When reading this novel one of the first things that really stuck me was the blatant integration of gender roles into the Igbo culture. Whether it’s the crops specific to each gender (coco-yams, beans and cassava vs. yams), or even the characterization of varying crimes, essentially all aspects of daily life are gendered. Additionally, sexist stereotypes and ideals of hyper-masculinity are heavily emphasized and ingrained into the culture. Okonokwo spends a majority of his time attempting to rise above his father’s legacy and his perceived “weak” image, by overcompensating and acting out in increasingly violent manners. Although Okonokwo does go on a seven-year exile in order to get in touch with his feminine side, this journey proves to be futile after it only reinforces his idea that men are stronger than women. Ignoring the inevitable harm that sexist stereotypes cause, Okonowo’s biggest fault exists in his inability to seen the value in feminine characteristics such as peace and the valuing of family. Okonowo’s various struggles and eventual downfall reveal not only the harm in gender stereotypes and gender role assignments, but also demonstrate the need for a balance within the culture between “masculine” and “feminine” qualities.
March 2015
The Mill on the Floss”
One thing that really struck me about The Mill on the Floss was Eliot’s unique and elegant writing style. As mentioned yesterday in lecture, Eliot’s narrator has many different voices, but for me that’s not what really grabbed my attention. Instead, I found myself getting caught up in her vivid descriptions and sensory detail. For example, I found her description of the winter/Christmas scene in ch. 2, book 2 particularly captivating.
“Snow lay on the croft and river-bank in undulations softer than the limbs of infancy; it lay with the neatliest finished border on every sloping roof, making the dark-re gables stand out with a new depth of colour; it weighed heavily on the laurels and fir-trees, till it fell from them with a shuddering sound; it clothed the rough turnip-field.”
The scene, although simple, has a romantic quality that gives me feelings of nostalgia for a place I’ve never been. Even after Eliot shifts away from the romantic imagery to a darker images, she’s still able to maintain her stylistically soothing tone.
“The gates were all blocked up with the sloping drifts, and here and there a disregarded four-footed beast stood as if petrified […] the heavens too were one still pale cloud – no sound or motion in anything but the dark river, that flowed and moaned like an unresting sorrow.
On a bit of a tangent, another thing I noticed about Eliot’s writing is that she writes/uses really long sentences, yet somehow I don’t find myself becoming overwhelmed or losing track of what she’s saying.