Cask of Amontillado

Nobody ever put up a post about Cask of Amontillado, so I'm now taking the opportunity to revisit it.

Some of the ideas that I'm presenting are far-fetched, and I don't necessarily believe them, but they came to me in a fit of divine inspiration during math class today; and, as you all know, I am not one to defy the whims of the Power. Apparently the Power wants me to play devil's advocate—go figure.

CASK OF AMONTILLADO:

One has to admire Montresor for the amount of self control he exercises in carrying out his revenge. If you’ve ever heard the phrase “in cold blood,” you’ll agree that it applies to Montresor’s actions. As Montresor says, “It must be understood that neither by word nor deed had I given Fortunato cause to doubt my good will. I continued as was my wont, to smile in his face, and he did not perceive that my smile NOW was at the thought of his immolation.” Though Montresor intended to kill Fortunato for a rather emotional reason, Montresor plans the dirty deed calmly and coolly. To a certain extent, Montresor removes his emotions when planning the death of Fortunato: Montresor doesn’t immediately act upon his anger, but rather, plans a punishment for Fortunato which will not result in consequences harmful to Montresor.

Let’s swoon over Montresor a while longer. Montresor masterfully plays to Fortunato’s weaknesses. (I would venture to say that Fortunato has more than one important weakness.) Fortunato proves quite eager to follow Montresor into the dimly lit, Amontillado-containing catacombs because Montresor does not merely use Fortunato’s connoisseurship in wine against him, but also employs reverse psychology to manipulate Fortunato.

On multiple occasions, Montresor entreats Fortunato to turn back, effectively saying, “On second thought, the vaults are damp and full of nitre, so you should turn back.” Ah, Montresor. We see through your clever tricks; you make identifying the Amontillado yet more appealing to Fortunato! Last but not least, Montresor twice gives liquor to Fortunato during their journey through the catacombs. (I don’t believe Montresor was especially clever for using the “get’em drunk” technique, but you can’t fault Montresor for using a tried and true method to decrease Fortunato’s reasoning capacity.)

Finally, here’s an interesting point that we didn’t bring up during class. (I missed this the first time I looked over the packet and figured that perhaps others had overlooked it as well.) Fortunato was drunk even before Montresor had given him liquor. “… I encountered my friend. He accosted me with excessive warmth, for he had been drinking much.” And, another quote, “He turned towards me and looked into my eyes with two filmy orbs that distilled the rheum of intoxication.”

In closing, I commend Poe for a short story well written, Montresor for a murder well-carried out, and my classmates for actually reading this post.

QUESTION: In Montresor’s mind, Fortunato’s actions did not warrant death until Fortunato insulted Montresor. (He added insult to injury.) Just a thought: what is the difference between insult and injury?

---Danielle

It's not POE it's YOU! given in 3 parts

Omg!! Where to begin? Where to begin?

PART I - A day in the mall
Ok. First of all, I'd like to start out with a scenario:

DURING the day, a Saturday to be exact, it all happened. I was walking through the mall, just looking for the ultra-rare Buddha-shaped toenail clipper, out of stock in every store. Then I saw him. He was just standing there in the middle of the food court. He appeared to be mumbling something to himself. He then did that cross thing with his hands (the one where you draw a cross in the air over your chest) and pulled from under his overcoat a AK-47. It seemed as though I was the only one to notice him. It all happened so fast; he pulled the trigger and shot a man in a clown outfit.

this is where the story can go off into two tangents.

a) What would really happen:
Not knowing what to do, everyone INVOLUNTARILY screamed and ran for their lives. Though the security gates already closed (closed so tight that something such as the red death could not get in or out) due to the gun shots, the 1000+ people in the mall were able to tear down the barrier. (this is not really that illogical if you look at how humans were able to create the great pyramids) Then Blah Blah Blah

b) What Theresa think happened:
Not knowing what to do, everyone INVOLUNTARILY ran towards the gunner, all getting killed in the process because he brought extra rounds with him just in case. Then Blah Blah Blah

I think where I'm trying to go with this is pretty evident. So let's move on to part secundus.

