Unwell, lovesick, Or Truly Changing?

Edna seems to have finally torn away pieces of a "mask" she wears in order to maintain her content, and yet impassionate life with her husband.  She does not seem to be actively doing so, but rather to be doing so out of pure emotion due to the fact that Robert has departed for Mexico.  Simply, she cannot control herself, and seems to be lovesick, longing.  Why is Edna finally truly becoming "Edna?"  That is, why has she stopped hiding her passions, her ideas, and her sense of self behind the idea that she is Mrs. Pontellier?  She even begins to act differently at home, leaving he house on calling day, taking up painting, and associating with people of which her husband is not fond.  Is Robert truly the cause of such change, or is he rather just the trigger?
Is Edna truly misbehaving as a wife as Mr. Pontellier believes (by both today's standards, and/or the standards of the time)?  Why does no one else seem to notice or fault her "strange" behavior?  Consider that even the doctor recognizes that the behavior is not the behavior of an unwell person, but rather that of a discontent woman.  He mentions that perhaps she just needs space, and considers to himself that there might be another man.  What, then, should one make of her behavior, and what does it truly look like?
Overall, is Edna truly lovesick for Robert?  Could she perhaps be unwell, as her husband has suggested?  Could she be simply growing out of a phase, or changing in personality?
Perhaps Edna is unwell, lovesick, and truly changing.  That is, perhaps she truly does love Robert, or in the least had come to love his company and attention.  By becoming infatuated with that attention and company she was certainly "lovesick."  She perhaps became unwell when that bloomed into more of an unhealthy want for his attentions (for a married woman, that is) and in a way, she became unwell with searching for a way to keep his affections, to maintain a connection with him.  This sickness perhaps made her unable to use thought and self control to maintain her emotions, and thus caused a change in her behavior, perhaps a change in herself overall. 
Then again, perhaps she is simply sick of her husband and his "over attentiveness." 
What, then, caused such a behavioral change in Edna?

"Indirectness" in theme and structure

I wasn’t sure what I wanted to focus on for this blog. My first idea involved looking at the marginal figures in the text: in particular, the army of voiceless servants and menials without whose ministrations one would hardly have the time to “[snuggle] comfortably beneath the eiderdown” (XXIV). The Pontelliers – together with their social circle – live, as do most of us, in an environment which is climate-controlled. (Or does the climate control them?)

Then I thought I ought to inject some bloodless formalism into our discourse.

And then I thought we might use formal inquiry as a bridge to the thematic. Let’s try this last option.

I want to look at the places where our narrator adopts an indirect rather than a direct reporting of dialogue. 

Here’s what I mean.

Direct: “When is he going?” she asked of everyone in general.

Indirect: Madame Ratignolle hoped that Robert would exercise extreme caution in dealing with the Mexicans, who, she considered, were a treacherous people, unscrupulous and revengeful.

We’ve read so many novels that most of us probably hardly ever register the distinction consciously: a “skillful” narrator will often interweave the two so that “lulls” in the conversation – or dialogues that, for whatever reason, would be too long or tedious in the reporting – are condensed into little bridges that lead to the next bit of directly reported speech. Paying attention to the proportions of direct and indirect speech can help us get a clearer idea of the text’s thematic or narrative emphases. We can also think about which characters regularly receive “indirect” rather than “direct” treatment. (Or which get no speech at all.) These observations can lead to conclusions that have to do purely with narratology (the nuts and bolts of how a story is structured); or we can ask whether the text thematizes its own inclusions and omissions.

To make my meaning clearer, I’ll provide a kind of “dialogue map” for the beginning of chapter XV. Edna has just entered a dining room. I=indirect, D=direct. Speakers in parentheses, addressees in parentheses in parentheses. Subject of speech outside parentheses. Actions capitalized.

DIALOGUE MAP:

I (several persons, Victor’s voice predominating(no particular addressee)): No subject reported.

