Close Reading Questions for Shelley's Frankenstein, pp.19-71

(Left: Self Portrait of Goya, 1795...an image of Victor Frankenstein?)

Answer TWO of the following...

1. Carefully read Shelley’s 1831 Introduction to Frankenstein: how is she positioning the story for her post-Gothic readership (as the Gothic craze by this time had more or less died out)? Also, how might she playing into the conventions of Gothic prefaces written by Walpole and Coleridge?

2. Why do you think Shelley opens the novel with the letters (and story) of Walton, the Arctic explorer? What might he—and the epistolary form—add to the work from the Gothic or the novelistic point of view?

3. The young Victor becomes enamored with the writings of Agrippa, Paracelsus, and Magnus, all of whom sought “the raising of ghosts or devils” (47). Why do the Enlightenment figures in the text (his father, his teachers) scorn these books, and what role do they play in his ultimate decision to create life?

4. How might the nightmare Victor has in the beginning of Chapter V reflect on his own psychology in creating the Creature? What might the dream “see” that he cannot—or refuses to witness?

From Thomas de Quincey's Confessions of an English Opium Eater (1821)

The following excerpt comes from Thomas de Quincey's harrowing account of opium addiction and the "sublime" nightmares he suffered from.  These nightmares tap into typically Romantic visions of innocence and experience, sublimity, terror, and the Orient.  This excerpt discusses the peculiar nature of his "Chinese" dreams, and his singularly racist horror of this ancient civilization (fueled more by his reading than any actual contact with the culture, I imagine).  If you want to read the entire work, you can find it in our library as well as on line at: http://www.lycaeum.org/~sputnik/Ludlow/Texts/Opium/index.html

The Malay has been a fearful enemy for months. I have been every night, through his means, transported into Asiatic scenes. I know not whether other share in my feelings on this point; but I have often thought that if I were compelled to forgo England, and to live in China, and among Chinese manners and modes of life and scenery, I should go mad. The causes of my horror lie deep; and some of them must be common to others. Southern Asia, in general, is the seat of awful images and associations. As the cradle of the human race, it would alone have a dim and reverential feeling connected with it. But there are other reasons. No man can pretend that the wild, barbarous, and capricious superstitions of Africa, or of savage tribes elsewhere, affect him in the way that he is affected by the ancient, monumental, cruel, and elaborate religions of Indostan, etc. The mere antiquity of Asiatic things, of their institutions, histories, modes of faith, etc., is so impressive, that to me the vast age of the race and name overpowers the sense of youth in the individual. A young Chinese seems to me an antediluvian man renewed.


Even Englishmen, though not bred in any knowledge to such institutions, cannot but shudder at the mystic sublimity of castes that have flowed apart, and refused to mix, through such immemorial tracts of time; nor can any man fail to be awed by the names of the Ganges, or the Euphrates. It contributes much to these feelings,that southern Asia is, and has been for thousands of years, the part of the earth most swarming with human life…Man is a weed in those regions. The vast empires also, into which the enormous population of Asia has always been cast, give a further sublimity to feelings associated with oriental names or images. In China, over and above what it has in common with the rest of Southeast Asia, I am terrified by the modes of life, by the manners, and the barriers of utter abhorrence, and want of sympathy, placed between us by feelings deeper than I can analyze. I could sooner live with lunatics, or brute animals.

All this, and much more than I can say, or have time to say, the reader must enter into before he can comprehend the unimaginable horror which these dreams of oriental imagery, and mythological tortures, impressed upon me. Under the connecting feeling of tropical heat and vertical sun-lights, I brought together all creatures, birds, beasts, reptiles, all trees and plants, usages and appearances, that are found in all tropical regions, and assembled them together in China or Indostan. From kindred feelings I soon brought Egypt and all her gods under the same law. I was stared at, hooted at, grinned at, chattered at, by monkeys, by paroquets, by cockatoos. I ran into pagodas: and was fixed, for centuries, at the summit, or in secret rooms; I was the idol; I was the priest; I was worshipped; I was sacrified. I fled from the wrath of Brama through all the forests of Asia: Vishnu hated me; Seeva laid in wait for me…I was buried for a thousand years, in stone coffins, with mummies and sphinxes, in narrow chambers at the heart of eternal pyramids. I was kissed, by cancerous kisses, by crocodiles, and laid, confounded with all unutterable slimy things, among reed and Niolitic mud.

For Tomorrow: Polidori

For tomorrow let's just devote our discussion to The Vampyre, and I might bring in something to intoduce Frankenstein as well.  I'm just too exhasuted to do prepare anything else, and besides, I think we could use some good discussion of this pivotal Gothic work.  If you missed class on Tuesday, I got sick 20 minutes in and had to cancel class, so you only missed a little lecture on the Shelleys, Byron, and Polidori, some of which I can repeat on Thursday.

Take care!

A Few Reminders...

1. The absolute last day I will accept papers for any credit is tomorrow by 5pm (you will get an F, but can possibly get a 50% maximum, which beats a 0).  I hope to have all the papers graded by Thursday's class, though late papers will not be returned on time (sorry--probably have those by the following Tuesday). 

2. Two new posts are below: one on Beethoven for cultural context, and beneath that, the questions for Polidori's The Vampyre.  If you missed class on Thursday be sure to get the handout from my box. 

3. Be sure you have the Bedford copy of Frankenstein for Thursday's class.  You need this edition for our class, since we will be doing several critical readings from this text.  The bookstore is well stocked with this book and The Gothic Tradition (which is also a requirement). 

Ohterwise, see you on Tuesday!

