Friday, May 17, 2013

What Lurks Within

Ahoy there mateys! It's been awhile since the Jar of Dirt set sail. I won't be analyzing literature today, but promoting it...

As of today, I am a published writer! A short story of mine, a novella, if you will, has been published to Amazon's Kindle store.

The title of my ghost story is What Lurks Within...


 

Sent with four other youths to a summer therapy retreat for troubled teens, Grace, a girl cursed with the ability to see and hear ghosts, finds herself at a secluded hotel. Upon her arrival, she finds that her time there will be far from the expected therapeutic experience. The doctor sent to help them is, from the very beginning, strangely cold, detached, and a mysterious stranger who doesn’t seem to belong – in more ways than one – disappears without a trace. But, from the moment Grace laid eyes upon the staring windows of the Ravenshill Hotel, she knew that something far, far worse lurked within its walls. Plagued by horrifying visions of death, Grace is forced to relive a gruesome spree of murders from the Ravenshill’s past. Used to being a forced witness to ghostly flashbacks of many a grizzly end, Grace initially attempts to writes off her unease. However, when the line between past and present begins to blur, when the Ravenshill’s haunted past begins to repeat itself, Grace stumbles upon a truth far more terrible than any she could have ever imagined. Will Grace discover what really lurks within the maddened walls of the Ravenshill, or will the revelation prove to be more than she can bear?
...
 
I would appreciate it beyond words if any of you out there who read this blog would read my story. I would also be incredibly grateful if you would spread the word and tell any other readers you know to search the Kindle store for What Lurks Within by Courtney Dekanich!
 
Thank you all! Until our next voyage...

Wednesday, April 3, 2013

Not All Buried Treasure Be Silver And Gold...


Ahoy again!

Are ye ready to set sail once again on the Jar of Dirt? Well, let’s weigh anchor and begin our voyage! Tonight, we set sail for the Emerald Isle to unearth a long buried treasure. Be wary, maties, for we are about to venture into the dark and the weird, and not all treasure is silver and gold.

This time, our adventure will be a journey into one of the poems of Seamus Heaney, “Strange Fruit.”


Strange Fruit

Here is the girl's head like an exhumed gourd.
Oval-faced, prune-skinned, prune-stones for teeth.
They unswaddled the wet fern of her hair
And made an exhibition of its coil,
Let the air at her leathery beauty.
Pash of tallow, perishable treasure:
Her broken nose is dark as a turf clod,
Her eyeholes blank as pools in the old workings.
Diodorus Siculus confessed
His gradual ease among the likes of this:
Murdered, forgotten, nameless, terrible
Beheaded girl, outstaring axe
And beatification, outstaring
What had begun to feel like reverence.

...

This poem is, quite simply, the tale of the discovery of a bog-mummy.

Throughout the poem, Heaney uses imagery and metaphor to show that a discovery which may sound rather gruesome is actually far less terrible than it may seem.

Heaney equates the features of the bog-mummy to elements of the natural world. He refers to her head as an “exhumed gourd,” her teeth “prune-stones,” her hair a “wet fern,” and nose a “dark turf clod.” This use of metaphoric imagery attempts to take the visual of an age old murder victim buried for years in a bog, buried long enough to become a leathered corpse, and make it seem as though it is just another part of nature. By taking all of the scarred and withered features of the body and equating them to ordinary elements of nature which really prompt no response of disgust, Heaney makes the discovery seem as though it is simply an ordinary part of the natural world. He makes it seems as though it is not something which should cause fear or revulsion, but something that deserved to be treated with something like “reverence.” This idea is reinforced by the way in which Heaney refers to the mummy’s looks as “leathery beauty,” stating plainly that the “strange fruit” of the bog is beautiful in its own way, a “perishable treasure” pulled from the preserving ground.

So, what is the lesson to be learned from this poem, what message is being sent?

Beauty can be found in even the most unexpected places, no matter how foul they may at first appear.


Well, it would seem that we have once again returned to port after braving the high seas. I hope that you have enjoyed our voyage, me hearties!

Until next time!

Wednesday, March 27, 2013

A Voyage to England


Ahoy there!

