Geoff Tam's Blog

Last term in ASTU, we explored the concepts of “master” and “counter narratives” to better understand the abstract and hidden values behind an author or character. While a “master narrative” is loud and portrays a story’s superficial message, a “counter narrative” is rather inconspicuous and contrasts with the main narrative. Disgrace is a Nobel Prize winning novel, written by J.M. Coetzee, that follows a self-centered man, David Lurie, who lets his sexual drive overtake his behaviours that spiral his life down into numerous complications. From legal issues and unemployment to a degrading relationship with his self-sustaining daughter, Lucy, David subconsciously struggles with discovering his true self. While much of the novel’s master narrative depicts black South Africans as antagonistic, there are many components of the story that unveil their counter narrative.

This 1999 novel takes place during the post-apartheid era in South Africa when the nation works together to recover from the massacres and racial segregation of the previous four and a half decades. However, Disgrace’s counter narrative makes it evident that racial conflict is nevertheless a phenomenon during this era, as exemplified by the scene of sexual assault against Lucy at her Salem farm. In this incident, three black intruders attack David, Lucy, and their dogs. As the motives behind their invasion are considerably ambiguous, they are left for the audience to interpret. Are the intruders affiliated with Soraya? Are they acting against the white family in the post-apartheid era? Their narrative ultimately goes against the idea that the people of South Africa are competently reconciling and healing from their past.

In terms of David’s character, he is illustrated as one who, due to the various social factors he benefits from, possesses a sense of entitlement, whether he encounters prostitutes, his students, or animals. Some animals that are prominent in Disgrace include Lucy’s dogs who eventually get shot and killed by the intruders. These dogs are important representations of social status in the Luries’ life and a metaphor for David himself. David’s self-entitlement is apparent when he expresses his impression of dogs as lesser beings. In contrast, Lucy appreciates the animals as equal creatures. David’s perception of dogs is rather ironic as he cried “shapeless bellows,” like those of a vulnerable animal, when he was lit on fire (96). As South African writer Antjie Krog would suggest, his “pain [destroyed] language and this [brought] about and immediate reversion to a prelinguistic state” (57). If David is comparable to a dog, does Coetzee imply that David and his disgraceful behaviours are no better than those of an animal? Perhaps the author aims to propose that David experiences more misery than he can even recognize. Moreover, when the dogs were shot, it’s as if a part of David’s persona was killed, too. This can be seen when David later developed to be more sensitive with his daughter and empathetic towards animals. Unfortunately for David, Lucy reveals that she would rather be independent from him when he tries to be more involved with her, cycling him back to his search for his own identity. Altogether, Coetzee addressed character development and issues around racial differences in ways that are sophisticated yet important to acknowledge especially in a time and place like South Africa in the post-apartheid age.

References

As we made our way through the second half of ASTU 100, we came across yet another graphic novel to study. This time, we explored themes of culture, racism, and trauma in the first part of Art Spiegelman’s “Maus: A Survivor’s Tale” through Artie and his father (Vladek)’s personal accounts of World War II and the Holocaust. As these experiences were primarily expressed through the Jewish perspective, they were regarded as unforgettably traumatic. With powerful descriptions and illustrations, it may be suggested that these narratives are authentic. However, to what extent may an individual modify their stories to disguise a reality or for entertainment purposes, and is it moral to do so with sensitive subjects such as historical oppression?

Cover page of “Maus: A Survivor’s Tale: My Father Bleeds History” by Art Spiegelman

In the first half of Maus, Artie began interviewing his father to gather content for a book he wants to write. Though it made for immersive flashbacks, it became evident throughout the novel that Vladek often felt uncomfortable about reliving his past. This is seen early in the book when he casually attempted to redirect Artie’s interests away from writing about their family history (Spiegelman 12). This relatively calm scene distinctly contrasts with many of Vladek’s recollections that vividly illustrate the raw and occasionally aggressive ordeals experienced during World War II and the Holocaust. While this scene is not necessarily consumed by terror or violence, it nonetheless possesses a sense of tension between Vladek and his son as he may not have wanted to reflect on the years he spent as an oppressed Jew. This is also supported when Vladek revealed later on that he burned his late wife’s diaries as they brought depressing memories to him (Spiegelman 159). As he could not completely escape from certain truths, he was able to articulate much of his past to Artie. Perhaps Vladek was motivated to do so for Artie to experience survivor’s guilt, as found in the novel’s prologue (Spiegelman 6).

