Monday, April 25, 2011
Night Life
I really did like Rat Kiley. I sort of don't like revisiting this story because I am terribly paranoid in the dark. Something about that black canvas backdrop of the night pushes my imagination to its most sinister depths. Spending weeks upon weeks under the cloak of dark silence, attempting to block out the very real boogeymen with guns and grenades would be maddening. His experiences also remind me of the moment where the found Kiowa's body. To see so much carnage in friends would be stressful enough without the constant darkness. I am not sure how much I can write about this chapter because its mostly based on the insanity of the dark and the unknown, and more importantly, its freaking me out.
The Ghost Soldiers
Perhaps its just me, but O'Brien's near-death, terrifying experience turned him into Mary Anne Bell from the Song Tra Bong for just a little bit. Especially when he was scaring Jorgenson and "seemed to rise out of [his] own body" (208). He became Vietnam just like Mary did, although for vastly different reasons. His was one of revenge. In a strange way the revenge might have almost served to restore some sense of justice. In the war, nothing was ever just,and their was rarely any retribution. But O'Brien took his injury into his own hands to find justice.
Jorgenson didn't mean to almost let O'Brien die. It was his first day and he had the completely understandable experience of being frozen with fear and confusion. That didn't take away his responsibility, though. From the stories my dad has told me, I think the war just didn't allow for compassion. When every little fault or moment of weakness could kill someone, it is impossible to give anyone much room for error. Even so, the thing that set O'Brien apart from Azar was that he still had a little bit of room for compassion.
The camaraderie between Jorgenson and O'Brien at the end shows that the retribution in some strange way was acceptable. The may not have been friends, but they were almost closer than that. They shared some sort of secret common experience and acceptance.
Jorgenson didn't mean to almost let O'Brien die. It was his first day and he had the completely understandable experience of being frozen with fear and confusion. That didn't take away his responsibility, though. From the stories my dad has told me, I think the war just didn't allow for compassion. When every little fault or moment of weakness could kill someone, it is impossible to give anyone much room for error. Even so, the thing that set O'Brien apart from Azar was that he still had a little bit of room for compassion.
The camaraderie between Jorgenson and O'Brien at the end shows that the retribution in some strange way was acceptable. The may not have been friends, but they were almost closer than that. They shared some sort of secret common experience and acceptance.
Sunday, April 24, 2011
Field Trip
For me, Field Trip was sad for two reasons: one, because O'Brien was revisiting his not so pleasant past and Kiowa's death site, and two, because her daughter could never understand what he went through. Part of the reason that revisiting the field was sad was because it wasn't sad. it wasn't the big, scary, monster of a war that he had feared in his memories for so many years. That field had disappeared. Instead what he found was a peaceful, dry field. At least he found some small bit of closure by putting Kiowa's moccasins in the mud.
What was more unsettling than O'Brien's revisitation of his past was his daughter Kathleen's innocent questions. She is the next generation, who doesn't know the pain and sacrifices that war entails, and therefore her generation is liable to make the same mistakes. Quite frankly, its more than a little bit depressing.
Both of these parts of the story show a world that had moved on from the war. This world is the same world that made Bowker commit suicide. The veterans are the only ones left behind as relics of the past.
What was more unsettling than O'Brien's revisitation of his past was his daughter Kathleen's innocent questions. She is the next generation, who doesn't know the pain and sacrifices that war entails, and therefore her generation is liable to make the same mistakes. Quite frankly, its more than a little bit depressing.
Both of these parts of the story show a world that had moved on from the war. This world is the same world that made Bowker commit suicide. The veterans are the only ones left behind as relics of the past.
In The Field
In The Field is another chapter back in Vietnam. In the beginning, Lieutenant Jimmy Cross is very interesting. Actually, he is always rather interesting. From the beginning chapter to now he has been one of the more complex characters. Perhaps this is because he has to go through it alone. His fears, his crush on Martha, his guilt at the deaths of Lavender and Kiowa are all compounded by his isolation as head of the group. Even though all of them are isolated from their families and homes, at least the others have each other. As everyone else is combing the sh*t field for Kiowa's remains, Cross is left with the responsibility of attempting to come up with something to write to Kiowa's father. Although he almost the same age as the others and not much more experienced, he is forced into the role of a stoic adult. He cannot ever show his emotions good or bad, because his soldiers need him to be brave. He even has to look over all the young boys like the soldier standing listlessly alone in the field.
