Western Imagery and Names in Song of Solomon

Toni Morrison said that things don't go well for her characters when they mix with Western myth, and it's pretty clear that many characters get the shaft in this book. But her use of Western imagery and naming sequences is particularly interesting, especially when compared with the other names characters end up with, like Guitar.
First, the cave. Caves are an important feature of Greek Mythology as well as Song of Solomon. In Song of Solomon, events in a cave set off much of the tension in the book. Here, Pilate and Macon kill their father (probably), and leave gold behind, which causes the split between Macon and Pilate. (The gold also highlights a deeper split in their natures over their philosophy on money in general. Macon thinks it's the only true freedom, while Pilate and her family are happy to live without-- Hagar constantly gives away her winnings).

Flight: Professor Miller suggested that Milkman could be compared to Icarus, who flew too close to the sun, crashing and burning on his arrogance. I think that the hero's journey Milkman undergoes demonstrates his success rather than failure.

 However, when looked at from a woman's perspective, Song of Solomon does not appear so triumphant. One person who always struck me as a depressing figure in Greek myth is Penelope, the wife of Odysseus. Penelope is the soul of loyalty, diligently turning away a hundred eight suitors while Odysseus philanders with Circe and other women. Worse still is Ariadne, who helped Theseus navigate the labyrinth and was abandoned by him. In Song of Solomon, many women are held back by a double standard or abandoned, like Hagar and Sweet.

 Circe, too, one of the most powerful people of myth, is sort of left haunting her own house.

 While concepts in Song of Solomon come mainly from Greek mythology, many names are biblical. For example, Saul, the man Milkman fights with a broken bottle, is also (sha'ul) שָׁאוּל, the bitter king of Israel who was fated to be succeeded by David. Milkman's fight against Saul makes him a David-like figure, though one wonders if Morrison is combining the story of David and Saul and David and Goliath, since David never fought Saul directly, and Milkman won with an unconventional weapon, just like David's slingshot in the latter fight.

Hagar's name, too, comes from the second wife of Avraham (Abraham) in the bible. Like the biblical Hagar, Song of Solomon's Hagar was cast out by her lover.

 King Solomon is also referenced in Song of Solomon's title. King Solomon was gifted with wisdom, though he was punished for taking too many wives and had trouble with his children, who split the kingdom in two. In Song of Solomon, Milkman's great grandfather Solomon supposedly flew back to Africa, leaving his wife and 21 children. Later issues in the family may also hearken back to Biblical Solomon, such as the split between Macon and Pilate.
Though three books in the Hagiographa are attributed to Solomon (Song of Songs, Proverbs, and Ecclesiastes), Song of Solomon probably refers to Song of Songs, which ostensibly deals with issues of love.

 However, Song of Songs isn't the only book from its category mentioned in Song of Solomon. Milkman's mother is named Ruth (which is unlikely to be coincidence in a book that includes names like Milkman and Guitar). Biblical Ruth is another paragon of loyalty and love, who follows her mother-in-law into a foreign land after her husband dies, eventually remarrying to Boaz. Ruth is the ancestor of Solomon and David, connecting Song of Solomon's Milkman further to David. However, it is hard to see how Song of Solomon's Ruth herself compares to the biblical Ruth.

Though Song of Solomon's Ruth's husband never died, Ruth might have been better off if Macon was dead. It seems like Ruth has to deal with her husband being a living dead person- his name is Dead, their relationship is dead, but still he lives on to torment her. (Interestingly, Macon seems get more use out of his full name, Macon Dead, than any other Dead relative). Ruth seems to have an obsession with death-- it even says in the book that she dealt with death far more strongly than anything in life. It's almost as if Ruth is made to contrast with biblical Ruth, and to envy her for the love she gave and got. SOS Ruth has lots of love, but no one to accept it.
So, does anyone have any more allusions to Western concepts from Song of Solomon?

A Poor Man's Elegy for Gabriel García Márquez

R. I. P. Gabriel García Márquez 

Today I am aware that I am poor--and poorer yet--for the loss of Gabriel García Márquez. Not to underestimate literal poverty (I have some mild experience with that), but today's poverty seems sadder. I am poor in that I have only really read two of his novels. I am poorer now that I know for sure that only a fixed number remain and that their creator is no longer with us.

Is Márquez the greatest novelist of the twentieth century? It seems pretty likely. He probably would have cited Faulkner, and I can understand that. I might even agree with it depending on whether I had read One Hundred Years of Solitude or Absalom, Absalom! more recently. You can make a strong case that Márquez exceeded his master, just as Faulkner to my mind exceeded James Joyce. But there is no doubt Márquez directly affected more people than Faulkner, touched more hearts and minds, and inspired people in the best possible sense, more so than Faulkner. For a writer of his weirdness and stylistic ambition this was a heroic achievement. It is neither elegiac nostalgia nor subjective overstatement to describe his balance of literary ambition and public appeal as one of the greatest achievements in the history of art.

My love of One Hundred Years of Solitude has somewhat inhibited my appreciation of the rest of his work. While I have read One Hundred Years three times and skimmed it a couple more, the only other novel that I have read by Márquez is Autumn of the Patriarch, which I read while traveling through southern Mexico with a woman I had once been in love with. Throughout the trip we fought meanly, and Márquez was my escape. There was something darkly thrilling about reading Autumn of the Patriarch in my hotel room after visiting Teotihuacan and Xochicalco in a romantic fury. But for me, like so many others, it is One Hundred Years of Solitude that carved a permanent place in my imagination. So many of its characters populate me that just thinking of Melquíades, Colonel Aureliano, José Arcadio, Ursula, Remedios, Pilar Ternera, poor Pietro Crespi, Amaranta, Meme, and (my favorite obscure character of all time), Francisco the Man makes me feel a bit Whitmanesque. While the novel has been as influential as anything written in the twentieth century and Márquez's style has led to an international movement and revolution in how we think of storytelling, reading One Hundred Years of Solitude is ultimately a deeply personal experience that no one should deny herself.