Whether or not these accounts are accurate, they have undoubtedly made an impact on Artie’s life. Some element of events, including time and place, may have been misrepresented due to the storyteller’s forgetfulness or exaggeration. Such alterations to the plot may be done in various ways as the speaker can differ in a graphic novel. Firstly, the character of Vladek may be the speaker who skews his own life story in a manner that appears legitimate to him. Moreover, the speaker may be the narrator (that would mostly be Vladek in the case of Maus). Finally, the author, Art Spiegelman, has ultimate control of the story’s content. When analyzing Persepolis by Marjane Satrapi in the previous term, we also reflected on how having these varying degrees of speakers has an impact on a graphic novel. Having a fitting variety of voices not only provides a unique flow to the story but it may also assist the reader in interpreting a scene from different perspectives. Overall, it is difficult to draw the fine line that separates truths from falsehood in a memoir, especially when authors blend minute details together to evoke a broader theme. Regardless of how genuine this narrative is, reading it certainly gave me a greater appreciation my current life circumstances.

References

Spiegelman, Art. Maus: A Survivor’s Tale: My Father Bleeds History. Pantheon Books, 1992.

Throughout the late-nineteenth and early-twentieth centuries, the idea of recalling memories, particularly traumatic ones, have been neglected and treated as a chosen behaviour rather than a mental condition. American psychologist Silvan Tomkins theorized the concept of memory from a broad standpoint. He conceived memory as the action of extracting past experiences, whether they are pleasant or traumatic, and associating them with current ones or vice versa. To exemplify his approach, Tomkins associated the image of a driver becoming depressed after encountering a truck on a highway with a child’s distress at the revelation of becoming an older sibling (Sedgwick 185). He shows that like the truck and younger sibling, certain memories are out of one’s control. Moreover, those who suffered from shell-shock, known today as post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD), were perceived to lack willpower or have succumbed to cowardice, especially at a time like the post-World War I era. This was illustrated in Virginia Woolf’s Mrs. Dalloway, when Septimus Warren Smith was affected by shell-shock to the extent where he committed suicide (107). Even then, he was regarded as a coward for killing himself. Altogether, the recollection of memories and traumatic feelings have been seen as acts of one’s own conduct and have shaped the beliefs around these topics today.

In more recent times, philosophies around memory and trauma have been better articulated with the help of the internet and other forms of communication. The spreading awareness of traumatic experiences, such as racial discrimination and sexual abuse, has led to social movements towards equality for people in certain communities. PTSD has also been given more attention in mainstream media and studies. While PTSD is one form of many mental conditions, the broad spectrum of mental health has been addressed more in popular culture. For instance, Bell Canada recently launched a campaign to raise money for communities and encourage people to talk about their mental health. While much has evolved around the subject of trauma and mental health, many modern aspects of memory appear to remain comparable with Tomkins’ principles. While it is still accepted that one’s interpretations of present experiences are correlated with previous ones, it is also generally agreed upon that the realm of knowledge which one is unaware of grows along with new wisdom. Overall, the portrayal of different forms of memory have undoubtedly changed for the better in the past century.

References

Bell Let’s Talk, letstalk.bell.ca/en/.

Sedgwick, Eve K., Adam Frank, and Irving E. Alexander. Shame and its Sisters: A Silvan
          Tomkins Reader. Duke University Press, Durham, 1995.

Woolf, Virginia. Mrs. Dalloway. Harcourt, Brace and company, New York, 1925.

In today’s media, “fake news” is propagated for an audience to conform to an author’s biased interests. These interests may illustrate people, places, or events from a particular viewpoint, one that is often negative and misleading. A historical example of such propaganda would be Adolf Hitler taking advantage of his charisma to convince the people of Nazi Germany that they were of the master race and that Jews should be abolished. In the modern day, varying forms of media, such as books, do the same thing to different degrees. For instance, Mohsin Hamid’s The Reluctant Fundamentalist revolves around a Pakistani man, Changez, who narrates his life as a young adult struggling with a new love and occupation in America. Throughout the novel, Changez’s character appears to shift from one that proudly embodied the American identity to one that seemingly resented the former. With that, he occasionally depicted America from a negative standpoint. It is evident that some of Changez’s anti-American beliefs are biased as he was part of a visible minority living in a nation that was recently terrorized by people who appear to be of similar descent. Changez’s development demonstrates that things may be viewed differently depending on the way in which they are defined by their “master narratives.”