Cultural Context: Beethoven and the Romantic Artist

Ludwig Van Beethoven (1770-1827) played a pivotal role in the transformation not only of classical music, but also of the artist's role in society. Though born to a humble station in Bonn, Germany, he quickly established himself as a pianist and composer of note, studying briefly with Joseph Haydn (see earlier post on him) and cultivating a series of aristocratic patrons. However, Beethoven was impatient with convention (like so many Romantic artists!) and began experimenting with the expressive possibilities of form (similar to Walpole). A true child of sentiment and feeling, even Beethoven's earliest works probe deeper than the more facile works of his contemporaries; he was drawn to the expressive possibilities of the great classical forms such as the symphony, the sonata, the concerto, and the string quartet. While honoring the innovations made by former composers (especially Mozart, whom he revered), Beethoven added a crucial element that echoed the literature, philosophy, and politics of his time. In a word we might call this "romanticism," though "revolution," "rebellion," and simply "defiance" will also do. His music pushed all the known boundaries of classical music, taking a four movement symphony that usually lasted about 25-30 minutes and pushing it close to an hour. And what did he do in that hour? Taking the example of his longest, and at the time most audacious symphony, Symphony No.3 "Eroica" (The Heroic), he created music that spoke of a revolutionary struggle against the world, where tragedy, perseverance, and sheer irreverence walked hand-in-hand. Not coincidentally, Beethoven originally dedicated the score of this work to Napoleon Bonaparte, who at this time (1804) was beginning his fateful military career. Beethoven admired his revolutionary spirit and defiance of conventional monarchy...until Napolean invaded Austria. The manuscript of the score shows this dedication scratched through so vigorously that only a hole remains. Nevertheless, the revolutionary ideals in the music remain, sounding the triumph of the artistic spirit, and the freedom of art to rise above the dogmatic indifference of the unenlightened.


Beethoven began to lose his hearing in his early thirties, making public performance difficult--and eventually impossible. However, it made his compositions grow more introspective and demanding: he created challenges that many players at the time thought impossible (such as the piano parts in his Piano Concertos, as well as the singing parts in his final symphony, the all-important Ninth). With each new major work he made an artistic statement, sometimes defiantly, sometimes playfully, but always conscious of his role as an artist and a seeker of Romantic truth. Indeed, whereas former composers were content to be employed by this or that aristocratic patron, Beethoven refused to be treated as a servant: he demanded respect and fully expected the rich and powerful to support him...if they had any taste, that is. While the public scrambled to keep up with his innovations, Beethoven wrote some of his most important and lasting works: Symphony No.5, with its famous "duh-duh-duh-Dah!" motif (later used as a musical symbol for Victory in WWII), Symphony No.6 , "The Pastoral" (a musical depiction of Nature--very much in the Wordsworthian vein), Symphony No.9, his shockingly ambitious choral symphony, which concludes with the famous "Ode To Joy," as well as several late string quartets and piano sonatas, works of such extreme intimacy that one can only compare them love letters or private diary entries. Few understood their prophetic insight at the time, and even Beethoven was unable to truly "hear" them alongside his audience. Nevertheless, Beethoven wrote both for his time and the one to follow, content that art was the one form common to all men, and the true means for ennobling his or her spirit and ideals.

After Beethoven, few artists were content to hang their heads and lap up the scraps from a nobleman's table. Beethoven's works became what gifts of land once were to nobility--it gave him a metaphorical coat of arms, castles, and international prestige. Though his music and personality shocked the older generation (the poet Goethe, for example, could only shake his head), it inspired an entire generation of composers, writers, and artists. Like Lord Byron, the great English poet, sometimes his image preceded the work itself, with society embellishing his legend to truly Romantic (and at times, Gothic) proportions. One story has it that, on his deathbed, thunder rolled over the roofs, prompting Beethoven to sit up in bed and shake his first at heaven. “Not yet!” he was reported to scream, which smacks more of Walpole than Beethoven’s biography. Something of this legacy carries over to the Gothic works of the period, notably in Mary Shelley’s depiction of Victor Frankenstein, another Romantic artist who defies God in his quest for creation and scientific truth.

Selected Work: Symphony No.3, “Eroica”

Symphony No.3, his heroic symphony, is in the traditional four movements: the first speaks of heroic struggle and drama; the second is a broad funeral march, opening with desolation and growing more defiant; the third is a flippant “scherzo” (Italian for “joke”) that laughs with jolly tunes; and the fourth, the finale, is a series of variations on a theme from his ballet, The Creatures of Prometheus. This famous myth, about the giant Prometheus who bequeathed fire to mankind, was a famous theme of the Romantics—notably in Shelley’s Frankenstein, which is subtitled “The Modern Prometheus.” This encoded reference to Prometheus is yet another link to the revolutionary ethos of the symphony itself, and certainly Beethoven’s intention in writing it.

Writing of the slow (second) movement, Barbara Hanning writes: “It is the second movement—the Funeral March—more than anything else in the symphony that links the work with France, the republican experiment there, and Napoleon. The customary slove movement is replaced by a march in C minor, full of tragic grandeur and pathos, and a contrasting “trio” in C major [a trio is typically a contrasting section in a lighter mood in a longer work, called a “trio” because originally only three instruments—usually wind instruments—played in it (my note)] brimming with fanfares and celebratory lyricism, after which the march returns, broken up with sighs at the end. At the opening of the Funeral March, the thirty-second notes of the strings imitate the sound of muffled drums used in the Revolutionary processions that accompanied French heroes to their final resting place” (Concise History of Western Music, 367).