The boy is sort of a lost puppy filled with remorse. To cope with his guilt at Kiowa's death, he searches desperately in the muck for the picture of his ex-girlfriend that caused his guilt in the first place. The picture is to him what the pantyhose were to Dobbins.
The graphic description of Kiowa’s corpse is also disturbing. I can’t imagine looking at someone I know with their shoulder missing, covered in blood, mud, and bruises. It is like some horrific Halloween story. I simply cannot imagine how they coped with the unrelenting, enormous guilt, and grief, and loss, and fear, and exhaustion day after day.
The boy is sort of a lost puppy filled with remorse. To cope with his guilt at Kiowa's death, he searches desperately in the muck for the picture of his ex-girlfriend that caused his guilt in the first place. The picture is to him what the pantyhose were to Dobbins.
The graphic description of Kiowa’s corpse is also disturbing. I can’t imagine looking at someone I know with their shoulder missing, covered in blood, mud, and bruises. It is like some horrific Halloween story. I simply cannot imagine how they coped with the unrelenting, enormous guilt, and grief, and loss, and fear, and exhaustion day after day.
Notes
I'm not sure if I'm supposed to ask questions in this format, but is this chapter real or a story? I'm asking because the chapter seems to be an explanation from the writer's perspective of some of the other chapters. That is perhaps what makes this chapter seem so sincere.
Bowker's suicide broke me up. Unfortunately this leads to more guilt for O'Brien. It seems as though no one involved can escape guilt from the blight upon humanity that is war. I wonder if the letter was real, because it was just so heartfelt. The way O'Brien had described Bowker enabled me able to picture him writing that letter so full of honesty and emotion. It it a true war story, because it is left unresolved. We can never know how Bowker would have reacted to O'Brien's unedited chapter.
As I am pondering more over this chapter, I think the reason I like it is because it is almost like Rat Kiley's letter to Curt Lemon's sister. O'Brien is paying his respects to a friend by telling his story. He is telling a truth that he felt needed to be told, a truth that Bowker couldn't tell. Perhaps the stories themselves are their own resolution. Just telling them gives the teller and the characters the catharsis they need.
Bowker's suicide broke me up. Unfortunately this leads to more guilt for O'Brien. It seems as though no one involved can escape guilt from the blight upon humanity that is war. I wonder if the letter was real, because it was just so heartfelt. The way O'Brien had described Bowker enabled me able to picture him writing that letter so full of honesty and emotion. It it a true war story, because it is left unresolved. We can never know how Bowker would have reacted to O'Brien's unedited chapter.
As I am pondering more over this chapter, I think the reason I like it is because it is almost like Rat Kiley's letter to Curt Lemon's sister. O'Brien is paying his respects to a friend by telling his story. He is telling a truth that he felt needed to be told, a truth that Bowker couldn't tell. Perhaps the stories themselves are their own resolution. Just telling them gives the teller and the characters the catharsis they need.
Speaking of Courage
Oh, poor Bowker! As hard as it is to live through something tramatic, it is a thousand times harder to live after it. To be inundated with both the past you left behind, and the future you could have had is simple awful. I love how he was able to tell time instinctually because it is so realistic for veterans. I know because to this day, 40 years after the war, my Dad can still wake up at an exact time to the minute without an alarm clock. The way he kick himself over his supposed mistakes is so understandable and yet so sad. He has to deal with the reality of how he feels about himself now, whereas he seems almost jealous of his dead friend Max Arnold, who is able to remain an eternal idealist. The chase of his old flame from high school who has since moved on without him shows how he is unable to cope with a world that has moved on. While his neighborhood may look the same as ever, time has predictably changed the people he had perhaps idealized to get through the war. I think his true courage is just coming back and trying to cope.
Stockings to Style
It is a tad bit difficult to write on these chapters because they are so short and varied, but here it goes. The stockings chapter is so sympathetic. The stockings are his only constant physical reminder of home that gave him the strength to keep going. He may have been "like America itself", strong and stoic, but even he needed a little bit of hope to keep going.