It’s time for another voyage upon the Jar of Dirt! Are ye ready to set sail? This time, instead of braving seas of time and waves of the ink of the printed page, we will set sail on a sea of film. Yes, that’s right, film. When we signed the articles binding us to our World Literature crew, my fellow crewmates and I were charged with the duty of finding and watching a foreign film. So, what movie will dictate the path of our voyage? It’s a British film, a tale of murder and aristocracy starring Michael Gambon, Maggie Smith, Emily Watson, Ryan Philippe, Helen Mirren, and Clive Owen. A tale titled – quite simply – Gosford Park.

Warning, contains spoilers!
Set in the early 1930s, Gosford Park begins with a number of British aristocrats and their servants gathering at Gosford Park, the country estate of Sir William McCordle and his family. Over the course of the first hour of the movie, a plethora of characters are introduced. There is Lady Trentham, a gossip with an allowance from Sir William, and her new maid, Mary. There is Ivor Novello, an actor and relative of the host, his friend, an American actor by the name of Morris Weissman, and Weissman’s valet, Henry Denton. There is the mysterious valet, Robert Parks, the strange daughter of Sir William and her cruel mother. There are countless characters introduced, all with something to hide, be it their history, their true identity, financial problems, a sordid affair – or several – or anything else that a person could possibly want to hide. Then there is the turning point. Sir William is found dead, seemingly stabbed to death, but, in reality, poisoned the stabbing post mortem. As the investigation into his death moves forward, hidden agendas are uncovered. Some of the guests at Gosford Park were seeking money from Sir William, others employment, and one was undercover in order to research a role for a film. Then there was Robert Parks. The illegitimate child of Sir William, born thirty-two years prior to the events of the film and left by his father at an orphanage, Robert planned his way to Gosford Park to kill the man who had abandoned him. However, he failed to realize that Sir William was already dead by the time he plunged the knife through his heart. He had already been poisoned by one of his maids, Jane. Why did she do it? Robert was her son; she realized it the moment he arrived and knew what he planned to do. By killing Sir William before Robert had the chance to, she ensured that her son would keep his life.

So, what does this have to do with World Literature?

Well, the movie provides insight into the workings of a British aristocratic household in the mid-20th century. The type of social hierarchy portrayed in the film is one not which has never had a true match in American culture. Servants formally addressed each other by the last names of their aristocratic employers. They drove, cooked, and cleaned for their employers; they even helped them dress. A common theme throughout this movie is the idea of the aristocrats looking down on the very people they rely heavily on. Early in the film, Sir William’s daughter is having a private conversation with a fellow aristocrat who is attempting to blackmail here when one of the servants walks in. When she worries about her associate overhearing, he simply says, “it’s nobody.” This idea is shown throughout the film in various ways, including the many dalliances Sir William had with his factory workers and maids, abandoning the children resultant of these “indiscretions” even though they were his own, viewing them as second class, not following through on his promises to find a good family to adopt them.

The most prominent example of this theme is found at the end of the film when the police Inspector arrives to investigate Sir William’s death and one of the head servants inquires as to whether or not all of the servants will have to wait around to be questioned. The Inspector simply says, “I’m not interested in the servants, only people with a real connection to the man.” Little does he know that the very people he has just dubbed as second class are the ones with the real connections to Sir William. His fellow aristocrats only wanted money from him. Even his wife didn’t care about him; she and her sister had cut cards to decide which of them he would marry. He did, however, have affairs with at least three of the maids employed at his house (two of those affairs resulting in children), and an illegitimate child seeking vengeance for the life Sir William had robbed him of.

While Gosford Park is a highly enjoyable film, it also sends across a very clear message; do not judge a person by their social status, and do not underestimate someone simply because they have little. Those who are ignored often see the most, hide the most, and are often capable of far more than others believe.
Well, me hearties, that brings yet another journey to a close. If you are a fan of British dramas, whodunit murder mysteries, or Clive Owen, I recommend setting sail for Gosford Park as soon as possible.

Until next time!

Tuesday, March 19, 2013

Habemus Papam!


Ahoy there, mateys!

It’s been too long since we last set sail together aboard the Jar of Dirt!

Our last journey took us through the pages of Charles Dickens’ A Tale of Two Cities, and this is where it shall take us once again. However, instead of taking us on a journey through time, as well, it will be our vessel as we navigate events of the present.


