Nicholas Branch is an Unnecessary Part of Libra

I brought this point up in class the other day; this idea that the whole Nicholas Branch part of Libra  is a really unnecessary aspect of the book. Now, maybe this idea stems from the fact that even after having finished the novel, I STILL don't understand what Branch was up to and in fact found all of his parts extremely confusing, but from what I do understand about Branch and his story, they don't seem to be an integral part of the novel.

That sentence was long. Let me try again.

What I'm trying to say is that I think Libra could've succeeded as a story without Branch and his parts. Like, to me it seemed Branch was put in to give the novel that "meta" aspect we've talked about so much in class. But I feel like Libra itself already had that aspect to it. I mean, just looking at the JFK assassination from a different perspective and under different circumstances causes us to rethink and reshape our thoughts on what really happened and why and the consequences of that. We don't need a character in the book to help channel those thoughts because just by simply reading, we are having them. (Hope that made more sense.)

The thing is, Branch didn't really add anything to the story, at least not for me. He was more of an annoyance than anything else. I'd be smack dab in the middle of Lee's story, and then all of a sudden I'm reading about Branch, and I'm like, "Hold up. What's this? What's going on?" It'd get so confusing, simply because I was so wrapped up in the Lee story that I had forgotten about the Branch part of it. And I think that's when you can tell if a character or if a part of a story is unnecessary.

I encountered the same thing with my short story project. I had used a frame narrative couple for meta purposes and to ease my way into my main story. The frame narrative couple basically stood as bookmarks for the main novel couple. But that didn't work. As my peer edit told me, "I had completely forgotten about your other couple, and so when they came in I was like 'Whoa, who are these people?' and had to go searching to find where they had been before." (Or, well, he said something like that.) The point is, there was no use for my frame narrative couple. What I wanted to use them for worked out fine without them. My story stood without them, and the messages I wanted conveyed were conveyed. And that's why I feel like Nicholas Branch and his story is unnecessary,

But hey. It's ok, Branch. You can go hang with my frame narrative couple.

Lee at the Hands of Fate

In my last post, I asked what makes Lee so easily manipulated? Why is it that he goes along so willingly with other people's plans and ideas? I stated it was because of him wanting to find himself and find a place to belong. However, I now offer up a different answer. Fate and astrology.

Libra plays on these two main themes; the idea that Lee has a certain fate that can not be avoided and is essentially linked to his astrological sign, which of course, is Libra. As a Libra, and especially if we're looking at the negative aspects of that astrological sign, Lee is unsteady and impulsive. We see these traits appear several times in the novel, for example when Lee shot himself or when he planned the assassination of General Walker. However, the main thing about Lee being a Libra that leads into his unavoidable fate, is the fact that he is, "easily, easily, easily influenced." Because of how Lee is, he's able to be easily manipulated by other people, thus explaining his entire part in the JFK assassination. Lee can not avoid his astrological sign, which means he can not avoid being so easily influenced and manipulated. He truly is a victim of fate. It was Lee's fate to be a Libra, and being that Libra is the reason why he got involved int he JFK assassination.

But it goes further than that. See, I used to think that the whole assassination plot was Ferrie's thing. He was the evil mastermind that developed the whole scheme, and was the one who personally manipulated Lee into getting involved in it. In my eyes, he planned the entire thing. But I know that's just not so. Ferrie admits himself that JFK coming to Dallas where Lee just happens to be and his car taking a route that goes right by the building where Lee works is something he could never arrange and I believe that. Those things are not just mere coincidences. It's fate. Lee is somehow meant to assassinate the president, and it seems to be some sort of astrological destiny.

It really makes you think differently about Lee. He's a victim of fate. What can you do? Do we still blame him, if the only reason he acted was because of outside forces out of anyone's control that controlled him? Do we put the blame on him because his astrological sign caused so much trouble? I mean, can you even do that? Someone's astrological sign is a part of him, so in effect, can you blame someone for doing something bad if it's in their blood, if they can't help it at all?

This all makes me very nervous and confused. Especially since I'm a Libra.

Why is Lee So Easily Manipulated?

In Libra, Lee becomes a pawn in this secret plan to "assassinate" and miss the President. From my point of view, he's being manipulated this entire time. He never really knows what's going on, but he goes along with it. Why, I ask you? What makes Lee so easily malleable? Why is it that everyone can control him. to an extent of course, but still. Lee moves from place to place, sometimes on his own accord, but sometimes based on the talk of others. He let's people tell him what to do, or at least takes their suggestions and follows through with it. Why?

I think it's because Lee is desperate to fit in somewhere and make a name for himself. From his childhood, he was always displaced. No matter where he lived, people made fun of him. Lee just wanted to be liked and accepted by them, but he was turned away. So, in an effort to find himself and find his place, Lee turned away from the U.S. and headed off to Russia. But even there, he wasn't a part of anything. He thought he was, but in truth, he still didn't find who Lee was and where he fit in the world. So when he comes back to the U.S., a different man but still a man who doesn't quite know who he is, he's easily taken under anybody's wing.

