Proposal and Annotations

            Meredith Hall’s poignant memoir, Without a Map, tells the story of her bizarre, sorrow-filled life, a life that could have—and almost certainly would have—been different, had she not gotten pregnant at 16, in 1965, coerced in to having “scared sex on a beach on a foggy Labor Day night” (Hall xxvii).  The story that follows is the story of a girl, shunned by her town, her friends, and slowly, eventually abandoned by her family, by first her mother, then her father.  Exiled, scared, and lonely, she makes her way out into the world, quite literally—world being the operative word—babyless and parentless, to live an extraordinary life woven with adventure, as well as stretches of monotony. 

                            I intend to examine the American idea of the family, how it has progressed, what it means now, how it is the common foundation for any person’s social binds, using Hall’s memoir as a building block for the exploration of the impacts of exile and disownment—the isolation of the human being from social ties, the most crucial and important of which being the institution of the family.  Although Hall lives, at least at times, an effervescent, vivacious life, a life that, when she is asked, she claims she wouldn’t choose differently, the effects of having been cast out from her originally intended life have repercussions that emanate most clearly, never entirely dissipating. 

            This topic is significant because the institution of family, although, like all institutions, is constantly in flux, ever-changing, it remains, always, the most important social tie to human development and evolution. 

            Hall’s memoir certainly stirs a complicated pot of emotions in regards to exile because of the fact that she turns out fine—better than fine, successful.  That brings about the question: was her shunning a negative thing?  My response to that is, yes, but there is no denying that positive value occurred, for Hall, due to her being forced out by her family and community, because she does seize a certain strength and self-confidence due to her unique situation; however, many of the pluses come from looking back on her life, through the act of actually writing the memoir.  One possible reason Hall looks back on her life, with the help of her writing, and says she wouldn’t change a thing, is that her, at the time, unbearable situation is what shapes the bravura life that she comes to discern as something that is her own, and that is inconceivably miraculous, in addition to heart-breaking.  So, should we strive to force people into harsh situations?  No, obviously not, but Hall's case shows that her being forced into this extraordinary situation is what caused her to rise above what she might previously have been, and to create a new, flourishing life for herself. 

Rocca, Corinne H., et al. "Pregnancy Intentions and Teenage Pregnancy Among Latinas: A Mediation Analysis." Perspectives on Sexual & Reproductive Health 42.3 (2010): 186-196. Academic Search Premier. EBSCO. Web. 19 Nov. 2010.

                        This article discusses the how wanted pregnancy is among teenagers, specifically referring to the fact that Latina women consider it to be more “favorable.”  The reason why I might use this article is that it comments strongly on the happiness of those involved, which is a key element to Meredith Hall’s memoir, Without a Map.

Gaudie, Jennifer, et al. "Antecedents of teenage pregnancy from a 14-year follow-up study using data linkage." BMC Public Health 10.(2010): 63-73. Academic Search Premier. EBSCO. Web. 19 Nov. 2010.

                        This article discusses the type of teenager that is statistically supposed to be most likely to become pregnant—in this case, according to what the article labels, “aggressive delinquents.”  This idea plays an important role in the stereotyping of teenagers who do, in fact, become pregnant as this certain type of socially inept person. 

Mendes, Philip. "Improving outcomes for teenage pregnancy and early parenthood for young people in out-of-home care." Youth Studies Australia 28.4 (2009): 11-18. Academic Search Premier. EBSCO. Web. 19 Nov. 2010.

                        This article focuses on the difficulties and “challenges” of early parenthood—something that Hall is denied because she is believed to be inadequate as a parent at her age of pregnancy, as well as other reasons.  This article also examines what dynamics lead to early pregnancy.  

Trost, Jan. "The Social Institution of Marriage." Journal of Comparative Family Studies 41.4 (2010): 507-514. Academic Search Premier. EBSCO. Web. 19 Nov. 2010.

                        This article focuses on the social institution of marriages and different living situations that are the foundations for family life.  It is an interesting article because it approaches the idea of other living situations, such as just moving in with a girlfriend or boyfriend, for instance, which is clearly relevant and important to Hall’s life and memoir.

Johansson, Jan, Bengt Andersson, and C. Philip Hwang. "What difference do different settings in residential care make for young people? A comparison of family-style homes and institutions in Sweden." International Journal of Social Welfare 17.1 (2008): 26-36. Academic Search Premier. EBSCO. Web. 19 Nov. 2010.

