I want to be in on the Better Story

First of all, let me say that I love how Yann Martel writes: the flow of his language, the use of just enough imagery (but not too much so as to become flowery) , his down-to-earth voice that's still lofty enough to respect. I found a series of short stories by him at Hastings for less than a dollar one time and immediately bought it. Someone greatly under-appreciates this man's work and skill as a writer. For anyone interested, the short story compilation is called The Facts Behind the Helsinki Roccamatios.

The passage in Chapter 22 well illustrates the beauty of Martel's writing. I also love the three-word phrase he uses at the end: the better story. The short chapter describes Pi's imagining of the death of an atheist and the death of an agnostic. While I do not esteem atheists to the same degree Pi does because I believe everyone should believe in God and can love Jesus, I do still respect them more than the agnostic; the description of an agnostic's reasoning as "dry, yeast-less factuality" is fitting, indeed. And that three-word phrase, the better story, signifies that there is something to live for in this life, something worth our efforts and time, fitting of the term "better." He refers to the life of faith; I have tasted of it, but I want to see much more than I have what it really means to live for it.  

One Road

When I first read this book two summers ago, I was reading part of it to a 14-year-old boy as we sat on the playground. There wasn't much going on, so he asked me to read aloud. I was at the part where Piscine is exploring all the different religions, and as I read, I could tell that my friend, who had grown up in a pretty sheltered Christian environment, was uncomfortable. I stopped, and as we talked, he was wrestling with the way it seemed the author believed all roads lead to God. I told him that I also did not like this viewpoint but that I was still able to read the book and enjoy it, even though I didn't agree. I realized that day that a 14-year-old is not mature enough to read critically in this way.

If all roads lead to God and Piscine can expect to choose any one or a combination of them all, then Jesus' work on the cross is nullified, His resurrection has no meaning, and we can have no confidence in the faith we profess.

Going After Cacciato, a Bildungsroman

Yes, I believe Going After Cacciato is a Bildungsroman, because Paul Berlin is on a journey to "find himself," to grow up, to come to terms with a reality he before was scared to death of. I hesitated to answer this way because in some ways, it doesn't seem like our main character changes that much; the book ends with him wetting his pants in fear of what he's had to do in the war. Yet, I have to say he has still grown and changed, and enough to call the book a bildungsroman. One instance that shows this change is when he is, at the end of the book, given the opportunity to leave by Oscar Murphy and he doesn't. Oscar challenges him, tells him he doesn't think he can or should do it, but Paul Berlin stays. Sure, he still wets his pants, but he stayed and fought, without escaping even by means of imagination.

War is reality.

I felt that when hearing from Dr. O'Brien yesterday. It's messy and scary, but it's very very real and in some ways, a necessary condition of human existence, though an ugly one. I really liked how O'Brien explained that since man's sin nature is at a state of hatred toward one another so that, unless everyone becomes a Christian, there will always be war. It reminds me of Thomas Hobbes' description of the natural state of man. I found this quote: "Man is a wolf to other men." Though this truth is so ugly, it's so true. Hobbes argued that this is why we need government, in order to tame us. However, I believe that even in our civilized state, we still are willing to cheat and antagonize others if it means it'll benefit ourselves. This is why I agree with O'Brien and disagree with Hobbes, ultimately. Though we are at a state of war naturally, it's not just civilization and government that we need but Christ and His love that can transform us and allow us to love selflessly in return. It is obvious that O'Brien has been changed in this way, as evidenced by his humility coupled with gentle confidence. I really enjoyed hearing him speak, so thanks for inviting him. 

Like it more than I thought

I don't usually like books or even movies about war, but as it says the New York Times said about this book, "To call Going After Cacciato a novel about war is like calling Moby-Dick a novel about whales." The main character, Paul Berlin, is easy to relate to even as he is in situations I've never been in and probably never will be in. He is introspective and down-to-earth, and his commentary on situations is simple but vivid in detail and emotion at the same time. I also find it highly impressive when an author can switch between time frames from chapter to chapter and it still make sense. Tim O'Brien does a good job establishing the main story line and characters, alluding to other situations, then switching to those scenarios in present tense. His mix of reality and fantasy is seamless, and this shows the nature of war to produce a surreal environment at times. The way this novel is written really does make it, as the cliche goes, "a page-turner," and while we think we know what's going on at times, there are hidden surprises along the way that make us as the readers realize we can't have everything figured out yet. 

For one thing, I'm so off on my blogs! Sorry...

And another thing, I've thought longest about whether The Violent Bear It Away is a bildungsroman than most of the other novels. I've concluded it is, though it is vastly different than all of the others. The grotesqueness of the story forces readers to look beyond the surface level to see whether young Tarwater comes of age. Though I don't like the thing he becomes or the way he becomes it, he has changed remarkably. Because he returns to where the story begins, it could seem as though he has gone full circle. However, his return marks a change because he left not able to stand the place and with the desire to run far away from the things he experienced there. He thought he could go to Rayber, but then he was haunted by Old Tarwater all the more and strained by Rayber's efforts to change him. Though now more mentally ill than before, he has discovered that for him, he has no other place to go, no other thing to become than the prophet his great-uncle foretold. It is perhaps for the reader's benefit that the story stops where it is, for what Francis will become is frightening. On the other hand, maybe it would have been better for O'Connor to tell us: Our imaginations can only go to the extreme worst with the framework given. 

Natural Beauty in the Wilderness

While we talked about wilderness in class, I argued that there can still be some of the same aspects of adventure, risk, and feelings of smallness in the big city. This was my experience, as a Texas girl in New York City, this summer. I know there must be a difference. There is something different, a different side to us, that yearns for something beyond the city. I mulled over this later and decided natural beauty and lack of constraints are the biggest differences between city and wilderness. Natural beauty calls us to reflect and breathe deep, and this cannot really be found in cities formed by slabs of cement, no matter how many flowers and trees you plant. And while you can feel small in a city filled with millions of people and very tall buildings, it still does not compare to the insignificance experienced at the base of a mountain or at the edge of the ocean. To know these things were not created by man — and never could be — stirs awe and wonder, and a part of us comes alive at the thought of it, I believe.