Lee just needs to find himself and his niche. We've seen him try several different things, a military man, a U.S. citizen, a Russian citizen, Pro-Castro, communist, socialist, assassin, etc. The list just goes on and on. I really think that Libra is about Lee trying to find himself and where he belongs, but because he's so desperate to find all this, he'll take on any role and go anywhere and do anything, because it just might end up being what he needs. And for that, I feel sorry for him. You know, Lee really wants this, and he tries so hard to get it. He goes through not only emotional pain but physical as well. Those shots he fired at himself? A cry for attention, yes, a cry for something because to Lee, without knowing who he is or where he belongs, he doesn't have anything. And that's what I feel is so sad about his character; that he's such a lost soul that he will go to the ends of the earth by any means necessary to find who he is and where he truly belongs.

Assassins

My mind is just filled with too many musicals.

Since starting Libra, all I can think about is the musical by Stephen Sondheim, "Assassins," which tells the stories of the people who both succeeded and failed in assassinating a president. Each of the assassins stories, called ballads, are narrated/sung by a balladeer, who later is revealed to be Lee Harvey Oswald. In the song, "Take a Look, Lee" the ghosts or spirits or whatever of previous and future presidential assassins convince Lee to kill JFK instead of taking is own life. They tell how his name will leave on for years and years, and how he helps them live again. Together, they create history.

It's a powerful song, and with all this talk in class about the various theories surrounding JFK's assassination, I feel I should bring this one up. After all, it's all I've been hearing in my head as we've been reading. That, and the song that directly follows this one, "Something Just Broke," which is about everybody's feelings after JFK has been assassinated. It's the "where I was, what I was doing" song.

You know, it is an interesting theory to think about. The spirits of assassins led Lee to commit murder. Fits right in with all the other theories. However, it does kind of reinforce the idea that Lee was nothing more than a crazed crackpot. Yet, the lines of "Take a Look, Lee" are really powerful. I mean, the assassins aren't wrong. Sometimes the names that live in infamy live longer than the ones that once reveled in fame. It's true that Lee will live on forever, and become a part of history along with John Wilkes Booth and Leon Czolgosz and Charles Guiteau and yes, even John Hinckley. Indeed, Lee, through killing JFK, shapes history more than he thinks. JFK becomes a president forever immortalized as a great man who did wonderful things for his country. Almost all negative views of him are pushed away, such as how any negative views of Abraham Lincoln were wiped away when he was assassinated by Booth. The assassination changes people's perceptions of their presidents, and we can see, from "Something Just Broke," that that perception will have a lasting impact on the entire country.

A Different Time, A Different Life

There's still one question that lingers in my mind after reading Kindred. If Rufus and Alice lived in a different time, say 1976 like Dana and Kevin, would they have been able to have a real relationship? I completely believe that time and environment have a major effect on society. Can a white man and a black woman have a relationship, be in love with one another, marry? Yes, absolutely! But it hasn't always been seen that way. That's not to say that interracial couples didn't exist at certain points in history, it's just that they were looked down upon on society, seen as immoral or wrong. So, because of that, to an extent I feel like Rufus and Alice could've had a fine relationship in a different time. Perhaps Rufus wouldn't treat her as badly because he wouldn't have been brought up in a racist household. Perhaps the relationship would've been less abusive. Perhaps, perhaps, perhaps...but some people would disagree with all of my "perhaps." They would argue that to see if the relationship could work in a different time, you have to examine it outside of time.

 By looking at Rufus and Alice's relationship outside of time, we see them as people, and only that. They're not products of nature or products of nurture. We simply see who they are and how they interact. Theoretically, by looking at purely their relationship and love interests, we could set them down in any time and expect the same results.

So. Rufus and Alice outside of time. What do we see?

Well, for starters, it is clear that Alice's heart lies elsewhere. She chose a man other than Rufus: Isaac. Alice and Isaac were in love, and had even gotten married. Alice chose and went to Isaac completely on her own free will, and when she was with him, it never seemed like anything was wrong between the two of them. That relationship seemed to be an equal and loving one. Rufus and Alice on the other hand..the love is forced. Rufus obviously cares for Alice, but doesn't know how to show it, and indeed he never truly learns how to express his affection for her. Alice, in turn, feels out of place in the relationship. There is definite tension between the two, and whether that comes from unresolved feelings or forced romance is anyone's guess. Though Rufus and Alice may have been close friends when they were younger, it is clear that their feelings changed as they grew older.

And yet, I still can't help but think that even if we look at Rufus and Alice outside of time, we're still seeing the effects of their society. For instance, does Rufus not know how to show Alice that he loves her simply because he's never seen a white man express love for a black woman? The entire idea is so unthinkable and socially repugnant to him that it ends up being a very confusing experience for him? And maybe that divide in childhood stemmed from their racial, and thus social, differences. Who's to say that in another time, they would've remained just as close as adults as they had been as children?

Trying to get thoughts like these out makes my head hurt. It's so difficult to separate people from their society, culture, and time period, that I am quite clear of. Whether or not Rufus and Alice could have a successful relationship in another time? That question remains unanswered.

Why Does Everybody Hate Kevin?

Seriously, why?

Sometimes I feel like I'm the only one who actually liked Kevin. True, he had his faults, but who doesn't? I just felt like everybody was focusing far too much on his negative qualities and weren't looking at Kevin at a whole.

