So... I'm not really sure where I stand on these discussions we're having in class. The whole idea of the blurry line between fiction and history is kind of complicated for me, and it seems like every time someone presents evidence against that idea, it can easily be spun to support it. It just depends on how you look at it, and I guess that conclusion is kind of bothering me.
Sometimes I just like it when things are absolute, when there's a clear dividing line between what you can and cannot do when it comes to history or a novel. But... Doctorow kind of broke me of that somehow. His subtle critique of the early 1900s was a brilliant shock to my system, but now I'm struggling with this internal argument over whether or not I like what he's doing. In my earlier posts I think I did, but after reading "False Documents" and the small snippet of that interview, I feel like Doctorow is more arguing for the idea that there is no line between history and fiction and he can kind of do what he wants no matter the consequences.
And I'm just not sure I'm comfortable with that anymore. I like what he did with it in his novel. I thought the things he did with Morgan and Ford were so brilliant -- I mean, how can we really know if that happened or not? While discussing the reactions the Ford historical society had, I was of the mind that they were being kind of silly. It's just a book, and it's not like Doctorow did it in a malicious way. It kind of seemed to me that after he wrote it he kind of shrugged and said, "just sayin'."
In other words, I like the way he uses history and fiction in the novel. They compliment each other nicely. But the idea in general that there is no line between history and fiction, that "there is no truth!" as Mr. Mitchell would say and wave his hands in the air, is kind of weird to me. As someone who's fond of history and who wrote their painfully tedious historiographical essay, I'm familiar with historical bias. It's just a natural part of the subject, and it can even help tell the story in some cases. And as someone who's a lover of fiction, I know that sometimes what's written in a novel can be even truer and more powerful than history can, but to say that nothing stands between them can be so dangerous!
I'm kind of a middle of the road person in life, and I guess that's where I am here too. I don't think there's a clear line between history and fiction. I don't think there's no line either. I think there's overlap, but we shouldn't get carried away with our overlap. I think someone said that was like giving the man who denies the Holocaust complete license to do so, which just doesn't seem right.
Tuesday, January 31, 2012
Wednesday, January 25, 2012
Pools
I really enjoyed the discussion we had in class today, and while I'm kind of afraid to delve into our nice, long, packet of reading on the subject just yet, I'm sure I'll enjoy that, too. Basically, the main question was, was I irked/bugged/offended by how Doctorow essentially steals Coalhouse Walker from Heinrich von Kleist's story? No, I'm really not.
For one thing, I don't think "steals" is exactly the right word. Stealing implies plagiarism, and this definitely doesn't seem like plagiarism to me. Doctorow puts Coalhouse in a completely different context. In Kleist's narrative, it seems to be just a struggle of class: the rich man abusing the poor man, and so on and so forth. In Ragtime, however, Doctorow kind of reverses that. Coalhouse is an upstanding citizen, he's a musician in Harlem, a pretty worldly guy, while Fire Chief Conklin is widely accepted as a thug. Coalhouse is clearly Conklin's superior in all aspects, except for one, and that is race. Conklin is angry because a black man is his superior, so he destroys Coalhouse's car on the spot. In the Kleist story, the horses are "allowed to deteriorate into a woeful state." Not that I don't love horses and that's not a terrible thing, it just doesn't have the same kind of weight (and maybe I say that because I'm a horse person and I know horses are unbelievably temperamental and can deteriorate from just about anything). In any case, it's obvious that there are very clear differences between the Doctorow version and the Kleist version of the story, and I definitely would not classify it as plagiarism.
On another note, I ask the question, how is what Doctorow does with Coalhouse any different than what he does with his other characters? Doctorow draws from the pool of historical fact quite frequently and spins it to make it his own, so why can't he draw from the pool of literature and spin it to make it his own? If you're going to get mad at Doctorow for plagiarizing Kleist, then you have to get mad at him for, I don't know, screwing with the historical record. The point was raised that people get angry with Doctorow for twisting historical fact because it changes perspectives on the people that actually existed. But is that negative? I don't really think so.
