Well I can't discuss Agee anymore. Love him but let's move on. I am really feeling the Sand County Almanac though. First impressions (before actually opening it)... an almanac really? I always thought almanacs were just dressed-up calendars. Marking off seasons, talking about when to plant your green beans, et cetera. I have to tell you I was blown away. I think the only thing Leopold really got wrong is the title. Probably draws a lot of people away from the book.
Things I really like about the almanac:
1. It's really accessible. The stories are like small anecdotes that can be read separately but fit like a dream when you read them together. (I hate when books don't have chapters... some place to put your bookmark.) A good example of this is the way Leopold weaves Wisconsin's ecological history into the story of the oak struck by lightning. I find history boring at least sixty percent of the time but I basically forgot I was getting the whole run down due to Leopold's masterful dispersal of factual tidbits with meaty prose.
2. I can't decide if it's because we just came off Agee's style or what but I love Leopold's straight-forward-ness. Talk about a guy that knows what I want to read. Killed it. And it's not to say that the writing isn't complex, it is...just more periods, less commas.
3. The chronology. Again... maybe it's Agee. I've had a craving for a point by point timeline ever since stepping on Porch One. I like knowing where I start and (at least some idea/concept) of where I finish.
All in all I dig a Sand County Almanac. I was surprised in a good way.
Sunday, November 1, 2009
Sunday, October 25, 2009
Riddle me this...
There are several aspects of Agee’s novel that I would like to address. First off, it baffles me that Agee makes such an effort to outright defy art, and yet he style of work comes off, in my opinion, as extremely artsy. In my fourteen years of formal education, I have never encountered a book like Let Us Now Praise Famous Men. Not only does he not have chapters or divisions of any form, but the book also starts with photographs. Instead of starting his book with words or a clear-cut message, he begins it in the artistic manner of allowing the reader to first encounter the characters through photographs. If that is not artistic, I do not know what is!
It also confuses me that Agee offers the idea that his readers should just take his work for what it is rather than try to read into it. How can he expect his readers to take such a complex, intricate piece of literature for what it is, without any kind of contemplation, consideration, or contradiction? Honestly, I respect Agee for producing such a bold book and as a historian; I especially admire him for quoting men so controversial as Marx during a time when this certainly was not considered socially acceptable.
Even the most elite literary critics are still unsure of what Agee meant to do with this book, or why he felt the need to structure it the way he did. After reading his book and discussing it in class, I am only sure of one thing: I possess a passionate admiration for Agee in his ability to fully divulge himself in his work. He clearly spent an intense amount of time investigating the lives of his characters and attempting to truly understand their lives. I would argue that his style of work is certainly artistic and that it is nearly impossible to take a piece of work such as this simply at face value, but despite these criticisms, there is no doubt in my mind that Agee has produced a revolutionary piece of literature.
Comparisons between (On the Porch: 1 and (On the Porch: 2
In Agee’s Let Us Now Praise Famous Men he has sections that add as dividers between the different families, which helps to provide some shape to his madness and lack of organization in this non-novel. Even though Agee rarely shares which family he is working with, the hierarchy of poverty within the photographs helps to provide a road map. I am still trying to decide if the porch from the first section and the porch from the second section are the same or different porches.
In (On the Porch: 1, Agee barely gives the reader a visual of the porch. Instead, he describes a room in the house where the family sleeps. In this section, Agee is aware of the five senses. He mentions the visuals that he observes from the house and how “there as no longer any sound of the settling or ticking of any part of the structure of the house” (17). Agee utilizes theses senses to create a sense of peace and openness in comparison to (On the Porch: 2. In this first section he rambles on while not describing the actual porch. However, in the middle of the rambling, the reader is given this passage, “The sky was withdrawn from us with all her strength. Against some scarcely conceivable imprisoning wall this woman held herself away from us and watched us…” (18-19). Agee possibly personifies the sky to provide a sense of confinement, like the sky is a wall closing in on the porch.
In (On the Porch: 2, Agee repeats the line, “We lay on the front porch” (197). This section actually provides an action and provides a concrete image that is missing in the first section. Also, in this section the reader is given a physical description of the actual porch, “A light roof stuck out its tongue above us dark and squarely, sustained at its outward edge by the slippery trunks of four young trees from which the bark had been peeled” “By letting the center of your weight fall far enough on the high side it was possible to effect a compromise by which you had the benefit of a fair amount of the width of the seat and yet were not rolled off it” (197). In these passages, the confinement from the first section is extremely apparent which makes me think that this may be the same porch. However, this section gives more description of the actual porch, which makes me think that the porch is different. Since this section offers more confinement, I feel like it might be in relation to the photographs, following the hierarchy of poverty.
Blog 5-Clothing
In the chapter on clothing, Agee discusses the various clothing ensembles each member of each family wears, in which occasions. The clothing is worn and dirty and ill-covers corporal parts; many of the children don’t even bother with wearing it, unless they are in public. Agee describes the clothing of the Gudgers, Ricketts, and Woods as he describes their lack of plumbing and an efficient way to clean and use the bathroom (remember they use leaves and pine cones as toilet paper). However, the issues the families have with dressing themselves manifest social issues.
This is most apparent with the mothers, who make themselves new clothing only after their families are well-dressed. Paralee is dressed well because she is getting to the age where she must attract a match. The young children are dressed well because material for their costumes is cheaper. Thus the mothers sacrifice--Mrs Woods must go into town with a dress made of this cotton that is cut low so she can nurse in it. The material of the dress is so thin her nipples show through and the men of the town stare at her body less than covertly, consistently. This is her Sunday best. The clothing is portrayed not only as a way to show social stratification but also to show how public the stratification can be. It is not like the lack of plumbing, irritations resulting from lack of wealth that are suffered in private. The clothing is a very public humiliation, one that cannot be avoided.
-Jessica Grabert
The Overalls
“Try—I cannot write it here—to imagine and to know, as against other garments, the difference of their feelings against your body", Agee begins his description of the men of the tenant families' overalls. This quote points to the effectiveness of a description of clothing that, because of it's universal and sensorial nature, goes beyond what the description of the houses does in terms of drawing conclusions about the owner. I most enjoyed Agee’s description of the overalls and, assuming from his lengthy devotion to the description, it appears as if he did as well. Agee describes the overalls in a number of ways: The overalls are described in an almost scientific manner, much like the categorical way in which he describes the rest of the tenant’s clothing. It is obvious that Agee loved the overalls because of the life-like qualities he endows them with. He describes the seams as “those of a living plant of animal” and the garment as an almost independent being that ages, matures and evolves. They are compared to art: not only are they compared to a painting of Cézanne, but they are given architectural qualities that allude not only to the esthetic quality of the overalls, but its functional ability to protect and house the man inside (reminiscent of the description of the shoes in this chapter that we read the first day of class). And, most importantly, the overalls are described as indicators of the lfe and identity of the owner. Agee refers to the overalls as a “blueprint” and “a map of a working man” because of the conclusions we can come to about not only the curves and contours of the owner’s body but the rigor of his work and the state of his poverty. Not only do the overalls illuminate the nature of the lifestyles of the owners, but, they also provide an indication of identity to the families: Agee mentions in this passage that the appearance of a “peasant” is universal both through time and place, however, that overalls are “a garment native to this country” and “are relatively new and local”, therefore, rooting the Gudgers, Woods and Rickets in their place and time in history. Furthermore, the description of the overalls allows us to further deduce Agee’s preference for the Gudgers. George Gudger’s overalls are the only ones mentioned in this description and he is glorified as a worker who “wears in his work on the power of his shoulders a fabric as intricate and fragile, and as deeply in honor of the reigning sun, as the feather mantle of a Toltec prince”.
The Futility of Words
In class we have continually asked why Agee wrote this work is such a convoluted manner. What point was he trying to make and why is he so apposed to seeing this book as a novel or work of art? Agee himself attempts to answer these questions in the section entitled On the Porch: 2. Agee begins this section by describing his sleeping conditions and closely detailing what it felt like to wake up after a long night on a hard pallet. However, he quickly transitions into a long diatribe on art and journalism and how neither can adequately portray the truth.
Agee begins this discussion with the realization that George Gudger is unique. Agee states, “George Gudger is a human being, a man, not like any other human being so much as he is like himself” (Agee 232). Agee notes that he could have created a history for George Gudger that, while completely invented, would have most likely revealed Gudger’s character. This would be art. However, Agee reminds us that Gudger is “exactly, down to the last inch and instant, who, what, where, when and why he is. He is in flesh and blood and breathing” (Agee 233). Because George Gudger is a part of the real, unimagined world, his life cannot be made-up. In order to properly represent him, Agee feels the need to reproduce the Gudgers and all of the tenant families as faithfully as possible through unending detail.
This need for adequate representation leads Agee into yet another discussion on the futility of words. Agee artfully asks the reader to reproduce a street using nothing but words. He notes that while you can describe the “materials, forms, colors, bulks, textures, space relations, shapes of light and shade…all this gathers time and weightiness which the street does not of itself have” (Agee 235). This method of writing appears to mimic the writing in Let Us Now Praise Famous Men. Agee continually berates the reader with unending descriptions that weigh the work down and slows the prose. However, Agee describes this overly detailed writing as naturalistic and states that that is not his intention. Agee ends his rant on words by saying, “I feel sure in advance that any efforts, in what follows, along the lines I have been speaking of, will be failures” (Agee 238). Inevitably, no matter how Agee presents this work, parts of it will resemble art and journalism and posses naturalist ideas. However, by blending these modes of representation and fully addressing the inadequacies each mode posses, Agee allows the readers to question how things are characterized and to ask themselves what is the truth. This overly vigilant way of reading art and literature can then be applied to all representation of the dust bowl and the depression. Through his convoluted writing, Agee stresses the importance of looking past the propaganda and finding what is real.