Other works of “Gothic” interest…
* Symphonies 4, 5, 6 and 9
* Piano Sonata Nos. 8 “Pathetique,” No.14 “Moonlight,” and No. 21 “Appassionata”
* Piano Concerto Nos.1-5
* Overtures for Egmont, Corolian, and the Creatures of Prometheus
To listen to entire excerpts from the symphonies and other works, click on the following:
http://www.beethoven-haus/ bonn.de/sixcms/detail.php?
id=15241&template=untergruppe_digitales_archiv_en&_eid=1510&_ug=Symphonies&_mid=Works%20by%20Ludwig%20van%20Beethoven

Close Reading Questions for Polidori's The Vampyre (handout--see box)

Note: According to the Oxford English Dictionary, the word “vampire/vampyre” is of Slavonic origin, occurring equally throughout Russia Poland, Serbia, and Bulgaria as “vampir” or “vepir.” Interestingly, its first appearance in English is documented in 1734, though it becomes much more common after Polidori’s story in 1819. Thereafter, it enters the lexicon as both as “a person of malignant and loathsome character” and “An intolerable bore or tedious person.”

Answer TWO of the following…

1. Setting is extremely important in Gothic fiction, as Stevens reminds us: “some form of obscurity or mystery seems to be a common factor” (54). What is mysterious or obscure about the setting of The Vampire, particularly Aubrey’s long sojourn in Greece? How does this contribute to the Gothic sensibilities of the tale?

2. In what ways might we read The Vampyre as a story of “innocence and experience” similar to Austen’s Northanger Abbey? Consider the character of Aubrey in particular, and Polidori’s use of words such as “imagination,” “innocence,” “frank,” and “infantile.”

3. The vampire was traditionally a loathsome creature of myth and legend—similar to a decrepit grave robber. How does Polidori transform the vampire legend, and what might this say about English society in the early 19th century? Consider how Polidori describes Lord Ruthven and his “vampiric” actions.

4. In many ways, The Vampire reads as a folk or fairy tale, with little use of traditional novelistic details such as characterization, dialogue, or narration. Why do you think he adopted this method? Is there a unique relationship between the Gothic and the fairy tale?

Close Reading Questions for Wollstonecraft's A Vindication for the Rights of Woman (handout--go to my door if you missed last class)

(Above: John Opie's painting of Mary Wollstonecraft, a suitably Gothic image of this pioneering Feminist writer.  Besides the Vindication, she was also a noted travel writer, publishing a celerbrated book entitled Letters Written During A Short Residence in Sweden, Norway and Denmark (1796), which reflected on the state of women outside of England.  This is the book that reportedly made William Godwin fall in love with her, and remained Mary Shelley's favorite book to the end of her days.  Her reputation--for bad and good--however was made by A Vindication of the Rights of Woman). 

Answer TWO of the following...

1. In a passage that plays with ideas of innocence and experience, Wollstonecraft writes, “for if men eat of the tree of knowledge, women will come in for a taste; but, from the imperfect cultivation which their understandings now receive, they only attain a knowledge of evil” (238). What does she mean by this, and how does it relate to eighteenth-century practices of educating women?

2. Wollstonecraft is very critical of the contemporary notion of passion (or romantic love) in marriage. As she writes, “a master and mistress of a family ought not to continue to love each other with passion…they ought not to indulge those emotions which disturb the order of society, and engross the thoughts that should be otherwise employed” (245). Why (to her) is passion such an invasive force in marriage, and potentially devastating to a woman’s role as wife and mother?

3. How does Wollstonecraft implicate literature—and in particular, novels—as contributing to the general ignorance of women and their deplorable state in eighteenth-century society? What does she see as the terrible “moral” of most literature…and do you feel she would lump Walpole and Austen into this argument?

4. Though a hallmark of feminist thought, how might A Vindication of the Rights of Woman also be read as a Marxist text? In what ways might it contribute politically to the upheavals of the French Revolution and the Gothic/Romantic concern for the “rights of man”?

Blog Post Schedule

We're back on track with the Blog Schedule now that Northanger Abbey is finished.  However, for your covnenience, here is the remaining schedule...remember to post by 5pm the day before to get full points for this. 

Thursday, February 18 (Wollstonecraft): Shannon Norton
Tuesday, February 23 (Polidori, handout): Christopher Clark
Thursady, February 25: (Fraknenstein): Ray Lackey and Patricia Anderson
Tuesday, March 2 (Frankenstein): Coby Thornton
Thursday, March 4 (Frankenstein): Shannon McKim
Tuesday, March 9 (Freud's "The Uncanny"--handout): Chad Large
Thursday, March 11: (Collings, article): Hannah Medrano
Tuesday, March 23 (Le Fanu): Ben Nicols
Thursday, March 25 (Le Fanu): Jun Pham
Tuesday, March 30 (Le Fanu): Rodney Weaverling
Tuesday, April 6 (Article--handout): Sarah Berger
Thursday, April 8 (Dracula): Patsy Roberts
Tuesday, April 13 (Dracula): Bruce McCoin
Thursday, April 15 (Dracula): Katherine Conrad
Tuesday, April 20 (Dracula): Arielle Burkett

Review of the PBS Northanger Abbey

NOTE: The questions for Tuesday are in the previous post.  This is a review of the PBS Northanger Abbey that aired last night. 

For more information about this version, see PBS's website at: http://www.pbs.org/wgbh/masterpiece/northangerabbey/index.html

THE ADAPTATION
Andrew Davies, who is more or less the adapter-in-chief for Masterpiece Theater (he did the famous Colin Firth Pride and Prejudice, among others) adapted this version of Northanger Abbey, which I believe is pretty faithful and etertaining.  In an interview with him on the site, he comments about the book:

"I think perhaps the easiest for me was Northanger Abbey because it is one of my most recent ones so I've kind of got the hang of it now I feel, and Northanger Abbey is a relatively simple story to tell. The only difficult bit was really trying to convey Catherine's imagination and what all these gothic horror novels were like. So what I did was actually dramatize them and put them on the screen so we can see what is going on in her head."