PART II - aristocracy or everyone?
So, about that. Yeah, I think we are we are taking literary criticism of Poe way too far. I highly doubt Poe was so self-absorbed that every piece of work he published was to mock his father. I believe anyone can create hate stories but we have to look at why Poe's work was chosen above all the rest. Thinking about it this way, the story is more based on the fact that death cannot be avoided by anyone of any status. It is true that we cannot replace the aristocracy with peasants in this story and still have a logically sound story. The story does, however, relate to everyone in that there is no define setting involved with this story, as in The Cask of the Amontillado. It is not important to see who Poe hates/dislikes, but on a larger scale, how we are affected personally by the story or what message is Poe giving. Being thus, we cannot look purely at all of Poe's short stories from the "I somewhat agree with ......, but ......." sense because everyone is "right" in his/her mind. We are all sharing our ideas, there's no need to flame >.> *cough*TheresaDanielleMATTTTttttt*cough*

PART III
nvm i decided not to add this because im getting flamed enough as it is.

EDIT: thanks to Matt for proofreading

Fall of the House of Usher

16. What inconsistency does he notice in Roderick’s behavior?
He notices an “excessive nervous agitation.” Roderick alternates between lively and sullen. The narrator claims that his voice goes from “tremulous indecision” to the guttural utterance of a “lost drunkard” or “eater of opium.”

17. What does Roderick mean by declaring he suffers “a morbid acuteness of the senses”?
His symptoms involve the five senses...
-Food was endurable
-He could only wear clothes of certain textures
-Smells were all oppressive
-Light hurt his eyes
-The only sound he could bear were from string instruments

18. Of what is Roderick afraid?
-Roderick fears that the severity of his condition will kill him.
-He fears any future event which may provoke his senses to be pained.
-He fears losing both life and reason.
-He holds superstitious beliefs about the power of the house.

19. Who is the only other occupant of the House, and what does Roderick say about that person?
The other occupant is Roderick’s diseased sister Madeline. Roderick says, “‘Her decease...would leave him...the last of the ancient race of Ushers.’”

20. How does the narrator spend his time with Roderick?
They painted and read together. The narrator listened to Roderick play his speaking guitar.

21. Of which of Roderick’s more concrete works of art does the narrator offer a description?
There was a small painting of a rectangular tunnel which unnerved the narrator. The tunnel was underground and without any artificial light, but “a flood of intense rays rolled throughout.”

22. The song “The Haunted Palace” is nearly the center of the story, and it contains a series of references that connect it to the idea established by answer to #14. Look at each stanza and identify the elements that connect the Palace to Poe’s establish imagery.

Stanza 1: “Once a fair and stately place” indicates that it no longer is hospitable. Establishes house as a “palace.”
Stanza 2: Repeats that the goodness of the Palace was “in the olden time long ago.” Shows that the palace is supernatural because it can transform a “gentle air” into “a winged odor.”
Stanza 3: Spirits who like music fill the palace, much like the Ushers fill the mansion. Spirit has a supernatural connotation which reinforces the eeriness of the house.
Stanza 4: Echoes come from the house, adding to the supernatural appeal. Spirits obey the higher power of the king, implying that occupants of the house obey some power that is not their own.
Stanza 5: “Evil things” invade the home, proving the house is now evil. The glory is “but a dim-remembered story.”
Stanza 6: The “red-litten windows” are creepy imagery. The “vast forms that move fantastically to a discordant melody” are the Ushers.

23. What do the literary works they read all have in common?
They are all set in foreign countries.

24. What does Roderick decide to do with Madeline after her death? Why?
He decides to preserve her in one of the vaults in one of the main walls of the building. He decides this because he fears the inappropriately inquisitive doctors of Madeline, the exposed position of the family burial ground, and Madeline’s odd personality.

