Friday, April 13, 2012

Linden as a Human

I felt that this interpretation of our former president wasn't as offensive as many seem think.

Many people I've discussed this with have cited the ways in which Johnson is viewed as weak or obnoxious as reasons that this interpretation is disrespectful or diminishes Johnson's memory. I disagree with this assumption. If anything, i think that David Foster Wallace wanted to make Johnson more human by making him both sympathetic and relateable.

 The way that we have been trained to treat presidents does a few separate things to how we view them as people. For one, we are taught that the President represents the country as a whole. He is meant to be wise, respectable, and level-headed in his approach to everything. Because of this way we portray our leader, we also find ourselves unable to relate to them.

We work so hard to make them seem professional and focused that we could never picture them doing a normal everyday task. This habit has changed for the most part, with the development of larger journalistic groups and the advent of paparazzi, but for Linden Johnson, many still viewed him as a wholly serious individual.

Those who didn't respect Johnson despised him. His involvement in the Vietnam War made him the closest relateable image for protestors to latch on to. This meant that Johnson was only ever viewed as traditional strong or diabolical and heartless.

Wallace uses the human flaws and "gross" asides to take apart the concept of Jonson we all hold in our countries collective memory, smashing it to pieces like taking a sledgehammer to a statue. Wallace also serves to present a human Johnson by showing the man's reaction to many socially and emotionally pressuring situations, such as the protestors heckling him.

Wallace allows the reader to consider how they've viewed great leaders of the past. By presenting Johnson in a human and vulnerable context, he's reinforced the idea that no one person is beyond doubt, weakness, or vulnerability. Ideally, a reader should walk away from this book with a new perspective of politics and celebrity of today.

Understanding symbolic injury

When Dana first lost her arm, I quickly recognized that it would have important symbolic importance. Using loss of limb or injury in general (also exemplified by Kevin's scar) as symbolism for a painful past or loss of innocence, has been a long-running theme in literature, film, and interactive media, and I've always enjoyed the element when it is used.

The reason I enjoy the symbolic event so much is because of its effectiveness. When a character loses a limb it is an obvious visual change. They are severely hampered, and they are constantly reminded of the event that stole it from them. Films like The Empire Strikes Back understand that seeing a person lose their arm is a brutal thing to see, and so when Luke is disarmed (ha) we are just as shocked and upset as he is. From that point, Luke is no longer a pure and honest innocent, and doubt begins to fill his mind with the revelation of his father's identity.

The use of scars as symbolism has also been done effectively in series like Avatar: the Last Airbender. In that series, the character of Zuko was an optimistic and ambitious youth, but when he angers his father the young prince is severely burned, leaving a horrible scar on the side of his face. From that point on Zuko was sullen and bitter, carrying his shame in the same way he carried his scar.

In these ways, scars and losses of limb can be some of the most effective ways to demonstrate a characters hardship, and here is no different. When Dana looses her arm, it symbolizes how she has lost part of her own innocence. She has left it behind, and she can never be the same person she was before. This specific use of the symbolic element reminds me of the Coen Brothers' interpretation of True Grit, a story in which the young girl Mattie, loses her innocence (along with her arm), and becomes bitter and cold. On the whole, this is one of my favorite forms of physical symbolism.

Time Travel as a Metephor

I've always enjoyed stories that involve time travel. It's truly the epitome of the fish out of water scenario, but in these specific situations, the main character is constantly viewing their new setting as either the origins or result of the setting they've become familiar with. It wasn't until Kindred that I realized how perfectly this represents historical analysis.

A historian is presented as a tragic hero by Butler, a soul who is forever cursed to look back upon the mistakes of the past without any ability to change them. The same is true for Dana. She is quite literally forced to view the events and ideas of the past and not only accept them as unchangeable, but also understand them as an inseparable part of her culture's history.

The framing device of time travel allows the author to give a more personal explanation of a historians process, allowing us to better understand how history affects us. In a way, the book has the same goals as many of the historical novels we've read: transforming the reader into their own self-aware historian. I really admire these books for doing this, and think that time travel has been one of the most effective so far, because of how it provides a surrogate for the reader's modern mindset.