EDNA SITS AT TABLE

I (several persons(Edna)): Robert’s going to Mexico.

EDNA LOOKS AT ROBERT

D (Edna(everybody in general)): "When is he going?"

D (unspecified speakers(Edna)): "To-night!" "This very evening!" "Did you ever!" "What possesses him!"

D (Edna(unspecified)): "Impossible!... How can a person start off from Grand Isle to Mexico at a moment's notice, as if he were going over to Klein's or to the wharf or down to the beach?"

D (Robert(unspecified)): "I said all along I was going to Mexico; I've been saying so for years!"

MADAME LEBRUN KNOCKS ON TABLE WITH KNIFE HANDLE

D (Madame Lebrun(everybody)): "Please let Robert explain why he is going, and why he is going to-night…Really, this table is getting to be more and more like Bedlam every day, with everybody talking at once. Sometimes—I hope God will forgive me—but positively, sometimes I wish Victor would lose the power of speech."

I (Victor(mother)): Victor laughed sardonically as he thanked his mother for her holy wish, of which he failed to see the benefit to anybody, except that it might afford her a more ample opportunity and license to talk herself.

One could go on. But from the short passage I’ve examined, one can make a few observations. The scene opens with animated conversation on an unspecified topic. Something is clearly afoot, though we, as readers, don’t yet know what it is. We, like Edna, are in the position of a person who has just entered a noisy room and for whom no single thread of conversation is yet distinct. We then learn, along with Edna, that Robert will be going to Mexico. But this very important piece of information is not attributed to a particular speaker. The most important thing about the “source” of this information is, in Edna’s mind, that the source is NOT Robert: Edna learns this personally affecting piece of info from an indiscriminate social chorus.

In the bit that I’ve transcribed, all of Edna’s dialogue is direct, and all of Victor’s is indirect. This trend continues throughout the rest of the scene at the dinner table, despite Victor’s apparent “predominance” in the conversation. Most of Victor’s effusions are only tangentially related to the subject that is of most concern to Edna: Robert’s departure. Through the use of indirect discourse, Victor provides us with the “background chatter” of a lively dinner table even as he is prevented from usurping the narrative focus.

I’ll end with three questions about “choral characters”: that is, characters who, like Victor at the dinner table, fill in the background: characters whose speech is mostly indirect. I want to know if this “indirectness” has thematic as well as structural meaning.

What is the role played by the isle’s ever-present lovers? The lovers “speak in whispers of matters which they rightly considered were interesting to no one but themselves.” Couldn’t we extend the narrator’s judgment to cover Edna and Robert as well?

 What about Edna’s quadroon servant? Has she been given a single line of direct (or indirect?) dialogue thus far? Does her constant but “silent” attendance shed any light on Edna’s narrative? Allow us to think about her plot in a different way?

The same questions can be applied to the ever-present “lady in black.” 

The Effects of Robert Lebrun’s Abrupt Departure

The sentiment which she entertained for Robert in no way resembled that which she felt for her husband, or had ever felt, or ever expected to feel. She had all her life long been accustomed to harbor thoughts and emotions which never voiced themselves. They had never taken the form of struggles. (The Awakening, Ch. XVI)

Chapter XV begins with Edna entering the dining room “out of habit.” Her neatly habitualized world, however, is suddenly dismantled when she hears that Robert, her close friend and confidant, is departing to Mexico immediately. She begs Robert for an explanation, entreating, “I’ve grown used to seeing you.” Nevertheless, he sets off, coldly withholding his reason for doing so from Edna. And as soon as he departs, Edna realizes that she has been faced with her greatest fear: She nearly surrendered herself to an object of her infatuation and, on the cusp of revealing her emotions, he left her high and dry. This marks a turning point in Edna’s “awakening.”