I think his attention to detail here was superb, since the movie more or less opens with one of Catherine's "Gothic" daydreams--until she is disturbed by her brothers and sisters.  The scene has her reading privately in a garden, lost in the throes of Romantic passion--it's quite effective.  Davies tinkers with this and that detail of the book to bring out the Gothic elements, often inserting more of her "daydreams" which are soon populated by people in her life--Henry Tilney, Isabella, Captain Tilney.  He also does a good job of narrating the relatively "simple story" of Northanger Abbey; the movie flies by in less than two hours, and yet we don't lose anything too substantial.  The plot and characters are remarkably preserved with only a slight curtailing toward the end and a very abrupt ending--the last three chapters of the book take about five minutes!  If I didn't know the book intimately, the ending might have confused me...how things wrapped up and why isn't entirely satisfactory the way it is in the book (and indeed, the Narrator makes fun of her spontaenous "solution" which is in itsef a satire on the art of novel writing). 

THE ACTORS/ACTRESSES

Perhaps my largest misgiving with the adaptation itself was the role of the Narrator.  The Narrator does appear in the movie--occuring right at the end and right at the beginning, reading verbatim from Northanger Abbey.  Sadly, that's as far as it goes.  In a screenwriting class I took as an undergraduate, the teacher told us that using a narrator is a crutch; it means that you can't find a way to introduce expository information and are basically spoon-feeding it to your audience.  In most cases, yes, but in some movies narration is masterly--and essential to the story.  Northanger Abbey is a true eighteenth-century novel, very much in the mold of Fielding's Tom Jones or Joseph Andrews, where the narrator literally stops the action of the book to converse, pontificate, or simply to stir things up.  The Narrator should have been cast as an actual role in this adaptation, since she contributes so much to the feel and substance of the novel.  Lacking her, much of the satire of the work is missing, particularly satires on Gothic novels, their readers, and the conventions of the novel itself.  I really missed this, and when the Narrator returns to deliver her final sentence in the novel, it doesn't have the satiric effect (or satisfaction) in the novel: it just seems like a convenient rounding off.  It falls a bit flat, actually.  An earlier Masterpiece version of Tom Jones has Henry Fielding (the author) appear as the narrator and it works beautifully, capturing the spirit and the satire of the original. 

The casting, however, is one of the best I have ever seen in any Jane Austen adaptation (on a par with the greatest adaptation of all, 1996's Persuasion, starring the amazing Amanda Root and Ciaran Hinds).  Catherine is portrayed by Felicity Jones, who I recognize from other BBC productions; she is an ideal Catherine, able to portray a wide-eyed sensibility and vulnerable naivete.  Of course, I think she is rather too pretty to totally inhabit Catherine; when her father says, "Catherine almost looks pretty today," you say to yourself, "no shit."  She's gorgeous, so this undercuts the "intellectual romance" she and Henry have together.  This does come out, but clearly he sees her first and the mind comes later.  Henry Tilney, portrayed by JJ Feild is first-rate, able to convey a quick-witted sarcasm as well as a darker, brooding sensibility that comes from the "curse" of Northanger Abbey.  Other noteable roles are Eleanor (Catherine Walker), Isabella (Carey Mulligan) and John Thorpe (William Beck), all of whom flesh out these character admirably without making them cartoons.  Thorpe's character is particularly humorous with all his "dammits!" and his unpolished vulgarity.  The chemistry between our leading couple is palpable, and really sold the final scene--where, anarchonistically, they share a kiss and a virtual tumble into the bushes! 

NOTABLE SCENES/DEPARTURES

I noted some interesting changes throughout, notably when Isabella says that Tilney's family is notorious for their behavior, especially the older brother (Captain Tilney) who is "like Lord Byron."  Byron would not have been a big name when Austen first wrote the book (1797-98), so this is pushing the time back a few decades to 1818, when it was actually published (and when Radcliffe was less of a name than Byron).  I also noted that Thorpe's detestation of novels is softened; though he refuses to read Udalpho, he does offer to lend her Lewis's The Monk, which she accepts.  Now, Thorpe does admit to liking only two novels in the book, Tom Jones and The Monk, though these are merely asides; he mostly bashes all novels except those of Ann Radcliffe, though he has clearly never read them.  The adaptation has him lending The Monk to Catherine, who reads one of the more enticing excerpts--when Abrosio plans to rape Antonia.  This leads to a "Gothic daydream" sequence, but also blurs the lines between the two men: Thorpe appears to share Catherine's sensibility here, though he clearly does not in the book (and why doesn't Tilney offer to lend her more Radcliffe at this rate)?  However, Thorpe is soon dispatched in the adaptation, so the audience scarcely remembers this.  He actually doesn't appear as much of a threat in the book, while another character, Captain Tilney, emerges as a blackguard of the first degree.  While he still seduces Isabella from Catherine's brother, the book leaves it on the level of a strong flirtation.  In the movie, to spice things up and add some modern darknesss to the work, he sleeps with her and jilts her afterwards (merely telling her, as she's naked in bed, "make yourself decent").  While Austen never says any of this, a soldier of the time may well have acted this way, particularly from the hints we get of Tilney's character.  I think this is an interesting and useful choice, since it reminds us of the "actual and natural evil" that Catherine discovers in General Tilney.