Modern Preservation and Agee’s Choice of Inclusivity
During our class trip to the Lilly, we discussed the purpose of saving and preserving historical texts, and why they are still valuable today. This was a question I had not really considered before, and just assumed that it was interesting to be able to view an original copy of a popular and/or much loved book—it was simply a sentimental thing. And while this is very much true in many cases, (I have saved many books from my childhood up until the present for the sake of their sentimental value to me), I thought our discussion on this topic was really interesting; that we save books because the actual book and its annotations or marks or ripped pages tells its own story, one that may be completely separate from a “new” copy of the actual piece of literature.
In addition to allowing contemporary readers and viewers to experience the art that may have been a part of the book and the artists who contributed to the work, it provides insight into the way the literature was perceived upon its original publication, and explains what the reader found to be important in the text, and gives details about the life of the reader (who also is, or will be, a historical figure, whether or not he or she is famous).
This mindset of total inclusivity in regard to literature seems very much similar to the way in which Agee viewed his own work. We have discussed in class how at times, the book contains so much detail to the point where his sentences (or entire paragraphs) seem superfluous. A reader would need to spend enormous amounts of time in order to take in everything that Agee tries to project in his writing—in some ways, it just seems to be too much. But on the other hand, Agee felt that if he left anything out, it could have been something that would have been indispensable to one’s understanding of the situation—a detail that while some readers may have simply skimmed over and paid no attention to, others would have taken it as the difference between a work of insignificance and a work documenting the inhumanity of the lives of real people. Just as Agee had to make this choice or what to include in his writing, modern readers and book-collectors must choose what to preserve and save. And while it may seem excessive, it may also make a significant, indispensible difference in a modern understanding of historical literature and the times in which they were written.
In addition to allowing contemporary readers and viewers to experience the art that may have been a part of the book and the artists who contributed to the work, it provides insight into the way the literature was perceived upon its original publication, and explains what the reader found to be important in the text, and gives details about the life of the reader (who also is, or will be, a historical figure, whether or not he or she is famous).
This mindset of total inclusivity in regard to literature seems very much similar to the way in which Agee viewed his own work. We have discussed in class how at times, the book contains so much detail to the point where his sentences (or entire paragraphs) seem superfluous. A reader would need to spend enormous amounts of time in order to take in everything that Agee tries to project in his writing—in some ways, it just seems to be too much. But on the other hand, Agee felt that if he left anything out, it could have been something that would have been indispensable to one’s understanding of the situation—a detail that while some readers may have simply skimmed over and paid no attention to, others would have taken it as the difference between a work of insignificance and a work documenting the inhumanity of the lives of real people. Just as Agee had to make this choice or what to include in his writing, modern readers and book-collectors must choose what to preserve and save. And while it may seem excessive, it may also make a significant, indispensible difference in a modern understanding of historical literature and the times in which they were written.
Cruel writings
James Agee wrote his epic novel, Let us now praise famous me in a style completely different then that of a piece of fiction, poetry, journalism, and even photography. With a mixture of all three styles, Agee is able to discuss and show matters that normally would be almost unapproachable to normal writers. Even with the help of Walker Evans, Agee is using photography to add depth and visual detail to a life style that many have never lived. Agee’s style of writing is what pushes his readers into a convoluted prose and unrelenting details over the most basic and normal pieces of information, such as the description of every room in a house. Even the very clothing that these people wear are spared no detail. Agee almost seems harsh and cruel in his description of the clothes the tenant families wear, as some have been made out of pillow slips or have become so old and dirty, that the clothing is almost nothing but rags.
While many have been pushed away by Agee’s writing style, Agee could not have written this piece in any other way. Agee has lived with these people, he has experienced the very life they live every day, so it comes as no surprise that Agee would write without compassion for his reader. Agee knows that it would be cruel to the tenant family if the reader of his writings would simply look down on the people. Through his harsh writing style the reader begins to understand how serious these families lives are. That these people who live in poverty, who have to struggle to eat every day, that they deserve respect. These families have shown us that even under the most dire of situations one can still stand up with respect for themselves.
While many have been pushed away by Agee’s writing style, Agee could not have written this piece in any other way. Agee has lived with these people, he has experienced the very life they live every day, so it comes as no surprise that Agee would write without compassion for his reader. Agee knows that it would be cruel to the tenant family if the reader of his writings would simply look down on the people. Through his harsh writing style the reader begins to understand how serious these families lives are. That these people who live in poverty, who have to struggle to eat every day, that they deserve respect. These families have shown us that even under the most dire of situations one can still stand up with respect for themselves.
The Paradoxical Meaning of Art in Let us Now Praise Famous Men
Let Us Now Praise Famous Men has been described as a ground-breaking piece of literature, changing the norms of traditional journalism and presenting the real lives of tenant farms in a way which had never been done before. In the book, Agee tells the reader not to regard the book as art, or a novel, but as a representation of real life. He attempts to use words in the novel to convey true meaning, rather than something abstract and unrealistic. However, he often interjects passages of real-life occurrences with pages upon pages of poetic anecdotes. The result is a novel that is truly a work of art, but is only so beautiful because of its attempt not to be so.
When Agee begins to describe the location of the homes in relation to one another, he gives the reader a detailed account of exactly how to get to each home. Even when he describes the households of each family, he does not spare any details. The one thing Agee is truly vague about is the people with which he is living and the happenings of their everyday lives. In his attempt to realistically represent the families, he leaves the reader with passages open to interpretation. For example, when Agee begins to describe George Gudger, he begins a description and then changes his mind, finally stating that he is just a man. Throughout the novel Agee openly admits his inability to do their lives justice, and in the end the reader is left with a book full of poetic passages and imagery rather than anything that can be deemed “real.”
The book is not a documentary that relays the real lives of three tenant families, but a story that can be seen only through the eyes of an artist.
When Agee begins to describe the location of the homes in relation to one another, he gives the reader a detailed account of exactly how to get to each home. Even when he describes the households of each family, he does not spare any details. The one thing Agee is truly vague about is the people with which he is living and the happenings of their everyday lives. In his attempt to realistically represent the families, he leaves the reader with passages open to interpretation. For example, when Agee begins to describe George Gudger, he begins a description and then changes his mind, finally stating that he is just a man. Throughout the novel Agee openly admits his inability to do their lives justice, and in the end the reader is left with a book full of poetic passages and imagery rather than anything that can be deemed “real.”
The book is not a documentary that relays the real lives of three tenant families, but a story that can be seen only through the eyes of an artist.
New York Times article: "Picturing the Depression
In a New York Times' Sunday Book Review, David Oshinky reviews Linda Gordon’s book Dorthea Lange: A Life Beyond Limits – a biography about the photographer who took the iconic “Migrant Mother” (above) and who worked for the Farm Security Administration along with Walker Evans. I found the article interesting, but also relevant to Let Us Now Praise Famous Men. It outlines Lange’s philosophy and approach to photographing her depression-era subjects saying, “[Lange was] an ambivalent radical, deeply sympathetic to the plight of the migrants yet uncomfortable with the chaos that social conflict inevitably produced,” and that made me wonder: is that the same philosophy Evans shared? “Lange stressed the inner emotions of those facing injustice and deprivation.” To compare, I personally don’t think Evans was concerned with expressing the inner emotions of his subjects. His photos of people – which are outnumbered by landscapes – seem to be dominated by blank stares and emotionless faces (that is, the people are neither visibly upset or happy). As Professor Irmscher showed us in class, Evans thoughtfully chose to publish the photo of Flora Merry Lee and Margaret Ricketts where they weren’t smiling for a photo. Instead, Margaret is more stoic towards the camera and her emotions cannot be easily described. In other photos, the emotions of the subjects are just as difficult to pinpoint. The families don’t look visibly happy, but that doesn’t necessarily mean they unhappy. In contrast, “Lange provided an alternative to the photography of wretchedness, which centered on the misery of beaten-down victims, as well as to the Popular Front mythology, which showed earnest, well-muscled men and women laboring together in fields and factories to produce a Soviet-style paradise on earth. Lange saw America as a worthy work in progress, incomplete and capable of better. By portraying her subjects as nobler than their current conditions, she emphasized the strength and optimism of our national character. She became, in Gordon’s words, “America’s pre-eminent photographer of democracy.”” Perhaps Evans took the approach Lange tried to avoid. He focuses on the subjects’ destitute existence - not masking their conditions, or trying to uplift them. His subjects aren’t portrayed as strong “fighters” of the Depression, but instead, people living their life “in this way.” Their wretchedness is at the center of many of his photographs and he does not emphasize strength or optimism. However – while Evans and Lange’s approach to photography differ, his purpose was not to disenfranchise these people. Evans was not looking to sugarcoat or glorify these families through his work, and maybe his photographs are more closely representative of the reality of the situation. I think there is something very powerful in reporting the truth because it puts less emphasis on Evan’s point of view or inherent bias towards purpose, and more weight on the audience’s reaction to the “truth” of his photography.
Agee, Joyce and the Epic Tradition
I briefly mentioned in class the following allusion, but I'd like to expand on it here. Agee uses the quotation "I will go unto the altar of God" as an epigraph for the section entitled "Shelter." He also repeats it, its original context prior to the "Inductions" section. The quotation is from Psalm 43:
"I will go unto the altar of God:
Even unto the God of my joy and gladness, and upon the harp will I give thanks unto thee, O God, my God."
Some more context is in order: at the time of Agee's writing, the Catholic mass was still in Latin. The Roman Order of Mass begins (after the sign of the cross) with a section called the Introit:
"Priest: Introibo ad altare Dei.
Response: Ad Deum qui laetificat juventutem meam."
Which is exactly the translation of the first two lines of Psalm 43 quoted by Agee.
This fact is significant unto itself: Agee's invocation of the Introit colors what he has to say next with a sacred connotation. Whether he is mocking himself here (seeing as he often depicts himself as a profane, even sexual tinted, intruder in the houses) is a different question. Either way, he has cast a religious overtone to the entire section.
