In Charlotte Perkins Gilman’s “The Yellow Wallpaper,” the narrator finds herself in a sort of obsessive paranoia over the pattern on the walls of her summer house. The narrator, plagued by a “nervous depression—a slight hysterical tendency” (9), is unable to understand the reality of her situation. She believes that the pattern on the walls is solely for her purpose, and she dedicates her days to interpreting it. While I was reading the story, I began to draw parallels. The narrator’s obsession with the wall is similar to her obsession with her sickness—she is constantly affected by both.
I believe that part of the reason the narrator is so intrigued by the moldy wallpaper is that when she sees it, she sees part of herself. The wallpaper “has a kind of subpattern in a different shade, a particularly irritating one, for you can only see it in certain lights, and not clearly then” (76). This “subpattern” is similar to her personality. John, her overbearing husband, does not seem to understand what his wife is going though. He simply suggests that she rests and remains useless. But of course, any somewhat sane person is not capable of “resting” all day. So she takes to a new hobby—interpreting what is on the wall.
Because she feels so misunderstood, the narrator turns to something that can not judge her. Her ideas of what the wallpaper is saying can never be wrong. Furthermore, the wallpaper will never let her down because no matter what, it is always there. The narrator’s loneliness and sense of being misunderstood is remedied by her faithful yellow wallpaper.
Another parallel between the mesmerizing wall and the narrator’s anxiety is that she is frustrated by both, yet she cannot seem to forget either. She makes it clear that she is becoming exceedingly interested in the pattern when she says, “On a pattern like this, by daylight, there is a lack of sequence, a defiance of law, that is a constant irritant to the normal mind. The color is hideous enough, and unreliable enough, and infuriating enough, but the pattern is tormenting” (141-2). This “tormenting” pattern is similar to her disease. She continually blames her oddities on the fact that she is “sick” (8). No matter how hard she may try, both her disease and the wallpaper will continue to haunt her.
The narrator’s interest in the wall is far deeper than anyone else’s interest because she alone engages in the practice of solving its mysteries. When her husband and her husband’s sister observe the wall, she is a bit angry, “I have watched John when he did not know I was looking, and come into the room suddenly on the most innocent excuses, and I’ve caught him several times looking at the paper!”(159). The narrator feels a special bond with the wallpaper because she alone has studied it in such depth. She is the only one that can see the woman behind the pattern, thus making her the only person so deeply affected by the wallpaper’s ordinary features. She even deems herself most knowledgeable of its secrets, “There are things in the wallpaper that nobody knows about but me, or ever will” (118).
The narrator’s initial bewilderment and frustration towards the wallpaper takes a dramatic turn as time goes on. After having stared at the wallpaper for many an hour, she gains a comfort from it. She even keeps her obsession a secret from John, “John is so pleased to see me improve! He laughed a little the other day, and said I seemed to be flourishing in spit of my wallpaper. I turned it off with a laugh. I had no intention of telling him it was because of the wallpaper”(164-5).
The narrator’s final destruction of the yellow wallpaper occurs when she sees the woman “creeping up and down” (196). She can no longer handle the consistently haunting wallpaper, so in attempts to protect herself from the scary woman, she rips apart the walls. The narrator’s destruction of the walls is in essence her break way from her obsession and her disease. She is finally able to look at both things no longer as constraints, but as passages to freedom (704).
Friday, September 28, 2007
Wednesday, September 19, 2007
The Shortcomings of a Good Disposition
After reading “Revelation” by Flannery O’Connor, I felt slightly sick. It is one of few stories in which I felt no attachment to any character. The story also has an incomplete ending, leaving the reader to decide whether Mrs. Turpin truly experiences a “revelation” or not. Although the story is full of vivid details and interesting descriptions, the part of the story that affected me most was the author’s candor regarding Mrs. Turpin’s thoughts.
Mrs. Turpin, being the phony that she is, always speaks in a patronizing manner. The way she analyzes people and makes judgments is a reflection of her insecurities. When she says, “I wish I could reduce” (14), it is a clear indication that she is not comfortable with the way she looks. She then says that though she wishes she could lose weight, the most important thing is to have a “good disposition” (17). If she indeed believes having a “good disposition” is of utmost importance, why is it that she has such hideous thoughts?