The Pontellier family eventually returns to New Orleans. At home, Edna begins to express her defiance more openly, deliberately neglecting her wifely duties—les convenances. Tormented by Robert’s leaving, she has another “fit” (if I should call it that) at the end of chapter XVII, striving to crush her wedding ring with a boot heel and shattering a vase. This, coupled with her outburst of tears earlier in the novella, expresses Edna’s inner anguish. She has repressed some part of herself that yearns to emerge from within her – to “awaken” – but, although she has had momentary realizations, she has not yet fully come to terms with this “other self.”

Edna’s behavior in this section certainly indicates that her “awakened self” is slowly coming to light. She no longer heeds any of Léonce’s censures; she unearths a few sketches in chapter XVIII and reveals them to Madame Ratignolle; she is, as Mr. Pontellier observes, “not plainly herself” (XIX). Edna is not of the “old Creole race” that Léonce proudly boasts he is a part of (XXII); she is an outsider. Robert’s departure not only causes her to experience one of her greatest fears, but also intensifies her detachment, a disinterest meant to initiate a withdrawal from the manufactured Creole society into her “self.”

So, with that being said, here are a few discussion questions:

1) What do you guys make of Edna’s behavior? Is she acting inappropriately or is society’s decorum superfluous? (I know, Daisy Miller-esque)

2) What do you make of Léonce seeking medical attention for Edna? What does it say about him and his understanding of his wife?

3) How is her life on Grande Terre different from her life in New Orleans? What were the more salient changes or transitions that struck you?

-- J.C.

Beyond the Sea

     So far in Chopin's The Awakening, I have noticed a drastic change in the character and behavior of Edna Pontellier after her "conversion" on one particular evening. Having listened to a piece of music by Chopin, and having discovered her ability to swim, Edna seems to have transformed overnight into a new being, one with a heightened sense of self-awareness and a stronger grasp of her surroundings. Here is what I was able to gather about Edna both before and after this "awakening".


     Edna Pontellier is presented as a homely woman who is subservient to her husband. Having been raised in the South for most of her life, she and her neighbors display certain kinds of courtesy and mannerisms one may associate with the story's setting of Louisiana. She finds much solace in the comfort of her friends, Robert Lebrun and Madame Ratignolle, with whom she engages in the pastimes of spinning or painting. There are also hints in the book that are quite suggestive... her relationship with Robert comes across as tangentially sexual, but I could be wrong. She seems to live a decent life, but not a particularly happy one, as she cries on the porch at night for no apparent reason (Chopin 9). She later confides to Madame Ratignolle on the beach that she rarely reflects upon her life, and when she does, she catches fleeting glimpses of a meadow or the ocean waves, namely, any type of infinite and endless horizon.


     Edna's attitude towards her husband is the first observation I made after her "transformation". Instead of being passive, Edna becomes defiant towards her husband's pleas to come inside in Chapter XI. It seems that she has been liberated from habit and obligation to her husband, and is now beginning to think for herself. She spends her first day with Robert, sailing the coastline and attending Sunday morning service. She is still adjusting to her new impulses, and wishes to leave the service after feeling a sudden surge of emotion and drowsiness (Chopin 53). Her countenance appears to be more radiant, as she falls asleep and wakes up peacefully from her island nap in Chapter XIII.


     Based on this summary, which may or may not be accurate, I will put forth three discussion questions:


     1) There seems to be a common thread of mysterious imageries surrounding Edna and her "awakening". Ghastly visions are frequently alluded to, along with an entire Chapter (VI) devoted to the lure and beckoning of the sea, almost like a Siren. There is also some attention given to the moon; its strong colors are observed in the late afternoon, and its pale light is observed upon the waters at night. What do these imageries suggest about Edna and her "awakening", if they suggest anything at all?


     2) Of all the people Edna feels close to, she seems very gravitated towards Robert. What is it about Robert and his character that Edna finds so compelling? What does this say about Edna's relationship with her husband, Leonce?


     3) This story appears to be set in a time when people and their social classes are still defined by race or ethnicity (Creole, quadroon, Acadian, etc...). Do these labels have any impact on your opinions about the characters in the story?






