“Siren Song”
This is the one song everyone
would like to learn: the song
that is irresistible:
the song that forces men
to leap overboard in squadrons
even though they see beached skulls
the song nobody knows
because anyone who had heard it
is dead, and the others can’t remember.
Shall I tell you the secret
and if I do, will you get me
out of this bird suit?
I don’t enjoy it here
squatting on this island
looking picturesque and mythical
with these two feathery maniacs,
I don’t enjoy singing
this trio, fatal and valuable.
I will tell the secret to you,
to you, only to you.
Come closer. This song
is a cry for help: Help me!
Only you, only you can,
you are unique
at last. Alas
it is a boring song
but it works every time.
In both “Siren Song” and A Handmaid’s Tale, Atwood explores the coded nature of language. In the poem’s context, the song of the Sirens is the poem itself—one would think that a Siren’s song would be overwhelmingly seductive, but in fact, it is merely a ploy to get the reader (or listener) to pity this estranged Siren, the Siren that doesn’t want to be a Siren anymore, or so she says; in fact, she is really just manipulating the reader with her words by saying that the readers themselves are the only ones who can save her from her misery. It is all a trick. The language is entirely deceitful until the very end when the poem closes with “it is a boring song but it works every time.” In A Handmaid’s Tale, Offred and the other oppressed women have to imply alternative meanings to words in order to conceal their support of the rebellion. When they say things to each other like, “it’s a lovely May day,” what they really mean is, “m’aidez” which means “help me” in French. Underneath that decoding is another decoding—“m’aidez” or “May day” are used in veiled conversation to gently ask the person listening if they believe in the spirit of the rebellion. When Offred finds a Latin phrase carved in her closet, she sees it as an embodiment of quiet rebellion, much like her own. The meaning of the phrase itself is not important—it is the fact that something is written down where it shouldn’t be by someone it probably shouldn’t have been written down by. It is interesting that the phrase “help me” comes up in both pieces, as their meanings are similar: in the poem, “help me!” is a lie; a trick. It is coded in the sense that the reader believes that in order to help, they must get the Siren off the island. Instead, the Siren means “help me!” in terms of herself—“help me” by buying into my song so I can kill you, essentially.
Looking at the second stanza in “Siren Song,” I’ve found significant meaning in relation to A Handmaid’s Tale:
the song that forces men
to leap overboard in squadrons
even though they see beached skulls
Offred, and all of the other oppressed women, are literally forced to live under the totalitarian regime of Gilead, even though they can see how wrong it is and how much it puts their lives and welfare in danger. Like the Siren song, the women of Gilead do not have a choice. When the song, or the Gilead rule, is put before them, they can’t escape. This may be why Offred was so passive and inactive in terms of making any efforts to escape—any attempt was more likely than not, entirely futile.
the song nobody knows
because anyone who had heard it
is dead, and the others can’t remember.
In this context, the “song” is freedom. Anyone from the pre-Gilead world that knew what freedom felt like has either died or were brainwashed to forget what freedom was. Offred had a lot of trouble remembering pieces of her past that happened only a few years before she was put under Gilead rule.
The main difference between the two texts by Atwood is that in the poem, the women have all of the power. They manipulate and lie to the men, make them feel important—“ Help me! Only you, only you can, you are unique”—much like the position of power that men have in Gilead: the women are manipulated and lied to, are told that they are, or really that their bodies are, a crucial component of Gilead and that playing their part in it is necessary.
Friday, December 11, 2009
Friday, November 27, 2009
Slave and Master: Hegel and Kindred
Through Hegel's lens, once humans figure out what's around them, they start to assert themselves in the world. 2 year olds, typically called "the terrible two's" go through this series of events in their mind: I used to not know stuff. Now I know stuff. I know that glass shatters. Now I am going to shatter glass because I know how to manipulate glass in my world. Dana goes through this series of events in their mind: I used to know stuff--I used to know that I am free. Now, after weird time travel, I know that I am not. (She is thrust into an unknown world and has to start to learn about her environment just as a two year old has to learn about theirs.) Through time and observation, Dana now knows the ins and outs of slavery, and thus, knows how to assert herself through the obstacles she faces: she can manipulate her world (how to escape, how to trick, how to perservere) and can use her power of observation to get, or try to get, the result she wants.
