Woven Memories

In one of Shani Mootoo’s interviews, she was asked, “Would you say that to some extent you are writing your “selves” into being?.. Audre Lorde refers to the ‘‘telling’’ of experience, and part of Lorde’s meaning in that phrase is the ‘‘telling’’ or the ‘‘relating’’ of parts of oneself in order to share the experiences”(110). While Mootoo sidestepped this question in the interview, the concept of being able to write or tell oneself into being (or part of oneself) is very evident within Mootoo’s novel, “Cereus Blooms at Night. In Cereus Blooms at Night the main character, Mala, goes through extreme trauma throughout a significant amount of her life, starting from when she was a child. We see Mala deal with this trauma in her own way, often secluding herself into her mind and into the past, “fortified by the night’s display she wove memories. She remembered a little and imagined a great deal”(Mootoo 142). Memories are usually things that we think of as set, of things that happened in the past which are then unchangeable as a whole, however Mala “wove her own memories” implying that she was able to manipulate strands of her past memories like threads along with new imagined events to create new memories for herself. Mala draws within herself to create a version of her life, a version of her younger self, Pohpoh, in a new narrative, with a new ending. Mala “thought harder of Pohpoh… I, Mala Ramchandin, will set you, Pohpoh Ramchandin free, free, free, like a bird”(Mootoo 173). Mala thinks another Pohpoh into existence by telling and retelling herself the stories of her youth until she cannot distinguish her original memory from her woven memory, the created existence within her own mind. Through these woven memories of her own design, Mala creates a separate Pohpoh and lets her free. Pohpoh’s freedom, her happy ending, is soaring in the sky, away from the rocks that strangers threw at her, the bullies, the whispers of people who knew what her father was doing and did nothing, and most importantly far above her father’s reach and control.  This Pohpoh was one that Mala created a happy ending for, a happy ending that involved her (Mala) saving herself (Pohpoh) by finally freeing Pohpoh.

While Mootoo may not have written one of herself into being in Cereus Blooms at Night, or at least refused to speak on that, her character Mala thought and told a version of herself, Pohpoh, into a new being in the freedom both parts of Mala desperately needed. 

Lucifer and His Spiders

https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/45047384-the-house-in-the-cerulean-sea

https://www.google.com/books/edition/The_House_in_the_Cerulean_Sea/O0iSDwAAQBAJ?hl=en&gbpv=1&printsec=frontcover

The House in the Cerulean Sea by T.J. Klune tells the story of a caseworker in the Department in Charge of Magical Youth (DICOMY) and his experience on his latest assignment. He travels to a unique orphanage with six children: Talia, a gnome; Phee, a forest sprite; Theodore, a wyvern; Chauncey, of an unknown species; Sal, a shifter; and finally, Lucifer (Lucy), the Antichrist. These children are all incredibly powerful, in a world where magic is considered dangerous. This allegory allows us to examine the traumas experienced by minority groups. Using Cvetkovich’s analysis of trauma in “An Archive of Feelings” we can examine Klune’s characters’ experiences with trauma.

Lucy is six years old, yet he needs routine reminders that he is more than his origins: “I learned once again that I’m not just the sum of my parts” (Klune, 105.) While Lucy is told this daily in a place where he is safe and cared for, the traumas from his past, even at his young age, obviously still affect him. We can examine the moments “of extreme trauma alongside moments of everyday emotional distress that are often the only sign that trauma’s effects are still being felt” (Cvetkovich, 3) in Lucy’s life. Lucy struggles to see his identity beyond the apocalyptic monster assigned to him by society and his heritage. He imagines this as his brain being filled “with spiders burrowing their eggs in the gray matter. Soon they’ll hatch and consume me.” (Klune, 155.) While this seems like Lucy’s everyday bluster hellfire and damnation, this runs deeper. His nightmares, filled with these spiders and their webs trapping (Klune, 244) demonstrate his continued trauma. Lucy believes that the spider eggs will hatch, and he will inevitably become what society fears: The Antichrist. These fears are exacerbated by the bigotry he encounters outside of the island. Lucy describes the island as “the only place in the world where I don’t have to worry about priests trying to stick a cross on my face to cast my soul back into the pits of hell” (Klune 109-110.) While this seems humorous first, it becomes a horrifying reality when a man traps Lucy, a six-year-old child, into a locked room and attempts to exorcise him (Klune, 245.) This type of aggression feeds into his personal trauma.

