Al-Shaykh: Breaking with Tradition

In her work, "The Swimming Pool," Hanan Al-Shaykh uses settings as well as natural images to compare the tension between custom and contemporary life, as seen through the adolescent narrator's eyes. Images of her home village are claustrophobic, such as the first scene of her "in the tent for threading the tobacco, amidst the mounds of tobacco plants and the skewers. Cross-legged, [...she] breathe[s] in the green odor, threading one leaf after another" (Al-Shaykh 1728). The physical confinement of a tent is both narrow and bland, given the impression of a tent as tan fabric without adornment. Coupled with the amount of tobacco products and the odor, the senses close in without reprieve or variation. Even the speaker's physical position of sitting cross-legged seems compressed and tight. The reader cannot blame her for leaving the tent to get a drink of water, but even as she excuses herself and claims to be thirsty, there is also the sense of desiring to escape. She admits "I am exasperated at being in the tent" (Al-Shaykh 1728). However, the relief of the water is short-lived, for she is called back to the tent. Throughout the story, it is the idea of going to the sea and swimming that drives the action. Due to tradition, the speaker is not allowed to swim in a co-ed place, and so hearing about a women's-only swimming pool provides opportunity to escape her village and experience more of the world, as well as enjoy the refreshment of swimming in hot weather. The sea is elusive and remote from the speaker,  In a reproduction of the sea she contemplates its beauty, explaining "the more I gazed at it, the cooler I felt its waters to be, and the more they invited me to bathe in them; they knew I had been born amidst dust and mud and the stench of tobacco" (Al-Shaykh 1729). Given the depiction of living with mud and dust, the speaker is tied to the earth. Water, however, possesses opportunity for travel and transformation. The sea, especially, is active with its tides and represents the potential to travel and escape. Ironically, however, the speaker realizes that as much as she wants to distance herself from her roots, they are a part of her. Similar to the water, it is difficult to separate the waves from their source. Rather than escaping, the speaker's journey to find the sea is more an experience of illumination. Seeing her lifestyle from the perspective of others provides the proof that alternate ways of thinking and living are equally possible.

Death

Paul Celan created poems that showcase the tension between impending death and possibly martyrdom both during and after the Holocaust. “Deathfugue” and “Aspen Tree” have contrasting images of dark and light, adding to the juxtaposed sense of hope and loss. Though the world continues on through his writing, the poems convey the sense that though the Holocaust may be over, its imprint of death and loss has tainted the world.

            Throughout “Deathfugue” there is a refrain, like the musical and dance prisoners were forced to perform. The speaker states “Black milk of daybreak we drink you at night/ we drink you at morning and midday we drink you at evening/ we drink and we drink” (Celan lns. 10-12). In the ongoing endurance there is a sense of martyrdom of the prisoners who are aware of their plight and still continue on, morning, noon and night. Rather than uprise, there is a compliance and docility but still an awareness of the situation that keeps the prisoners from being sheep. By enduring amidst the omnipresence of death but understanding how likely eventual demise is, the juncture of death and martyrdom is constantly present. With increasing risk the speaker continues the refrain, until “he shoots you with shot made of lead shoots you level and true” (Celan 29). Though this means death it is also release; instead of drinking in the black milk the speaker becomes ash and is free.

            A similar fate is found in “Aspen Tree,” but instead of black milk the speaker notes “Aspen tree, your leaves glance white in the dark./ My mother’s hair never turned white” (Celan 1-2). White is symbolic of peace and old age, such as in the wood of an ancient tree; the speaker’s mother is removed from such a fate. In each stanza, there is a natural element, be it “dandelion” or “rain cloud,” but the mother is consistently removed from the natural world, suggesting her death; the final confirmation is that “my gentle mother cannot return” (Celan 10). Constantly contrasted with the images of nature and vitality, the mother is connected with death. Though she was “gentle” and “fair,” this could not save her from death. While the poem is not graphic and possesses a simplicity that is child-like, this makes the death all the more unbearable. The Holocaust made numerous martyrs, but the status of martyrdom is not a comfort—it does not assuage the loss.

