Lit Final

For those of you who are not inclined towards the literary arts, you may want to skip this post. For those of you who are, and who hold high standards for literary arguments, I beg you to be kind, since I had the misfortune to choose a book I hadn't read before for this paper, and one that has so many possibilities for argument that I was hard pressed to keep on subject. This is, of course, only the first draft, and it was written in it's entirety between 6:00 pm and 8:20 pm, but it's the best my poor fried brain can do tonight, especially considering that I will have the ability to revise it after a week of decompression. But, with no further ado, I give you: My Lit Paper.

The Handmaid’s Tale, by Margaret Atwood, is the story of one woman in the Republic of Gilead, a country created by a slow religious revolution in the United States. This woman, referred to as “Offred” when she names herself at all, tells of her own experiences in this new theocracy, which separates women into categories, Wives, Marthas, Handmaids, Econowives, and Unwomen. As a Handmaid, Offred’s duties are to get the groceries for the household, and to provide, through a monthly ceremonial copulation with the head of the household- the Commander, who by deduction is named Fred- and his wife, Serena Joy, a child. The Ceremony, as this ritual in which the Handmaid actually lays upon the Wife during copulation with the husband is called, comes from a biblical reference in which Rachel circumvents her own infertility.

And when Rachel saw that she bare Jacob no children, Rachel envied her sister; and said unto Jacob, Give me children, or else I die.

And Jacob’s anger was kindled against Rachel; and he said, Am I in God’s Stead, who hath withheld from thee the fruit of the womb?

And she aid, Behold my maid Bilhah, go in unto her; and she shall bear upon my knees, that I may also have children by her (Bible Genesis 30:1-3).

The book rambles and meanders through the thoughts and remembrances of Offred, giving little concrete background on the beginning of the war, or the progress so far. Only that which Offred has personally experienced is mentioned, but even the short forays into Offred’s memories are enough to paint a gory picture of a religious holocaust, and a state of slavery for women.

The religious uprising in New England begins with what appear at the time to be ordinary crimes of the time. Murders, bombings, protests. The slow takeover causes many people to shrug off the insidious changes. Women are no longer allowed to hold jobs, or money in their own names, businesses that cater to the more puerile interests, but which, in the society of the book, have become run of the mill, are shut down. Eventually Offred and her husband, Luke, a divorced man, realize the danger and attempt to escape to Canada with their daughter, who is never named. The escape attempt fails, Luke is likely killed, and their daughter is taken away from Offred, before she herself is placed in a Center, to be taught, and brainwashed into, her new position in society.

Many people have challenged this book in school libraries, due to what they call its anti-religious stand, and its bald-faced approach to sex and sexuality. However, The Handmaid’s Tale is not anti-religious, merely anti-fanatical. Nowhere in the text is the specific religion of Gilead mentioned; only that it is based on the Christian Bible. The Handmaid’s Tale sits at number thirty-seven on the American Library Association’s list of the 100 most challenged books (100 Most Frequently Challenged Books 1990-2000).

The controversial nature of the book is made apparent by a quote from the Houston Chronicle on the cover of the 1998 Anchor Books Edition, “Read it while it’s still allowed.”

The holocaust begins with isolated incidents, bodies found in ditches. By the current time in the book, which is fluid in itself, the killing of doctors who performed abortions, or irreversible contraceptive measures on women (and presumably men,) or men who seek sexual satisfaction from each other, are formalized. During a “particicution”, in which the Handmaids are encouraged and required to carry out the execution of a man accused of rape which resulted in the death of an unborn child, Offred describes her own perspective:

There’s a surge forward, like a crowd at a rock concert in the former time, when the doors opened, that urgency coming like a wave through us. The air is bright with adrenaline, we are permitted anything and this is freedom, in my body also, I’m reeling, red spreads everywhere, but before that tide of cloth and bodies hits him Ofglen is shoving through the women in front of us, propelling herself with her elbows, left, right, and running towards him. She pushes him down, sideways, then kicks his head viciously, one, two, three times, sharp painful jabs with the foot, well aimed. Now there are sounds, gasps, a low noise like growling, yells, and the red bodies tumble forward and I can no longer see, he’s obscured by arms, fists, feet. A high scream comes from somewhere, like a horse in terror (Atwood 279-280).

