Blog Posting #10- Relections on Pynchon's Against the Day

I think tedious best describes this novel. Tedious in its multi-plots, already innumerable characters and seemingly unregulated rambling running into the back of and charging ahead of what can best be characterized as the natural pace of the novel. Of the different plots delved into so far, there are certainly some that are much more interesting than others. This is the case of the Chums of Chance and their delightfully-intriguing adventures from the Columbian Exposition to the icy, polar-regions of the North and the skies on high. It is the aeronaut stories which I naturally focus much more on, especially when compared to the boring toils of Webb Traverse on terra firma.

The technologies that the Chums of Chance air squadron possesses are indeed amazing to behold. Airships, for example that glide through the fluid that is the air adds a level of novelty to the story that makes this plot track enjoyable to follow because it evokes so many question in my mind. What is the aether, for example? It appears to be some sort of bizarre material manifestation within the realities of the novel tantamount to that of dark matter in our real world. But why do people want to understand it, why do they want to trace its lines of manifestation in the skies? As strange as these events are they certainly evoke a feeling of the uncanny; reminding me of the World War I dogfights high in the sky, the Red Baron, and antique nautical cartography, and so on. Yet, they are flying in airships, what I envision as boats only in the air with a highly complicated metaphysical navigation system and some form of clockwork electrical mechanization.

One similarity I observed between Pynchon’s Against the Day and S.M. Peter’s Whitechapel Gods is the incorporation of metaphysical science. That is sciences, eerily similar to those we study in class, only with a heightened abstract aspect. In the case of Peters, the metaphysical is characterized by an out-of-body-experience feeling, where a character enters some other dimension where incorporeal beings, gods in the novel, dwell. For Pynchon, the metaphysical, among many other instances, is made evident in the concept of the aether as well as the strange dimensional distortions surrounding the mysterious ‘alien crypt’. It appears that there is some metaphysical association with electricity, magnetism and the physics of light.
Ultimately, the novel may prove much more rewarding as I progress beyond the first two hundred pages. I eagerly await to see further development of the character-rich, and dynamic interactions of the comrades onboard the Inconvenience. And let’s not forget the taking dog, Pugnax, as well.

Blog Entry #9- Caesar's Column (15-end)

In the second half of Donnelly’s novel, the plot undergoes many changes beyond the scope of the daily toils of Maximilian, Gabriel, and Estella. The novel opens up to the greater questions associated with civilization’s progression, and begins to incorporate the main characters, including Christina, into the global final act that is the fall of the world’s empires.

Interestingly enough the novel spends a disproportionately large amount of time detailing the meeting and ultimate marriage between Maximilian and Christine. Why are four chapters are dedicated completely to this side plot, yet the relationship between Gabriel and Estella is only briefly mentioned here and there? There appears to be something more significant to the former love story. The story of Christine could be developed into a separate story if so desired, and certainly details the realities of the social situation. What is Donnelly saying by introducing a character as pure and uncorrupt as Christine? Is her remarkable forgiveness something to be admired as a strength, or condemned as a weakness in a time where compassion has few representatives? The fact that she forgives the man who stabbed her in the throat is incomprehensible to me. Turning to the later chapters, I feel that there are many ideas and questions presented with the construction of Caesar’s Column in the center of the city.

The symbolism of the column is indeed vast. I cannot help but think of Trajan’s column in Rome, immortalizing a great victory with a granite façade etched with Romans in combat regalia. In both columns there is an immortalization of a victory, and in both columns there are people depicted. In the case of Caesar’s Column, this is taken quite literally, and certainly evokes an uncanny feeling. What does it say about Caesar and his brotherhood that he would use people, many of whom were loyal to his cause or completely innocent, in his construction? For civilization, the edifice represents the culmination of human deviation from the ideal; where even fundamental distinctions between friend and foe are of little consequence and each is equally cast into the void. In that regard it is very fitting that the novel is titled as such; for the column, stands as a warning of human corruption, and a permanent record of their misguidance. Much can be learned from Caesar’s Column, and the survivors of this disaster as they go about constructing a new and better civilization.

