Dear Seniors: Coming-of-Age

               I want to congratulate the seniors who have now completed a chapter in their lives: high school. I’ve had the honor of connecting with so many of you, and you’ve become dear friends and mentors. However, you’ll be starting a new chapter in your lives now. Whenever that may take you, college, a future job, or some other adventure, I wish you all the best. Be happy, be healthy, and be sure to visit us!

                I think this a good segway for the ending of Sag Harbor. (Nice timing Mr. Mitchell!)  While Benji (or I guess Ben) completes the end of his summer vacation, he looks back on his summer with some nostalgia and can somewhat laugh at himself. Our ability to look back on our past and take a new perspective is a sign of how we’ve grown. From what we’ve seen, I think the dramatic one-event coming-of-age stories are meant to be… well, pure fiction.

Whitehead’s Sag Harbor is probably the closest to genuine coming-of-age tales I’ve seen. Speak up if you disagree, but if you look at a random day in your life, you probably didn’t do anything epic or monumental to your personal growth. To be honest, my most used answer for what I’m doing at any moment is “nothing,” just like Benji. You don’t wake up one day and think you’re different— except maybe a growth spurt. Nine times out of ten you don’t feel a big difference when you turn fifteen to sixteen or sixteen to seventeen. However, what about looking back at subbie year? Every picture, every old essay, most likely gives us all a cringe-fest.

We’re not aware of our coming-of-age stories, but we all have times of adventure, danger (hopefully it’s not a BB stuck in your eye), and first experiences (like your first time riding a bike or driving with your new license). Isn’t that fun though? We can live in the moment but then go back and relive (or I guess view) that memory in a new way. Not to mention, we think differently as we grow up, each time with a growing base of knowledge. 

Hazle the Detective

I realize that I'm a week late, but I thought I'd just post my semester project here should anyone want to read it. I did my semester project on the chapter when Holden visits Phoebe in her room from The Catcher in the Rye. It's in Phoebe's perspective, however, thanks to Holden, we've known her to write fictional stories about "Detective Hazle Weatherfield." Taking both Phoebe's love for writing adventures for Hazle Weatherfield and her take on what happened in her room that night, I imagined what Phoebe would say to Holden as Hazle.
It's inception, to say the least. You can take a look at it here: Hazle Weatherfield

Traits of a Good Person

Black Swan Green’s Jason Taylor is the type of person I’d like to be friends with. He has a good moral compass. Moreover, he’s street smart, witty, and caring.

Back when he had the chance to raise his social status by joining the spooks, he still decided to give that security up and go back for Dean Moran thinking, “If I’d fallen through Mr. Blake’s greenhouse and not Moran, Moran wouldn’t be abandoning me to that psycho” (140). The benefits of having a tough group of boys to back you up is extremely enticing, but Jason still feels he should go back to his (socially low) friend Moran. This show of loyalty on Jason’s part is heart-warming. Wouldn’t you want a friend who’d give up their own social-safety just to make sure you’re okay?

Throughout the entire chapter of “Maggot,” he knows that the bullies just want a fun reaction from him. One example was when people put stickers with the word “maggot” all over his jacket, Jason Taylor knew what they wanted to see was him, in tears, running from the cafeteria (205). He knows himself that he cares too much about fitting in. Taylor isn’t a smarmy bastard like Neal Brose or Hugo, but he isn’t a coward either. When Ross Wilcox confronted him outside, Taylor shot back “your breath smells really bad, Ross” (215).

At the fair, when Ant Little and Darren Croome walk up and tease them about going to the fair with Dean Moran’s little sister, Jason doesn’t back down: “Yeah. We are. What the fuck is it to you?” (245). Unlike before (e.g. tying a string to the doorknob), he’s badass for the right reasons: standing up for himself and his friend Moran. He gained a lot of self-confidence throughout the book, but doesn’t lose his morals. He could’ve stolen the wallet, and he could’ve kept quiet about the whole bullying situation. However, Jason cares too much. While he might find it as a flaw, I think it’s one the many strengths that make him such a lovable character.

Siding with Lucille

Let’s just jump right in: Sylvie’s a nightmare come true. Sure, who doesn’t want an eccentric aunt in their lives to jumble up the boring bag of life once in a while. Sylvie as a guardian? -- hard pass.

Sylvie’s all kinds of weird. From our first encounter, we could tell something was not right. Wearing a green prom dress in the dead of winter to meet your nieces is a giant red flag saying you don’t know a thing about conventional standards (or general health awareness for that matter -- I’d be freezing!). She always tends to run through the motions. One beautiful showcase of this was the next-level parent sick-note on page 77. She knows the jist of a sick note but has no clue how to enact it. If Sylvie had cut that note after the first sentence, it would’ve been fine.