I think the adaptation might have made more of the carriage ride to the Abbey, where Tilney and Catherine flirt through Gothic novels.  Henry does do some of this, but he says most of it off camera, so we only get his narration.  This could have been a major scene, since he essentially eggs her on, and she plays along gleefully--setting up her snooping in the Abbey itself.  However, note how they flirt throughout the movie, and from their first meeting in Bath, Catherine is very aware of this fliration--she plays along.  In the novel, you can read her as conscious OR oblivious, and I like the decision they make her; it shows why he might have a strong intellectual attraction to her.  The MOST disappointing scene is when Henry discovers her in his mother's room.  Two problems for me:

a. He hasn't been away for a week at Woodston (he leaves, but in the movie it was 1 minute ago!).  He's just left her recently, so his sudden arrival seems mundane.  In the book he's been gone for a while, the house is quiet, so Catherine thinks she can snoop around--and lo and behold, here he comes!  It's dramatic and startling in a Gothic sort of way, since this is the very LAST person she wants to meet.

b. His speech is almost entirely re-written.  True, he says accuses her of a monstrous thought, but he doesn't say "Remember that we are English, that we are Christians..."  Instead he dismisses her with a haughty, "Perhaps after all it is possible to read too many novels."  Yes, that is the tenor of his speech, but it loses all the meaning and the irony.  It suggests that she is merely foolish--not that he is equally culpable in her fancies, or that he, too, is young and naive about the "evils" of the world.  In the book, this speech contrasts nicely with the fact that he breaks with his father over the general's unfeeling behavior.  He, too, has learned to recognize the "actual and natural" evils that reside under his roof.  In the movie, he does not necessarily undergo this transformation.  Worse still, he never speaks to her again before she is ejected from the Abbey!  She sees him next when he comes to propose to her, negating his "sensibility" in immediately forgiving her trespass the next morning (in the novel).  Ah well. 

The end, too, is super abrupt, and we don't quite put all the pieces together.  Notice that the movie also introduces Eleanor's lover earlier in the film, as if to say "look, he really does appear in the book!"  The Narrator of Northanger Abbey makes fun of that fact that she introduces a character right at the end simply to foster a wedding.  That's part of the fun.  However, if you throw out the narrator, you throw out little delights like this thoughout the novel.  Ah well.  The version makes up for this through the sheer chemistry of the characters and the visual beauty of the film itself.  I love the little scenes, such as the moment when General Tilney has to go to London, leaving the trio alone in the Abbey--you can see the delight in their faces as his carriage rumbles off.  This follows quiet scenes of them talking in front of the fireplace, strolling across the fields, and horseback riding, which leads to a very modern moment of Henry wiping the mud off Catherine's face.  Risque for the time, but satisfying for ours. 

All in all, a great version and a nice complement to the novel.  Probably it's more enjoyable if you already know the novel, but what's wrong with that?  Films don't necessarily need to stand alone, and in the 19th century, many adaptations were often created with the expectation that the audience knew the works in question.  If you haven't seen this version, I strongly recommend it.  If you have, leave your own comments to this post...we'll brieflty discuss it in class tomorrow.

Close Reading Questions for The Gothic Tradition, Chapter 4: "Critical Approaches" (pp.95-110)

(above: John Constable's Salsbury Cathedral from the Meadows (1835), a Romantic view of a Gothic landscape.  Constable, like Gainsborough, loved painting landscapes and tried to infuse them with typically "English" colors--ruddy browns, deep greens, dark greys and blues.  Though he didn't choose typically Gothic subject matter, this one naturally lends itself to Romantic sensibilities--perhaps the way Catherine first observed Northanger Abbey with Henry?). 

Answer TWO of the following…

1. What is the relationship between the writer, the reader, and the critic/scholar? Why might I make the argument (as Stevens does) that all three are necessary to give life to a literary work? What role does each one play in the process?

2. According to Stevens, why might the chief criticisms of the Gothic in the 18th century (debased, sacrilegious, addictive, and depressing) be “reactionary” in nature? Could these criticisms be motivated by political conservatives who feared what these works might to do society—particularly as they were read by the largest possible audience?

3. The Gothic movement was fueled by hundreds if not thousands of novels, few of which have survived the ages. Austen records some of Catherine’s favorite books as “The Castle of Wolfenbach, Clermont, Mysterious Warnings, [and] The Necromancer of the Black Forest” (all of which can be found at Valancourt Books’s website: http://www.valancourtbooks.com/index2.html). Many 20th century critics have claimed that “the literary quality of the tales of terror is not very high…” and “[their] climax soon dies, and is seldom memorable” (Stevens, 101). Can works that are not “great” still be important to read and study? How can a “popular” work with no literary pretensions still be discussed critically?

4. Based on the brief synopses of Psychoanalysis, Marxism, and Feminism, which approach do you feel would be most revealing/interesting in our two Gothic novels? What aspect of one or both novels would you examine in light of a Freudian, Marxist, or Feminist approach? Be specific and explain how might being a paper from this critical perspective.

Gothic Web Links for Paper #1 (and beyond)

NOTE: The questions for Thursday are in the previous post.  Be sure to scroll down! 

Below are some valuable websites for aiding in your Gothic research.  Some are from the "ICT Resources" at the back of The Gothic Tradition, others from my own snooping.  Use these in your paper to flesh out historical and cultural context, as well as locating other primary and secondary sources. 

CGFA Website: A virtual art museum, you can find links to the paintings of thousands upon thousands of painters from the Medieval Period to the early Twentieth Century.  Look in particular for the painters mentioned in The Gothic Tradition and in class: Goya, Gainsborough, J.M. Turner, Sir Joshua Reynolds, Fuseli, etc.  http://cgfa.acropolisinc.com/

The Literary Gothic: an extensive website devoted to everything Gothic!  Check out the "Resources" link for an endless bibliography of websites, books, and articles for your papers!  http://www.litgothic.com/index_fl.html

The Voice of the Shuttle/Gothic: an extensive critical website that is useful for all literary research; this is its exclusive page of Gothic topics and links.  Find out what Gothic literature Coleridge read!  Or the major themes of the "Female Gothic"!  http://vos.ucsb.edu/browse.asp?id=2540

Wikipedia/Gothic: Oh no--Wikipedia!  Stake it, stake it!  Remember, Wikipedia can be a useful tool if you use it intelligently.  Check out the clickable links, resources, and External Links that can lead you to a goldmine of Gothic information.  http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Gothic_fiction

Glossary of Literary Gothic Terms: This will be more useful as we get into the 19th century, but it still contains some useful critical terms to aid in your literary "dissections."  http://personal.georgiasouthern.edu/~dougt/goth.html

Close Reading Questions for Austen's Northanger Abbey, Chs.23-31

(above: a still of Catherine from the new version of Northanger Abbey, to be aired on PBS this Sunday, February 14 (Valentine's Day)!  On Monday I will post my own response to the adaptation, and hope you will respond to my response with comments. 

