Modernism is a movement that distinctly bore out of the post-WWI young adults. It was a dramatic shift away from Romanticism and a significant step away from Realism. This movement in literature saw the idea of a “hero” corrupted and strangled. No longer could you read a novel and watch a strong willed man or woman overcome temptation and maintain a zealous moral code. Character development began to be the dominant role instead of fantastical plots. For example Ernest Hemingway’s debut novel, “The Sun Also Rises” contains no overly dramatic moments, but merely a wounded WWI vet lusting for a woman he can never have humbly and painfully. We see in this novel a narration that becomes unreliable at times, and long gaps of time spanning between paragraphs. The ideals and morals of America had changed entirely. The movement didn’t just affect literature but also art, fashion, personalities, and culture as a whole.
Post-modernism is a late 20th century movement that’s been identified as the “next step.” There is no single event that signals the oncoming of this shift, but more of a general changing of the guards as the capabilities of our race expand through technology and information sharing. Post-modernism retains “modernism” at its root because the movement didn’t change the game, as much as just the rules. Postmodernism “doesn't lament the idea of fragmentation, provisionality, or incoherence, but rather celebrates that. The world is meaningless? Let's not pretend that art can make meaning then, let's just play with nonsense.” (Klages) Modernism couldn’t stay the same because the way the world commerced was entirely different. American’s economy is in a stage of capitalism referred to as consumer capatalism that is “associated with nuclear and electronic technologies. (Klages)
Don Delillo’s “White Noise” is an explicit example of post-modernist literature. Delillo was born in 1936, between WWI and WWII, and grew up in a rapidly advancing culture technologically. “White Noise” clearly captures the coldness and distance that began to feature itself so prominently with the introduction of telelvision to the every-man’s house. The coldness doesn’t stop with just that as the idea of the family nucleus slowly begins to fade as the century drolls on. “White Noise” illustrates this perfectly with Jack and Babette’s patchwork family, each bringing children of their own to the family from previously crumbled marriages, try to decipher what is going on in the world around them. You see the family during their weekly Friday TV roundup captivated by the incessant disasters exploited on television. You can watch Jack trudge through life in an ever-alienating society in places like the local supermarket or the “College on the Hill.” You see Jack fasciniated by students flocking to his univeristy by the thousands unloading their countless personal belongings. Delillo doesn’t necessarily attack American society with the idea of excess, but rather asks us to merely observe and draw your own conclusions. The hum of “White Noise” doesn’t exclusively come from “things” that people buy, but also the way the market shifted to rely so heavily on the shoulder of advertising and brand marketing.
Post-modernism can be dark and ominous, but avoids creating fear. Rather we the audience must look what we’re presented with and decide what we are going to do with it. Whether it is medicine, technology, religious ideals, or moral beliefs the line between utilizing and dependency in modern society is a tight rope to walk and one that can be masterfully envisioned and displayed in post-modern novels such as “White Noise” in post-modern times.
Works Cited
Klages, Mary. Literary Theory: A Guide for the Perplexed. Continuum Press, 2007.
Monday, December 7, 2009
Jamaica Kincaid Blog
Son by Spencer Darr
Wake up on time. Brush your teeth and shower. Remember to put on deodorant, but don’t get it on your shirt. That looks foolish. Brush your teeth and eat your breakfast. Remember 15 minutes of reading the bible every morning. Do your devotions and pray. Don’t do bad things and be kind to people. Don’t forget your helmet on your bike. Don’t forget you have to ride a bike to school because you’re too old to get rides from your father. Don’t be late for class. Don’t let me hear you didn’t turn in your work. Don’t get in trouble. Respect your teachers no matter what. Respect all of your elders. Don’t be tardy ever. Don’t sleep in class. Don’t loiter with your friends after school. Be on time for football. You don’t want to look dumb so put your pads on right. Listen to your coaches and give your best effort. Don’t slack off on your drills. Outrun your teammates. Don’t let your teammates down. Don’t let your father down. Outperform. Remember why you love this sport? Isn’t it the greatest to play the same position as your father? He’s proud. Don’t get caught on the bench this weekend like a loser. Clean yourself up after you practice. Be on time for dinner. This is how you need to hold your silverware. No elbows on the table. Don’t chew you’re your mouth open. That’s not how to eat in public. Clean up the dishes so your mother doesn’t have to. This is how to load the dishwasher. This is how you load the laundry. If you want to live in this home you will do your own laundry. Make sure you shower; your father doesn’t want to smell you. It reeks. Don’t forget to practice piano. This is how you play that chord. This is how you read that chart. Don’t forget. This is how I like to sit. Don’t slouch; it’s bad for your posture. Don’t forget you have youth group tonight. Ride your bike down early. That’s how you can help your community, that’s how you can give back. Don’t let me hear you were on your cell phone the whole time. You know your father knows the pastors well. You can’t stay out late. Don’t smoke drugs you hippie. Don’t drunk like a fool. Your father has enough to worry about. Those kids never go anywhere with their lives. Do you want to come out like them? When you get home get right to your homework. You’ve had a busy day but can’t slack off. You’ll have time to rest when you’re older. Don’t stay up late. Don’t try to watch the TV with the sound off. It’s easy to see the light creep out from under your door. Don’t forget to say your prayers as you go to sleep. You don’t need to speak them out loud. God hears your thoughts too. Make sure you watch what you’re thinking about, because he’s watching all the time. And don’t forget I’m your father and love you.
