Introducing . . . dinosaur paragraphs!

"Lenina liked the drums" (Brave New World, 111).

When Lenina first experienced Malpais, she acted sort of like I do when I'm outside for too long. She didn't like how things smelled, and she kept saying, "I don't like it. I don't like it" (109). The diction around that part set a very repulsive scene -- "dirt," "rubbish," "terrible," "awful," and "revoltingly viviparous," to name a few examples.

But then, the quote at the top of my post happened. Since the drums were mentioned so many times, I feel like they have to be a symbol for something. I'm not totally sure, but I think the drums symbolize the connection between the civilized people and the Indians. Lenina didn't find the drums queer, and they reminded her of the Solidarity Services (gahh, weird part). Both societies use drums in their, erm, unique rituals.

Since I've got seven sentences left to work with, I'm going to complain about the style of this chapter. One paragraph lasted from 113 to 116, and another one lasted from 119 to 122. Paragraphs that last three pages are not cool! The first one was about the sacrifice ritual, and the second one was about Linda's hysteria. I understand that the sentences that are in these two paragraphs go together, but seriously, why not indent something here and there? I generally think too much when I read causing me to read slower, and dinosaur paragraphs do not help. That's a new literary term, by the way -- dinosaur paragraph: an unnecessarily lengthy paragraph that contributes to the writer's point by causing the reader to throw the book at the wall.

Herzlich Willkommen!

"'Very well, then,' said Bernard; and it was almost a threat" (Brave New World, 100).

Bernard got into this "almost" zone in chapter six, and it . . . confused me. Why would Bernard threaten Lenina with the Reservation? More simply, why is he even going out with her? Maybe he's just using her to learn more about hypnopaedia, to get to the Reservation to observe the savages, or to conform. Or maybe I missed his motivation earlier in the book. By the way, I think the whole Reservation savages thing is a critique of the way we treat Native Americans in the United States. Definitely the crappiest legacy of Andrew Jackson.

Also, when he was talking to the Director, he spoke "almost enviously" (97) when the Director was describing how his date got lost in New Mexico. Is he envious because he longs for "some great trial, some pain, some persecution" (104), or does he just think it would be fun to lose Lenina in the Reservation? Seriously, I'd greatly appreciate it if somebody told me why Bernard is going out with her.

One of the little sayings that Lenina recited, "Never put off till to-morrow the fun you can have today" (93), reminded me of a song Frau Price put on her blog. It's called "Schöne Neue Welt" -- yet another song called "Brave New World." Basically, it's a social critique: when we live impulsively, we destroy the world. Isn't that nice?

We're different, different as can be!

"'Damn, I'm late,' Bernard said to himself as he first caught sight of Big Henry, the Singery clock" (Brave New World, 78).

I was wary of saying this in my last post, but now that I've read chapter five, I'm more confident about it. (Deep breath.) It seems to me that Bernard Marx and Henry Foster are foil characters.

Already, I've placed them into two different mental groups -- Bernard is an outsider with an unconventional thought process while Henry is stuck with his hypnopaedic views. The way they act also plays along with this; Bernard is really awkward and Henry is a hit with the ladies. Now I also know that, unlike the extremely punctual Henry, Bernard was late to his Solidarity Service. (I'm not even going to talk about how creepy that whole part was.)

Just now, I'm piecing together possible implications of their names. "Henry Foster," I noticed from his first appearance, is remarkably close to "Henry Ford." Ford was as American, consumeristic, and free markety as anyone can get. Bernard Marx shares his last name with Karl Marx, who made huge contributions to the ideas of socialism and communism. So even their names are strongly contrasted with one another.

The sharp differences between Henry and Bernard really highlight their distinct personalities. Umm, and they make me like Bernard more than I like Henry.

Huxley is going to get less wordy.

"'Isn't it beautiful!' His voice trembled a little.

"She smiled at him with an expression of the most sympathetic understanding. 'Simply perfect for Obstacle Golf,' she answered rapturously" (Brave New World, 59).

All of the math in that picture is wrong because there are eighteen chapters -- not nineteen -- but you get the spirit of it.

Most of the characters in Brave New World are indirectly characterized, and their appearances and speech reveal who they are. The only exception so far is Benito Hoover who is characterized directly as "notoriously good-natured" (60), probably because he's minor.

I think there are two groups we can assign to these characters.

One group would contain people with "a mental excess" (67) like Bernard Marx and Helmholtz Watson. According to Huxley, these two share the "knowledge that they are individuals" -- they're outsiders. For this reason, I think that they're going to be dynamic in moving the plot forward.

