Book Review: Jane Austen's Sense and Sensibility

The Jane Austen Cycle: Sense and Sensibility

It has scarcely been three days since my last Austen entry, and here I am again thinking and writing about the works of Jane Austen. The more I read, the more I admire the genius of Austen. I have read Sense and Sensibility before (oh, a good five years ago I believe), but it did not leave me with the same impression I received from this latest reading.

My former complain of this novel is Austen's control of plot - Austen did not need such an expansive plot to convey what she wants to convey. This I still maintain - is not a most mature work. The problem is this: one of the chief relationships - that of Elinor and Edward - is already decided at the beginning of the novel; it goes through suspense, but hardly development. On the other hand, the other relationship - that of Marianne and Willoughby - basically terminated half way through the novel. The plot structure is a bit awkward if we look at it from this point of view. One can argue that the absence and space is needed for Austen to fully explore the difference between the "sense" of Elinor and the "sensibility" of Marianne. Granted. But unlike the plot of Emma, in which Emma's journey of self-discovery could not have been otherwise, Sense and Sensibility can.

But two things I must quickly praise: firstly, Austen wrote a novel about money as much as it is about the "sense" and "sensibility" of Elinor and Marianne. The novel opens with Mr. Dashwood not willing to help the Dashwood sisters with their living, and it ends with Edward Ferrars secured with a good living. Through out the entire novel, references to money are made constantly. Hence it can be seen that Austen is highly conscious of the materiality of her society, and she is highly critical of it.

The other thing I must mention here is Austen's wit. The ironies of Sense and Sensibility, for some reason, I find it to be especially sharp. I won't comment on them, but I'll quote three selections for my readers to judge for themselves.

The first one is from the second page of the novel, describing John Dashwood, Elinor's brother: "He was not an ill-disposed young man, unless to be rather cold-hearted, and rather selfish, is to be ill-disposed."

The second one is from nearing the end of the novel, when Edward Ferrars and Elinor are to be married: "One question after this only remained undecided between them...they only wanted something [that is to say, some money] to live upon. Edward had two thousand pounds, and Elinor one,... and they were neither of them quite enough in love to think that three hundred and fifty pounds a year would supply them with the comforts of life."

The last one is from the very last paragraph of the novel: "Between Barton and Delaford, there was that constant communication which strong family affection would naturally dictate; and among the merits and the happiness of Elinor and Marianne, let it not be ranked as the least considerable, that though sisters, and living almost within sight of each other, they could live without disagreement between themselves, or producing coolness between their husbands."

Humourous Analogies

I

A wife (or a partner in general) is like a bowl of rice - not necessary the most flavourable, definitely not exotic, but wanting and needing it everyday. One can hardly get too much of it, and it provides for one's daily energy (and at times inspiration!).

II

Each and everyone of us is a letter from the game of Scrabble. Some of us are letters like Q or J, high in value but difficult to be with; others are letters like F or B, not necessary very common, but not without its charm; still more of us are like the vowels, easy to get along, but requires a good social context to be of value; finally, a few of us are like the blanks, fit with everyone and any situation.

III

What we conceive as "home" is like an online blog: it's not really there, in the sense of actual existence. It is a place where anyone (if permitted) can access it, yet no one but yourself really knows it. It is a place of memories - how we perceive "home" over time is the same way as we perceive our entries online.

Book Review: Jane Austen's Mansfield Park

The Jane Austen Cycle: Mansfield Park

I've actually finished reading the book four days ago. But no matter, I'll quickly jot down some of my thoughts of this work.

I think Mansfield Park is perhaps the most underrated work of Austen's six novels. Maybe others didn't think so, but I certainly did unrated the work without reading it. Mansfield Park is so unlike the other Austen novels because it lacks a brilliant protagonist. In Pride and Prejudice, we have the unbelievably charming Elizabeth; in Emma, we have the lovely Emma ("faultless despite of her faults"); in Persuasion, we have the reflective Anne; in Sense and Sensibility, we have the contrasting sisters Marianne and Elinor; in Northanger Abbey, we have the comic mock protagonist Catherine.

Fanny of Mansfield Park is a girl with low self-confidence, lack of wit; but if anything compensates for this lack of brilliance, she is highly moral and self-conscious. Throughout the novel she displays a genuine moral virtue, which is to be admired. She certainly does not take charge in any of the actions in the novel; she is a very passive character from the beginning to the end. But her moral stance makes her active, in the sense that she actively defends her values. Women of the time is mostly a yes or no sayer; they are not encourage to ask questions. Most of the time women are expected to say yes, but several times Fanny makes her stance by saying no. I'm not sure if Austen wants us to like Fanny; on the other hand, I'm sure Austen doesn't want us to hate her. She wants us to pity her.

