Marche SLave Op. 31 Tchaikovsky

Berliner Philharmoniker, Herbert von Karajan, cond. - Marche Slave, Op. 31 .mp3
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Saturday, September 10, 2011

I was given-


I was given eyes, and was told to look.
I did, but never saw.
I was given one heart, and was told to keep.
I did, but lost it some day.
I was given a self, and lost myself in it.
I was given, I was given, I was given much . . .

I was given a dream, so I won’t feel the night,
But my dream deferred, and turned into a nightmare.
I was given a mouth, so one day it could speak,
Alas it uttered words so hopeless and bleak.
I was given tears, both for loss and bliss,
But I never cried from happiness, you see?
I was given conscience,
And I don’t know why
I was given I was given I was given . . .

I was given books, so I could learn to live,
But I never learned the life’s lesson from them.
I was given hands to bring together in prayer,
But I never prayed neither to god nor to devil.
I was given a life to live it plainly,
But I waste it now, and I don’t know where.
I was given, I was given, I was given in vain . . .

Almost Magical

He pulls out from his hat

Doves that take wing and fly,

Rabbits that elude and flee,

And so many other somethings.


Whatever comes into my head,

He draws out from his hat—

The unthinkable, the uncanny,

But he keeps all for himself,

Saving nothing for me.


Yet whatever my heart aspires

Does not emerge from his hat.

For a moment he gives me hope,

And in another takes it away.

He only piles up colorful cloths—

Rags, ribbons, and laces . . .


And then he blows silver dust into my eyes . . .


Dear magician,

Phenomenal illusionist,

Oh, God,

I will call you what you want,

Only pull out the flower of my wounded heart.

Don’t give it to me, never mind,

Just show it to me, that’s enough . . .

Friday, September 9, 2011

Unmitigated Anarchy


She feels as if everything is too much and nothing is enough, or there is too much of not enough. She thinks she runs out of things to do, but really she does not have any desire to do much. She ends up talking to herself in endless rehearsals—rehearsals in which she revises and revises and revises. Does it help her fill the empty spots, or does her life pass before her eyes in a series of pensive vignettes? As a result, she finds herself suffocating under the niagara of her own thoughts.
As far as she could discern in her memories, the compound was inundated with losers of every description: dastards and nudniks, midgets in denial, lobotomized dreamers, and maniacal altruists. I leveled with these? she thought. Then she wished for something, anything that liposuctions bad karma. She looked outside the glass door, then quickly turning her head from the filing clerk whose salivary glands would shift into third every time he looked at her, she snarled. Here she is, blue and terrified, looking outside the window, searching for raison d’être. She checked her messages in a quick manner, disregarding most. With the eyes of a cod she looked at the man wearing an advanced-sarcoma-sized pinkie ring. He went on and on and on, as if he suffered from verbal diarrhea. Before leaving, he recited Sonnet XXXIV. She reacted, murmured something, and then averted her eyes, looking directly at the flowerpot, continuing to drown into her jumbled thoughts. He is a know-it-all but does not really get it. She imagined herself as a consummate professor, having a place on a hill, uttering Shakespeare all day. Using deep breathing exercises, she got up at once to avoid hyperventilating into oblivion. With psychotic intensity, she walked out of the room like a myrmidon, not closing the door behind her. She had to get out—the atmosphere reeked of self-proclaimed minions. Almost running over the phenomenally concocted blonde who doubled as secretary and masseuse, she drove to the exit. It was too much. She gasped for air, pulled up in front of the fountain at the cemetery close by, opened up a letter and started to read. Aristotelian recipe for tragedy she thought. With one breath she read or reread the writing. She felt a cold shiver projecting up her spine. What then? This is an anomaly. It might give birth to a rising star, but still . . . it would not be enough . . .

Saturday, September 3, 2011

Chaos

Labyrinthine associations in the mind . . . Reason? Insanity? Awareness? All? All that breathes, all that walks, all that becomes . . . Making sense . . . Sensing the moment, feeling as if destined to be . . . To be unique. A complete lack of understanding the systematic arrangement of order itself. Randomness of thoughts . . . Preferring one over the other . . . Actions . . . The next one, and the next one, as if the chain is linked to an unbounded space . . . A host of fortuitous molecules and random elements that form this matter . . . Is it like the haphazardly disposed accumulation of water droplets that forms a cloud? No . . . No affinities . . . It is more complex . . . The knot is not being untied . . . Why can’t others see the variations? Perhaps those are not as scientific as the vacillation of a pendulum in a clock, or the billowing of a rock down a versant, or the crushing of surf on a cliff. They are not linear for them to see the horizon of this divide. The expected and the random . . . Anything that can possibly ever take place, will take place next . . . How random then are thoughts knowing the probability of any event, depending on what just happened? My mind is determined to possess a tenuous amount of rationality. Yet it won't. It is complete chaos . . .

