Apocalypse Now v. Heart of Darkness

The most obvious differences between film and book exist in the plot. In the movie, the setting is in the Vietnam War, while the setting of the book is the Congo Free States. The time periods differ, and the contexts differ; the film’s theme centered around war in Vietnam, while the book’s theme centered around colonization. However, these glaring differences matter little. The essential theme of the book persists within the movie, and in both forms of media there remains a sense of battle and of contempt with the native peoples, and a sense of infiltration into a foreign land. Other plot points matter somewhat more, and are intriguing. For example, Kurtz is murdered by the main character in the film. Opposingly, in the book, Kurtz dies of natural causes, watched over by the main character, Marlow. The death of one of the story’s central characters varies. Furthermore, the pieces end differently. The film concludes with the wind murmuring “the horror”, while the book ends with Marlow meeting a woman who loved Kurtz, and he tells her that his last words were her name. This difference has minimal significance simply because the book ends with the main principle—that Kurtz murmured “the horror” upon his death, and that this haunted the main character.

Of course, there are also plot similarities which are striking. The steersman of the boat in both pieces is speared, and dies before the protagonist; afterwards, a character becomes distraught by some minute detail (in the book, it is Marlow, by the blood in his shoes; in the movie, it is Lance, by the loss of the puppy, comparatively minor). There are also heads on the stakes; Kurtz is dying; there is a woman present, idolizing him. These inclusions of elements from the book into the movie emphasize their importance in the story.

Between movie and book, the main character differs. In the book, Marlow travels because he craves adventure, and he becomes disenchanted by what he finds. In the film, the main character journeys because he is forced to by the army, on a predestined mission to terminate Kurtz, unlike Marlow, who believes he is merely going to visit Kurtz. While motivations contrast, the relationship between the main character and Kurtz remains intact. Marlow is undyingly curious about Kurtz, and is drawn to him, while the main character of the film is also drawn, studying papers and history of Kurtz in his spare time. The mystery enveloping Kurtz remains in both stories.

The emphasis on the natives between book and film are somewhat similar. In the book, Marlow witnesses disturbing scenes, such as the Valley of Death, but he does not focus on them. Similarly, the film views scenes which are disturbing—dangling dead bodies, natives shot—but does not focus on them. Rather than the idea, the essence of the horror with the natives is given both in film and in the book.  The book, however, has a more modern view on racism—it seems to decry it more so, fixating more on the death of the natives rather than discussing unlikeable traits of their culture, like Heart of Darkness is prone to do.

Finally, the character of Kurtz is largely similar. Kurtz is powerful, mysterious, reads poetry—yet in the film, he is large and strong, and determines his death, wanting to go like a soldier. In the book, Kurtz steps over the ledge, but it is a ledge of the natural world, not on of murder. His impact is great. Yet, in the movie, the relationship between Kurtz and the protagonist seems to be fostered more. In the book, there is almost no evidence of a developing relationship until after the fact, leaving the reader confused. This, I believe, is a strongsuit of the film that the book failed to deliver. Again, though, both movie and novel capture the main principles surrounding Kurtz and his death, despite minor plot and character differences. 

Poetry Explication: Siren Song

This poem in its entirety is what it claims to be merely about. The speaker claims to be discussing a "siren song", speculating what it is about, and what makes it so "irresistible." The second and third stanzas allude to the legends of Siren’s song, that men would leap overboard to reach the Siren’s despite knowledge of imminent death. Both stanzas are formed in similar manner, beginning with “the song”, with lowercase letters, like an ongoing reminiscence. The tone for the rest of the poem is set here: speculative, wondrous in the mystery, and moreover, grim (“anyone who has heard it is dead” (9).)

The structure and rhythm of the poem are interrupted by the fourth stanza, which begins with a capitalized word “Shall” (10) and if in the form of a question. Here, the intrigue is introduced. Framed by the reflections of the legend in previous stanzas, the curiosity of the reader is provoked. Furthermore, curiosity is spiked when the speaker mentions that they are donning a “bird suit”. The reader is propelled further by wonder and intrigue.

The following two stanzas, encompassing lines 12 to 18, begin to appeal to stereotypical desires of man, to be powerful, heroic, and a rescuer of a damsel in distress. The image of a damsel in distress is constructed by the two identical lines which say “I don’t enjoy it here…”

The following stanza further appeals to men by making them feel “unique”, a rescuer “Help me!”, and special “I will tell the secret to you, to you, only to you.” All appeals are made to the male reader, curiosity and bravado are piqued, and the reader is drawn: what is the siren’s song?