Brandon Gerlinger

Drama, Drama, Drama

My readings thus far have proved this to be a novel of self awareness but with any good novel and further discovery there is drama.  Let's talk about the queen of drama, Edna. She's not the dramatic type to destroy something or throw things but she is drama at its finest. Edna is a MARRIED woman, who seems to be unhappy with things at home. However, she meets this man, Robert, who likes the company of women (male Daisy Miller?). I may have read ahead and these two fall for each other, only complicating things.

Aside front there drama of relationships, let's discuss the drama of  the interactions of people. Edna and Adele seem pretty mellow, perhaps of their deep rooted friendship. Let's explore the relationship between Edna and Mademoiselle Reisz.  After all, Mademoiselle Renzi knows of the "affair" between Edna and Robert. Aside from knowing all the gossip, when they very first meet, she plays a beautiful song on the piano that causes Edna to loose it and break down in front of everyone. She thinks it is because of the beauty of the music, seriously? Maybe she is our dram queen who is slowly realizing what she is doing!

*please don't read the above as angry, I am a person who thinks drama is humorous and I love to read about characters that attract it!*

Here are some questions to think about after reading my little rant about the drama that ensues from the novel.

1. In chapter VIII, Robert tells of the story of Alcee Arobin. Why do you think that is?

2. We are introduced to the relationship/interaction of Edna and Mademoiselle Reisz. How do you think their relationship with further grow and what might be the consequences of it?

3. What relegation did Edna experience when she declined Robert's invitation to walk on the beach in Chapter VI?

-Kellie

Edna, Robert and the Sea. Oh my!

Edna Pontellier is a very interesting character. One moment she seems like a a good wife and even fairly content with her life and then the next moment she's in tears and refusing to come in to the house. Chopin sets Mrs. Pontellier up to be the perfect candidate for an affair. As of where we left off in the the reading, an interesting point has been made about how she and her husband came to marry. It wasn't a mutual falling in love, romantic experience, but instead his unyielding devotion and her acceptance that she would probably never have the celebrity that she dreamed of marrying. She claims to have fallen into a sort of mutual respect with her husband, and knowing that because the "love" that she had for him was not of a romantic nature, it would not leave her the way the feelings she had had in the past had. This creates a problem with the addition of Robert. He openly admits to acting like a love sick puppy to several women on the island in the past and has now begun following Edna around in the same manner. This is reminiscent of her husband's devotion to her, which she rather ignored, and may become her undoing as a woman of this polite and close knit society.


Chopin's use of the sea in this text is incredible. She's created an incredible connection between Edna, music and the sea. Edna is incredibly closed off at the beginning of the book, she explains to Mrs. Ratignolle that she did not have many friends as a child, her family was never really close, and she never was able to express her feelings to the men that she had previously admired, and yet she is able to open up to Mrs. Ratignolle while watching the sea. She has an intense moment of accomplishment, as well as loneliness and fear while swimming, and feeling the ocean around her, only to have that taken from her, rather rudely, form her husband. This sea is what separates her from her childhood home of Kentucky, almost like a prison, and yet, while in the water, she feels alive and free. I found it interesting that the sea seems almost like a motherly figure, allowing her to think about, ponder and free herself from her problems, while still intimidating and punishing. It's interesting to think about it in that sense, because Edna is accused of being a poor mother to her two boys.


I have to feel bad for Robert though. He obviously has no idea of what he wants in life. He jumps from woman to woman on the island, no matter if they have prior engagements and follows them like a dog. It is obviously his cry for acceptance, for love, but he's looking in all of the wrong places. This is going to cause a huge problem for him when he realizes that Edna might just take him up on those misplaced feelings.He obviously is not emotionally mature enough to realize what kind of mess he is going to make, we see his lack of maturity in his conversation with Mrs. Ratignolle about Edna.

Questions:
1. What do you think about the connection between the way Edna and her husband got together and the way that Robert has entered her life?