Blog Posting #8-Caesar's Column (1-14)

An unexpectedly interesting and action-packed novel, Ignatius Donnelly’s Caesar’s Column creates an introspective century-leap into the future that is our current past, and in the process evokes many of the overarching topics addressed in the class including speculation, technology, and the uncanny. It is the symbiosis of these related ideas which allows the text to propose many interesting questions regarding the direction in which civilization is going or has already gone.

This brings up a fundamental idea worth reflecting upon; that of the intended audience for this text. Since this text was written with a very specific, finite timeframe, was this text intended to be solely a warning for Donnelly’s age, or a time capsule with a do not open until 1988 stipulation? For me, given the pervasion of money (not even primarily physical anymore) and our eerily adherence to many tenets of this dystopian future so far, I favor the latter. That is this text was intended to offer social commentary on the subsequent future, and that the futures to follow should be leery of taking the easy path and not be called for mistakes a hundred years before they actually happen (obvious, or a lucky guess?). What does it say about our concept of civilization that people see only dark days on the horizon? In addition, what does it say about civilization that we are realizing, with ease, with relish, these dark premonitions? It wouldn’t surprise me if this text was not immensely popular in its heyday, not because it is a failure as a novel, but because it was not for Donnelly’s age to read.

Irrespective of his intended audience, Donnelly does do something very strange part-way into the text: he asks a character living in a dystopian world, Gabriel, to outline his idea of a utopian world. I find this strange because usually the utopian world is reveled at the end of the story, if at all, for dramatic and symbolic effect. The fact that Donnelly plops it right in the middle of a key plot sequence makes me wonder about his intentions. Why did I need to know at this point what Gabriel thought made a perfect world? It could be the fact that his perfect world would be quite unlike many of the cliché views. The fact that his perfect world, the closest thing to heaven on earth, involves removing interest from cash loans and distributing something so non-utopian as money indicates a different perspective of what constitutes perfection. Gabriel, the apparent innocent stranger in a strange land, still cannot come to terms with eliminating a form of monetary exchange. Even in “civilized” Uganda, utopia is merely a subtly modified dystopia. To me, it appears that the concept of civilization is off track, or possibly never was on track to begin with i.e. Rome, Persia, Egypt, Sumer ad infinitum.

So in this modern age, are we really any different than the civilizations which have failed before us? And is Donnelly, in writing this text, making an unorthodox attempt at breaking the vicious cycle?

Blog Posting #7 Reactions to Whitechapel Gods (1-186)

In order to fully understand the steampunk genre, it is necessary to view it as a continuum in literature. In our examination of steam narratives, we have taken this very approach; beginning with the early Edisonades, and progressing into the reactionary texts of the steampunk literary movement. This continuum pertains to many motifs reflected in steam narratives. An especially important motif is man’s domination over technologies, specifically machines. This continuum begins with the Edisonade’s complete domination over all technologies where there is a clear distinction between controller and controlled. In the case of the steam man, this distinction is made especially obvious with the controlled technology of the steam man being a black humanoid, a direct reference to slavery. In the steampunk stories of the 1980s, there is a clear equality between created machines and man. This is reinforced by both by the communication tones between technologies and humans as well as the clear physical interaction among the two groups. Lastly, we arrive at contemporary, dystopian steampunk literature. Therein lies the most current style in the evolution of this literary form we call steampunk.

S.M. Peters’ novel, Whitechapel Gods, is a prime example of this dystopian steampunk style. No longer is man the controller, rather the complete opposite. Man is dominated and controlled by the quintessential machines, that of Grandfather Clock and Mama Engine, in every facet of life and physical/metaphysical manifestation. The fundamental anatomy of human existence is being phased out by the clacks and even a person’s mind, once thought to be the most impenetrable sanctuary, can be probed and bewitched. The architectural accomplishments of man are now buried, rotting in the ‘underbelly’ below the stack. The mere fact that human constructions, texts of our existence, are relegated to the underworld symbolically implies they are subservient, a capitulation by man of his reigning position on top.

This list of such extreme ‘punkish’ symbolisms extends far beyond what is presented here, but it is important to note that this form of novel is not born directly out of the twenty first century, rather a century-long culmination of the shift in the power dynamic between man and machine. In every sense of the work, this novel is the extreme form of steampunk, mirroring the extreme form of the Edisonades which can now be best interpreted as ‘steamignorance.’

