circus morph

Siberia seems more and more like a dream. Literally, sometimes I get confused as if Carter precisely manipulated the shifts in reality like space, time and relationships to get the perfect product of a prolonged dream experience. 

To be honest, “The Spectacle of Her Gluttony” helped me connect this literature to the shadowing themes of feminism, patriarchy, gender roles and how they influence class and economy. Only slightly aware of this theme before reading Nights at the Circus, I failed to recognize how Fevver’s mystical performance, physique, and personality satirized the Woman. Carter’s creation reveals ludicrous elements that makes the reader imagine as if it were indeed reality. The mental process proves difficult however, it feels like trying to fit a square peg through a wooden circular opening. 

Aside from the obvious tones of feminism, it also seems pretty apparent that Carter tries to illuminate the significance of personal liberty. Many characters seems to be prisoners in unique ways. The blatantly imprisoned, such as Countess P.’s inmates and the escapee’s desire to return home, offer easy examples to physical restrictions of the human body. Though Walser and Fevvers illustrate, throughout the novel, the strenuous process of freeing one’s mind from prior conditioning. Walser goes from being a skeptical journalist to a head-injury victim who seeks only to reveal the happiness which beams from his hidden memory of Fevvers. Fevvers, on the other hand, transforms from a self-absorbed and materialistic diva who favors diamonds and spotlights to a normal person curious for the tingling sensation of finding an intimate companion. 

gaze the haze

Carter’s fantastical world isn’t too far from the unreal. Such obvious moments occur, for example, when Walser explores and (exposes) the lower-class section of St. Petersburg:

“Of the most beautiful of cities, Walser, as it turns out, has, in reality, seen only the beastly backside -- a yellow light in a chemist’s window; two noseless women under a streetlamp; a drunk rolled under a doorway in a pool of vomit… In a scummed canal, ice in the pelt of the dead dog floating there.” pg. 104

Carter also uses such imaginative and unreal language to explore common themes seen in an uncommon fashion. For instance, Wasler’s confrontation with the Professor monkey alludes to the half-witted persons we encounter. Dressed intelligently and under the belief that they are indeed intelligent, many ignorant and egoistic people often, unfortunately, hold high positions of authority that govern a given body of individuals. Faced with embarrassment and feeling prideful, the monkey professor shares a profound moment with Wasler: 

“Their eyes met. Walser never forgot this first, intimate exchange with one of these beings whose life ran parallel to his, this inhabitant of the magic circle of difference, unreachable… but not unknowable; this exchange with the speaking eyes of the dumb.” pg. 108

True, stupidity is always close and fairly knowable. That’s a funny paradox Carter brings to life: knowable stupidity.  ot summaries. Think of a possible theme and bring in two copies on Wednesday.

Money 5 (final)

John Self is the "inhuman dog" (347). Or at least, this is how most characters in Money see him. Shadow, Martina’s dog, represents John’s double or shadow. John confesses that he, if were an animal, would be a dog. But John knows there is a better life outside of all his addictions although is ultimately confined to his “nature”(268). The author makes present this factor of a person’s nature, some sort of essence of a being that we are all inherently bounded to by some unknown force (in this case John Self is under the will of Martin Amis). Even after changing by quitting his drinking, smoking, pornography, and any other activity linked to money, John expresses that he feels prosthetic, like a robot, android, cyborg, and skinjob (304). Trying to pry himself away from his self-destructive tendencies, John, like Shadow, yearns to return to his true nature, despite the risks of losing everything he’d ever desire (the “good life”: Martina, money, and even intelligence). The author alludes to this as John, during his “metamorphosis,” catches the runaway Shadow gazing into the dirty and grungy life he had on 23^rd Street before Martina took him in as her own (312). In retrospect, John contemplates

“Maybe money is the great conspiracy, the great fiction. The great addiction too: we’re all addicted and we can’t break the habit now. There’s not even anything very twentieth century about it, except the disposition. You just can’t kick it, that junk, even if you want to. You can’t get the money monkey off your back.” (354)

If we being to think of John in terms of an actor, it would be fitting to think of him as someone unable to break character. Forever self-indulging, John Self is willing to risk the “good life,” the life he’s always dreamed of and speaks of, because he just can’t “kick” his old habits with money. Indeed, in the wide stages of the world, John is just "one of life's actors" (267).

Money 4

Edmondson discusses John Self as Amis’ well created “Postmodern Man.” His definition of the postmodern prose, which Amis “mastered,” is to have multiple layers of fiction and “a deluded narrator imbedded somewhere in the middle” (1). This interpretation serves as a clear introspection into the world of Money. Due to John Self’s alienation from the rest of the world -- his narrow-minded, damaged, and stupid character -- he is “removed from any sense of humanity” (4). By inserting himself into the narrative, Amis reveals the clue that Self’s reality isn’t the most appropriate to understand the world he lives in. That is, Amis reveals to the readers, with subtle clues, that there are many things which are not what John says there are. For instance, John proclaims “I’m in hell somehow, and yet why is it hell? Covered by heaven, with its girls and deceptions and mad-acts, what is the meaning of this white tent” (206)? It is obvious that John isn’t in hell, but it isn’t obvious to John that he is the creator of his own hellish life. Perhaps that wasn’t the best example. However, it is clear through many passages that what John says or thinks isn’t actually true. Edmondson explains, “the contradiction forces the reader into the awkward position of wondering exacelty where Martin Amis is in all this, who is telling what, and what degree of truth is present in what is being related” (2). Although Edmondson is describing Amis’ novel The Rachel Papers here, this concept still remains imbedded into the framework of Money. We, the readers, read on well aware of the various levels of truths, realities, and dimensions of John Self’s world as he travels through time. This idea of time traveling I’ll save for the final post on Money.