In terms of power, Hegel has an interesting theory: that a master isn't a master without a slave. The master is dependent on the slave to guarantee his power--but really, his power is manifested in his appearance: he bustles around looking tough, playing the expected role of the master, but is really not doing anything--his power is just a show, because he already has power. He doesn't need to do anything to get it. The slave however, due to her forced observation (to get out of an unfavorable situation) has to do something to escape and get power. A perfect example in Kindred that shows this weird power difference is when Dana teaches the slave children how to read. The slave children genuinely want to learn how to read because it will help them escape their terrible lives. Rufus and the rest of the Weylan's don't read well because their safety doesn't depend on it--they are already free, white, slave owners. What good would reading do them? The slaves have an unhappiness that actually leads somewhere, while the masters have an unhappiness that leads nowhere because their unhappiness stems from their feigned power. The real power is in the slaves themselves.
In the novel, Dana is from the 1970's where she lives life without slavery, sees real progress from the slave era, and experiences the dreams that the slaves worked so hard to achieve but never got to really see the result of. In the slave era, the slaves had a sense of what ends their means would yield, but were never able to truly realize their results. Dana has the unique experience of living in the time where the results come to fruition, and goes back in time to see the changes and tiny progressions that led to the effect manifested in the 1970's. This is typical Hegel: his formula is that, when thinking of yourself, the self is split in two: the self that is thinking, and the self that is being thought about. Once the thinking self realizes that, then the self that is being thought about becomes the thinking self. Then the thinking self splits again into the thinking self and the self that is being thought. It goes on like that infinitely, like how you cannot attain the results of the dreams an era has--that the time has to realize itself and move on. But the slave era cannot realize itself as the slave era because they don't think that there is anything wrong with their time or the practices being done in it.
In terms of power, Hegel has an interesting theory: that a master isn't a master without a slave. The master is dependent on the slave to guarantee his power--but really, his power is manifested in his appearance: he bustles around looking tough, playing the expected role of the master, but is really not doing anything--his power is just a show, because he already has power. He doesn't need to do anything to get it. The slave however, due to her forced observation (to get out of an unfavorable situation) has to do something to escape and get power. A perfect example in Kindred that shows this weird power difference is when Dana teaches the slave children how to read. The slave children genuinely want to learn how to read because it will help them escape their terrible lives. Rufus and the rest of the Weylan's don't read well because their safety doesn't depend on it--they are already free, white, slave owners. What good would reading do them? The slaves have an unhappiness that actually leads somewhere, while the masters have an unhappiness that leads nowhere because their unhappiness stems from their feigned power. The real power is in the slaves themselves.
In the novel, Dana is from the 1970's where she lives life without slavery, sees real progress from the slave era, and experiences the dreams that the slaves worked so hard to achieve but never got to really see the result of. In the slave era, the slaves had a sense of what ends their means would yield, but were never able to truly realize their results. Dana has the unique experience of living in the time where the results come to fruition, and goes back in time to see the changes and tiny progressions that led to the effect manifested in the 1970's. This is typical Hegel: his formula is that, when thinking of yourself, the self is split in two: the self that is thinking, and the self that is being thought about. Once the thinking self realizes that, then the self that is being thought about becomes the thinking self. Then the thinking self splits again into the thinking self and the self that is being thought. It goes on like that infinitely, like how you cannot attain the results of the dreams an era has--that the time has to realize itself and move on. But the slave era cannot realize itself as the slave era because they don't think that there is anything wrong with their time or the practices being done in it.