She also has no idea how housekeeping works. For example, only cleaning half the ceiling and stacking cans just because it seems right. Additionally, Sylvie’s frivolous personality blends the line between inside versus outside: She enjoys eating the pitch black dark and never bothers to cook -- I wonder if she even knows how to cook. At one point, Lucille mentions that it’s now “Sylvie’s house” and I agree. I’d scream if I opened the kitchen cabinet and found a squirrel hiding behind the cereal, but Sylvie seemed just fine living in tandem with wild animals. 

Learning from Sylvie about how to live your life normally would be an ultimate disaster unless you actually planned on becoming a transient. You can’t even trust Sylvie to teach you how to live a long life: she wanders around a bridge just because she was curious. So, while I had originally thought Lucille was rude and annoying, she’s the only one with a society-based mentality. Had I been in the same situation as Lucille, I would’ve done everything she did.

A Shattered Reflection

The early chapters of the Bell Jar pictured Esther as a character who was easy to relate to. Sure, I sometimes agreed with the points made in A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man and the Catcher in the Rye, but I still had some reservations. Both Stephen and Holden were hypocritical (and quite infuriating) at times. On the other hand, I felt a strong connection with Esther -- a striking feminist with a drive to overachieve.

In class discussions, yes, I enjoy thinking on the other side of things: I felt that Esther labeling Buddy a hypocrite was unjust and I think Esther lacks a sense of communication. However, I, like Esther, relate to her thoughts like “how can I keep up my GPA?” If I was about to witness two people “getting it on,” I’d also try to escape as fast as possible. Additionally, Esther’s reaction to the question, “what do you want to do in the future?” really hit home for me because I honestly don’t have a solid answer either. I saw Esther as a reflection of myself -- dare I say, I was the sleep-deprived Chinese woman in the mirror. I had seen myself in Esther more deeply than any other fictional character before. Yet the minute Esther started her summer in the suburbs, I felt cut off…

Before we began the novel, we were warned the novel contained some dark chapters and I thought I felt prepared. I remember Zona making a point in class about how the novel almost seems to divide itself into two completely different stories. I agree completely because I felt a sudden disconnect from the Esther I had begun to love -- as if my reflection in her shattered. Mr. Mitchell added on to that thought: the beginning chapters of the novel give us the background and significance of Esther’s downward spiral. Had I gone into this novel not knowing about Esther’s initial quirks and personality, I wouldn’t feel so… betrayed? Betrayed by the fact that one can disintegrate so quickly page by page, I didn’t really want to believe that such an issue could exist.

I think a better way to describe my shock is that it scared me. Even though I knew beforehand that the Bell Jar would take a dark turn, I didn’t think it would affect me so much. To think a character who I had seen so much of myself in break into shattered pieces of their former self broke my heart. Reading each suicidal thought felt painful: Her descriptions about her life grew cold and objectifying and all I could do was read it happen before me.

Esther became so numb to everything; How could it be so easy to fall so far? Why did it happen to a character as capable as Esther? I believe that’s what makes the Bell Jar so powerful. As a reader, we’re stuck on the observation deck unable to reach out and warn the characters we read -- like the frustrating feeling one gets when watching a stereotypical horror film. Maybe making us feel so helpless towards Esther’s struggles was Plath’s goal all along?

Could We Hate Holden?

            From the cold-hearted women crying at the movie theater, overly extravagant Christmas shows, and to cocky show-offs, I relate to Holden’s complaints. I love his noble morals: sticking up for what you believe, staying humble no matter one’s skill, and genuine honesty, but Holden takes it too far.

Holden feels that he’s better than the world. Why? Holden complains about “phonies.” In tandem, Holden doesn’t believe he’s a phony. He hates playing “life’s game” and believes that flunking out of school is the way to cheat the system. He over-fantasizes moral virtues to the point where he can’t even follow them without becoming an outsider to society. For example, deciding to become a recluse if he was good at something, caring about honesty when he’s the biggest liar we’ve ever seen, and looking to spark conversation with someone who doesn’t have an agenda when Holden’s the one with the agenda of finding someone to talk to. Simply speaking, his values make him the hypocrite. If he ever looked at himself in the mirror and analyzed himself — when he’s not checking out his bloody beaten face — the phony character he should hate would be himself.