I find it equally significant, however, that Joyce chose the same allusion to begin Ulysses:
"Stately, plump Buck Mulligan came from the stairhead, bearing a bowl of lather on which a mirro and a razor lay crossed. A yellow dressinggown, ungirdled, was sustained gently behind him on the mild morning air. He held the bowl aloft and intoned:
--Introibo ad altare Dei."
In Joyce's case, there is no doubt about the irony of this invocation: Buck Mulligan is mocking his "jesuit" roommate Stephan Daedalus. The bowl of lather, for example, is meant as a false chalice. (Aside: Buck's real name is Malachi, a book of the bible which Agee quotes in the section about the Gudger's bible)
An allusion to Joyce is significant for Agee. As Richard Ellmann said, "[Joyce] sensed that the methods available to him in previous literature were insufficient, and he determined to outreach them." This is exactly the feeling Agee expressed in the letter we read at the Lilly about Jazz. He wants to be free of the constraints of writing for Fortune and Time. And Let Us Now Praise Famous Men was his attempt to do that, to subvert the forms of writing he had to write to make money. The bizarre "Intermission" in which Agee responds to the questionnaire of the Partisan Review is an explicit rebellion against the conventional. Agee sees a precedent in Ulysses of throwing the writer's manual out the second story window, and he uses it. Also note the difference between Joyce/Agee and Steinbeck, who for the most part (at least in the narrative chapters) stays with a conventional arc form and third-person omnicient narrator.
Examining the function of the Introit in Ulysses sheds some light on its possible function in Agee. Joyce clearly senses the epic tradition: the structure of his book is based on the Odyssey, and his title explicitly reflects that. One interpretation of the Introit is a (perhaps ironic) parallel to the invocation of the muse at the beginning of epic poetry. We've discussed how Agee's long descriptive style is akin to an epic. Here we see the connection of Agee to the epic tradition manifested in his use of the Introit at the beginning of a section of Let Us Now Praise Famous Men.
Agee's title also evokes the kind of epic sense of singing for "Famous Men," which in the epic tradition are the great warriors remembered. Recall that "glory" in the epic tradition was exactly being remembered. This is a major concern for Achilles in the Iliad, when he is deciding whether or not to return to battle. The worse fate for someone like Achilles is not to die, but to be forgotten. The bard is the keeper of his memory. Likewise, we see throughout Let Us Now Praise Famous Men the burden Agee feels to be authentic to the "Life" of the tenant families, to keep their memory in his book.
Comparison of styles
During class, we often joke about the majority of us not enjoying Agee’s book, and to be honest, I feel that I am one of the majority. That being said, I have found myself questioning many things in the book—not the least of which is Agee’s sanity. What has puzzled me most about the book is the conflict of styles between Walker Evans and James Agee. Before beginning the work, I imagined the two would be working towards a common goal with roughly congruous methods to their craft, but that does not seem to be the case.
As Professor Irmscher’s handout of Evans’s untouched photographs, the family did not appear to be as pitifully unhappy as the ones contained within the work would lead a person to believe. Evans seems content to go against Agee’s words, “’Above all else: in God’s name don’t think of it as Art” (12). By taking the time to stage people and places for his photos, Evans is not trying to be real; he is attempting to create the mood that will satisfy his financial backers. Even within his photos, Evans takes the time to crop them into his vision.
Unlike Evans, Agee tells and experiences everything. As an example of his extreme eye for detail and completeness, reexamine the piece discussed on the blog last week or just randomly select a spot in the text relating to the families and read that. Agee’s method for telling the story of the Dustbowl families seems to center around realism, but at times, this becomes counterproductive. The immense depth of details related by Agee makes finding the important and touching bits nigh impossible. Returning to the scene of the fireplace, I find the detail given by Agee saying that “are in part by memory, in part composited out of other memory, in part improvised, but do not exceed what was there in abundance, variety, or kind” important (176). Agee’s focus on reality seems jaded when these comments are made. On one hand, his credibility becomes flawed because a reader is unclear on what is real, and on the other, a reader trusts him more for acknowledging his flaws.
I don’t really have a preference towards one method when comparing Agee and Evans, but I believe the differences are worth noting when trying to understand the work.
As Professor Irmscher’s handout of Evans’s untouched photographs, the family did not appear to be as pitifully unhappy as the ones contained within the work would lead a person to believe. Evans seems content to go against Agee’s words, “’Above all else: in God’s name don’t think of it as Art” (12). By taking the time to stage people and places for his photos, Evans is not trying to be real; he is attempting to create the mood that will satisfy his financial backers. Even within his photos, Evans takes the time to crop them into his vision.
Unlike Evans, Agee tells and experiences everything. As an example of his extreme eye for detail and completeness, reexamine the piece discussed on the blog last week or just randomly select a spot in the text relating to the families and read that. Agee’s method for telling the story of the Dustbowl families seems to center around realism, but at times, this becomes counterproductive. The immense depth of details related by Agee makes finding the important and touching bits nigh impossible. Returning to the scene of the fireplace, I find the detail given by Agee saying that “are in part by memory, in part composited out of other memory, in part improvised, but do not exceed what was there in abundance, variety, or kind” important (176). Agee’s focus on reality seems jaded when these comments are made. On one hand, his credibility becomes flawed because a reader is unclear on what is real, and on the other, a reader trusts him more for acknowledging his flaws.
I don’t really have a preference towards one method when comparing Agee and Evans, but I believe the differences are worth noting when trying to understand the work.
Blog 5
I have been thinking about the visit to the Lilly and the recent discussions about books that have changed history. My perception though is somewhat different in that many things that have changed the world only apply to a later or future world rather than the one where the book was first released in. Agee is a good example because Let us now Praise famous Men only sold around six hundred copies (guessing from presentation on it) when it was first put out. It is the desire of new gen rations to understand their past which may seem to cloud their desire to form a proper present or future. This can be seen in many pre-modern and modern societies but I'm getting away from the point. While the book was uniquely original and completely honest in its telling, its fame comes from a somewhat superior sense of thought processes added to an old tradition to holding up the over-looked and forgotten (Van Gogh, Poe, Plath, Duffy, etc.). Along with this, Agee also adds to this a history of the times which people will always want as another piece to help them better view the past. It does not matter whether it is a broad or narrow story because either will create discussion and analysis and most likely a special place within the subject matter. And the book did just that as it is considered one of the greatest books of the period, subject matter, and of all time. But by doing this, Agee and the book become a mythical construct and thus can never be looked at from its real point of origin but simply admired from a farther off generation of time. But with book like Agee's, something else has to take place because of it got no attention when it was put out and possibly too much after it was recovered long after, the best thing to do might be to take it just like Agee explains: read it and leave it be. Any thoughts about are fine but be careful and guard against over thinking.
Saturday, October 24, 2009
Agee, or The Ultimate Misunderstood Artist.
Throughout reading and discussing Let Us Now Praise Famous Men, one question has kept me consistently confused: Why is Agee so down on art?
“Above all else: in God’s name don’t think of it as Art” (12). We’ve mentioned this quote many times in class, but I’m still not sure I understand his motives. If he didn’t want us to think of it as art, though, he did a good job of ignoring literary conventions, of confusing his audience, to the extent that I hardly knew how much I was supposed to read each night because the book was so poorly constructed – at least from by brainwashed, traditionalist perspective. But even this outward rebellion against art is, well, artistic.
I wonder if it’s merely a question of semantics. Despite Agee’s demands, I still consider Let Us Now Praise Famous Men to be art. Or Art, as, for some reason, Agee seems to prefer to capitalize it, which just seems to heighten its importance and thus undermine his argument, granting it the same “official acceptance” that “castrates” men such as “Swift, Blake, Beethoven, Christ,” and himself – making a martyr out of it, in a way.
But the disconnect starts to make a little more sense once we get his true feelings: “If I were going to use these lives of yours for ‘Art,’ if I were going to dab at them here, cut them short here, make some trifling improvement over here, in order to make you worthy of The Saturday Review of Literature…” (323). I think we can all agree that this isn’t how we think of art. But I realized I was being a little unfair to Agee, as I then started wondering what my own definition of art is. I even completely sold out and looked up the OED’s opinion, which essentially said that art is anything involving skill. I could get on board with that, but there’s something even more important.
“Art,” Agee writes, “as all of you would understand if you had had my advantages, has nothing to do with Life, or no more to do with it than is thoroughly convenient at a given time” (323-24). This I wholeheartedly disagree with. And I think I’ve come to discover that this is the exact antithesis of what art is to me – art is life, as corny as that sounds; something is made art only by its relation and importance to life. This book does nothing but try to capture life as purely as possible (though, as the above quote demonstrates, not completely without prejudice – but judgment, too, is a part of life), and therefore not only is art but is the epitome of it. You don’t have to necessarily like it or find it pretty, or want to put Evans’ photographs all over your mantlepiece, but it is art. Sorry, Agee.
Friday, October 23, 2009
Books That Have Altered History
While at the Lilly, we entertained the idea of launching a course which would examine books that altered prevailing cultural paradigms, that lead to intellectual revolution, or that influenced lawmakers to take new, bold courses of action.
Crafting our imaginary syllabus, we proposed Upton Sinclair’s The Jungle, Harriet Beecher Stowe’s Uncle Tom’s Cabin, and Rachel Carson’s Silent Spring.
Ever since, I’ve been intrigued by the idea of books altering social consciousness. After abbreviated research, I’ve stumbled across numerous lists of such books. Some choices seem obvious, while others have been surprising.
For example, I hadn’t considered the Book of Mormon as a history-changing piece of literature. However, published in 1830, this book launched the largest U.S.-born religious movement. The book, containing the revelations given to Joseph Smith, has clearly impacted the lives of the nearly 11 million Mormons around the world today. Should it be added to our list?
