Love is like a Paperclip.

The first thing that people seem to ask me, when I tell them I’m reading Pride and Prejudice, is what it is about. The majority of them recognize the name, but know of it only for being a romance novel. I disagree. I don’t view Jane Austen’s novel to be the modern day’s romance novel. In the recent “romance novels” that I have read, the plotline revolves purely around those in the relationship, and the troubles relating to it. Pride and Prejudice does not follow these restrictions in the slightest. The relationship between Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy is the cause of many realizations to come, but the novel continues to explore these realizations past the points that directly relate to their romance. It’s almost insulting to call this novel a romance novel, because it’s so much more than that. It’s about the issues of social rank, of women needing to marry to have a place in society. It’s about ridiculous people, about personalities that simply cannot change, and some that can. It’s about being wrong: and being sensible enough to admit it. It’s about realizing that people aren’t perfect. It’s about incompatibility: the struggles that couples cause and face when their marriage is hasty and ill-thought out. It’s about misunderstandings and they hurt they cause. And most of all, it’s a story about pride and prejudice. It’s a story that happens to tie together its loose ends through marriage, and so, has been misnamed as a romance novel. But Microsoft word is not a paper clip that states the obvious. It simply happens to involve one; an aspect that may or may not be helpful at the time. I equate this concept with the relationship that is formed between Lizzy and Darcy. It is there, it often causes problems, but it also has the piece of useful information that just may be the realization you need to find your happiness: or finish a project.

Elizabeth Austen

The more I read the book, the more I felt that Jane Austen was expressing herself through Elizabeth. It isn’t the small details, like both being mostly taught at home, both constantly going on long walks, both having their closest friend be their sister, both living under the threat of losing their home when their father dies—those are just the comparisons between them. But Elizabeth often expresses her opinion in such an honest and clear way, that I can’t help but think this might be the opinion of the author herself. For example, in chapter 24, page 133, Elizabeth says “There are few people whom I really love, and still fewer of whom I think well. The more I see of the world, the more am I dissatisfied with it; and every day confirms my belief of the inconsistency of all human characters, and of the little dependence that can be placed on the appearance of either merit or sense.” And in chapter 29, on page 163, Elizabeth contradicts Lady Catherine with “I think it would be very hard upon younger sisters, that they should not have their share of society and amusement because the elder may not have the means or inclination to marry early.—The last born has as good a right to the pleasures of youth, as the first. And to be kept back on such a motive!—I think it would not be very likely to promote sisterly affection or delicacy of mind.” Elizabeth’s opinion on things is a remarkably sensible one, and much of her language reminds me of Jane Austen’s own language, in the letters she wrote to her sister, Cassandra. It’s interesting that Elizabeth’s sister, Jane, happens to share the name of the author. Perhaps that was Austen’s way of getting her signature into the book, as it was first sold anonymously: being written “by a lady”. I believe Jane Austen uses the character of Elizabeth and the lessons she learns to portray her own opinion about society, and about life.

Sarcasm: A Coping Mechanism

One of my favourite characters in Pride and Prejudice is Elizabeth’s father, Mr. Bennet. The sarcastic comments and witty responses that he speaks are ones that I find really amusing. As I was reading the book, some of his comments even made me laugh out loud. In Chapter 2, for example, on page 8, Mrs. Bennet is complaining (I find her rather hilarious as well) about her daughter, Kitty. Kitty happened to cough. Mrs. Bennet says: “Don’t keep coughing so, Kitty, for heaven’s sake! Have a little compassion on my nerves. You tear them to pieces.” Mr. Bennet responds to her comment, almost making fun of his wife, “Kitty has no discretion in her coughs,” said her father; “she times them ill.” The ridiculousness of the situation is a concept that is repeated many times in the novel. When Jane needs the carriage to ride to Netherfield, for example, and Mrs. Bennet forces her to go on horseback and she gets sick, Mr. Bennet says to his wife: “Well, my dear,” said Mr. Bennet, when Elizabeth had read the note aloud, “if your daughter should have a dangerous fit of illness, if she should die, it would be a comfort to know that it was all in pursuit of Mr. Bingley, and under your orders.” (Chapter 7, p. 32). As many character flaws as Mr. Bingley has, he is also sensible enough to realize them, in the end. He does his best to fix the failings, that he has previously let slide, in Kitty. His sarcasm and wittiness are his way to deal with the silliness of his wife and youngest daughters, and although they might not be the best way to correct behaviour, they make for a very entertaining read!