As you probably know, last Wednesday, March 13, 2013, became a significant date in history as cries of “Habemus Papam” rang out on the streets of Rome, white smoke rising from the chimney set atop the Sistine Chapel where Cardinals from around the world had gathered to elect the next Pope. It was the moment which Catholics around the world – myself included – had been waiting anxiously for since the Conclave began. It was the moment we had been waiting for since Pope Benedict XVI officially retired.

It was approximately 1:16 pm (central time) when I first heard the news that a new Pope had been chosen. I was in my Catholic Theological Foundations class when one of my classmates casually announced, “we have a Pope.” My professor, a Franciscan Sister, kept teaching at first, thinking that he was kidding. When she realized that he wasn’t, she pulled his laptop away to see the live feed of white smoke playing out on his screen and promptly declared that class was going to be moved to out student lounge where we could await the announcement of the Pope’s name in front of the television.

Now, what does this have to do with A Tale of Two Cities?

Well, throughout the book, there is a recurring theme of hope and the resurrection of hope thought to be lost. This is shown when Dr. Manette is “recalled to life” after his long imprisonment, his release the resurrection and fulfillment of hopes of freedom. It is again shown when Sydney Carton saves Charles Darnay, resurrecting hope for the survival of Darnay and his family. Even as he walks towards the guillotine, Sydney has a vision of hope in which he sees generations into the future of those he is dying to save, a vision of life.

When his name was finally announced, when Pope Francis was revealed to us for the first time, Catholics around the world felt a surge of hope for the future. When Pope Benedict XVI retired, there was a sort of unease; the seat of St. Peter was, for a brief time, empty, sending out a wave of uncertainty. While hope never really died, the announcement of a new Pope dispelled the unease and once again cast a light of hope upon the future. Now that we’ve had the chance to see Pope Francis at work, to hear his ideas, I personally believe that this hope is well placed. He has shown great humility, and – following in the footsteps of St. Francis of Assisi – has said that, by caring for our fellow man, we can “open up a horizon of hope.”


Well, another voyage has come to its end. I hope you found that we navigated these waters with ease and look forward to our next adventure aboard the Jar of Dirt!

Until next time!

Tuesday, February 26, 2013

The History O' Revolution Be Penned In Dead Man's Blood

Ahoy!

Are ye ready for another voyage on The Jar of Dirt? I warn ye, this time we'll be braving not only the seven seas, but the seas of time! The winds, if you should so choose to set sail with me today, will take us back through eras of revolution.

Why this sudden journey through time?

Well, Charles Dickens is the compass pointing us on our merry way, and if Dickens is the compass, then A Tale of Two Cities is the map.

While these are the tools which will guide us back through time, they are not the port from which we set sail. The starting point of our journey is in a time much closer to our own.

In 2011, a revolution began in Libya. The people of the country fought to overthrow the oppressive government which they had been forced to live under.

A war was fought. The people rose up. The government fell.

But, what was the cost?

While false reports were released stating that the death toll had reached as high as 50,000, the actual count is - as of last month - an estimated 4,700 dead and 2,100 missing rebel supporters. 6,800 dead, maybe more, maybe less, and that's just from on the side of the revolutionaries. While 6,800 is far less than 50,000, is it any less terrible? Can the loss of life really be considered any less terrible simply because the number of those lost is lower than expected? Is it a cost that people should be so willing and eager to pay?

This where Dickens points us through A Tale of Two Cities.

He leads us back through the centuries to the era of the French Revolution. As he begins the novel, "It was the best of times, it was the worst of times." While people in other places in the world prospered at the closing of the eighteenth century, the people of France suffered. The common people had nothing while the rich had everything. There was no middle ground; what little there had been was lost somewhere as the people choked down their last scraps of spoiled food. The people were poor, cold, and hungry.

At some point, the poverty became something deeper than just a lack of money, the illness that came with the cold spawned a fever that could not be broken, and the hunger grew until it left nothing inside of the people of France but a ravenous void that could not be filled.

This is the image of desperation which Dickens weaves.

The image of revolution he creates is far, far worse.

According to Dickens, revolution began with vengeance. The people began to believe the unfillable void could be filled, filled with the blood of those who they blamed for their suffering.

According to Dickens, the French Revolution was an unspeakable horror. It was a bloodbath in which the blood of the innocent ran just as freely as the blood of the guilty. It was a nightmare in which the guillotine took the place of God in the minds and hearts of many.