Answer two of the following...

1. Re-read Henry’s speech which follows his discovery of Catherine’s snooping (on page 186): “If I understand you rightly, you had formed a surmise of such horror as I have hardly words to—Dear Miss Morland, consider the dreadful nature of the suspicions you have entertained. What have you been judging us from?” How do you read this passage? Is this sense shocking her into an awareness of her overworked sensibility? Or does this speech have ironic implications that only the narrator (and perhaps the reader) can appreciate? Does English society “prepare us for such atrocities” (186)?

2. Somewhat related to the above, is General Tilney the true “monster” of the novel? Is he similar to Manfred—a real man working real “evil” amidst the Gothic terror and imagined prodigies? How does Catherine understand/account for his actions in the novel? Does she find them “Gothic”—or of a much more mundane nature?

3. In the last chapters, we get an interesting view of life in the Morland home—particularly in the interaction between Catherine and her mother. How does Austen depict this domestic world? How is Catherine understood here, and do you feel Austen’s portrait is sentimental or critical?

4. In her Introduction to Northanger Abbey, Marilyn Butler writes, “Austen’s compact with her readers is never puritanical. Traditional stories end with satisfied desire; surprisingly often this encompasses the desire for goods. Happiness comes in Northanger Abbey as a sitting-room with a window down to the floor, and a view of apple trees” (xlvii). Is she suggesting here that marital bliss is still tied to class and possessions? Despite Catherine’s sensibility, does Austen ultimately reward her heroine with a sensible match—a man of property and comfort? Do we think her sensibility will continue to thrive in this setting—or is Austen no longer interested in that?

Cultural Context: Haydn and Mozart

(NOTE: These are NOT the questions for tomorrow's class--you'll find them in the previous post.  These are notes that might give you another avenue of inquiry for Paper #1.  Enjoy or ignore as you see fit!).

The "gothic" in literature was partially influenced by German drama, notably the plays of Klinger and Schiller (as well as the works of Goethe and Hamann).  Kilinger wrote a romantic drama called "Sturm und Drang" (Storm and Stress) written in 1776 that dramatized the American Revolution--stressing sentiment and emotion over sense and convention.  The idea of shocking the audience/reader into sublime states and identifying with the extreme emotions of the characters caught on quickly, notably in music.  Much of eighteenth-century music was dominated by the Rococo style, which emphasized light, polished "event music" to be played in courtly settings.  Composers began to realize that music should do more than provide background music; it, too, could shock, surprise, terrify, and move its listeners to profound emotion.  Though not Gothic per se, this music channeled the same sensibility we find in Walpole, where the strange and the mundane exist side by side.

One of the most notable "sturm und drang" composers was Franz Joseph Haydn (1732-1809), who was employed (like many composers) as a "resident composer" to a wealthy Hungarian nobleman.  Even in the isolation of the country, Haydn picked up on the "sensibility movement" and began writing minor key symphonies and string quartets (musical works follow a strict key structure that determines their tonality and overal "feel."  A key in a minor key, such as D minor, sounds less resolved than one in D major; in the classical sense, a minor key is "completed" by a major key; an unresolved minor key can create tension and drama).  He wrote a series of famous "sturm und drang" symphonies, Nos. 44-49 (he wrote 104 symphonies total!), of which the most famous have subtitles: No.44 "Trauser" (Tragic), No.45 "Farewell" and No.49 ("The Passion").  These works seem to be composed for some unnamed tragic drama, as the music alternates from slow, dirge-like movements to break-neck, fiery string passages that conjure up pursuing fiends.  No. 45 is notable for its ending: a dark, jabbing theme is suddenly interrupted by a sad lullaby, which is played over and over, each time with fewer instruments.  By the end, all the instruments in the orchestra have dropped out, except for a few violins, sadly scraping away at the melody.  This was an in-joke to the musicians, who were not allowed leave to visit their families for the holidays.  Their employer got the joke after hearing the symphony and granted them leave (or so the story goes).  Haydn ultimately abandoned this phase of his career, only writing a few more minor key works in his later years, though one of them, No.84 "The Hen" has a fiery open which is then deflated by a "clucking" theme that sounded to his contemporaries like a hen!  He enjoyed using contrasts to poke fun at musical conventions and shock his audience (like Walpole). 