Other scholars heralded the importance of “Common Sense” by Thomas Paine. This work had crossed my mind at the Lilly, but I dismissed it seeing as I’d always considered it a ‘pamphlet’ – whatever that means. Such an arbitrary distinction in genre seems hardly to warrant its exclusion from our theoretical course. “Common Sense” has formed the foundation of many lines of American political thought and was immensely successful in shifting popular consciousness in favor of Revolution.
The journalist in me requires that I rally on behalf of All the President's Men by Bob Woodward and Carl Bernstein. The brave investigations of these two journalists inspired a generation of young, budding reporters to unashamedly expose corruption and misdeed – even in the highest offices of national politics. In fact, many claim that the work of Woodward and Bernstein has lead to the era of “gotcha” journalism (think of Dateline’s “To Catch A Predator”) that is so popular today. Their influence in undeniable.
Other titles that reoccur list after list include Betty Friedan’s The Feminist Mystique, which launched the modern feminist movement, and The Narrative of the Life of Frederick Douglass, which eloquently spoke to the latent creative talents of African Americans while condemning the institution of slavery.
Here’s our assigned reading. Anyone ready to sign up?
Crafting our imaginary syllabus, we proposed Upton Sinclair’s The Jungle, Harriet Beecher Stowe’s Uncle Tom’s Cabin, and Rachel Carson’s Silent Spring.
Ever since, I’ve been intrigued by the idea of books altering social consciousness. After abbreviated research, I’ve stumbled across numerous lists of such books. Some choices seem obvious, while others have been surprising.
For example, I hadn’t considered the Book of Mormon as a history-changing piece of literature. However, published in 1830, this book launched the largest U.S.-born religious movement. The book, containing the revelations given to Joseph Smith, has clearly impacted the lives of the nearly 11 million Mormons around the world today. Should it be added to our list?
Other scholars heralded the importance of “Common Sense” by Thomas Paine. This work had crossed my mind at the Lilly, but I dismissed it seeing as I’d always considered it a ‘pamphlet’ – whatever that means. Such an arbitrary distinction in genre seems hardly to warrant its exclusion from our theoretical course. “Common Sense” has formed the foundation of many lines of American political thought and was immensely successful in shifting popular consciousness in favor of Revolution.
The journalist in me requires that I rally on behalf of All the President's Men by Bob Woodward and Carl Bernstein. The brave investigations of these two journalists inspired a generation of young, budding reporters to unashamedly expose corruption and misdeed – even in the highest offices of national politics. In fact, many claim that the work of Woodward and Bernstein has lead to the era of “gotcha” journalism (think of Dateline’s “To Catch A Predator”) that is so popular today. Their influence in undeniable.
Other titles that reoccur list after list include Betty Friedan’s The Feminist Mystique, which launched the modern feminist movement, and The Narrative of the Life of Frederick Douglass, which eloquently spoke to the latent creative talents of African Americans while condemning the institution of slavery.
Here’s our assigned reading. Anyone ready to sign up?
Monday, October 19, 2009
The Useless, The Fictional, The Beautiful
As Agee describes the Ricketts’ fireplace, he signals to the relationship between beauty, aestheticism, and utility. For Agee, the most aesthetically appealing items seem to be the ones in which any conceivable usefulness cannot be discerned. Before his long description of the fireplace he states that its rear wall is burst through and that the chimney has collapsed in upon itself (172). Still the family has taken the care to decorate it with pieces of paper. By focusing upon this fact, Agee points to the strange human desire to turn the “useless” into the aesthetic. Beauty, then, becomes not so much about how visually appealing an object is, but instead it is related to how man has worked to attribute meaning (in this case the meaning of beauty) to the otherwise meaningless. This is why, for example, the “partition wall of the Grudger’s front bedroom IS importantly…a great tragic poem” (179).
In a note after the description of this fireplace, Agee tells the reader that in fact the page of text he has provided as a description of the fireplace does not necessarily represent what was actually physically there. Instead the reader is told that this is an approximation that “does not exceed what was there in abundance, variety, or kind” (176). In describing the fireplace, Agee takes aestheticization even further by making the fireplace not only useless but the description, in a sense is essentially fictional, meant to create a feeling in the reader rather than to give a concrete account of reality. Beauty then becomes about the human desire to create something out of nothing, to fictionalize in order that an emotional affect be achieved. This is why the Ricketts’ fireplace is aesthetically pleasing, and why Agee focuses on it in his book. This act of creation parallels not only his own creation, but the creation of man at large.
In a note after the description of this fireplace, Agee tells the reader that in fact the page of text he has provided as a description of the fireplace does not necessarily represent what was actually physically there. Instead the reader is told that this is an approximation that “does not exceed what was there in abundance, variety, or kind” (176). In describing the fireplace, Agee takes aestheticization even further by making the fireplace not only useless but the description, in a sense is essentially fictional, meant to create a feeling in the reader rather than to give a concrete account of reality. Beauty then becomes about the human desire to create something out of nothing, to fictionalize in order that an emotional affect be achieved. This is why the Ricketts’ fireplace is aesthetically pleasing, and why Agee focuses on it in his book. This act of creation parallels not only his own creation, but the creation of man at large.
Sunday, October 18, 2009
Agee's "Privilege of Perception"
Agee’s lengthy description of the Ricket’s fireplace seems to me connected with his interest in art, aesthetics and the “privilege of perception”. He speaks of these ideas in the section following the description of the fireplace. The first relevant point to this description is Agee’s statement that the “esthetic success” of the houses is “more important than their functional failure.” His emphasis on esthetics as opposed to functionality is clear in his description of the fireplace. He devotes one sentence to the actual fireplace and its function and a lengthy description of the images displayed on the mantle. I think what is interesting to Agee about these images is their complete arbitrariness and irrelevance to the Rickett’s lifestyle. The Ricketts, while better off than the Gudgers and the Woods, are impoverished and described by Agee to live in complete filth, a family who does not even purchase soap because “it is foolish to waste money that can be eaten with on soap when any fool knows there is nothing cleaner than water.” Ironically, one of the images above the fireplace is an advertisement for Lysol, thus emphasizing the irrelevance of the images. These images are also arbitrary in their sentimental meaning. These are not photographs or relics of loved ones, as we see in the Woods and Gudger’s homes, but advertisements that represent consumerism, luxury and beauty—none of which apply to the Rickett’s life.
However, the “beauty” of it is contestable, according to Agee. In the notes following the description of the Rickett’s home, Agee speaks about “privilege of perception”, most definitely referring to his own privilege of perceiving the beauty in these homes. The families recognize the ugliness of their surroundings: “Oh I do hate this house so bad,” complains one of the mother’s of the family, lamenting her inability to make it beautiful. However, Agee sees the “unintentional” beauty in the homes, which he attributes to his privilege of seeing what they cannot. Agee explains: “To those who own and create it this ‘beauty’ is, however irrelevant and indiscernible. It is best discernible to those who by economic advantages of training have only a shameful thief’s right to it.” Here we see more of Agee’s guilt regarding his privilege and intrusion into these families’ lives. The images above the Rickett’s fireplace is interesting in connection to this idea because the Ricketts do in fact see a certain beauty in the images, hence their display above the fireplace, however, Agee discerns a different kind of beauty: one of irony, of tragedy (like how he compares the Gudger’s front bedroom to a great tragic poem) and of irrelevance. I think Agee devotes so much time to the description of the fireplace and the images hung above because of his interest in perception, beauty and privilege.
Obligated Decoration
While some have suggested the Ricketts’ fireplace décor is motivated out of a desire to experience unity with the poor at large and others have asserted they adorn their hearth in an effort to escape their defunct position through aesthetic distraction, I find instead that Agee’s language is intended to frame the Ricketts’ decoration as an action birthed from obligation.
Their house demands it.
First, it must be noted that Agee’s description of the Ricketts’ fireplace concludes a longer exposition describing the Ricketts’ house as a whole. Agee is careful to note that their home, unlike the humble dwellings of others in their station of life, was originally made for occuants of the “ordinary lower-middle-class” (170). The house, like the family itself, has a past. And its past design necessitates present action.
The Ricketts’ must beautify. A fireplace cannot go unadorned, just as a front porch made for socializing must be “kept nearly clear of junk” (171).
The pictures, then, are displayed out of obligation to the space. Agee explicitly asserts this as he says the Ricketts have “crusted” their walls with decoration “in obedience” to the demands of the house. Every “broad and handsome” fireplace must be dressed.
But let me be clear: While the act of decorating is one forged from duty, the decorations themselves are reflections of the Ricketts’ current status.
By juxtaposing the demands of an elevated living space with the reality of the Ricketts poverty, Agee is developing an archetype. He is attempting to create an image to describe the many Americans who have experienced such generational loss and shame.
It becomes clear that Agee is crafting a type as one examines the objects he notes above the fireplace – ie. pictures of “fireside coziness of the poor” (175) – as well as the footnote that honestly admits that the description is part “memory” and “In part improvised” (176). The specific details themselves are not nearly as important as the image that is developed, namely, one of economic loss but enduring familial obligation.
Agee is fascinated by the Ricketts' sense of obligation to decorate in spite of their depressed economic circumstances.
Their house demands it.
First, it must be noted that Agee’s description of the Ricketts’ fireplace concludes a longer exposition describing the Ricketts’ house as a whole. Agee is careful to note that their home, unlike the humble dwellings of others in their station of life, was originally made for occuants of the “ordinary lower-middle-class” (170). The house, like the family itself, has a past. And its past design necessitates present action.
The Ricketts’ must beautify. A fireplace cannot go unadorned, just as a front porch made for socializing must be “kept nearly clear of junk” (171).
The pictures, then, are displayed out of obligation to the space. Agee explicitly asserts this as he says the Ricketts have “crusted” their walls with decoration “in obedience” to the demands of the house. Every “broad and handsome” fireplace must be dressed.