I say pity her because Mansfield Park is a novel that very subtly critiques the upperclass ideology at the time. Fanny is a victim of this ideology. Ever since she has moved into Mansfield she has internalized the superfical upperclass values: wit, virtue, learning, elegance, etc. The trouble is she does not realize that these values are not to be genuine; rather they are mere appearances. As Mary Crawford in the novel comments, if Henry (her brother) and Maria's extra-martial-affair is not caught, then they are perfectly fine as lovers. This, of course, absolutely shocks Fanny. But it doesn't shock us as readers (given that you are familiar with 18th/19th century upperclass culture), and Austen produces a very profound reflective affect for her 19th century readers.

The other passage that is very interesting, in which Austen displays her dazzling subtlety in critiquing the upperclass. When Fanny, nearing the end of the novel, revisits her old improvished family, she is disgusted by the manners of her family. She finds them vulgar and desparately wishes to return to Mansfield. She doesn't like the loudness and the vulgar words the family uses; she does not like the smallness and lack of taste of the rooms. What's ironic is that Austen has been criticizing Mansfield since the beginning of the novel. By making Fanny feel wanting to go back to Mansfield, even though Mansfield is hardly her home (as Fanny herself mentioned at the beginning of the novel) Austen effectively creates a post-colonial situtation for Fanny. Now, true enough, Fanny does marry Edmund and (supposedly) live happily ever after. But what about Susan, Fanny' sister, whom she brought to Mansfield at the end of the novel to effectively replace her? I do not know if there is or will be another Edmund. I certainly hope Susan does not turn into another one of George Eliot's Dorathea. Jane Austen is very subtle in her raising the question of the fate of Susan, completing her critique of upperclass ideology.

Romanza

For Viriginia - I wish her the happiest marriage
Vaughan Williams: Symphony #5

Behold! the stars of memories
Shining through the air of Time.
Some lights are dim, and some, sublime;
A few are precious histories

That form a new constellation.
A group of stars that shines most bright,
Giving the night a warm delight,
Lays ground for wedded devotion.

If night should be of starless dark
Or storms disturb the peace of sleep,
Do not forget the meanings deep
Behind the constellation' spark.

Is there a wrong way of holding chopsticks?

The answer is no! Typically speaking, the function of chopsticks is to assist in the eating of food. If someone holds the chopsticks in such a way that it interferes with the function of the chopsticks, ontologically speaking the chopsticks ceased to be chopsticks. In other words, chopsticks are not chopsticks until they function as chopsticks. Hence, there can be no wrong way of holding chopsticks - you must either hold them rightly, or you are not really holding chopsticks.

I bring up this point because my father, who saw the supposedly "wrong" way of my cousin's holding her chopsticks, tries very hard to correct my cousin's ways at the dinner table. You can see that I wholeheartedly disagree with him. I think he is being tremendously arrogant in thinking that he holds the "ultimately correct" way of holding the chopsticks and none of us (meaning the young ones in the family) do. I keep on telling him: if you do not like other people imposing ideas to change you, do not try to change others by imposing your ideas.

He thinks that I'm too western - and true enough.

Quotables

"Why do we laugh?"
- There are those who suggest that laughter is a social phenomenon: if nobody is around to observe us, we do not laugh. I am incline to believe otherwise - I laugh even when I'm doing a solitary activity, like reading or watching TV. Laughter, I think, is a physical purging of our mental "stress". I think when we, in our mind, find something funny, a kind of tension is build up, and we need to release that tension; hence laughter. Think of the opposite situation: why do we cry? Surely, tears are not necessary a social phenomenon. I'm sure lots of people have cried before when they are alone; and they cry only when they are alone.

"These Korean dramas are garbage...after you watch it, you forget it."
- My friend does not believe that Korean dramas can be extremely profound. If she is talking about authorial intention, then I have to agree that they are not meant for critical analysis. On the other hand, since we as audience are as much the creator of the drama as the director or the actors, it follows that we can easily create meaning to something that might seem mundane. If you do not buy this argument, think of it in another way: what we consider as "profound" is not necessary an profound answer to a question, but it can also be a profound question. Korean dramas, upon critical reflection, most certainly can raise some very profound questions. Ultimately, it really depends on whether you put in the effort to think about these questions or not.

