Intellectual Experience 3

Hobbits in Tolkien's Oxford

Tolkien's Tree in the Oxford Botanic Gardens

    Re-reading the Lord of the Rings trilogy during my time in Oxford shed light on a number of the themes in the series that I had never quite understood. In particular, the themes of nature and a fraternal culture seemed to stem from Tolkien's time in Oxford.

    Many of Tolkien's favorite "spots" in Oxford revolved around nature. The tree that appears in many pictures of the author, including the last one ever taken of him before his death, is located in the Oxford Botanic Gardens. In a small city of cement and academic documents, the small patch of nature and cultivated beauty is a refreshing relief. It is rumored that Tolkien did much of his reading beneath the tree. The theme of nature is also prevalent in his works. The antagonists Sauron and Saruman are known for their deeds of destroying forests. Tolkien's protagonists fight for nature, and the Ents are trees themselves: nature personified. Tolkien's value in nature is clear both in the novels and in his biography. This value could be seen and felt in Oxford as well. Tolkien's desire to escape from the asphalt sea into a shaded garden seems to be quite popular, judging by the regular visitors to the gardens.

    Oxford has been recently criticized for its "laddish" culture. The school's historic reluctance to include females is well noted. Tolkien has also been criticized for excluding women from his writing. The Hobbit includes no speaking females, while The Lord of the Rings, in all 1357 pages, includes three speaking females. Tolkien supporters justify this by calling upon the culture in Tolkien's time in both the Army and in Oxford. If the traces of fraternal culture in Oxford are still lingering, one can only imagine how prevalent they were during Tolkien's time as a don. The author's environment clearly affected his work.

Intellectual Experience 2

Portrait of the Artist as a Young Dubliner

At the James Joyce statue in Dublin

    Visiting Dublin, it was easy to see the source of many of the sentiments expressed in James Joyce's Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man. The sense of Irish nationalism and religious turmoil that Joyce's protagonist, Stephen Dedalus, grapples with was clear from the beginning. From the moment my family and I climbed into the taxi at the Dublin airport and headed toward our hotel, we felt the strong sense of Irish nationalism. Our taxi driver began the ride by explaining, at my brother's questioning, the sports emblem on his jacket: it represented Dublin's Gaelic football team. He added, "Ya support yer team on the field and in the pubs, even when the fists are involved. That's the Irish way." His pride in his team and his nation's sport was evident, and he was proud to tell us outsiders all about it. He was reminiscent of Joyce's nationalistic characters.

    This strain of nationalism became more and more evident the longer we spoke. When my mother began asking me about British slang, the driver chimed in: "Dontcha be usin' that British talk over here, girlie. The locals don't like it none." He continued to disparage his neighboring country, much to our surprise. His glowing, positive pride in his country turned into a nationalistic distaste in anything non-Irish. Stephen Dedalus best expresses this sentiment: "Whatsoever of thought or of feeling came to him from England or by way of English culture his mind stood armed against (Joyce)."

    The religious influence on Dublin is evident in a quick survey of the city. There are hundreds of churches and two main cathedrals (unusual for a city). Both St. Patrick's and Christ Church Cathedrals are still popular tourist destinations. Stephen Dedalus grapples with his own religious identity in Joyce's Portrait. From dealing with brutish religious authority figures in his childhood to his own religious piety and subsequent deviousness, Stephen sees many sides to Dublin's religious identity. The many visitors to the two cathedrals expressed the popularity of religion in Dublin. It was, however, surprising to see the pubs and drinking facilities flanking the cathedrals. This sense of deviousness or impiety was reflected by one of the priests I encountered: a friendly, older priest approached me and asked if I had an American boyfriend in the states. When I said "yes," he continued to teach me a phrase in Gaelic to tell to him. When I asked him to translate, instead of the pious statement I expected, he told me that the phrase meant "I like the Irish boys better." His jovial (however impious) sense of humor was unexpected, but reflected a lighthearted, mischievous nature that was absent in Joyce's portrayal of the Irish church, though it did fit with the impious representations.

Joyce, James. A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man. New York: Viking, 1964. Print.

Intellectual Experience 1

Fado in Lisboa

Inside the Fado House

    In Lisbon, we were fortunate enough to be escorted around by a local, an old friend of mine, Manel. When we asked him to show us something unique to Portugal and Lisbon, he decided immediately that we would go to a Fado house. He briefed us on the history of Fado and its current state. Portugal was a big player in the Age of Exploration (or the Age of Discoveries, as they call it), so many of the sons, brothers, and husbands of Portugal were departing for new shores, possibly never to return again. Fado speaks to the dolorous and longing nature inherent in Portuguese culture following these departures.

