I must admit, I marveled at the world of difference between Cordelia and her older sisters. How could these three be sisters? Cordelia embodies a sort of idealistic femininity with its traditional values of compassion, devotion, honesty and humility; and plays this role throughout the play. Regan and Goneril, on the other hand, are characteristically masculine (to an extreme), and possess a warrior's intensity and values - intent on obtaining and maintaining power with no consideration for those they cut down on their way there. Cordelia values her family, while her sisters care only for themselves.
While Shakespeare omits any mention of the queen, I find my mind grappling for a mother character. She is not present at the outset, that much is certain - but I wonder what role Lear's wife played in the rearing of the children. Probably, it is not key to analyzing the story itself, but it is intriguing to think about. How could a mother's sensibilities root themselves so strongly in the youngest daughter, while skipping those that came before? Or maybe my assumptions made regarding the queen's character were flawed: what if, if fact the woman was cruel and conniving? In this way, she might have bestowed her evils upon her eldest and died before she could pollute the mind of the young Cordelia. (Though my reading of the King challenges this hypothesis.) My curious nature begs a prequel to Shakespeare's tragedy. Still, such details shall not impede my analysis further.
The attributes of the daughters have [briefly] been discussed; what to say of the king himself? At the opening of the play, Lear is at the top of his game - a powerful ruler that has proven his prowess on the battlefield and on the throne. No one would or could challenge his masculinity. At the close, he has become a wandering old man clinging onto reality with little success. But what is the cause for his lack of sanity? Copellia Kahn suggests a shifting of sensibilities from a masculine to feminine mentality. She claims King Lear is initially unable to properly read the truth of his daughter's proclamations of love, as the patriarchal world in which he lives lacks the facility to comprehend truth in the matriarchal realm of love. It is not until he loses his power and his mind that his long-denied femininity surfaces, granting him a lens to see the truth of Cordelia's quiet devotion.
Indeed, when Lear's power begins to crumble, he sees more clearly. He realizes that his eldest daughters have manipulated and sabotaged him - their own father. He gets to the point where he can relate to Cordelia's plight, and he cries tears of shame for having subjected her to such severe punishment.
I must say that Kahn's observation that "[King Lear] learns to weep and, though his tears scald and burn like molten lead, they are no longer 'women’s weapons' against which he must defend himself" brings my mind back to the nonexistent prequel. (Was his wife a shrew that manipulated him with tears?) Honestly, this blurb is just for me ... overlook it. Please.
Monday, February 23, 2009
Monday, February 9, 2009
Persepolis,continued...
"Politics and sentiment don't mix."
The most intriguing path for me to traverse first is one that leads to religious sentiment. It seems to me that the words of Marji's father express an unrealized dream. For if politics and sentiment didn't share the same governmental cage, the country would be a different place. Her father remembers Iran before the revolution, when the nation's politics weren't as enmeshed in religion.
Though, as we have seen through our own eyes, it is truly impossible to keep the two entities separate. (Remember prayers for rain in our state's capital?) Not to say that that's a bad thing; in my personal opinion, faith is a strength. But as far as I'm concerned, no faith should be forced on anyone (I am perfectly content to read my Bible while you study your Koran). Iran should stand as a cautionary tale - what could happen if the separation between church and state totally dissolves.
History seems to require frequent glances at the rearview mirror. We must constantly examine our successes and failures so as to proceed forward.
The most intriguing path for me to traverse first is one that leads to religious sentiment. It seems to me that the words of Marji's father express an unrealized dream. For if politics and sentiment didn't share the same governmental cage, the country would be a different place. Her father remembers Iran before the revolution, when the nation's politics weren't as enmeshed in religion.
Though, as we have seen through our own eyes, it is truly impossible to keep the two entities separate. (Remember prayers for rain in our state's capital?) Not to say that that's a bad thing; in my personal opinion, faith is a strength. But as far as I'm concerned, no faith should be forced on anyone (I am perfectly content to read my Bible while you study your Koran). Iran should stand as a cautionary tale - what could happen if the separation between church and state totally dissolves.