Doctorow picks characters, I think, anyway, that he can flesh out and make his own because nobody really knows the other side of them. Take Harry Houdini, for example. Everyone knows he was an escape artist, but no one really knows what his personal life was like unless they're willing to do research and read the entire Wikipedia article. Doctorow is capable of taking these historical figures and creating this believable, yet fictional scenes because nobody really knows what was actually going on inside their heads, or behind the scenes at a Mrs. Stuyvesant Fish party, or 12 stories up in a straight jacket. Doctorow fleshes them out, he gives previously "dead" historical figures new life and emotions, he changes our perspectives on them, but not necessarily in a bad way. None of his caricatures are particularly malicious, he just makes them more believable as people.
For one thing, I don't think "steals" is exactly the right word. Stealing implies plagiarism, and this definitely doesn't seem like plagiarism to me. Doctorow puts Coalhouse in a completely different context. In Kleist's narrative, it seems to be just a struggle of class: the rich man abusing the poor man, and so on and so forth. In Ragtime, however, Doctorow kind of reverses that. Coalhouse is an upstanding citizen, he's a musician in Harlem, a pretty worldly guy, while Fire Chief Conklin is widely accepted as a thug. Coalhouse is clearly Conklin's superior in all aspects, except for one, and that is race. Conklin is angry because a black man is his superior, so he destroys Coalhouse's car on the spot. In the Kleist story, the horses are "allowed to deteriorate into a woeful state." Not that I don't love horses and that's not a terrible thing, it just doesn't have the same kind of weight (and maybe I say that because I'm a horse person and I know horses are unbelievably temperamental and can deteriorate from just about anything). In any case, it's obvious that there are very clear differences between the Doctorow version and the Kleist version of the story, and I definitely would not classify it as plagiarism.
On another note, I ask the question, how is what Doctorow does with Coalhouse any different than what he does with his other characters? Doctorow draws from the pool of historical fact quite frequently and spins it to make it his own, so why can't he draw from the pool of literature and spin it to make it his own? If you're going to get mad at Doctorow for plagiarizing Kleist, then you have to get mad at him for, I don't know, screwing with the historical record. The point was raised that people get angry with Doctorow for twisting historical fact because it changes perspectives on the people that actually existed. But is that negative? I don't really think so.
Doctorow picks characters, I think, anyway, that he can flesh out and make his own because nobody really knows the other side of them. Take Harry Houdini, for example. Everyone knows he was an escape artist, but no one really knows what his personal life was like unless they're willing to do research and read the entire Wikipedia article. Doctorow is capable of taking these historical figures and creating this believable, yet fictional scenes because nobody really knows what was actually going on inside their heads, or behind the scenes at a Mrs. Stuyvesant Fish party, or 12 stories up in a straight jacket. Doctorow fleshes them out, he gives previously "dead" historical figures new life and emotions, he changes our perspectives on them, but not necessarily in a bad way. None of his caricatures are particularly malicious, he just makes them more believable as people.
Tuesday, January 24, 2012
J.P.
I take issue with J.P. Morgan on many occasions. Firstly and unrelated-ly, he charges me a butt load when I want to take money out of my account from an ATM without his name on it. Come on, man, that's hardly fair -- you claim to be so rich already, why do you need a 2 dollar service charge?
I guess it is Morgan's library, full of his wonderful, invaluable treasures, but you'd think somehow he'd take pity on Coalhouse. Coalhouse is more articulate than Henry Ford, and certainly better dressed -- you can see Coalhouse frowning upon L.L. Bean shoes, can't you? Coalhouse is a musician, so he must have some appreciation for art, whereas Ford has absolutely none -- "Fancy Paintings," anyone? It just seems to me that Coalhouse and Morgan are both on a higher level than Ford. Coalhouse isn't an industrial genius, but he's certainly got a lot more class, and there's nothing to say he does most of his thinking on the toilet, so I was holding out for that random Doctorow plot twist that would have Morgan inviting Coalhouse to join the Pyramid society and everyone lives happily ever after.