One might say that the so-called particicutions provide an outlet for the frustrations of the Handmaids, frustrations with their daily life and position in society, but the occasions are nothing more than organized murders, used to reinforce the government’s psychological hold over the Handmaids, and also to get rid of those whom the government feels need gotten rid of.

The Handmaids are forced to rely on their wombs, their ability to reproduce, to survive. If a woman is incapable of bearing a child and has no useful household skills, and is unmarried, she is forced to go to the colonies, to hard and often dangerous labor, and worse living conditions. To reproduce the Handmaids must endure daily the indignities of their position, and when the government wants to reinforce their hold over the women, they give them a man, tell the women that he caused one of their own to lose the safety provided by becoming pregnant in a brutal act, and not only allow but encourage them to beat him to death.

The dead, leaders of rival religions, former doctors, men accused of gender treachery- homosexuality- are hung upon a wall for the inhabitants of Gilead to see. Since women are forbidden to read, their crimes are told in pictures, on placards hung around their necks.

Some might say that the display of the executed is the government’s way of reassuring the citizens that they are making the world a better place, but in reality it is no better than the likes of Hitler having lampshades and shoes made of the skins of the Jewish murdered. His government insisted that it was doing the right thing, too.

The government in The Handmaid’s Tale makes a practice of enslaving women, both as Handmaids and Marthas, and in the case of the Unwomen, as menial labor. They kill off anyone that disagrees with them, most especially those who might use their own religious text to point out the fallacies in the framework they have built their tyranny upon. No, there is no balm in Gilead, but only degradation for women, and torture and death for those deemed enemies of the state.

I love this place

On my way home from class tonight (and after sending Monkey on his way home, *sniffle*) I had to stop down by the park, and turn on my hazards, because there was, well, a hazard.

The herd of whitetail deer that habitually visit the creek that runs through the golf course, behind the college, and eventually peters out through the city park were crossing the road, in a very stately and regal manner.

I swear one of them gave me the royal nod, giving me permission to go back to my commuting once they were past.

In other news, I'm about a quarter of the way into my final Lit paper, which means I'm knee deep in argument mode, and hip deep in MLA standards for citations. About to get deeper as I get back to it. This is only the first draft, I'll turn it in tomorrow, then have a conference on it the week after Thanksgiving (thank god, a week off... a week which I'll spend puttering around and putting together my business plan).

When I finish with it, I'll post it here for your enjoyment, so ya'll can see that I'm getting some value out of my higher edumacation. Plus, after I finish this my brain will be too fried to write anything intelligent for at least two days. All that there book learnin' has done got me plumb burnt out. Considering half of my classes have been pushing to finish everything important before Thanksgiving break so that we can take it easy and just study for finals afterwards, and the rest are pushing to be able to cover everything before it's time for finals, well, it's no surprise that I'm needing a week off.

Thank god my Lit teacher is fairly relaxed about things, or I'd be screwed.

Not to mention some of Farmmom's punkin pie. Remember, Farmmom, you promised to make an extra just for me to bring back with me!

Once more into the fray, dear friends. Wherever I fall, there shall I be buried.

Or some such nonsense, anyway.

Thank a Veteran Today

Since today is one of those days, I've decided to post here what I'm writing on my Operation: Love From Home cards.

To Those Who Serve-

This holiday season, you’re far from home, missing your families, friends, pets, and most likely your beds.

Some of you are in hellish conditions, being shot at, and running the risk of coming upon an IED daily. Most of you are living without things that we here at home take for granted each and every day.

Whenever I think about that, my heart feels heavy. I wish you could be home right now, hugging your wives and girlfriends, your husbands and boyfriends, your kids and your parents. I wish you had the luxury of going to an office, or to class every morning, like I do.

And then I think of my nephews, my friends and my family, and I remember that you stepped up and volunteered to protect them, and me, and my heart swells again with pride that there are such people in our society.

People who die, so that others don’t have to.

I am so proud that there are people like you in the world, and you can never know how much it is appreciated.

Some of you don’t get letters, or cards, or care packages. Some of you may be feeling lonely, like no one cares, but that isn’t true.