Timequake by Kurt Vonnegut
Vonnegut explores the myth of free will in his novel, Timequake, where in Februrary 2001, there is a rift in time, sending everyone and everything back to February 1991. This look at time travel is very different from what we have experienced in the novels that we read for class in that when they go back in time in Timequake, they are not given the opportunity to change their history: what has already happened will happen again, making everyone relive terrible choices, accidents, and so on. This is Vonnegut at his best; he makes a claim in this novel that free will doesn't exist--that everything must happen as it has already happened; you can't change it now, so how could you think you could change it then?
When the rerun in time finally stops once time has caught up to Februrary 2001, Vonnegut makes the claim that "the hiccuping Universe, not humanity, was responsible for any and all fatalities." (110) When skimmed over, this sentence goes against what Vonnegut's message is: it appears to say that humans with free will cause fatalities. However, when read more carefully, it is clear that it is not FREE WILL but HUMANITY that causes fatalities and other atrocious things in the world--humanity that has no free will; humanity that can't help but do the things it does, as it is in the nature of humanity itself that acts in that way--"When free will kicked in, I simply kept on trying to get the soup off me before it could seep all the way through to my underwear. Trout said, quite correctly, that my actions had been reflexes, and not sufficiently creative to be considered acts of free will. 'If you'd been thinking,' [Trout] said, 'you would have unzipped your pants and dropped them around your ankles, since they were already soaked with soup.' "(112)
Vonnegut stresses that his novel, Timequake, is really called Timequake 2, because the first Timequake was finished in the timeperiod of the rerun. After the rerun had stopped and "free will" was restored, Vonnegut went back to his novel and added in personal quips and anecdotes. The book that is in stores, and the book that has always been in stores since it was published, is Timequake 2, harkening back to Vonnegut's idea that free will is a sham--that Timequake was never Timequake at all until it was revisited after the rerun. It was predestined that the book would be the anecdote version. Timequake 1 never existed. That sounds stupid, and I can't really explain what I mean in written word, but trust that it at least makes sense to me in my head. Maybe if anyone is interested enough I can explain it more clearly in person.
When the rerun in time finally stops once time has caught up to Februrary 2001, Vonnegut makes the claim that "the hiccuping Universe, not humanity, was responsible for any and all fatalities." (110) When skimmed over, this sentence goes against what Vonnegut's message is: it appears to say that humans with free will cause fatalities. However, when read more carefully, it is clear that it is not FREE WILL but HUMANITY that causes fatalities and other atrocious things in the world--humanity that has no free will; humanity that can't help but do the things it does, as it is in the nature of humanity itself that acts in that way--"When free will kicked in, I simply kept on trying to get the soup off me before it could seep all the way through to my underwear. Trout said, quite correctly, that my actions had been reflexes, and not sufficiently creative to be considered acts of free will. 'If you'd been thinking,' [Trout] said, 'you would have unzipped your pants and dropped them around your ankles, since they were already soaked with soup.' "(112)
Vonnegut stresses that his novel, Timequake, is really called Timequake 2, because the first Timequake was finished in the timeperiod of the rerun. After the rerun had stopped and "free will" was restored, Vonnegut went back to his novel and added in personal quips and anecdotes. The book that is in stores, and the book that has always been in stores since it was published, is Timequake 2, harkening back to Vonnegut's idea that free will is a sham--that Timequake was never Timequake at all until it was revisited after the rerun. It was predestined that the book would be the anecdote version. Timequake 1 never existed. That sounds stupid, and I can't really explain what I mean in written word, but trust that it at least makes sense to me in my head. Maybe if anyone is interested enough I can explain it more clearly in person.
Thursday, November 19, 2009
Alice and Dana
Alice and Dana are an experiment in time: The same "substance" is placed in two different time periods and produce as many similarities as there are differences between them. Dana and Alice both come into slavery after being free, Rufus obsesses, controls, and loves both of them, they look the same, and they both stubbornly try to protect their dignity. However, Dana and Alice grew up and lived in separate times which obviously shaped them both as people. The fundamental things are the same between them, but the environments that they were exposed to affected and changed those "default" characteristics. Dana and Alice are the same, but the circumstances of the times gave Dana literacy and basic freedoms that the 1970's allowed, while Alice was forced into illiteracy and violent denial of her human freedoms by her time period. The novel suggests that if Dana lived in Alice's time, she would be almost identical to Alice and if Alice lived when Dana did, then she would be almost identical to Dana.