But, what does this mean in the context of today? What is it that Dickens was trying to make us see?

Revolution comes at a cost. If there is a long standing system in place, a system which as many will fight to the death to protect as to destroy, the price to be payed will be in the form of life to be taken. I'm not saying that this is the case for every revolution; I do believe that it is possible for people to see change through without violence. However, as history has frequently shown, people often act without cosidering the price at which change comes.

While I cannot rightly judge the French Revolution nor the Libyan Revolution as I have not directly experienced either, I do believe that the question which Dickens poses throughout his novel is worth asking in both cases.

Was it worth the cost?

...

Well, me hearties, I do believe that our journey through time has come to an end.

Until next time...


(Numbers from Libyan Revolution are taken from: http://www.guardian.co.uk/world/2013/jan/08/libyan-revolution-casualties-lower-expected-government )

Monday, February 18, 2013

What Be the Meaning O' These Colors?

Ahoy!

Welcome me hearties, aboard the Jar of Dirt for yet another journey on the high seas of world literature! It's time to weigh anchor for it seems we have found the tradewinds of Helen Oyeyemi's The Icarus Girl!

While this route can lead to many places, I've got one particular port in mind.

So...

What be the meaning o' these colors?

That is to say, what does the title mean?

The Icarus Girl...

Well, to really answer that question, we need to go back far beyond the Golden Age of Piracy.

Icarus is a figure from Greek mythology.
He was the son Daedalus, the Athenian craftsman hired by King Minos of Crete. Daedalus' job was to build the Labyrinth to house the Minotaur. When Daedalus helped King Minos' daughter aid Theseus in defeating the Minotaur, the King imprisoned the craftsman and his son, Icarus. In order to escape, Daedalus fashioned wings from wax and feathers. When giving Icarus his pair of wings, Daedalus imparted a single warning; do not fly to close to the sun. Caught up in the freedom of flight, Icarus neglected to heed his fathers words. The sun melted the wax of his wings, and Icarus plummeted to his death.

Now, what on earth does this story have to do with the tale of a young girl who meets an evil twin spirit?

Well...

In The Icarus Girl, we are introduced to Jessamy, a girl of mixed English and Yoruba heritage who is having trouble finding her place in the world, and TillyTilly, a twin spirit.

After reading The Icarus Girl, I have come to the conclusion that TillyTilly is the Icarus Girl referred to in the novel's title.

I began to suspect this as, throughout the novel, TillyTilly repeatedly asks Jess questions like, "Oi, d'you still want to be able to do the things I can?" She goes so far as to reassure Jess that it will be "only for a little, little while," and that it wouldn't hurt at all. TillyTilly goes on to explain that switching means that "you'll be me for a little bit...and I'm going to be you."

When the girls finally do "switch," several things are revealed.

One; TillyTilly's existence is not what one would call pleasant. Jess experiences what it is like to be a spirit like TillyTilly, discovering that the world has seemingly become to vast and open while simultaneously being far too cramped and cluttered. Jess also discovers the fact that TillyTilly (when not occupying Jess' body) is invisible to the world; when out of her body, Jess cannot be seen or heard by her mother or her father.

Two; TillyTilly is wiling to do whatever it takes to be alive. As revealed through Jess' out of body experience, TillyTilly is pure spirit, unable to be seen or heard. In order to escape the prison of her existence, she is willing to lie to the one person who could see her. She told Jess that their "switch" would only be temporary and that it wouldn't hurt. Jess finds out immediately that TillyTilly lied, the "switch" causing her excruciating pain. Eventually - after Jess' mother locks "Tilly-who-was-Jess" in the basement, TillyTilly finally "switches" back.

Later in the novel, when TillyTilly once again takes Jess' body - this time with no intention of ever "switching" back - Jess is trapped in "the bush," a sort of spiritual wasteland, a "wilderness of the mind," which is TillyTilly's home. This is the place that TillyTilly wanted to escape from, her true prison. It is only when Jess' body is injured in a car accident that TillyTilly's power over Jess is weakened enough for Jess to reclaim her own body.

So...

How does all of this make TillyTilly the Icarus Girl?

Well...

