About cc154242

5081190220009120

Mr. St. Petersburg: Kafka’s ego?

Cindy Chan

It’s difficult to make definitive statements when analyzing The Judgment, for Kafka prized ambiguity over plot continuity. It’s no surprise that there are various interpretations of the characters and their significance in this story.

At first blush, the friend in St. Petersburg seems to have an unexpectedly significant influence over Georg and his relationships with his father and fiancee. Upon closer inspection, one may surmise that Mr. St. Petersburg is Kafka’s ego in a way. The friend has “virtually fled” to Russia, perhaps doing so to flee judgment, he is not successful, and has settled for the bachelor life. All of these attributes are reflected in Kafka on a subliminal level. Kafka resented his father’s disapproval of his writing. Although Kafka was successful as a senior executive at an insurance company, it was not the kind of success that satisfied him. Kafka was also torn by the notion that marriage was a betrayal of his literary lifestyle.

In the same vein, Georg and his father may also be interpreted as Kafka’s other alter egos. Georg may be seen as the part of Kafka desperately clinging to the concept of a normal, married life. On the other hand, Georg’s father may be seen as the part of Kafka that reprimands the part that dares to forsake art for normality.

I believe some of the many calculated points of ambiguity and plot discontinuity in the story lend credibility to this interpretation:

  • “If you have such friend, Georg, you should never have gotten engaged in the first place.” (61)
    • This statement, which veers startling from the flow of the conversation, is perhaps a reflection of Kafka’s view on marriage.
  • Why was George compelled to tell his father about a matter as trivial as a letter to a distant friend? Perhaps this development was to set the stage for the three way struggle (in a sense) between Georg, his friend, and his father.
  • “…in order to satisfy your lust with her unhampered, you disgraced our mother’s memory, betrayed your friend, and put your father to bed so that he can’t move. But he can move or can’t he?” (69)
    • This may reflect Kafka’s unshakable feeling that romance betrays his passion for writing.
  • “…he knows everything a hundred times better than you do yourself…” (70)
    • This may suggest that the part of Kafka that values literature outweighs the part of him that yearns for companionship.

 

I Am an Honest man

Cindy Chan


I Am an Honest Man

I am an honest man
From where the palm grows
And before I die I wish
To fling my verses from my soul.

Out of the gate, Martí sets the tone for the rest of the poem — raw, poignant, and sincere.

I come from everywhere
And I am going toward everywhere:

Martí is a man who’s seen many things and been to many places.

Among the arts, I am art
In the mountains, I am a mountain.

He is one with all that he experiences. Martí is empathetic.

I know the strange names
of the herbs and flowers
And of mortal deceits
And of sublime pains.

He is familiar with the nature and of all living things, be they plants or human.

I have seen in the dark night
Rain over my head
The pure rays of lightning
Of divine beauty.

He has seen hope in his darkest of times.

I saw wings born in men
Of beautiful women:
And coming out of rubbish
Butterflies flying.

He provides symbols of hope.

I have seen a man live
With his dagger at his side,
Without ever saying the name
Of she who had killed him.

He knew a man who never spoke of the woman that broke his heart.

Rapid, like a reflection,
I saw my soul, twice
When the poor old man died,
When she said good-bye to me.

He recalls the events that rocked him to the core: his father’s death and his lover’s departure.

I trembled once–at the fence,
At the entrance to the vineyard–
When a barbarous bee
Stung my daughter in the forehead.

He remembers the time the fear he felt when his daughter was stung by a bee. This perhaps to alludes to Spain’s attack on Cuba.

I felt joy once, such that
Nobody ever felt such joy: when
The mayor read the sentence
Of my death, crying.

He felt the greatest joy imaginable when he knew of his eventual martyrdom.

I hear a sigh, across
The lands and the sea
And it is not a sigh, it is
That my son is going to wake up.

He hears the people’s despair, then he realizes it’s instead the rousing of a nation from its slumber.

They say that from the jeweler
I took the best jewel,
I took a sincere friend
And left love aside.

He has gained the treasure of friendship, which he values more than romantic love.

This poem is fraught with patriotic and intimate sentiments. Martí never explicitly expressed his political beliefs, yet we can sense their manifestation in his exploration of the human emotions. These are the cries of a man who loves and fears for his country.

N.B. This poem is not printed in its entirety in the anthology.

 

 

Olympe de Gouges: The Rights of Woman (Cindy Chan)

Near the end of the eighteenth century, France was reinventing itself. The yawning gap between the nobility and the common people sparked a revolution that redefined the French government. This autonomous government was bent on dissolving social barriers and ruling based on reason rather than tradition, among many other revolutionary ideas. Above the fray rang a singular and fierce voice that dared to out-revolutionize the rest of the nation.
 
Olympe de Gouges was a self made playwright and Parisian intellect born in the third estate. The Rights of Woman (1791), published on the heels of the Declaration of the Rights of Man and of the Citizen (1789), was her attempt to break down gender barriers. Unfortunately, her beliefs proved too much for her time and led to her death at the guillotine in 1793.
The Rights of Woman tests the integrity of the Declaration of the Rights of Man and of the Citizen by echoing much of the latter’s enumerated articles. Article X, which is perhaps the embodiment of the document, argues that since woman has the right to be punished for her crimes, she must also have the right to speak publicly about her beliefs.
Essentially, Gouges raises reasonable yet progressive questions in this document:
  • Does the revolution address the rights of women? (Article I)
  • Why are women unrepresented when half of the nation and workforce is made up of them? (Article VI, XIII, XVI)
  • Why are women unable to claim their own property? (XVII)
Gouges also addresses hypocrisy…
  • A child born out of wedlock has no legal protection, while a bastard child does. (Article XI)
These points must have compelled one to reexamine the position of women in the French revolution. However, her ambitions were too early for her time, and Gouges may have been overzealous in her indignation for her sex. This was evident in her incendiary language in both the preamble and postamble.
At this point in time, we can see that many of Gouges’ concerns have been met. However, I believe further progress can be made, as women are still paid less than men in the workplace.

Cindy Chan – Candide

Candide begins lightheartedly, then almost immediately gives way to caustic satire and morbidity. As I follow Candide in his misfortunes, I wonder if Voltaire wasn’t a bit too cynical in personal life.

Amid all the inhumanity stands a man that can seem to do no wrong. In a way, Candide’s naivete and philosophical curiosity grant us reprieves from his misfortunes. In pitting Candide against the most gruesome of adversities, Voltaire seems to test the limits of Leibniz’s determinism. He thus paints a world in which all is black or white, evil or good.
Or so it seems.
Occasionally, Voltaire suggests a darkness in Candide that is seemingly unpreventable. He does so by touting Candide’s goodness (especially in juxtaposition to the evil) which ultimately has the opposite and curious effect of sarcasm. This can be seen in the following excerpts:
“But our good Westphalian had received from the old woman, along with his suit of clothes, a fine sword. Out it came, and though his manners were of the gentlest, in short order he laid the Israelite stiff and cold on the floor, at the feet of the lovely Cunegonde.” 
 
“I have killed my old master, my friend, my brother-in-law; I am the best man in the world, and here are three men I’ve killed already, and two of them were priests.”
Yet, despite each crime, there was always someone who unhesitatingly gave Candide a helping hand, which only reaffirmed the reader’s belief that Candide can do no wrong.
We live in a world where people believe themselves to be right and others to be less right. In reality, embedded in each moral act is something corrupt and vice versa. The good and the malevolent are inseparable.