Category: 2018 Blog Post

Understanding Geryon’s Lived Experiences Through Delegitimizing Law

In Autobiography of Red by Anne Carson, Geryon, the main character, is a boy growing up in a world in which he does not see representations of himself in the people and spaces around him. The novel takes the reader through Geryon’s life through his perspective.  When Geryon went to Buenos Aires, he met a man who was visiting for a conference. When this acquaintance was talking about his education he said, “I was looking at the sociology of ancient law codes. [Geryon responded] You are interested in justice? [and the man responded] I’m interested in how people decide what sounds like a law” (Carson 1999, 88). The word choice in this interaction is very significant. Using the words “how people decide,” brings about the idea that laws are initially decided by people. I believe that oftentimes people forget that at some point in time laws didn’t exist. This language allows the reader to take a step back and acknowledge that society has been created by people, and this can make the reader question the legitimacy of these laws when thinking about how people have different viewpoints and ideas. Additionally, by using the words “what sounds like a law,” Carson is invoking the idea that laws in themselves can be illegitimate. While society defines laws to be something in which people have to follow, the speaker questions this. Autobiography of Red is inventive because the novel slips radical and thought provoking ideas into casual conversations such as the one above. This serves great purpose for the rest of the novel because by normalizing difference and questioning societal norms, the reader is able to think about how these norms have an effect on Geryon, and is able to better identify how he questions the norms in his life within his existence and through his life experience.

 

Carson, Anne. 1999. Autobiography of Red. New York: Vintage Contemporaries – Random House. 

Synesthesia in Autobiography of Red

Autobiography of Red, by Anne Carson, is an incredibly creative and original book of poems. The combination of a modern setting with Greek myth tells a highly unique story, but Carson’s inventiveness goes beyond the general plot and even into the specific lines and words she uses to paint a picture. Throughout the novel, Carson uses color to describe at least one thing in almost every poem. Certain colors come up more than others, including gold, and, of course, red. Carson does not simply describe objects with colors, but emotions, moods, tastes, smells, and feelings. For example, in the first poem, “Justice”, Carson writes, “the intolerable red assault of grass… was pulling him towards it”. This unusual use of color can be seen throughout the book as an example of synesthesia. Synesthesia is a rare disorder in which people associate stimulation of one sense with another (for example, smelling colors). Carson’s decision to use synesthesia could be a way of implying Geryon’s inability to fit into the world in the way others do. He understands things differently, but beautifully. Geryon, a little red monster, is special and unique for many reasons, one of which being his color.  Red is an incredibly stimulating color, and even those of us without synesthesia may associate redness with a lot of different meanings including love, anger, and lust. However, most of all, red in this book is a symbol of glaring difference in a black and white world. The inventiveness of this book, including the overall plot as well as the use of synesthesia, is symbolic of Geryon’s own uniqueness and difference.

Carson, Stesichoros, and Tradition

“He came after Homer and before Gertrude Stein, a difficult interval for a poet,” (3) Anne Carson writes of Autobiography of Red’s supposed author, Stesichoros. In fact, what Carson’s book does innovatively is occupy that middle ground between tradition (Homer) and exploding tradition (Stein). Carson goes on to write of the Homeric epic, “being is stable and particularity is set fast in tradition.” Indeed, at least in Tender Buttons, tradition is what Stein sets out to wreck. Words are repeated until they have lost their meaning, the exact opposite of the stable being and set tradition established by Homer, whose “epithets are a fixed diction with which [he] fastens every substance in the world to its aptest attribute” (4). Carson describes this tradition as “the still surface” of a “code” (5), suggesting that Homeric tradition assigned words and objects specific connotative meanings (those same meanings that Stein set out to break in Tender Buttons).

Autobiography of Red differentiates itself from the styles of both of these poets, using synesthetic moments and anachronistic settings (combining the world of ancient Greek myth with modernity) to create a piece of writing that simultaneously draws from tradition and challenges tradition. Carson writes, “Stesichoros released being. All the substances in the world went floating up” (5), suggesting that, with the advent of “Stesichoros’s” style, suddenly words were free to take on new connotations. At the same time, Carson’s work does not obliterate tradition in the method of Stein. Instead, it draws from tradition in order to make something new, shifting what was already there.

Mental entrapment as a weapon

Throughout the novel, Geryon repeatedly retreats into his own mind to escape mental over stimulation or abuse.  When his brother asks him what his favorite weapon is, Geryon replies with “Cage.”  His brother retorts that a cafe “isn’t a weapon…Has to destroy the enemy” (Carson, 33).  Autobiography of Red explores the notion of entrapment as a weapon, through the use of words such as “tanks” or cages.  The repetition of these words are indicative of Geryon’s own feeling of being enclosed in a small space.  Because he suffered through his brother’s sexual abuse, Geryon feels entrapped and therefore retreats to his own mind; he has to keep this a secret from everyone.  He is unable to talk of what happened and therefore relies on other means to explain his feelings.