Sunday, June 12, 2011

Jewish American Literature: Generational Trauma

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Reimagining History: A “Real” Affair

Fictional narratives mixed with historical elements explore Jewish characters’ experiences both in Jonathan Safran Foer’s Everything is Illuminated and Philip Roth’s Plot Against America, creating the fundamental question: What are the benefits of historical truth, especially in these stories? The main characters, in both works, are Holocaust survivors and children of survivors, concerned about their precise place in history. They are in search for identity, undergoing direct and generational trauma, creating nostalgia for a world in which they were born into a place that was theirs for a lifetime. The hope of being reunited with a loved one, or even finding the slightest information, despite fact that the person is no longer alive, or of completing a particular project, play an important role in one’s survival. Both Jonathan Safran Foer and Philip Roth constantly ask questions, wrestle with the truth and historical facts, remain unsatisfied with answers, particularly with answers that seem not to satisfy and relieve them: Each period in history has its evils, but the World War II period stains one’s thoughts and visions. The two novels by Foer and Roth, though seemingly different, yet they impart a similar message: When words are not enough to describe the failure of man to man and when language seems to trivialize the dehumanizing events and the crisis of identity, historical facts become the vehicle by which meaning is conveyed.

Though it is true that Foer’s narrative incorporates fantastic elements, coexistence of multiple worlds, and reconciliation of different languages, nonetheless, it uses historical truth to illuminate one of the narrator’s, Jonathan’s beginnings. Jonathan is a Jewish-American who travels to the Ukraine, in order to explore his past. The village of Trachimbrod is the Ukrainian village Trochenbrod, and its story is mythical in the novel, presenting a disruption in the linear presentation of events—a strategy that assists in the portraying of traumas of the past. The characters in the novel, as it progresses, slowly become part of a larger picture encompassing individual and collective traumas. The reader’s experience of assembling together the story piece by piece into a linear narrative is in accord with the structure of trauma as a disruption in history. Every historical element is like a code for something missing. In here, the village of Trachimbrod is the code for the missing Jewish population, massively killed by the Nazis. It acts as a door for Jonathan to solve his crisis for identity. Critic Elitza Kotzeva, have pointed that “readers who seek similarities between the historical Holocaust in the Ukraine and the events described in the text might stumble upon obvious problems regarding the story’s authenticity.” This is not the point of such usage of historical facts. What one chooses to unveil in fiction is directed by a motive essentially aesthetic; the reader criticizes the author of a novel by how he tells the tale.

Further, what might one ask is how close is the narration to the truth? Examining Foer’s novel, the following interpretation is inevitable: Memories are a significant part of one’s life. Jonathan has come to the Ukraine to unearth some of the memories his grandmother and grandfather attempted to bury. Reimagination of history is not a manipulation on Foer’s part, but a reflection of his attitudes toward memory. Jonathan Safran Foer attempts to express how significant memories are. He tells the story of Brod, a woman living in Trochimbrod, who’ll give birth to a child whose direct descendant will be Jonathan, to show how it directly relates to that of his grandfather. Out of the desire to remember everything the people of Trachimbrod create The Book of Antecedents and The Book of Recurrent Dreams. These books are passed down generation after generation and studied in attempt to keep the memories of their fathers alive. Lisa Propst, in her article “Making One Story? Forms of Reconciliation in Jonathan Safran Foer’s Everything is Illuminated and Nathan Englander’s The Ministry of Special Cases” quotes Foer, “the fictional Jonathan finds nothing but nothing, traveling through a landscape of completely realized absence” (30). Although Jonathan, the “hero,” as Alex, the other narrator in the novel calls him, finds no woman called Augustine who supposedly saved his grandfather during the Holocaust, but he finds hope and history that connect him to his past and partly complete the incomplete. Why would someone try to theorize such traumatic experiences? There might be no unanswered questions, but doesn’t every novel embody some dark areas? And isn’t sometimes the essence of the question to be without answer. The ultimate importance here is that Jonathan, reimagining historical truth, creates a possibility for the unity with the past. However one defines hope, most Jews during the dark times had none. For many, memories were the only element to soothe the anguish that had penetrated their souls. In his narrative, in reference to Trachimbrod, Jonathan says, “There’s definitely something out there” (Foer 99), still hoping and waiting for the memory to unveil itself. It is true that Foer’s acquaintance with the facts is much less “developed” than his understanding and weighing of fiction; nonetheless, there is definitely purpose and balance “out there.”

