Here I am again blogging for what I think is the second time within 12 hours, so I’m pretty impressed with myself. This time talking about Ten Indians, which strangely impacted me just like Cross-Country Snow did; the story did seem rather pointless, but nonetheless I connected with it.
The father-son relationship seems to be one of the most studied, talked about, and written about in history. Tales of men going out with their fathers on their first hunt, the fathers telling stories to the boy about hunters’ past and teaching him the lay of the land. The boy watches his father in admiration, wishing only to be like him one day. Other stories show a not-so-good influence of a father for his sone; the proverbial drunk man who wastes all his families money at the bar, comes home and beats the wife and kids, and does the same thing every day. The boy learns what not to be here, hopefully, but Hemingway seems to cover neither of these father-son relationships in Ten Indians.
In this short story, a more affectionate side of the relationship is shown, in one way or another. Nick’s love interest, Prudence (ironically named), is caught with another man by Nick’s father, who must break the news to him. The funny part about this is that his reaction is so typical of any confused dad who is trying to comfort his son emotionally for maybe the first time, he just has no idea how to. So, he gives him food. He breaks the news to heartbroken Nick, and then offers him lots and lots of pie. I love my dad, but I can just see him doing this himself, and it make me kind of sad but more just giddy at the same time. Mothers have traditionally satisfied the emotional need of children, but when Hemingway puts it the opposite it points out an odd and comical truth: Dads just aren’t the best people to talk about girls with.
In no way am I saying I or anybody shouldn’t go to their dad for advice, I do all the time. The truth that Hemingway brings out here is just so real, and I can’t seem to get over it. “Oh I’m sorry I caught your girlfriend cheating on you, how about some pie?” Then again if Nick was a girl, maybe the pie would’ve helped...
Tuesday, March 22, 2011
Monday, March 21, 2011
Cross-Country Snow
So when I first told a fellow classmate today that I was finally going to blog, she told me it was the most boring story ever; it was just a plotless story about guys going skiing. This encouraged me to blog even more, so here I am. The reason behind this is that I just went skiing four days ago with a few guys, so I am now totally inspired to write about what I just read.
The first thing I love about Hemingway is his appreciation for the outdoors. The opening page of the story is all about the mountain, how serene it is up there in the snow and whooshes of the skis through the fresh powder. I've always been a lover of the outdoors myself, and am never more relaxed in any other place. Obviously here in Texas it isn't the snow that I'm around all the time, but the fresh smell of cedars and the sound of the soft river in the fall cannot make me a happier man.
Like I said earlier, the placement of this story in our reading schedule is perfect. Hemingway seems often to write of gender behavior. Male mostly, but female too. In this story, he hits it right on the head. Guys going out and doing something that can easily be competitive, making fun of each other for falling, and going out for drinks afterwards; this seems so alike to what men do for fun today. Honestly, this is exactly what my chums and I did on our ski trip, except sub the drinks for pizza and a trip to the Hot Springs. And it was great, really great. Even though he wrote these so much earlier in the century, it's strange to see how similar it is to a man's life today. Oh, and the "bro talk," as we call it, or talking about women in any way, shape or form; after a hard day's fun, it's essential to any gathering of good guy friends.
I also noticed Hemingway's connections to himself in the story. These could very well be wrong, but it just seemed too obvious. The men talk of how the American mountains just aren't anything as great as those in Europe, those of which I have to believe to be the Alps. This has got to have some connection to Hemingway being an expatriate and going abroad to Europe to write. Lastly are the women (it always seems to be like this with his writing...); there seems to be some sort of conflict between Nick and a pregnant lover of his named Helen. This instantly brought me back to the trouble Hemingway seemed to have with women throughout his lifetime.
Whatever this story is meant to mean or whatever connections we are supposed to establish, I just love it for how true it rings to the masculine lifestyle and how well Hemingway portrayed it even years and years ago.
The first thing I love about Hemingway is his appreciation for the outdoors. The opening page of the story is all about the mountain, how serene it is up there in the snow and whooshes of the skis through the fresh powder. I've always been a lover of the outdoors myself, and am never more relaxed in any other place. Obviously here in Texas it isn't the snow that I'm around all the time, but the fresh smell of cedars and the sound of the soft river in the fall cannot make me a happier man.
Like I said earlier, the placement of this story in our reading schedule is perfect. Hemingway seems often to write of gender behavior. Male mostly, but female too. In this story, he hits it right on the head. Guys going out and doing something that can easily be competitive, making fun of each other for falling, and going out for drinks afterwards; this seems so alike to what men do for fun today. Honestly, this is exactly what my chums and I did on our ski trip, except sub the drinks for pizza and a trip to the Hot Springs. And it was great, really great. Even though he wrote these so much earlier in the century, it's strange to see how similar it is to a man's life today. Oh, and the "bro talk," as we call it, or talking about women in any way, shape or form; after a hard day's fun, it's essential to any gathering of good guy friends.