History seems to require frequent glances at the rearview mirror. We must constantly examine our successes and failures so as to proceed forward.
Persepolis
In regards to the statement that "Politics and sentiment don't mix":
I don't think Marji believes that the two things are completely immiscible. To her, nostalgia and sentiment were her boat on the sea of politics. She makes light of difficult situations - joking about the veil, and takes joy in moments that less oppressed people [we] might take for granted - flowers falling from her grandmother's bra.
Sentiment seems to sustain her mother and grandmother as well. Her mother joins in demonstrations against the veil because she remembers the freedoms she has lost to the new regime. Her grandmother continues to wear her pearls - alluding to the wealth of a bygone era - throughout the upheaval.
I think that even Marji's father realizes that life is not worth living without some sort of sentiment. And as much as he may yearn for a numbness which will allow him to endure the regime without pain, he knows that humanity is incomplete without sentiment.
It seems to me that Marji's father may have been referring to religious sentiment, in which case his words express an unrealized dream. For if politics and religious sentiment didn't share the same governmental cage, the country would be a different place - the Iran of his youth. A country so influenced by the tenets of religion confines everyone involved - whether or not they share these same ideas.
It seems impossible to completely separate or completely combine the two ideas. We can see from Satrapi's memoirs that a country which seeks to fill the same spot with politics and religion is capable of great evils and instability. Alternatively, the complete separation of religious sentiment and politics seems to threaten 1984-like conditions. Yet even in these conditions, it seems that the rhetoric of the politicians becomes a sort of religion. Humans need something into which they can feed their emotions.
Politics is designed to secure the rights of a citizen, allowing him to express himself and his emotions freely. In the perfect mixture of politics and sentiment, people can pursue their individual interests and rest assured their neighbor's actions do not harm their well-being. This mixture restricts everyone at some point or another but is well-balanced and maintains itself.
-- Please forgive me if this blog didn't flow very well. I should have thought it out before I began to type, but I didn't. As a result, I jumped back and forth as new thoughts sprung out of my mind. I'm sure it verges on nonsensical mumbo-jumbo at times. Sorry.
I don't think Marji believes that the two things are completely immiscible. To her, nostalgia and sentiment were her boat on the sea of politics. She makes light of difficult situations - joking about the veil, and takes joy in moments that less oppressed people [we] might take for granted - flowers falling from her grandmother's bra.
Sentiment seems to sustain her mother and grandmother as well. Her mother joins in demonstrations against the veil because she remembers the freedoms she has lost to the new regime. Her grandmother continues to wear her pearls - alluding to the wealth of a bygone era - throughout the upheaval.
I think that even Marji's father realizes that life is not worth living without some sort of sentiment. And as much as he may yearn for a numbness which will allow him to endure the regime without pain, he knows that humanity is incomplete without sentiment.
It seems to me that Marji's father may have been referring to religious sentiment, in which case his words express an unrealized dream. For if politics and religious sentiment didn't share the same governmental cage, the country would be a different place - the Iran of his youth. A country so influenced by the tenets of religion confines everyone involved - whether or not they share these same ideas.
It seems impossible to completely separate or completely combine the two ideas. We can see from Satrapi's memoirs that a country which seeks to fill the same spot with politics and religion is capable of great evils and instability. Alternatively, the complete separation of religious sentiment and politics seems to threaten 1984-like conditions. Yet even in these conditions, it seems that the rhetoric of the politicians becomes a sort of religion. Humans need something into which they can feed their emotions.
Politics is designed to secure the rights of a citizen, allowing him to express himself and his emotions freely. In the perfect mixture of politics and sentiment, people can pursue their individual interests and rest assured their neighbor's actions do not harm their well-being. This mixture restricts everyone at some point or another but is well-balanced and maintains itself.
-- Please forgive me if this blog didn't flow very well. I should have thought it out before I began to type, but I didn't. As a result, I jumped back and forth as new thoughts sprung out of my mind. I'm sure it verges on nonsensical mumbo-jumbo at times. Sorry.
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