Using children such as Lucy demonstrates the horrific combination of social traumas, motivated by bigotry, and personal traumas. We as an audience cannot blame Lucy for being who he is because he’s six, and we are much less willing to blame children for simply existing than we are for adults. It is much more difficult to justify this bigotry for most people. Additionally, the personal traumas endured by Lucy and the others are made that much more tragic due to their youth. Their age also allows for a different look at how these traumas affect them, as they are more willing to express themselves and their feelings if they feel that they are safe to do so. This allegory leads to questions about why people face these forms of bigotry for existing and how societal discrimination and hate worsens personal trauma.

Healing

“Mala wished she could go back in time and be a friend to this Pohpoh. Shou would storm into the house and, with one flick of her wrist, banish the father into a pit of pain and suffering from which there would be no escape. With piercing eyes, she would pull the walls of that house down, down, down and she would gather the two children to her breast and hug them tightly, rock and quiet them, and kiss their faces until they giggled wildly (pg. 142).”

This passage encapsulates many themes presented throughout the novel and is in response to the trauma that Mala experienced with her father. She yearns to have a motherly figure in her life and someone to protect her, she created Pohpoh, originally her childhood nickname, to represent her younger, freer self. Mala seeks to protect Pohpoh and envisions her through this outside lens, disassociating herself from the harsh reality that was her childhood. The passage shows the importance of Mala’s relation to self, as well as her relationship to Asha. Mala is projecting these dissociative scenarios to show her compassion and empathy towards herself and her sister. However, because Asha is gone and the girl Mala once was is also gone, she can only imagine a scenario where she is her savior.

One of the major themes presented in the novel is the concept of healing one’s identity. Mala is often disassociated from herself due to her childhood trauma and is unable to form a complete identity that is her own. She describes her compassion and love for the two girls because she wishes that she had a strong protective female presence in her life and understands that a female role model is important. In the passage, Mala describes Pohpoh as if she is her daughter rather than her younger self. Due to the emotional and physical trauma that she experienced; she is unable to create the strong relationships needed to form a stable family but based on her dissociative states she is showing growth in that she understands the importance of safe physical contact. She says “she would gather them to her breast and hug them tightly, rock and quiet them (pg 142)” this shows her emotional capacity despite her trauma. To Mala, being able to “save” Pohpoh and Asha is a way for her to save herself, by showing that if she was put in this scenario as an adult, she would continually protect the two girls.

Identity and healing are two important concepts that we have seen in this class and in our communities. This particular passage shows the need for protection, and we often feel that protection from our origin family. However, the LGBTQ community often feels rejected and neglected by their own origin families, so they seek out their chosen family within their community. This is similar in the way that Tyler sees mala as a familial figure and how mala sees herself as the familial savior. We often find ourselves stuck in a repressive and negative environment, but with this adversity beautiful relationships often form as we grow and find our independence. Mala and Tyler formed a bond that was extremely special and needed for their personal growth.

 

“The Difference Between Outside and Inside”

TW: sexual assault

In Cereus Blooms at Night, trauma is a permanent obstacle for Mala Ramchandin. “Pohpoh worked on finding that perfect balance between being rigidly alert and dangerously relaxed” (143) Pohpoh and Mala seem to be one and the same. However, Pohpoh is the younger version of Mala, a separation of herself from the act of violence she endured. It is neither the innocent or the evolved version of herself. She is the hurting version of Mala, the one whose wounds are still open and lives with the anxiety of her trauma. Mala is the older version of herself, the wiser and protective sibling who seeks justice through means of physical altercation. Mala struggles with the wounds as she imagines herself  “wanting to to tear and scream into her father’s room” and “punching him in his stomach over and over until he cried like a baby” (143) This part of the reading is filled with the tension and internal conflict Mala and Pohpoh have. 