Gabriel García Márquez has died. I like to imagine that what really happened is that he floated up to the Heaven of Genius, like Remedios the beauty, the calmest presence in the crazy world he inspired, the eye of our storm, but I know that the truth of surviving cancer (or rather of not surviving it, having watched my father succumb to melanoma) and of living with Alzheimer's disease (an uncle on my mother's side) is no one's idea of paradise.

In December of 2008 Márquez told some of his fans at a book fair that writing had worn him out. While it is somewhat comforting to know that his superhuman creativity did at least test his mortal reserves, it was also sad to hear such an admission from a human being whose imagination seemed boundless. I insist on believing that Márquez, even when his Alzheimer's was at its worst, could still count himself the king of infinite space. "This is the great invention of our time," José Arcadio Buendía said. Not ice, but the world making powers of Gabriel García Márquez.

A Hint of Yankee Among the Danes

With a rebellion in Ukraine and a civil war in Syria, one may wonder what are the prerequisites for a successful revolution. Is having a goal and some support enough? How much action is necessary to promote change? 

In chapter eight of Grendel, John Gardner makes a short, yet bold statement about revolution, that is slightly overlooked due to the novel’s primary focus on philosophy, or more particularly nihilism and solipsism. Hrothulf, the king’s nephew is frustrated by the socioeconomic standings within Hrothgar’s kingdom. The peasants labor, while the aristocrats collect the resulting riches, yet the peasants live drastically poorer lives than the thanes. Red Horse, the old peasant who mentors Hrothulf in his quest to revolt teaches him that “by a single stroke, the most criminal acts must be converted to heroic and meritorious deeds… The total ruin of institutions and morals is an act of creation. A religious act. Murder and mayhem are the life and soul of revolution” (Gardner 117-118). 

Although Gardner was born after Mark Twain had already passed away, this idea of violence being crucial to a revolution reminded me too much of A Connecticut Yankee in King Arthur’s Court. Hank himself reflects that “no people in the world ever did achieve their freedom by goody-goody talk and moral suasion: it being immutable law that all revolutions that will succeed must begin in blood, whatever may answer afterward” (Twain 103). Both Hank and Hrothulf’s mentor seem to believe that nonviolent protests are not productive enough to bring about change. However, as expected, this opinion found in Grendel is tainted by nihilistic beliefs. The Red Horse continues to explain that revolution “is not the substitution of immoral for moral, or of illegitimate for legitimate violence; it is simply the pitting of power against power, where the issue is freedom for the winners and enslavement of the rest,” and he concludes with the depressing thought that “all systems are evil. All governments are evil. Not just a trifle evil. Monstrously evil” (Gardner 119-120). 

It is possible that this is the core difference between Hank’s and the Red Horse’s seemingly similar opinions on how to carry out a successful revolution. In Grendel, violence is necessary for a revolution, because revolution is meaningless in the sense that it will never lead to universal justice. Rather, revolution just perpetuates a cycle of the strong usurping the weak or the rich exploiting the poor, so for levels of society to change positions, power needs to meet power. On the other hand, in A Connecticut Yankee of King Arthur’s Court violence is necessary in the beginning in order to create change, however that isn’t the essence of the revolution. The essence of the revolution is in fact to achieve universal freedom, which benefits all of society. According to Hank, violence is a means to an end that is better and more promising, as opposed to the opinion of the Red Horse who believes violence is a means to an end that is different but not objectively better than what existed beforehand. If violence achieves the latter, conceivably violence is necessary to promote change, but could one still consider it a prerequisite for a successful revolution? According to Hank it would seem as if a revolution needs to generate positive change in order to be considered successful, while the Red Horse seems to think that a revolution’s success is based on any effective change, whether that change is good or bad. Being as positive change is a rather subjective measure, perhaps the Red Horse’s pessimistic views aren’t so far off. 

Toni Morrison Video Link

Here is the Toni Morrison video that I had hoped to have time to show during our last class. Her speech starts at 14 minutes in to the video, and you will probably want to skip ahead to this time. The introductions for her go on a while and are not nearly as interesting. Her speech lasts about 30 minutes, and it is an inspiring and thought-provoking performance--well worth your time.

Amusing Faulkner Interview Response

I thought some of you might find the following exchange between "The Bear" author William Faulkner and an interviewer asking him about the difficulty of reading his stories.

Grendel Links and Class Concerns

I am a little concerned about the number of posts up so far. Only one post fully about Grendel? What's going on?

By my count, many of you must be behind. In class last week, you said you could handle the posts without my assigning a fixed schedule. I feel this method is appropriate for a group of adults studying literature, especially in an honor's class, but I am quite concerned that some of you are waiting to do yours until the last minute.

I want to reiterate what I said earlier in class: the requirements for the class blog (four front page posts over the semester and an average of two comments per week) is firm and will not change. I've had non-honor's classes meet this requirement, so I know it is reasonable here. Your schedule isn't going to be getting any easier as the semester winds up, so take the initiative and start making posts if you are falling behind. Nearly all of the posts up so far have been "A" quality, so I know all of you have it in you to excel in this part of the class.

Also, here is a link to the letter I read from in class last week--the one in which John Gardner addresses students about Grendel. It's a fascinating document that will provide strong insights into the book: http://www.genesee.edu/gcc/gardner/perdue.htm

Here is a link to a Gardner fan page with useful information about him and Grendel:
http://www.genesee.edu/gcc/gardner/gardner.htm

See you in class!