Geryon, therefore, created his own cage for himself; because he cannot explain his own emotions, even to his own mother, he relies on photography to express himself.  He cages himself and is therefore unable to fully articulate his own feelings.  Because of this cage, he is unable to express if a situation makes him feel uncomfortable, such as when Ancash forces Geryon to take his overcoat off, thus exposing his wings.  Ancash touches Geryon’s wings without him asking if it is alright, and thus Geryon “wonders if he is going to faint” (128).  No where in the passage does Geryon say it is ok for Ancash to violate his personal space and the moment is not brought up again.  Geryon therefore is unable to articulate how moments such as that make him feel uncomfortable, because of the self-imposed mental cage.

Mythology and Modernity

Anne Carsons Autobiography of Red is particularly fascinating because it blends myth with modernity. Carson uses a lost poem, “The Tales of Geryon” from the Greek poet Stesichorus, and expands upon the myth of the little red monster Geryon with her own flare. In Stesichorus’ version, Hercules, (or Herakles, in Carons version) kills Geryon. Whereas in Carson’s version, the tale of Geryon is almost a coming of age story of someone who feels that he does not belong in the society around him, and the killing of Geryon is actually the breaking of Geryon’s heart. It is in this way that Carson manages to modernize a monster, personifying something that would otherwise not feel what we feel.

Geryon grows up shy and finds solace in photography. He has complicated relationships with his family, enduring abuse from his elder brother and existing in a tense space with his mother. These characteristics have themes of normalcy and act as a distraction from the fact that Geryon is indeed a monster. Geryon’s constant soliloquies about his redness and his wings relating to his feelings about feeling outcast draw parallels to what most teens experience through adolescence, that perhaps their physicality isn’t enough to fit into society.

The modernity of the world around Geryon baffles me when reflecting on the fact he is a red monster with wings. They live in a society with a modern education system,  telephones, modern transportation, and modern media. The fact that no one mentions Geryon’s redness and that there are others with wings, (Ancash), perfectly blends this myth with modernity. In that way, Carson’s work is very much inventive.

Personification

Throughout Autobiography of Red, personification is used to bring the environment around Geryon to life and allows readers to feel what Geryon felt about his surroundings. The personification gives more information about the setting Geryon is in and whether it not it has significance to Geryon’s experience. For example, in section IV. Tuesday, Carson describes the setting as, “a black January wind came flattening down from the top of the sky hitting the windows hard” (35). Giving a month (January) the characteristic/ability to flatten and hit is used to contrast the unpleasantness outside and the pleasantness inside whilst hanging out with his mom. By enabling this use of personification, we can use the negative aspect of the quote to reiterate the importance of this weekly enjoyable moment for Geryon. Another example in which personification enables readers to understand the emotions of Geryon in a certain environment is when Geryon’s brother states that their mother would not be home for hours, at which point Geryon “felt everything in the room hurl itself away from him” (31). Equipping his room the characteristic of hurling is inventive because it helps readers understand Geryon’s emotions of feeling alone and powerless when he becomes aware that he will be alone with his abusive brother. Carson’s use of personification provides readers a different understanding of Geryon’s emotions.  

The Self Concept

Geryon finds himself questioning his own reality as a direct result of his older brother degrading him. His brother speaks to him as if Geryon is some sort of evil being that deserves punishment. He is beating Geryon down with things that sit in the mind. For instance, while newly sharing a bedroom he tells him, “what smells in here is you, Geryon” (Carson, 51). The ridicule isn’t just brotherly banter, but appears to be a sort of psychological attack. He is leaving young Geryon to ponder his words, and decide what to make of them. In our youth, human beings form their perceptions of the world. The self concept is what we know about ourselves. We start building our self concept through personal beliefs and the reactions of others during social interaction. “He had a respect for facts maybe this was one” (Carson, 51), Geryon is left to believe that his brother’s remark may be truth. In reality, Geryon’s older brother is likely the one that actually smells badly, which is why he is pinning the negative trait onto his sibling. But, his intimidation is not just to make himself feel better, it is to weaken Geryon. After shaming Geryon, he sexually abuses the young boy in the same scene. These types of behaviors are the things that affect people for life. “Self-esteem is the level of positive feeling one has about oneself” (Greenberg, 217), and it remains relatively constant throughout life. Being humiliated and sexually assaulted by someone at a young age, especially by a relative, is bound to affect self esteem in the long run.