Master narratives may construct prejudices around topics for better or for worse. One of the concepts that The Reluctant Fundamentalist’s master narrative embodies is the notion of “us vs. them,” as Tessa points out. Underwood Samson, the company which Changez works for, is a key symbol of this concept as they implicitly operate on the upper-class and capitalist thought that if they do not prosper as a company, others will. While working at this company, Changez gains a personal sense of “us vs. them” when he faces discrimination for having dark skin and a beard, the socially derived attributes of a terrorist. From then on, his perspective of America subtly takes a negative turn. For example, he begins to critique the United States for being a nation that is susceptible to a “dangerous nostalgia,” presenting him with a greater sense that he is a foreigner (p. 115). Through the interpretation that America is subject to both social and physical vulnerabilities—a physical vulnerability being something like the 9/11 attacks on the World Trade Centers in 2001—some of the country’s imperfections feed into the societal belief that America is often in the position of a victim. As Suvi suggests, events in the United States seem to receive excessive attention that they may not always deserve. This generates a paradox as a manifestation of Hamid’s novel is to add more attention to the existing scrutiny that the United States faces, precisely by highlighting some of its vulnerabilities through the outlook of a foreigner.

When stories are recounted, it may be easy for the narrator to alter a message based on their interpretations. However, it may be even easier for their audience to understand the story from an inaccurate perspective, especially if the storyteller intentionally modifies the meaning behind their words. For instance, how truthful were the 9/11 news reports that Changez and his colleagues witnessed while working in Manila? May Hamid have written his novel with a bias that favours Pakistani culture and traditions? As Aleksei identifies, “…these conservative and paranoid viewpoints are represented so much more loudly than others that they are very easy for a common, uninformed person to adopt.” I, for one, am an example of the “uninformed person” as I grew up indoctrinated with beliefs that favoured certain groups of people over others. In recent years, I have matured from those assumptions, allowing myself to recognize and challenge my own reasoning from broader perspectives. However, there are undeniably individuals who have not yet grown out of such close-mindedness, such as the gentleman who harassed Changez in a parking lot (p. 117). This ultimately begs the question of whether or not people will ever move on from divided societies and perspectives.

References:
Hamid, M. (2008). The Reluctant Fundamentalist. Anchor Canada.

Topic: How does Persepolis falsify and hide truths or bring truth to abstract concepts?

When I started reading Marjane Satrapi’s “Persepolis,” I enjoyed the book as the comic form was a relief from conventional university readings. However, I was not sure how to feel about the content as I could not find personal relations to the upbringing or culture of Marji, the story’s main protagonist. It was only until later in the memoir when I began to sympathize with the personal struggles and political oppression that the characters faced in the story. At times, these instances seemed rather exaggerated. It made me wonder how transparent the author really was when describing events throughout the book. I question this not to suggest that the author or book is dishonest, but to convey that some truths may be hidden beneath the plain text of the comic. Conversely, Satrapi also sheds light on prominent morals by disclosing their realities through her childhood experiences.

“Persepolis” by Marjane Satrapi, page 77

The author may have dramatized some scenes in her comic for entertainment purposes, but at what extent of dramatization does a portion from a graphic memoir become pure fiction? As illustrated in a large panel on page 77, the Satrapis went on a vacation during a time of major governmental and societal change. While the audience may assume the family did not actually fly on a carpet, it is implied that the trip appeared, through Marji’s perspective, to be magical and practically unreal. Perhaps this was a facade to conceal greater, deeper issues which Marji’s family was dealing with at the time. In that case, it may have even helped the author, Satrapi, to forget and deny the harsh realities of her rocky childhood. This is comparable to the acknowledgements made by Kate J. Waites, American literary scholar, in her biography on Sarah Polley’s documemoir, “Stories We Tell.” Waites recognizes that Polley employed actors for re-enactment purposes, and supposedly to also favour her own perspective of her family’s story. In both “Persepolis” and “Stories We Tell,” these fictional supplements have ultimately misrepresented reality in their respective artforms. Furthermore, this falsification welcomes the audience to establish their own perspectives of the implicit truths.