Church was a chapter that struck me in a completely different way: actually in two opposing ways. The idea of soldiers in a monastery, no matter how small and poor, deeply offends a part of me. I'm not quite sure why. I am agnostic, so usually religious sentiments are lost on me. Something about war, which is the worst aspects of mankind, seeping into a place of quiet purity and contemplation is deeply sacrilegious to me. I whole-heartedly agree with Kiowa. You shouldn't mess with sacred spaces. On a completely different note, the chapter oddly reminds me of my father. He was a soldier in Vietnam when he was my age, but he also later traveled to India and stayed in Hindu Himalayan monasteries. I have always known him as a very spiritual person,so the combination is eerie.
The Man I Killed was a very strange chapter. I am a little bit confused about the point of view because it appears as though Tim O'Brien is the speaker the most of the time, but another unknown narrator is focused on the perspective of the man, which O'Brien couldn't have possibly known. The story itself is so sad and so graphic. I feel like the man is almost like Piggy from Lord of the Flies. He is so empathetic because he is apparently smart and sensitive but these qualities end up getting him killed by a cruel, unfair world. It is nice that his side was shown too, making him just as human and as real as Tim. Ambush goes more in depth to Tim's guilt. It must be horrible to know you are responsible for someone else's death. (Oh and just by the way, the way that Tim lies his daughter about his past to comfort her is the same way that the hypothetical girlfriend of a soldier in our class discussion would lie about infidelity to comfort the soldier. Sometimes even falsehoods give people the hope and security that they need. Just sayin'.)
I don't quite understand the Style chapter, but there is something beautiful about that little girl. Even though it is not the tradition reaction to the death of her family, her dance shows a strange sort of grace. Dobbins reaction to Azar was also quite beautiful, and almost made the immense amount of death even more tragic.
Church was a chapter that struck me in a completely different way: actually in two opposing ways. The idea of soldiers in a monastery, no matter how small and poor, deeply offends a part of me. I'm not quite sure why. I am agnostic, so usually religious sentiments are lost on me. Something about war, which is the worst aspects of mankind, seeping into a place of quiet purity and contemplation is deeply sacrilegious to me. I whole-heartedly agree with Kiowa. You shouldn't mess with sacred spaces. On a completely different note, the chapter oddly reminds me of my father. He was a soldier in Vietnam when he was my age, but he also later traveled to India and stayed in Hindu Himalayan monasteries. I have always known him as a very spiritual person,so the combination is eerie.
The Man I Killed was a very strange chapter. I am a little bit confused about the point of view because it appears as though Tim O'Brien is the speaker the most of the time, but another unknown narrator is focused on the perspective of the man, which O'Brien couldn't have possibly known. The story itself is so sad and so graphic. I feel like the man is almost like Piggy from Lord of the Flies. He is so empathetic because he is apparently smart and sensitive but these qualities end up getting him killed by a cruel, unfair world. It is nice that his side was shown too, making him just as human and as real as Tim. Ambush goes more in depth to Tim's guilt. It must be horrible to know you are responsible for someone else's death. (Oh and just by the way, the way that Tim lies his daughter about his past to comfort her is the same way that the hypothetical girlfriend of a soldier in our class discussion would lie about infidelity to comfort the soldier. Sometimes even falsehoods give people the hope and security that they need. Just sayin'.)
I don't quite understand the Style chapter, but there is something beautiful about that little girl. Even though it is not the tradition reaction to the death of her family, her dance shows a strange sort of grace. Dobbins reaction to Azar was also quite beautiful, and almost made the immense amount of death even more tragic.
Sweetheart of the Song Tra Bong
I have to admit, this is my favorite story. She is just so fascinatingly scary! First of all, the outlandishness of a soldier bringing his girlfriend into the war fits perfectly into O'Brien's earlier definition of a true war story, as does the ambiguous ending. The story itself is so tragic.
In the beginning she is the epitome of the girl-next-door, idealized, American, high school sweetheart. The ridiculousness of her outfit truly contrasts her to Vietnam. There she is with cute little white plants in the middle of a muddy, unsanitary base, and a pretty, pink, feminine sweater. Her original empathy and curiosity toward the native Vietnamese and the war in general is kind and well intentioned, and her life plans fit perfectly inline with the typical white picket fence American Dream. It doesn't appear to be a facade. She seems to honestly be a good, well-adjusted teenage girl.
