English rants, continued.
I really do not find the point in tragedy. Tragedy for tragedy's sake just makes everybody feel bad. No discernible good comes out of it. That more than anything is why I prefer clair and satire, because while I believe that quite a lot of the world is crap, that does not change the fact that I find no point in dwelling on it. Shit happens right? Which is hilarious, because I myself am one of the most melodramatic people in the world. I have personal tragedies every day; I find I can't handle caring about others as well, especially if they are fictional. Secretly, I want books to tell me straightforwardly, “Be a better person, damn it,” and am disappointed when instead it comes out, “Oh whelps, they couldn't change, maybe you can't change either.”
Perhaps the saying “the way to a man's heart is through his stomach" is only partially correct. A sucker punch only goes so far. Perhaps the way to a man's mind is through laughter, and the way to his arms is through rational argument. Humor is a purely cerebral activity, after all. And sane people don't start wars because the other side made them angry, they do it because reason tells them there is no other way that makes moral or rational sense.
And here I'm going to partially contradict myself and say that I really enjoyed Oedipus because Sophocles got it. Even though Oedipus blinds himself for it, even though it's never overtly stated, he understood eventually the marks of his own folly, understood what all of his pride and his false sense of justice got him. He figured it out and he took steps to make up for it, so that he could live with himself. I can respect that. It didn't hurt that it really wasn't all his fault. That somewhere along the way there were these stupid gods who didn't like his dad and created Oedipus merely to be this instrument for their wrath. And I mean, WTF Grecian culture, to come up with that kind of story and I have a feeling that somewhere in Sophocles' head he was thinking the same thing. But really, it's all right. This is the kind of tragedy I can get behind, where something good comes out of it. Shakespeare sort of got it, too. Romeo and Juliet ending the feud, you know. But I wonder, with modern tragedies like TSatF, if we haven't grown a little too indulgent. If, now that we understand schadenfreude, that we accept it too readily?
Once again I don't really have an ending to this rant. I'm just trying to put things in order for myself before I have to go and face this class yet again, where though I feel challenged and excel easily and happily with effort, there is this wall of understanding that I can't cross, that no matter how much I appreciate that he is a good teacher, Fern is simply not as big a person as I am, or something. Which rather freaks me out, if it comes to it. Since when have I ever been this pretentious?
Perhaps the saying “the way to a man's heart is through his stomach" is only partially correct. A sucker punch only goes so far. Perhaps the way to a man's mind is through laughter, and the way to his arms is through rational argument. Humor is a purely cerebral activity, after all. And sane people don't start wars because the other side made them angry, they do it because reason tells them there is no other way that makes moral or rational sense.
And here I'm going to partially contradict myself and say that I really enjoyed Oedipus because Sophocles got it. Even though Oedipus blinds himself for it, even though it's never overtly stated, he understood eventually the marks of his own folly, understood what all of his pride and his false sense of justice got him. He figured it out and he took steps to make up for it, so that he could live with himself. I can respect that. It didn't hurt that it really wasn't all his fault. That somewhere along the way there were these stupid gods who didn't like his dad and created Oedipus merely to be this instrument for their wrath. And I mean, WTF Grecian culture, to come up with that kind of story and I have a feeling that somewhere in Sophocles' head he was thinking the same thing. But really, it's all right. This is the kind of tragedy I can get behind, where something good comes out of it. Shakespeare sort of got it, too. Romeo and Juliet ending the feud, you know. But I wonder, with modern tragedies like TSatF, if we haven't grown a little too indulgent. If, now that we understand schadenfreude, that we accept it too readily?
Once again I don't really have an ending to this rant. I'm just trying to put things in order for myself before I have to go and face this class yet again, where though I feel challenged and excel easily and happily with effort, there is this wall of understanding that I can't cross, that no matter how much I appreciate that he is a good teacher, Fern is simply not as big a person as I am, or something. Which rather freaks me out, if it comes to it. Since when have I ever been this pretentious?