The final stanza reveals that the entire poem is the song of the Siren. It is understood when the speaker says “it works every time” that the reader (male figure) has been drawn into the Siren’s grip, and as revealed by the tonal shift, from intriguing and sensuous to plain and bored, that the reader has perished like the men whose “beached skulls” are a failed reminder to others of the dangers of temptation. 

The Secret Sharer: Character Evolution

The captain (and narrator of the short story) changes in subtle yet noticeable ways over the duration of the short story "The Secret Sharer". In the beginning, he is tentative, a new captain on a ship that he is unfamiliar with, surrounded by crew members who doubt him and are suspicious of his youth. It is revealed that the captain does not give orders to his crew when he mentions upon giving one that it is his first. Some of his first instructions to them are, also, not commanding in nature. He gives them a rest from their duties, something unusual and perhaps more timid an act than a noble one.

The captain is also consumed by the belief that he is insufficient and by the fear of rejection by his crew. He says: "My strangeness, which had made me sleepless" (21), an indication that he is plagued by thoughts of his own newness. In the beginning, the captain overall is therefore timid, weak, and preoccupied.

Following his peculiar relationship and interactions with his "double", the fugitive he has hidden on his ship, the Captain undergoes an interesting change. In the end, he directs his crew in an orderly manner, instructing them to turn the ship towards land despite their doubts and trepidations. He also realizes at this point that he barely knows the ship of which he is the Captain, and resolves within himself to get to know his property as a captain should. He shrugs off his preoccupation with his inadequacy, coming to fulfill the role of a captain with more confidence and conviction.

The reason for this transformation: the captain is introduced to another part of himself when he lets Leggatt onboard his ship. Leggatt is always stoic, calm, and strong, whereas the Captain is nervous and feeble. Leggatt is like the Captain's alter-ego, which intrigues him greatly (he always calls the fugitive his "double" with great affection). After rescuing the man representing his alter-ego, the Captain sees more so in himself the traits that Leggatt embodied, and decided, perhaps, the embody them himself.

The Metamorphosis Analysis: First Two Paragraphs

The first sentence sets the tone for the entirety of the novella with its frankness, dry humor, and strangeness. Suspense is also built within the first sentence and is then relieved with the purpose of the sentence revealed at the end: that Gregor has transformed into an enormous bug. The remainder of the paragraph serves to contribute to the subtle humor of the introduction by describing the uncomfortable, awkward situation in which Gregor finds himself. He is not merely an insect with a shell and legs, but a creature with a brown belly “on top of which the blanket, ready to slip off altogether, was just barely perched” and fruitlessly flickering legs. The imagery provided here is vivid and comical—one pictures an upended bug struggling confusedly, knowing that a man’s thoughts reside within. The description of this passage also emphasizes Gregor’s helplessness. His legs are “pitifully thin” while he is stuck lying on his back.

The brevity of Gregor’s first aloud statement serves as a stark contrast to the breathy syntax and unusual events occurring in the first few sentences. He asks what has happened to him, revealing no semblance of shock as one might expect. This first reveals an essence of Gregor’s character—he is a man who is not excitable in the least, who is measured and mellow. The second paragraph proceeds to describe Gregor’s bedroom, mentioning in detail the swatches strewn on the table and a hung picture but only very briefly and in an off-hand way that he is a traveling salesman. This hints at the monotony or plainness of Gregor’s work without commenting on the nature of it whatsoever. Lastly, in the end of the second paragraph, a picture which Gregor has framed is described. It is a woman in furs, the sole image on the walls—implying both a sexual perversion and idolization which makes the reader suspicious of Gregor’s normalcy. 

"Elegy on a Toy Piano" by Dean Young

By happenstance I stumbled across a poem called “Elegy on Toy Piano” and was superficially drawn first and foremost to the promise in the title of a piano. I am familiar with pianos and find my own poetry within them, and my intrigue was sparked. I read the poem, quickly, and was struck—not by the lack of relevance to what I had anticipated but to the depth and beauty in the simple words, crafted beautifully with powerful imagery. I was also struck upon first glance by the resemblance of the poem to my own style. Like my own, the style of the poem is one of clipped descriptions that weave together gradually to develop an idea. Even the syntax and word choice resonated with me because I was familiar with it in my own linguistic mind.

