Sunday, October 25, 2015

Questions of Intentions

After a few negative reviews of center alignment, I'm trying justified. 

Something I grapple with often in making moral judgement on various situations is intentions (I think I might have blogged about it last semester, too). Should someone's actions be understood in the context of their internal feelings, or is one's external impact on the world the only thing that matters? Or something in between?

In day-to-day life, our ability to understand other people's thoughts is extremely limited. Because of this limitation, in the "real world," we are urged from a young age to try and "see things from others' point of view" and "understand where they're coming from" and that "it's the thought that counts." To be a nice person is to consider others' motivations and internal workings.

But in literature, we typically have the privilege of an intimate understanding of the gears grinding in one or more character's heads. In The Stranger, we are buried deeply inside Meursalt's conciousness -- or lack thereof. And we find that motivations are quite important when we dissect the actions of a character.

Handily, Meusalt really is only motivated by one thing, indifference (which one could argue isn't a motivation at all, but whatever). We see all of his actions through the lens of his indifference. A good example is the letter to Raymond's girlfriend. Ordinarily, if we as outside observers were to watch somebody help Raymond "punish" a supposedly cheating girlfriend, perpetrating an action that ultimately leads to the woman in question being beaten, we would react horribly. But are we inclined to let Mersault slightly off the hook because we know that he wasn't fully behind the principle of hurting her, he was just going with the flow?

Or similarly, the shooting. The way in which it is written makes the murder -- athough the question was raised in class, can it be called "murder" without intent? -- seem much less dramatic than it would be to an outsider. Does his apathy cast a shadow of a doubt on whether or not he perpetrated the crime. I'm inclined to say "no," but the trial scenes disagree with me. Not on the issue of the actual act of killing -- as we've mentioned, the prosecutor doesn't really bother to focus on that --, but it criticizes Mersault for some of the outward manifestations of his indifferent attitude. 

It seems that Camus is highlighting the importance of motivation. However, at the same time, he's also painting a picture of the impossibility of neutrality (with Mersault getting pulled into Raymond's side of the conflict), suggesting that, ultimately, it doesn't matter how you felt, it only matters what you do. A bit of a disjointed post, but hopefully the clean look of the justified font will ease the distressing lack of flow. 

Wednesday, October 14, 2015

Kafka's Modern Man

I'm experimenting with center alignment, in my obviously exhaustive efforts to make the experience of reading my blog more aesthetically pleasing; to create a coupling of beauty with genius. 

One of my favorite passages from part II was the one in which Grete wants to move the furniture out of Gregor's room, and Gregor hear's his mother's protests, on page 89:

"(...) Gregor realized that the lack of any direct human address during the course of these two months, coupled with the monotonous life within his family, must have confused his mind; otherwise he was at a loss to explain how he could seriously have wanted to have his room cleared out. (...) Not a thing should be removed; everything must stay; the good effects of the furniture on his condition he could not do without; and if the furniture should hinder him in his senseless crawling expeditions that was no drawback, it was a great advantage."

 -- A small note before proceeding: Observe the tragic irony of his mother's pleas to keep his room as he would have wanted, when later on, his room becomes a filthy storage room for anything the family or renters do not want to see anymore. --

I definitely read this as Gregor further conforming to his parents' will. It's almost like even as an insect, he doesn't have an identity beyond what his family wants him to be. I also think Gregor's family are somewhat to blame for his more bug-like inclinations (although I don't necessarily blame them for treating him like, well, a bug, and not understanding that he is their son/brother).

A common thread throughout this novel is that Gregor has been shaped by his family's perceptions of him. We see him trying to break away from their grip, for instance, with the snide comment about their secret savings, but by and large, he believes what his family believes, including what they believe about him. So, it makes sense that, as his family comes to see him as a bug, Gregor comes to see himself as a bug, and thus act like one. It's sort of a self-fulfilling prophecy.

Kafka's modern "man," Gregor, is completely defined by his relationships. He has no identity of his own, painting a depressing picture of what it means to be human in the modern age.