We care. I care. This card is for every soldier, sailor, corpsman or airman. But it is especially for those who are alone, or feeling down, or wondering why they were ever dumb enough to sign that contract.

This card is to say Thank You. Thank you for my nephews, my parents, my friends, and for me.

If you know a soldier who could use a pick-me-up, please, pass this on to him or her. If you know a soldier who needs someone to write a letter to, give them my address. I can not think of a better way to spend some time than in giving back to those who have left their whole lives behind, so that I can sit here and pen this note in safety, and in freedom.

Thank you, a million times thank you, for everything that you have given up, and everything that you do, so that others won’t have to.

Battle is Joined...

I girded myself for battle, preparing my body and my mind. I was looking forward to a nice, fierce fight, something to test my abilities and create within me the excitement of victory.

My opponent put on a nice threat display during our battle preparations, and my hopes were raised as I walked on to the testing ground.

Battle was joined, I pursued the advantage, pushing my opponent in every way that I knew.

Then I snorted in disgust as my opponent surrendered, without even putting up a token fight.




I am so disappointed in Monkey.

Just When You Thought It Was Safe...

To go off and have a life....

Let Sparky ride Monkey today, when I wasn't even around. Apparently Monkey took it into his peabrain to go rodeo for no apparent reason, and Sparky got dumped, pretty spectacularly, from all accounts.

Tomorrow, The Discussion. I didn't have time for a proper discussion today, so I'll go in tomorrow and see if he wants to pull that crap with me. If not, when Sparky heals up, he's already claimed his re-ride.

It's been a while since I've had to get Monkey to buck just to teach him that he can't do that, but if he's gonna pull crap like this, it's time to do it again. Hopefully I can catch one of the outdoor arenas empty, the trails are covered in piles of manure, and are completely useless to me.

Regardless, tomorrow I'll either be disappointed in Monkey.............

or we'll go rodeo and have a discussion.

Sitting at the Old Homestead...

Mamaw's birthday was yesterday, so I made the pilgrimage to the old homestead for her birthday dinner, and stayed the night, since I don't have class until eleven today and didn't particularly feel like driving home last night.

The kittens are mobile and making themselves known, they're starting to climb things and they're really getting into the whole cuddling and cute kitty thing. I don't have my camera but if ya'll beg real pretty I bet Farmmom and Farmdad would get some pics and send them to me so I can share the cuteness.

Hands are doing better... a little bit sore and stiff yet, and the actual owwies are... well... owwie.

On the bright side my foal is doing well now... he (I was mistaken, its a he, solid sorrel) was one of the best on the walk to the barn, and went in his stall without too much fight. He's also letting me pick up all four feet and tug on his tail. One downside to my newly easy foal is that he is noisy! He likes to whinny at all the others... especially when his head is right by my ear. Of course, he's so comfortable with me now that he just gives me the stink eye when I put my hand over his nostrils to make it slightly less noisy. He's also decided that his mouth is the proper vehicle for exploring his new friend, namely me. He's been sniffing and lipping at me a bit, but he's started to learn that biting isn't allowed now. He grabbed at my arm and got his nose smacked, so he moved on to trying to take the lead rope away from me.

I was rubbing on him, just petting and desensitizing him, and had the lead over my arm, when suddenly, the lead started going away, but the horse wasn't moving. I figured he was just turning his head, until it happened again. I looked over to see him with the lead held carefully in his mouth and an only slightly belated innocent expression in his eyes. Uh huh.

Later I had thrown the lead over his back and was leading him along with the slack (it's a ten foot lead, there's plenty) but the end of the lead was bumping his side, and he didn't like that. So, he reached back and grabbed the end of the lead and tugged, then let it go and continued following me, docile as could be. He'd pulled it just enough that the end swung down past his belly, rather than swinging against his side.

I just hope I can keep my bluff in on him, he's smart enough to figure it out when I don't want him to, if I screw up. But, he's better behaved now than some of them that were the best on the first day, now. Marilyn told me "You just had to convince him you were like a virus... you aren't going to give up and go away!"

Haven't I been proving my stubbornness all semester?

Wow

When Curad says their bandaids are extreme hold, they mean it!

I like these things!