I find I am most attracted to artworks which dance the line between joyous and dark, major and minor, yellow and blue; this poem appealed to me greatly because it, too, weaved itself along this tantalizing line. In own moment, there is a glimmer of hope, and in the very next, melancholy—yet never joy or despair. “The injured gazelle falls behind the  herd. One last wild enjambment.” In this clipped stanza it is shown most clearly, the dance between good and evil. An injured gazelle falls, presumably to his demise, yet his fall is not tragedy by a “last wild enjambment.”

Lastly, the author tinkers with words in a way to make them appealingly bizarre (which, to me, resembles the style of T.S. Eliot). For example, he says, bluntly and unapologetically, “Your head becomes a peach pit.” I do not yet understand the intricacies or even the more basal meanings of this lovely poem, yet I know from the instant tonal and rhetorical appeal that I will love to find out. 

1984: A Beautiful Conclusion

I thoroughly enjoyed the ending of 1984, albeit it was not what I initially expected. I wrongly expected of Orwell a more generic finish to the overdone storyline. Angry dissenter causes anarchist eruption in face of evil government and overthrows the evil against all odds. Orwell’s conclusion was not at all this. In fact, following a course of logic concurrent with the novel, the end makes more sense. Angry dissenter dreams about inflicting change, yet is conquered brutally by the omnipotent, tyrannical government. As history will often tell us, oppression so powerful as Ingsoc will extinguish opposition. Thus, Winston and Julia are snubbed even before they have a chance to ignite—even before they finish reading Goldstein’s book.

The violent, politically charged ending of the novel apologizes for the monotonous, monochrome storyline up to this point. Throughout the book, Winston has appealed as Hamlet’s foil, acting rashly on decisions which propel him forwards towards wisdom, insight, and rebellion.  However, this never reaches its climax. Instead, we are left with a character more Hamletine in appearance and in impact, a grand disappointment, when Winston is hauled away. In effect, the development of Winston’s promising character is abruptly halted by his incarceration, leaving me with a sort of lingering disappointment. At least we are given a dramatic twist to charge the otherwise lacking plot and set. We are taken from a grey city clouded by Winston’s uncertainties and unelaborated trysts, and we are plunged into a place “of no darkness” where truths are revealed. Through the finale is graphic and grim, the reality of Orwell’s dystopia is revealed in its full, ugly light, and in parallel, we are given a glimpse into the dystopian societies of today.

I am pleased that Winston, at the end of the book, loves Big Brother. Not because of the stunning political commentary framed by Orwell (though indeed it is impressive) but because of the extermination of tension. Throughout the novel there is an undying, repressive tension in Winston’s thoughts, actions, expectations, and from the Party to the proles. Once Winston surrenders, the tension dies and we can breathe a sort of sigh of relief. Yet I wonder, what does this opinion voice about by own tendencies or dispositions? Does it hint that I am a reluctant power, and would rather succumb to the delicious simplicity of surrender? 

"The Book" Blog

"The Book", in my opinion, legitimizes the complaints and assumptions of those opposed to the Party. It causes me to further dislike the Party, much as Winston does, and to see it as a system achieving nothing other than circuitous self-destruction. It is made clear by the book that the wars of the Party are essentially worthless, and that the wars circulate within the society itself, producing a weakened, war-torn population. 

I understand the Party more so now as being a digressive rather than a progressive entity, though to what avail I know not. Technologies have regressed, and the only leaps made have been in technology for the purpose of war. The knowledge of society has decreased; the number of poor has increased; all for a war without a foundation. The Party no longer seems at all like one that propels itself forwards technologically or otherwise, like other futuristic societies are often portrayed as doing. 

What I found interesting that was mentioned in "The Book" was that the distribution of wealth is not quite as disproportionate as I originally assumed. It points out that the members of the Party have only few more possessions than the proles, since it is mere necessities that separate the haves from the have-nots in the society. This is contrary to the societal critique I originally expected from Orwell. I imagined that he would have separated the wealthy from the poor greatly as a commentary about the poor distribution of the wealth. Instead, he seems to be commenting on the poverty of the entire society—still a plausible concern, but not what I would have imagined. 

I was also intrigued by mention of the fighting areas. I wonder whether we will be told more about the floating fortresses. I found it interesting that the fighting happens in the disputed territories only. Since this is the case, do the rocket bombs that frequently fire, killing many proles (yet no Party members) originate from the Party itself? If so, then Orwell is making his commentary on the evil nature of a totalitarian power even more clear.