Sunday, December 7, 2008
The ending and the willing suspension of disbelief
So... I feel it is safe to talk about the ending now, hopefully. I feel that the ending, with the enforced seperation of Lyra and Will, is really where the reader has to create a personal framework which to suspend disbelief from. The first reaction I had to this seperation was anger but thinking back throughout the trilogy it had to happen and nothing I can do can re-enuite them. This seperation is a must, the novel basically teaches the reader about Lyra's movement from innocence to experience and how as an adult she has to make certain choices and because of this 'experience' she can no longer be with Will. These personal stories, or framework as mentioned above, are an interesting insight into where Pullman might go or really where anyone might go with there own willing suspension of disbelief. By this I am referring to the fan fiction located on various His Dark Materials fan websites across the internet. It seems that a lot of people were mad at the ending and created a new ending, yet we know this can't happen, which I would say to my delight many fans realized and wrote somewhat of a continuation of the end of the trilogy; this was a nice insight into what Pullman does for people and how individual people create their suspension. These fan factions delve into the world, giving fictional recollections of things like the adventures of Will and Lyra's daemons after their seperation from the children before entering the land of the dead, or how Will and Lyra are still so young with pretty much there entire lives ahead of them a great deal of post trilogy fiction sheds light on there possible roads of travel. I find all of these things interesting because as Pullman says "the aim of writing is to delight" and he must really be delighting people because the responses to his trilogy are phenomenal; inspiring people of all ages to write, and not write because they have to, but just to write and suspend their own disbeliefs to create something that will force the reader of their own writing to do the same, to suspend, which starts the cycle of endless imagination.
Wednesday, December 3, 2008
paper for Child and Young Adult Lit.
John Nehring
Child and Young Adult Lit.
Lost in the Extraordinary
“The almost sensual bliss, the intoxicating blend of excitement and surrender we feel when someone says ‘Once upon a time…’ Any education that neglects this dimension of experience will be dry and tasteless with no nourishment in it. People-children especially-need this experience of delight.” Phillip Pullman
Giving oneself over to the extraordinary is complicated webbing that involves above all things art. By art I’m not framing a thought that invokes the Mona Lisa or Starry Night yet these might come to mind, but a plethora of art that is made up of the Mona Lisa but not limited to this one small piece in the larger web which includes subjects as literature, theatre, sculpture, music, opera, and so on. The arts are a way for an adolescent to start at an early stage to not forget what he/she is about on the inside.
The extraordinary isn’t something you need to search for, except for in yourself, it is in everyone and only needs to be awoken inside; this awakening goes hand in hand with the arts, negative compatibility, and a willing suspension of disbelief. For the purpose of this paper I am going to start off with the child and his connection to the extraordinary, move to the possible fall or unimaginative adulthood, and finish with a possible portal ‘back’ into the extraordinary.
A child, though open to many interpretations of what actually makes up a child, for the purpose of this paper, we will define a child as innocence. The child is innocent because the child isn’t searching for the ‘right’ meaning or even for a meaning at all, it is just there, taking what comes and forgetting what goes. The child is void of reason, truth, and an ‘un’-imagination. This is what is so beautiful about a child, it has no set path, and is free to find out through mistakes what life is asking of it. In Philip Pullman’s His Dark Materials Lyra’s journey, her destiny, can only come true if she is allowed to make mistakes: “…she must fulfill this destiny in ignorance of what she is doing, because only in her ignorance can we be saved…what it means is that she must be free to make mistakes” (Pullman 130). This is not only a statement that explains the concept of a child and how we must let them understand the world through their own eyes, but it also contains one of the key problems with society today, something I will refer to as interruption, but I will come back to that later. The idea of allowing children to make mistakes, I feel is rooted in Pullman’s lecture on “the school of morals,” which is planted in the belief that “we can learn what’s good and what’s bad, what’s generous and unselfish, what’s cruel and mean, from fiction” (East Anglia Lecture, 4). In a sense the ‘school of morals’ is the experience of life when you live or suffer it.