When Dana finds herself thrown into Alice's time, the similarities between them are present, but minimal. As time goes by when Dana is in the past, she begins to let go of her 1970's self and starts to adapt to her environment, becoming more and more like Alice. They both have some form of control over Rufus, while he still has a more overbearing control over them. Their approaches to his mastery is different, but not by much. Alice gives in to Rufus' demands to preserve herself and her family from being sold, beaten, or otherwise abused. Dana gives in to Rufus' demands to preserve herself and her family, because without Rufus, both she and her family would not exist.
An interesting section to read to develop this idea further can be found on pages 156-157:
In this excerpt, Alice has been beaten to the point of short-term amnesia. Dana had been cleaning her wounds and taking care of her while she was hurt, so she was there when Alice woke up. The part of this excerpt that resonates most is when Alice asks Dana, "What's it like to be a slave?" and Dana's response is, "I don't know. I wonder how Carrie is doing--in all that pain and not even able to scream." Alice replies, "How could you not know what it's like to be a slave. You are one."
What Alice, and some readers, don't recognize is that Dana answers Alice's question: that she is in all that pain and not even able to scream.
Back to my original point though, this dialogue could have been switched so that Dana was asking Alice what it's like to be a slave. The interchangeability of the two is alarming. That's all I've got developed so far. I'll revisit this blog later. :)
When Dana finds herself thrown into Alice's time, the similarities between them are present, but minimal. As time goes by when Dana is in the past, she begins to let go of her 1970's self and starts to adapt to her environment, becoming more and more like Alice. They both have some form of control over Rufus, while he still has a more overbearing control over them. Their approaches to his mastery is different, but not by much. Alice gives in to Rufus' demands to preserve herself and her family from being sold, beaten, or otherwise abused. Dana gives in to Rufus' demands to preserve herself and her family, because without Rufus, both she and her family would not exist.
An interesting section to read to develop this idea further can be found on pages 156-157:
In this excerpt, Alice has been beaten to the point of short-term amnesia. Dana had been cleaning her wounds and taking care of her while she was hurt, so she was there when Alice woke up. The part of this excerpt that resonates most is when Alice asks Dana, "What's it like to be a slave?" and Dana's response is, "I don't know. I wonder how Carrie is doing--in all that pain and not even able to scream." Alice replies, "How could you not know what it's like to be a slave. You are one."
What Alice, and some readers, don't recognize is that Dana answers Alice's question: that she is in all that pain and not even able to scream.
Back to my original point though, this dialogue could have been switched so that Dana was asking Alice what it's like to be a slave. The interchangeability of the two is alarming. That's all I've got developed so far. I'll revisit this blog later. :)
Tuesday, October 13, 2009
Edward Bellamy: A Brief Biography
PREFACE: After you're done reading, be sure to read the post I wrote right before this one. It's funny.
On March 26th, 1850, in Chicopee, Massachusetts, Edward Bellamy was born to Rufus King Bellamy, a Baptist minister, and Calvinist Maria Louisa Bellamy (maiden name Putnam). Of their other children, Frederick and Charles Bellamy were Edward’s older brothers. He was an un-graduated, law-studying frat boy at Union College who left law to pursue work in the business of newspapers in both New York and Massachusetts, which, like his college career, did not last long. After leaving the newspaper world, he entered the literary one, writing novels and short stories. At the age of 32, he got married and had two children, Paul and Marion, with wife Emma Augusta Sanderson. He died in Chicopee, Massachusetts from tuberculosis at the age of 48, and although this is not a very long time at all for a person to live, Bellamy achieved tremendous success and had an even greater impact on the world in which he lived. He was not only successful in his literary endeavors, but he was traveled, practiced law, and had at least attended some school. Bellamy’s idea of a utopia was “based on common ownership of resources and a benevolently managerial government” to take the place of “the tense, competitive free-for-all he had known during the Gilded Age.” (Meyer, W. B., The Geographical Review v. 94 no. 1 (January 2004) p. 43-54) Bellamy died while in the midst of a losing battle to change the world and cater it to the ideals that his novel embodied. However, many socialists and those that would soon be labeled as socialists, took Looking Backward: 2000-1887 to heart; there were some small utopian societies that began and were based on the structure of the society in Bellamy’s novel.