Background Check

Zeffirelli’s adaptation of Hamlet seems to be much darker, visually, than Branagh’s adaptation. This may have to do with the setting of the films, as one is based in the medieval period, while the other is in the Elizabethan period. In Branagh’s film, everything is more elegant. Not only is this portrayed through the setting and the imagery, but through the actors as well. Hamlet is always somewhat poised, even when he loses control. However, in Zeffirelli’s adaptation, the film is a lot grittier. The clothing is not elegant or elaborate; even the royalty doesn’t compare to that of Branagh’s time period. The buildings and furniture are also much dirtier; objects are made from stone when they would be made out of marble otherwise. The huge contrast of Hamlet’s black outfit against the white hall in Branagh’s scene is lost, as the scene in Zeffirelli’s film is much darker and the black blends in. The lighting really determines the mood well. Most of the scenes with lighter content take place outdoors, as the lighting is much brighter outside in this film.
An interesting perspective from Zeffirelli’s film is taken from looking at the clothing. Ophelia, for example, starts in a pure white gown that darkens as she loses her sanity. In Act Four, Scene 5, when Ophelia is singing while in the castle, I noticed that while she now has a dirty grey gown, Gertrude is wearing red and Claudius is wearing black. I believe Zeffirelli chose these colours on purpose as they certainly have significance when looking at each of the characters. Ophelia has been dirtied by those who used her, Gertrude has become impure and has betrayed her now-dead husband, and Claudius is the killer of his very own brother. By this point, all of this has become clear, and Zeffirelli chooses to emphasize this through the characters’ clothing. Even in Branagh’s film, Claudius wears black, Ophelia wear a tan straightjacket, and Gertrude wears a white blouse with a black skirt, indicating her taint. In both of the films, the directors use their setting to their advantage in order to subconsciously portray important points.

Why Do Planes Crash?

“Planes are safer when the least experienced pilot is flying, because it means the second pilot isn’t going to be afraid to speak up.” (Gladwell 197)

This quote is from the chapter “The Ethnic Theory of Plane Crashes”, which is very much self-explanatory. I found the theory very interesting, because it was something than I had never heard about. Gladwell talks about the reasons for plane crashes; how it was mainly a combination of things, but there was one main cause. And the main cause was the second pilot being unable to speak up to the first pilot; that is, not being able to speak upright and confront them if there is an issue. Gladwell speaks of the Power-Distance Index (PDI); which is basically a culture’s treatment of authority. With a very high PDI, the co-pilot will feel very inferior compared to the pilot. The result of this would be that the co-pilot will be unable to speak up if they see a problem, or if they do, they will have mitigated speech. Mitigated speech “refers to any attempt to downplay or sugarcoat the meaning of what is being said.” (Gladwell 194). People do this everyday. It’s shocking that such a common thing could have such a drastic effect: being the ultimate cause of a plane crash.

Apparently as soon as this was found out, experts were sent to airlines from countries with high PDI to fix the problem. David Greenberg was able to go to South Korea and reform the structure of airlines enough to make them much safer. Workers are not afraid to speak up and stand their ground, and the pilot is no longer being treated like royalty. Since the importance of PDI first came out, the aviation world underwent a huge change to shrink the authoritative distance between workers on an airline in order to make flights safer: and it worked. I, for one, am very happy that it did.

Working Hard?

“Hard work is a prison sentence only if it does not have meaning. Once it does, it becomes the kind of thing that makes you grab your wife around the waist and dance a jig.” (Gladwell 150)

I found this chapter of Outliers to be really interesting, and I have to say I really liked it. Gladwell talks about the relationship between success and hard work. ‘Hard work’ has come to have a bit of a negative undertone to it, I think, but I also think that undertone is wrong. Louis Borgenicht, a Jewish immigrant, was very poor. However, he was also very good at making clothes. And so he went wandering the streets, to find a garment that people wore, but no one sold. And what he found was a child, playing hopscotch: wearing an apron. “When Louis Borgenicht came home after first seeing that child’s apron, he danced a jig. He hadn’t sold anything yet. He was still penniless and desperate, and he knew that to make something of his idea was going to require years of backbreaking labour. But he was ecstatic, because the prospect of those endless years of hard labour did not seem like a burden to him.” (Gladwell 150). And that goes back to the first quote I posted about meaning. Hard work, that is creative, complex, and that has the relationship between effort and reward: that work is meaningful. People don’t mind doing it, in fact, they want to do it. Borgenicht was nothing short of ecstatic, “And the Beatles didn’t recoil in horror when they were told they had to play eight hours a day, seven days a week. They jumped at the chance.” (Gladwell 150).

The lesson that applies here, that Gladwell is talking about, is an inspiring one. And perhaps we’ve heard it many times before, but I think it’s worth repeating. The is lesson is “if you work hard enough and assert yourself, and use your mind and imagination, you can shape the world to your desires.” Considering we all have somewhere around a thousand things to do this week, I think this is very applicable!

The Trouble With Intelligence and Success

The book I chose to read for the independent novel study is Outliers, by Malcolm Gladwell. As I was reading it, one quote that stood out to me was in Chapter Three: “The Trouble With Geniuses, Part 1”. This section was about IQ; more specifically, how a high IQ translated into a real-life advantage. It seems, the higher the IQ was, the more successful the person would be, right?