As we have talked about in class, a child loses innocence when he/she starts to read. As innocence starts to turn into experience the path of life becomes more concrete, by our own will or by societies is something I will leave you to decide. Yet, it happens none the less, and this is the deciding moment when what we read and the structure set up around what is being read is on the tip of a ball point pen. At this point in life-a foggy, unclear point in life- is where, at least in present day society, most paths are set for us by grown-ups-parents, professors, ‘mature’ people. Through my own experience’s growing up, art wasn’t even near the center of my life, which seemed to be the case for most around me. By this I merely am stating that what we define as the arts (from above) was usually looked at in a negative light, full of ridicule for the people trying to follow this path, or it was just shoved aside to make room for more ‘important’ things like geography, algebra, gym class. Through this construct I feel the common path leads away from the arts into a more concrete, closed world where fact is the forerunner into experience, but why? Pullman states in an article, Theatre-the true key stage that the arts are a viable and necessary companion in life, a companion that helps in the journey to create a ‘grown-up’ that isn’t an automated working machine without imagination or emotion; he feels that if you do limit these things from a child “they perish on the inside, and it doesn’t show” (Theatre, 1). This closing of the mind is what leads us away from the extraordinary.
As I talked about above, the key principle here is ‘interruption.’ I would say that this fall from the extraordinary is a type of interruption of John Keats’ idea of Negative Compatibility. In one of Keats’ letters to George and Thomas Keats, December 22, 1817, he states that “…Negative Capability, that is when man is capable of being in uncertainties, Mysteries, doubts, without any irritable reaching after fact & reason.” Isn’t this the exact type of interruption that I touched on earlier, a path that leads away from uncertainties, a path that is full of fact and reason. By this time it might feel that I am an advocate against fact and reason, but this just isn’t the case, I am merely stating that if one’s life is solely concentrated on fact and reason, the child is gone forever and life would consist of nothing as mentally stimulating as the imagination.
I am regressing; this idea, Negative Capability, is seen when reading anything with fantastical elements in it, Pullman’s His Dark Materials, Carroll’s Alice in Wonderland, or even Keats Ode to a Nightingale. The most impressive part of this suspension is when writers like Keats and Carroll emulate this idea in their writing. In Alice in Wonderland the reader sees Alice stuck in a room with a door so small she can’t get through. She is stumped on how to get out of this room, until a key appears on a small table in the room, yet she is still too big. Shortly after this realization she finds a small unmarked bottle with a paper label tied to the neck that says “drink me.” After she drinks the elixir she eventually reaches the desired height to go through the door (Carrol 15-17). In Keats Ode to a Nightingale the narrator also drinks a type of potion: “My sense as though of hemlock I had drunk, or emptied some dull opiate to the drain” (Keats, 2-3). In both examples the person drinks something to reach or explain the desired affect. This in a sense is the extraordinary, it has been there all along, in front of our eyes. Now don’t go drinking everything in site to try to reach the extraordinary; it is a type of portmantou where the drink is the imagination, the innocence which is lost in so many people. Earlier in this semester I created a displacement of the Bozeman Police Reports where by using reality as a basis I created a type of portal for the listeners imagination into the world of pretend, a place to suspend the beliefs and instead fill it with the uncertainties and mysteries which make up a good story. Yet, even though it was made up, no one doubted or questioned, but just listened with attention, with imagination, with their negative capability.
If we are all on the path described earlier, the concrete, closed path or if the journey on the path is over and the arts have been forgotten or closed off deep inside, the following is the savior of the extraordinary. Everything in the arts is embedded with the extraordinary, it is just a point of looking at the stories themselves, believing in them for what they are, using our willing suspension of disbelief-our imagination-to give oneself back to the extraordinary. The willing suspension of disbelief is a term invented by William Taylor Coleridge which is basically momentarily, possibly for only a few seconds, minutes, or longer if not interrupted, stopping the thought process and giving oneself to the innocence of the imagination; the pretend (Holland 1).
When you get the chance drink the hemlock or the unmarked bottle with only the words “drink me” on them, let your daemon find out who it is, say open sesame-once upon a time-in a land far, far away, don’t stop yourself at the limits of your mind, but let it go, let it find the imagination, regain this thing that is your own, move forward into the extraordinary and feel the wonderous power of life. As with life you need to delight and only do things that are worth doing for yourself or your imagination. The extraordinary isn’t far from any of us, it is just the will or ‘willing’ that can bring you to it.
Child and Young Adult Lit.