The other group would contain everyone else -- the Director, the students, Henry Foster, Lenina, Fanny, and Benito. These people conform to the customs of their world because they have no other choice. Hypnopaedia gives the vast majority of characters ideas and prejudices they cannot escape on their own. Maybe the people in Group One will help them out, but I don't think these characters can make an interesting story on their own.

The quote I chose for this post shows the fascinating and almost comical boundary between these two groups. As Bernard finds true beauty in the sky, Lenina "understands" him and agrees that it's good weather to play golf. I think this is dramatic irony because Lenina thinks she's sympathizing with Bernard when the reader knows that the kinds of beauty the two characters see are completely different.

What kind of name is "Aldous"?

"'Going to the Feelies this evening, Henry?'" (Brave New World, 35).

Admittedly, as the point of view got really choppy and annoying at the end of chapter three, I wasn't very interested in Henry Foster's story as much as I was with what the Controller was saying. BUT there were a ton of cool allusions that I liked.

The quote up there is a reference to the "Talkies" of the Roaring Twenties -- movies with sound. I suppose they're "Feelies" in this book to make the world seem more advanced and (I don't think this is too far fetched) sexually free. Before that, the Director sat on a bench made of "steel and rubber" (33), two industries that thrived in that decade because of Ford's automobile. Then, near the end of the chapter, there was a huge focus on consumerism ("'I do love having new clothes'"), which was a defining aspect of the 1920s. All of this really makes sense with the idolization of Ford -- and the "Ford" thing really keeps getting more and more over-the-top.

I have one more quick reference that I enjoyed: "Our Ford -- or Our Freud, as, for some inscrutable reason, he chose to call himself whenever he spoke of psychological matters . . ." (39). The reason was inscrutable to the notebook students because they don't know anything about history, but luckily, I can tell you that Freud (who was influential during the 1920s -- go figure), was a psychologist who studied sexuality and impulse.

Fast forward to abooouuut . . . 2:05. It's number 23.

Also, if anyone was curious, "Aldous" is actually a legitimate name that comes from the German word for "old."

This post is brought to you by the letter "A."

"A love of nature keeps no factories busy" (Brave New World, 23).

Aphorisms make brief and clever observations about generally accepted truths, and the society in Brave New World has an entirely different set of aphorisms than we do. Looking at the maxims of a culture is a good way to find out what that culture values. In this case, the aphorism reveals the high value this futuristic world places upon systematic work.

Additionally, it sharply contrasts with the general value that our society places upon appreciation and awe of the world. I'm not the guy who's going to venture to Colorado to feast his eyes on nature's bounty, but obviously, that kind of thing is socially acceptable for us. I do think that there are many things radically more important than keeping factories busy -- creativity is the most stunning part of human consciousness.

And I'm pretty sure that these people are basing their calendar on the life of . . . "Our Ford." Yeah, that's weird to think about.

Amazingly, all of my paragraphs start with the letter A. It wasn't even intentional the first four times!

I shall begin at the beginning.

"'Embryos are like photograph film,' said Mr. Foster waggishly, as he pushed open the second door. 'They can only stand red light'" (Brave New World, 11).

For my summer reading, I'm going to start with Aldous Huxley's Brave New World . . . in your pants.

Yes, it is four in the morning.

The first chapter is impressively quotable, but I think I found one excerpt that successfully encapsulates the predominating idea of the chapter. Obviously, the well-informed Mr. Foster presented us with a simile when he compared the racks of human embryos to photograph film.

What Mr. Foster said here piled onto a goldmine of dehumanizing language in this chapter. The Director's generalization speech -- complete with "incubators," "optimum temperatures," and "ripened eggs" -- did an exceptional job of reminding me of the baby chicks we hatched in third grade. However, to me, the blatant comparison of the embryos to lifeless photograph film was the most effective rhetorical technique Huxley used to portray the, uh, process as systematic and tasteless.

Furthermore, behind the dehumanizing process was a backdrop of passiveness. As Mr. Foster made the film comparison, he said it "waggishly," as if it were a quaint joke. So in the year A.F. (after . . . ffff . . .) 632, multiplication and predestination of embryos is totally normal.

Which brings me to what I think the main idea of this exposition was -- to set the reader in an era in which radically unfamiliar treatment of embryos and children and who knows what else is culturally acceptable. Mayyybe? Also, I'm pretty sure we're not supposed to envy this speculative world, but I'm guessing that its flaws are going to manifest themselves later on.