Endangered Wildlife

I must say, tonight's talk was nothing like what I expected it to be. I don't know why, but for some reason I had this vision of James Carroll spending an our discussing American Requiem, and I was a little taken aback when he didn't do that. I understand now that that would have been a totally absurd way to give a talk since everyone in the audience probably hasn't read his book.

So once I got past my initial shock, I was struck by his quote, "The human species has the capacity to make itself extinct." I had never thought of our dependence on nuclear warfare games like this, but it makes complete sense. We are the only species that would willingly cause ourselves (or a portion of ourselves)  to go extinct if it meant winning a war. We would be willing to lose entire cultures just to have the right to say we won. But who does that help in the end? Absolutely no one, that's who.

Nuclear warfare, and all warfare for that matter, is absolutely disgusting to me, and it amazes me that any civilization or country believes that they have the right to decide when another city or country deserves to die.   Carroll agrees with me, and I hope that his talks and books can influence the word to abolish nuclear warfare once and for all.

Power of Perspective

One of the special qualities of writing that interests and intrigues me the most is the power of perspective. Perspective can change a negative to a positive or a truth to a lie. It can change someone's opinion faster than seems physically possible, and it can ultimately portray someone as the hero or the villain. Like we said in class, there are two sides to every story, which makes a memoir difficult to deem as historical fact because bias is so strong in the book.

I first noticed the role of perspective in James Carroll's book when he wrote about Angelo Roncalli, or, as he's more commonly known, Pope John XXIII. This name jumped out to me because I graduated from Roncalli High School, so naturally I liked the book infinitely more simply because it mentions my alma mater's namesake. Because of my attendance at a school named for him, I know more than I ever expected to about Roncalli, and it struck me that my perspective of Pope John XXIII is much different than Carroll's. I've learned everything I know about the Pope from teachers and other sources who never actually knew him. James Carroll was fortunate enough to meet and share a moment with the Pope. Although our perspectives are different, Carroll proved to me that when certain opinions match up, they must share some truth. Our own particular opinions line up where Pope John XXIII's affinity for the papacy is concerned. Carroll reassured me that Pope John XXIII was an incredible man, and this realization helped me to trust Carroll's writing more.

I'll take a double shot of emotion please.

Maya Angelou has a true gift for imagery, that's for sure. But I've noticed throughout her book, I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings, that she throws in bits of information that would normally be a big deal to other authors in unassuming ways that catch the reader off guard. It's almost as if she wants you to perfectly visualize the small details but form your own assumptions of everything big. This is an unusual technique, but it actually adds to the gravity of some situations because it lets the reader know that this event or topic was so big in her life that she didn't feel the need to use colorful words to describe it. She just wrote it out.

For example, on page 203 of this book, she says, "But Momma left for Arkansas without me with her solid air packed around her like cotton." Minimal imagery, minimal words. She simply states what happens. When I read this, I initially thought she was a bit heartless to give the woman who raised her such an unceremonious  goodbye, but I realized it was just the opposite. She loved this woman so much that to write about watching her leave for the last time would have turned this memoir into a requiem of sorts for her lost grandmother. She was moving on to a new place in her life, and this was the transition.

I also noticed this odd lack of imagery in her tale of her pregnancy and the birth of her son. 7 pages. That's all she used to tell the reader about her life-changing experience of conceiving and bearing a son. However, I've realized that this lack of words doesn't correlate to a lack of emotion. In fact, her minimal account of his birth emphasizes how big the event was in her life because even in that short chapter, I still can feel her love for him. Maya Angelou, bravo.

Behind the Facade

I found it ironic in the movie "Girl Interrupted" that Lisa and Susanna both seemed to portray one type of character while, in actuality, they were just the opposite of what they first seemed to be. Lisa was a fighter at first glance. She broke out of the mental hospital on many occasions, and she had dreams of moving to Florida to work at Disney World. This image of a fighter was juxtaposed with Susanna's quiet acquiescence to life in the mental hospital. She only briefly fought the institution before she began going about her normal life there.

Lisa was the fighter. Susanna was the compliant, quiet inmate.

But not for long...

Lisa proclaimed herself as the "lifer" at one point, and it was obvious that she actually believed she would never be released, so why not have some fun until she destroyed herself? Susanna made a mental shift to get better and actually benefit from the program, and she did.

Susanna was the fighter. Lisa was the compliant, not-so-quiet inmate.

This sharp contrast in views on fighting the institution shows that the screenwriter and director of the movie wanted to prove that appearances can change, and that first impressions are rarely true. The movie proves that the meek underdog can end up being the one who breaks free. Slow and steady wins the race, you know.