Lost in the Extraordinary
“The almost sensual bliss, the intoxicating blend of excitement and surrender we feel when someone says ‘Once upon a time…’ Any education that neglects this dimension of experience will be dry and tasteless with no nourishment in it. People-children especially-need this experience of delight.” Phillip Pullman
Giving oneself over to the extraordinary is complicated webbing that involves above all things art. By art I’m not framing a thought that invokes the Mona Lisa or Starry Night yet these might come to mind, but a plethora of art that is made up of the Mona Lisa but not limited to this one small piece in the larger web which includes subjects as literature, theatre, sculpture, music, opera, and so on. The arts are a way for an adolescent to start at an early stage to not forget what he/she is about on the inside.
The extraordinary isn’t something you need to search for, except for in yourself, it is in everyone and only needs to be awoken inside; this awakening goes hand in hand with the arts, negative compatibility, and a willing suspension of disbelief. For the purpose of this paper I am going to start off with the child and his connection to the extraordinary, move to the possible fall or unimaginative adulthood, and finish with a possible portal ‘back’ into the extraordinary.
A child, though open to many interpretations of what actually makes up a child, for the purpose of this paper, we will define a child as innocence. The child is innocent because the child isn’t searching for the ‘right’ meaning or even for a meaning at all, it is just there, taking what comes and forgetting what goes. The child is void of reason, truth, and an ‘un’-imagination. This is what is so beautiful about a child, it has no set path, and is free to find out through mistakes what life is asking of it. In Philip Pullman’s His Dark Materials Lyra’s journey, her destiny, can only come true if she is allowed to make mistakes: “…she must fulfill this destiny in ignorance of what she is doing, because only in her ignorance can we be saved…what it means is that she must be free to make mistakes” (Pullman 130). This is not only a statement that explains the concept of a child and how we must let them understand the world through their own eyes, but it also contains one of the key problems with society today, something I will refer to as interruption, but I will come back to that later. The idea of allowing children to make mistakes, I feel is rooted in Pullman’s lecture on “the school of morals,” which is planted in the belief that “we can learn what’s good and what’s bad, what’s generous and unselfish, what’s cruel and mean, from fiction” (East Anglia Lecture, 4). In a sense the ‘school of morals’ is the experience of life when you live or suffer it.
As we have talked about in class, a child loses innocence when he/she starts to read. As innocence starts to turn into experience the path of life becomes more concrete, by our own will or by societies is something I will leave you to decide. Yet, it happens none the less, and this is the deciding moment when what we read and the structure set up around what is being read is on the tip of a ball point pen. At this point in life-a foggy, unclear point in life- is where, at least in present day society, most paths are set for us by grown-ups-parents, professors, ‘mature’ people. Through my own experience’s growing up, art wasn’t even near the center of my life, which seemed to be the case for most around me. By this I merely am stating that what we define as the arts (from above) was usually looked at in a negative light, full of ridicule for the people trying to follow this path, or it was just shoved aside to make room for more ‘important’ things like geography, algebra, gym class. Through this construct I feel the common path leads away from the arts into a more concrete, closed world where fact is the forerunner into experience, but why? Pullman states in an article, Theatre-the true key stage that the arts are a viable and necessary companion in life, a companion that helps in the journey to create a ‘grown-up’ that isn’t an automated working machine without imagination or emotion; he feels that if you do limit these things from a child “they perish on the inside, and it doesn’t show” (Theatre, 1). This closing of the mind is what leads us away from the extraordinary.
As I talked about above, the key principle here is ‘interruption.’ I would say that this fall from the extraordinary is a type of interruption of John Keats’ idea of Negative Compatibility. In one of Keats’ letters to George and Thomas Keats, December 22, 1817, he states that “…Negative Capability, that is when man is capable of being in uncertainties, Mysteries, doubts, without any irritable reaching after fact & reason.” Isn’t this the exact type of interruption that I touched on earlier, a path that leads away from uncertainties, a path that is full of fact and reason. By this time it might feel that I am an advocate against fact and reason, but this just isn’t the case, I am merely stating that if one’s life is solely concentrated on fact and reason, the child is gone forever and life would consist of nothing as mentally stimulating as the imagination.