For instance, everbody kept insinuating that deep down Kevin was a racist, that he and Dana had a bad (possibly abusive) relationship, and that that all surfaced when he and Dana traveled to the past. I don't deny that Kevin said some rude things that could be taken as racist, buthe only really said those after living in the past for quite some time. His environment definitely had some sort of an impact on him. I mean, when you hang around a white man's plantation for a while, some things are bound to pass on and stick. I'm not saying that Kevin shouldn't take responsibility for some of his words and actions, but I don't think we should slander him as an inherently bad person and a racist. I mean, even when the guy was trapped back in the 1800's, he still managed to cling on to his 20th-century values, and was able to help lead slaves to freedom. I think that the changes we see in Kevin came about through his interactions with the historical environment and not from some deeply repressed self.

As for his relationship with Dana, I'm sorry, but no. Just no. Their relationship is anything but abusive and I don't really see anything wrong with it. They're a normal couple, and a normal couple has fights, like the one that surrounded Dana typing Kevin's manuscripts. It's little things like that that people just went nitpicky crazy on, trying to use what little evidence they had to insinuate that Dana and Kevin's relationship had never been a good one. But think about it. Think about what Dana and Kevin go through in Kindred. We're not exactly seeing the couple in a normal situation. True, we got a glimpse or two of their normal lives, but for the most part, they're trying to live and cope in an unimaginable scenario. What would you do if your loved one suddenly dissapeared, then reappeared in a different area seconds later, possibly beaten? The travels are certainly a stressor on their relationship, but as I said before with the racism accusations, I thinnk it comes about more from the environment and the situation rather than from some underlying factor. I mean, we never see the couple voluntarily split. True, Dana pushes Kevin away from her, but that's more for his own safety. Neither Dana nor Kevin simply walk away from each other, thinking that this whole thing and the other person is too much to handle. Indeed, even when they are split up, they do everything they can to try and find one another again. Dana and Kevin are clearly devoted to each other, and we see them rushing to each other's  side and trying to do anything they can to help the other in times of trouble. I'll concede and say their relationship isn't perfect, but really, whose is?

To make a long blog post short, LEAVE KEVIN ALONE.

Looking Back

When dealing with historical novels, we are faced with the process of looking back. That is, going back into the past, even if it is only through literary measures, and remembering events, experiencing them even if we had not. It's supposed to be a good thing, right? Even if something in the past is bad, we have to look back on it and remember it so that we can not only get past it but we can also learn about for the future. Isn't that the way it should be? Both Slaughterhouse-Five and Kindred dealt with this topic of looking back,  but their view on it isn't entirely positive or optimistic.

Slaughterhouse-Five directly contradicts the view that we must look back, even on exceedingly painful memories, if we ever want to be healed and able to move on through the view of the Tralfamadorians. They say that instead of looking back on bad times, one should just ignore them and focus only on the good times. There will always be bad moments, they say, so looking back on bad experiences to learn form them and be better off in the future is a waste of time. We also get a sense from the beginning of the book that looking back has serious consequences.We read a brief passage about Lot's wife looking back and turning to a pillar of salt. From this, we get the feeling that maybe it is not such a good thing to look back. Perhaps the past brings about memories that are too painful to be experienced, and that in fact by looking back we lose ourselves and become, well, pillars of salt.

The same idea comes about in Kindred; the idea that looking back is a painful experience and one can sometimes lose themselves in the past. Dana knows this all to well as she literally lost her arm due to her time travel. In fact, a piece of her is stuck back in the 1800's. This powerful symbolism is hard to look over. Again, the idea comes across that even if certain times are important, such as the time of slavery in the U.S, looking back on them is terrible and can often cause more harm than good. We see this for both Dana and Kevin who, besides being emotionally affected by their time travels, are also physically affected, and often for the worse. Kevin has aged five years, though he has only "really" been gone for a couple of days, and has a massive scar on his face to boot. Dana, however, is the more physically affected, from welts and scars on her back from beatings to the loss of her left arm. By looking back into the past, both Dana and Kevin had serious painful encounters, and the experience was such a trying one that it did not let them go. Parts of them were left behind, be it an arm or simply their presence. Once they were there, and then they weren't. Poof. And yet the affect is still the same. And in lookng at the severity of their injuries, it seems that for Dana, whose racial and personal connections to the Weylin past are greater than Kevin's, the experience has a far more lasting impact. Perhaps that means that for those of us who go looking into our own personal past and history, something we have a connection to, we may not like what we find. We may be faced with a harsh truth that is painful to understand, and in trying to understand, we lose ourselves.

Tralfamadorian Time

Time is such an interesting concept, and Slaughterhouse-Five definitely shows that. The whole book is written out of order, but it has an almost linear sense to it, and you come away with a feeling of completeness. It's almost like how the Tralfamadorian novels are written. You have these series of vignettes, little passages and moments separated by dots, and sometimes the moments connect and sometimes they don't. But when you look at all the moments from above, after completion of the novel, you really see the depth and, as the Tralfamadorians describe, "an image of life that is beautiful and surprising and deep" (Vonnegut 112).