Wake up on time. Brush your teeth and shower. Remember to put on deodorant, but don’t get it on your shirt. That looks foolish. Brush your teeth and eat your breakfast. Remember 15 minutes of reading the bible every morning. Do your devotions and pray. Don’t do bad things and be kind to people. Don’t forget your helmet on your bike. Don’t forget you have to ride a bike to school because you’re too old to get rides from your father. Don’t be late for class. Don’t let me hear you didn’t turn in your work. Don’t get in trouble. Respect your teachers no matter what. Respect all of your elders. Don’t be tardy ever. Don’t sleep in class. Don’t loiter with your friends after school. Be on time for football. You don’t want to look dumb so put your pads on right. Listen to your coaches and give your best effort. Don’t slack off on your drills. Outrun your teammates. Don’t let your teammates down. Don’t let your father down. Outperform. Remember why you love this sport? Isn’t it the greatest to play the same position as your father? He’s proud. Don’t get caught on the bench this weekend like a loser. Clean yourself up after you practice. Be on time for dinner. This is how you need to hold your silverware. No elbows on the table. Don’t chew you’re your mouth open. That’s not how to eat in public. Clean up the dishes so your mother doesn’t have to. This is how to load the dishwasher. This is how you load the laundry. If you want to live in this home you will do your own laundry. Make sure you shower; your father doesn’t want to smell you. It reeks. Don’t forget to practice piano. This is how you play that chord. This is how you read that chart. Don’t forget. This is how I like to sit. Don’t slouch; it’s bad for your posture. Don’t forget you have youth group tonight. Ride your bike down early. That’s how you can help your community, that’s how you can give back. Don’t let me hear you were on your cell phone the whole time. You know your father knows the pastors well. You can’t stay out late. Don’t smoke drugs you hippie. Don’t drunk like a fool. Your father has enough to worry about. Those kids never go anywhere with their lives. Do you want to come out like them? When you get home get right to your homework. You’ve had a busy day but can’t slack off. You’ll have time to rest when you’re older. Don’t stay up late. Don’t try to watch the TV with the sound off. It’s easy to see the light creep out from under your door. Don’t forget to say your prayers as you go to sleep. You don’t need to speak them out loud. God hears your thoughts too. Make sure you watch what you’re thinking about, because he’s watching all the time. And don’t forget I’m your father and love you.
Poets In The Kitchen blog
“My Kitchen” by Spencer Darr
I’m not a daughter, nor have I ever pretended to be one, so my time in the kitchen growing up was limited, at least until my first part-time job. I was however a kid who was homeschooled midway through the 3rd grade. That combined with being raised in the Midwest (aka Bible Belt country) I was around a lot of adults who loved to share what they felt, whether it was gossip, politics, or religion. Unfortunately the tradition at our large family holiday celebrations to have an “adult” table and a “kids” table, where the adults would stick my cousins and my brothers and I in the basement or a separate room, while they privately convened. The earliest oral story telling I can remember was from my mom, whom my brothers and I developed a strong relationship with as both our mother and teacher. She would tuck my older brother and me in at night (bunk-beds!) and go at length telling us about her adventures scuba diving, mishaps snow skiing, and embarrassing blunders water skiing. These would leave me with wild images to dream about but I wasn’t yet at the point in my life where I was thinking about storytelling from my own perspective.
As I grew older my love and appreciation for storytelling grew. Luckily my love for reading I had developed as a homeschooled student managed to stick with me through public education. Soon after my mid-adolescence rebellion I began to develop a desire to gather the stories of my older relatives so I could know them personally, as well as eventually pass them on.