Blog Entry #6: Reflection on Victoria

A strange tale to say the least, Paul Di Filippo’s Victoria charters a unique path through the steampunk genre; unique not only for its creative biological concoction, but also the incorporation of sexual themes juxtaposed with an almost humanitarian perspective of the urban squalor of London. While a stunning example of the steampunk genre, I also feel that the story is rebelling against more than just the Edisonades which preceded it. This story is also displays a “punk” attitude with respect to the role of women as well as child labor.

From the very beginning, Di Filippo makes it clear that Cosmo has had sexual relations with his eugenic, growth-hormone-induced creation, the newt Victoria. This is also mirrored at the end of the story where William Lamb is found laying with newt Victoria in the Palace: the intentional conclusion of a circuitous farce intended to divert Cosmo’s attention away from the newt Victoria while Lamb could have his way with her. The actions of both Cosmo and Lamb are in clear rebellion to the ideas of the Edisonades. No longer are the scientists and officers of high political standing and influence masters over their creations. Control is not made manifest in their personality; replaced, rather, with a heap of dependence ultimately bringing the master and creation down to the same level if not implying a slight power in the latter.

Throughout the story, Cosmo repeatedly returns to thoughts of newt Victoria and whether or not she is okay or needs attention. Similarly, when newt Victoria is taken away from Lamb he proclaims that he “cannot do without her now” and in an almost comical display of his dependence on her pulls on her arm so hard that it falls off (Di Filippo 292). An otherwise morbid scene, in this case it is comical because of the newt’s ability to regenerate limbs. Nonetheless it is an accurate display of both men’s dependency on the creation, lest one forget that it took the pulling of both men on opposite sides of her, in a sort of dependence tug-of-war, to separate her arm from her body.

During his journey to find the real Victoria, Cosmo explores many of the dilapidated, waste-strewn boroughs of London. During such instances, the air is devoid of all humor, replaced by a sharp forthrightness. I feel that the author adopts said tone during these instances to comment on the reality of the life for the poor in London; many of whom trudge through the filth and feces, quite literally clearing a path, as well as cripple themselves to earn a few pennies. This is in rebellion to the ignorance that the Edisonades and society in general had with respect to the realities of the urban poor. Whilst heroes were off on their adventures in the savage lands of Africa or elsewhere, the urban poor were forgotten and left voiceless. The highly symbolic interaction between Cosmo and Tiptoft is reflective of Di Filippo’s desire to not forget the plight of the urban poor, and possibly have scientists and inventors actually help them out.

For all his character flaws, I feel that Cosmo is more a hero than any of those described in the Edisonades. Moral in action and reflective of consequences, Cosmo and Nails are realistic heralds of the perspective that Di Filippo hopes to interject into the mind of contemporary society.

Blog Entry #5- Response to Lord Kelvin's Machine/Seventy-Two Letters

My interests in Steampunk literature rise ever-higher as we progress through the unit. After reading the short stories Lord Kelvin’s Machine, and Seventy-Two Letters, arguably cornerstone texts of this literary style, my understanding of steampunk literature has also matured. In order to fully understand these texts, it is necessary to identify the many notable differences; as well as determine some common threads which motivate their co-inclusion in an anthology. Of the myriad literary styles, steampunk is certainly the engineer’s bedtime reader.

The first text, Lord Kelvin’s Machine, documents the trials of St. Ives to prevent both a mad doctor from careening the planet into a comet as well as prevent Lord Kelvin from initiating his “solution” to this threat. Set in traditional Victorian England, the text clearly incorporates the gentlemen-like sensibilities of the men as well as includes some famous, real scientists (Rutherford, Maxwell) from the era to give it some perspective and justify parts of the plot. What I can best describe as a futuristic past, this text takes real theories of the day, many of which are incorrect, and expands upon them both in terms of complexity and scale. No longer is there just a damsel tied to the train tracks, but rather global chaos and mayhem. Rather than some localized region, the earth itself is endangered. It is for this reason that this text can be classified as steampunk: the scaling-up and extension of scientific and pseudo-scientific principles (medium) and formulating a story within the confines of a different scientific framework.

