Shakespeare surprised me with this play. As a person who doesn’t cry in movies and generally only enjoys books with happy endings, you can imagine my mouth wasn’t exactly watering to sample this tragedy by Shakespeare. While King Lear definitely represents a tragedy in every sense of the word, and it certainly did not by any means leave me feeling warm and fuzzy as I read over the last lines, I did find myself content with the ending, and despite my original skepticism, I must say that I am, in fact, a fan of the play.
As far as Coppelia Kahn’s argument that King Lear’s transformation revolves around his increasing understanding of his inner woman, I am not certain I can completely agree with that. Sure, it is not manly to cry. Even in today’s society, though open displays of emotion are more acceptable and welcome, the dogma still exists that men are to be strong and tears are a sign of weakness. But, can you really say that Lear’s entire transition from a hard, short-tempered man who is incapable of feeling love and measures this powerful emotion by how eloquently one can profess it, to a man whose survival rests on his ability to receive and reciprocate the undying love of his one loyal daughter, comes from him being more “womanly”? There is no question that Lear shows more emotion towards the end of the play than we ever would have expected based on the harsh character we are introduced to in its opening scenes, but how can it be determined that his wise moments are solely to the credit of his becoming more feminine, as though both genders are not capable of remorse for wrongdoing? (Though this sentiment might provide the backbone of bitter women support groups everywhere.)
While Kahn’s focus is on the absence of a maternal role throughout the play, a reader cannot ignore the significance of the women that are present, as one will find the female characters serving as both Lear’s downfall and his saving grace. His decision to relinquish his power to his two daughters that are able to articulate expressions of love that don’t exist, and to shun the one who loves him so dearly that she cannot find the words that will suffice is the beginning of the end of Lear’s reign as a dominant, revered leader. This decision is the epitome of his emotional ignorance, but serves as the guiding force behind his emotional education, as well. As Goneril and Regan feign love and proceed on their path of deceit that drives their father to insanity, Cordelia’s reappearance in her father’s darkest hour serves as the gesture that allows him to feel and understand true love for the first time, and proves just enough to make a madman sane.
I agree that King Lear’s transformation in this play does find him expressing previously repressed emotions, and finds a once infallible king of great stature now willing to kneel in repentance for his sins; however I also feel that this transformation is a universal one, not one based on gender. I don’t concede that King Lear begins this play a man and ends it a woman; I believe that the better analogy pertains to the recurring theme of the “fool” throughout the play. Initially, Lear is the old fool that his evil daughters, Goneril and Regan, portray him to be, but by the end of the play, King Lear has acquired the wisdom to merit the white hairs in his beard.
Monday, February 23, 2009
Monday, February 9, 2009
Persepolis
Persepolis is a passionate, emotion-driven and evoking book. Marji takes the reader on a rollercoaster of feelings from sympathy, to anger, to pride, yet she somehow manages to pepper the very serious themes of her story with her never failing sense of humor. “Politics and sentiment don’t mix,” is an ironic statement coming from Marji’s father, when the premise of the book revolves around the various climates of emotion the Satrapi family perseveres through, as their country is in a state of incessant political turmoil. While it may be an ideal thought of the political realm that policies and feelings do not overlap, in reality it is just that, a thought. Politicians are people, and people are driven by their beliefs; thus, political actions reflect personalities.
The politics presented in Persepolis are especially interlocked with emotion because they often attack personal liberties. The Iranian women are forced to wear scarves to cover their hair, which is believed to release fragrances, enticing sexual urges too overwhelming for men to resist. One way Marji’s intense inclination toward rebellion is displayed is in her refusal to wear her scarf properly. She is often shown with her scarf pushed back on her head, allowing some loose hairs come through in the front, a practice that earned her the label of “whore” on many occasions. Her mother and grandmother similarly display their distaste for this law, as they begrudgingly wear their scarves in public, often incorrectly, and instantly rip them off as they return to the privacy of their home.
Another way that the Iranian government and “Guardians of the Revolution” attempt to 'roboticize' their women is by monitoring the way they dress. Anything reminiscent of western culture is perceived as “decadence”. These laws especially spark a fire inside of Marji. A fire which her parents let burn, and sometimes, add fuel to. They purchase such decadent illegal items for Marji when they go to Turkey and craftily manage to smuggle them back through Iranian customs. Marji’s parents also ignite her passion for justice by insisting that she educate herself as much as possible on the facts of her country, and warning her not to accept the swayed word of her teachers as truth. Marji often speaks out in class questioning the teachers’ contradicting lessons, another practice that does not add to her popularity among authority figures.
Also creating an indefinable line between politics and sentiment is the fact that the Satrapi family lineage is comprised of a long line of political activists, whose vigorous pursuit for what they believed in often resulted in persecution. Members and friends of the family, alike, willingly risked their lives for the fight against political injustices, and oftentimes, that was exactly the cost. To say that politics and sentiment do not coincide would be to belittle the fight which these men so strongly believed in, and, in turn, detract from the value of their lives.
The politics presented in Persepolis are especially interlocked with emotion because they often attack personal liberties. The Iranian women are forced to wear scarves to cover their hair, which is believed to release fragrances, enticing sexual urges too overwhelming for men to resist. One way Marji’s intense inclination toward rebellion is displayed is in her refusal to wear her scarf properly. She is often shown with her scarf pushed back on her head, allowing some loose hairs come through in the front, a practice that earned her the label of “whore” on many occasions. Her mother and grandmother similarly display their distaste for this law, as they begrudgingly wear their scarves in public, often incorrectly, and instantly rip them off as they return to the privacy of their home.
Another way that the Iranian government and “Guardians of the Revolution” attempt to 'roboticize' their women is by monitoring the way they dress. Anything reminiscent of western culture is perceived as “decadence”. These laws especially spark a fire inside of Marji. A fire which her parents let burn, and sometimes, add fuel to. They purchase such decadent illegal items for Marji when they go to Turkey and craftily manage to smuggle them back through Iranian customs. Marji’s parents also ignite her passion for justice by insisting that she educate herself as much as possible on the facts of her country, and warning her not to accept the swayed word of her teachers as truth. Marji often speaks out in class questioning the teachers’ contradicting lessons, another practice that does not add to her popularity among authority figures.
Also creating an indefinable line between politics and sentiment is the fact that the Satrapi family lineage is comprised of a long line of political activists, whose vigorous pursuit for what they believed in often resulted in persecution. Members and friends of the family, alike, willingly risked their lives for the fight against political injustices, and oftentimes, that was exactly the cost. To say that politics and sentiment do not coincide would be to belittle the fight which these men so strongly believed in, and, in turn, detract from the value of their lives.
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