25. What description does the narrator offer of the vault?
The vault was small, damp, and it was underground beneath narrator’s bedchamber. There was no way to light the vault. It had previously been used as a dungeon, then as storage for combustible powder. The interior, portions of the floor, and the iron door had been sheathed in copper.

26. What does the narrator notice during their last look at Madeline?
The narrator notices how alike Madeline and Roderick are, and discovers that the two are twins. Madeline had the “mockery of a faint blush” and a “suspiciously lingering smile.”

27. How does Roderick’s behavior and attitude change after they return from the vault? How does the narrator interpret this?
Roderick purposelessly wandered through the house, neglecting his usual occupations. He was paler, with no light in his eyes and a perpetually quavering voice. The narrator thought that Roderick may be keeping a great secret from him. He thinks Roderick had “fantastic but impressive superstitions” which began to affect him.

28. On the final night, how does the narrator describe Roderick’s behavior?
There was a mad hilarity in his eyes, and repressed hysteria about his demeanor.

29. What is happening outside the house? How does that relate to the action inside? (Think of Macbeth...)
Violent winds gust in all directions. The clouds were low and dense around the house, blocking out the view of the sky. Visible gaseous matter that had an unnatural glow hung around the mansion. I have never read Macbeth, and since I cannot glean the reference from a SparkNotes plot overview, I am going to ignore it. I would guess that the paranormal events outside reflect the supernatural occurrences in the house.

30. What volume does the narrator read to Roderick?
He reads “Mad Trist” of Sir Lancelot Canning, a dull romance.

31. What happens at the point in the story when Ethelred tries to force his way into the hermit’s house?
They heard an echo of a cracking and ripping sound in the house.

32. What happens at the point in the story when Ethelred slays the dragon?
They heard a screaming, grating sound.

33. What happens at the point in the story when Ethelred moves to claim the shield?
There was a metallic reverberation like a shield of brass falling on a silver floor.

34. What does Roderick admit?
Roderick rocks in his chair, speaking in a “gibbering murmur” to himself. Roderick admits that Madeline was alive when they put her in the tomb.

35. What were the true origins of the three sounds they heard?
The ripping sound was the breaking of her coffin. The scream of the dead dragon was the grating of the hinges of her prison. The metallic reverberation was her struggle in the copper archway of her tomb.

36. Who then arrives?
A gust threw back the antique doors of the room, revealing Madeline. She was emaciated, with blood on her white robes. Madeline moaned and trembled, reeling about the room. She then collapsed on her brother and they both died. The narrator fled from the house.

37. What happens to the physical House? What happens to the familial “House”?
The blood-red moon revealed a fissure from the roof to the base of the house. As the narrator watched, the fissure widened and a gust of wind caused the walls were torn apart. The tarn swallowed the fragments of the house. The familial house died out because Roderick and Madeline were the last two of the Usher bloodline.

I'm Home Sick Today, So Why Not?

This was originally a comment, but since it's so long, a post it is.

Will: I agree that Romanticism represents a basic human desire. To some extent, all of us have very romantic ideas about this or that and those ideas make life richer.

The grey area comes in when we consider the meaning of "romantic" or "to romantize." The latter is often used in sentences like, "People often romantize about the farmers of the Middle Ages," meaning that people often look back and proclaim that we should all return to that personal, living off the land, natural ethic 'cause that's better, more natural. In their righteous haste, they forget the fact that farmer's lives in the Middle Ages really were nasty, brutish and short and there was nothing particularly romantic about it at all.

"Bad" literature tends to romantize. Let me correct that and I'm not really sure the right way to word it so it doesn't sound offensive. But I don't mean bad. Non-serious doesn't work because that implies that serious works are no fun or "too intellectual for the common folk." Pehaps feel-good literature carries a suitable connotation, but then again real literature makes you feel better than any feel-good lit can. Propoganda the word, as we've learned, necessarily leaves a bad taste in the mouth. Maybe the best way to define what I'm after is in terms of the author's intent.