“Persepolis” by Marjane Satrapi, page 70

While bounded by the simplicity of a comic book, several realities and morals are depicted throughout Persepolis. To emphasize, Satrapi implicitly expresses how one’s heroes are closest to them. Though ironic, Marji viewed her Uncle Anoosh as a hero for being imprisoned. Moreover, the theme of coming-of-age is significant in this story, especially at times when Marji is struck by crude truths. For instance, on page 70, she learned that her Uncle Anoosh, whom she loved very much, was executed. In a way, this discovery changed her personality and forced her to mature. As a result, she let go of her “God” and even parts of her childhood. Like Marji, Polley’s relation to her family changed when she found that Michael was, in fact, not her biological father. Both have also selectively viewed members of her family as protagonists and others as not.

While Marjane Satrapi may hide some realities in her comic, she undoubtedly addresses powerful concepts throughout her book. Persepolis shows how melodramatic scenes can passively demonstrate an author’s intent to obscure truths from their audience. At the same time, this memoir’s latent realities allow both the author and their audience to reflect not only on the story but their own lives. Though the line between genuine and falsified truths is blurry in such literature, it is often left to the interpreter to determine where and how to establish it.

References

Polley, S. (2012). Stories We Tell. Mongrel Media

Satrapi, M. (2003). Persepolis. Pantheon Books, pp.70, 77

Waites, K. J. (2015). Sarah Polley’s Documemoir Stories We Tell: The Refracted Subject.
          Biography,38(4), 543-555. doi:10.1353/bio.2016.0004

It has been such a long time since I’ve walked into a museum that I don’t even recall being in one at all. Considering that, I visited the Museum of Anthropology at UBC open-minded, and to my surprise, I found many fascinating displays there, one of which was the Arts of Resistance exhibit. Curated by Laura Osorio Sunnucks, this exhibit presents symbols of Latin American history and culture through stories that resonate with modern political issues around the world. These symbols, in the form of traditional apparel, paintings, and religious figures, are acts of “resistance to dominant cultural and political forces” (Osorio Sunnucks, 2018) in their respective communities.

Self-Liberation

Amidst the many pieces of art, the display that caught my attention was a collection of ceramics that belong to Chilean refugees, Adam and Irene Policzer, who fled to Vancouver during the overthrow of socialism and rise of a new fascist government in the early 1970s. Titled “Matter of Emotion,” these ceramics indirectly convey the Policzers’ story of escape from the far-right nation that they no longer considered home. As a second-generation Chinese immigrant, I can relate to this act of self-liberation as my parents immigrated to Vancouver from China, which was and still is governed by a communist party. Personally, I see the Policzers’ artwork as a reminder that allows me to recollect my family history and be grateful that I live in a country with many freedoms that may also be celebrated by the artists. However, it raises the concern that not all people fleeing from oppression experience straightforward migrations as the Policzers or my parents may have gone through. How many emigrants flee from danger unnoticed? What about the people who migrate but face harsh realities that are not much more liberating than their life in the country they fled from? Ultimately, the ceramics are a symbol to remind us not only of those who experience adversity after immigration, but to also shed light on those who could not flee and lived with ongoing oppression in the rise of Fascist Chile.

“Matter of Emotion” by Adam and Irene Policzer

Resistance

After the coup of Chile’s socialist president in 1973, Adam was imprisoned by fascists for being a leftist. Though it’s unclear of when and how he was released, fleeing to Canada with Irene was his way of refusing to conform to the new government’s standards. I noticed that this was a theme which perfectly illustrated the name of the exhibit, “Arts of Resistance.” In addition, I found it interesting that the artwork’s description noted how the ceramics were made in rural Chile. I see significance in this as a rural place may be associated with freedom and independence. In contrast, an urban society can be tied to corruption and dependence on elites. The irony in all of this is that the Policzers fled from a region of political instability but kept with them pieces of art that represent peace and emancipation. Perhaps this is a broader depiction of resistance where the Policzers are in denial and refusing to believe that their home country has evolved into one so unfamiliar. Overall, the concept of resistance is deeply embedded in this art, whether it is obvious or not, as portrayed especially through the tales which are expressed through the seemingly plain ceramics.

References

Museum of Anthropology at UBC. (2018). Arts of Resistance – Museum of Anthropology at
          UBC. [online] Available at: https://moa.ubc.ca/exhibition/arts-of-resistance/ [Accessed
          29 Sep. 2018].

Osorio Sunnucks, L. (2018). Arts of Resistance. [Politics and the Past in Latin America] Vancouver,
          BC: Museum of Anthropology.