Challenger Approaching

It has happened. Someone has finally risen up and challenged the very ideology of our beloved Literature is a lot like a 5 Layer Beefy Burrito, and I feel it is my duty to defend my honor from this assailant known as Laurence Perrine. The time has come for this blogster to take up the smash ball and defend the concept that there truly is no definite meaning to The Written Word, and any one person's interpretation is just as good as the next. This is particularly evident through poetry, where the figurative language and symbology symbolism are open for an infinite number of interpretations, because they are in essence, indefinite. For those keeping track at home, that makes two Super Smash Bros. references and a Boondock Saints reference all in one bite-size chunk of text. Go me.

I will start this show with a generalization: All things made by humans are indefinite, that is to say, not always clear-cut and 100% true in all situations. Before you get all up in a tizzy that I just generalized, please allow me to make my point. Math is definite. Math was not invented by people. Two plus two is four. Physics is definite. Force is mass times acceleration. It took humans to discover these things, but they were true before the discovery, because they are independent of human thought and emotion. I can deny the existence of gravity 'til my face turns blue, but I will still hit the ground. On the other hand, to make an example, music was created by people. Granted, the physics behind music always existed, but the grouping of music into what sounds good and what sounds bad is a human invention. Therefore, I declare that music is completely open to one's own interpretation and preference. I can say that Beethoven's "Moonlight Sonata" is about peace and tranquility. You could say it's about some current event at the time of its writing. Mr. Strawman could say it's about a long lost love, or chips and salsa, or maybe it was just nighttime when Beethoven wrote it. One of us has to be right, right? No. Whatever the song makes one think and feel is the song's meaning. We are all right, if that's what we truly think. I say that this tendency to have infinitely many interpretations is due to its nature as a human invention. Language, literature, and poetry, as human inventions, are therefore no exception.

This of course brings us back to the original matter at hand. Is there one definite interpretation of poetry? Can any one person look at a piece of poetry and declare that there is one definite meaning, and all others are wrong? I like to think that such arrogance is nonexistent amongst the literary elite, but Mr. Perrine would tell us differently. He declares that a correct interpretation is defined as the one that accounts for every detail of the poem, and the one that relies on the fewest assumptions. I, on the other hand declare that it is, not just difficult, but outright impossible to form an interpretation that accomplishes either of these tasks. The problem essentially occurs in the difference between poetry and prose. The two are, essentially, like entirely different languages. I think Perrine alludes to this himself when he says "[a poet] cannot say "What I really meant was..." ... without saying something different (and usually much less) than what the poem said. Italics were added by yours truly for emphasis. And because I really like italics. If the actual poet himself can't be expected to come up with something that fully encapsulates every minute detail of a poem, then I just personally feel it would be impossible for any person to sum up a poem in prose and fully interpret exactly what it means. No matter what, something gets lost in translation, from poetry to prose, and from writer to reader. Thus, I do declare it's impossible to ever create an interpretation that satisfactorily accounts for any detail of the poem. The best we can ever hope for is to focus on the details that personally appeal to us and form the best interpretation we personally can. Thus, there is no right or wrong; only personal interpretation.

I think this means I win, yeah?

Although if you disagree, I suppose that is entirely up to your own personal interpretation of my writing.

Nineteen - Last Words

"'We could have had such a damned good time together.'...'Yes, isn't it pretty to think so?" (p. 251). These are the last lines of the novel, and are therefore probably important. There was also something about bicycling and a beach somewhere in this chapter, but I don't get that. I get this though. Okay, so Brett is utterly delusional. She has idealized the only relationship that she can't have literally to the point that she can't see herself living any other way. Her thought process appears to progress thusly: "All the relationships I've pursued have ended in disaster, I cannot pursue a relationship with Jake, therefore, only a relationship with Jake will not end in disaster." I'd put down about a 98% chance that even if Jake didn't get his tallywacker blown off, the Brett-Jake duo would have ended exactly the same way as all the other relationships in this novel: everyone gets mad and intoxicated, not necessarily in that order. But Brett has idealized it to the point that she really believes that no matter what, if things could have worked out, everything would have been sunshine and rainbow-spewing pandas. However, I like to think that things worked out for the best because they can't make the sticky. All the other relationships that have been based on sex have fallen apart, but Brett and Jake, whose relationship seems to be based purely on unconditional love, as opposed to lust, has held together all the way through the end of the book. I think Jake's mildly cynical response shows that he recognizes this and can at least appreciate an eternal existence in The Friend Zone.

