Author: Jay Walker

I want to dedicate this close reading to focus on a few lines from chapter nine of Autobiography of Red. The chapter, for me, was one a bit more difficult to understand, but I hope by writing out the thought process of my analysis, it brings us both, as author and reader, closer to the text. Or at the very least, to the deeper meanings associated with it.

The part of text that I’m most interested in is towards the end of the chapter. After Geryon’s mother asks about Herakles, Geryon has a small mental spiral of all the emotions and moments that Herakles represents (Carson 43). This detail bulks the emotion depth that I believe the following sentences offer.

“‘How does distance look?’ is a simple direct question. It extends from a spaceless / within to the edge / of what can be loved. It depends on light.” (Carson 43). 

If you were to ask me how distance looks like, to be frank, I’m not sure I could give you an answer. However, keeping in consideration Geryon’s relationship with photography, distance is determined by the amount of light that is exposed to the lens of a camera. I would like to maybe stretch the bounds of this quote, and draw a comparison to Geryon and Herakles relationship. Naturally, when we fall out of love with our first love, life tends to feel like it can either brighten or darken, depending on your relationship. I also believe that this has to do with the idea that, just beyond the horizon (get it, horizon line in photography? no. alright.), there is a place where the light of love has yet to reach.

As Geryon is beginning to realize, Herakles is not nearly as impressive or amazing as he first thought. The spaceless, referring to our innate vastness of mind, to the end of what can be loved, in Geryon’s case, Herakles. I want to believe that the light in the novel refers to the likelihood of that relationship to work. In tandem with photography, a photo cannot be taken without light. The same way a relationship can’t work if the people are incompatible. Given this, you cannot see distance in the dark, the same way you cannot love without a spark, or light.

Please correct me if I’m wrong,

JAY WALKER

 

 

I’m glad you filled in the blank, but are you?

Author of Brokeback Mountain, Edna Ann Proulx, is begging something of us as readers. I propose that the argument woven throughout the text is the internalization of fear, in this case, queer fear. By saying this, I want to outwardly state that my definition of “queer fear” is not homophobia. Rather, “queer fear” coins itself as a moment of dread felt by someone who may or may not identity as queer themselves. And I hear the sigh already, “okay babes, the main characters in Brokeback Mountain never call themselves gay, why is that a big deal”? And to that I say, “exactly”.

Some textual points I would like to expand upon can easily be recognized starting as early as page fifteen. After Jack and Ennis have intimate and sensual sex, Ennis interjects “I’m not no queer”, to which Jack responds “Me neither. A one-shot thing. Nobody’s business but ours” (Proulx 15). I would like to propose that here, queer fear catches up with the reality of their situation. While having sex, Jack and Ennis are not exactly worried with being perceived as queer. However, once they have finished, outside societal pressures creep their way back into their consciousnesses. This happens again, four years later, after each have their own wife and kids, as well. After having sex (again, surprise!), Ennis again states, “You know, I was sittin up here all that time tryin to figure out if I was—? I know I ain’t” (Proulx 26). After stating this, he expands and says, “I mean here we both got wives and kids, right?” (Proulx 26). Ennis, in my reading, is controlled by the fear of being perceived as queer, which is jarring and gutting in its own right.

In Brokeback Mountain, I would argue that queer fear originates in social context, here being driven by the requirement to fit in socially. However for Ennis, the need to fit in socially derives from early childhood trauma, seeing Earl, killed for the notion of being queer (Proulx 29). This ultimately catches up and manifests itself more seriously in hearing Jack has passed away. Though Jack is never explicitly murdered, for Ennis, fear has now embedded itself so deeply, that he wholeheartedly believes that Jack was murdered.

This leads me back to my title. We’re all trying to figure out what we are, only if it fits though. We have an understanding of how we’re perceived, in the same breathe, we also have the ability to filter certain facets of our identities for what is most palatable for others. Some of us, for job interviews to look more presentable, but for some, driven by queer fear.

Hope I’m useful,

Jay Walker <3

Hey reader, have you ever thought deeply about language?