The second text, Seventy-Two Letters, describes the trials of a nomenclator, Stratton, in finding a way to preserve the existence of the human species through automata and genetic manipulation. Unlike the first text, this one adopts a future-is-now structure; emphasizing the power of genetic engineering within the context of another pseudo-science, nomenclature. Throughout, there is proactive, scientific research with one revelation after another, rather than retroactive scientific response. This is especially the case because of the highly-developed and detailed pseudo-science of the second text. I believe that this text can be classified as steampunk because it also possesses an extended scientific/pseudo-scientific dogma within which the universe of the story operates. In this case the scientists are merely looking inward with microscopes rather than heaven-bound with telescopes.

Though the two texts trace different paths, there are many repeating factors between each story. Firstly, there is a threat to the human species. In this case, the threats are physical and biological respectively. Another major commonality, also supported by Tichi, is the heroism of the scientist/engineer in the novels. There is no question that it is the scientists and engineers that solve the problems in each of the texts. Granted many of the villains in steampunk novels, like Lord Kelvin’s Machine, are also educated. The implication there is that scientists/engineers are endowed with power (good or bad) for being masters of the pseudo-science(s) that a steampunk novel adopts.

Blog Entry #4-Significance of Motion Picture to Late 19th Century Culture

The late nineteenth century is certainly an amazing period of accelerated technological innovation rivaling that of the industrial revolution. Through our class, research, and reflection I have come to appreciate the myriad conveniences of my daily life; many of which came into existence during this period. Of particular interest in the class of late are the invention of the motion camera and, consequently, the motion picture. In order to understand the significance of these innovations, we have been looking at how they worked culturally, that is, there significance and influence within the cultural context of late nineteenth century America.

McLuhan’s “Medium is the Message” concept is immediately brought to bear on the situation. In a time where one’s senses were, quite literally, private affairs, the motion camera served as a public organ, a visual timestamp now allowing personal experiences to be viewed by all with eyes of their own. As in the past, new views of life have always fascinated people of the day. In the eighteenth century, the dissemination of the mirror proved awe-inspiring in the minds of people who had never seen their reflection before. Like the mirror, the motion camera worked culturally in the sense that it allowed people a new and different perspective of life by enabling people to physically capture moments in time, process them, and share them on a level of intimacy never before imagined. What one saw was no longer one’s own. No longer was it necessary for you to go to an event and see it, rather the event could be brought to you. For the first time, time itself could be rewound, replayed, stopped, and modified.

This motion camera, this ocular extension, essentially created a schism in society; permanently separating time and place, past and present, public and private by extending the visual faculty to quite literally an omnipresent level. Certainly many consequences, positive and negative, have followed from the physical device that is the motion camera. However, it is the medium itself, its non-neutral significance to civilization that is in fact the message. For in extending the visual faculties of humans to such a limit, the motion camera brought humans closer to the nature and power rivaling that of their perception of god.

Blog #3-Reactions to Devil in the White City (1-152)

Eric Larsen’s masterful novel, Devil in the White City, is an amazingly enthralling double story. Much more interesting than our previous novel, The Pit, Larsen’s story has a detailed plot that effectively alternates between Burnham’s construction of the Columbian World Exposition, and HH Holmes surreptitious and, so far, incomprehensible movement through the Chicago environment. What makes the novel especially enjoyable is the evidence of research into the actual events, creating a very real environment through which the characters navigate; developing, early on, a visual roadmap of the two distinct stories, but also how the main characters’ paths will eventually intersect. An interesting observation in the novel is the interpretation of Chicago itself as an entity of higher cognition, or mechanical order; that is, more than an agglomeration of a biotic brick, mortar and steel. The city itself is a place where “vanishment seemed a pastime” and nothing was wasted (Larson 102-103). This reinforces the mystique of Chicago and makes it even more alluring not only to continue reading, but also encourage the flood of young women and ambitious young men into its clutches. Like its interpretation in The Pit, there is a clear assertion that Chicago is an ordered being like any human.

Interestingly, there is no attempt in either novel to hide the inherent danger of venturing into the “White City”; which, to me, is only an accurate description to the extent of the illumination by electric lamps. The “Devil” in the White city belies the fact that the city is much more dark and sinister and, in reality, a very appropriate home for such a character as HH Holmes and his murderous tendencies. This is supported by the ease with which Holmes is able to systematically eliminate all obstacles incarnate, and explain their disappearances as simple, permanent, relocations. Initially, I envisioned a novel detailing the Chicago Columbian Exposition as a monotonous history lesson. I have since reformed my perspective and now realize the significance of the exposition and the murderous events, but also the astounding interconnectedness of the plot to many events across the world during an era with which I am especially interested.