I am regressing; this idea, Negative Capability, is seen when reading anything with fantastical elements in it, Pullman’s His Dark Materials, Carroll’s Alice in Wonderland, or even Keats Ode to a Nightingale. The most impressive part of this suspension is when writers like Keats and Carroll emulate this idea in their writing. In Alice in Wonderland the reader sees Alice stuck in a room with a door so small she can’t get through. She is stumped on how to get out of this room, until a key appears on a small table in the room, yet she is still too big. Shortly after this realization she finds a small unmarked bottle with a paper label tied to the neck that says “drink me.” After she drinks the elixir she eventually reaches the desired height to go through the door (Carrol 15-17). In Keats Ode to a Nightingale the narrator also drinks a type of potion: “My sense as though of hemlock I had drunk, or emptied some dull opiate to the drain” (Keats, 2-3). In both examples the person drinks something to reach or explain the desired affect. This in a sense is the extraordinary, it has been there all along, in front of our eyes. Now don’t go drinking everything in site to try to reach the extraordinary; it is a type of portmantou where the drink is the imagination, the innocence which is lost in so many people. Earlier in this semester I created a displacement of the Bozeman Police Reports where by using reality as a basis I created a type of portal for the listeners imagination into the world of pretend, a place to suspend the beliefs and instead fill it with the uncertainties and mysteries which make up a good story. Yet, even though it was made up, no one doubted or questioned, but just listened with attention, with imagination, with their negative capability.
If we are all on the path described earlier, the concrete, closed path or if the journey on the path is over and the arts have been forgotten or closed off deep inside, the following is the savior of the extraordinary. Everything in the arts is embedded with the extraordinary, it is just a point of looking at the stories themselves, believing in them for what they are, using our willing suspension of disbelief-our imagination-to give oneself back to the extraordinary. The willing suspension of disbelief is a term invented by William Taylor Coleridge which is basically momentarily, possibly for only a few seconds, minutes, or longer if not interrupted, stopping the thought process and giving oneself to the innocence of the imagination; the pretend (Holland 1).
When you get the chance drink the hemlock or the unmarked bottle with only the words “drink me” on them, let your daemon find out who it is, say open sesame-once upon a time-in a land far, far away, don’t stop yourself at the limits of your mind, but let it go, let it find the imagination, regain this thing that is your own, move forward into the extraordinary and feel the wonderous power of life. As with life you need to delight and only do things that are worth doing for yourself or your imagination. The extraordinary isn’t far from any of us, it is just the will or ‘willing’ that can bring you to it.
Monday, December 1, 2008
the "North's" connections
Thirteen Ways of Looking at a Blackbird
I
Among twenty snowy mountains,
The only moving thing
Was the eye of the black bird.
II
I was of three minds,
Like a tree
In which there are three blackbirds.
III
The blackbird whirled in the autumn winds.
It was a small part of the pantomime.
IV
A man and a woman
Are one.
A man and a woman and a blackbird
Are one.
V
I do not know which to prefer,
The beauty of inflections
Or the beauty of innuendoes,
The blackbird whistling
Or just after.
VI
Icicles filled the long window
With barbaric glass.
The shadow of the blackbird
Crossed it, to and fro.
The mood
Traced in the shadow
An indecipherable cause.
VII
O thin men of Haddam,
Why do you imagine golden birds?
Do you not see how the blackbird
Walks around the feet
Of the women about you?
VIII
I know noble accents
And lucid, inescapable rhythms;
But I know, too,
That the blackbird is involved
In what I know.
IX
When the blackbird flew out of sight,
It marked the edge
Of one of many circles.
X
At the sight of blackbirds
Flying in a green light,
Even the bawds of euphony
Would cry out sharply.
XI
He rode over Connecticut
In a glass coach.
Once, a fear pierced him,
In that he mistook
The shadow of his equipage
For blackbirds.
XII
The river is moving.
The blackbird must be flying.
XIII
It was evening all afternoon.
It was snowing
And it was going to snow.
The blackbird sat
In the cedar-limbs. Wallace Stevens
-In class the other day we were talking about 'North' or at least the idea of north, and it was brought up that Wallace Stevens writes about the Aurora's, a very distinct aspect of the north in Pullman's His Dark Materials.
I think it is interesting to think of the north as an idea, an imaginary place full of mystery and danger. It seems as if Pullman, almost through realism, relates a notion of a story, whoever fantastical it might be, to the common reader. I believe in his idea of the north because he takes things already present in the matter and turns certain mysteries or wonderings we might have about a place and turns them into reality.
I can see this realism in Wallace Stevens poems yet in a slightly different way. He to uses the raven (black bird)as a character in his writing, just as Pullman does. Also he seems to incorporate or at least have been captivated by the north to include it in some aspects of his poetry.
