Wednesday, September 19, 2007

Babo's not a very threatening name for an evil mastermind

Prior to reading “Benito Cereno” my only real exposure to Herman Melville was having to read a portion of the final chapter of his magnum opus (The so-called “great American novel”) Moby-Dick for my junior high school English class. My recollection of this assignment is that it was the longest reading assignment I had during high school. The half-dozen or so pages we had to read were longer than James Michener’s The Source, Plutarch’s Lives (Of Solon and Theseus), and Chinua Achebe’s Things Fall Apart, combined. In retrospect, I know that this is ridiculous, so I was looking forward to reading some Melville with a more open, and knowledgeable attitude.

Suffice it to say, my memories of lengthy description and lengthy passages wherein little to nothing happens to further the plot occurs remained accurate. Despite this, I did enjoy Benito Cereno, though getting through the text at times was quite challenging.

At times the it seemed like a mystery story, because until the reveal of what had happened (in the “third installment”) there was a feeling that something was wrong, however, what it was wasn’t exactly clear. Knowing that the story was about a slave revolt (but not much else) made me suspicious of a lot of things.

When Melville presents us with description of the Don Benito, Babo relationship describing how while they were, “lingering around the corner of the elevated skylight, began whispering together in low voices ”, one cannot help but feel suspicious of the circumstances (185). I saw less the villain Iago poisoning the mind of noble Othello in their actions, but more an evil Cyrano, telling an impotent Christian what to say. I thought, due to how it seemed that Babo was in control of Don Benito, that the revolt had already happened (as indeed it had), and that the real Don Benito had been killed. In his place was a fair-skinned slave (all that light-skinned deception from Uncle Tom’s Cabin has affected my perceptions), whose purpose was to deal with anyone they encountered, whilst Babo was the real mastermind, who had to stay close to his “puppet” to make sure that everything went according to plan.

The other thing that struck me was that when Babo was sent to his fate (execution for the revolt) he acted very much in a way that reminded me of Othello’s villain, Iago. When his deception near the conclusion of the play, and is asked for a motive he responds, “From this time forth I never will speak word” (Act V, Scene II), which is quite similar to Babo, who we are told after the events of the revolt, refused to speak, in his defense or otherwise.

Wednesday, September 12, 2007

Situation Critical (Response to Uncle Tom's Cabin)

Let me get this out in the open. I did not like Uncle Tom's Cabin.

I have had to read books that I have not liked for class in the past, however, with them I usually understand that they are of literary merit. They are revolutionary, well-written, timeless, or tell a story that has not been told before. While one could easily argue that this book does fulfill the criteria I just listed, I personally do not think that it is good literature. I just thought that I should put my response (or at least opinion) to Uncle Tom's Cabin out there, before discussing the response of other (I assume, more qualified) critics.

What I found interesting about the reviews that we read, was how positive the response was. As a person of my time I am mostly familiar with much of the negative criticism that exists in regards to Uncle Tom's Cabin, so I was (more or less) surprised at the positive reviews that abounded about Stowe's masterwork. Allen praised the realism of the book, and was glad that such attention (from the book's success) was being brought to the issue of slavery. The only real qualm he had with the work, was the over-piety of the titular character, which though presented by Stowe as a positive trait is viewed by Allen (and many of his successors) as a very negative characteristic.

Something that I did not realize was how incredibly influential the novel was. While I know it was one of the best-selling novels of the 19th century, and have heard that Lincoln referred to it as "the book that ended slavery", I did not realize that it was as influential as it was. In his article Levine touches on some of the articles which Fredrick Douglass' Paper re-published about the book that talk about the effects of the book's influence. Not only did it help sway opinion in the North, but it also had affect in the South and had influence abroad (especially in the U.S.'s former mother country, Britain). This was interesting, because it meant that clearly the book accomplished (to an extent) what Stowe intended it to do, bring an awareness to the horrible practice of slavery.

I also found it interesting to see that even at the time of the novel's publication there were negative feelings about the ways that characters were depicted, and especially harsh was the criticism of Stowe's support of Colonialism (which seemed to conflict, and undue a lot of the good that the story had done, prior to its ending.). Overall I found the reception of the novel more interesting than the novel itself. But then again, I did not think much of Uncle Tom's Cabin.

Wednesday, September 5, 2007

Mid-book and the idea of Good and Evil

Before I begin this post, I would like to re-visit my previous post, briefly, before moving on to new ideas. In the reading since my last post, the dialects (or vernacular) of the slaves actually played a small role in the action of the story. When we are introduced to the St. Clare household, among those to whom the reader is introduced to is, Adolph, who is St. Clare’s personal servant. Unlike many (if not most of) the slaves we meet to this point he speaks like his owners. For this he is criticized by his fellow slave Dinah who is tired of Adolph and his ilk, “cuttin’ round, makin’ b’lieve you’s white folks. Arter all, you’s niggers, much as I am” (187). It was interesting to see this kind of reaction to a difference as small as how the slaves talk. It seemed like the non-domestic slaves, almost see the domestic slaves as traitors to who they are (and their race), by taking on the manners of their white owners. This is clearly still an issue today amongst African -Americans who are sometimes criticized for acting “white”. I just thought this was interesting, now on to new business.

There was an Idea that was brought up earlier on in the book that has since been focused on more, and that is the relationship between religion and good and evil. Early in the book, when Uncle Tom is sold by Mr. Shelby, we are first exposed to this. Though Shelby is a “good” and religious man he is still made evil by his association with slavery. When the faithfully religious Uncle Tom says, “pray for them that ‘spitefully use you, the good book says”, Stowe seems to be using him to indict the establishment which claims to be Christian and yet does not practice what they preach (48). So I was confused, Tom’s faith is painted as not only an important aspect of who he is, but one that makes him a better person. So what’s Stowe’s position? Considering that her father and all of her male siblings became ministers, I think that it is safe (to say the least) that Stowe’s view of faith was in general, positive.

So what’s interesting is what the text seems to say. Religion alone does not make a person good or bad. While there is Tom, whose religion helps him to get through the tough times he encounters as a slave, as well as the ridiculously pure and angelic Eva, whose faith is strong, many of the characters are not this cut and dry. There are those like Eva’s mother Marie, who while a faithful church attendee, certainly does not follow the teachings of her faith. There are also those like the evil slave owner Simon Legree, who tells Tom that, “I’m your church now”, reflecting his thoughts on Christianity (293). Despite the atheism of an evil character like Legree, not all without religion are shown to be evil. After all, there are many slaves (including Tom for most of his life) who do not know religion, and they are not portrayed as bad or evil. The most notable example of the non-religious being good is St. Clare, a good man, who despite his desperate desire to believe in God cannot. Despite his lack of a true religious affiliation, he is a good person, he is not bad merely because he lacks faith (for most of his life at least). Stowe in doing this presents us with an interesting (and true idea) that good and evil cannot be assumed by one’s religious affiliation. Good and evil are far more complicated than that, which is an important thing for Stowe to touch on. For especially with a subject as seemingly black and white as slavery, amongst those involved there is a fair amount of moral ambiguity.