This is the class blog for Professor McRae's Senior Seminar for Fall 2014. Play with it! Love it! Hate it! Write stuff on it!
Sunday, October 5, 2014
The unhappiest shaved kitty on earth.
Thumper
"Hey Pretty," by Poe, from the album Haunted. Just in case you thought that at least House of Leaves hadn't seeped into absolutely everything, Mark Danielewski is Poe's brother. The voiceover and text in this video are him reading from of House of Leaves (pp 88-89, to be exact. Tuesday's reading. Freaky coincidence! This book--it is everywhere! I came into Fenton to work today--Sunday, stood in the entrance looking down the long, empty corridor, and felt a little freaked out. The album Haunted, is a companion piece to the book. You can find the songs on youtube.
I'm not sure what to do with this book yet. I think it's a matter of perspective, in the strictest sense--it's important not to try and hold it too closely, to micro-analyze it. For one thing, that's impossible, and trying will cause English Major Head Implosion. There are a bazillion things to analyze on every page, and the nested academic footnotes and welter of real and fake references don't help either. This book mocks all attempts at doing what it is we think we're supposed to do with books.
On the other hand, holding it too far away, assuming it doesn't make sense, doesn't mean anything and is just there to thwart and annoy us, also misses the point. It is, if nothing else, beautifully made. The pieces do all fit together, reflect and echo and complement each other--even the digressions. Zampano's long and absurdly academic digression on the topic of "Echo somewhere between pp 44-54, for example, describes exactly what it is we try to do when we navigate any kind of unfamiliar space, architectural or intellectual--make a sound and wait for something to come back to us. Even though an echo isn't real communication, strictly speaking, it is at least signals depth and boundaries. All the stuff about labyrinths makes perfect sense too. A labyrinth is an architectural structure which is also a mystery--and a very dangerous one if there happen to be any minotaurs hanging out in the center of them.
The whole discussion of the uncanny on pp 24-25 is somewhat helpful too--the unheimlich is that which is not home, not comforting, not safe--the things that look like those things, but aren't. That's pretty much exactly how most horror tropes work--haunted houses, monsters. They're just versions of us and our fears and desires, really.
This book does tell us how to read it. There's a plot we can follow, a fairly small cast of characters, a sort of narrative consistency. Johnny's crazy, as it turns out, has a history.
What I'm noticing are all the little echoes in the book, all the parallels between Johnny's narrative and Zampano's writeup of the Navidson Record, the academic digressions and the main plot. But most of all, I'm pretty sure that the house and the book echo each other. One of the definitions of 'leaf' is "a single sheet of paper, a page from a book. A house of leaves is an uncanny piece of architecture with doorways, corridors, and spaces that defy the laws of physics, which haunt a family. A book is also a house of leaves, opening up impossible worlds for its reader. OK, so tell me. What are your thoughts? What is your way in to this book? What do you notice?
Whenever I hear the term end phrase "and they lived happily ever" the cynical part of me always asks "But do they really?". Our definition of happiness and living a life that one can consider full and happy is both individualistic. Reading both Skylar and Melisa's posts, along with Happy Endings by Margaret Atwood, I see how ones definition of a good "happy" ending versus the "unhappy" endings can be very different. This leads me into an idea I have grappled with, being the idea that the ending of a life can be considered happy. This born to die motif that both Melisa and Skylar touch on is interesting and I find myself questioning my own ideas of death. Of course death is sad and I fear death but this does not take away the possibility of happiness in an ending. Yes John and Mary will eventually die. But this fact does not change the lives of the individuals. Each story centers around life. Call my naïve but this common thread between the stories, a commentary of life, as Skylar points out, has a message about the living, not the dead. I think these stories, while they all end with eventual death of the characters, speaks about the deepness or shallowness of a life. And while its sad and scary you can't stop living your life. These lives that the individual characters lead some may not be considered happy or fulfilling to some but that does not seem to matter. Each still ends with a "happily ever after". This brings the thought I mentioned in the beginning of the post, that happiness is individualistic. While one reader may see story A as sad, being the characters lives are boring, another may find happiness in simplicity of their lives. It is interesting to see others ideas of what "happiness" truly is and I think Melisa's idea of bringing this story into a classroom setting would create interesting discussion.
No matter what way I read “Happy
Endings” I found it satirical. I thought it was mocking how anyone can honestly
believe they will have a simple “happy ending” to their life or lives. I think
the style Atwood chose to use is in direct contrast to her satirical style. As
I read “A” it was more of a list than anything. It is supposed to be the most
“happy ending” however Atwood’s syntax and diction lead me to read it
sarcastically. Like life is this, this, and this; then we die.