Her downhill spiral into a woman who is too crazed and bloodthirsty for the Green Berets is what strikes a core with me. She is a symbol of every girl. She could be my next door neighbor or even myself, and the war brings out a side of her that is evil and twisted, showing that anyone could become this. It shows that there can be malevolent place in even the nicest people.
The destruction of innocence is also quite sad. While she may have always have this insane part inside of her, she could have lived her entire life back home without even unlocking it. I believe everyone probably has some part of themselves they would not want to know, but for her, this inner evil is revealed through war. It consumes her completely, and all of the good possibilities for her life go up in smoke. The old her becomes a casualty to the living, breathing monster of war.
In the beginning she is the epitome of the girl-next-door, idealized, American, high school sweetheart. The ridiculousness of her outfit truly contrasts her to Vietnam. There she is with cute little white plants in the middle of a muddy, unsanitary base, and a pretty, pink, feminine sweater. Her original empathy and curiosity toward the native Vietnamese and the war in general is kind and well intentioned, and her life plans fit perfectly inline with the typical white picket fence American Dream. It doesn't appear to be a facade. She seems to honestly be a good, well-adjusted teenage girl.
Her downhill spiral into a woman who is too crazed and bloodthirsty for the Green Berets is what strikes a core with me. She is a symbol of every girl. She could be my next door neighbor or even myself, and the war brings out a side of her that is evil and twisted, showing that anyone could become this. It shows that there can be malevolent place in even the nicest people.
The destruction of innocence is also quite sad. While she may have always have this insane part inside of her, she could have lived her entire life back home without even unlocking it. I believe everyone probably has some part of themselves they would not want to know, but for her, this inner evil is revealed through war. It consumes her completely, and all of the good possibilities for her life go up in smoke. The old her becomes a casualty to the living, breathing monster of war.
The Dentist
The Dentist is quite a sweet little chapter , but there not a whole lot depth to it. It does show O'Brien's writing style however, as well as that sort of universal experience of some sort of intense, irrational fear. There obvious irony in the reckless, brave soldier going through all of the horrors of war with ease while struggling with the fear of a mere dentist. This sort of easy humor is a nice relief from the heaviness of the book.
How To Tell a True War Story
This chapter really resonated with me on several levels. First, I feel such pity for Rat Kiley's frustration at his friend's sister back home. I think part of what O'Brien is attempting to show in the book is the frustration that soldiers feel at not being able to articulate their experiences to others, to make them care. I don't think that the sister is even a necessarily a uncaring, awful person. She may simply not understand, and perhaps that is just as bad. For Rat Kiley it certainly is.
Another part of the chapter that intrigued me was Mitchell Sanders' story of the sounds of Nam (and yes, I know that was a truly awful segue). The personification of Vietnam as a collection of living beings making noises was powerful. The sense of fear and great unknown in the story made it almost like a twisted ghost story. This is not a regular war story about violence, death, destruction, or even really camaraderie. It is a story of the other times filled with a Twilight Zone type of fear because the soldiers could never determine which fears were irrational and which weren't. The lack of any real resolution to this story only continues this sense of panicked confusion.
O'Brien's analysis of this story and other war stories is what fascinates me the most though, because it views literature from a perspective that I had never thought of before. A "true war story", like any piece of literature, doesn't have to be based on reality, because the facts don't matter. The whole basis of literature is then based on shared emotions. For instance, the reason The Awakening grips me is not because of any historical accuracy or the fact that the general plot of the story is in part based on a myth. It grips me because I empathize with Edna's internal conflict and with the well-intentioned cluelessness of her husband, the same way I empathize with the soldiers in Sanders' story. A true war story attempts to convey the bizarre feelings of war. Its 'truth' is derived from the both universal and person gut reactions that you get from it.
I guess for me this was so fascinating because I had never thought of literature as an attempt to communicate things that would otherwise be inexplicable.