I think the Tralfamadorian idea of time is really cool and I wish I could see in four dimensions so that I could really experience Tralfamadorian time. It's intriguing, especially since it's so hard to think of time in such a manner. We're so used to thinking of time as a strict progeression of cause to effect, but actually from a non-linear, non-subjective viewpoint, it's more like a big ball of wibbly wobbly timey wimey stuff.

Sorry. Doctor Who reference. Couldn't resist.

But anyways, it actually is kind of hard to think of time in any other way but linear since we can't, or at least can't seem to, experience it any other way. Like, the thing that most attracts me to the Tralfamadorian way of viewing time is the whole "so it goes" thing; the idea that nobody is ever truly dead. You're always living because you have all the moments before your death. So what is death even? Just the end of the body. The person still exists, has always existed, and will always exist. And that just seems so beautiful to me. But why is it so beautiful? Because from my linear perspective, a death really is the end of a person. True, there are memories, but memories are only in your mind and you can't experience them as moments like the Tralfamadorians can. So this whole idea of basically eternal life just seems so out there and so wonderful, though to the Tralfamadorians it wouldn't be anything special at all. It's just how things are.

I do have this feeling, though, that the Tralfamadorian idea of time is actually the correct one. I have no idea what science is saying right now, but I just feel like time can't be linear. I feel like time is just existing, that is, everything that ever happened, is happening, and ever will happen is happening right now. All of history, all at once. It's just, we can't perceive it. There are some sort of barriers, and I suppose that comes from our lack of a fourth dimension sense. But I just feel like things can't just happen and then be done. That makes it sound like time dies. I dunno. I'm sort of rambling now, but I guess what I'm trying to get at is that the Tralfamadorian idea of time is wonderful, and most likely correct, but it's so hard for us to think about time in that way because of our own linear bias.

Written in Jazz

When we were reading Ragtime, we talked about how it was written like the music itself. There was syncopation and the words flowed together in the rhythm of ragtime. Mumbo Jumbo is the same way, only its music is jazz. Upon first reading Mumbo Jumbo, the sentences seem like utter nonsense. Grammar and syntax are all wrong, and there are all these made up words that don't make any sense. Reading and trying to understand what's going makes your head heart. But you can't read it to really understand it; you have to hear it.

When you read sentences aloud like, "Sprawled upon his knees is Zuzu, local doo-wack-a-doo and voo-do-dee-odo fizgig" (Reed 3) you think, "What is he even talking about?" The words make no sense. Doo-wack-a-doo? Fizgig? But when you think about them in relation to music, it all makes sense. The words are scatting. It's jazz improvisation literally written on to the page, and when this sentence is read aloud it sounds like music. I find that when you read parts of Mumbo Jumbo out loud, sentences and paragraphs that once were confusing, are now understandable, and it's because Mumbo Jumbo  is written in jazz. You have to listen to jazz to get the full experience and understand what it's saying, and it's the same with Mumbo Jumbo. It's really marvelous how the sentences actually flow together rhythmically, interspersed with scat and other jazz improvisations. Reed is making music with words.

The jazz literary style of Mumbo Jumbo also helps to convey the time period and the plot. It feels like the 1920's when you read the sentences, and you can practically hear someone wailing on a trumpet in the background. But the jazz style also really helps with identifying with and understanding Jes Grew. Like jazz, Jes Grew is free and flowing, prone to changes and improvisations. People make Jes Grew what they want it to be just like how they play or sing a song however they want to in jazz. Similarly, both can not be captured on the page or in a text. Honestly, you lose the meaning of scat if you literally write out on sheet music "dot da ba da da ba zoop zop whee" because it takes away all the improvisation and spontaneous feeling and emotion that scat provides. (You can see my previous post for why Jes Grew can not be contained in a text.)

I love the idea of writing in music, and I think that if I had listened to Mumbo Jumbo  on audiotape, I would've enjoyed it much more, understand it better, and gotten a whole lot more out of it than I actually did. I always felt I knew what was going on more in the book if passages were read out loud than if I read them on my own, and I think it's really because of the jazz style. It's hard and difficult to read jazz, but listening to it is as easy and breezy as sop op di dop bop wow zee.

When Containing Something Kills It

A lot of Mumbo Jumbo was spent trying to find the text for Jes Grew. In the end, the text was burned, yet Jes Grew survived. It was thought that Jes Grew needed that text for survival, when in fact the opposite was true. Jes Grew didn't need the text, and in fact it never needed it. Jes Grew needs to be free, because if it is not, then that is when Jes Grew truly dies.

It's like with the Art Detention stuff. Museums are thought to be places where history and culture are preserved for all to know and learn about. They're supposed to be good things, educational and necessary. After all, without museums, some history and cultures may have been lost, wouldn't they? Museums are meant to preserve, aren't they? And yet, looking at museums from an Art Detention point of view, that is not what a museum should be doing at all. Instead of letting history and culture live, they're kept locked up behind glass walls, frozen in time and space. One may think they're experiencing history, but in fact they are merely observing and interpreting. I mean, staring at a jug from Ancient Greece is one thing, using it is another. You can't have an experience when things are locked up. The uses and importance of things actually seem to fade in captivity. No longer is art or dance or music something that is to be experienced, it is something to be observed and studied from a distance. But that just kills all the life in a culture. Music...you can't just pin down music to beats and notes and measures. When you do that, you lose all the feeling and emotion. Yes, the theory is important, but you could never have the theory and just listen to the music and be moved. You see what I mean? Culture is something that needs to be experienced to live. It can't be locked up or pinned down to a study. That's killing culture.