                        This article focuses on the different family settings in Sweden, whether it is a typical family setting, or a foster style care.  It is important to Hall’s memoir because it concentrates on the outcome of the children in terms of behavior that is deemed delinquent or socially inappropriate, in regards to what setting the child is brought up in.  

poem analysis 2

The poem I chose to analyze is Nate Marshall’s “Lebron James.”  I think that one particular literally element that stands out, in the poem, is the idea of the implied listener, “is there a ‘you’ to whom the poem is addressed?” (literary elements, 82).  I think, in this case, there certainly is, and it stands out in the first stanza, as Marshall proclaims:

                        and I am writing this for all those spectators who are watching

                        not by choice, but by hatred of those bastards in uniform. (Eleveld, 205-

                        206)

It seems as if Marshall is speaking to an audience of other kids about his age who are just trying to figure out what they want to do, or who they want to be.  He draws a strong comparison between himself and Lebron James, even going so far as to call himself Lebron James, all to make the statement that you should go out and do the best at what you do. That’s what people should be idolizing these sports heroes as, he argues, a model for the hard work and success that you could have at anything, whatever it is. He is basically saying, that these lost kids that is implied he is speaking towards, can use his self-analogy as a way to improve their view their on their own lives, that come up shy to Shaq in athletic prowess, by going out and laboring to have success in whatever it is that is theirs. 

            This literary style, the idea of the implied listener, works well, here, because Marshall alludes to his audience several times, but never truly unveils to whom he is speaking.  It could encompass a broad spectrum of people, because I don’t think that he is just talking specifically to only kids who can’t make the cut at tryouts, but it is perhaps implied that he would think the same thing of a young girl and  a celebrity actress, for instance. 

Blog Holiday

Without a Map: Family, Exile, Isolation, and Redemption: Final Paper Proposal

            Meredith Hall’s poignant memoir, Without a Map, tells the story of her bizarre, sorrow-filled life, a life that could have—and almost certainly would have—been different, had she not gotten pregnant at 16, in 1965, coerced in to having “scared sex on a beach on a foggy Labor Day night” (Hall xxvii).  The story that follows is the story of a girl, shunned by her town, her friends, and slowly, eventually abandoned by her family, by first her mother, then her father.  Exiled, scared, and lonely, she makes her way out into the world, quite literally—world being the operative word—babyless and parentless, to live an extraordinary life woven with adventure, as well as stretches of monotony. 

            I intend to examine the American idea of the family, how it has progressed, what it means now, how it is the common foundation for any person’s social binds, using Hall’s memoir as a building block for the exploration of the impacts of exile and disownment—the isolation of the human being from social ties, the most crucial and important of which being the institution of the family.  Although Hall lives, at least at times, an effervescent, vivacious life, a life that, when she is asked, she claims she wouldn’t choose differently, the effects of having been cast out from her originally intended life have repercussions that emanate most clearly, never entirely dissipating. 

            This topic is significant because the institution of family, although, like all institutions, is constantly in flux, ever-changing, it remains, always, the most important social tie to human development and evolution.  In Without a Map, Meredith and her first son are both incongruities from the norm (that I expect to find with research) in the sense that they both turn out well, considering their extreme childhood circumstances. 

Blog Post Six: What the f--

            The first day of class, I talked with our local poet about the absence of blogging in our lives.  The discussion, although brief, was steeped in skepticism, at least on my part, as I turned a weary eye to the deplorable 25 % that lay adjacent to the words “blog posts and comments” on the syllabus.  What was this new anomaly? I thought.  It was the enemy—my enemy—shrouded in ambiguity, an uncharted, unrefined territory.  Just what the hell is a blog exactly, anyway, eh?

 Eh?

 Admittedly, I was intimidated.  Due to a compilation of other syllabi, other classes, books, pens, calculators, all that bullshit, I admired this creature from a distance, taking an accidental holiday the first week.  The very first week…how moronic was I? 

Well, after pouring over class blogs of other, less timid, pioneers, I finally found the words to begin what has been an engaging, profound experience.

 Really, no joke.

 The works that we have covered, the discussions that we’ve had in class, and the entirely useful and advantageous journey into the blogging realm, has topped the highlight reel of my academic semester.  Granted, now, that that isn’t a very difficult thing to achieve, being that my other class selections were less-than-stimulating decisions.  But, 745, so far, has been a pleasure. 