This is similar to the way we saw Geryon in the Autobiography of Red internalize his conflict after his trauma with his brother. The day after he was abused by his brother, they both went to the beach where Geryon finds an object he hides from his brother. “That was also the day he began his autobiography. In this work Geryin set down all inside things particularly his own heroism and early death much to the despair of the community. He cooly omitted all outside things.” (Carson, 29) The autobiography itself is a space outside of the event of trauma where he can explain himself, be himself without fear of judgement. Throughout the rest of the novel he describes himself as a red monster, a version of himself that is separate from Geryon. The four: Mala, Pohpoh, Geryon and the red monster are all versions of past, present, and future versions of themselves. The past versions of the individuals serve as guides to differentiate what is safe inside of their circles from what are the dangers externally. For Mala, Pohpoh is the preservation of her youth, her obstacle to navigate family dynamics and what it means to be a survivor. We can see that time and space in both texts is fluid despite the trauma being a constant.

Slow Steps to Safety

Hunger By Roxane Gay Chapter 53

Warning: mentions sexual assault

Hunger by Roxane Gay and Cereus Blooms at Night by Shani Mootoo both deal with sexual assault and the coping tactics employed to deal with that trauma. Hunger is a memoir about Roxane Gay’s body, the body that was sexually assaulted as a child, the body that grew fat as armor, and the body that is undisciplined within society. Cereus Blooms at Night is a novel and the character, Mala also experienced sexual trauma starting at a young age.

One way Roxane coped was marking her body with tattoos. “It was about me doing something I wanted, that I chose, to my body” (Gay, 183). The marks on her body are her choice this time and she gets to choose some part of how she is seen. Mala chooses to communicate through actions, not words. When Mala uses the English vocabulary, it is her choice to speak. Understanding part of the reason why Roxane gets her tattoos helps us gain a better understanding of why Mala stopped using verbal language to communicate. Both are looking for small ways to regain control.

Roxane paradoxically gets tattoos to lose control as well. She plays with submission in a controlled and safe environment, because she is handing power over to the tattoo artist. “There is a certain amount of submission in receiving a tattoo, so of course I’m very much into that controlled surrender” (Gay, 185). Roxane can experience what it feels like to choose submission. I think Mala plays with the idea of giving up control through her actions on page 127 where she follows her body’s wants and needs. I don’t think Mala was comfortable giving up control to anyone else. However, I don’t think Mala decides to give up control. She is forced into it, repeatedly by her father but also by the court. Mala is sent to the facility where she is strapped down to a gurney and where she is forced to live and be watched over. I think during those circumstances she is able to gain comfort in her loss of control because of Tyler but she was not seeking to give control over to someone else.

Roxane gets her tattoos for multiple reasons to help her cope with the trauma she has experienced over the years. Part of getting the tattoos is to feel pain, just like Mala decides to eat the hot peppers. This pain seems to be a technique to ground them in reality, remind them of how strong they are. “But every tingling blister and eruption in her mouth and lips was a welcome sign that she had survived. She was alive” (Mootoo, 134). The physical pain is easier to deal with and focus on rather than their mental anguish. Sometimes creating a different pain is easier to deal with. Both have to work through their experiences with sexual abuse and continued trauma. They want to forget the pain, they seek control, choice, safety, and acceptance. Roxane is a real person and Mala is fictional, but her coping mechanisms are realistic when seen through the eyes of Hunger.

 

 

 

Am I A Fruit Bowl?

Why is this fruit bowl always here? He stopped and held it by the rims.

It’s always here and it never

Has any fruit in it. Been here all my life never had fruit in it yet. Doesn’t

That bother you? How do we even

Know it’s a fruit bowl? She regarded him through smoke. How do you think it feels

Growing up in a house full

Of empty fruit bowls?” –Carson pg 68

The image of the fruit bowl in this passage is particularly interesting to me as a symbol of the self. I think of a fruit bowl as a vessel for a collection of fruits, usually a variety of different ones put together in one large bowl. The idea of taking bits of different fruits and putting them together reminds me of the intersection of varying identities; in the case of Geryon, I would say it could refer to his queer identity, racial ambiguity, presentation as a red, winged ‘monster,’ and the influence of his traumatic childhood on his identity and perception of his self. I think including things like his traumatic past alongside his more physical identifiers creates a more rounded (like a bowl??) image of who he is. Also, I remember Georgis stating that “it is likely that because his body is strangely marked on the outside, that his inner universal queer wings are throbbing with that much more pain” (pg. 165). This highlights the way different aspects of an individual’s identity relate to each other, and how certain social identities can make others more complicated– here, I am thinking in particular about oppressed/otherwise marginalized groups (LGBTQ+ community, racial/ethnic groups, etc) and how the combination of such identities (ex: Geryon as a “gay racially hybrid young man,” Georgis pg 165) can exacerbate the oppression or isolation felt as a result. 