That's how Jes Grew is. If you give Jes Grew a text, then you've suddenly decided what Jes Grew is and it can never change. Jes Grew will always be those words on a page. What changes is the interpretation of those words. Jes Grew becomes something you must study, like the Bible. The Bible takes religion and puts it into a set of rules and guidelines, stories and legends, but they're all just words, words that no one dares to change because they are seen as sacred. So what do we do if we disagree with what the words say? We study, we try to re-interpret the text, but no matter what we do, the text stays the same. If a religion didn't have a text, it could possibly be more spiritual because it is something to be experienced, not studied. I see Jes Grew as a religion, well actually, a sense of spirituality. It moves people, it has power and sway, and can be virtually anything to anyone who wants it. That's how Jes Grew can move from person to person, because it does something different for each individual. If Jes Grew had a text, there would be limitations on what Jes Grew could be. Parts of Jes Grew would die off because the text would not allow them to exist. Jes Grew needs to live and be experienced. That's what it can't have a text.

It's such an interesting thought, because we so often think that things need to be contained in order for them to be understood and passed on. But we never stop to think about the consequences of doing such a thing. Containing something kills it. What you must do is let it be free. Let it live. Experience life. Don't study it.

Mumbo Jumbo Jumbo Mumbo

I don't even know where to begin on this novel. I've had such a hard time trying to blog about it because I just can not seem to follow/grasp/understand this novel. I read it, yes, often multiple times, but every time I pull away from the book, it's like everything I just read disappears. In the moment, I know what's happening, or at least I have a better sense of what's going on. (Even sometimes when I'm reading I just read words and sentences but don't grasp the entire meaning.) However, once I set the book down, even it's just for a millisecond, I completely lose track of where I was and what I was reading.

I feel like my problem is with Reed's style. Whenever we go over what exactly is going on in the novel in class, I understand it. I get it. I see that there is a story here, a plot, something is actually happening. When I'm reading, I don't get the same impression and I often mess things up. 

For example, I thought Hinckle Von Vampton was a good guy at first. I thought he was trying to get information out to the general public through his newspaper, but his bosses and the people who controlled him had the newspaper purposefully censored and fired Hinckle Von Vampton. I thought he was a victim of the Wallflower Order. That just shows how messed up my reading was.

I just get lost in the flow of the novel. It wraps around my head and seeps into my mind, covering all observant thoughts. I feel like I'm missing important things in the novel simply because I can't understand what Reed is saying! These sentences may sound beautiful or read beautifully, but I really have to think about them, analyze them, to truly understand what's going on.

It's like poetry. Don't get me wrong, I love poetry, but I get so caught up in the beauty of it when I'm reading it that I don't always understand what the poem is really about. The lines and stanzas may flow beautifully and have such music in their meter, but when I look at the individual words and sentences and how they all come together, I'm left with a big fat "Wha?" It's just too much for me. The style covers up the substance. 

With this one trouble of simply trying to understand what's happening in the novel and actually remembering what I just read, I can't tell if I'm enjoying "Mumbo Jumbo" or not. I honestly don't know. I feel like I'm just reading it, and I know I could get more into it. I get into it in class, with what I can follow. In class, once we get rid of the style and uncover the substance beneath it, I am intrigued and interested. I just wish that feeling, that knowledge and understanding, that interest and such would transfer over to when I'm just reading the novel myself. 

Though many in my class prefer "Mumbo Jumbo" to "Ragtime" I have to say that I'd pick "Ragtime" over "Mumbo Jumbo" any day. I never really got people's problems with "Ragtime." I dunno. Maybe I'm biased. But I prefer reading something I can follow, understand, and enjoy, instead of feeling like I'm in a daze or have an amnesia when I try to read.

End of an Era

So. I didn't blog through "Ragtime" the way I had planned to. There were just too many songs to cover, and not enough time to go as in depth as I wanted to. It's kind of disappointing. However, I am pleased with what I did with my blog for "Ragtime" as well as my presentation in class on the Coalhouse X Sarah dynamic in the musical versus in the novel.

I'd like to encourage everyone to pick up where I left off. Listen to the musical "Ragtime." See the differences for yourself. Let the musical take you to a different place, or help you re-interpret the novel, or vice versa, or whatever. To start off, I have some clips from the show. From here, you can move on and explore the wonder that is the musical "Ragtime."

The Night That Goldman Spoke At Union Square/Gliding

Emma Goldman is a much less major character in the musical than she is in the novel. In fact, her entire story is practically condensed into a single song, "The Night That Goldman Spoke At Union Square." In this song, we have Emma talking about Lawrence, affecting Tateh and his Little Girl, as well as her interaction with Younger Brother. 

Evelyn and Emma don't have the same interaction that they have in the novel. It's only slightly hinted at with the line Emma sings towards Younger Brother, "Masturbates for a vaudeville tart, what a waste of a fiery heart, dear!" In the subsequent lines, we have everything that Emma stands for and everything that she says to people, from Evelyn to Younger Brother to crowds at different meetings. 