I also noticed Hemingway's connections to himself in the story. These could very well be wrong, but it just seemed too obvious. The men talk of how the American mountains just aren't anything as great as those in Europe, those of which I have to believe to be the Alps. This has got to have some connection to Hemingway being an expatriate and going abroad to Europe to write. Lastly are the women (it always seems to be like this with his writing...); there seems to be some sort of conflict between Nick and a pregnant lover of his named Helen. This instantly brought me back to the trouble Hemingway seemed to have with women throughout his lifetime.
Whatever this story is meant to mean or whatever connections we are supposed to establish, I just love it for how true it rings to the masculine lifestyle and how well Hemingway portrayed it even years and years ago.
Sunday, March 6, 2011
Time Magazine, April 18, 1927
As I cracked open the Time Magazine collection, I could tell I was into something I had never been exposed to. That is, a magazine with hardly any pictures and articles covering things I had never even heard of. As I read deeper into it though, my interest began to spark; I was recognizing companies in the advertisements and even connecting some of the articles with information I have learned in history classes over the past eight or so years.
The first aspect of the magazine that caught my eye was the advertisements (I suppose they are still doing their job even nearly a century out of relevance). Let me also say I specifically picked an issue of Time before the Great Depression, simply because that wasn’t something I was exactly in the mood to cover the excitement I am experiencing with Spring Break looming five day away. However because of this, I noticed certain things about the advertisements: they nearly all seemed to be about luxuries. This century was always known as the “Roaring Twenties;” businesses succeeding, happy people, and the introduction of buying on credit gave the American people every reason to have fun with their lives. Ads for luxuries such as fine stationaries (funny to see that advertised since the written word has nearly been phased out by our culture) littered the pages. Also present were pages advertising video cameras, cabins in the beautiful woods of Tacoma, and cigarettes. But not just regular cigarettes, Murad brand, “for the man who feels entitled to life’s better things.” Even though our country recently went through an economic slump, we live in a culture where luxury seems to be very important to everyone, and due to this these advertising schemes don’t seem too different to the ones we seem today. Though it is funny to think about how much this magazine had changed in entirety just a mere two or three years later.
While on my literary scavenger hunt, came across two articles that I found very interesting, and it was funny how pertinent each might be to the college lifestyle: prohibition and pornography. Obviously I’m not saying our campus needs prohibition nor is a pornography collection a staple to every student, but alcohol and sexuality are definitely rampant over college campuses.
The prohibition article isn’t even anything special, but it just sparked my though about the uproar that would occur if TCU were to be made a dry campus. Obviously the article was written before the 21st Amendment was ratified in 1933 repealing it, which made me think more. Does it look bad when a college switches from a dry to wet campus. To be honest, I feel like it might, almost like the school is giving in, saying “well, if they’re gonna do it anyway, might as well let ‘em.”
Even more striking than this is the article about a B. MacFadden who was frowned upon by the public eye for his production of pornographic material, and by that I mean a skit involving women in “scanty costume” being measured “for hip, breast, ankle, [and] calf dimensions” in order to get a job as a stenographer. It’s funny to see how this was called blasphemous back then, and today could practically be in a PG rated movie. If this is pornography, then you could practically call any party that goes on around here a pornographic presentation. With these two things being presented to the public’s eye in 1927, it really is a sight to see how much of a spectrum we can create of it in comparison to the lives we are all living today.
The first aspect of the magazine that caught my eye was the advertisements (I suppose they are still doing their job even nearly a century out of relevance). Let me also say I specifically picked an issue of Time before the Great Depression, simply because that wasn’t something I was exactly in the mood to cover the excitement I am experiencing with Spring Break looming five day away. However because of this, I noticed certain things about the advertisements: they nearly all seemed to be about luxuries. This century was always known as the “Roaring Twenties;” businesses succeeding, happy people, and the introduction of buying on credit gave the American people every reason to have fun with their lives. Ads for luxuries such as fine stationaries (funny to see that advertised since the written word has nearly been phased out by our culture) littered the pages. Also present were pages advertising video cameras, cabins in the beautiful woods of Tacoma, and cigarettes. But not just regular cigarettes, Murad brand, “for the man who feels entitled to life’s better things.” Even though our country recently went through an economic slump, we live in a culture where luxury seems to be very important to everyone, and due to this these advertising schemes don’t seem too different to the ones we seem today. Though it is funny to think about how much this magazine had changed in entirety just a mere two or three years later.
While on my literary scavenger hunt, came across two articles that I found very interesting, and it was funny how pertinent each might be to the college lifestyle: prohibition and pornography. Obviously I’m not saying our campus needs prohibition nor is a pornography collection a staple to every student, but alcohol and sexuality are definitely rampant over college campuses.
The prohibition article isn’t even anything special, but it just sparked my though about the uproar that would occur if TCU were to be made a dry campus. Obviously the article was written before the 21st Amendment was ratified in 1933 repealing it, which made me think more. Does it look bad when a college switches from a dry to wet campus. To be honest, I feel like it might, almost like the school is giving in, saying “well, if they’re gonna do it anyway, might as well let ‘em.”
