Author: jen

Alice’s Adventure in Wonderland can be read as a satire on education and knowledge, which at times reminds me of Brave New World by Aldous Huxley. There are a few nurseries rhymes in the story; two of them, “How doth the little—” (Carroll 11) and “You are old, Father William” (35), Alice recited to find out if she was still the same person after having fallen into the rabbit hole. Knowledge is represented as something that is unique to its owner. Alice decided that she must have become someone else because the rhymes she remembered were different from before. It’s almost mechanical that Alice had to recite the whole rhyme and listen to herself to make that judgement, as if the rhymes were forcibly beaten into her head; she couldn’t help but reciting the whole thing. That reminded me of the use of hypnopedia in Brave New World, to teach children about things like what is the longest river in Africa. When being asked that question, the children wouldn’t know the answer but are able to recite the sentence played to them in their sleep. Likewise, Alice doesn’t think before she recites, like when she said “London is the capital of Paris, and Paris is the capital of Rome, and Rome—” (11).

Another moment that is reminiscent of Brave New World is that the Duchess finds a nonsense moral lesson in everything like “flamingoes and mustard both bite. And the moral of that is—‘Birds of a feather flock together’” (74). The moral is phrased to sound so plausible that it lures people to take it for granted and ignore what it’s actually saying; it sounds almost like a slogan from Brave New World. The slogans are also part of the hypnopedia curriculum and some of them tend to give people guidance in life, like “a gramme is always better than a damn” and “ending is better than mending” (Huxley). Ironically, as moments of satire on knowledge, there is barely any sort of knowledge or sense present in what the Duchess preaches.

Carroll, Lewis. Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland & Through the Looking-Glass. Bantam Dell, 2006.

https://gutenberg.ca/ebooks/huxleya-bravenewworld/huxleya-bravenewworld-00-h.html#chapter16

As we (y’all) discussed in class, Betteredge has very surface level opinions on most things and I think that applies to his and other characters’ knowledge on the moonstone as well. They are concerned only about the appearance and the worth of this stone, but are completely ignorant of, even have no care for its religious and cultural value or the consequences of displacing it.

This is the passage where we get the grand reveal of the moonstone:
“Lord bless us! it was a Diamond! As large, or nearly, as a plover’s egg! The light that streamed from it was like the light of the harvest moon. When you looked down into the stone, you looked into a yellow deep that drew your eyes into it so that they saw nothing else. It seemed unfathomable; this jewel, that you could hold between your finger and thumb seemed unfathomable as the heavens themselves. We set it in the sun, and then shut the light out of the room, and it shone awfully out of the depths of its own brightness, with a moony gleam, in the dark.” (Collins 74)
In Betteredge’s narrative, he focuses mainly on the its size, glow and how much it resembles the moon, but he seems to be unaware of (or choose to turn away from) the the origin of the moonstone: it was set in the forehead of the Indian God of moon and was “supposed to be affected by the lunar influences” (12). Betteredge does address how the moonstone “seemed unfathomable as the heavens themselves” (74) but fails to see that it might possess some sort of divine agency. If it can be taken literally that the stone is “affected by lunar influences”, I found a website (reliable or not I don’t know) that tells me the moon phase on Rachel’s birthday, 06/21/1848, and that is a 74% full moon, which to me sounds strong enough to induce an unpleasant dinner party through the moonstone. Maybe this idea will recur in the rest of the novel, but if not, the link is attached just for fun.

Based on Franklin’s observation on the moonstone, there is “a defect, in the shape of a flaw, in the very heart of the stone” (50). Apart from the physical defect, the stone is said to be cursed as well; it is said to punish and avenge those who lay their hands on it. If the stone is affected by the moon, and punishment is even predicted by a deity (Vishnu the Preserver), it seems to imply that divine power punishes the immoral in this case.

Betteredge and the other characters are depicted as ignorant intruders who take what’s sacred in another culture without knowing its true value and power. They are trying to take possession of something that is beyond their knowledge and control. I’m curious to read on and see if there will be any more obvious supernatural interference in the story.

 

https://www.moonpage.com/index.html?go=T&auto_dst=T&totphase=WANING+GIBBOUS+%2863.64%25+full%29&m=6&d=21&y=1848&hour=21&min=0&sec=0

In a conventional sense, Rochester does seem like he almost has complete power over Jane with his social status, his wealth, gender, age and experience. But I would like to argue that with Jane, Rochester’s demanding demeanor and his so-called power not only doesn’t intimidate or weaken her but encourages her to be an equal to him. I am not arguing that their relationship is not affected by their various differences, but that these differences doesn’t affect their power dynamic because Jane is the way she is, and Rochester is aware of it.

