Lovely Literature

I have decided to take a different approach to the second novel's blogs. I'm basically going to read through the book, make notes, then blog about it. I started doing that toward the end of The Things They Carried and I found out that I understood much more.

I'm about halfway into The Sun Also Rises...and I definitely don't like it as much as I liked The Things They Carried. Oh well. You win some, you lose some.

Buuuut...fun fact! One of the books I got on my birthday is called Girlfriend Material by Melissa Kantor [it's a quick-read, teenage summer love book], but the main character, or protagonist if you want to get fancy, is obsessed with reading and literature. That's not the cool part though. Her favorite book that she quotes the throughout the entire book is The Sun Also Rises by none other than Ernest Hemingway. She often compares herself to Lady Brett Ashley in that she is an independent woman and seems to have trouble settling.

Anyway, I thought that was pretty cool. And it was kind of a sign that I should finish this book soon.

Off to go read! :]

"For me, though, it did matter. It still does. I should've stepped in; fourth grade is no excuse. Besides, it doesn't get easier with time, and twelve years later, when Vietnam presented much harder choices, some practice at being brave might've helped a little," [page 221].

Well. Raise your hand if you think the end of this novel is depressing!

Linda. She was barely even mentioned until the very last chapter, yet she was quite a large part of O'Brien's childhood. I'm assuming he is married since he has a daughter, but from what I recall he doesn't mention his wife [correct me if I'm wrong?].

I think O'Brien brought her into this story as a symbol. A symbol for strength, courage, kindness, love, and struggle. O'Brien claims he truly loved her at nine years old, and that he still loves her to this day. If Linda would have lived, who knows if she and O'Brien would have worked, but the thought that they might still be together is uplifting.

It amazes me that O'Brien truly believes he found love at nine years old. I can't even begin to define love at my age right now. That's a heavy burden for a nine year old. The unusual thing is that I can actually believe that O'Brien loved her and knew that he did when he was nine.

Altogether, I actually enjoyed this book. After I finished my previous entries, I took a few hours off of blogging so I could think about the book more as a whole. It had elements that scared me because it was so graphic and real even though I was reading words in print. The stories were vivid and painted a picture in my mind. At the end, I'm still questioning certain stories...but I guess that's what makes an author good right? Still able to raise questions even though the novel is complete.

On to the next one...

I love that O'Brien brings in his daughter to this story. Sometimes you need the innocent child perspective in life.

"The war was as remote to her as cavemen and dinosaurs.
One morning in Saigon she'd asked what it was all about. "This whole war," said said, "why was everybody so mad at everybody else?" [page 175]

The truth and innocence that comes out of a blunt child's mouth is astounding. Seriously, why was everybody so mad at everybody else? If only it was that easy to pinpoint the time that things began to go downhill.

It's impossible to make everyone happy. I think that's why wars begin. Someone is so unhappy with what is going on that they have to let the world know about it. Oh, that and world domination [good luck with that].

I wish adults could wake up and look at life through a child's eyes. They see everything as happy and beautiful, and who wouldn't want to see life like that? I think it would do people good to take a happier perspective on life. Then maybe they wouldn't be so regretful about their lives.

I feel like Tim O'Brien grew up even more while writing this book. I haven't read his other books, but I imagine by getting his words out there, he has grown up every time. He also has lifted a weight off of his chest.

"Yet when I received Norman Bowker's letter, it occurred to me that the act of writing had led me through a swirl of memories that might otherwise have ended in paralysis or worse. By telling stories, you objectify your own experience," [152].

O'Brien objectified his own experience through this book. I think he needed to tell his stories so that he could prove to himself that he actually went through these things. When something crazy happens to me, it doesn't feel real unless I tell someone about it. Even then it doesn't sound real.

When I went on SFS, I climbed a mountain. It was the hardest, most amazing thing I have ever done in my life, and I will never do it again. Even if I get the opportunity, I don't think I will take it. When I finished climbing that Mount Sneffles, a.k.a. Mount Mega Death, it felt like I had never even begun. It's so out of the ordinary, why would I think of myself as a mountain climber? Well, I did it. I even brought home a rock to prove it. :] My experience was not complete though until I called my parents back at the campsite, slightly sobbing from relief. Once I told them, it became more real to me.

Whoa. I climbed a mountain.
What'd you do this summer? haha

"How the rain never stopped. How the cold worked into your bones. Sometimes the bravest thing on earth was to sit through the night and feel the cold in your bones. Courage was not always a matter of yes or no," [page 141].

This quote comes from Bowker's chapter when he's in his hometown circling the lake. This also goes back to how war changes people. Bowker felt like Kiowa's death was his fault because he couldn't stand the smell and couldn't grab him out of the poop. I think watching a death like that would weigh upon me as well. He eventually hangs himself because he feels like war sucked everything out of him, like his life is suddenly pointless.

The number of deaths that are told in a nonchalant way in this book astounds me. I'm sure O'Brien doesn't mean to convey that they are not important, but I suppose once you're so used to death, you can easily write about it like it's nothing.

It sounds like this quote says sometimes the most courageous thing you can do is live. I agree with that, but I think killing yourself is definitely the cowardly way to get out of a difficult spot. Everyone is put on here for a reason, but it is not one person's choice whether or not to stay on this earth.

One character who I really can't stand is Azar. I don't remember him being mentioned much in the beginning of the book, but towards the end he is mentioned much more. I can't stand him.

He's one of those guys that gets through tough times by making jokes. Sure, that works for some people, but for some take it a little too far. He crosses the line for me almost every time he talks.

On pages 129-130, he makes fun of the girl dancing while her village and family burns around her. I figure she is in some kind of shock and dancing makes it all go away, even just for a second. He stands there and makes fun of her. Seriously, you're becoming a killing machine and you laugh at people's pain? Wow. I'm not a fan of you Azar.

I think he's a very immature boy who was pushed into the war. When Kiowa dies in the poop field, he is joking the entire time and I just want to tell him to SHUT UP!

"A classic case," Azar was saying. "Biting the dirt, so to speak, that tells the story." [page 158].

The whole time I was reading the search for Kiowa, I wanted to smack Azar. Yeah, sure, it's ironic that Kiowa dies in a poop field, but I'm pretty sure that everyone else already noticed. Stop making it more obvious.

On a SFS related note, why does everything [even my Lit book] relate back to poop!?

:]

O'Brien truly seems scarred by this one man he "kills" in My Khe. He uses repetition of the same descriptive paragraph several times.

"He was a slim, dead, almost dainty young man of about twenty. He lay with one leg bent beneath him, his jaw in his throat, his face neither expressive nor inexpressive. One eye was shut. The other was a star-shaped hole," [page 124].

He was truly shaken up about this. He talks about it later on page 172 and says that he didn't actually kill this man physically, but he felt like he killed him. I think that's what he is saying atleast. This part really confused me...well I won't lie, a good majority of this book is confusing because O'Brien tries to explain that a true war story is never true, but it is always right. Or something along those lines.

Is this a metaphor for all those who died? He feels like he was in this war, connected to all kinds of people who were dead and were killing others. Since he couldn't stop the war himself, did he feel like it was his fault that so many people were killed? I am quite confused. Sometimes when I read books, I feel like I think much deeper than the author did when writing.

He uses repetition to show his shock from staring at this man he didn't even know. O'Brien felt like he killed this man, and he started going through the thought process that the man may have had before entering the war. The repetition establishes that even though he has seen death multiple times, it never becomes easy.