But let me be clear: While the act of decorating is one forged from duty, the decorations themselves are reflections of the Ricketts’ current status.
By juxtaposing the demands of an elevated living space with the reality of the Ricketts poverty, Agee is developing an archetype. He is attempting to create an image to describe the many Americans who have experienced such generational loss and shame.
It becomes clear that Agee is crafting a type as one examines the objects he notes above the fireplace – ie. pictures of “fireside coziness of the poor” (175) – as well as the footnote that honestly admits that the description is part “memory” and “In part improvised” (176). The specific details themselves are not nearly as important as the image that is developed, namely, one of economic loss but enduring familial obligation.
Agee is fascinated by the Ricketts' sense of obligation to decorate in spite of their depressed economic circumstances.
Home is a very important part for any ones lives. For the Rickett family their home is one of the few sources of pleasure in their lives. Their hearth is covered with interesting and beautiful pieces of paper, collected from newspapers and magazines. This ties their almost isolated home in with the rest of society. There are people drinking cola and dressing in new and fashionable clothes, all dreams that will never come true to these enduring people. The Ricketts merely tenant their home, sharing parts of their crop with their landlord, but with artifacts like these delicate pictures, it becomes more than just a wooden box to sleep at night, but home.
Culture Presentation...Degradation?
I’d like to talk about the uncomfortable scene in Late Sunday Morning (On the Porch 1) when Agee and Evans witness a mini-performance of “nigger music” (26). It is clear that all parties seem to be uncomfortable with this imposition of cultural exposure, as proposed by the landlords. The music sang by the tenant farmers is described to be unenjoyable by both performers and listeners. It is predictable and as Agee “had expected, not in the mellow and euphonious Fisk Quartette style, but in the style I have heard on records…jagged, tortured, stony, accented as if by hammers and cold chisels…” (26). I found this imagery of tools, particularly the juxtaposition of hammers and chisels to be interesting. Hammers are typically used to build things (though occasionally to tear down) while chisels are almost always used to shape the constructed object. I found these metaphors to be entirely paradoxical to what the music was actually doing to the performers, as well as the audience.
What could the music have been building up or shaping? Perhaps the landlords saw it as an opportunity for the farmers to share their culture—something difficult to do when the farmers live on land that is not their own and are subjected to the culture of their landlord. And in the initial description of the three men who are “summoned” to sing, they are “patiently” waiting. But what about this scene gives a sense of total discomfort and tenseness? The men are “not smiling,” and they stand in a “stiff frieze” waiting to be “noticed and released” (26). The scene is almost reminiscent of cows waiting for the slaughter. Do these men feel degraded from the summoning to sing? At the end of their first song, the men were “abruptly silent; totally wooden; while the landlord smiled coldly” (27). While Agee thinks the last song represents their “favorite and their particular pride,” how much of this pride was gained from their own heritage or culture, and what was degradation based on their assumed difference? In the end, the men go away, “putting their white hats on their heads” as they walk “into the sunlight” (28). The men seem to be numb, but not oblivious, to the affects of the exploitation of the landlord.
The Significance of Existence
In the beginning of And Let Us Now Praise Famous Men, James Agee reminds us of the significance of existence: "In a novel, a house or a person has his meaning, his existence, entirely through the writer. Here, a hosue or a person has only the most limited of his meaning through me: his true meaning is much huger. It is that he exists, in actual being, you do and as I do, and as no character of the imagination can possibly exist. His great weight, mystery, and dignity are in this fact" (9).
While many people read of Hamlet's quest for justice or Holden Caufield's big city adventures, the Ricketts family and their fireplace hold a very important significance for Agee, simply because they exist. Though it may seem obvious and a bit silly to say, "The fireplace existed and Hamlet never did," I think that Agee places a great significance on this simple existence that is frequently overlooked.
I think that James Agee believed that his job was to report that existence, with no "artistry" of his own, and this scene exemplifies that. I believe that Agee chose to include such a detailed description of the fireplace, because of the bitter irony that speaks so loudly in an image of a poor family's fireplace being decorated with pictures and magazine covers depicting consumerist brands and a better life. The way in which he describes these decorations, one after another, meticulous in detail, poetic in language, resembles a tribute to the Ricketts and their fireplace almost, a nostalgic image that he paints for us to look back on, so that we can see for ourselves the items owned by this family that actually existed. Calendars, magazine covers, Coca-Cola advertisements--all of them breadcrumbs of a family gone elsewhere.
While many people read of Hamlet's quest for justice or Holden Caufield's big city adventures, the Ricketts family and their fireplace hold a very important significance for Agee, simply because they exist. Though it may seem obvious and a bit silly to say, "The fireplace existed and Hamlet never did," I think that Agee places a great significance on this simple existence that is frequently overlooked.
I think that James Agee believed that his job was to report that existence, with no "artistry" of his own, and this scene exemplifies that. I believe that Agee chose to include such a detailed description of the fireplace, because of the bitter irony that speaks so loudly in an image of a poor family's fireplace being decorated with pictures and magazine covers depicting consumerist brands and a better life. The way in which he describes these decorations, one after another, meticulous in detail, poetic in language, resembles a tribute to the Ricketts and their fireplace almost, a nostalgic image that he paints for us to look back on, so that we can see for ourselves the items owned by this family that actually existed. Calendars, magazine covers, Coca-Cola advertisements--all of them breadcrumbs of a family gone elsewhere.
Functionality vs. Beauty
The description of the Rickett’s fireplace from Agee’s Let Us Now Praise Famous Men seems at first to be, simply, another passage of the book in which Agee attempts to drown his reader in the details. But when the details are focused on, their implications dwelled upon, it becomes apparent that Agee is doing more with this passage than simply describing the scene to his reader.
The Rickett’s have decorated their mantle, an extremely important focal point for the family (as Agee tells us since it is the only fireplace in any of the families’ houses capable of providing a substantial amount of heat for a room), with calendars and adds that advertise things obviously out of reach for the family. This may be seen as a shrine to the hopes for the future for the family, a collage of their desires, a source of motivation for the family. But what I would like to suggest is the possibility of the purpose of these advertisements being beyond the understanding of the family, that instead this collection of pictures and captions has more to do with beauty than with functionality.
In the following section “Notes” Agee discusses his perception of beauty in the houses of the families. In this section Agee discusses how this sense of beauty was able to arise out of his naivety towards their functional shortcomings- in other words, because the function of the houses was of less importance to him the houses became something more abstract capable of containing a beauty that was not intended by those who created them nor perceived by those that used them. This realization prompted him to ask the question “are things ‘beautiful’ which are not intended as such, but which are created in convergences of chance, need, innocence or ignorance, and for entirely irrelevant purposes?” (p178) He then proceeds to explain to the reader that, at least for him, the answer is yes.
The Rickett’s fireplace then also seems to be dealing with that same question, and provides a similar answer. The advertisements were created not for their beauty but for their functionality to produce more sales. But this purpose is lost on the Ricketts, it may not be that they do not understand the purpose of an advertisement, but rather that it is of less importance to them than the beauty they contain. This mirrors exactly how, for Agee, the function of a house is understood, yet his appreciation for them is not one of practicality but instead of their aesthetic value.
Fireplace for Family
In this rather peculiar book, fully comprehending every reason Agee does something is a bit more difficult than some other works. Examining the piece about the fireplace, I find myself believing the large amount of detail put into the description has a lot to do with picturing a better or more relaxed life. Agee describes many pictures of people in relaxing behaviors ranging from “happy young housewives at resplendent stoves in sunloved kitchens” and old ladies leaning back in rocking chairs” to “young matrons in new play frocks” and “dickensians at Christmas dinner” (175). When one considers the extreme poverty of the time—which brought Agee and Evans to the Ricketts in the first place—it does not seem unlikely a display of hope would draw attention from Agee. Traditionally, the fireplace is the gathering place for a family; a fireplace can give warmth and comfort in the cold of winter. Perhaps, the Ricketts were adorning the fireplace with the many knick-knacks and pictures to create warmth in the face of poverty.
One key note seemed out of place to me in the passage. Agee notes the Ricketts have lived in the area longer than other families, and I wonder if his insertion of the detailed description of the fireplace relates to this fact. As I mentioned above, I believe the adornment of the fireplace is a way to ward off the thoughts of poverty, and perhaps, Agee notes the fireplace as a way of showing even the most rooted family can be in need of hope. In theory, the family who has been in the area the longest should be the one for whom a reading audience would most be able to feel. Assuming Agee understands the audience reading his work, a scene like the fireplace would be an appealing possibility.
The only other part of the passage that sticks out to me is the advertisements words finishing the large paragraph before moving onto other furniture. The advertisements could be a way of allowing readers to relate to the Ricketts. The interest in merchandise would show the readers from cities the farmers Agee is observing are not ages away from urban people socially. This seems the most unlikely to me, but it is a possibility to be noted.
One key note seemed out of place to me in the passage. Agee notes the Ricketts have lived in the area longer than other families, and I wonder if his insertion of the detailed description of the fireplace relates to this fact. As I mentioned above, I believe the adornment of the fireplace is a way to ward off the thoughts of poverty, and perhaps, Agee notes the fireplace as a way of showing even the most rooted family can be in need of hope. In theory, the family who has been in the area the longest should be the one for whom a reading audience would most be able to feel. Assuming Agee understands the audience reading his work, a scene like the fireplace would be an appealing possibility.
The only other part of the passage that sticks out to me is the advertisements words finishing the large paragraph before moving onto other furniture. The advertisements could be a way of allowing readers to relate to the Ricketts. The interest in merchandise would show the readers from cities the farmers Agee is observing are not ages away from urban people socially. This seems the most unlikely to me, but it is a possibility to be noted.