2. Does Mrs. Ratignolle seem like a trustworthy character or is there some hidden malice or jealousy underneath? Do you think she tried to warn Robert off for Edna's sake or because she was jealous of him treating Edna the way he used to treat her?

3. Is Mr. Pontellier a bad husband? Does he send too many mixed signals?

So, not actually a Daisy, but...

Here, for those of you who are interested, is a photo of the germ painting I recently made, after it had a chance to grow for 24 hours!

Grown with: E. coli (green grass/ stems, leaves); Salmonella (flower on right); Serratia (flower on left)

And here, for those of you who are still skeptics, here is a link to some info on Fleming, the man behind the idea!

Best, and happy awakening this weekend,

Dr. Renzi

Wait...What?

After finishing the final parts of Daisy Miller, I found that I was not quite sure what to make of the ending. I was completely baffled by the entire story, and the ending forced me to heave my copy across the bedroom into the wall. What just happened? She DIES???

This ending needless to say completely caught me by surprise and challenged the traditional endings that I have had previous experience with. When Daisy becomes sick, I initially thought that the plot would carry forward in a very traditional manner. Winterbourne would be at her side constantly, proving his love for her while Giovanelli would be absent, showing Daisy that who she really belonged with was in front of her all along. If she did in-fact end up dying, I expected an incredible duel over her grave, or some kind of action on the part of Winterbourne seeking revenge for his love lost....Clearly none of this happened.

After a lengthy period of relaxation I was able to more clearly reflect on the final plot points, and what they could suggest for the overall meaning of the story. The rejection of the traditional romance plot and the eventual death of Daisy could serve multiple purposes, pointing to some inherent moral within the story or what Henry James personally thought about people such as Daisy. Her death was a direct result of her being out late at night and not being cautious...is this then the fate that is deserved by people who are careless in their associations?

A passage that I found challenging was when the narrator states, "But, as Winterbourne had originally judged, the truth on this question had small actual relevance."(79) The question he is considering is was she really engaged to Giovanelli or merely saying so to garner more of his attention? However that question we are told by the narrator has practically no actual relevance as she does not live. It seemed to me that the narrator was stating that all of Winterbourne and Daisy's adventures/conversations/interactions were completely meaningless in the face of her dying. He scraps everything before this statement as having no actual relevance to the story. Therefore, in the face of death, Daisy's promiscuous attitudes along with Winterbourne's objections and warnings are meaningless. Is James saying here that the pursuit of love and these social interactions are meaningless unless fulfilled? Or that love in general has small actual relevance compared with the finality of death? This statement was one that I found very interesting and would like to look at more closely.

Another point worth looking at more closely was the graveyard confrontation between WB and Giovanelli. Gio understands that he would never have gotten to marry Daisy even if she had lived, so what was the point of her flirting with him then? He understands that she would have married someone more like Winterbourne, yet his association with her eventually lead to her death. Does this make him the most blame worthy? Or is it Daisy's own fault for leading him on?

1) Does the death of Daisy speak to a flaw of her character or moral standing? Did she receive justice for her flippant ways or was she struck down unfairly?
2) What does "small actual relevance" refer to? Love in general? Specifically between Daisy and WB?
3) Is it Giovanelli's fault Daisy died? How large a role would you assign him in her death?

Half a dozen wonderful mustaches

This novella seems really strange to me but I can't figure out why. If this story was written in 2014, people would be all over it, saying it's a great piece of feminist literature showing women outside of traditional gender roles before it was socially acceptable, which I can kind of get on board with. But it still doesn't make sense to me. We were asked to think of what we expected and what we are surprised by in Daisy Miller and here is what I've come up with so far. It's rough.

First, I'm honestly not surprised by the news that Daisy has a lot of Roman suitors. She knew Winterbourne for a few days and asked him to visit her in Rome, which to me foreshadowed her unabashed enthusiasm for new suitors. She even mentions that she's had quite a few men on her arm when she first talked about introducing gentlemen to her mother.