Another part of the chapter that intrigued me was Mitchell Sanders' story of the sounds of Nam (and yes, I know that was a truly awful segue). The personification of Vietnam as a collection of living beings making noises was powerful. The sense of fear and great unknown in the story made it almost like a twisted ghost story. This is not a regular war story about violence, death, destruction, or even really camaraderie. It is a story of the other times filled with a Twilight Zone type of fear because the soldiers could never determine which fears were irrational and which weren't. The lack of any real resolution to this story only continues this sense of panicked confusion.
O'Brien's analysis of this story and other war stories is what fascinates me the most though, because it views literature from a perspective that I had never thought of before. A "true war story", like any piece of literature, doesn't have to be based on reality, because the facts don't matter. The whole basis of literature is then based on shared emotions. For instance, the reason The Awakening grips me is not because of any historical accuracy or the fact that the general plot of the story is in part based on a myth. It grips me because I empathize with Edna's internal conflict and with the well-intentioned cluelessness of her husband, the same way I empathize with the soldiers in Sanders' story. A true war story attempts to convey the bizarre feelings of war. Its 'truth' is derived from the both universal and person gut reactions that you get from it.
I guess for me this was so fascinating because I had never thought of literature as an attempt to communicate things that would otherwise be inexplicable.
Wednesday, April 6, 2011
Enemies and Friends
I find the dynamic between soldiers really fascinating. The need for some positive human connections when being constantly barraged by others is important. I felt so incredibly attached to Dave Jensen in the beginning. Everyone knows the feeling of being isolated and afraid, but to have that experience in a place where everyone is armed to the teeth and many are already trying to kill you. The extremity of a common experience seems to be a theme in this book used to show the insanity of war.
The way O'Brien built up Jensen's paranoia also truly expressed the overwhelming tension and anxiety. The irrational nature of his fear is revealed when after Jensen breaks his own nose, Lee Strunk says in a very nonchalant, comical matter that he actually had stolen the knife that had started their fight in the first place. Perception becomes as real as reality in this case. Although these two chapters are not very long, they exemplify the book so far for me. Life at war is so transitory and destructive, that concrete possessions, ideals, or even reality becomes meaningless. Instead they are left only with the heavy, intangible perceptions, relationships, and emotions to carry.
The way O'Brien built up Jensen's paranoia also truly expressed the overwhelming tension and anxiety. The irrational nature of his fear is revealed when after Jensen breaks his own nose, Lee Strunk says in a very nonchalant, comical matter that he actually had stolen the knife that had started their fight in the first place. Perception becomes as real as reality in this case. Although these two chapters are not very long, they exemplify the book so far for me. Life at war is so transitory and destructive, that concrete possessions, ideals, or even reality becomes meaningless. Instead they are left only with the heavy, intangible perceptions, relationships, and emotions to carry.
On The Rainy River
The imagery in this chapter is both beautiful and sickening. The de-clotting of the pigs is gory like war, but in a strange way brings also brings the animalistic sense of life and adrenaline found in war. Perhaps that is simply the creation of my twisted mind, but something about it reaches a basic instinctual emotion that is unlike anything else in his manicured, cultured life.
Tim's indecision is understandable, but what makes this different is his perception of his indecision. Instead of glorifying war, he seems to idealize the anti-war movement. His obedience comes out of fear of being isolated. For him, the thought of kill other human beings and possibly being killed in the process is not nearly as terrifying as the vain fear of others not liking him. In a very tragic way, this shows his immaturity. Even though his is a few years older than many of his future fellow soldiers, he is still not ready for the intense damage of war. He cannot even cope with the idea of not being liked, so being thrown into into such a traumatic environment is almost ludicrous in a demented way.
The river seems to remind me of old myths and stories but I can't seem to exactly pick a specific one. I suppose the closest one is the Egyptians belief that rivers were transitory places between life and death. The river is also a transitory place for Tim O'Brien in this story. The eerie, quiet description of both the keeper of the Tip Top lounge and the environment lends itself to contemplation. The name of the lounge also seems to imply a precipice or turning point. When he is actually on the river with Elroy as his guide, he realizes that Canada is only a fantasy that he is too fearful of social persecution to achieve. As horrible as the prospect of war is to him, it is grounded in the society and background that he has come from, whereas Canada is a complete unknown that he would be forced to cut all ties for.