One of the utopian societies that was formed based on the structure of Bellamy’s socialistic society in his novel, is the Equality Colony near Edison, Washington, founded by Wallace Lermond, E. G. Pelton, and twelve others in 1897. Lermond said, "The people must be aroused from their present lethargy, indifference, and despondency. The country must be stirred from center to circumference. And the quickest and best way to do this is by colonizing a state such as Kas. was colonized prior to the Civil War. The example thus set would be contagious, and neighboring states would not be slow to follow the same road" (LaWarne). In practice, the colony of about 200 people (and growing) took to their trades and built necessary schoolhouses and warehouses. And although their hope was to convert America to socialism, the other ideals and philosophies of how to run their lives differed when it came to alcohol, smoking, religion, amongst other things. Eventually ran low on money and was taken over by anarchist Alexander Horr, so it really didn’t work out that well at all. My research tells me that those ideas were better left in the novel.
Bellamy’s works include his novel that gave him the most fame and propelled many novelists within a year of its publishing to write in the similar ilk of utopian societies, Looking Backward: 2000-1887, and his other less-known works such as the sequel to Looking Backward: 2000-1887, Equality, amongst others like Dr. Heidenhoff's Process, Miss Ludington's Sister, and The Duke of Stockbridge. Equality did not yield the same popularity in American culture as Looking Backward had, but an excerpt from it entitled “The Parable of the Water-Tank” had some ground with American socialists who reprinted it in propaganda pamphlets.
Sources:
http://www.answers.com/topic/utopian-communities
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Edward_Bellamy
Meyer, W. B., The Geographical Review v. 94 no. 1 (January 2004) p. 43-54
http://www.historylink.org/index.cfm?DisplayPage=output.cfm&file_id=5444
On March 26th, 1850, in Chicopee, Massachusetts, Edward Bellamy was born to Rufus King Bellamy, a Baptist minister, and Calvinist Maria Louisa Bellamy (maiden name Putnam). Of their other children, Frederick and Charles Bellamy were Edward’s older brothers. He was an un-graduated, law-studying frat boy at Union College who left law to pursue work in the business of newspapers in both New York and Massachusetts, which, like his college career, did not last long. After leaving the newspaper world, he entered the literary one, writing novels and short stories. At the age of 32, he got married and had two children, Paul and Marion, with wife Emma Augusta Sanderson. He died in Chicopee, Massachusetts from tuberculosis at the age of 48, and although this is not a very long time at all for a person to live, Bellamy achieved tremendous success and had an even greater impact on the world in which he lived. He was not only successful in his literary endeavors, but he was traveled, practiced law, and had at least attended some school. Bellamy’s idea of a utopia was “based on common ownership of resources and a benevolently managerial government” to take the place of “the tense, competitive free-for-all he had known during the Gilded Age.” (Meyer, W. B., The Geographical Review v. 94 no. 1 (January 2004) p. 43-54) Bellamy died while in the midst of a losing battle to change the world and cater it to the ideals that his novel embodied. However, many socialists and those that would soon be labeled as socialists, took Looking Backward: 2000-1887 to heart; there were some small utopian societies that began and were based on the structure of the society in Bellamy’s novel.