How I put the letters c-a-t together and somehow you can connect them and have a notion of a cat I’m referencing. Surely the connection between the each letter in  language is harmless, right? While most may gloss over the question and agree quickly, I truly believe Eli Clare would disagree, and assert that words can bear a burden that can be only defined by those who identify with said word. Confusing yet?

To have a point of entry, I will be referencing Clare’s chapter titled “Losing Home”. Throughout the chapter, specific words are italicized, adding an emphasis to them and drawing the reader’s attention, such as queer, exile, class, dyke, redneck, shame, and embarrassment. Although each word has a particular definition and specific part of speech, each provide Clare with a sense of identity. At the same time, these words provide each of us as readers an entirely different definition that we apply to ourselves. Clare even says himself, “I know the definitions. I need to enter the maze created by dyke identity, class location, and white rural roots” (32). Analyzing this one sentence alone, Clare is well aware of what words mean, but, at this point, is unaware of how they feel as a lived experiences. I want to pull these words out of the text and ask the question of what do these words mean to you? For some, words provide a sense of security or a revelation for their personal identity, where Clare would sit in the argument.

However, this inadvertently raises a set of problems. What about when labels are used negatively? I can speak for myself and my own experiences. I would never know what it meant to be manipulated if I did not do the research myself. This label of manipulation, allowed me to come to the realization that I was in a controlling and abusive relationship for three years. I could have spent three years of my life putting my efforts elsewhere, and by knowing what was happening to me, I do believe I saved my own life. With this being said, I never want to be called a victim. I’m in a healthy relationship, good grades, in good health, and am the first in my family to attend college. I am anything but a victim in my eyes. I am not defined by my past relationships. The same way many in the LGBTQ+ community wish not to be defined by their gender identity, sexuality, or otherwise. So what? Does this mean that words mean nothing or everything? I wish there was an answer written in black and white to point to, but to be utterly honest, I believe the answer lies in each of us. For Clare, words are powerful tools, used by all. For me, words are tools, that I use for myself and myself only. I really hate labels, what about you?

Your favorite crime,

JAY WALKER

Why is that the case?

The very first line of Written On the Body by Jeanette Winterson is a question, reaching out to the reader asking, “Why is the measure of love loss?”. The speaker then spans into poetic prose, describing the dismal and unbecoming summer they have experienced. Upon first read, I was admittedly both intrigued and confused by this decision, but having finished the book, I can confidently say that Louis is dead, and that’s okay. And the reason why it’s alright, is because the trauma of her death is not restricted to just the speaker, but to us readers as well.

Based on textual evidence, I propose that the speaker, importantly ungendered and unnamed, uses their recountment of past relationships in order to process and grief Louis’s death.  The two places I will be pointing to most in the book itself are the first and last paragraphs, should you wish to refer to them yourself as well. I urge you to join me in analyzing these paragraphs, since they are some of the most complex and dense in the novel.

The ungendered nature of the main character in the novel, allows for the reader to envision themselves in the respective situations as the speaker. Essentially, this prevents any biased conclusions about the speakers experiences and views. Should the speaker claim to be a woman, men reading the book would feel excluded in some situations, and those who identify entirely differently would feel excluded from the start. Given this, the reader feels part of the speaker, because they can put themselves into their figurative shoes Throughout the novel, there are events that made me laugh (the closet incident) and that pulled at my heart strings all the same, and that effect would not be as dramatic if I identified the speaker with a gender.

Tying this in with the first and last paragraphs of the novel, I draw an importance in the speakers ambiguous identity and the relationship with the reader. Just as the novel begins with an implied You, it ends the same with an assumed unity by saying “I don’t know if this is a happy ending but here we are let loose in open fields”. The truth is, there is no ending to this story. Our speaker must continue through life after this novel is written, and so will we after reading it. However, grieving is a process that is tiresome. By losing a loved one, the speaker spirals in hopes to find answers, bringing us back to the first paragraph when they ask “You said, ‘I love you.’ Why is it that the most unoriginal thing we can say to one another is still the thing we long to hear?” This novel can be read cyclically, the way grief is cyclical in nature, starting and ending looking for answers.

The question being, why is love measured by loss?

Your favorite crime,

Jay Walker