Similarly, Philip Roth’s The Plot Against America reimagines some elements of historical truth, bringing historical incident to life. Nathan Zuckerman speaks of Roth, “And as he spoke I was thinking, the kind of stories that people turn life into, the kind of lives that people turn stories into” (qtd. in Roth 3). The natural thought is that fiction only cannot function within the sphere of make-believe. After all, most readers prefer facts or what they take to be facts. For instance, if there were no Charles A. Lindbergh in the novel, along with the kidnapping story of his son, he would not for a moment win the reader’s sympathy, thus creating a cold transition in the novel. The non-fictional characters are also there for the reader to make connections to the present times and see how politics works its destructive effects at the personal level. Though it is true that Roth oscillates between fable and familiar realism or documentation, yet the reader experiences the outrage and frustration lived by the characters. As Judith Paterson Jones and Guinevera state in Philip Roth, “[Roth] points to the universalities of the human condition that lie beneath the secular façade” (162). It is apparent that the seven-year-old protagonist, Philip, represents many seven-year-old children in extraordinarily dreadful conditions, for instance the Holocaust, who simply wish “why-can’t-it-be-the-way-it-was” and often think, “I’d never before had to grow up at a pace like this” (Roth 172). There is certainly a confusion of identity for Philip, as he is unable to grasp big and dark concepts such as race, hatred, and anger. Also, the anti-Semitism and Lindbergh’s fascist administration in the United States, in the parameters of the novel, although fictional, but do not fail to depict man’s inhumanity to man and pains, both physical and emotional, that are so overwhelming.

Moreover, there is a two-folded experience in Roth’s novel: the historical truth and the basis of the representation of the truth. The truth is already blurred with fiction in the novel, and by the time it is passed to the reader, it is again re-interpreted and re-modeled. So is there really historical truth? As Herman Roth, young Philips’s father puts it, “Because what’s history? History is everything that happens everywhere. Even here in Newark. Even here on Summit Avenue. Even what happens in his house to an ordinary man—that’ll be history too someday” (Roth 180). Thus, history and historical truth are created by internalizing the external—the external, here, being the factual elements. Gregory Currie, in his essay “Both Sides of the Story: Explaining Events in a Narrative” describes the process through which we decide to interpret fiction: The author creates a world: a world of characters and events, and the characters do what the author decides they should do . . . we don’t seek to explain why this or that is fictional, we seek to explain why this character did that, or why this fate befell that character (54). Applying the notion to The Plot Against America, whatever the vehicle, Roth’s attack is consistently the disparity in American life, his targets being America’s hyper-nationalists, racists, sexists, and vulgarians. The reader’s “job” is to filter the fictional and factual in the novel and come up with his own interpretation. Roth’s novel is multilayered, and one than more notions can be born after reading the novel. One thing, however, is clear—Roth makes reality credible in fiction. Holocaust seems to be the central point of the novel, yet in the plot against America is where the focus should be. If there were no historical figures, such as Lindbergh or Franklin Roosevelt mentioned in the novel, how then would this be a satire on American political life or an attack on its most abhorrent matters? The historical truth needs to be there in order to create close relationship between the reader and the text. If the reader relates to the non-fictional characters and some of the “real” events within the story, he can certainly reimagine the position of the familiar target—American nuclear family within such a corrupt state.

The historical truth is represented as something essential, yet multi-layered in both Foer’s and Roth’s novels. In Everything is Illuminated, historical elements represent a return to the past, giving much significance to memory. These truthful segments, in this particular piece, eliminate the superficiality of the characters. They give Jonathan, not only hope that his past exists and unity with the past members of the family who have been killed during the Holocaust is still possible, though not physically, but at the same time depict the ferocities of fascists who wanted to entirely get rid of Jews, from the planet, as a “final solution.” Jonathan’s journey is reminiscent of the emotional crossing of the survivors or the children of survivors who want to be suspended on earth with ties to someone, to some thing. Similar to Foer’s novel in stylisitic approach and topics, The Plot Against America is “reality” found in American experience. The historical truth in this novel is based mostly on true-life characters and events. The fantasized Holocaust occurrences in the novel are mostly satirical, in order to show the surrealism of the “real” world. It is an attack on corrupt politics, which has its devastating effects at the personal level. As a result, the individual is engaged in a life and death struggle with all the internal and external forces of control.

Works Cited

Currie, Gregory. “Both Sides of the Story: Explaining Events in a Narrative.”

Philosophical Studies: An International Journal for Philosophy in the Analytic

Tradition 135.1 (2007): 49-63. Print.

Foer, Jonathan Safran. Everything is Illuminated. New York: HarperCollins, 2002. Print.

Jones, Judith P., and Guinevera A. Nance. Philip Roth. New York: Frederick Ungar

Publishing Co., Inc., 1981. Print.

Kotzeva, Elitza. “Everything is Illuminated.” Masterplots (2010): 1-3.

MagillOnLiterature Plus. EBSCO. Web. 1 May 2011.

Propst, Lisa. “Making One Story?’ Forms of Reconciliation in Jonathan Safran Foer’s

Everything is Illuminated and Nathan Englander’s The Ministry of Special Glass.”

MELUS 36.1 (2011): 36-60. Academic Search Elite. EBSCO. Web. 1 May 2011.

Roth, Philip. The Facts: A Novelist’s Autobiography. New York: Farrar, Straus, &

Giroux, 1988. Print.

Roth, Philip. The Plot Against America. New York: Vintage Books, 2004. Print.