As a side note, I apologize for me thoughts being so disjointed thoughts. I suppose that is just the way my mind is working at the moment.
Tim's indecision is understandable, but what makes this different is his perception of his indecision. Instead of glorifying war, he seems to idealize the anti-war movement. His obedience comes out of fear of being isolated. For him, the thought of kill other human beings and possibly being killed in the process is not nearly as terrifying as the vain fear of others not liking him. In a very tragic way, this shows his immaturity. Even though his is a few years older than many of his future fellow soldiers, he is still not ready for the intense damage of war. He cannot even cope with the idea of not being liked, so being thrown into into such a traumatic environment is almost ludicrous in a demented way.
The river seems to remind me of old myths and stories but I can't seem to exactly pick a specific one. I suppose the closest one is the Egyptians belief that rivers were transitory places between life and death. The river is also a transitory place for Tim O'Brien in this story. The eerie, quiet description of both the keeper of the Tip Top lounge and the environment lends itself to contemplation. The name of the lounge also seems to imply a precipice or turning point. When he is actually on the river with Elroy as his guide, he realizes that Canada is only a fantasy that he is too fearful of social persecution to achieve. As horrible as the prospect of war is to him, it is grounded in the society and background that he has come from, whereas Canada is a complete unknown that he would be forced to cut all ties for.
As a side note, I apologize for me thoughts being so disjointed thoughts. I suppose that is just the way my mind is working at the moment.
Monday, April 4, 2011
Love & Spin
I truly love the little chapter on "love". I think I feel this way because it provides closure to one of the few emotional, personal stories in the last chapter. It is also refreshing for Martha to become a real, complex person with feelings and emotions all her own instead of a one-dimensional concept in Jimmy's mind. The sexual part did confuse me a bit though. Does Martha have some history of sexual abuse or homosexuality? Her becoming a religious missionary is similar to what many women of the past would do to get out of marraiges. The passive, apathetic expression in her eyes when he kissed her also seem to imply a sort of detachment towards sexuality. Later, her reaction towards Jimmy telling her of his past sexual intentions towards her seems very intense. Afterwards, she says "there was nothing she could do about [her reaction]" towards "the things men do", suggesting that she has some instinct or trauma against men and sexuality.
I also find it interesting that Jimmy still loves her after all of the years, even though she appears to be rather distant and damaged. Perhaps the distant quality she has is what attracts him. She is his unreachable dream. This small story also reveals the intense comaraderie that develops between the soldiers.
Spin
In the strangest way, this chapter makes me think of Stockholm syndrome. Even when people are in horrific situations, the find normalcy and become attached to the insanity. The tiny good moments almost seem not only give mirth and freedom to many of the soldiers, but also to intensify their pain and trauma. It seems nearly impossible to even begin to mentally or emotionally reconcile a situation in which one mintute you are sitting under a tree with your friend, and the next minute a simple misstep blows him into little bits all around you.
For people in their late teens and early twenties, a year at war is about five percent of their entire life. That means that much of their experiences and sense of 'average' will come from their grotesque and bizarre time at war. Perhaps people adapt to easily. They are still young "boy[s]" whose mental outlook is continuing to develop. How could a person live a healthy, idyllic, suburban life later on when their younger years were spent in trauma and chaos? The surreal polarizing positve and negative experiences jauxtaposed so immediately would take a lifetime to even begin to process. Just look at Tim O'Brien: Around 20 years after the war had ended he was still writing about his experiences, perhaps as a way to sort them out for himself. This chapter definitely brings much more the the emotion I didn't get from the first chapter.
I truly love the little chapter on "love". I think I feel this way because it provides closure to one of the few emotional, personal stories in the last chapter. It is also refreshing for Martha to become a real, complex person with feelings and emotions all her own instead of a one-dimensional concept in Jimmy's mind. The sexual part did confuse me a bit though. Does Martha have some history of sexual abuse or homosexuality? Her becoming a religious missionary is similar to what many women of the past would do to get out of marraiges. The passive, apathetic expression in her eyes when he kissed her also seem to imply a sort of detachment towards sexuality. Later, her reaction towards Jimmy telling her of his past sexual intentions towards her seems very intense. Afterwards, she says "there was nothing she could do about [her reaction]" towards "the things men do", suggesting that she has some instinct or trauma against men and sexuality.