Less well-known for his "sturm und drang" works, but perhaps even more important for his contribution to the genre, is Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart (1756-1791).  He lived only a fraction of the time allotted to Haydn (dying at 35), yet composed nearly as many works and most of them of even greater complexity and interest.  Mozart traveled throughout Europe as a child prodigy, where he performed for kings, queens, and Popes, and even kissed Marie Antionette!  As a young man of seventeen, he became smitten with the sensibility movement, writing two notable works in the style: Symphonies 25 in G minor and 26 in E flat major.  No. 26 is cobbled together from music he composed for a romantic drama, and though short, has a suitably "pathetic" coloring.  No. 25 is one of his first major works, a truly "Gothic" work of frightening intensity (especially in the opening movement).  It begins with a jarring string theme, which sounds a bit like doomsday bells; it gets whipped into a frenzy, a few times sounding like a sped-up waltz, before gradually winding back into the shadows (this piece opens the movie Amadeus, when Salieri slits his throat).  Mozart was notoriously gloomy at times, and many of his later works, though not especially Gothic, have significant "minor key" moments, notably in the slow movements of his piano concertos.  Two important concertos (concertos are works for a solo instrument and orchestra, where the solo instrument--usually a piano--either dominates or battles with the orchestra), No. 20 in D minor and No.24 in c minor, exploit very Gothic sensibilities, each one pushing the eighteenth-century orchestra to its expressive limits (No.20 occurs notably in the film Amadeus). 

Two of his final works, the pathetic, quicksilver Symphony No.40 in G minor and his Requiem Mass in D minor exhibit the final flowering of Mozart's gothic vision.  The symphony is extremely restless, conjuring up one sublime sensation after another (notably the opening theme, which plunges the listener immediately into the drama).  The Mass takes this a step further, expressing a darkness that Mozart had never previously confronted (and then only briefly, such as his earlier C minor Mass, or possibly the Concerto No.20).  A Requiem mass is a mass for the dead, sung in praise of the deceased's soul, and concerns images of judgement and retribution.  According to legend, a mysterious nobleman commissioned a sick and penniless Mozart to compose the piece.  Already weak, the effort of composing probably helped do Mozart in, though some colorful legends suggest he thought the nobleman was his dead father, returning from the grave to demand satisfaction.  At any rate, Mozart died, and the nobleman never recieved the mass; Mozart's widow had one of his students complete it (it was only about 60% finished), and it quickly became a respected and influential work--particularly on the Romantic composers such as Beethoven, Berlioz, Schumann, Chopin, etc.  The Mass itself opens with a profoundly gloomy theme, as if conjuring up dozens of lost souls to sing for their forsaken humanity.  Gorgeous, otherworldly melodies folllow one on the other, particularly the last music he ever wrote, the haunting "Lacryimosa," which sounds like a soul breathing its last before slinking off. 

Follow the links below to hear excerpts of the music on Amazon.  I also have numerous versions of the above which I would be happy to lend you. 

Haydn: Symphony No. 45: http://www.amazon.com/Haydn-Symphonies-Nos-45-101/dp/B00000146H/ref=sr_1_6?ie=UTF8&s=music&qid=1265653852&sr=1-6

Haydn, Symphony No.49: http://www.amazon.com/Haydn-Symphonies-No-Lamentation-Passione/dp/B0000013X2/ref=sr_1_12?ie=UTF8&s=music&qid=1265653948&sr=1-12

Mozart, Symphony No. 25: http://www.amazon.com/Mozart-Symphonies-Clarinet-Peter-Schmidl/dp/B000001GC5/ref=sr_1_3?ie=UTF8&s=music&qid=1265652706&sr=1-3

Mozart, Piano Concertos 20 & 24: http://www.amazon.com/Mozart-Great-Concertos-Wolfgang-Amadeus/dp/B0000041LF/ref=sr_1_3?ie=UTF8&s=music&qid=1265654007&sr=1-3

Mozart, Requiem Mass: http://www.amazon.com/Mozart-Requiem-Aug%C3%A9r-Bartoli-Wiener/dp/B0000041ZS/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&s=music&qid=1265653804&sr=1-1

Close Reading Questions for Austen's Northanger Abbey, Chs.16-22

As usual, answer TWO of the following...

1. In Chapter 21, we encounter Austen’s spot-on imitation of a Gothic novel, complete with many of the hallmarks we recognize from The Castle of Otranto. How do you read this chapter in particular—as a parody (or satire) or a legitimate attempt to conjure up a sense of horror and the sublime? Does the tone of a giggling narrator lie behind this, or is Austen yielding to her own admiration of the genre and its possibilities?

2. How do you feel the Catherine/Henry romance is progressing in these chapters? Is it a dance of mutual respect and admiration, or does he appear more condescending and dominating? Consider their conversation in Chapter 20: is he teasing (mocking) her Gothic sensibility or using it to woo her more effectively? In other words, does he want to tame her or does he want to get “Gothic” with her?

3. Do you feel Austen is more critical toward the women in the novel than the men? Discussing Isabella’s change of heart, Henry notes, “It is probable she will neither love so well, nor flirt so well, as she might do either singly. The gentlemen must each give up a little” (II.19.143). Is this view of women (as inconstant flirts) one espoused by the narrator, or does it suggest a certain misogyny on Henry’s part?

4. The painting above, Sir Joshua Reynolds’s Mrs. Siddons as the Tragic Muse (1784) depicts a famous actress in theatrical mode. Though she is clearly acting here, more a character than the woman herself, the painting is still startlingly realistic—we can “see” her. Might this be true of the Gothic itself: that we need to see the “clockwork” behind the genre for it to have its full effect? Is the sublime in literature created by knowing it’s not real—that someone dreamed it up?

Close Reading Questions for Austen's Northanger Abbey, Chs.9-15

(above: "The Morning Walk" (1785) by Thomas Gainsborough, a painting roughly contemporary with this novel.  Note the somewhat Romantic landscape surrounding the couple and the increasing darkness; though both appear to embody Enlightenment ideals, they are venturing into a possibly Gothic landscape that threatens to engulf them.  Also--are they haughty English aristocracts or uncertain inheritors of the turbulent turn of the century?)

1. In what way does Austen distinguish Henry Tilney from the other characters in Bath (esp. Thorpe, Mrs. Allen, and Isabella)? Is she, as Aaron suggests in his response, closer to the voice and wit of the narrator? How do we feel the narrator, herself, feels about him (besides the fact that he is only “very near” being handsome)?