Speaking of isolation, and this sort of societal exclusion, the image of the fruit bowl as empty in the passage above is relevant and representative of Geryon’s feelings of loneliness and misunderstanding. Geryon feels caged and “other” as a result of his identities marking him as different, and lacks consistent healthy relationships in his life (i.e. his somewhat detached mother, abusive relationship with his brother, and complicated relationship with Heracles). While I think these empty, lonely feelings can be obviously symbolized by the emptiness of the fruit bowl, I also think the fruit bowl can be imagined as empty in the way that it has this potential to be filled. I think the potential to be filled could easily become a sexual metaphor, but I was thinking of it in the context of defining the “self,” that this potential refers to a future opportunity to be understood (by others and in self reflection). The potential for Geryon’s life to be filled with more healthy relationships with others, alongside a more complete understanding of his own identity/desires/place in the world. 

I think the fruit bowl as an image of the self gives us the space to explore the role of queerness in this text. Particularly the lines “Been here all my life never had fruit in it yet. Doesn’t / that bother you? How do we even / know it’s a fruit bowl?” (Carson pg 68) lead me to wonder about the types of assumptions we make about people based on the way they look or present themselves. This could be in terms of gender presentation or queer-coding, but also about the types of labels someone uses (especially outside of the cis/binary/heteronormative expectations of society). I wonder how these lines might reflect Geryon’s thoughts about his own identity, particularly as a queer person; I am reminded of my own experiences with reflecting on my queer identity as someone who identifies as bisexual but has only had relationships with opposite sex partners in the past. The idea of using labels without “experience” can be a way of “other”-ing, even within the queer community. I think the question of “how do we even / know it’s a fruit bowl?” reflects this question of who am I, how do I identify myself, and how do I know? Georgis would supplement these thoughts with the line “taking account of the self is never a straightforward process” (pg 165).  I wonder if the question “how do we even / know it’s a fruit bowl?” is even relevant, if we are focusing on self-identification. How much does it matter whether others know it is a fruit bowl, so long as the fruit bowl knows that it is and is comfortable with its identity as a fruit bowl, regardless of whether it has ever held fruit before? Or if the fruit bowl only looks like a fruit bowl “should,” but doesn’t identify that way?

The Terrible Slopes of Time

Once Geryon had gone

With his fourth-grade class to view a pair of beluga whales newly captured 

From the upper rapids of the Churchill River. 

Afterwards at night he would lie on his bed with his eyes open thinking of 

The whales afloat

In the moonless tank where their tails touched the wall – as alive as he was 

On their side 

Of the terrible slopes of time. What is time made of? Geryon said suddenly

Turning to the yellowbeard who

Looked at him surprised. Time isn’t made of anything. It is an abstraction. 

Just a meaning that 

We impose upon motion. But I see – he looked down at his watch – what you mean. 

Wouldn’t want to be late 

For my own lecture would I? Let’s go.

Autobiography of Red, 90  

The moment before this passage, Geryon sees a list of names belonging to “professors detained or disappeared” hanging on the wall, and tries not to focus on any one of them in particular. He wonders, “Suppose it was the name of someone alive. In a room or in pain or waiting to die” (90). This thought plunges him into the memory of his fourth-grade field trip, and Geryon sees a connection between missing people, “alive… in a room or in pain or waiting to die,” and the captured whales, who are also alive, in an enclosed tank, their freedom taken from them, waiting to die. I struggled to understand the lines “as alive as he was/on their side/of the terrible slopes of time,” but I think they show Geryon identifying with the whales and their lack of freedom, and places him at the same point as the whales in their respective timelines. I imagine “the terrible slopes of time” as a mountain, or a roller coaster – beginning at the bottom with birth, climbing to the peak, and falling downward towards death. If Geryon is as alive as the whales are, and he is on their side of the slopes of time, does that mean that both he and the whales are on the downward slope, heading toward death? Is that how Geryon imagines his life progressing, as a fourth-grader lying in bed late at night – a captive in a cage, already falling down the “terrible slopes of time”? I’m reminded of the moment earlier in the text when Geryon, his brother, and their babysitter are discussing weapons, and Geryon says his favorite weapon is a cage (33). At various moments throughout the text, Geryon seems preoccupied with cages and captivity, and here he connects that feeling of being caged with ideas about time. 