“But there’s a catch. The relationship between success and IQ works only up to a point. Once someone had reached an IQ of somewhere around 120, having additional IQ points doesn’t seem to translate into any measurable real-world advantage.” (Gladwell 79)

Gladwell goes onto quote Liam Hudson, who says “[a] mature scientist with an adult IQ of 130 is as likely to win a Nobel Prize as is one whose IQ is 180.” (Gladwell 80). With this quote, he relates IQ to height in basketball; that the player just has to be tall enough for the team. This is just like IQ; the person just has to be above the threshold in order to be successful.

The concept of this was a new one to me; although it seems there’s a lot of evidence to back it up. It was just something I had never heard before, and, well, it’s fairly optimistic. By this logic, a person isn't born with only a certain amount of success that they can achieve in their life: it’s the actions that count, after all. Along with the surroundings, and a much more complex system that Gladwell explains throughout the book; basically, our life shapes us. It seems obvious. But then again, it kind of seems opposite of common logic. If IQ represents intelligence, and one person has a higher IQ than another, then they are said to be smarter than the other person, are they not? (Although, I think IQ has a more complex definition than simply ‘intelligence’). If they are said to be smarter, shouldn’t they be more successful?

It’s interesting to think, that in our society, it really isn’t the people with the highest IQ who reach the top. It’s a combination of drive, and pure luck. Luck, for example, as being born into a family that can afford lessons in a certain subject that cause a student to become an expert in the very thing. Occurances such as this seem to be more powerful than IQ.

However, there is still the threshold that must be reached, of 120 IQ points. IQ is still a very powerful measure of intelligence; it just isn’t the only effect on success.

I’ll leave with something that I and quite a few other people have been working on for quite sometime, and are still unsure about.

“The super IQ test was created by Ronald K. Hoeflin, who is himself someone with an unusually high IQ. Here’s a sample question, from the verbal analogies section. “Teeth is to Hen as Nest is to ?” If you want to know the answer, I’m afraid I have no idea.” (Gladwell 71)

If you can figure it out, with a logical answer, I will put on a hat for the sole purpose of tipping it to you.

The New, the Old, and the Original

There was a certain part of Chapter 2 that struck me, as it actually was along the lines of a thought that had bothered me for a couple of years now. On page 22, Frye is discussing literature and it's forms. Specifically, when Canada was still first starting out, there were many who believed Canada would produce so many new things, and that a new literature would be one of these. He then states, "But these new things provide only content; they don't provide new literary forms."

It is a fear that has crossed my mind before; that there is nothing new, nothing original left to create in literature, or any sort of art. Think of movies, books; how many of them have all been done before? However, Frye explained on the next page, "I'm not saying that there's nothing new in literature: I'm saying that everything is new, and yet recognizably the same kind of thing as the old," and with this, I realized that my conclusion of what he was saying on the previous page was incorrect. I think I was giving too much credit to things that are 'new'. A piece of work does not have to be completely new in order to be an original piece of work. It seems that all literature borrows from other pieces nowadays, and, according to Frye, that is perfectly fine. That may seem rather contradictory to it being called original, as the word itself implies something completely new, borrowing from nothing else. And perhaps it is, but also perhaps, Frye is not thinking of the word 'original' as the same way I am. It also must be taken into consideration that there is no new literary forms; but the content of literature is free to be played with and turned into something new.

I realize I'm sort of rambling, and that I haven't gotten to much of a conclusion, mainly because I don't really have one quite yet. These two pages just stuck in my mind: they gave me food for thought, at any rate. What do you guys think? Do you agree with Frye, in that every story or piece of literature can be connected to another one in the past? Or is there a specific instance that you can think of that proves him wrong? Comment! I want to know.

The World Man Constructs

“…Literature belongs to the world man constructs, not to the world he sees; to his home, not his environment.” (p.12)

In this statement, Frye talks of two separate worlds. One is referred to as the environment: this is the world we see around us, and the one that Frye believes pertains the most to science. The other is our "home", which we have constructed. Our home is where literature belongs, and each person's home is different, because the home is imagination. It is within the mind, but it is not constrained by the limits of the outward environment. Our imagination is our home, because it houses everything that is truly a part of us; everything within us. You can probably tell that I agree with this statement, because literature is first born in our mind. It is created with imagination, and it grows. Perhaps it may eventually take an outward form, such as a novel or script. In relation to McCullough's speech, the facts gained and learnt can be applied into the imagination to assist with the creation of literature. McCullough states, "Cervantes is a part of us, whether we know it or not." This is because certain quotes by Cervantes have stuck inside the reader's mind: they have begun to live in the reader's home. Imagination, the mind, is where it all begins, and where everyone can go back to. It a person's individual, portable home, with a roommate called literature.