Real literature is an exploration, not an explaination. Real literature doesn't take sides. Real literature takes a look at an aspect of the human experience and explores it in the deepest way possible. Real literature doesn't romantize, because to romantize is to tell an untruth. Real literature is composed of truths. Not facts, but truths. Real literature can contain romantic ideas, but only because they reflect an aspect of human nature that is fundamentally romantic.

Now we're at the crux of the matter. Is Bryant's romanticism exploring a fundamental, but romantic idea or is it simply an artificial exposition? In a less obscure sense, is it a meditation on life or a manifesto for life?

To tell you the truth, I don't know. But the value lies in the question, not the answer. Literature isn't a puzzle to be worked out. But neither does its beauty lie in it's ability to go either way. The former inspires terror with far too much meaning, and the latter propogates apathy with its meaninglessness. The beauty of poetry lies in its ability to apply to all and sundry situations across time and place and individual. Great poetry achieves this by truths. The difference, to bring this back to Marx (yay!), is between reading, say, Dickens and the Communist Manifesto. Both inspire an upswell of feeling but for different reasons.

Now, I don't argue that "Thanatopsis" is in the same vein as the Communist Manifesto. Probably, this discussion has moved beyond Bryant himself. And, for the record, Dickens and Marx both no doubt show up together on those interminable lists of greatest this or that. But for different reasons. We still read Dickens today and not just as a lesson in 19th century life. It's timeless, not timely. Reading Marx helps explain over a century of global history. But only the most ardent and deluded Marxists would argue it's timeless.

If we are indeed moving beyond Bryant, we may as well take Longfellow along with us. Now, I missed the day we talked about "A Psalm of Life" in class due to the National Latin Exam, so I don't know exactly what was and wasn't said. But I'd like to point out what makes Longfellow different from Bryant.

Looking back, "Thanatopsis" could very well be both a meditation and a manifesto. From the start, the poem clearly is a kind of meditation and it evokes that specific kind of feeling from across time which is the mark of a good poem. But at times it swoops into that kind of preaching that "To A Waterfowl" makes clear. Is he describing a situation or proclaiming his own views? Longfellow's "A Psalm of Life" has one crucial difference. I would have written my post on the failings of Longfellow, not of Bryant if not for this single line, not even in the poem proper: "What the heart of the young man said to the psalmist." That line means everything.

In that single line, the poem becomes not a Manifeso for Carpe Diem, but a point of view, a characterization, a description, an exploration, a meditation. The poem is not exhorting us to "Act, --act in the living present." The poem is a poem about youth. Longfellow isn't giving us any morals, no imperatives. There's no message. It's about triumphs and travails, the foolishness and fiery hearts of youth.

I just finished Milan Kundera's "Book of Laughter and Forgetting" and at one point he describes how he and his fellow students in the late 40s thought they could change the world, change human nature and create a real paradise on earth by bringing Communism to Czechoslovakia. I quote: "People have always aspired to an idyll, a garden where nightengales sing, a realm of harmony where the world does not rise up as a stranger against man nor man against other men, where the world and all its people are molded from a single stock and the fire lighting up the heavens is the fire burning in the hearts of men, where every man is a note in a magnificent Bach fugue and anyone who refuses his note is a mere black dot, useless and meaningless, easily caught and squashed between the fingers like and insect... And suddenly those talented young, intelligent radicals had the strange feeling of having sent something into the world, a deed of their own making, which had taken on a life of their own, lost all resemblance to the original idea, and totally ignored the orginators of the idea. So those young, intelligent radicals started shouting to their deed, calling it back, scolding it, chasing it, hunting it down. If I were to write a novel about that generation of talented radical thinkers, I would call it Stalking a Lost Deed."