I think Atwood’s main idea was that
no matter what we do in our lives from life to death, in the end we all die;
“You'll have to face it, the endings are the same however you slice it. Don't
be deluded by any other endings, they're all fake, either deliberately fake,
with malicious intent to deceive, or just motivated by excessive optimism if
not by downright sentimentality. The only authentic ending is the one provided
here: John and Mary die. John and Mary
die. John and Mary die.”
I agree with Alex that it’s hard to
get over the discomfort of not reading a traditional piece and that it is up to
us to take the story wherever we want. I think we can compare this story with
life itself, its up to us to pick the path we want to go down, but doing so,
finding the how and why is not always going to be so simple like in “A”.
I also agree that the technical
format is extremely important. Like Alex said, there is no cloud of detail to
wade through making each character very concise. This is real and allows us to
see the desires and hopes of each character. Without the use of poetic
descriptions we can focus all our attentions strictly on the characters. Also
there is no single setting or plot. This pushes me to zone in more on the
characters as well. Atwood’s characters names are also very boring and typical;
this allows me to be whomever I want in the story. It makes the stories more
relatable you could say, but it also forces the reader to not get attached to
any one character and just understand the idea behind the story.
The story ends with “F” where
Atwood is challenging the reader to make up his or her own ending. She is being
sarcastic saying “make John a revolutionary and Mary a counterespionage agent
and see how far that gets you”. This backs up my idea of this piece being
satirical.
Alex, I agree with you. I think this story does serve as a life lesson to the reader. I first read this story in my form and theory class, and I considered it more of a tool for fiction writers than as literature. However, now that I am re reading it and analyzing it, I see it as both a commentary on the writing process, and a commentary on literature.
I found it interesting when you said, “There is no overarching traditionalist form like is seen in literature for centuries.”. “Happy Endings” is so wildly different than traditional stories because of it’s unique formula. There is no direct and visible climax in the story as whole, although one could argue that each individual section has a climax. The sections that make up the story also lack development. “Happy Endings” reads more as an outline for a short story than one itself, which I think is Atwood’s main point. Sarcasm is also something Atwood plays around with a lot. From the first paragraph “A” the readers know Atwood’s sarcastic tone. Section “A” is just way too good to be true. Because of the brevity and lack of development section “C” has a dramatic tone to me. The use of such generic names also add to the sarcasm. It’s like Atwood is poking fun at her characters and the various directions short stories usually go in.
I also like what you said about the story exposing parts of the human condition. I think Atwood does this for a reason. She shows her readers various emotions in each section to represent how humans are emotionally evolving. In “Happy Endings”, Atwood tells us that the beginnings of stories are much more important and exciting than endings. I don't know if I would have agreed with Atwood before reading, “Happy Endings”. One of the things “Happy Endings” does is prove this. I also think it’s interesting to note the theme of happiness. The only section of the story that if completely happy is section “A”. Characters in the other sections are generally unhappy, however are happy at the end, thus the story’s title. Because of this, Atwell shows us how truly boring endings can be. She suggests that in a way, the readers already know the ending to a story- the characters die. “Happy Endings” show us that the ways in which we reach the ending are much more interesting than the endings themselves.
“Happy Endings” struck me as a
commentary both on writing and on how people act. We discussed the significance
of form thoroughly in class, but I want to delve into the format a bit deeper.
The idea that a story can be changed simply by skipping a part (in this case a
numbered section) and substituting it with another, is rather interesting to
me. It sounds so simple, but a few choice words can change meaning drastically.
This is made blatantly clear in
section “E”, where Atwood suggests that if the reader is not satisfied with the
story as it is, he can simply substitute four phrases and the story is
completely different. The sad but hopeful tone is changed to gloomy and
uncomfortable with the substitution of a few words.
Getting back to the first point, so
much literature stands as a monolithic unified force that it is off-putting to
see it as malleable as it is here. If the reader chooses, he can simple pick a
random section and be done with it. There is no overarching traditionalist form
like is seen in literature for centuries. After I got over this initial
discomfort, I was able to embrace it and play with the story. It is interesting
to read the passages out of order, to see where and how they meld together.
The technical format of the story
is certainly important, but I think the content is even more significant. All
of these stories, whether they are written well or not, express the hopes and
desires of people that might as well be real. There is no cloud of details to
wade through. Instead, they are very concise, focusing almost strictly on
character.
“B” showcases the fall of a woman
lacking ambition and too scared to change to know when she is being taken
advantage of. “C” describes a love triangle born of boredom and ending in
bloody jealously. They all give a snapshot of the human condition, whether it is
good or bad. I would argue that they do in fact work as life lessons to the
reader.