Well, it has been a month since the last blog and since then we have read some very painful works for truly tragic literature. I will begin rambling about the lesser of the two evils, Shakespeare's play, Hamlet. I was slightly surprised; I did not hate this story as much as I thought that I would, however I found it difficult to understand in some parts, but the discussions cleared most things up for me. However, I am still unsure how anyone can consider Hamlet to be a hero. The tragic part I get: he is more pathetic than tragic in my opinion though. I define a hero as someone who accepts challenges and obstacles and does their best to overcome them. But Hamlet did not do anything! Yes, he plotted and formulated a plan on how to seek revenge on King Claudius, but it is all in his head. He does nothing! And because of this, many other people are affected and everyone dies...yippee Shakespeare (he really knows how to end a story). Then there is the dreadful tale of Wuthering Heights. I wish that someone had just dropped a brick on my head. This story, if you can even honor it with that term, had a good, very basic, foundation. I think that the idea of how the lives of two families, isolated from the rest of the world with an outsider in their midst, sets an unusual scene for conflicts to occur. Every character in this story has some connection to every other character and for me, I felt that nothing was left for the reader to interpret. The characters lived in a dull world (I pictured greys and mucky greens as I read) and they all have the same names. Miss Bronte, is it really too much to ask for a little differentiation? I suppose that there was some symbolism for naming Cathy after Catherine, but I think that those types of ideas were lost when one falls asleep reading. Neither book consisted of any true action (the duel at the end of Hamlet aside). And the characters in both stories seemed to lack substance and realism. As I read I found myself wondering, "How could anyone be so stupid?" I boggled my mind to consider that a person could be as passive as Hamlet or as self-centered as Catherine. And if there were people like this back when these stories were written, how much has humanity declined since then?
And then we began learning about existentialism. Everything is defined by the individual and there is no meaning to life. It really got me thinking, along with the questions proposed to us in class, which if I may say so, made me terribly uncomfortable. Anyway, when the ideas of existentialism were put simply, I got an idea. If above all else in an existentialist's mind life means nothing and only causes despair, then the works that I despise from this month make a bit more sense. I realize that this is probably way off, but hey, who knows. The sentimental conspiracy is what caused Hamlet to want to avenge his father's murder. If society had not already made it the proper thing to do, the prince may have never gone looking for such trouble. And then there is Heathcliff and Catherine. He was so sure that he was in love with his childhood friend that he spent his life secretly pining away for her love in return. But it was never to be received and she passes away at a young age. Catherine, the girl who thought that the world revolved around her, died quickly and quietly, without so much as wilting a flower. Her life meant nothing, and Heathcliff's life was miserable because the only way he decided that he could be happy was if he was with Catherine.
The points of existentialism fit both stories, in strange ways I admit, but I think they could work. And if I'm totally wrong, that's okay too, however, if it is reflected in my grade I will be disappointed. We live in a world that seeks to compare each and everyone of us, in everything we do. And grading is a way that we as students have learned to be defined. It is a sad, sad world.