In some sense the passages are really about the same thing: the mistakes of youth, of children. Longfellow writes, "Let the dead Past bury its dead!" Later in the book, Kunder writes: " 'Children, never look back,' he cried, and what he meant was that we must never allow the future to collapse under the burden of memory. Children, after all, have no past whatsoever. That alone accounts for the mystery of charmed innocence in their smiles... The idiot of music finished his song and the president of forgetting spread his arms and cried, 'Children, life is happiness.' " To live in the constant present is childish. Anyone who seizes the day without thinking is not to be trusted. And both passages also share something: distance. They are passages about something, not of a certain view.

I quoted those lengthy passage also because I wanted to mention that Kundera is one of my favorite authors and a lot of my ideas about literature derive from him. He's written multiple books on the art of the novel and of them (I think there are three) I've read his most recent, "The Curtain." I highly recommend him to all of you.

Sundry Bryantesques

Now, to leave the Marxist psychobable behind me firmly (to all those whom in my posts I offended, repulsed, or otherwise amused, I officially apologize for those interruptions) and to think very hard about William Cullen Bryant:

Fact: Bryant leaves me cold.

For all his critical acclaim, he's got nothing on Anne Bradstreet, nothing of her charm or warmth. Looking back at his biographical notes, even his supporters were reserved in treating him as a poet, regulating him firmly to the second rate. He got fame mainly as being the best of a literary tradition that didn't exist yet. As a person, he himself was described as cold. Why?

It's an interesting question because the answer obviously doesn't lie in his technical skill as a poet. Thanatopsis proves his abilities ten fold. There is drama and beauty in every line. He has the considerations of a real lyricist. But there lies the problem.

What is lyricism? Webster defines it (in the sense we're after) as: "an intense personal quality expressive of feeling or emotion in an art (as poetry or music)." It's something which characterizes many of the Romantics, from what I know already, Whitman especially. It's the poet's ego laid out on the page in a kind of selfless act. (But, perhaps for selfish reasons.) We can take messages, note similarites, be vindicated or enlightened by it. More directly, we can feel the emotion the poet is trying to get across as perfectly as if we were the poet ourselves. To achieve that is the mark of a first class poet.

Bryant could have been a first class poet, but for his poetry. They aren't so much poems as thinly veiled personal philosphical tracts. They are the ego spilled out on the page, but the only emotion we feel is always the same one: a kind of triumphant realization that I've got the answers! But that emotion doesn't rest easy inside of us. As a personal matter, these poems form the core of Byrants conciousness, which must be respected. And not all poems representing the enlightenment of their author are bad. But Bryant doesn't seem to move beyond them. In a phrase, his poems aren't human.

Anne Bradstreet's poems are human. They represent not the glory of an individual psychology, but powerful situations who's emotions come through in a perfect medium. Despite the restrictions of living in a Puritan society, that alieness, of centuries past and people far removed, her poems, her expressions are immedietly recognizable. The burning of her house, the death of her grandchild, it feels real. The poems, in their exploration of situations, reveal shades of basic human truths, of human existence.

She doesn't need Bryant's accouterments of language. In her poems, reading them, the language floats past you. It becomes one with a continuous stream of human feeling from the past.

You could say, well, what could be more human that contemplating death or the purpose of our lives, as Bryant's poems seem to do? But they sound artificial, say, the artifice of the waterfowl is too apparent. Not to rip open old wounds too soon, but it's essentially the same problem with communism. (giggle) In Thanatopsis, the image of earth as sepulcher is a powerful, dramatic one. It's equality for all. In death, we're all equal, even to the greatest kings. No one better and no one worse. Technically true, but death isn't really like that. Just like communism, it's an unnatural way of thinking of things. It's trying to change human nature. Communism asks you to subvert yourself to welfare of the collective. But that's not human. It's just like those advocating free love, invariably feeling jealousy. It's basic. Bryant is asking us to forget questions of life and death-- a "Power" will handle it. Sure, we all die alone, but some deaths are clearly more significant, maybe not in the whole strech of history, but at least in people's minds. Romanticism is an unnatural way of thinking. Ironically.