Monument to Portuguese Explorers (as well as a Lisbon sunset over the river)

    The crowd in the Fado house was interesting to observe; the listeners were either elderly or quite young, with a large gap between the ages. Manel had explained that Fado was experiencing a recent resurgence. His personal opinion was that although many of the new, young singers lacked the experience necessary to add depth to the emotion in the songs, it was still a positive thing that the culture of Fado was being preserved and carried on. Perhaps the up-and-coming singers would gain emotional depth as they grew in age. He also suggested that during a time when the younger generations in Portugal have no promises of employment in the future due to the economy, they may find an emotional connection in the music of longing, singing about departure to shores beyond Lisbon.

    One possible explanation to the age disparity in Fado listeners is the political climate surrounding Fado for the past 80 years. Between 1933-1978, Portugal was under an authoritarian government. According to a Lisbon resident on the Portugal episode of Anthony Bourdain's No Reservations (a program intended to explore the food and culture of various locations), the leaders of Portugal's authoritarian regime (whom he referred to as the past dictators), supported and encouraged Fado. Those opposed to the regime, such as the speaker, also developed an aversion to Fado. Listening to it, he said, brings back memories of the oppressive regime. The new, younger audience for Fado would not have those connections in the back of their minds. The older generation may enjoy the nostalgia without making the direct connection between the music and the regime. To explain the age gap, the in-between generation may not find the music nostalgia-inducing, nor find the emotional connection to the music that the current generation finds.

Tutorial Post 2

Bram Stoker and the New Woman

    While a close reading of Stoker's Dracula produces the conclusion that Stoker was condemning female sexuality, his ambivalent stance toward the "New Woman" brings to question Stoker's opinions on the fervent feminist debates happening during his lifetime.

    Textually, Dracula portrays sexual women as literal monsters. Any displays of female sexuality were signs of a degeneration into a vampiric state. Therefore, the novel is oft criticized for having a sexist nature. However, when Stoker directly addresses the "New Woman" through Mina's journal, it is quite an ambivalent statement: "I believe we should have shocked the 'New Woman' with our appetites" is all that Mina says. The statement is neither critical nor supportive of the New Woman.

    Biographically, Stoker gives no indication toward his stance on the New Woman or feminism. His mother, Charlotte Mathilda Blake Thornley Stoker, strongly supported feminism (Wainright). One would think, given this upbringing, Bram Stoker would continue his mother's plight for gender equality. However, history has marked him a misogynist based on the common interpretation of his most popular work. He never refuted nor supported this label. In sum, it cannot be concluded whether or not Stoker agreed with the patriarchal message of Dracula, as biographical evidence points to both sides.

Stoker, Bram. “Dracula.” Constable, London, 2012. 1897. Print.

Wainright, Michael. "Female Suffrage in Ireland: James Joyce's Realization of Unrealized Potential." Highbeam Business. N.p., 22 Sept. 2009. Web.

Tutorial Post #1

The Nature of the Native

    In both Shakespeare's The Tempest and Rider Haggard's King Solomon's Mines, the native is portrayed in a derogatory, Euro-centric manner.  Shakespeare's Caliban and Haggard's native tribe are all depicted at times in ways that are less than human.  Their reactions to the Europeans show a servile, naive attitude.

    Shakespeare's Caliban is constantly portrayed as devilish or animalistic. These traits undermine his humanity and separate him from the European interlopers on his isle. Trinculo alludes to this separation when he states: "There would this monster make a man - any strange beast there make a man. When they would not give a doit to relieve a lame beggar, they will lay out ten to see a dead Indian. Legged like a man, and his fins like arms!" (II.ii).  Here, he both perpetuates and criticizes the European treatment of natives. Trinculo furthers the idea that Caliban is a beast, a monster, and less than a man. However, he seems to critique the European practice of paying to view native bodies as if they were specimens.  Rider Haggard's Gagoola is portrayed as equally animalistic: "It crept on all fours, but when it reached the place where the king sat, it rose upon its feet" (Haggard 121). Haggard's narrator prefaces Gagoola's appearance with his introduction, where he states that he considers her a fiend rather than a woman. Like Trinculo's analysis of Caliban, Haggard's narrator is portraying Gagoola as less than human from the view of a European man.

    Caliban himself also perpetuates the idea that a native is naturally servile, or less than Europeans.  After a taste of alcohol, he professes his loyalty to the Europeans, just moments after cursing his indentured debt to Prospero: "I'll show thee every fertile inch o' th' island -/And I will kiss thy foot. I prithee be my god" (II.ii).  Similarly, the natives in King Solomon's Mines profess the European explorers as gods. The element of the unfamiliar - alcohol in The Tempest and white skin, a monocle, and dentures in King Solomon's Mines - brings out the naive qualities in the natives. By claiming the Europeans are gods, both sets of natives are portrayed as uneducated and illogical, and therefore "less than" the Europeans.

Haggard, Rider. “King Solomon’s Mines.” Puffin Books, 1966. 1885. Print.

Shakespeare, William, G. Blakemore Evans, and J. J. M. Tobin. The Riverside Shakespeare. Boston:

Houghton Mifflin, 1997. Print.