2. The Oxford English Dictionary defines “sensibility” as “In the 18th and early 19th c. (afterwards somewhat rarely): Capacity for refined emotion; delicate sensitiveness of taste; also, readiness to feel compassion for suffering, and to be moved by the pathetic in literature or art.” Austen wrote about this capacity in her early novel, Sense and Sensibility, where a younger sister’s “sensibility” is tempered by her older sister’s “sense” (meaning a more 18th century rationality, objectivity). Which quality do you think Catherine most embodies and why? Do you feel Austen celebrates or censures her for this attribute?

3. A consistent theme in Austen’s novels is the entrance of a young woman into society. However, such a rite of passage requires “experienced” chaperones to guide her on her way. How does Austen satirize the entrance and education of a young woman into society—and in this case, into the social wilds of Bath? What dangers or missteps does she encounter that were all too real for women in Austen’s time?

4. Chapter 14 is a delightful discussion of books and taste, in which Catherine seems to come up a bit short. Is this truly the case? Does Henry represent Austen here, the arbiter of true taste; or does Catherine also possess her own legitimate (if still unformed) aesthetics? Who gets the upper hand (if anyone) in this discussion—and be sure to note the narrator’s occasional interruptions.

Paper #1: The Eighteenth-Century Gothic!

For your first paper, you have three general topics to choose from, though each one is quite broad and invites approaches using both novels and other primary and secondary works.


GENDER

Discuss the Gothic heroine of the eighteenth century in Walpole and Austen’s works. Though Walpole’s heroines are actually trapped in a Gothic landscape, and Catherine only imagines herself to be, how might each exhibit certain Gothic characteristics? Does the setting and conventions of a Gothic story allow for a more emancipated view of feminine capability? Are these “feminist” heroines (or feminist authors)? Do the heroines defy society as well as the supernatural terrors that confront them? Or does the Gothic formula ultimately keep them in their place? How might a 21st century feminist (or feminist theorist) read these works? NOTE: with Austen, consider the narrator as a character as much as Catherine…

GENRE

While The Castle of Otranto is seen as the prototypical Gothic novel, and Northanger Abbey is in part a parody of this formula, how might each one contribute to understanding what “makes” a Gothic novel? Can both works be considered “Gothic”? Is Gothic in the eighteenth century less about the supernatural than its appearance? How essential is satire and irony to the eighteenth-century Gothic novel? Might Walpole be as tongue-in-cheek and parodic as Austen, and might Austen be considered more stoutly Gothic if she included at least one unexplained “prodigy” (i.e. a weeping portrait, giant sword, etc.)? In other words, what unites or divides these works as examples of the Gothic novel? And what separates these works from more traditional eighteenth and nineteenth-century novels (or in Austen’s case, from her other, more famous works)?

CULTURAL CONTEXT

In Northanger Abbey, Henry Tilney instructs Catherine on the current aesthetics of art:

“It seemed as if a good view were no longer to be taken from the top of a high hill, and that a clear blue sky was no longer a proof of a fine day…He talked of fore-grounds, distances, and second distances—side-screens and perspectives— lights and shades;--and Catherina was so hopeful a scholar, that when they gained the top of Beechen Cliff, she voluntarily rejected the whole city of Bath, as unworthy to make part of a landscape” (1.14.107).

Both novels makes references (whether subtle or overt) to the artistic life of their time. How might one (or both) of the works communicate directly with their artistic, philosophic, or musical peers? Find 2-3 additional primary sources in other genres, such as paintings (ex: Goya, Fuseli, Fredrich, J.M. Turner), philosophy (ex: Burke, Kant, Wollstonecraft) or music (ex: Haydn, Mozart, Beethoven) to compare to the novels. Where do the works intersect in aesthetic principles or overall philosophy? How might knowing one help us “see” another?

REQUIREMENTS:

I. Close Readings: You must perform close readings of the novels you use; do not summarize. You must analyze the texts at the level of language and examine what is happening and why. Don’t gloss over entire passages or chapters without showing us why you read it this way. Remember, we might not read or understand the passage the way you do, so don’t assume anything is obvious.

II. Primary and secondary sources: this means the novels in question as well as other works of the period (excerpts from other Gothic novels, Coleridge’s poetry, or other works of the period—not modern works) and critical works such as The Gothic Tradition, journal articles, books, etc.

III. Thought, enthusiasm and understanding: Remember, this is a 4000 level class! I want to make sure you’ve read the works thoroughly, thought about them prior to writing, and are committed to your ideas rather than simply jumping through hoops. I define “4000 level” as a level of interest and sophistication; if you write a tepid paper that could just sneak by a 2000 level class, I will summon Walpole’s gigantic helmet and crush your GPA! (kidding, but still…)

IV. Consistent Citations and References: Make sure you cite everything properly and include a thorough Works Cited page. Please let me know if you have any questions about MLA format, etc. And please don’t make up a new citation method on the fly—no need to invent the wheel here.

V. At least 5-6 pages: less than this would be seriously underdeveloped; more than this is certainly welcome. I care less about counting pages than what you actually have to say, though I don’t buy the argument that you have to add “BS” to get 5 pages. Typically, a shorter paper lacks specific detail and a thorough investigation of the argument. I want to see you “thinking” throughout, and thinking is messy—it takes space!

V. DUE FRIDAY, FEBRUARY 18th by 5pm. You lose a letter grade a day for a maximum of two days (in other words, I will accept it no later than Sunday for a grade). You are allowed to revise the paper following my comments, ideas, and suggestions.

GOOD LUCK! Write well and with inspiration! If you are a senior, this may be one of your last chances to write about literature and have someone actually care! If a sophomore or junior, this could be your chance to shine!