Like Icarus, TillyTilly is a prisoner. As Icarus was imprisoned because of the actions of his father, TillyTilly became a prisoner of the "wilderness of the mind" simply because she was a twin and she died. She craves freedom and wants nothing more than to escape her prison, her confinement. While Icarus simply had the means of reaching his freedom handed to him, TillyTilly had to struggle to escape, reaching the point where she would lie and trick her way into a body, forever pushing out its rightful inhabitant simply so she could have a chance at living.

Also like Icarus, TillyTilly does manage to escape. While Daedalus gave his son wings of wax and feather, TillyTilly reaches freedom through Jess. She uses Jess' body as a means of escaping from her prison, thus making Jess - in a way - TillyTilly's wings.

And finally, just like Icarus, TillyTilly falls. In both stories, a simple form of freedom was not enough; in both stories, greed for something greater, for something more led to a terrible downfall. While Icarus flew too close to the sun, his wings melting, TillyTilly stayed in Jess' body for too long. Her lust for life, for control, led her to steal Jess' body for too long, remaining inside when Jess' body is caught in a devastating car crash. As Jess' body was injured, weakened, so was TillyTilly's power. This lead to Jess once again fighting TillyTilly for her own body, a fight which eventualy ended in the apparent destruction of TillyTilly.

...

Well, it would appear that we have reached the end of yet another voyage! I hope that you found it to your liking, that the seas weren't too stormy, and (most of all) that a case o' scurvy hasn't set in!

So, until next time...

Fairwinds to you all!

Saturday, February 9, 2013

The Maiden Voyage of the Jar of Dirt


Ahoy there my fellow buccaneers!
I know it’s been a while, but here it is – my first official blog entry!
After much debate as to which navigational course I should take first, I set sail in the direction of close reading on Anna Akhmatova’s poem “Lot’s Wife.”
Before I get to the close reading, here is the poem itself;

And the just man trailed God's shining agent,

over a black mountain, in his giant track,

while a restless voice kept harrying his woman:

"It's not too late, you can still look back

 

at the red towers of your native Sodom,

the square where once you sang, the spinning-shed,

at the empty windows set in the tall house

where sons and daughters blessed your marriage-bed."

 

A single glance: a sudden dart of pain

stitching her eyes before she made a sound . . .

Her body flaked into transparent salt,

and her swift legs rooted to the ground.

 

Who will grieve for this woman? Does she not seem

too insignificant for our concern?

Yet in my heart I never will deny her,

who suffered death because she chose to turn.

 
Now, on to the close reading.

“Lot’s Wife” is an allusion to the biblical story of Sodom and Gomorrah. The allusion specifically revolves around the wife of King Lot, a woman mentioned only once in the Bible.

So, what deeper meaning was Akhmatova trying to convey through her extension of the story of a woman mentioned in only one line of the Bible? Well…

Through her use of allusion, Akhmatova conveys a sense – on both a personal and widespread level – of what things were like in her country in her lifetime, an era of oppression in which the past was something people were ordered to forget.

Now, before I proceed, a brief but crucial piece of background information; Akhmatova lived in early 20th century Russia. It was a time of political unrest and tension. It was the era in which the Bolsheviks took power in Russia, beginning a reign of terror in which the Russian government oppressed its people, controlling nearly every aspect of their lives, dictating what they could and could not say or do.

So, how does this apply to “Lot’s Wife?”

Well, this context provides a revealing perspective from which this poem can be examined.

The line “It’s not too late, you can still look back,” is a reference to a desire to turn to the past. In the era of the Bolsheviks in Russia, the fact that people lost so many of the freedoms that they had had in the past would have made the idea of looking back at the past an attractive one. As Akhmatova goes on to describe the things at which Lot’s wife is looking back at – the square in which she sang, her spinning shed, the home in which she raised her family – this idea of nostalgic reflection is further strengthened. All of the things which, according to Akhmatova, Lot’s wife is tempted to turn back to look at are things which could hold fond memories. Use of the word “blessed” specifically indicates the good she finds in her past even as she flees her home in a whirl of darkness and chaos. In the time of the Bolsheviks, when life as the people of Russia knew it was turned upside-down, sending them into a period of danger and fear, to look back at the good found in the past would have made sense as the oppression of their lives held little good or hope for a brighter future.