Agee's Judgment
I agree with David about Agee’s perhaps unfair analysis of the Ricketts, especially as concerns their fireplace, where Agee’s true opinion of the family seems to come to a head. His descriptions of the “intricate splendor” drip with sarcasm and judgment (174); and who would describe a sloppily assembled collection of calendars as a “bas-relief” (a sophisticated art term) of “white pulp” (a not very sophisticated medium)? The Ricketts are decidedly unfancy and undeserving of such a portrayal, and Agee’s insistence on describing them and their fireplace in this manner only mocks them.
The list, too, aside from confusing the reader, characterizes the Ricketts as some troop of senseless magpies who collect magazine spreads obsessively and indiscriminately: from images of extravagant meals and wealthy men to those of other poor families, ironically, by a supposedly cozy fireplace. Agee firmly establishes that the Ricketts’ fireplace is less than cozy, given that part of the wall behind it is missing and many of the windows are broken and poorly patched.
There are also phrases that, out of context, make little sense, such as “They Satisfy, Mexico Mexico, The Pause that Refreshes,” and so on (176). But in the footnote Agee reveals a telling fact: “These are in part by memory, in part composited out of other memory, in part improvised, but do not exceed what was there in abundance, variety, or kind.” In other words, everything he has just listed is to be doubted; their mantel may not be as ridiculous as it appears on the page, but it’s hard to get that impression out of your mind once Agee forces it in.
Of course, I could just be projecting my own cynicism on Agee’s writing. After all, he is not against teasing the Gudgers for their “carefully labored and inexpert” mantelpiece, “scarred with matches” and filled with a hodgepodge of cheap items (151-52). It just seems that the Ricketts get a rawer deal, as though life weren’t difficult enough for them. The arrangement of the magazine pages, the only art they can afford, is careful, deliberate; and Agee matches this in his diligence of recording it, only to reveal later that he probably made up half of it. But what does it matter – we get the impression, he says.
Doubled Structure
The section describing the Ricketts' fireplace is about aesthetics. Agee gives the motivation for posting so many "attractive pieces of paper" on the wall by the fireplace as the fact that the Ricketts are "more actively fod of pretty things that the other families are." Agee substantiates his claim that the aesthetics of this house are as important as the rest by giving this section so much weight. While the Grudger house receives 60 pages of the book, Agee condenses the Rickett house to only eight pages. Even though the fireplace section is short, it occupies a full quarter of the description of the Rickett's house.
Agee structures this section similarly to his whole book. He begins with the images: describing in detail all the advertisements, magazine covers, and calendars which adorn the wall. Then he moves to words: the ad copy and captions and names of months. Like presenting the Walker photos first without caption and then the text of the book, Agee has divorced the media. This doubled, microcosmic structure highlights the re-presentational act of aesthetics in general, and Agee's own writing in particular.
Agee is always very concerned about the validity of his enterprise of writing about the tenant farmers, and in particular the danger of his reader aestheticizing Let Us Now Praise Famous Men. On first reading, I suspected Agee of using the doubled structure to comment on his own failure to present an unaestheticized version of the tenant family's condition.
However, in the next section of the book, "Notes," he gives us a treatise on 'Beauty' which celebrates which does not go along with the self-deprecation tack I've begun to expect from Agee. In this section, he insists that we not ignore the beauty of the houses. He even says that this aesthetic is "at least as important a part of the fact as the [economic and human] abomination itself." But then he goes further, saying that this "unintentional" work is no less aesthetic than an intentional work art (implying 'such as this book itself') because in reality the intentional work is not really very intentional. Here he again links his own artistic act with that of the houses, and does not demonize it, but rather argues for its necessity.
Family Rank and Hope
Agee is very careful in Let Us Now Praise Famous Men to describe each tenant family in detail, so they do not merge into one generalization of the tenant farmer life. Before Agee goes into deep explanation of the families' homes, he describes their monetary situation in relation to one another.
The families are essentially ranked by Agee according to how much money they have in profit at the end of the year. The Woods family cleared at best $1300 one year, the Gudgers cleared $125, and the Ricketts have consistently remained in debt. Agee spends a lot of time describing in particular the Ricketts fireplace, and describing carefully the difference between their home and the average tenant farmer.
In his description of the Rickett home, he explains that their home was once inhabited by a small farmer, not a tenant, who likely lost his home in foreclosure from the same people who the Ricketts now work for. The Rickett family is in the worst of conditions financially, and lives in a home whose history could be foreshadowing of their future.
The fireplace is of utmost importance to the Ricketts, since it is the one object that can make a room seem “more or less well-appointed than it actually is” (183). About the Ricketts fireplace are objects which serve no functional purpose, but which provide only aesthetic pleasure. The posters hanging above the mantle-piece are of higher-class people, such as men in suits, and objects which they cannot afford, like roasts and cakes. Compared to the other fireplaces in the Grudge and Woods homes, the Ricketts fireplace is just decoration. The Grudge and Woods family use the fireplace to hold objects like nail files and hair combs. The other fireplaces do still have some relics of attempts to make their homes “pretty”, though their neglect is now apparent. Mrs. Grudge, for example, once attempted to decorate her mantle with lace, but admits to have given up trying to make the house pretty. The Ricketts still maintain some hope in their home, and still attempt to make it more livable for that reason. It is ironic in the sense that they are the family that will most likely not make it much longer without facing foreclosure; it seems as though the only thing they have left is hope.
The families are essentially ranked by Agee according to how much money they have in profit at the end of the year. The Woods family cleared at best $1300 one year, the Gudgers cleared $125, and the Ricketts have consistently remained in debt. Agee spends a lot of time describing in particular the Ricketts fireplace, and describing carefully the difference between their home and the average tenant farmer.
In his description of the Rickett home, he explains that their home was once inhabited by a small farmer, not a tenant, who likely lost his home in foreclosure from the same people who the Ricketts now work for. The Rickett family is in the worst of conditions financially, and lives in a home whose history could be foreshadowing of their future.
The fireplace is of utmost importance to the Ricketts, since it is the one object that can make a room seem “more or less well-appointed than it actually is” (183). About the Ricketts fireplace are objects which serve no functional purpose, but which provide only aesthetic pleasure. The posters hanging above the mantle-piece are of higher-class people, such as men in suits, and objects which they cannot afford, like roasts and cakes. Compared to the other fireplaces in the Grudge and Woods homes, the Ricketts fireplace is just decoration. The Grudge and Woods family use the fireplace to hold objects like nail files and hair combs. The other fireplaces do still have some relics of attempts to make their homes “pretty”, though their neglect is now apparent. Mrs. Grudge, for example, once attempted to decorate her mantle with lace, but admits to have given up trying to make the house pretty. The Ricketts still maintain some hope in their home, and still attempt to make it more livable for that reason. It is ironic in the sense that they are the family that will most likely not make it much longer without facing foreclosure; it seems as though the only thing they have left is hope.
the fireplace: an homage or a burial shrine?
When asked to examine the lengthy description of the Ricketts' fireplace one experiences a sensory overload consistent with the construction of the rest of the novel. This could, like the rest of these kind of instances, be serving to throw the reader off., but I think, in this particular case, Agee is giving us this description to emphasize another point. I noticed that almost every item mentioned are, or involve, photographs of other people doing exciting things, or living better lives. I think the pictures of attractive and delicious foodstuffs are most telling because that connects on a very primal level of necessity and does the most to highlight their deficiencies. The photos are of attractive people, which the Ricketts', plagued by mediocre hygiene and lives of toil, are decidedly not. The people are consuming high end products like Coca Cola and using Lysol disinfectant, which the Ricketts' certainly can not afford.
It is clear that the Ricketts' chose to surround the focal point of their house with images of a life that they will never be able to live, the question now is "why?" There are two options which I believe can explain this phenomena. The first possibility is that they are simply paying homage to that sort of lifestyle and have come to terms with their station in a lower class. This kind of behavior is consistent with people worshipping celebrity not because they are jealous of their success or wish in any way to gain their exact position, but simply because the glamour makes them feel better by proxy. This is the healthiest explanation, because it would suggest a makeshift comfort, which is something that Agee tries to highlight, I feel.
That is, however, not the option which seems most correct here. Upon reading the description and then flipping back to actually look at the picture of said fireplace, it did not most closely resemble a middle school girl's room plastered with celebrity photos, as the description suggests, but instead a burial shrine saturated with the images and symbols of something that is dead. It seems like a dumping ground for the ambition of the young during the transition to the apathy of the old. These pictures are reminders of things that they will never have, they may look on them nostalgically, like one does when looking at a picture of a dead relative, but never hopeful for the resurrection of that person.
Pretty Things on purpose or Beauty by accident
I thought I detected a derisive attitude toward the Ricketts that was absent in the descriptions of the Gudger and Woods houses. Agee's comments in narration, "there is no soap because it is foolish to waste money that can be eaten with on soap when any fool knows there is nothing cleaner than water" and "beyond their faces and hands the people, and their clothing and bedding, and their pans and dishes, and their house, are generally by standards other than their own insanely or completely dirty, or almost beyond possibility of being dirtier, short of a deliberated or cult-like acquisition of dirtiness" - seem sarcastic and condescending, as does his emphasis on the misspelled crayon-on-cardboard sign that reads "Pleas! be quite" (172-3). While there are certainly pathetic moments in his portrayals of the other two houses, those are presented as outside the control of those families. But here, Agee seems to make a point of showing the failures of the Ricketts themselves.
So when I read the section about their fireplace, my first impression was that he was being patronizing by using the childish term "pretty things." Several other people have already pointed out that many of the "pretty things" above the fireplace are advertisements for items like whiskey or fancy clothing that the family would not be able to afford.