In stanza X Stevens wrote, "At the sight of blackbirds/
Flying in a green light/ Even the bawds of euphony/ Would cry out sharply." Here it seems to me that Stevens is referring to the blackbirds flying with the Aurora for their background. The idea of the north seems to capture more than just Pullman and Stevens since so many people have been attracted to Pullman's writings. Also it is interesting to take an idea and see it pop up in all sorts of interesting places.
I
Among twenty snowy mountains,
The only moving thing
Was the eye of the black bird.
II
I was of three minds,
Like a tree
In which there are three blackbirds.
III
The blackbird whirled in the autumn winds.
It was a small part of the pantomime.
IV
A man and a woman
Are one.
A man and a woman and a blackbird
Are one.
V
I do not know which to prefer,
The beauty of inflections
Or the beauty of innuendoes,
The blackbird whistling
Or just after.
VI
Icicles filled the long window
With barbaric glass.
The shadow of the blackbird
Crossed it, to and fro.
The mood
Traced in the shadow
An indecipherable cause.
VII
O thin men of Haddam,
Why do you imagine golden birds?
Do you not see how the blackbird
Walks around the feet
Of the women about you?
VIII
I know noble accents
And lucid, inescapable rhythms;
But I know, too,
That the blackbird is involved
In what I know.
IX
When the blackbird flew out of sight,
It marked the edge
Of one of many circles.
X
At the sight of blackbirds
Flying in a green light,
Even the bawds of euphony
Would cry out sharply.
XI
He rode over Connecticut
In a glass coach.
Once, a fear pierced him,
In that he mistook
The shadow of his equipage
For blackbirds.
XII
The river is moving.
The blackbird must be flying.
XIII
It was evening all afternoon.
It was snowing
And it was going to snow.
The blackbird sat
In the cedar-limbs. Wallace Stevens
-In class the other day we were talking about 'North' or at least the idea of north, and it was brought up that Wallace Stevens writes about the Aurora's, a very distinct aspect of the north in Pullman's His Dark Materials.
I think it is interesting to think of the north as an idea, an imaginary place full of mystery and danger. It seems as if Pullman, almost through realism, relates a notion of a story, whoever fantastical it might be, to the common reader. I believe in his idea of the north because he takes things already present in the matter and turns certain mysteries or wonderings we might have about a place and turns them into reality.
I can see this realism in Wallace Stevens poems yet in a slightly different way. He to uses the raven (black bird)as a character in his writing, just as Pullman does. Also he seems to incorporate or at least have been captivated by the north to include it in some aspects of his poetry.
In stanza X Stevens wrote, "At the sight of blackbirds/Flying in a green light/ Even the bawds of euphony/ Would cry out sharply." Here it seems to me that Stevens is referring to the blackbirds flying with the Aurora for their background. The idea of the north seems to capture more than just Pullman and Stevens since so many people have been attracted to Pullman's writings. Also it is interesting to take an idea and see it pop up in all sorts of interesting places.
Thursday, November 20, 2008
Dreams...
There is one dream, or I guess a nightmare is what you would call it, that I had when I was young and for some reason I have always remembered the dream. I can't really recollect any other dreams or at least to the clarity that I still can recollect this one. Before the dream begins a little background information on my day before this night, at least to the extent that I can remember. I had watched the movie the Burbs with Tom Hanks as the lead actor.
In the movie Tom Hanks (spoiler report!) is living next to a bunch of murderers that have killed a bunch of people and are cremating them in their basement and burying them under the foundation.
In my dream I am being carried by a bunch of small men. The men were really small, and resembled a cross between the Ewoks in the movie Star Wars with the sand people in the movie Star Wars. So these small men were carrying me, about 6-8 of them, and they are carrying me to this huge grill, probably big enough to roast 3 children, and the grill is situated in the back yard of the murderers house in The Burbs. And then right when they were lowering me on I woke up.
I am not sure why I always remember this dream, possibly because when I woke up I was so freaked out that it was real it, in a way, burned itself into my mind. It is still kind of scary for me to this day.
I think this might be why we have dreams, in my notes from Nov. 7th I wrote down that "terror into art, only way to deal w/ terror." When looking at my dream it seems that this is what happened. My mind was so terrified about these killers, possibly because it was happening in a relatively safe neighborhood like where I was living that it turned it into a dream, a 'dealable' option for me so I could cope with it in a way. If dreams and art are connected it seems that all of the themes through the class could be connected, art-dream, coincidence obviously ties in with those two, so three out of five isn't bad.
