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.’