"...without emotion, we are robots."
- For me this statement is not quite right because it neglects the idea of free will, creativity and historicity, of which historicity is the most important. You can assume that both free will and creativity are innately "programmed" by some higher power (just like a robot) and that we are programmed to think that we are free and creative. But history is something outside of the programmer: it is not merely a succession of one human being generation to another...[to be continued]

"no, i'm not [going to IB]...don't want to seem dumber than I already am in a class full of geniuses."
- With the assumption that I'm talking to the top 20% of the highschool population who are capable of going to university and are actually planning to go to university, I'll list out the few fallacies in the quote by another of my friend:
1. Geniuses do not require training or mental development - that is definitely not true, especially in the Arts. Do we see young famous literary critics or historians?
2. All people going into a specialized class like IB are smart - that is also definitely not true; what is true is that some people think they are smart, or that they are mislead by the arbituary marks they received at school.
3. There is something wrong with being seen "dumber" than other people - well, that is a more difficult point to address. Let's think of it this way: unless you know that you are a genius, otherwise you are bound to be dumber than other people; and since even if you are a genius, you will probably be good at one or two subjects, you are bound to be "dumber" than a lot of people in many regards. If this is the case, why worry about that?

Two Etudes

I

Oh let me melt in Spring and see again
Your unreservèd smile - a coat of sweet
Nectar your finger brushed and counterbrushed
An infinite times on my finite lips.
In ignorant generousity you gave,
And I received with deliberate greed,
Drowning every taste bud with that summer drink,
Then sucking dry my lips, craving for more.
But now that you are departed, my tongue,
Licking around my autumn lips, can taste
Nothing but anesthetic bitterness.
Paralyzed between water and earth, I'll
Remain frozen in wintry sleep, until
My crave is indulged by that fervent touch.

II

I am a mortal god and I possess
The power to create Life - a drop of
My godly blood explodes to create Time
And Space, memory, desire and science.
My presence fills all space and time, but I
Am rendered helpless by your absence; and
I know not what to do, but can only
Dedicate each new universe to you.
And now, lying beside the candle light,
A quick lightning of the blade, and a brief
Thunder of pain before the slow bloodfall,
I ask: how many universes and stars,
Suns and moons, turmoils, diseases and death
Must be made before you return to me?

Book Review: Mary Shelley's Frankenstein

To my surprise, the name Frankenstein is not actually the name of the monster, but the name of the creator. Also to my surprise, the Creature is anything but a monster in essence. The Creature is a monster only because Frankenstein insists on calling his creation a monster.

Shelley's work is a subtle criticism of several things. Firstly, human beings are not as great as we would like to believe. The quick execution of the innocent Justine is an example of how we think we know the truth but in reality we haven't got a clue. Secondly, human beings are hypocrites. We talk of being generous, being accepting, being virtuous - the Creature falls in for that, and is instead instantly repelled. The Creature never gained acceptance, even if he has all the heart of a human being. We all fall too easily into prejudice. Thirdly, Shelley criticizes this idea of infinite progress in rational thought. Science must have its limits; human beings playing God (or Prometheus for Shelley) are fated for destruction. The essence of civilization is not in the scientific or the technological, but it is in history, poetry and music (art in general, as we see just how the Creature is amazed by books and folk music). Finally, and I think most importantly, Shelley points out what David Hume said, that Reason is the Slave of Passion. In the novel, Frankenstein thinks that he's reasoned his way to not make a female partner for the Creature; but very clearly, his reasoning is under the influence of his own prejudice against his creation. After he has finished the Creature, out of no where he talks of the "horrid" monster. There is no ground for that apart from his terrible physical appearance. But two years later the monster is as (if not more) eloquent in speech as Frankenstein himself. The Creature also has all the human passions and virtues. There is no reason to continue to call him a monster. As to the Creature's murders, it is no monsterous act - the Creature is angry, and considering his own situation, I do not believe that his act is THAT bad; tons of human beings did much worst in history, and both Frankenstein and the Creature know that. Frankenstein cannot get himself out of the sway of emotions.

The narrative technique of Frankenstein is simple enough; but what is remarkable about this novel is its infinite wealth. The four points I've mentioned above are but a few interpretation of the text. Here, as concluding remark, I will say that I can also do a post-colonial reading of the text, by assuming the Creature to be the unfortunate colonized; or a Nietzschean-existential reading, by assuming the Creature to be a Nietzschean hero and Frankenstein himself to be the antithesis.