I also find it interesting that Jimmy still loves her after all of the years, even though she appears to be rather distant and damaged. Perhaps the distant quality she has is what attracts him. She is his unreachable dream. This small story also reveals the intense comaraderie that develops between the soldiers.
Spin
In the strangest way, this chapter makes me think of Stockholm syndrome. Even when people are in horrific situations, the find normalcy and become attached to the insanity. The tiny good moments almost seem not only give mirth and freedom to many of the soldiers, but also to intensify their pain and trauma. It seems nearly impossible to even begin to mentally or emotionally reconcile a situation in which one mintute you are sitting under a tree with your friend, and the next minute a simple misstep blows him into little bits all around you.
For people in their late teens and early twenties, a year at war is about five percent of their entire life. That means that much of their experiences and sense of 'average' will come from their grotesque and bizarre time at war. Perhaps people adapt to easily. They are still young "boy[s]" whose mental outlook is continuing to develop. How could a person live a healthy, idyllic, suburban life later on when their younger years were spent in trauma and chaos? The surreal polarizing positve and negative experiences jauxtaposed so immediately would take a lifetime to even begin to process. Just look at Tim O'Brien: Around 20 years after the war had ended he was still writing about his experiences, perhaps as a way to sort them out for himself. This chapter definitely brings much more the the emotion I didn't get from the first chapter.
Friday, April 1, 2011
The Things They Carried
After reading the first story, The Things They Carried, I honestly feel a bit disappointed. Or rather, I should say, I feel nothing at all. The list format throughout much of the story made the chapter more tedious that I had expected. And while I understand how the list creates anonymity and detachment to reveal the feelings of the soldiers and perception by society, like the soldiers, it leaves me devoid of more powerful emotions.
That being said, I do love the bitter irony of some moments in the story. For instance, the dramatic tension as Lee Strunk knowingly enters the dangerous tunnel is jarringly ended when Ted Lavender is unexpectedly shot in the head while casually walking back from urinating. This is more a death for a 1000 Ways To Die than a hero's death. In this way, the senseless insanity of war is shown through humor much like in that of Joseph Heller's Catch-22.
I also found that even though the purposeful monotony of some parts of the story left me emotionless, there were many very symbolic parts that did give me pause. The symbolism of Martha for instance, is really quite incredible because she is us. She represents the American citizen's idealism surrounding war. Although Jimmy Cross loves her, he comes to realize that "she did not love him and never would". I suppose this could either show the way citizens always feel detached from war and the soldiers giving up their entire lives and even sanity to fight for their country, or it could be a reference to the politcal turmoil and huge anti-war movement in the United States during Vietnam. How awful would it be to come to the realization that the thing you could be dying for has very little attachment to you whatsoever?
Overall, I find the the story was very deep and and rich in a literary sense, and I’m hoping the more intensely emotional parts will come later on in the book. I do have to say that I prefer this book greatly over There Eyes Were Watching God (sorry Clary).
That being said, I do love the bitter irony of some moments in the story. For instance, the dramatic tension as Lee Strunk knowingly enters the dangerous tunnel is jarringly ended when Ted Lavender is unexpectedly shot in the head while casually walking back from urinating. This is more a death for a 1000 Ways To Die than a hero's death. In this way, the senseless insanity of war is shown through humor much like in that of Joseph Heller's Catch-22.
I also found that even though the purposeful monotony of some parts of the story left me emotionless, there were many very symbolic parts that did give me pause. The symbolism of Martha for instance, is really quite incredible because she is us. She represents the American citizen's idealism surrounding war. Although Jimmy Cross loves her, he comes to realize that "she did not love him and never would". I suppose this could either show the way citizens always feel detached from war and the soldiers giving up their entire lives and even sanity to fight for their country, or it could be a reference to the politcal turmoil and huge anti-war movement in the United States during Vietnam. How awful would it be to come to the realization that the thing you could be dying for has very little attachment to you whatsoever?
Overall, I find the the story was very deep and and rich in a literary sense, and I’m hoping the more intensely emotional parts will come later on in the book. I do have to say that I prefer this book greatly over There Eyes Were Watching God (sorry Clary).
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