            Retrospectively, martyrdom is applied perhaps as a way to give meaning and dignity to an unnecessary death. For Celan, it does not mitigate the loss. While death offers a sort of peace, unjust death still grates. Sadly, amidst the horrors of the Holocaust, death was arguably kinder than enduring the concentration camps—such is the power of man to make life unbearable.

Neruda

In his poem “Walking Around,” Pablo Neruda expresses both a disdain for life and the conflicting desire to still exist. He contrasts images of death with a continual sense of motion and moving around, even emphasized in the name of the poem, which matches the sense that although one may grow tired of life, it continues on. Although man may recognize and despise the difficulties of life, he carries on with alternating hope and disillusionment.

            Neruda’s speaker confides “I am tired of being a man,” following his statement with regular places people travel to: “tailor’s shops and the movies […] barber shops” (lns. 1-2, 5). Though the locations are normal, it is perhaps the routine nature that is inescapable and tiresome. This goes a step further with the speaker’s saying he is “tired of […his] feet and […] nails/ and […] hair and […] shadow” (9-10). The sense of disillusionment moves beyond the world around and comes back to the individual himself, as no longer wants to be associated with parts of himself. There are then juxtapositions that contradict the presumed status quo, which are the first images to interest or excite the speaker. He would feel pleasure “to scare a notary with a cut lily/ or knock a nun stone dead with one blow of an ear” (13-14). While the speaker is not happy with his reality, the idea of breaking with convention is diverting. The notary, someone associated with drudgery, contrasts with the image of the lily, but that it is a “cut lily” adds more danger to the description. Subsequently, blowing on a nun’s ear contradicts the vows of chastity and purity, evoking a sense of the physical pleasures of life. In these contemplations is the reader shown reasons that people continue on—love, pleasure, excitement. However, these images are also illusions. If they occurred, views of the world would be unstable and inaccurate. Despite the distracting illusions, the poem concludes with images of “courtyards hung with clothes on wires/ underpants, towels, and shirts which weep/ slow dirty tears” (43-45). The reality of the world is bleak and unromantic, which is sad—this is the perception of the city. Though there is potential, it remains unfulfilled, and so there is a sense of failure or lack of fruition.

            Daily life remains a grind, tedious and onerous in the rhythm of the city. Though full of life, it is not idyllic or pleasant. While “Walking Around,” the speaker is not in a pasture or garden, but in the thick of life. It is predictable and poor, leading to an even more dismal end of decay and rot.

Gender

          Joaquim Maria Machado de Assis’s work “The Rod of Justice” possesses an ironic title. The concept of justice in this story is skewed, largely because of the power tension between genders. Sinha Rita is seen as formidable and desirable; for this reason the defunct seminary student, Damiao, seeks her out when he runs away from his school. Though he perceives her as his salvation, he also struggles with her slavery practice, especially that a little girl might be beaten for laughing on his account. However, Damiao does not plead with Sinha Rita to spare the rod. Originally the reader understands Damiao “was sorry for the little balck girl, and resolved to protect her if she did not finish her task” (de Assist 913). This changes when his personal interests are jeopardized by intervening on the little girl’s behalf. Initially his role as man leads him to expect his superiority and ability to curb Sinha Rita’s anger and protect the child; however, he sees her temper and resolve to be unwavering in her interaction with his godfather. Rather than risk her malice, he allows his ideals to be subordinate to personal interest.