Blog #2-Reaction to The Pit (5-9)

Between chapter five and nine of The Pit, many interesting character developments occur. This is especially the case in Laura Jadwin. Prior to their marriage, Laura appeared to be a young, giddy girl, out for a good time with any man willing to entreat her. It is only after her marriage that Laura’s interpretation of love becomes obvious. I am quite surprised at her definitions of love, which are both outlandish and almost contradictory. On one occasion, Laura defines love as only one way affections, of a material and servile nature, of the husband towards the wife. She continues on to say that the wife can, in turn, be very cold towards her husband (149). To me, it seems completely ridiculous to call this love, and what’s more, that this interpretation isn’t immediately denounced by Page when she explains it. Indeed love is not the easiest thing to define, but common sense would dictate that this doesn’t even come close.

In addition, this and other explanations of love have a clear material aspect. In other words, it seems that Laura married Jadwin primarily because he had the means (money) to obtain material possessions. For Laura, marriage is simply a means to an end (power and freedom of ideas), and the supposed love holding the marriage together is driven by material gain. I am not saying that Laura is stupid, she understands completely that money makes things easier and if all one needs to do to obtain such a life, then surrendering oneself to a marriage is completely appropriate. Laura clearly outlines this when she interprets love as “less a victory than a capitulation” (181). An interesting observation is that both Laura and Page, initially, have no intention of marrying anyone. Page goes so far as to prefer being a nun. Yet both Laura and Page ultimately surrender to the idea of marriage. Is this because they both realize the financial implications of marriage, that is they both “love” their husbands; or does Page differ from Laura, possessing genuine affections for Landry Court. This may be an interesting question to pursue further, as well as the influence of Laura’s readings on her seemingly spontaneous and random acts when Jadwin returns home, such as the costume drama in the library, and the morbid French poem.

Blog Posting #1-Reactions to The Pit (1-5)

After reading through chapter five of the novel, I fell that I have become acquainted with the language and vocabulary as well as fleshed out some interesting observations and questions. From the beginning, it was clear that the unique vocabulary and conversational styles of the characters were a direct consequence of the accepted interactions among men and women of the period. In the initial scene where Laura and the group were waiting for the Cresslers to arrive, the group deliberated about the appropriateness of approaching a man whom Laura though was a part of their group, Mr. Jadwin. They spend so much time arguing and waiting that the novel actually narrates this fact at least two times saying, “[they] did not move, and another five minutes passed by” (Norris 13). The text also repetitively italicizes ‘couldn’t’ to emphasize that there was a natural barrier to their desired action. It is clear that the public interactions between men and women are very structured and intended to be a formal almost ritualistic affair. The unspoken narration surrounding Laura and Mr. Jadwin’s interaction appeared, to me, a short, straight-forward, question and answer affair. This interaction, and the majority of interactions encountered thus far, demonstrates a clear focus on word choice, especially tone. When characters are introduced, I noticed that a large description follows detailing, briefly the physical appearance, and more extensively, an mental description I now understand what Bledstein meant when he said that “words were their primary social currency” (71). As some things become clear, there exist many interactions which I do not completely understand.

At one point in the novel, Laura Dearborn has three potential suitors aggressively vying for her hand. What I find unusual is that the suitors are aware of each other and are content with Laura playing them all as fools. Is it the societal structure which allows Laura to have three suitors yet not wish to choose? Laura tells each man that she will not marry him, then she says that they can keep trying, then she writes each of them letter saying she will never marry any of them. Then she decides to marry Mr. Jadwin despite this fact. What makes this novel frustrating, yet in agreement with Mid-Victorian values, is the amazingly slow pace with which the plot actually advances. After reading half the novel, not a whole lot of things have actually happened. Most of the novel is spent providing immense detail of every subtlety and inflection in the character’s conversations, which to a modern-day observer would not necessarily garner as much depth of analysis and commentary. Such interactions include the opera meeting, getting-dressed, the kiss, and the marriage.