I distinctly remember a Christmas vacation when I was able to spend time at my dad’s parent’s home for a few days. It was at a point before I was so old I had to stay home all break to work and just arrived at the point where I actually appreciated the time I spent with my grandparents. Fortunately they were both in good enough health that I was able to sit down and hear both of their life stories thoroughly. My grandma didn’t face the harsh racial barriers like Paule Marshall’s mother, but a quirky gender barrier. Unbeknownst to me, or any members of my immediate family, in high school my grandma had been a star women’s basketball player “back before they even had a three-point line!” as she fondly would put it. Unfortunately she was never given the opportunity to pursue her passion because women’s sports at the time were essentially non-existent. Her husband later joined in and they continued to detail their romance during the WWII, making sure to take little personal jabs at each other (such as my grandpa calling my grandma a cradle-rocker), and inserting the sarcasm and humor usually reserved for quotes from Bobby Bowden. The rhythm and detail involved in their storytelling instantly captivated me and has drawn me back for countless visits, giving me a glimpse into their world growing up, learning about the world at the time, and helping to shape mine.
In Paule Marshall’s “Poets in the Kitchen” she cites a quote that says ”If you say what’s on your mind in the language that comes to you from your parents and your street and friends you’ll probably say something beautiful.” (Marshall) This quote perfectly describes my appreciation for the banal and statements from my friends that I treasure with drug drone like “pine trees are acid” or simply when an old friend obviously stated, “Man I’ve known you a long time… Long enough that I’m going to have to visit you if you move away… I guess we’re old now.” The fact that I’m quoting my friends may be unknown to them but it’s the simplicity and earnest of modern language that harnesses so much beauty and endears me to the authors who I feel like are speaking so directly to me.
I’m a son and that immediately disqualifies me as an eavesdropper on the poets in the kitchen. Thankfully now I get to be one of the poets.
Works Cited
Marshall, Paule. "From The Poets In The Kitchen." No. 18 (Spring-Summer 1983)
I’m not a daughter, nor have I ever pretended to be one, so my time in the kitchen growing up was limited, at least until my first part-time job. I was however a kid who was homeschooled midway through the 3rd grade. That combined with being raised in the Midwest (aka Bible Belt country) I was around a lot of adults who loved to share what they felt, whether it was gossip, politics, or religion. Unfortunately the tradition at our large family holiday celebrations to have an “adult” table and a “kids” table, where the adults would stick my cousins and my brothers and I in the basement or a separate room, while they privately convened. The earliest oral story telling I can remember was from my mom, whom my brothers and I developed a strong relationship with as both our mother and teacher. She would tuck my older brother and me in at night (bunk-beds!) and go at length telling us about her adventures scuba diving, mishaps snow skiing, and embarrassing blunders water skiing. These would leave me with wild images to dream about but I wasn’t yet at the point in my life where I was thinking about storytelling from my own perspective.
As I grew older my love and appreciation for storytelling grew. Luckily my love for reading I had developed as a homeschooled student managed to stick with me through public education. Soon after my mid-adolescence rebellion I began to develop a desire to gather the stories of my older relatives so I could know them personally, as well as eventually pass them on.
I distinctly remember a Christmas vacation when I was able to spend time at my dad’s parent’s home for a few days. It was at a point before I was so old I had to stay home all break to work and just arrived at the point where I actually appreciated the time I spent with my grandparents. Fortunately they were both in good enough health that I was able to sit down and hear both of their life stories thoroughly. My grandma didn’t face the harsh racial barriers like Paule Marshall’s mother, but a quirky gender barrier. Unbeknownst to me, or any members of my immediate family, in high school my grandma had been a star women’s basketball player “back before they even had a three-point line!” as she fondly would put it. Unfortunately she was never given the opportunity to pursue her passion because women’s sports at the time were essentially non-existent. Her husband later joined in and they continued to detail their romance during the WWII, making sure to take little personal jabs at each other (such as my grandpa calling my grandma a cradle-rocker), and inserting the sarcasm and humor usually reserved for quotes from Bobby Bowden. The rhythm and detail involved in their storytelling instantly captivated me and has drawn me back for countless visits, giving me a glimpse into their world growing up, learning about the world at the time, and helping to shape mine.
In Paule Marshall’s “Poets in the Kitchen” she cites a quote that says ”If you say what’s on your mind in the language that comes to you from your parents and your street and friends you’ll probably say something beautiful.” (Marshall) This quote perfectly describes my appreciation for the banal and statements from my friends that I treasure with drug drone like “pine trees are acid” or simply when an old friend obviously stated, “Man I’ve known you a long time… Long enough that I’m going to have to visit you if you move away… I guess we’re old now.” The fact that I’m quoting my friends may be unknown to them but it’s the simplicity and earnest of modern language that harnesses so much beauty and endears me to the authors who I feel like are speaking so directly to me.
I’m a son and that immediately disqualifies me as an eavesdropper on the poets in the kitchen. Thankfully now I get to be one of the poets.
Works Cited
Marshall, Paule. "From The Poets In The Kitchen." No. 18 (Spring-Summer 1983)
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