"Poor young bourgeois! There are things that you've never thought. Come to Emma and you'll be taught, here...People feathered and tarred, my friend. Unions broken, and why for? Children laboring, women still enslaved! Leave your little backyard, my friend. There are causes to die for!"

Emma, as well as some of her friends, refer to Younger Brother as "bourgeois" when he comes to one of her meetings, and Emma gives him words of inspiration. The line "people feathered and tarred, my friend," refers to Ben Reitman's story in one quick measure, and the line "women still enslaved" condenses Emma's whole argument about marriage being bondage into three little words. Lots of things from the novel are alluded to in this song, but never fully fleshed out.

This bridge in the song quickly leads to Younger Brother being inspired, which leads to his later involvement with Coalhouse, and Emma seeing something in him with the line, "I've been waiting for you," which probably alludes to the line in the novel, "Goldman said, 'He reminded me of Czolgosz.'" Chapters about Emma Goldman are condensed into this song, and she becomes less of a character in her own right, but more of a symbol and the catalyst for Younger Brother's later actions.

From Union Square, we move to Lawrence where Tateh is sending his Little Girl off on the train so she can live in safety, avoiding the strike. However, a riot breaks out, and as Tateh curses America, we hear the Little Girl screaming at him, "Tateh, Tateh!" just as she does in the novel. As the music escalates, in time with the train gaining speed, Tateh runs after the train, jumps, and manages to catch on to the railing, which he uses to pull himself over onto the platform with his Little Girl. The Little Girl is crying, and Tateh consoles her with his flip book, the later "movie book" that he created.

As the Little Girl "glides" in the silhouette book, she and Tateh "glide" on and on, from train to train, getting as far away from the pain and trouble as they can. This is interesting, especially considering the part of the song where Tateh sings about his wife, something he very rarely does in musical and novel. The line, "When I am afraid, I imagine your mother. She skates just ahead! Can you see her? She's here!" seems very contrary to the Tateh I know in both media. Tateh is supposed to never speak of his wife, she is dead to him, and yet here he is singing about her in a positive light. Tateh uses his wife as a way to make his Little Girl feel better, and seems to suggest that he still yearns for her, seeing as how she "skates just ahead." It's interesting to note that as Tateh and his Little Girl are "gliding" away from the past, with a vow that they'll "never look back" they are "gliding" towards Tateh's wife. I've never quite known what to make of this part of the song, and still really have no idea. 

Instead of Tateh going off and selling his "movie book" to the Franklin Novelty Company, which actually gives the item its name, for twenty-five dollars, Tateh is inspired to sell his creation to the train conducter conductor, who shows interest in it, and he sells it for only one dollar (later two dollars) with a name that he comes up with on the spot. This way, it almost seems like Tateh eases his way into capitilism capitalism almost by accident, whereas in the novel, it's very clear that he's purposefully abandoning socialism. The whole reason for his change is because Tateh cares so deeply for his daughter and wants only the best for her. It's why he is called "Tateh." He is a father, his main purpose in life is to be a father to his Little Girl. She is at the front of his mind when he moves into capitalist society, because he knows that that is the only way they can truly survive and succeed, which has been Tateh's goal all along (there's a song that the novel doesn't cover called "Success" which details Tateh and his Little Girl first coming to America. Tateh's initial hopes and dreams of success, and their fall into poverty on the Lower East Side). They must move on from socialism, and "glide" into capitalism. With this change in idealism, purely for the sake of his daughter, Tateh vows to "never look back", that is to never return to what he and his Little Girl once were: poor, socialist immigrants. And with that, a couple notes from the song "A Shetl Iz Amereke", the song Tateh and his Little Girl sang about how America is their home when they first immigrated, play, enforcing the idea that their days as poor immigrants are done.

Crime of the Century

Evelyn Nesbit. Evelyn Nesbit. Coming from the musical, I never would have expected to like her in the novel, or to even feel sympathy for her. But I do. It's strange since because of the musical background I had towards Ragtime, I assumed that Evelyn Nesbit would be just like her stage counterpart:flighty, and only interested in fortune and fame. Instead, I came across a young, vulnerable woman, who had been taken advantage by not only the men in her life, but all the men of America. Evelyn Nesbit was a sex symbol, a picture in profile asking an "eternal question" and nothing more. Men gaped at her beauty. The press savored her testimonies in court. Evelyn no longer was herself, instead she had become this ideal, this trademark beauty, ruined by lust and madness. I never saw this in the musical, and the song "Crime of the Century" obviously shows why.

The entire song is a farce. It takes place as a vaudeville number, complete with dancing girls and yes, Evelyn Nesbit on a velvet swing. You can tell right away the difference in tone and character the musical takes by hearing Evelyn's "Wheee!" It's silly, airy, and of little to no substance. The entire song is! It tells the story of Evelyn Nesbit, Stanford White, and Harry K. Thaw(and also shows Younger Brother's care for Evelyn but in a much cleaner fashion), but in such a way that it doesn't seem serious at all. This was a murder, people! Not a vaudeville number! But that's what the musical makes it out to be, and that's how the musical Evelyn acts. Look at some of the things she sings, "Harry's in trouble and Stanny's in Heaven and Evelyn is in vaudeville/gets publicity!" Does this remind you at all of the woman touched by Tateh and his Little Girl? No, I didn't think so. This Evelyn would never venture near the tenements on the Lower East Side, nor would she associate with Emma Goldman. All the Evelyn in the musical "Ragtime" cares about is publicity, fortune, and fame, and she relishes every waking moment of it.