Here's a link to a clip from The Burbs, it seems like a much funnier movie now...
www.youtube.com/watch?v=ik4fILNVdRE
In the movie Tom Hanks (spoiler report!) is living next to a bunch of murderers that have killed a bunch of people and are cremating them in their basement and burying them under the foundation.
In my dream I am being carried by a bunch of small men. The men were really small, and resembled a cross between the Ewoks in the movie Star Wars with the sand people in the movie Star Wars. So these small men were carrying me, about 6-8 of them, and they are carrying me to this huge grill, probably big enough to roast 3 children, and the grill is situated in the back yard of the murderers house in The Burbs. And then right when they were lowering me on I woke up.
I am not sure why I always remember this dream, possibly because when I woke up I was so freaked out that it was real it, in a way, burned itself into my mind. It is still kind of scary for me to this day.
I think this might be why we have dreams, in my notes from Nov. 7th I wrote down that "terror into art, only way to deal w/ terror." When looking at my dream it seems that this is what happened. My mind was so terrified about these killers, possibly because it was happening in a relatively safe neighborhood like where I was living that it turned it into a dream, a 'dealable' option for me so I could cope with it in a way. If dreams and art are connected it seems that all of the themes through the class could be connected, art-dream, coincidence obviously ties in with those two, so three out of five isn't bad.
Here's a link to a clip from The Burbs, it seems like a much funnier movie now...
www.youtube.com/watch?v=ik4fILNVdRE
Wednesday, November 19, 2008
More than just true...
Fairy tales are more than true: not because they tell us that dragons exist, but because they tell us that dragons can be beaten.
* G.K. Chesterton
I love this quote. It says so much and still says it in an exciting way. The message it gives is a central message in this class, that through experience, through ideas where dragonslayers take down these great beasts is where the truth lies not in just the fact that they exist; a situation has to be present where a story doesn't just tell us its true it shows it. This seems almost a way of getting your readers to believe, to not just tell but to show. How much am I suppose to believe that Bluebeard is such a bad man? You show me. This vision of the imagination that fairy tales present is the basis of fairy tales, making us imagine and then believing the imagined.
Tuesday, November 18, 2008
Notes for November 17th
His Dark Materials
--Can't get to far from Daemon
--Naggy; needy
--a part of its human
--Willing suspension of disbelief to enter book... needed to be able to suspend reality at a wim and believe what your mind is reading if only for a few seconds.
--Pullman talking about teaching people to write; no rules, willing suspension of certainty (changes Coleridge's willing suspension of disbelief)
--Lyre- wind plays instrument...
Lyre= Lyra, the central character in His Dark Materials. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FHq1H5cmL5w
Hopefully this link works... it is a link to a man playing the Lyre, he is claiming that the song is from 1300 B.C. in some of his playing.
--Get rid of the notion that the text is going to teach us anything.
-- 6 degrees of seperation
--"Its a pour memory that only goes one way."
-Aleithiometer
+leith- Lethe- rive in Hades where you drink the water and you forget.
-Aleithiometer= takes away the forgetfulness; 'un'-forgetting
--Glen Gould- "32 short pieces of Glen Gould"
-haunted by the idea of 'the north.'
--gold bug variations...
--Central metaphor at the basis of the trilogy is the Aurora Borealis
-I have seen the Aurora's. Growing up in North Dakota they were usually visual in the winter at some times throughout the winter. The following is a picture that I found that most closely resembled my memory of the Aurora's, this picture is close except they were slightly more red.
--Wallace Stevens Poems- about idea of 'North.'
--
Domination Of Black
At night, by the fire,
The colors of the bushes
And of the fallen leaves,
Repeating themselves,
Turned in the room,
Like the leaves themselves
Turning in the wind.
Yes: but the color of the heavy hemlocks
Came striding.
And I remembered the cry of the peacocks.
The colors of their tails
Were like the leaves themselves
Turning in the wind,
In the twilight wind.
They swept over the room,
Just as they flew from the boughs of the hemlocks
Down to the ground.
I heard them cry -- the peacocks.
Was it a cry against the twilight
Or against the leaves themselves
Turning in the wind,
Turning as the flames
Turned in the fire,
Turning as the tails of the peacocks
Turned in the loud fire,
Loud as the hemlocks
Full of the cry of the peacocks?
Or was it a cry against the hemlocks?
Out of the window,
I saw how the planets gathered
Like the leaves themselves
Turning in the wind.