 

The discourse between the two of them in chapter 14 is very telling about their dynamic. Rochester observes that Jane is examining his appearance, he then demands “what fault do you find with me …… Criticize me: does my forehead not please you” (138). Jane being not at all intimidated or ashamed, replies that she does not find him handsome. Rochester instills no fear in Jane because she doesn’t feel pressured by his status and wealth. Jane also selects the topics or questions she wants to respond to, and she excuses Rochester for being drunk and very talkative. When asked to talk about herself, Jane remains silent and thinks “If he expects me to talk for the mere sake of talking and showing off, he will find he has addressed himself to the wrong person” (140). She tells Rochester to “do as you please” (140) and she brings an end their conversation by leaving him. Rochester offers Jane space where she can speak freely of her mind, which is a luxury for most women in Jane’s position in the 19^thcentury. Also a result of this delicate power dynamic between them, Jane had her most powerful speech about their spirits communicating on the same level, and she left Thornfield on her own initiative.

 

Many times in chapter 13 and 14, Jane examines Rochester’s appearance and the novel emphasizes the plainness in both of their looks. Would it have been strange and creepy if the novel was written from the male perspective describing the appearance of a woman? It certainly was of Winterbourne in Daisy Miller. Why do I as a reader (I won’t speak for anyone else here) excuse Jane for doing so but not Winterbourne? Does the difference lie between the male gaze and the female gaze (because only the male gaze can be interpreted as sexual?), or in whether the person in question is beautiful like Daisy or plain like Rochester? Somehow in my mind as a reader, I feel more comfortable and more justified following the gaze of someone who has more disadvantages in this relationship. Jane is not on the powerless side in her dynamic with Rochester; intuitively she seems to be, but only because of such conventions like gender and age and social status that cloud my judgement.

As Winterbourne escorts Daisy to her date with Giovanelli, he declares: “that I intend to remain with you” (James 39), insisting that he will accompany her whether she likes it or not. Daisy responds with calling him out on “dictating” to her. Winterbourne tells her that she is making a mistake and that himself is the “right gentleman” whom she should listen to as opposed to acting as she pleases. This is the first scene in this novel where Winterbourne tries to interfere with Daisy’s way of living and subtly suggests to her that what she does is not different, but wrong, in Europe. As jealousy ferments in him, Winterbourne becomes increasingly more upfront about his readiness to “correct” Daisy’s behavior. He goes out of his way to find Mrs. Miller when Daisy isn’t at the hotel, to literally educate her on how to teach shame into Daisy. But thankfully, as readers we are spared the discomfort of having to read that scene since Winterbourne gives up on his notion.

Winterbourne is a character who is so pre-occupied with narrating what is happening around him, that he rarely reflects upon himself. He reminds me a lot of Nick Carraway from The Great Gatsby, who declares from the first chapter that he detests judgements but somehow shamelessly contradicts himself throughout the novel. Winterbourne sees himself to be an upholder of European tradition, while courting a lady, who is older than himself, in Geneva. He likes to act like the mature and reasonable gentleman around Daisy but in fact, he is deeply frustrated by Daisy’s indifferent attitude towards him. And Winterbourne has an irresistible urge to offer protection and guidance to Daisy Miller, because he thinks of Daisy as vulnerable and ignorant when it comes to European conventions or what people think of her. On the other hand, Daisy is in fact keenly aware of who she is, and of what people think of her. She admits that “I’m a fearful, frightful flirt! Did you ever hear of a nice girl that was not” (49). Her speech is powerful, and she is courageous in the face of her own true identity, which instills fear and almost admiration in Winterbourne and puts him to shame.

I want to discuss Oliver’s discourse so far and what that implies about the society he lives in. His discourse has mostly been passive, because he only gets a chance to speak when he is confronted and even if he does, he is never trusted. As readers, we seldom get any insights on what exactly is going on in Oliver’s mind, and he rarely conveys to people or has anyone to convey to, about his feelings and thoughts. So I was glad to see when Oliver was finally given a chance to talk about his past and was entrusted at Mrs. Maylie’s house. It was the first time in his life that he was able to speak about his sufferings; the process of his recollection was difficult just as his journey was: “The Conference was a long one; for Oliver told them all his simple history: and was often compelled to stop, by pain and want of strength. It was a solemn thing, to hear, in the darkened room, the feeble voice of the sick child recounting a weary catalogue of evils and calamities which hard men had brought upon him” (163). Simply having listeners to his stories was a kind of grace for Oliver, because he wasn’t always so fortunate.

Before finding his haven at Mrs. Maylie’s house, Oliver met people who simply do not care about what he has to say: Fagin could tell by his appearance that Oliver was obviously just another orphan for him to exploit. Mr. Bumble shamelessly lies about Oliver’s past because he knows that his words will always be more credible than Oliver’s due to his age and status. And Mr. Brownlow chose to believe in whatever the stranger tells him instead of trusting Oliver who was sincere and grateful. In this society, innocent children are easily mistaken as malicious liars, which indicates how skeptical and insecure they are of each other. Even when people do have interest in what Oliver has to say, the interest always lies in his past, which is directly related to his status or his family’s status. Mr. Bumble’s fabrication begins with how Oliver was “born of low and vicious parents” (95) which clearly has a great impact on what Mr. Brownlow thinks of Oliver. The only place where social status and history doesn’t matter is at the bottom of the social hierarchy which is a catch itself.