Akhmatova goes on to describe the death of Lot’s wife, detailing the way in which a single glance backward led to “a sudden dart of pain stitching her eyes before she made a sound.” In the context of Akhmatova’s era, this fits with the way in which those who took over Russia tried to silence any dissenters before they had a chance to really speak out.

The line “her swift legs rooted to the ground,” is a more personal reference to Akhmatova’s own life. After the execution of her first ex-husband, Akhmatova’s career essentially nearly came to a total halt. Though they were divorced, Akhmatova was still considered to be an associate of her ex-husband, therefore causing her to be blacklisted by publishers as many of them were controlled by the same government which had ordered his execution.

The final lines of the poem refer to Lot’s wife as a woman “who suffered death because she chose to turn.” According to the poem, Lot’s wife – though her only intention was to look back at the good – was punished for turning back. In early 20th century Russia, to look back at the past, to long for or to strive for a return to the past, was met with similar punishment. If the Russian people were looking to the past, it therefore meant that they did not support the new leaders, the new system, thus making them opposition – a threat that must be eliminated. Many were killed simply because they did not embrace their new way of life. They were killed because they decided to turn to look back at what they’d had before.

“Lot’s Wife” is a poem which deals with actions and consequences, with crime and punishment. While it is based on a biblical allusion, it is Akhmatova’s extensive elaboration which conveys her meaning.


Well, it seems that we have officially navigated through close reading number one!

I welcome any and all feedback (I promise, if you disagree with me, you won’t have to walk the plank!)

And it would seem that it is once again time to weigh anchor and set sail!

Until next time!

Sunday, January 27, 2013

Ahoy There...

Ahoy there.

I'm Courtney, first time blogger, long time reader, and lifelong pirate enthusiast - feel free to call me Captain (just kidding, don't call me Captain; that would be kind of strange). While I do have an obsession with pirates, my life does not revolve around them (entirely), and will not be the central focus of this blog. Not now, at least. This blog is mainly for my other obsession listed above.

When I say that I'm a long time reader, I mean it - I literally cannot remember a time when I haven't been reading something. The majority of my spare time has been spent reading. When I'm not doing this, I'm typically watching and obsessing over a vast variety of movies and television shows, many of which I can quote far too well (so be warned - it's more than likely that, at some point, I'll start quoting Star Wars or Pirates of the Caribbean...you didn't see that last one coming, did you?)

Anyway, back to reading.

While I've read the big series of my generation - you know, Harry Potter, Twilight - I'm a huge horror nerd. I'm particularly enthusiastic when it comes to Stephen King. 'Salem's Lot, IT, Bag of Bones, and - of course - The Stand, just to name a few King novels I'm particularly in love with. However, while I can't get enough of my horror fiction (or mysteries - big Agatha Christie fan here), I'm also a fan of a great deal of other types of literature. I've read and fallen in love with The Things They Carried, A Tale of Two Cities (makes me cry every time I get to the end), and The Great Gatsby - I think it should probably go without saying, but a huge horror nerd is bound to love Frankenstein, The Picture of Dorian Gray, The Strange Tale of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, and (especially) Dracula above all others. I have yet to get to Treasure Island, but my obsession with pirates will only let me go without it for so long.

And this, ladies and gentlemen, brings me to the question you're all probably asking yourselves (well, maybe you are; I'm not a mind reader).

What is The Jar of Dirt?

The answer to that question is quite simple - homework.

This English major has to write this blog for class - for World Literature, to be exact. Instead of writing a paper on every book we read, we get to do blog entries. I find this pretty cool, and not just because it means not having to write five lengthy essays. It's something new, something I've never done before. As I read, with the rest of my class, over the next few months, I will be posting a variety of blog entries. There'll be a close reading analysis (or three), a couple of entries making connections between the themes we discover in class and things going on out there in the world today, and even an entry revolving around a foreign film I'll have to watch (I don't know much about that last one yet - stay tuned for more details).

So far, my class has made it through the novel Icarus Girl and a variety of poems by Anna Akhmatova. The latter has served to fuel divisions which began to form on the very first day when we read Naomi Shihab Nye's "The Traveling Onion." Mutiny may very well be on the horizon (forgive me, I had to make at least one piratey comment).

Well, I do believe that's all for now...

More coming soon!