The one thing, above all else, that I value in the blogs: the ability to be less formal and just plain more honest.  I’d compare it to when Rose talks about the disparity between his journalistic and novelistic tendencies, the fact that he can pour sentiment into his writing, rather than feel as though he cannot betray some stylistic, formal guideline.  The structure of essays, sometimes, can be too restrictive in the creative sense, whereas a blog or novel, in form, enables the author to extrapolate on their ideas in a highly relatable manner. 

Blog Five: Persepolis

            The first section of Marjane Satrapi’s memoir, Persepolis, entitled “The Veil,” is an opening glimpse into the story of a child growing up in the midst of chaotic disarray, being in Iran during the period of the Islamic Revolution.  Satrapi’s pictorial representation of her childhood is appropriate, as the graphic novel form arouses sentiments of childhood, in general, creating a connection between reader and the young heroine, no matter what age.  The content that Persepolis is based on—revolution, death, war, and pain—certainly isn’t light material, however the novel, at least in the beginning, possesses an amiable cartoonish embodiment.  Each picture tells a story, portrays a feeling, delving into the mind of a confused, scared but lovable little girl.  Satrapi says, “Everywhere in the streets there were demonstrations for and against the veil” (5).  In the picture below this, there is a dichotomy, a separation of black and white; on one side the demonstrators are veiled, shrouded in black, eyes shut tight, and on the other side there is the appearance of hair, open eyes, and dove-white turtle necks.  Both sides look angry, eyebrows slanting down in a sinister look of unadulterated frustration and discontent.  Hanging in the air above the veiled, printed cries for “the veil!” “the veil!” “the veil!”(5).  In opposition to that, the other side of the faceoff shouts “freedom!” “freedom!” “freedom!”(5).   Satrapi does an excellent job honing in on the disconnectedness of the situation, due to the pressures of living in a society torn by the not-so-invisible hand of a so-called “cultural revolution” (4).  She doesn’t understand why she has to wear the veil, the one that she does not want to wear, the one that is too hot to wear, too constrictive.  Satrapi’s ever-developing narrative with God separates her ideas of religion from the unwanted veil.  She has a very intimate relationship with God that isn’t rule-stricken or tyrannous, but rather healthy and personal.  The veil seems to be symbolic of the constraints and limitations that come with the Islamic Revolution, for Satrapi. 

           

Blog Post Four: Torture and Jack

Fernando Botero, Abu Ghraib 59, 2005. Image © Fernando Botero, courtesy Marlborough Gallery, New York.

The first thing I notice when I look at this painting isn’t the lingerie, the bruising, not the hands raised in defeat, in a plea for life, or the hoods covering the faceless men, or the pool of blood they suffer on, but the first thing I notice is the steady, arrogant stream of piss, the one that flows from the left, the least of their worries.

 This is wrong, it’s all wrong.  24 was mentioned in class.  This is different.  Jack Bauer is the ideal concerning the representation of torture; he does the unthinkable out of necessity and patronage, not to achieve personal satisfaction and a good laugh.  Would we really look at Jack the same way if he was hovering over his victim, one hand holding an electrical clamp attached to his victim’s nipple, the other sporting a Kodak digital, grinning from ear-to-ear?  Jack is a ghost, an impossibility.  People like him don’t exist, emotionally devoid, perfect, machine, untouchable. 

It would be easier to support torture—solely for the purpose of information—if situations of national security were at hand and the person bringing up the reigns was Jack, but that isn’t, it seems, the case. 

This painting is miserable, tough to look at, but it still doesn’t compare to seeing the real image, the real photographs of Americans amusing themselves at the expense of their prisoners, in unmistakable, unimaginable ways. 

"Yet Botero, by tackling this imagery in a focused and extended series, has demonstrated not only that such things can be represented in art but also that a figurative, cartoonish idiom may be the most powerful means of representing modern atrocity."  

I disagree with this idea that a “cartoonish idiom may be the most powerful means of representing modern atrocity.”  There is nothing more powerful than seeing the real thing, in its raw, natural state. It is what draws people to such sites as rotten.com, or the Faces of Death video series, if these depictions can be called attractions.  They’re so repulsive, the word attraction seems inappropriate, misplaced.  So, yes, Botero’s paintings are a very powerful representation of modern atrocity, but nothing compares to the influence of the real thing, unneutered.