The fact of the matter is that Mrs. Turpin simply thinks she is better than everyone else. She repeatedly thinks that if Jesus were to offer her someone else’s place, she would not take it. She even says that, “If it’s one thing I am… it’s grateful” (101). Because she is friendly and open to all conversation, Mrs. Turpin believes herself to be the most agreeable person alive. One of the things that bothered me most about Mrs. Turpin is that while she is carrying on conversation with all the people in the waiting room, she is analyzing their flaws and expressing her thankfulness for not having been bestowed with those deficiencies.
Not only is Mrs. Turpin condescending to the people in the waiting room, she also acts the same way around people she is familiar with. Right when the story starts, we see that Mrs. Turpin has a dominating disposition when she shoves her husband into the doctor’s office, “Claud was florid and bald and sturdy, somewhat shorter than Mrs. Turpin, but he sat down as if he were accustomed to doing what she told him to” (2). She acts the same way towards her black servants. Though they are kind to her and want to defend her in any way possible, she is annoyed by them. Because she believes their words to be “Negro flattery” (163), she becomes frustrated by their lack of honesty. If Mrs. Turpin is so peeved by fake appraisal, then why does she indulge in the act ever so frequently?
As the story goes on, we see that not only is Mrs. Turpin arrogant, she is also ignorant. She has absolutely no idea why Mary Grace is giving her such hateful looks—and for that matter, why anyone would give her such hateful looks. She is also surprised when Mary Grace says, “Go back to hell where you came from, you old wart hog” (113). Mrs. Turpin is well aware that she had negative thoughts towards the Mary Grace and her “white trash” mother; however, she fails to understand why the girl would be so affected by those thoughts.
Although not directly related to Mrs. Turpin’s inner-most feelings, I found it interesting that Mrs. Turpin was at the farm, alone, trying to sort out her thoughts. She has taken Mary Grace’s message so deep to hear that she is asking for answers as though she expects God to intervene. Early in the story, it is clear what an important role God plays in Mrs. Turpin’s life, “‘Thank you, Jesus, for making everything the way it is!’” (101). She looks at Mary Grace’s message as a warning that her oh-so-perfect disposition is not so perfect after all. Although she does not express remorse for the way she is, Mrs. Turpin’s seriousness regarding the bitter insult shows that she realizes there is something wrong with her. It was somewhat surprising to me that a woman as self-righteous as Mrs. Turpin would respond so intensely to an insult. However, just as the reader realizes the importance of Mary Grace’s statement, Mrs. Turpin as well sees that what happened at the doctor’s office was unordinary.
Mrs. Turpin’s frustration in the end of the story shows her trying to discover her shortcomings, and perhaps even making a change. Though Mrs. Turpin is not a likeable character, she was indeed inspired to do some soul-searching after her experience in the waiting room (741).
Mrs. Turpin, being the phony that she is, always speaks in a patronizing manner. The way she analyzes people and makes judgments is a reflection of her insecurities. When she says, “I wish I could reduce” (14), it is a clear indication that she is not comfortable with the way she looks. She then says that though she wishes she could lose weight, the most important thing is to have a “good disposition” (17). If she indeed believes having a “good disposition” is of utmost importance, why is it that she has such hideous thoughts?
The fact of the matter is that Mrs. Turpin simply thinks she is better than everyone else. She repeatedly thinks that if Jesus were to offer her someone else’s place, she would not take it. She even says that, “If it’s one thing I am… it’s grateful” (101). Because she is friendly and open to all conversation, Mrs. Turpin believes herself to be the most agreeable person alive. One of the things that bothered me most about Mrs. Turpin is that while she is carrying on conversation with all the people in the waiting room, she is analyzing their flaws and expressing her thankfulness for not having been bestowed with those deficiencies.