Speaking of her mother, I was surprised that Daisy made a big deal about her mother being overcritical of her male suitors. It made me do a double take when they were in Rome and her mother almost encourages her to keep bringing men around by continuing to leave them alone for extended periods of time.

I don't know what Winterborne sees in this girl. She is clearly stringing him along and almost showing off by talking about Giovanelli and Winterborne in the same sentence straight to Winterborne's face. What do you guys think Winterborne finds "delicately graceful" about Daisy? Is it her non-traditional way of acting around not just men but all people? She seems like she puts on a polite air but is really very blunt and obvious beneath her smile.

I also thought it was interesting when Daisy claims "Gracious me! I don't want to do anything improper!" when all along she has been acting like she can do whatever she wants and not care about the consequences of her actions. Then, when Mrs. Walker chases her down in a carriage, she states "If this is improper, Mrs. Walker, then I am all improper and you must give me up!" Daisy does not care what other people think about her. What do you think James is implying here? Is he portraying a scandalous girl who will get what is coming to her in the end? Or is he trying to show how a girl could act just like a man could at this time and somehow it's terribly improper. Is he pointing out the double standard or just giving the reader a warning?

After the argument between Winterborne and Mrs. Walker, why do you think Winterborne wants her to stop the carriage so he can rejoin Daisy and Giovanelli but instead turns and walks away? And why go to his aunt's house? Is it because he knows she was right all along? I would think going back to the person who hates this girl the most would be admitting defeat.

What does this all mean about the innocence of Daisy? What role do you think her innocence plays in her pursuit of suitors and her level of caring about her reputation?

Confusion due to Convention

           Thus far, in my reading of Daisy Miller, I have noticed the puzzling affects of Daisy's behavior for Winterbourne. Daisy, because of the societal norms in this period, was apparently acting out of her proper role as a young woman. She was a flirt and highly disapproved of by others, especially Mrs. Walker as we saw in the carriage scene.

           I don't find Daisy to be acting in sort of way that is what I consider risky, but, of course, we live in a very different day! However, for her time, Daisy was acting out and her unorthodox behavior led on Winterbourne and possibly other suitors which I found to be unfair. I like Winterbourne's character; despite his snobbish aunt's remarks, he desires to acquaint himself with Daisy. Like Mrs. Costello, Mrs. Walker finds Daisy’s behavior to be very unorthodox and crass. Both of these women come from an age where there was an even greater emphasis on ladylike comportment and they are used to a certain European elegance. To these women, Daisy’s carefree attitude is disagreeable.

          As far as we can tell, Daisy is a very curious girl. We can't blame her for that; she's presented with adventure and novelty in cities such as Geneva and Rome. As I said, she needs to be careful because there are men, like Winterbourne, who are not used to this sort of behavior. The social conventions, that so heavily emphasize women’s behavioral standards, cause confusion and misunderstanding for men. For Winterbourne, Daisy is most certainly a unique girl. Beyond behavior norms, Daisy often perplexes others by her selfish and unrefined words and actions; she often gives the impression of a spoiled and ornery person. Her behavior has led me to lose conviction that she acts in the spirit of innocence and inquiry.

Daisy Miller’s behavior challenges social norms, making her a disagreeable personality to the elderly, traditional kind and an enigma to poor chaps like Winterbourne who just want to get to know her.

Questions:
1. As for the character of Daisy Miller, what overarching message/theme do you think Henry James is conveying to his audience through her? In other words, what is the point of the character of Daisy Miller?

2. Do you sympathize with Daisy Miller because she is simply a young girl desiring experience or do you see her as a troublemaker and a flirt? If you were a European at this time, would you be disturbed by an American frolicking throughout your world in such a manner?

3. The story is told through the eyes of Winterbourne and we know what he thinks in his head is much different from what he actually says; what does his narration tell you about the character, Winterbourne?