Even more striking than this is the article about a B. MacFadden who was frowned upon by the public eye for his production of pornographic material, and by that I mean a skit involving women in “scanty costume” being measured “for hip, breast, ankle, [and] calf dimensions” in order to get a job as a stenographer. It’s funny to see how this was called blasphemous back then, and today could practically be in a PG rated movie. If this is pornography, then you could practically call any party that goes on around here a pornographic presentation. With these two things being presented to the public’s eye in 1927, it really is a sight to see how much of a spectrum we can create of it in comparison to the lives we are all living today.
Wednesday, March 2, 2011
Gettin' Modern
So I’ve definitely never been anyone who’s huge into the art scene, but then again I’ve never had anything against it. I mean I’ll look at a piece of art for a minute or so and try to find out what it means but mostly just because its aesthetically pleasing, but just can’t stand and stare for an hour like some. I still enjoy art though, don’t get me wrong. I’m a huge doodler, so there’s something down in me that can show my interest in it. All this being said, my trip to the Modern was... interesting.
The first thing I noticed about the modern was the people there; they’re really weird, especially the children. For example, before we even entered the building, my friends and I were just chilling in the echo tower when a small, lanky child with curly hair, braces and glasses as think as soda cans popped out from behind the wall and screamed in attempt to scare us. We walked away quietly. Also, my friend claimed to have made awkward eye contact with a small child wearing a cowboy hat with regular clothes throughout the afternoon. Needless to say, I tried my best not to judge.
To the real point though, which was the art inside the museum on its walls, or in this case possibly on the floor, or suspended mid air. That was the first thing I had come to love at the Modern: it wasn’t normal. One very interesting piece was what appeared to be a sea foam green wave of cellophane along the ground in one room. Little did I know that at a closer look, they were all individually wrapped candies, and according to a friends knowledge, are meant to be taken. We took our candies, and I kept looking at the “art.” It confused me, but I liked it.
We proceeded on upstairs where I found my favorite piece, ones man’s depiction of Noah’s Ark. Not only were the animals beautiful (I’m a sucker for anything nature related, but when I looked past them, there was something incredibly intriguing about the background. You could see the ensuing dangers of the storm, and it struck a fear into my eyes I’m sure similar to Noah’s as he got on. Actually he was probably a lot more scared, seeing the he was actually there. But either way, I was dumbfounded by how the background of something could simply make me feel like that.
Lastly, a piece that had me thinking was the book with wing sculpture. Especially the way the museum presents it, it looks holy and divine floating there by itself. The first thing I though of was that it was trying to say something about reading. Maybe that reading gives you the wings you need to fly. The ironic thing is that it’s made of lead so it never could fly, what I thought could possibly represent our generations disrespect for the written word. Whatever it meant, that one really had my brain churning.
Among many other pieces at the Modern, I definitely walked out feeling I had not wasted my time. Talking and reading about modernism so much, it was good to put pictures with words. Enjoying the museum as much as I did, I felt an oncoming excitement to continually pursue modernism this semester.
The first thing I noticed about the modern was the people there; they’re really weird, especially the children. For example, before we even entered the building, my friends and I were just chilling in the echo tower when a small, lanky child with curly hair, braces and glasses as think as soda cans popped out from behind the wall and screamed in attempt to scare us. We walked away quietly. Also, my friend claimed to have made awkward eye contact with a small child wearing a cowboy hat with regular clothes throughout the afternoon. Needless to say, I tried my best not to judge.
To the real point though, which was the art inside the museum on its walls, or in this case possibly on the floor, or suspended mid air. That was the first thing I had come to love at the Modern: it wasn’t normal. One very interesting piece was what appeared to be a sea foam green wave of cellophane along the ground in one room. Little did I know that at a closer look, they were all individually wrapped candies, and according to a friends knowledge, are meant to be taken. We took our candies, and I kept looking at the “art.” It confused me, but I liked it.
We proceeded on upstairs where I found my favorite piece, ones man’s depiction of Noah’s Ark. Not only were the animals beautiful (I’m a sucker for anything nature related, but when I looked past them, there was something incredibly intriguing about the background. You could see the ensuing dangers of the storm, and it struck a fear into my eyes I’m sure similar to Noah’s as he got on. Actually he was probably a lot more scared, seeing the he was actually there. But either way, I was dumbfounded by how the background of something could simply make me feel like that.
Lastly, a piece that had me thinking was the book with wing sculpture. Especially the way the museum presents it, it looks holy and divine floating there by itself. The first thing I though of was that it was trying to say something about reading. Maybe that reading gives you the wings you need to fly. The ironic thing is that it’s made of lead so it never could fly, what I thought could possibly represent our generations disrespect for the written word. Whatever it meant, that one really had my brain churning.
Among many other pieces at the Modern, I definitely walked out feeling I had not wasted my time. Talking and reading about modernism so much, it was good to put pictures with words. Enjoying the museum as much as I did, I felt an oncoming excitement to continually pursue modernism this semester.
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