That shouldn't really come as a surprise. At the beginning of the unit, we all admitted Romanticism failed. It crops up every couple of decades or so and then dies again. It can't sustain itself. You can go out and try to live in nature. You can take all the lessons you want from waterfowls flying into the sunset, and that's valid, but sooner or later real life comes back to bite you in the ass.

I think Bryant himself knew this, perhaps, deep at heart. In the end, he focused not on his poetry, but on his paper and his politics.

Then again, maybe I'm all wrong and Bryant leaves me cold 'cause it's just really, really cheesy. But that's hardly as interesting.

BRYANT

Before I begin, I'd like to direct all of you to a decent reference source to help you analyze Bryant's "To a Waterfowl". The analysis wasn't as comprehensive as the review questions, but it may help the metaphorically-challenged (such as myself) to see "the big picture."

http://poetry.suite101.com/article.cfm/bryants_to_a_waterfowl

After reading Bryant's "To a Waterfowl" and "Thanatopsis," I have a few questions about the Review Questions. I'll address my questions separately for each poem. I've included my own thoughts on them, but I'd really appreciate any clarifications you're able to make.

"Thanatopsis":
3. What is the most depressing subject that afflicts us?

As far as I could see, the poem never specifically stated what the "most depressing subject" is. My interpretation would be the following: The most depressing subject that afflicts us is thoughts of the last bitter hour, which “come like a blight / Over thy spirit, and sad images / Of the stern agony, and shroud, and pall.”

12. With what does the poet equate death?

I felt that Bryant equated death to a "last sleep." In another part of the poem, however, Bryant writes "So live, that when they summons comes to join / The innumerable caravan which moves / To that mysterious realm, where each shall take his chamber in the silent halls of death.” I'm not sure whether or not "the innumerable caravan" refers to death.

14. How does the poem express Romantic philosophy?

I came up with two ways in which "Thanatopsis" expressed Romantic philosophy, but I'm sure there are more ways than what I discovered. I felt that the poem expresses Romantic philosophy by speaking of the beauty and permanence of nature. Also, the poem makes emotional rather than logical arguments, another characteristic of Romantic literature. Can you think of any other ways?

"To a Waterfowl":
5. What is notable about the development in stanza 4 that contributes to the poem's purpose?

I came up with a response for this question, but I'm not sure if it's completely correct or even if it's "completely complete." I thought that the development in stanza 4 that contributes to the poem’s purpose is notable because it refers to a “Power” (a higher being) who is taking care of the lone bird, directing it “along that pathless coast,-- / The desert and illimitable air.” I think that Stanza 4 shows that the poem demonstrates and refers to the existence and influence of a higher being/power. Perhaps one could even say that the existence of a higher being is a theme contained throughout the poem?

7. What analogy does the poet seek to establish between the narrative voice and the subject?

I am completely clueless on this one. Could it be that the narrative voice is... some sort of religious instructor and the subject is a potential follower? As I said, I have no idea how to answer this question.

14. What is the origin of the "lesson" learned by the narrative voice?

I'm fairly uncertain about this question. I guess the origin of the lesson is that the waterfowl was able to fly away and (presumably) safely arrive at its summer home/sheltered nest. Any alternate theories?

18. What aspects of the Romantic philosophy are expressed in the poem?

I found two aspects of the Romantic philosophy, but I'd like to hear additional ones. Here's what I have: the aspects of the Romantic philosophy expressed in this poem include Nature, a lack of logical argument, and an emphasis on feelings and emotions over reason.

Again, please add to and/or correct my ideas. Also, feel free to post any questions you have about the poems; I'll check for comments and respond to any tomorrow night.

--Thanks, Danielle