Evelyn in the novel does not seem to enjoy her participation in the trial at all. Perhaps it's just the detached narration, but I get the feeling that Evelyn does not wish for the fame the trial is bringing her at all. If anything, she wants to get away from Harry and their relationship and all. Testifying for him in court is definitely not getting her away from him. I just, I really feel like Evelyn in the novel is a much more sympathetic character, mainly because her situation is not presented in a farcical vaudeville number, but instead in plain narration (detached or not) that makes Evelyn not a symbol for the press, but instead a woman. A young woman affected by circumstance, but who still cares and indeed cares for things above and beyond fortune and fame. In the novel, we see a woman who can, and in fact does, love. I don't see that in the musical Evelyn. Maybe that's the main difference between the two. Love. Compassion.

I see two completely different Evelyns here, the novel one and the musical one, and who can say which one is more accurate? The actual historical Evelyn Nesbit probably falls somewhere in between the two! But we may never know. We have Evelyn on the swing, and Evelyn with Emma Goldman, and these two Evelyns are so different from each other, and yet they are still the same person.

Creative interpretation is a wonderful phenomenon.

What Kind of Woman

(Apologies for the ending of the video. The last note leads directly into the next song.)

"What Kind of Woman" is the song Mother sings when she finds the newborn child in her garden. The musical takes the passages from the novel, and expands them, giving us more of an insight into Mother's thoughts during the whole ordeal. Indeed, in some ways the musical seems to tie up loose ends, finish sentences, and give explanations for certain actions that aren't quite explained or followed through in the novel.

In the novel, we have the line "She felt keenly her husband's absence and condemned herself for so readily endorsing his travels." However, in the musical, there are several lines expanded on this feeling that Mother has. She sings, "Why in God's name is my husband not here? I'm such a fool! Why did I say he was free to go, what am I to do, where are you instructions my dear?' It's a glimpse into Mother and Father's relationship, seeing that he leaves her lists on how to take care of the house while she's gone, a fact I don't recall in the novel.

The line from the novel, "every morning these washwomen came up the hill from the trolley lie on North Avenue and fanned into the houses," is, in a sense, finished in the song.  The line in the novel is a description, whereas in the musical, Mother finishes the thought by saying, "I never stopped to think they might have lives beyond our lives." It shows how her opinion of the situation changes. At first, she can't believe that a woman could do such a thing, but then again, Mother realizes, she has no idea what other women do besides lend themselves to making her life and her family's lives better.

Now, we get the arrival of Sarah. The conversation between Mother and the policemen is almost identical to the one in the book. The only real difference is that we are told that the woman's name is Sarah right off the bat, and there's more concern over the baby.

Once Sarah has been taken care of, Mother stops to think again, this time about herself. She can't believe that she had "carried into the house a sense of misfortune, of chaos," and imagines what her husband would have done if he had been the one to deal with Sarah instead of Mother. But that still leaves Mother wondering, "What kind of woman would that have made me?"

Ragtime: From Page to Stage

"Ragtime" is one of my favorite musicals ever, so when I learned I was going to be reading the novel Ragtime, which the show is based on, I became ecstatic. I love going back to the original, seeing how the playwrights and lyricists incorporated things from the musical's origin into the musical. Like the "Angry Dance" in "Billy Elliot" or placing a Time Dragon above the stage for "Wicked." A couple years ago, when I played Oliver in a CUTC performance of "Oliver," I read Oliver Twist, and compared the novel I was reading to the play I was performing. I think that's exactly what I'm going to do with Ragtime here on this blog. Every time I find a part of the book that I know relates to a corresponding song in "Ragtime," I will post the song and discuss how it is the same, different, or a mixture of both to the book; kind of a comparison. I will be seeing how it is that someone was able to take words on a page and make them sing on a stage. One thing to note in advance about the musical is that time passes differently than in the novel. Events occur at the same time, instead of being years apart. In some cases, time pass in several seconds during a song. In a sense, the musical floats outside of time.

To start with, we have the opening number. Here's a video of part of the opening being performed on the Tony Awards by the original Broadway cast, and yes that is a young Lea Michele playing Tateh's daughter. I will also include a video of the entire song, just so you can get the full effect and you can be introduced into every single character, even some who haven't appeared in the book yet! (I keep reading, waiting for them to appear, anticipating their entrance.)

To begin with, the show starts off the same way the novel does, "In 1902 Father built a house at the crest of the Broadview avenue hill in New Rochelle, New York...and it seemed for some years thereafter that all their days would be warm and fair," only the show has the Little Boy, who is given the name Edgar, introduce us to the world of "Ragtime."