I saw how the night came,
Came striding like the color of the heavy hemlocks
I felt afraid.
And I remembered the cry of the peacocks. -Wallace Stevens
--Nobazembla- try to find it in text and reality...
-I found some pretty interesting facts on Nova Zembla
--Nova Zembla
+Novaya Zemlya is the proper name; it is only known as Nova Zembla in Dutch. It is an archipelago in the Arctic Ocean in the north of Russia and the extreme northeast of Europe. The indigenous population consists of about 100 Nenetses who subsist mainly on fishing, trapping, polar bear hunting, and seal hunting.
--the Aleithiometer is a guide to symbols and the importance and many meanings or level of meanings in them... such as a portmanteau.
--Can't get to far from Daemon
--Naggy; needy
--a part of its human
--Willing suspension of disbelief to enter book... needed to be able to suspend reality at a wim and believe what your mind is reading if only for a few seconds.
--Pullman talking about teaching people to write; no rules, willing suspension of certainty (changes Coleridge's willing suspension of disbelief)
--Lyre- wind plays instrument...
Lyre= Lyra, the central character in His Dark Materials. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FHq1H5cmL5wHopefully this link works... it is a link to a man playing the Lyre, he is claiming that the song is from 1300 B.C. in some of his playing.
--Get rid of the notion that the text is going to teach us anything.
-- 6 degrees of seperation
--"Its a pour memory that only goes one way."
-Aleithiometer
+leith- Lethe- rive in Hades where you drink the water and you forget.
-Aleithiometer= takes away the forgetfulness; 'un'-forgetting
--Glen Gould- "32 short pieces of Glen Gould"
-haunted by the idea of 'the north.'
--gold bug variations...
--Central metaphor at the basis of the trilogy is the Aurora Borealis
-I have seen the Aurora's. Growing up in North Dakota they were usually visual in the winter at some times throughout the winter. The following is a picture that I found that most closely resembled my memory of the Aurora's, this picture is close except they were slightly more red.
--Wallace Stevens Poems- about idea of 'North.'
--
Domination Of Black
At night, by the fire,
The colors of the bushes
And of the fallen leaves,
Repeating themselves,
Turned in the room,
Like the leaves themselves
Turning in the wind.
Yes: but the color of the heavy hemlocks
Came striding.
And I remembered the cry of the peacocks.
The colors of their tails
Were like the leaves themselves
Turning in the wind,
In the twilight wind.
They swept over the room,
Just as they flew from the boughs of the hemlocks
Down to the ground.
I heard them cry -- the peacocks.
Was it a cry against the twilight
Or against the leaves themselves
Turning in the wind,
Turning as the flames
Turned in the fire,
Turning as the tails of the peacocks
Turned in the loud fire,
Loud as the hemlocks
Full of the cry of the peacocks?
Or was it a cry against the hemlocks?
Out of the window,
I saw how the planets gathered
Like the leaves themselves
Turning in the wind.
I saw how the night came,
Came striding like the color of the heavy hemlocks
I felt afraid.
And I remembered the cry of the peacocks. -Wallace Stevens
--Nobazembla- try to find it in text and reality...
-I found some pretty interesting facts on Nova Zembla
--Nova Zembla
+Novaya Zemlya is the proper name; it is only known as Nova Zembla in Dutch. It is an archipelago in the Arctic Ocean in the north of Russia and the extreme northeast of Europe. The indigenous population consists of about 100 Nenetses who subsist mainly on fishing, trapping, polar bear hunting, and seal hunting.
--the Aleithiometer is a guide to symbols and the importance and many meanings or level of meanings in them... such as a portmanteau.
Monday, November 17, 2008
Scharfanugal
I think one of the most enjoyable and fascinating things to me about reading Pullman's trilogy (or any young adult literature for that matter) is the use of made up or 'new' words. Here are a few: aerodock, anbaric (a type of electricity or power), and since I started writing this blog I found an interesting page on the terminology of His Dark Materials, here it is; http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/His_Dark_Materials_terminology. I like how Pullman says things, and not just what he is saying. He creates a world that is different; one that is strange to the everyday person, yet because it is different it stimulates the brain to a greater extent than an everyday read. We don't need lists of rights and wrongs, tables of do's and don'ts: we need books, time, and silence. 'Thou shalt not' is soon forgotten, but 'Once upon a time' lasts forever.
* Philip Pullman
* Philip Pullman
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