This is The Friend Zone. I can think of no better way to end our blogging adventure than with a demotivational poster.

Overall, this was an okay book. I could have thought of some better ways to spend the last week of summer, but I was recovering from major oral surgery anyway, so no big loss.

Eighteen - Belmonte

Belmonte makes me sad =( He was once top dog of this whole bullfighting syndicate, but now even he can't live up to his reputation. He's essentially lost his livelihood. In a way, I think he sort of resembles the Lost Generation as a whole. They all fought in a war and saved the world hoo-rah, but after it was all said and done, they were left without anything to do besides get drunk. They've lost that sense of purpose that they once had. Now, Belmonte is dusting off the cape and poofy pants in order to re-enter the bull ring, and suddenly he finds he just can't do it anymore. He now has also lost his purpose in life. Granted, it's for a different reason, but really he's exactly the same as Jake, Brett, and the entire Lost Generation. Now he's lost his aim, his goal in life, and all he has left is just wandering around aimlessly getting wasted. Poor Belmonte...at least he still has his canned food corporation. wait...

This is Del Monte. I am mistaken.

Seventeen - Was There?

"'Was there?' said Bill" (p. 208). That's right, Bill good buddy, a fellow died. I find this interesting. A person gets gored in the street, and, except for a single waiter, nobody really seems to care. The festival goes on, and everyone gets really really hammered, just like they did yesterday. It seems quite similar to Cohn, actually. He suffers a severe mental breakdown and probably goes slightly insane, and the general response from most of his so-called friends is essentially "don't let the door hit ya on your way out." I declare this to be an analogy. Crowd is to dead guy as Friends are to Cohn. woo. Next up we have Brett, destroyer of men. Is that an epithet? hoo hoo, look at me go. Anyway, it appears that every man that Brett comes into contact with suffers emasculation, depression, night sweats, uncontrollable laughing, and indigestion. Those last three were made up. However, there is a bit of a recurring theme here that every guy that chases after Brett just ends up worse off than when they started. Jake abandons his values in order to chase that tail, Cohn punches out his friends, Mike becomes a straight up jerk (although that probably would have happened either way), and eventually Romero will probably burst into flames. Poor chap. At least, his livelihood will go down the tubes. Anyway, we gain some handy insight into why Brett lives her life how she does. Frankly, Hemingway, I think it's a little late in the game to be throwing out character development. Try to get that done on the other side of the climax next time, kaythx. Oh that reminds me, I've decided that Cohn's hissy fit is the climax of this tale. Don't worry, I have reasoning. This whole novel, people have been ripping on Cohn. Even as a young lad, I'm sure the boys at Princeton called him "Connie" and ran his skivvies up the flag pole. So we've got this sense of building tension all the way up through the novel. However! because of Cohn's gentlemanly and old-fashioned chivalrous nature, he just takes it, over and over. So there's this building tension, and therefore sort of rising action that seems to push the plot along. And then BOOM chapter 17, he just snaps and beats Jake straight into unconsciousness. He gets pushed over the edge, and the climax happens. However, his brutal pwnage of Jake doesn't just serve as a plot device. It's also symbolic of the fall of his old-school morals. A gentleman does not just cave his buddy's face in. By showing Cohn abandon his values for violence, Hemingway is showing the shift from the old prewar morals and values of gentlemanlinessicity for getting drunk and having fights. This is the way of the Lost Generation, he is saying. Cohn's way is outdated. He recognizes this, and tries to salvage it with a handshake, but ultimately, the Lost Generation just ends up laughing at this pathetic attempt to salvage his honor.

These are boxers up a flagpole. "Connie" is inscribed on the wasteband. Kids can be so cruel.