We're then introduced to the, well, "white" chorus; the middle class inhabitants of New Rochelle singing about how easy life is. In the full song, we're introduced to all the specific characters. We have Father speaking about his fireworks factory and how he is "something of an amateur explorer." You'll notice that these descriptions of the characters are less racy than they are in the book. Mother's description of herself is very light, very simple, and Younger Brother hardly mentions Evelyn!

Grandfather just cracks me up. "He was thoroughly irritated by everything."

Throughout the song, we have great allusions to the novel, from taking complete sentences to phrases, such as the mention of "ladies with parasols, fellows with tennis balls," and the line "there were gazebos and there were no Negroes." The actual line from the novel comes later.

And as soon as the Negroes are alluded to, they appear on the stage with a passion and a fire that you don't see in the stiff middle-class people of New Rochelle dressed all in white. Right away, we're introduced to Coalhouse Walker Jr., and to Sarah. Their relationship is much more prominent and explored in the musical. Here's where the line, "There were no Negroes [and] there were no immigrants" comes in, and with it, the immigrants.

Now, what's interesting to note is that Tateh's wife does not appear in the musical at all. Later in the show, Tateh asks his daughter what to tell people if they ask where her mother is. She is to respond, "Dead." In the book, it goes into an explanation concerning what Tateh's wife has to do to survive and make money in America, but the musical never touches on that. She is dead before Tateh and his Little Girl even reach the shores of America.

These following introductions aren't shown in the video from the Tony Awards, however you can see the characters standing around the stage, and I will point them out. Now here comes Houdini! Complete with his own theme, "Harry Houdini, master escapist, master of getting free!" With his appearance, we have an allusion to the moment where Houdini runs into the family, and especially the Little Boy. The Little Boy and Houdini have more of a connected relationship in the musical. After all, it is the Little Boy who tells Houdini to "warn the Duke."

Now the line, "Certain men make a country great. They can't help it," and the reference to the "American pyramid" and how J.P Morgan and Henry Ford were "like Pharoahs reincarnate," makes much more sense to me. It's a very clever nudge at J.P. Morgan and Henry Ford's belief in reincarnation. I had never caught that before. And of course, once you have great men like these introduced, who else could come next but the "radical anarchist Emma Goldman." Her role in the musical is smaller than it is in the novel. From one great woman to the next, we're then introduced to Evelyn Nesbit. Now, Evelyn Nesbit is a very different character in the musical. She's much flightier, much more self-centered. Everything is about her. The whole trial is like a vaudeville show for her. In the musical, she loves it because it gives her publicity. I just see two completely different Evelyns here. But I'll go more into that later, when I post Evelyn's song, "Crime of the Century."

Ok. One of my favorite moments ever. "Her husband the eccentric millionare Harry K. Thaw....WAS A VIOLENT MAN!!!!" Followed by one of my favorite lines in the entire show, that I was happy to see in the novel, "And though the newspapers called the shooting the Crime of the Century, Goldman knew it was only 1906, and there were ninety-four years to go!"

Now, it's at this point in the video of the performance that the three separate groups, the whites, the Negroes, and the immigrants all come together. They're interspersed among one another, dancing and singing to the joyous tune of their time. But you can see, it doesn't last for very long. Once they notice where they are and who they're by, everyone quickly scurries about, trying to get back to their own group. I love the moment at 2:31 in the performance video where Mother, Tateh and his Little Girl, and Coalhouse Walker all meet, with the Little Boy just sitting there watching. You can see how they are all going to end up meeting and interacting, though at the beginning it's a frightening, and almost wrong, notion. Very interesting. As each person is led back to their respective groups, we have an excellent moment in choreography where the groups walk around the stage together as one, glaring at the other two groups, and recoiling when they run into one another. And the Little Boy just sits and watches it, taking it all in. (In some ways, the musical is about how the story of "Ragtime" impacts the Little Boy.) It's really wonderful and very well done. Really sets the scene of how "Ragtime" begins.

At 3:19 in the performance video, you can see J.P. Morgan standing between Evelyn Nesbit and Booker T. Washington, and then at 3:24 you can plainly see Emma Goldman, and I believe she's standing by Henry Ford, but I'm not quite sure. It's interesting to see the physical descriptions come to life. I especially like the way J.P. Morgan and Emma Goldman are costumed. I think it fits both their personalities, characters, and descriptions very well.

This ending is just gorgeous and brilliantly sets up for the rest of the show. I mean, it is a prologue, after all. It is supposed to introduce the show, and I think it does an excellent job of getting across the novel's main points as well right from the start. You have introductions of everybody, the three different groups, the main characters meeting, but not quite interacting, and dramatic and foreboding lyrics like, "It was the music of something beginning, an era exploding, a century spinning! In riches and rags and in rythem and rhyme, the people called it ragtime," set to dramatic music that builds. Now this is an important line to keep in mind, because it will follow us throughout the play, and especially to Coalhouse Walker.

I honestly don't think there could be a better introduction to the show. It's just done so beautifully, and I love seeing all the connections back towards the novel. I mean, what a way to start out. I've had this song running through my head as we've been reading, and especially when I first started the book. I could just hear the Little Boy speaking, "In 1902 Father built a house..." I'm hoping through my blog I'll be able to share with you the music I'm hearing behind the literature, and all the wonderful and interesting things and feelings I learn and feel from it.

This is "Ragtime," from page to stage.