One of the utopian societies that was formed based on the structure of Bellamy’s socialistic society in his novel, is the Equality Colony near Edison, Washington, founded by Wallace Lermond, E. G. Pelton, and twelve others in 1897. Lermond said, "The people must be aroused from their present lethargy, indifference, and despondency. The country must be stirred from center to circumference. And the quickest and best way to do this is by colonizing a state such as Kas. was colonized prior to the Civil War. The example thus set would be contagious, and neighboring states would not be slow to follow the same road" (LaWarne). In practice, the colony of about 200 people (and growing) took to their trades and built necessary schoolhouses and warehouses. And although their hope was to convert America to socialism, the other ideals and philosophies of how to run their lives differed when it came to alcohol, smoking, religion, amongst other things. Eventually ran low on money and was taken over by anarchist Alexander Horr, so it really didn’t work out that well at all. My research tells me that those ideas were better left in the novel.
Bellamy’s works include his novel that gave him the most fame and propelled many novelists within a year of its publishing to write in the similar ilk of utopian societies, Looking Backward: 2000-1887, and his other less-known works such as the sequel to Looking Backward: 2000-1887, Equality, amongst others like Dr. Heidenhoff's Process, Miss Ludington's Sister, and The Duke of Stockbridge. Equality did not yield the same popularity in American culture as Looking Backward had, but an excerpt from it entitled “The Parable of the Water-Tank” had some ground with American socialists who reprinted it in propaganda pamphlets.
Sources:
http://www.answers.com/topic/utopian-communities
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Edward_Bellamy
Meyer, W. B., The Geographical Review v. 94 no. 1 (January 2004) p. 43-54
http://www.historylink.org/index.cfm?DisplayPage=output.cfm&file_id=5444
Sunday, October 11, 2009
I'm hilarious...
Found text:
YEAR 2000
"If I were to fall into a mesmeric sleep tonight as lasting as that other, and meanwhile the course of time were to take a turn backward instead of forward, and I were to wake up again in the nineteenth century, when I had told my friends what I had seen, they would every one admit that your world was a paradise of order, equity, and felicity." (p. 183) - Mr. West
Modern translation:
YEAR 2009
"Yo 19th Century, I'm really happy for you , and I'mma letchu finish, but the 20th Century had one of the best nations of all time...one of the best of all time!"- Mr. West
YEAR 2000
"If I were to fall into a mesmeric sleep tonight as lasting as that other, and meanwhile the course of time were to take a turn backward instead of forward, and I were to wake up again in the nineteenth century, when I had told my friends what I had seen, they would every one admit that your world was a paradise of order, equity, and felicity." (p. 183) - Mr. West
Modern translation:
YEAR 2009
"Yo 19th Century, I'm really happy for you , and I'mma letchu finish, but the 20th Century had one of the best nations of all time...one of the best of all time!"- Mr. West
Saturday, September 26, 2009
ALL EXCERPTS ARE FROM CHAPTER 23, PAGE 207 OF MARK TWAIN’S A CONNECTICUT YANKEE AT KING ARTHUR’S COURT
Saturday noon I went to the well and looked on a while. Merlin was still burning smoke-powders, and pawing the air, and muttering gibberish as hard as ever, but looking pretty down-hearted, for of course he had not started even a perspiration in that well yet.
At first glance, the diction in this excerpt suggests that Hank thinks Merlin is a joke, as he describes Merlin’s attempts with phrases such as “pawing at the air” and “muttering gibberish as hard as ever” and “of course he had not started even a perspiration in that well yet.” He is made to be read as a spastic, flailing old coot. However, looking more closely at the word choice, Hank, or perhaps Twain, purposely uses the word “yet,” suggesting that there is some chance in the future that he might be successful in his endeavors. The phrase “hard as ever” also lends the reader to give Merlin some respect; although his spells are exercises in futility, he is persistent and must have faith in himself to continue conjuring them with no result.
Finally I said:
‘How does the thing promise by this time, partner?’