The next section in the book compares unintended "chance" beauty with intended beauty or art (178). Here and elsewhere, Agee comes down in favor of unintended beauty (like the way the light strikes the vase in the unused room at the Gudger house). If I am not projecting ideas onto the text and Agee really is critical of the Ricketts, then perhaps it is because he disagrees with their hopeless desires for manufactured, traditional ideas of "pretty things" when the other families have done better with their accidental beauty.
So when I read the section about their fireplace, my first impression was that he was being patronizing by using the childish term "pretty things." Several other people have already pointed out that many of the "pretty things" above the fireplace are advertisements for items like whiskey or fancy clothing that the family would not be able to afford.
The next section in the book compares unintended "chance" beauty with intended beauty or art (178). Here and elsewhere, Agee comes down in favor of unintended beauty (like the way the light strikes the vase in the unused room at the Gudger house). If I am not projecting ideas onto the text and Agee really is critical of the Ricketts, then perhaps it is because he disagrees with their hopeless desires for manufactured, traditional ideas of "pretty things" when the other families have done better with their accidental beauty.
Nostalgia and the Ricketts
I’d like to play with a point Kaelin about the pictures at the Ricketts: “Pictures of people participating in activities that the Ricketts cannot personally identify with were, perhaps, hung in unrequited desire.” I think the pictures extend further in meaning than that. The pictures are reminders, and they are quite possibly there in unrequited desire; however, I think they serve more as nostalgic reminders than anything else. As Agee iterates, the Ricketts, with their nine children and ten dollar a day wages, live in a deplorable state (103). Yet, years before, when the Ricketts parents were relatively healthy and the children fewer in number, the Ricketts were “almost prosperous” (104). They owned ten cows, they lived near a stream, and they owned mules. A string of unfortunate occurrences landed them in their current state. Everything about this state is a nostalgic reminder of past splendor.
I mean, if you look at their house as a whole, it is not the house of a tenant or sharecropper, it is a house that once belonged to a small farmer, a land owner. The fireplace also used to be splendid, “broad and high, and handsome in its Greek panelings” (174). Everything is a reminder of something that was once nice, and is now falling apart. So, as a distraction, the Ricketts paste pretty reminders on their walls, pictures of “Coca-Cola girls” and “great rosy blue-eyed babies sucking their thumbs.” The pictures remind them that they were once nice, that they are now falling apart. But there was a time when they could afford some of the things in the pictures, and I’m sure those times are vivid memories, tasting like yesterday on their tongues. The Woods and the Gudgers were never in a situation where they had any of the things the Ricketts once had, so they can hardly miss them. But the Ricketts, unless they find some sort of prosperity once again, will always remain active admirers (174).
-Jessica Grabert
Saturday, October 17, 2009
The Rickett's fireplace: Beauty is in the eye of the beholder
One can be forever lost in the deep descriptions of Agee's Let Us Now Praise Famous Men; however, my interpretation of this particular passage is rather simple. His analyses of the Woods and Gudgers houses are much more focused on the lack of much beyond the necessities. He depicts the Gudgers house as very minimal, with little to no decorations of any sort, and the furniture is nothing more than practical. His description of their fireplace paints a very plain picture. "All the frame and mantel of the fireplace and the rather dark, blank wall, to a squared-off height of perhaps five and a half feet, and some of the wall beyond the frame, are whitewashed...yet a very cold and fine white, the edges of the work carefully labored and inexpert," (Agee, 151).
The Woods' home is told to have been minimal as well, though a little more decorated than the Gudgers. In their short passage, they are described as having decorations such as an ancestor's sword and scabbard on the wall of one of the bedrooms, a mirror, and smaller knick-knacks, but nothing seemingly very inspired or personal.
What sets the Ricketts apart, I think, is as Kaelin pointed 0ut; there is more personal connection implied with the items listed. A little earlier in the passage, Agee points out that the room with the fireplace is "of no use for living" becaues of its caved-in chimmney (Agee, 172-173), which is interested to find out later that this is the room he describes as being filled with their "pretty things". He lists a number of magazine covers and advertisements the family has set aside, indicating their interest in each of the images. The family is noted for its stinginess, but the family appears to make-do with what they have, and thus the never-ending list of favored images they set aside. As Agee mentions in his notes following the passage, he believes houses such as the aforementioned households "achieve an extraordinary 'beauty'," (Agee, 177) in that the esthetics are normally overlooked by the obvious shortcomings at hand, when in turn, despite the family's short income, a house such as the Ricketts' still sports an eye for what it deems as its own "beauty".
The Woods' home is told to have been minimal as well, though a little more decorated than the Gudgers. In their short passage, they are described as having decorations such as an ancestor's sword and scabbard on the wall of one of the bedrooms, a mirror, and smaller knick-knacks, but nothing seemingly very inspired or personal.
What sets the Ricketts apart, I think, is as Kaelin pointed 0ut; there is more personal connection implied with the items listed. A little earlier in the passage, Agee points out that the room with the fireplace is "of no use for living" becaues of its caved-in chimmney (Agee, 172-173), which is interested to find out later that this is the room he describes as being filled with their "pretty things". He lists a number of magazine covers and advertisements the family has set aside, indicating their interest in each of the images. The family is noted for its stinginess, but the family appears to make-do with what they have, and thus the never-ending list of favored images they set aside. As Agee mentions in his notes following the passage, he believes houses such as the aforementioned households "achieve an extraordinary 'beauty'," (Agee, 177) in that the esthetics are normally overlooked by the obvious shortcomings at hand, when in turn, despite the family's short income, a house such as the Ricketts' still sports an eye for what it deems as its own "beauty".
Friday, October 16, 2009
Blog 4
I for one am trying to understand the endlessly detailed descriptions of the houses of all the families in any way I can. Whether Agee is going between formal and perosnal writing is irrelevant at this point as everything is subject to interpretation. The mood is mythical for whatever part of the book a person is on and can be dissected and analized based on the way Agee wanted the book to be read (which itself is a topic of discussion). The Ricketts' fireplace is open to all ideas of sliding difficulty. It could simply be a collection of random papers picked up by a watchful eye or go so deep into each family member's personsal asperatinos and obviously crushed dreams for different circumstances. The wall contains almost every conceivable image for fantasy and desire while also containing cultural norms (the adds for food, drink, stores, clothes, and others) and several relating to history or religion (the many Christmas Dinners and "incidents in the life of Jesus") thus making it a type of treasure chest shared by the family and grown over time to help them relax when small times like that occur.
But this all again related to what Agee wants reader to see from his eyes. He sets up the scene to his standards of metaphor but leaves us to come up with our own having mentioned at the start that he wishes nothing to be pointed at him. Read it and leave but in that brief message is another and another leading to infinite possiblities which (I say this word strongly) may be Agee's goal, fulfilling his desire for something I will not try to understand. And by doing this, he draws everyone who reads it in whether they like it or not (the book, not him).
But this all again related to what Agee wants reader to see from his eyes. He sets up the scene to his standards of metaphor but leaves us to come up with our own having mentioned at the start that he wishes nothing to be pointed at him. Read it and leave but in that brief message is another and another leading to infinite possiblities which (I say this word strongly) may be Agee's goal, fulfilling his desire for something I will not try to understand. And by doing this, he draws everyone who reads it in whether they like it or not (the book, not him).
Sunday, September 27, 2009
No offense to Thomas Hart Benton...
While I was thinking of different aspects of The Grapes of Wrath, I looked through different photos from the Great Depression, especially those of Dorethea Lange. These photos not only provide us with historical information, but also give a face to citizens in the 1930s. Looking at these images gave me a better mental image of Joads and the people that they meet along their way. Of course, the film gives a general image of these people, but I liked being able to let the characters develop in my mind.
I vaguely remember watching the film of The Grapes of Wrath in my high school American History class after discussing the novel. I feel like the portrayals of the characters were accurate to Steinbeck’s writing, especially the portrayal of grandpa and Tom. While I think that the film is somewhat accurate, I feel like the images of this time convey the message of the text better. For instance, take the photo “Migrant Mother” by Dorothea Lange:
http://americahurrah.com/PhotoShow/migrantmother.jpg
In my opinion, this brings more emotion than can be conveyed in a two hour film. The emotion on the mother’s face truly shows how difficult this time period was for everyone. She looks horrified of the unknown. The children cling to her in desperation. The absence of the children’s faces makes this even more moving.
Nothing against Thomas Hart Benton’s illustrated version of The Grapes of Wrath, but I think that a version with photos from different photographers of the Great Depression would have been compelling. It may not display characters as well, but I feel like it would give a piece of history, both written and captured in photos, so that the Great Depression is kept alive in future education. I’m sure with careful searching of archives, it wouldn’t be difficult to personify the characters throughout these different photos.
-Allison McDermid
Control
Control is a theme seen through out the entire novel. It affects the development of every character in different ways. Through out the novel the Joads lose every constant that they have held onto during their lives. The characters deal with this issue very differently, especially the two main female roles. There is a stark contrast between the way the two characters approach this life change.
Rose of Sharon handles the changes in her life the worst, in my opinion. She refuses to acknowledge major events during the move. When the family sees the dog dead on the road, all she can think about is her self and her baby. This is the first example of random tragedies in the novel, and Rose of Sharon chooses to focus on a part of her life she still has control over, rather than accept this random sad occurance. Also when Connie leaves her, she still holds onto the belief that she will be taken care of and provided for. The whole time they are at camp, she does not take the time to insure her family’s safety. She goes off and meets other men rather than look for work, again exerting the only kind of control she has. She does not seem in denial, just completely way too immature to handle the seriousness of her current situation.
Ma Joad made an astonishing transition into her new life. When we first meet Ma in the beginning of the novel, she is a very stereotypical mother. She is cooking and overjoyed that her son is home. However during the trip, we see her fighting to keep her family together on several occasions. She has always been in charge of the family and keeping it fed and nourished with love. While it appears that Ma is stepping into a male role in the family, I believe she is just holding onto the one aspect of her life she can control; her family. We see this when she doesn’t let the family split up in the cars, the scene with the jack handle, and when Grandma dies. She holds the family together and keeps a level head. She knows that family is the only thing they have left, and she so fights hard to keep it together. Ma just strengthened her role in the family and holds control over the only thing the characters have left.