A few linky things

Hi folks!

A few things, for those inclined.

First, the site I mentioned today in class about myths retold (be forewarned: expletives abound).

And, from day one, an article regarding the experiments with denying babies your affective response, aptly titled the "Still Face Experiments". Further research should be possible from this, if you're so inclined!

Have a great weekend, folks, and I'll see you on Tuesday!

Best,
Dr. R

Some opening definitions

I expect these ideas will change over the course of the semester, but here are our (excellent!) starting definitions from Tuesday's class.

What is necessary to make a life livable? What does livability entail?

·        -- Life is to be enjoyed, with moments of laughter, romance, experience, and knowledge. A life well lived entails the moderation of life’s most beautiful gifts, but each person is also obligated to contribute to the society to which he or she belongs. Therefore, life must also be partially devoted to one’s community and country.

·       --  Aside from basics such as food, water, and shelter, I’d say love. A careful balance of autonomy and co-dependence, of self-sustaining growth and mutual harmony. No man is (always) an island.

·         I think that intangible things, specifically love and acceptance, make life livable. Of course, everyone needs food, water, shelter, healthcare, etc., but I think a livable life is one in which a person is fulfilled emotionally, physically, and mentally. Also, a harmony with the external world. Livability entails, in my opinion, not only basic necessities but things that allow a person to thrive and be content—safety, acceptance, and needs being met.

·      --   In order to make life livable, all people must be given an equal universal value. People also should have an understanding of other cultures, traditions, religions, etc., in order to live in harmony with others. Livability requires an equal ability to succeed for all people.

·        -- Empathy. Of course, all the necessities for survival. But, we need to work to give people opportunity to pursue their life’s purpose. Livable entails working and cooperating with others to learn about their needs/desires as well as your own. That way, we can develop and prosper through relationships and understanding of self and others. Living the life each individual wants to pursue in order to strive to be their best.

·         --Happiness. Livability means being comfortable in your own skin.

·         --What is necessary to make life livable? Meaning. Social purpose. What does livability entail? Meaningful endurance, if not pleasure. The promise, if not the reality, of recognition.

·        -- Basic needs: that is, food, water, and shelter, and either happiness or contentment are needed to make life livable. Livability entails being able to have what one needs without worry, and to be able to make something of it.

·        -- Basic needs being fulfilled (food, water, shelter) and a source of motivations (love, advancement, etc.). Livability: being able and wanting to continue going through life, I guess.

·       --  Having enough resources in order to provide yourself with some measure of stability and comfort. Fun, excitement, love for others. Freedom!!! Having reasonable comfort and resources. Providing opportunities; taking advantage of these options. Having comfort and people who love you.

Update on the admin things

Hi folks,

Just to let you know, I've now posted, on our Canvas site, your blogging responsibilities--so take it away! Looking forward to talking poems on Thursday, then jumping into our first novella  next week!

Best,
Dr. R

Welcome to Transatlantic Literature

Hello folks, and welcome to what I hope will be a wonderful semester together of learning! I'm so excited to get to meet you (or, for those I already know, re-see you!) on Tuesday and to begin our work together.

A few things:

1. For the first day, we'll be going over course basics and then looking at a couple of poems. You can read these in advance of class if you like, but there's no requirement to do so--I will be bringing copies for you to class. The two pieces are "Dover Beach" by Matthew Arnold and "The Dover Bitch" by Anthony Hecht. You can find these, if you like, under our course tab for "Files"

2. In the next day or so, I'll be uploading an optional reading for you all from Judith Butler's Undoing Gender, which I think does some really interesting work to contextualize the issue of "livable worlds". Though this reading is optional, I HIGHLY recommend that you browse it. In addition to being really compelling and beautifully, accessibly written, I think it raises some stakes that are compelling for us to begin to unpack in the upcoming weeks.

Hope you all have a lovely final few days of break; again, I'm looking forward to talking soon!

All best,
Dr. Renzi