‘Behold, I am even now busied with trial of the powerfulest enchantment known to the princes of the occult arts in the lands of the East; an it fail me, naught can avail. Peace, until I finish.’
He raised a smoke this time that darkened all the region, and must have made matters uncomfortable for the hermits, for the wind was their way, and it rolled down over their dens in a dense and billowy fog. He poured out volumes of speech to match, and contorted his body and sawed the air with his hands in a most extraordinary way. At the end of the twenty minutes he dropped down panting, and about exhausted.
This next paragraph is, in some ways, a contradiction of the one that preceded it. The imagery here makes Merlin seem powerful. His gestures that were previously described as “pawing at the air” now carry more strength, as he “sawed the air with his hands in a most extraordinary way.” One way to read this is that Merlin is putting an increasing amount of energy into his spells and that the “pawing at the air” and the “[sawing] the air” are two separate gestures. However, I am sure that Twain is describing the same enchantment. My question is, why the inconsistency? What is it suggesting about Merlin’s magical ability? What does it suggest about Hank Morgan as a narrator? What does it say about Twain?
While the imagery makes Merlin seem powerful, his dialogue with Hank leaves less to be desired. Merlin uses the word “powerfulest,” which any person with a high school diploma can recognize is not a real word. He looks foolish of his own accord, not through Hank’s descriptions of him. The insecurities he has about the enchantment that he is casting are shielded by wordy pseudo-name-dropping: “princes of the occult arts in the lands of the East” call it, apparently, the “powerfulest enchantment” known to those parts. This is to make his failures seem reasonable.
Saturday noon I went to the well and looked on a while. Merlin was still burning smoke-powders, and pawing the air, and muttering gibberish as hard as ever, but looking pretty down-hearted, for of course he had not started even a perspiration in that well yet.
At first glance, the diction in this excerpt suggests that Hank thinks Merlin is a joke, as he describes Merlin’s attempts with phrases such as “pawing at the air” and “muttering gibberish as hard as ever” and “of course he had not started even a perspiration in that well yet.” He is made to be read as a spastic, flailing old coot. However, looking more closely at the word choice, Hank, or perhaps Twain, purposely uses the word “yet,” suggesting that there is some chance in the future that he might be successful in his endeavors. The phrase “hard as ever” also lends the reader to give Merlin some respect; although his spells are exercises in futility, he is persistent and must have faith in himself to continue conjuring them with no result.
Finally I said:
‘How does the thing promise by this time, partner?’
‘Behold, I am even now busied with trial of the powerfulest enchantment known to the princes of the occult arts in the lands of the East; an it fail me, naught can avail. Peace, until I finish.’
He raised a smoke this time that darkened all the region, and must have made matters uncomfortable for the hermits, for the wind was their way, and it rolled down over their dens in a dense and billowy fog. He poured out volumes of speech to match, and contorted his body and sawed the air with his hands in a most extraordinary way. At the end of the twenty minutes he dropped down panting, and about exhausted.
This next paragraph is, in some ways, a contradiction of the one that preceded it. The imagery here makes Merlin seem powerful. His gestures that were previously described as “pawing at the air” now carry more strength, as he “sawed the air with his hands in a most extraordinary way.” One way to read this is that Merlin is putting an increasing amount of energy into his spells and that the “pawing at the air” and the “[sawing] the air” are two separate gestures. However, I am sure that Twain is describing the same enchantment. My question is, why the inconsistency? What is it suggesting about Merlin’s magical ability? What does it suggest about Hank Morgan as a narrator? What does it say about Twain?
While the imagery makes Merlin seem powerful, his dialogue with Hank leaves less to be desired. Merlin uses the word “powerfulest,” which any person with a high school diploma can recognize is not a real word. He looks foolish of his own accord, not through Hank’s descriptions of him. The insecurities he has about the enchantment that he is casting are shielded by wordy pseudo-name-dropping: “princes of the occult arts in the lands of the East” call it, apparently, the “powerfulest enchantment” known to those parts. This is to make his failures seem reasonable.
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