Rose of Sharon handles the changes in her life the worst, in my opinion. She refuses to acknowledge major events during the move. When the family sees the dog dead on the road, all she can think about is her self and her baby. This is the first example of random tragedies in the novel, and Rose of Sharon chooses to focus on a part of her life she still has control over, rather than accept this random sad occurance. Also when Connie leaves her, she still holds onto the belief that she will be taken care of and provided for. The whole time they are at camp, she does not take the time to insure her family’s safety. She goes off and meets other men rather than look for work, again exerting the only kind of control she has. She does not seem in denial, just completely way too immature to handle the seriousness of her current situation.
Ma Joad made an astonishing transition into her new life. When we first meet Ma in the beginning of the novel, she is a very stereotypical mother. She is cooking and overjoyed that her son is home. However during the trip, we see her fighting to keep her family together on several occasions. She has always been in charge of the family and keeping it fed and nourished with love. While it appears that Ma is stepping into a male role in the family, I believe she is just holding onto the one aspect of her life she can control; her family. We see this when she doesn’t let the family split up in the cars, the scene with the jack handle, and when Grandma dies. She holds the family together and keeps a level head. She knows that family is the only thing they have left, and she so fights hard to keep it together. Ma just strengthened her role in the family and holds control over the only thing the characters have left.
Religion in Grapes of Wrath
"I like your Christ, I do not like your Christians. Your Christians are so unlike your Christ."
~ Mahatma Ghandi
In The Grapes of Wrath, John Steinbeck presents and criticizes various forms of religion and ritual, and in an ironic twist, turns the most outwardly secular character, Jim Casy into a Christ-figure.
Along their journey, and even within the confines of their own family, the Joads encounter various manifestations and degrees of religious worship. Grandma Joad represents a sort of compulsory ritual-worship without introspection. Early on in the novel Tom Joad explains to Casy an incident in which Grandma sent him a Christmas card when he was still in prison. The card is meant for a child and contains a religious poem and pretty decorations. “I guess Granma never read it. Prob’ly got it from a drummer an’ picked out the one with the mos’ shiny stuff on it. The guys in my cell block goddamn near died laughin’…Granma never meant it funny; she jus’ figgered it was so purty she wouldn’ bother to read it.” (35) This incident parallels Grandma Joad’s further displays of religion. She focuses on the ritual of religion, insisting on grace at the dinner table and saying ‘Amen’ after anything the ex-preacher Casy says, regardless of its lack of resemblance to any normal grace. “So many years she had times her responses to the pauses. And it was so many years since she had listened to or wondered at the words used.” (110)
Sairy Wilson uses religion for the feeling of closeness and humanity that it provides for her. One her deathbed she implores Casy to say a prayer for her, despite his claims that “I got no God.” (298) Sairy tells him “I wanted to feel that clostness, oncet more. It’s the same thing, singin’ an’ prayin’, jus’ the same thing.” (298)
Possibly the most striking criticism of religion comes in the form of Lisbeth Sandry in the Weedpatch government camp. She is a ferociously God-fearing woman who attempts to spread her fear among the rest of the members of the camp. It is not good enough for her if the Joads are religious, they must have the same zest and fear that she does. She fights with the manager, who has a Casy-like view of things: “He don’ believe in sin. Tol’ me hisself. Says the sin is bein’ hungry. Says the sin is bein’ cold.” (423) The manager has an accepting view of Lisbeth, saying “She’s a good woman, but she makes people unhappy.” Through the manager, Steinbeck is commenting on the paradox of religious worship like that of Lisbeth Sandry’s. She has good intentions, and seems to genuinely believe that she is helping people, but ultimately she only causes them hurt and suffering, like when she causes Rosasharn unnecessary stress with her lectures. Through her attempts at helping, she is only causing harm. It is also very telling that, while she considers the government camp the paragon of sin, she is clearly comfortable and doesn’t leave.
The most ironic and striking religious commentary comes in the form of the ex-preacher, Jim Casy. Casy outwardly claims to have no God. He resents his preaching career and refuses to pray unless outright begged to do so. He doesn’t believe in sin, but when he was a preacher and did believe in it, he engaged in sin quite often. Despite his outwardly agnostic tendencies, Jim Casy shares far more with the biblical figure of Jesus Christ than just his initials. Casy travels with people to learn from them and talk to them. He even experiences his own sacrifice and resurrection. Casy represents the clear distinction between claiming Christian-ness and actually being Christ-like.
Futility in "Grapes"
When our class discussed the concluding chapters from Grapes of Wrath, we hit on Ma Joad and her need to stay with her recently deceased mother’s body. I made a few notes that I would like to reassess in this third entry. One possible theme of this text is futility and Ma Joad’s staying with her mother exemplifies this. The method behind her madness was to sustain the morale of the family long enough to get to one of the checkpoints. She convinced her family that Gramma Joad had merely fallen asleep and that she was doing “okay.” This was not the case obviously, but Ma’s ploy to keep her family’s spirits up was a temporary success.
There is also very evident irony here as during Ma’s temporary covert behavior, she and the rest of the family see various families heading back. These other “Okies” had been forced to head back to their already abandoned homes to eke out a living that was apparently better than California. Imagine the sense of futility in having to return home and being, sometimes, forcefully evicted and then having to resort to returning from a place promised to have better circumstances. Despite this harsh reality, Ma Joad endures for the sake of her family.
The novel wraps up with a man needing aid from the Joads who have survived their endeavors. Meeting the small boy and the scene in which his father is suckled by Rose of Sharon is the epitome of futility in a sense. In the same sense, it is reassuring because despite the fact that the Dust Bowl has nearly ruined their lives, the family is reminded that they still have their bodies to sustain them. The man gave up his own nourishment so that his son could live and Ma, in a somewhat similar manner, put Rose of Sharon in an odd predicament by giving up her daughter so that she could save the man in the barn.
Another possible theme that this last scene provides is that of no man or woman being beyond the aid of another human being. Throughout Steinbeck’s piece, gender roles are reversed and male dignity is put aside. A man being nursed back to health is quite epitomal, not the proper adjective form of the word I realize, of gender reversal of that time and no one being beyond aid even further. The people did what they had to survive and animalistic and maternal/ paternal traits, from Ma and Rose of Sharon, surface in such dire times.
There is also very evident irony here as during Ma’s temporary covert behavior, she and the rest of the family see various families heading back. These other “Okies” had been forced to head back to their already abandoned homes to eke out a living that was apparently better than California. Imagine the sense of futility in having to return home and being, sometimes, forcefully evicted and then having to resort to returning from a place promised to have better circumstances. Despite this harsh reality, Ma Joad endures for the sake of her family.
The novel wraps up with a man needing aid from the Joads who have survived their endeavors. Meeting the small boy and the scene in which his father is suckled by Rose of Sharon is the epitome of futility in a sense. In the same sense, it is reassuring because despite the fact that the Dust Bowl has nearly ruined their lives, the family is reminded that they still have their bodies to sustain them. The man gave up his own nourishment so that his son could live and Ma, in a somewhat similar manner, put Rose of Sharon in an odd predicament by giving up her daughter so that she could save the man in the barn.
Another possible theme that this last scene provides is that of no man or woman being beyond the aid of another human being. Throughout Steinbeck’s piece, gender roles are reversed and male dignity is put aside. A man being nursed back to health is quite epitomal, not the proper adjective form of the word I realize, of gender reversal of that time and no one being beyond aid even further. The people did what they had to survive and animalistic and maternal/ paternal traits, from Ma and Rose of Sharon, surface in such dire times.
Rosasharn and Selfishness
Let’s face it: Rosasharn, as interesting as her name may be, is one of the least consequential yet most annoying characters in The Grapes of Wrath. In a way she’s a foil for Ma, that strong, almost paternal presence whose morality sometimes surpasses even Tom’s. Rosasharn is subdued, uncertain, and entirely dependent, providing fodder for the novel’s occasional but potent sexism. In short, she’s every stereotype I hate to see projected onto my gender.
Her greatest crime, however, is that she is unabashedly selfish. Everything she does (which isn’t much) is either in her best interest or in the best interest of her child – but only because having “a freak” (393) would reflect poorly on her, arguably.
She constantly whines about needing milk, and even though Winfield also needs milk, she eyes it jealously until Ma sneaks a small cup of it to her. Worse still, she blames Tom (and, earlier, the deaths of both Grandpa and the dog) for ruining her child, seeing as she herself never sinned, and “didn’ dance no hug-dance” (394). (Remarkably, she never seems willing to hate on Connie, the only character who ever did anything directly to her or her child: abandonment and neglect.) But she admits this not only in a holier-than-thou sense, bragging about her morality, but rather with regret. As her child is already screwed up, she might as well have had some fun at the government camp.
I might be acting a little unfairly toward Rosarsharn, of course. In a sense, she was proven right in the end – her child was stillborn. Whether this was a result of all the sin and depravity she witnessed (as she would like to believe), or merely the malnutrition and poor living conditions they experienced, or the stress and emotional damage from losing Connie and other family members, or just fate itself, Steinbeck never reveals. He leaves things complicated.
But regardless of what caused her child’s death, the fact remains that it changed her in a way that none of their previous troubles could. Everyone else grows over the course of the novel, but it’s not until the very end that Rosasharn finally gets over herself and sheds her selfishness entirely, giving her milk to a total stranger. It’s all she has left to give. As the book implies throughout and states directly multiple times, the poor are the most charitable. And while Rosasharn was always poor, it's not until she has experienced one of life's greatest losses that she takes on this maxim. Her charity in the final pages matches the tragedy of her loss.
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