Not only is Mrs. Turpin condescending to the people in the waiting room, she also acts the same way around people she is familiar with. Right when the story starts, we see that Mrs. Turpin has a dominating disposition when she shoves her husband into the doctor’s office, “Claud was florid and bald and sturdy, somewhat shorter than Mrs. Turpin, but he sat down as if he were accustomed to doing what she told him to” (2). She acts the same way towards her black servants. Though they are kind to her and want to defend her in any way possible, she is annoyed by them. Because she believes their words to be “Negro flattery” (163), she becomes frustrated by their lack of honesty. If Mrs. Turpin is so peeved by fake appraisal, then why does she indulge in the act ever so frequently?
As the story goes on, we see that not only is Mrs. Turpin arrogant, she is also ignorant. She has absolutely no idea why Mary Grace is giving her such hateful looks—and for that matter, why anyone would give her such hateful looks. She is also surprised when Mary Grace says, “Go back to hell where you came from, you old wart hog” (113). Mrs. Turpin is well aware that she had negative thoughts towards the Mary Grace and her “white trash” mother; however, she fails to understand why the girl would be so affected by those thoughts.
Although not directly related to Mrs. Turpin’s inner-most feelings, I found it interesting that Mrs. Turpin was at the farm, alone, trying to sort out her thoughts. She has taken Mary Grace’s message so deep to hear that she is asking for answers as though she expects God to intervene. Early in the story, it is clear what an important role God plays in Mrs. Turpin’s life, “‘Thank you, Jesus, for making everything the way it is!’” (101). She looks at Mary Grace’s message as a warning that her oh-so-perfect disposition is not so perfect after all. Although she does not express remorse for the way she is, Mrs. Turpin’s seriousness regarding the bitter insult shows that she realizes there is something wrong with her. It was somewhat surprising to me that a woman as self-righteous as Mrs. Turpin would respond so intensely to an insult. However, just as the reader realizes the importance of Mary Grace’s statement, Mrs. Turpin as well sees that what happened at the doctor’s office was unordinary.
Mrs. Turpin’s frustration in the end of the story shows her trying to discover her shortcomings, and perhaps even making a change. Though Mrs. Turpin is not a likeable character, she was indeed inspired to do some soul-searching after her experience in the waiting room (741).
Monday, September 10, 2007
Mama's Simple Life
The thing that first caught my attention while reading “Everyday Use,” was the story’s narration by Mama. Through Mama’s eyes, the reader forms distinctions between the life Mama and Maggie lead, versus the life Dee makes for herself. Because “Everyday Use” is told in the first person, all we know about Mama’s two daughters is what she tells us. Directly after reading the short story, I felt a sense of sympathy. However, this feeling of commiseration was not directed towards the narrator or Maggie; rather, I found myself pitying Dee. Dee, the narrator’s self-righteous daughter, looks at her humble roots as something she is completely disconnected from.
The only perspective the reader gets of Dee is that of her mother’s. When Dee arrives, she is described by Mama as having an almost overwhelming appearance. Her bright clothing and gaudy jewelry are things that Mama and Maggie will never be accustomed to (20). The thing that I liked most about the description of Dee is that it is full of subtle messages. Mama never comes out and says exactly how she feels; rather, she simply observes the behavior of her daughter, giving the reader a play-by-play of Dee’s visit.
Although Mama never calls Dee an outsider, she says certain things to inform the reader that Dee—or Wangero as she now prefers—leads a radically different life and displays a sort of arrogance towards her old one. Mama conveys Dee’s embarrassment of her family’s humble abode when she says, “She wrote me once that no matter where we ‘choose’ to live, she will manage to come see us. But she will never bring her friends” (14). It is almost as if every aspect of Dee that is described is loaded with ways to expose her condescending nature.
If indeed Mama makes all these descriptions with her own hidden messages, why does the reader believe her? After all, when telling a story in the first person, it is impossible for the narrator to have no bias whatsoever. But we do not have this problem with Mama. In the beginning of the story, when she is describing her simple small-town life, we develop a sense of trust with Mama. Mama tells it like it is. At first, when the reader is unfamiliar with Mama and her lifestyle, she expresses her far-fetched dream-life. She dreams to be on television, to have a dramatic reunion with her daughter, and to shake the hand of Johnny Carson. But before Mama lets the reader get carried away with this fantasy, she stops herself, “In real life I am a large, big-boned woman with rough, man-working hands. In winter I wear flannel nightgowns to bed and overalls during the day. I can kill and clean a hog as mercilessly as a man” (5). Mama’s non-idealized description of herself puts the reader in her confidence. Furthermore, after explaining her dream, she even goes as far to say that it is completely implausible.
