Rothegut.
Rothegut will likely lead to my institutionalization by age 30. Rothegut will also lead to a fuller understanding of human nature, of the human condition. Rothegut is a drug. And Rothegut is just the beginning.
I was first turned on to Kurt Vonnegut my junior year of high school. I discovered Phillip Roth later in my junior year, after reading the acclaimed American Pastoral. After reading several of Vonnegut's books, and several of Roth's, I was defeated. Their words struck me hard, my understanding of why things were and why things weren't, shattered before my eyes. I was prompted to think unconventionally, to question everything, yet also to accept new ideas. My understanding of the simplest things was altered. I stood in the cafeteria contemplating which flavor of milk I wanted for minutes. My mind would drift while trying to complete the simplest of tasks, rendering me unable even to take the stairs two at a time. Something very real was tweaked. Nothing is the same as it was. Everything is new to me now. I feel as though I am in rehabilitation that never ends. I cannot become proficient at any single task because it seems a different task every time, and I, a different person. Perhaps it is those who see every situation a variation of one they are able to deal with, and therefore deal with it how they know to, that roam in circles. Perhaps those most competent are actually those most swiftly running in circles and chasing the tails of what they comprehend.
Why I kept reading, why I keep reading, I am not sure.
The authors shed light on darkness. Ironically, the dark space they illuminate is human nature. Roth further illuminates the thoughts that damned such characters as Ilych and Samsa, while Vonnegut elaborates on motivation, authority, and purpose. The potency of Rothegut's sting is tremendous. While the physical experience is slow and painless, the disillusioned self writhes in complacent agony until the end of its submission, usually and quite sadly, upon death of the body. Life and death, purpose and motivation. There are no fragments of existence. It doesn't fit together perfectly because it wasn't meant to. People are not supposed to be happy all of the time. Happy isn't always the right way to feel.
There are gods!
They die so others can kill, They need so others can hoard, They cry so others can laugh. But we are Them and They are Us and Us is all because we are here and because we are all one people.
Rothegut is reading Vonnegut and Roth,
Rothegut is self-reflection,
Rothegut is freedom,
Rothegut is questioning,
Rothegut is feeling the earth crumble beneath your feet yet remaining supported.
Part 1:
ReplyDeleteHi, Solomon -- I agree with you that there's a kind of disorientation that one experiences with both Roth and Vonnegut. Especially with Vonnegut, I feel that there is something very kind in that disorientation -- which may be what's leading you to that experience of "feeling the earth crumble beneath your feet yet remaining supported."
After I read your post, I went back and read "The Kid That No One Could Handle" twice. My first impression of the story on my first reading was that Helmholtz, the band teacher, was willing to destroy something of value, was willing to sacrifice something of great personal value, to reach Jim, to save Jim.
But when I reread the story, I realized that it didn't quite work that way -- that at the end of the story, Helmholtz is in no condition at all to pat himself on the back for having found a way. He's a changed man, though he didn't begin the story expecting to be one. He and Jim have both changed, and what happens next I don't know.
When I reread the story, I noticed that there might be something problematic about this very kind man's being "dazzled by his big dream," though at first I was charmed by that. His certainty was often so good for his students: annually he realized his dream of "leading as fine a band as there was on the face of the earth" "because Helmholtz was sure that a man couldn't have a finer dream than his." Passion for sure, but too much certainty??
I began to notice the words "sickening" and "sickness" creeping in to the story. On hearing about Jim's knives, Helmholtz struggles to fit that information into his construction of the world dominated by his dream of the best band: "'It's a kind of sickness, isn't it? That's the way to look at it?'" During the car ride he and Jim share to school, Helmholtz brightens up and shares some of his usual motivational ideas -- only to become "too upset to comment" when Jim's response is to light a cigarette. Towards the end of the car ride, when Helmholtz confides the temptation to do "crazy things that might even be bad for me" that's remedied only by his recalling that "I've got at least one tiny corner of the universe I can make just the way I want it . . ., Jim is not only completely unimpressed, but sarcastic in response to Helmholtz's self-satisfaction: "'Aren't you the lucky one?'" The usual spiel isn't going to work with Jim -- but that doesn't change the fact that Helmholtz cares and wants to do something good for JIm.
When the treasured belongings of the head of the English department are vandalized, Helmholtz is "sickened." He takes the violation of anybody's precious tiny corner of the universe so personally.
But dreams matter to Helmholtz, and he's sickened enough to act on the basis of nightmares. (to be continued)
Part 2:
ReplyDeleteHi, Solomon -- me again!
So the big confrontation happens in the band room -- and Helmholtz won't give Jim his boots, but will give him the trumpet -- as if it's supposed to mean to Jim what it means to Helmholtz that the trumpet belonged to John Philip Sousa.
In the midst of it, Vonnegut gives us that wonderful, vivid description of Jim's feet -- "The feet that had once seemed big black clubs were narrow as chicken wings now -- bony and blue, and not quite clean." Jim is all vulnerability here, Helmut all know-it-all. Which doesn't mean that Jim's boots are good for him. But they sure matter to him.
