of his sight, and 2) seek shelter, as a member of the weaker sex, in a sanctuary – both severe blows to the woman who loved Hamlet, and who subsequently felt betrayed by him. Gallimard believes he is toying with Song’s womanly heart by refusing to attend the Peking Opera or even answer her letters. It is only after Song confesses, “I have already given you my shame,” that Gallimard begins to regret his cruel “experiment” (31). Like Hamlet, he abuses his dominant role in the relationship (the role traditionally given to the man) by forcing Song to feel the emotional pain of a spurned and neglected woman.
I believe David Henry Hwang dedicated this play “To Ophelia” to show his sympathy with her plight, but also to criticize her suicide. Instead of killing herself, Ophelia should have spoken up to Hamlet – as his closest friend (as his girlfriend), she could have helped him through his trauma and his difficulties. Hwang wants others, including those in his play, to learn from Ophelia’s mistake: being rejected by a lover is not the end of the world, and it is no reason to throw away your own life.

Response to Chrissie's Post

I agree with Chrissie – Gallimard’s motives for treating women a great deal worse than his fellow male counterparts are quite questionable. When it comes to his unfaithful tendencies towards his wife, Helga, and his desire to dominate a submissive Japanese woman, a great deal is left for the audience to imagine/wonder (as Chrissie mentioned in her post)- “What [is it] about Helga that makes [Gallimard] distance himself from her?” However, I would dare to derive more psychological conclusions from Gallimard’s actions.

         While I agree – Gallimard seems to “believe ‘all men want a beautiful woman, and the uglier the man, the greater the want’ (14),” I feel as though it isn’t solely the unhappiness with the appearance of his wife that allows him to feel so unsatisfied with his current romantic condition. Instead, his own insecurities regarding his appearance and sexual experience, are being projected onto woman in order to transfer the root of his perceived problems from his own issue to that of attractive women who think they’re too good for a nice guy like him.

         In other words, Galimard’s sour attitude towards women and power is a critique on the influence pop culture has on exaggerating our expectations of the opposite sex to an extent so great, our own personal insecurities and “inadequacies” are painted as abnormal and limiting rather than natural and acceptable. Thus, instead of feeling comfortable with his current romantic, sexual situation, he searches for more because media culture (such as the scandalous magazine he fantasizes about) sends him the message that he is to be in control. Women are submissive objects. The ideal woman is a model of physical perfection who says no more than exactly what you wish to hear. You have not succeeded until you have achieved this in real life…..

         Helga, who’s name in itself does not paint a particularly appealing picture, comes across as heavy. It does not roll off the tongue figuratively or literally. There lies no mystery behind it. M Butterfly, on the other hand, seems mysterious, something that floats, flutters, is elegant, and girlish.          Therefore, the play as a whole, even down to the selection of character names, plays on this male fantasy of domination, but it does so with an ironic twist. In his quest to fulfill media-induced expectations, Gallimard finds something (Song Liling) that seems so “perfect” it’s ridiculous and too good to be true.

         For this reason, I feel that it is more productive to see Gallimard as a victim of the unrealistic expectations, etc. set up by greater cultural myths rather than seeing him solely as a jerky womanizer. In doing so, a larger critique of male expectations between Western and Eastern culture, among others critiques, are opened up instead of coming to a finite conclusion that behavior such as this begins and ends with Gallimard.