While I was reading the story, I found myself becoming increasingly affectionate towards Mama’s warm character, regardless of the fact that she does not lead a perfect life. She cares immensely for both of her daughters, and even tries to comply with Dee’s wishes. With the exception of the quilts, Mama agrees to give Dee the other trinkets she picks up while at the house. She even tries to call Dee by her new preferred name, despite the fact that she cannot pronounce it. However, the thing that made me like Mama the most was when she refused to give up Grandma Dee’s quilts. Whether it was because Mama thought Dee would have no true appreciation for the quilts, or because she simply did not want to part with them, her action was brave. For once, the submissive Maggie was able to have her way.
The story ends with Dee, once again, leaving her old life behind. She even tells her mother that she and Maggie, too, can create new identities for themselves, “‘You ought to try to make something of yourself, too, Maggie. It’s really a new day for us. But the way you and Mama still live you’d never know it” (80). Instead of being hurt by Dee’s statement, Mama and Maggie disregard what she has said, and they enjoy every moment they spend with each other (722).
The only perspective the reader gets of Dee is that of her mother’s. When Dee arrives, she is described by Mama as having an almost overwhelming appearance. Her bright clothing and gaudy jewelry are things that Mama and Maggie will never be accustomed to (20). The thing that I liked most about the description of Dee is that it is full of subtle messages. Mama never comes out and says exactly how she feels; rather, she simply observes the behavior of her daughter, giving the reader a play-by-play of Dee’s visit.
Although Mama never calls Dee an outsider, she says certain things to inform the reader that Dee—or Wangero as she now prefers—leads a radically different life and displays a sort of arrogance towards her old one. Mama conveys Dee’s embarrassment of her family’s humble abode when she says, “She wrote me once that no matter where we ‘choose’ to live, she will manage to come see us. But she will never bring her friends” (14). It is almost as if every aspect of Dee that is described is loaded with ways to expose her condescending nature.
If indeed Mama makes all these descriptions with her own hidden messages, why does the reader believe her? After all, when telling a story in the first person, it is impossible for the narrator to have no bias whatsoever. But we do not have this problem with Mama. In the beginning of the story, when she is describing her simple small-town life, we develop a sense of trust with Mama. Mama tells it like it is. At first, when the reader is unfamiliar with Mama and her lifestyle, she expresses her far-fetched dream-life. She dreams to be on television, to have a dramatic reunion with her daughter, and to shake the hand of Johnny Carson. But before Mama lets the reader get carried away with this fantasy, she stops herself, “In real life I am a large, big-boned woman with rough, man-working hands. In winter I wear flannel nightgowns to bed and overalls during the day. I can kill and clean a hog as mercilessly as a man” (5). Mama’s non-idealized description of herself puts the reader in her confidence. Furthermore, after explaining her dream, she even goes as far to say that it is completely implausible.
While I was reading the story, I found myself becoming increasingly affectionate towards Mama’s warm character, regardless of the fact that she does not lead a perfect life. She cares immensely for both of her daughters, and even tries to comply with Dee’s wishes. With the exception of the quilts, Mama agrees to give Dee the other trinkets she picks up while at the house. She even tries to call Dee by her new preferred name, despite the fact that she cannot pronounce it. However, the thing that made me like Mama the most was when she refused to give up Grandma Dee’s quilts. Whether it was because Mama thought Dee would have no true appreciation for the quilts, or because she simply did not want to part with them, her action was brave. For once, the submissive Maggie was able to have her way.
The story ends with Dee, once again, leaving her old life behind. She even tells her mother that she and Maggie, too, can create new identities for themselves, “‘You ought to try to make something of yourself, too, Maggie. It’s really a new day for us. But the way you and Mama still live you’d never know it” (80). Instead of being hurt by Dee’s statement, Mama and Maggie disregard what she has said, and they enjoy every moment they spend with each other (722).
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