Red

A commentary on the use of the color red in Lisa Dordal’s poem, “I.   Intersection”

Red not only provides a set tone for the poem, a filter through which to experience it, but also a catalyst for change within the story of the poem. In the beginning, the red of the spilled meat marks the transition to the next scene, and while it is a small transition, it parallels a much larger shift within the narrator’s mother. In the clarity provided by the red stoplight and the stillness and solitude of the intersection, there is a pivotal moment both between the narrator and the narrator’s mother and within the mother herself: a response to the question “Have you ever thought you might be…” (ln. 9), in defense, “It wasn’t an option” (ln. 13). For the narrator, the question is really, Are you like me? and the answer is a “…revelation carrying the whole sinewy weight of non-being.” (ln. 18-19). They recognize this exact feeling of hiding within and from themself that has consumed their mother for so long, and that once consumed them. They chose protection from the weight of being gay (a perceived respite), but in doing this hid away an intrinsic part of their being that became heavier with each denial of its existence. It is here, where the two are “looking straight” in the lucidity of the red stoplight, we are reminded of the first two lines of the poem. For the mother, the narrator’s question is a revelation. The death of the fridge, another catalyst, resembles the end of the mother’s hidden-self phase of life and spilling of the bright, contagious meat her choice and need to come out to her daughter.

On Reconciling Religion and Queerness in Mosaic of the Dark

What Eye Is This
Lisa Dordal

1. Twice Now I’ve Dreamed of Birds
What eye is this that rises
and falls, sudden flock
across a blue wake, billowing
as if body and sky
are one. As God becomes
the quarrel, becomes
confusion and descent,
fragment of exaltation. This
eye, this wisp of seeing
and being seen.

*I have only included “1. Twice Now I’ve Dreamed of Birds”, and not “2. Omniscience, Prayer, Pantheon”, because the second one was not as relevant to what I was writing about.
———–

Some of the things which draw me to Lisa Dordal’s poetry the strongest are her usages of Biblical allusions and references to the Divine. I do not necessarily consider myself a religious person; religion is not something that comes easy to me, and I’ve tried. However, it seems that there is something inherently magnetizing about gems of religious references which are hidden in literature pertaining to matters of identity, particularly about queer identity, because the two, even as concepts, are so often at odds with each other (more by execution than design, but design is certainly not exempt from any blame). Queerness and religion are woven together in Mosaic of the Dark, as they are both fundamental elements of Dordal’s identity and of the events of her life thus far, and “1. Twice Now I’ve Dreamed of Birds” from “What Eye is This” (p. 62) caught my eye as invoking both of these.
This poem is a snapshot of the events of a brief dream (whether real or fake is not apparent, but so many of Dordal’s other poems draw on memory and raw experiences that I would expect it to have been an actual dream). It then transitions to God again, and to being seen, themes that have been appearing throughout the book.
I had the opportunity to ask Dordal about this, or rather, comment on how important it was to see as someone who has also realized that many of my deep-seated issues with identity and being seen have to do with the Catholic Church’s insistence on queer erasure. From what she said over the course of the evening, it seems she has most definitely been able to reconcile much of that, and she now holds a Masters in Divinity, and through her writing she has been able to find healing and closure.
In this class, through texts such as The Trouble With Normal by Michael Warner, it has been made apparent that standards placed upon queer individuals by the confines of religion are considered “bad” because of their normalcy. Sometimes, though, it is absolutely imperative that queer people reconcile their relationship with religion instead of ignoring their church’s doctrine entirely. In Lisa Dordal’s case, this has provided a sense of peace and a path of study/career path, and she now writes about it as a way of emphasizing the isolation that she, as a closeted lesbian felt (for many reasons, though – not solely because of religion, but that no doubt had an impact on her). I think that although Michael Warner may have made excellent points in arguing against the traditional values placed upon queer people by religion, Dordal demonstrates that reconciling one’s relationship with religion, as a queer individual, can be a way of freeing oneself and making oneself seen again.

The Lie, Our Savior

“Driving through Georgia, we lie like Abraham” (Dordal, 50).

Here, in her The Lies that Save Us, Lisa Dordal brings us on a trip alongside her partner and herself. My speculation is that these two simple lines, more so the second, hold deep-rooted meaning to Dordal. Her Lutheran upbringing is reflected in her writing on a number of occasions, but this instance specifically relates her to a religious figure. Abraham, a biblical patriarch, is known for his white lie, or lie of protection. A lie similar to Lisa’s, a lie of caution, and for the sake of his wife. Abraham feared that his wife would be killed if the knowledge of their marriage became known to the wrong people, so he claimed to be her brother. Lisa, just like Abraham, is well aware of the evil intentions that are far too common amongst humanity. The unfortunate truth to society is that some people think they have a right to interfere with the lives of other people. There is no way of knowing what someone is thinking in their head, which is why it is better to be safe than sorry. As sad as it is, unjustified acts of violence happen to people regularly. Lisa speaks on such senseless violence in Amanat, another poem from the same collection. A terrible attack on an innocent woman in New Delhi, India that is just one of many instances of human horror. As a member of the lesbian community in an unknown place, Dordal knows that she is at risk of having a halfwit do something to her and her wife because of how she identifies. The Lies that Save Us speaks on the sadly necessary precautions that must sometimes be taken.