Sixteen - Interesante

Exactly two interesting things happened in this chapter. Well, maybe more, but these are the only two I noticed. Firstly, Mike delivers a crushing falcon punch of words straight to Cohn's poor little sad Jew face: "Why don't you see when you're not wanted, Cohn? Go away" (p. 181). Then he almost makes the mistake of striking a boxing champion, but luckily, the confrontation is averted. For now. I think the particularly important thing here is figuring out why Mike flew off the handle. It's all too easy to just write him off as being drunk, borracho, muy borracho. However, I doubt that's it. I think the reason why he goes postal on Cohn has a lot more to do with who Brett happens to be sitting next to. Yeah, I'm looking at you, Pedro Romero. Mike gets mad because everybody in the room can smell the hormones in the air, and everyone knows little Pedro's going to be the next guy to have a go at Brett. Tsk tsk. But rather than doing the acceptable thing, he goes crazy on Cohn, like everyone else in this book. It's easier to blame the Jew than to actually address the problem at hand. One could almost call it a foreshadowing of World War II. Except that this book precedes said war. So this unarguably means that Ernest Hemingway could see into the future.

Important thing number two is that Jake is a tool. In that by the end of the chapter, he completely goes back on everything he said at the beginning of said chapter. At first, Jake attempts to protect Romero from evil foreigners who will ruin his bullfighting career. He tells Montoya not to show him the letter so as to protect him from foreign influence. However, later that night, he helps Brett track down Romero and throws her into his lap. Figuratively. This sounds an awful lot like a foreign influence that could be detrimental to Romero's career. So essentially, Jake goes back on his word and betrays both his old friend Montoya and his new friend Romero simply because Brett bats her eyes and asks real nice like. I do declare, he's a tool. And it sounds like Jake's feelings for Brett undermine everything he believes in, from fishing to bullfighting, and is proving detrimental to his life.

These are tools. Jake is one.

Edit: This is a Falcon Punch, Mr. Costello

Fifteen - Bullfighting

Pedro Romero is an intriguing fellow. Like the good Count Mippi-something, whose existence everyone seems to doubt, Romero seems to act as a foil to the entire Lost Generation. He seems to act as a symbol for everything that is pure and genuine and real in the world. "Romero never made an contortions, always it was straight and pure and natural in line....Romero's bull-fighting gave real emotion" (p. 171). Other people must rely on cheap fakeries like money, but Romero is the real deal, able to create actual genuine emotion in the people who watch him. Also worth noting is the fact that people seem to refer to him as "Romero-the-bullfighter." His occupation is as much a part of him as his name. You don't see that in other characters. We don't primarily think of Jake as a journalist, or Cohn as an author, or Brett as a...does she even have a job? The Lost Generation seems to collectively hold a job simply for the purpose of having money to get wasted. Romero, on the other hand, takes pride in what he does. His occupation is his identity, and it gives him an aim, a goal in life. I also find it worth noting that during the bullfighting session, Hemingway's writing style seems to reflect Romero's fighting style. Hemingway adopts short sentences without frills, metaphors, and clever wordplay. Rather, he just tells what happened. It seems to resemble Romero's style, in that he doesn't waste time with flashy flourishes, but simply moves straight and purely, not a movement wasted.

This is bullfighting. It doesn't look so hard to me.

Fourteen - Thinking

Oh goody, there's nothing like a chapter dedicated to a single character just thinking the night away. Seems like a soliloquy, except in a novel. It's even more fun when they're too drunk to walk. Anyway, I noticed pretty quickly that Jake's focus was primarily on money as he pondered in bed. Well, not exactly about money, but whenever he thought about things, he described them using money-esque terms. Saying things like "Enjoying living was getting your money's worth" (p. 152), or "The world was a good place to buy in" (p. 152), or saying that "the bill always came" (p. 152). It seemed odd to me that he was so fixated on money. It was like he had no way to describe relationships or life other than through money itself. In one paragraph alone, Jake says the word "pay" or some variation seven times in a single paragraph. So what's the reasoning behind this money-based fixation? I think it's supposed to mean that, to the Lost Generation, money has replaced their sense of values. Jake is unable to describe relationships and life with words like "love" and "friendship" because he just doesn't understand these things anymore; they have no meaning to him, now that he's simply wandering aimlessly through life. Money is the only thing that seems tangible and attainable to Jake and his friends. Jake's late-night powerthink seems to show that money has essentially replaced emotion.

This is money. Money, so they say, is the root of all evil today, but if you ask for a raise it's no surprise they're giving none away.