Needless to say, when I didn't get that ending, I was upset with Morgan. I'll probably remain upset with him until I get another chapter with him playing hide-and-seek in the sarcophagus with Ford. Maybe I'm reading too much into him as a character, maybe Doctorow meant him to seem like a jerk all the time, maybe I'll forgive him the telegram eventually, but I won't forgive the ATM thing. That's just ridiculous.
More importantly, he frustrates me in this novel. I'm not really sure how we're supposed to view J.P. Morgan as a character. Is he being treated ironically, or are we supposed to be taking him seriously? Doctorow seems to change his mind a lot about it. When Morgan was introduced, Doctorow presented him in this kind of distant, godly light. But then... Doctorow had him meet Henry Ford, and Morgan shed his aura of superiority and authority. It seems like Doctorow's stripping him down, leaving us with this picture more akin to a little boy who's super excited to show off his tree house to some random kid than the man at the top of business pyramid.
Don't get me wrong -- I definitely like the childish Morgan better than the business man. That's probably why it surprised me so much when he sent that telegram to the District Attorney:
Give him his automobile and hang him. (287)Maybe I'm wrong, but it just seemed a little bit harsh for him to be saying that after we see him slumped in his chair full of childish disappointment when Ford blows him off. This isn't strictly speaking an academic observation, but he just seems like such a little cutie when he's forming the Pyramid Society, and then this telegram totally shatters that image for me.
I guess it is Morgan's library, full of his wonderful, invaluable treasures, but you'd think somehow he'd take pity on Coalhouse. Coalhouse is more articulate than Henry Ford, and certainly better dressed -- you can see Coalhouse frowning upon L.L. Bean shoes, can't you? Coalhouse is a musician, so he must have some appreciation for art, whereas Ford has absolutely none -- "Fancy Paintings," anyone? It just seems to me that Coalhouse and Morgan are both on a higher level than Ford. Coalhouse isn't an industrial genius, but he's certainly got a lot more class, and there's nothing to say he does most of his thinking on the toilet, so I was holding out for that random Doctorow plot twist that would have Morgan inviting Coalhouse to join the Pyramid society and everyone lives happily ever after.
Needless to say, when I didn't get that ending, I was upset with Morgan. I'll probably remain upset with him until I get another chapter with him playing hide-and-seek in the sarcophagus with Ford. Maybe I'm reading too much into him as a character, maybe Doctorow meant him to seem like a jerk all the time, maybe I'll forgive him the telegram eventually, but I won't forgive the ATM thing. That's just ridiculous.
Sunday, January 15, 2012
First Impressions
Let me be frank: I don't think I've regularly kept up with reading assignments in an English class since we read the Joy Luck Club in Freshman English. Even then, I read the entire book in a day, which wasn't really following instructions either. That being said, I've surprised myself and everyone in my family by actually staying on top of the readings for Ragtime. I don't know what exactly it is, but I'm seriously loving this book!
Some of my classmates don't feel the same way, as I've found out rather awkwardly after professing my love for the novel only to have them stare and respond flatly that they disagree, but it's given me some opportunity to think about why exactly I like Ragtime as much as do.
First, I'm quite fond of Doctorow's writing style. Normally, I'm a comma fanatic; I'm used to reading things more akin to Lord of the Rings where you can sit and read for an hour only to find you're still on the same sentence you were when you started. So I guess there's something refreshing for me about Doctorow's simple, comma-less sentences. It's straight to the point without being to the point, (which I'll get to later), and it moves quickly!
I think, overall, Ragtime has been kind of funny. I love the voice of the narrator. It's so detached and obviously ironic that I can't help but smile. I imagine Doctorow sitting at a desk chuckling to himself as he's writing. I was reading last night the part where Grandfather is telling the little boy stories, and he slips in and out of Latin and English because he thinks he's giving a lecture. It's not like I burst into tears of laughter, but it certainly made me smile.