            Maybe I’m being too harsh on him. Holden’s a character dealing with the grief of Allie using the “I don’t care” defensive mechanism. Therefore, I understand his decision to not follow the rules and punish himself through aggravating people like Maurice and Stradlater. I can understand why he might be hypocritical at times. Yet, it gives Holden has no excuse for his high standards of life — it’s unhealthy to begin with. Holden has thought like this from way before — the proof is how he views movies (I think it’s fair he was watching movies before Allie’s death) — that type of mindset doesn’t form from one event (Allie’s death).

He still believes there’s a set of rules for the world like how he wishes everyone had the frozen innocence of a child or to receive praise would compromise pure intentions. To live by such standards would make anyone depressed. Sure people are annoying and everyone has felt irritated at some point in their lives, but it takes a certain type of mentality to feel justified to make these judgments. I know I have, but I also realize I’ve acted like a “phony” too. I too have acted cocky and I really would be lying if I said I’ve always been 100% honest. In this regard, I feel that Holden with his “I know better/I’m superior” complex gives him justification to hate everything. So, my question is, how can we still like Holden so much?

Disclaimer: By no means am I saying that I hate Holden Caulfield. However, I think it’s evident that our perspective of him is skewed because he acts as such a strong narrator. We’re expected to relate to his opinions and take his side. However, I find it amazing how a perspective can change our view on a person. By taking a step back to look at Holden, with a slight twist in perspective, Holden could’ve been an easy character to hate. Like who would love a guy willing to punch you for no apparent reason? Why would someone side with a guy who yells at you during a date and then calls you up drunk in the middle of the night?

The Seven “Dedalus” Sins

     In The Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man, we’ve seen a lot of developmental changes throughout Stephen. He starts off as a curious innocent child and eventually turns into a teen with raging-hormones who takes everything to the extreme. We’ve talked about the unhealthiness of his actions, and the music of Joyce’s narration throughout the book. However, one thing I picked up (and felt amused by) from our class discussion was Stephen’s journey through the seven sins and how that changes our perspective of him.

     The seven sins include pride, greed, lust, envy, gluttony, wrath, and sloth. We can easily see Stephen commit the sin of lust when he sleeps with a prostitute in chapter two: “He burned to appease the fierce longings of his heart before which everything else was idle and alien. He cared little that he was in mortal sin, that his life had grown to be a tissue of subterfuge and falsehood.” (pg. 105) From this blatant description of succumbing to lust, we can conclude he’s aware that he’s committing a sin. I’ll put it out there that I’m a little shocked that he’s sleeping with prostitutes at sixteen, however, I’ll argue Stephen’s list of sins starts way earlier.

     I believe Stephen’s first sin was gluttony because he does everything in excess: We can see it during the infirmary when he vividly pictures his funeral. We reacted with laughter and viewed Stephen as a drama queen. If his development stopped there, I feel that we’d still view Stephen as the “charming religious kid,” however, Stephen takes pride in being the "lone" kid at the party. He also gluts at the idea of looking humble before the priest who “pandied” him. Stephen then starts experiencing wrath: Perhaps it stems from the laughter Stephen receives when his father hears about his meeting with Father Dolan – humiliation. He becomes cold with his family and envious that life isn’t going his way (thanks to moving from house to house). Stephen also broods at the fact he did nothing on the tram – angry at his inaction. At that point, some of us dismissed his behaviors as “classic teenager syndrome” or so to speak.

     If we take it farther, I would say Stephen’s actions with the prize money he won was an act of greed. Instead of saving the money, Stephen exuberantly spent it on plays and squares of Vienna chocolate. Stephen also commits the sin of sloth because he time and time again waiting for some female to encounter him first – it’s why he “wanders.” While I can’t speak for others, I’m frustrated at Stephen’s behavior. I felt like, “Stephen should know better.” If I didn’t know any better, I’d think I grew up respecting morals more than Stephen, but maybe that’s my own arrogance showing through.

     I find it hilarious that the entire time everyone on the outside views Stephen as this saint character: He appears as a goody-two-shoes. This doesn’t even cover any of the events from chapter three and four. Truthfully, I relate to Stephen’s internal struggles. I’ve been greedy before (Halloween is a glorious example), and I’ve also once believed I knew better than anyone – the classic teenager stereotype. Based on everything that’s happened, could growing-up just be a process of learning how to overcome the seven sins? His attempts at changing his behavior in chapter four seem promising despite how he’s going about it – physical self-punishment rather than mental resilience. We won’t know more until later, so I’m excited to see how Stephen will develop.