The good thing about Helmholtz is that he finally gets it: "Now Helmholtz saw the futility of men and their treasures" -- his trumpet, Jim's boots: neither could "buy a soul for Jim." As Helmholtz is "falling apart," Jim's eye's become feeling and human. He hasn't been managed or cajoled into this humanness -- it's the result of the Helmholtz's very real, completely genuine melt-down.
Not that that meltdown destroys Helmholtz: he's back on the podium and ready to conduct soon enough. But he's different -- and that matters. He was a good guy before, but now he's a better guy. But as you said, Solomon, he's also a less happy guy then he was before because we can't always be happy.
Helmholtz's journey makes me think of Jacob wrestling with the angel in Genesis: Jacob can't have this important encounter without being changed by it -- and that means being both enlarged and diminished by it. That's why Jacob gets a new name, but also walks with a limp.
Part 3:
ReplyDeleteHi, Solomon -- and now for the final installment:
So I guess what seems really important and wonderful about this story is that all the characters change for the better. Everyone, however, is still very much who he was: Jim is still vulnerable and becoming someone; Helmholtz is still prone to giving motivational speeches. But this time, he's talking about loving oneself rather than establishing a special corner away from the world.
So going back to what you said about your enjoyment of this earth-crumbling experience. I haven't read all that much Roth, but I do feel that Vonnegut has a greater acceptance of -- and maybe even affection for -- ALL people than Roth does. He may not love Bert Quinns of the world, but he understands something about the forces and experiences that create them, even if he laments the harm they do so easily and unintentionally.
So my question goes to you, given that you've encountered lots of variations and pieces that don't quite fit together and also don't need to. Do you think you'd like to write some of your own stories that have that quality? Or is reading adequately rewarding?
I'd love to hear about some of your most intense moments of reading Vonnegut and Roth. What moments in the text gave you those new ways of seeing and understanding that you're treasuring?
Thanks for posting this, Solomon!
JSS
Solomon,
ReplyDeleteJust catching up with your blog.
Blogging and the idea of going to college in America have a lot in common.
Basically, subversion and "look at me." Plus, beer. Part of the tradition.
More seriously, think about what makes the idea of a blog exciting: something unofficial, beyond the mask of the conventional. Inside story. Something never revealed before; something "they" would not want you to know.
And, plus, you know, "I am famous! I have a blog!"
These are also the appeals of writing literature. Except, you know, without the hassle of getting a publisher.
I spend a fair amount of time lurking in a wide range of political blogs. You might be surprised: EVERYBODY is in favor of insurrection. Even the most established, corrupt, sponsored political drivel shouts for the common people to cast off their chains and [deliver more power to the Oligarchy].
(I am looking at you, REDSTATE.)
Why does everyone who is oppressed fantasize about hitting a grand slam to send the Red Sox to the World Series?
Why is that such an attractive identity? Give us such a release? At least, for Americans in the here and now?
No one wants to be the Sheriff of Nottingham's clever cousin who subtly and unobtrusively ameliorates his cruelest policies. No, Robin Hood or bust!
But, in real life, when we get to college, and there is a big test on Tuesday, it is better to stay home on Friday night and study. We are the clever cousin. At least, I hope so.
Except in our blogs. Walter Mitty in pajamas, stalking oppression in Sherwood Forest.
With our pals, Roth and Vonnegut.
Wow, Ms. Soble! You raised a lot of good questions and brought up some interesting ideas. College applications are bearing down on me, but I hope to write a full length blog reply in order to reflect on some of your thoughts and answer those rich and thought-provoking questions as soon as I am able.
ReplyDeleteRobin Hood or bust!
ReplyDeleteHi Jim, I love what you had to say about loud displays of justice and the ostentatious, sought-after means of achieving it. As humans, I think we strive to believe that we are not like that helpful, but unrecognized cousin, and rather like that unique and existent hero that stands up not only to injustice, but to the continuously impressed dogma that we are not intrinsically unique or different from others.
My life up to this point would appear similar to those of many other teens. And the question still stands: How can we truly rebel? How can we truly be different? Joan brought up the short story by Vonnegut, “The Kid Nobody Could Handle,” which could be used as an example of rebellion against uniformity. At this point, however, the idea of the “badass” is so cliched and predictable that not many would even consider it rebellion! Perhaps that showy display of rebellion can only exist in our own minds. We try to put it out there, to force it from the confines of our skull. We try everything short of blowing our brains out onto a piece of pristine white paper. And you’re absolutely right, blogging is a helluva good way to scream at the top of our lungs without disturbing the baby.
“We are the clever cousin. Except in our blogs.” I love that.
I have always liked the speech by the preacher at the funeral near the start of "The Big Chill." Why isn't it enough just to be a good man among your fellow men?
Delete(Great movie, by the way. You should rent it, or download it, tape it -- whatever the young Cats do these days.)
I also love "Crossing Delancy." Another great movie with some similar messages and a hard-boiled look at book selling.