I also really like how Doctorow treats his characters. He pulls them from history and gives them a new story just because he can -- and I admire that somehow, as well as the huge amount of research he must have done. I also like how he manages to bring them all together, real and imaginary, (Evelyn and Mother's Younger Brother, anyone?) and makes a giant web of interesting, interconnected plot lines. My two favorite characters would probably be Houdini and Henry Ford. I thought Ford's introduction to the story was exceedingly clever -- I love that entire chapter, which kind of brings me to my next point.
Doctorow is pretty good at compiling a bunch of seemingly unrelated sentences together into a huge, chapter-long paragraph. He seems to mix things that don't matter in with things that do matter, and the chapter about Henry Ford is a perfect example. I think Doctorow is somehow able to put a positive spin on Ford's character by doing this -- which, is pretty impressive considering he was a raging racist and Nazi sympathizer. In particular, I liked this part:
Overall, I think Doctorow is a very talented writer. He makes me laugh, he keeps me interested in what he has to say. I've always been a fan of historical fiction, but Ragtime is something completely unique and new to me. I can honestly say I'm really interested in where this book is going to take me next!
Some of my classmates don't feel the same way, as I've found out rather awkwardly after professing my love for the novel only to have them stare and respond flatly that they disagree, but it's given me some opportunity to think about why exactly I like Ragtime as much as do.
First, I'm quite fond of Doctorow's writing style. Normally, I'm a comma fanatic; I'm used to reading things more akin to Lord of the Rings where you can sit and read for an hour only to find you're still on the same sentence you were when you started. So I guess there's something refreshing for me about Doctorow's simple, comma-less sentences. It's straight to the point without being to the point, (which I'll get to later), and it moves quickly!
I think, overall, Ragtime has been kind of funny. I love the voice of the narrator. It's so detached and obviously ironic that I can't help but smile. I imagine Doctorow sitting at a desk chuckling to himself as he's writing. I was reading last night the part where Grandfather is telling the little boy stories, and he slips in and out of Latin and English because he thinks he's giving a lecture. It's not like I burst into tears of laughter, but it certainly made me smile.
I also really like how Doctorow treats his characters. He pulls them from history and gives them a new story just because he can -- and I admire that somehow, as well as the huge amount of research he must have done. I also like how he manages to bring them all together, real and imaginary, (Evelyn and Mother's Younger Brother, anyone?) and makes a giant web of interesting, interconnected plot lines. My two favorite characters would probably be Houdini and Henry Ford. I thought Ford's introduction to the story was exceedingly clever -- I love that entire chapter, which kind of brings me to my next point.
Doctorow is pretty good at compiling a bunch of seemingly unrelated sentences together into a huge, chapter-long paragraph. He seems to mix things that don't matter in with things that do matter, and the chapter about Henry Ford is a perfect example. I think Doctorow is somehow able to put a positive spin on Ford's character by doing this -- which, is pretty impressive considering he was a raging racist and Nazi sympathizer. In particular, I liked this part:
He had a way with words. He had gotten his inspiration from a visit to a beef-packing concern where cows were swung through the plant hanging in slings from overhead cables. With his tongue he moved the straw from one corner of his mouth to the other. He looked at his watch again. Part of his genius consisted of seeming to his executives and competitors not as quick-witted as they. He brushed the grass with the tip of his shoe. (135)Obviously important to the picture of Henry Ford is that he got his inspiration from the beef-packing plant and that he pretended to be stupid in the face of his competitors. Doctorow surrounds those points with seemingly less-important information about his watch and his way with words and the grass and the shoe and whatever, but I don't think it's useless at all! I think it helps paint an even more complete picture of Ford by showing us his mannerisms and how he thinks.
Overall, I think Doctorow is a very talented writer. He makes me laugh, he keeps me interested in what he has to say. I've always been a fan of historical fiction, but Ragtime is something completely unique and new to me. I can honestly say I'm really interested in where this book is going to take me next!
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