            Sinha Rita possesses a hold over men that is similar to the stereotypical draw of a beautiful woman, that she may manipulate men or hold over them the threat of losing the pleasure of her company and good graces. Coupled with this appeal is a tenacity which does not brook arguments or disobedience. While this very strength is what Damiao seeks when trying to avoid his father’s wrath, he encounters a similar violence in Sinha Rita; in this case, it is acted out on a slave rather than on himself. As a man, Damiao is typically the party in power, but his weakness of character shows in the fear of both his father and not standing up to Sinha Rita. After Damiao’s defection is known to the father, a letter is delivered explaining “the father was furious and wanted to smash things. He had shouted ‘no sir,’ the young dandy would go to the seminary, or he would have him locked up” (de Assis 915). Damiao might be seen to modern readers as an independent thinker, one following his personal goals rather than obligation; the father’s perception is that his son is failing to fulfill his duty and would rather be unproductive. The two poles represent an over-vigorous male character and a decidedly weak one, who hides behind the protection of someone. Sinha Rita is not a character much more flattering, because she is hardened in the control of slaves and orders everyone around in a similar manner.

            Despite gender, characters in the story are consistently out of balance—some being too weak, others to violent or inflexible. Sinha Rita represents the potential to help others but also the tendency to abuse that power; Damiao’s character is indicative of those who buy into that person of power’s role, supporting them for selfish reasons while certain actions may conflict with individual morals. Indulgence of either character type is dangerous, whether male or female.

Martí and Darío

                In comparing the work of Walt Whitman and Ruben Dario, there is a surface difference, given the demographics of the writers. However, both choose to write poems in which the speakers make a declaration of identity. For Whitman, he names himself as the speaker and lists all of the pleasures he enjoys as the citizen of America’s democracy. Dario acknowledges the power of the United States of America, but also asserts the depth of his own part of America, further south. Thought each poet asserts his identity within a different geography, both come back to a sense of power and pride in that lifestyle.

                In Walt Whitman’s “Song of Myself,” specifically part 24, he begins with ownership of the poem and his physical existence, writing “Walt Whitman, a kosmos, of Manhattan the son,/ Turbulent, fleshy, sensual, eating, drinking, and breeding” (lns. 1-2). The assertion of himself through the poem and ownership of sensuality indicate a freedom that is part of an ideal democracy. Whitman then equivocates “Whoever degrades another degrades me,/ And whatever is done or said returns at last to me./ […] I give the sign of democracy,/ By God!  I will accept nothing which all cannot have their counterpart of/ on the same terms” (7-8, 10-12). The sense of connection and ownership relate back to the fact that by nature and all being human, we are connected. Though Whitman himself may enjoy liberties, as a member of the human race, denigration of others is a direct affront to all. Whitman even invokes the name of God, which is a cultural belief across groups. While the idea may be signified by another name or possess a slightly different significance, this is another element that connects Whitman and Dario.

                Ruben Dario’s work “No.” begins with affirmation of the United States’ “grand and powerful” status, one so influential that “Whenever it trembles, a profound shudder/ runs down the enormous backbone of the Andes” (1-3). On a surface level, the U.S. appears to be an indomitable force, but then the idea of the Andes being a backbone suggests the power and subtle strength of South America. While the two are connected and what happens in the U.S. may carry over into the connected lands, there is still a power and durability, like a backbone. Dario goes on to compare that the two cultures are different but still equally powerful; while America was endowed with stars, South America has older jewels of tradition. The speaker then issues a warning: “Be careful./ Long live Spanish America!/ A thousand cubs of the Spanish lions are roaming free./ Roosevelt, you must become, by God’s own will,/ the deadly Rifleman and the dreadful Hunter/ Before you catch us in your iron claws” (44-5). There is a sense of pride and vigor similar to Whitman’s declaration, as well as the understanding that this culture will not cede to the will of others easily. Though Dario says that Roosevelt must become a hunter because God wills it, he then concludes of America: “you are lacking on thing: God!” (51). It is then seemingly ironic when Dario cites the will of God for United States intervention—it appears that human will is justified falsely to God.

                Both Whitman and Dario speak of the beauty of their lifestyles, but criticize the imposition of other will or lack of freedom. For Whitman, this is empathized toward others in that situation; for Dario, it is a personal lack of freedom. However, Dario is not a victim, his culture is not weak or easily defeated; while the United States is powerful, there is a community of strength and a history of endurance that suggests his culture will endure. And that would please Whitman, who suggests a displeasure for any man forced to be without freedom and liberty.