Geryon’s thoughts suddenly jolt him back to the present moment with a question: what is time made of? I think there is a connection here between time, cages, and queerness, and “the yellowbeard” helps to put it into words. “Time is an abstraction,” he says – time is just a concept, with no meaning beyond that which people impose upon it. This imposed meaning, however, is central to existence within a cis- and heteronormative society. The yellowbeard’s next comment shows that although he recognizes time as an abstraction, he is still bound by its practical purpose: “‘But I see – he looked down at his watch – what you mean./Wouldn’t want to be late/For my own lecture would I? Let’s go.” The yellowbeard, like the vast majority of people, experiences time as a practical measurement of motion, which he has to adhere to for his own sake and the sake of others. I think Geryon, on the other hand, experiences time in a less straightforward, more queer way. In “In a Queer Time and Place,” Halberstam argues that queer experiences of time oppose a ‘normal’ or ‘standard’ timeline of birth, marriage, reproduction, old age, and finally death – Geryon’s “terrible slopes of time.” To a fourth-grader witnessing “newly captured” whales and suddenly aware that they will likely spend the rest of their lives in captivity, this ‘normal’ timeline may feel like a cage. However, the moments of Geryon’s adult life that Carson presents align with Halberstam’s ideas about queer time: “queerness as an outcome of strange temporalities, imaginative life schedules, and eccentric economic practices” (Halberstam 1). Autobiography of Red shows Geryon as an adult whose future timeline does not conform to “those paradigmatic markers of life experience – namely, birth, marriage, reproduction, and death” (Halberstam 2); rather than settle down, get married, have children, and eventually die, Geryon travels the world, asks strangers what time means to them, captures his life in photographs, and outlives the end of his biography.

Is Reality Too Loud?

In “The Autobiography of Red,” Anne Carson carefully articulates her words in order to question new perspectives on common ideas, through the main character, Geryon. More specifically, the use of single sentences at the beginning of each section encourages the reader to connect the remainder of the section to the proposed idea in the opening sentence. One sentence that particularly stands out is when Carson writes, “Reality is a sound; you have to tune in to it not just keep yelling,” (page 60). Although this sentence could be interpreted quite literally and straightforward, I think that it relays a deeper message. I think this sentence is a parallel to how Geryon feels about his reality. In particular, how he does not want to tune in to his reality.

Throughout the text, there are several instances where Geryon expresses how he feels separated from his peers. His childhood abuse, his way of describing the world around him through his photographs, his idea of himself as a red monster with wings, and his queerness all contribute to this described feeling of separation. Whenever Geryon describes his feelings of being on the outside, I kept assimilating them with the “sound” of reality. Particularly, how his reality sounded loud and overwhelming. This would explain why Geryon has avoided being in complete touch with reality and why he seems okay with being in his own world. It seems like he doesn’t want to conform to the norms that everyone around him seemed to follow. Who can blame him for not wanting to be a part of a reality that feels so excluding?

It is important to recognize how empowering Geryon’s choice is, given that not many people are able to find peace with their reality. Even though Geryon knows that he doesn’t fit into society’s expectation box, he still finds ways to make sense of the world around him. This is exactly what is empowering because it can seem impossible at times to not get sucked into the preset, unrealistic expectations for oneself, yet Geryon has found a way to avoid it. Why would anyone want to tune into an unforgiving reality?

Perception and the self

It’s not the photograph that disturbs you it’s you don’t understand what photography is. Photography is disturbing said Geryon.

Photography is a way of playing with perceptual relationships. Well exactly.

But you don’t need a camera to tell you that. What about stars? Are you going to tell me none of the stars are really there? Well some are there but some burned out ten thousand years ago.

I don’t believe that.
How can you not believe it, it’s a known fact. But I see them. You see memories!  

Have we had this conversation before?

Geryon followed Herakles to the back porch. They sat on opposite ends of the sofa.

Do you know how far away some of those stars are?

Just don’t believe it. Let’s see someone touch a star and not get burned. He’ll holdup his finger. Just a memory burn he’ll say
then I’ll believe it.

 

When Herackles discusses photography with Geryon, we begin to understand his ideas about memory and reality. Geryon has a difficult relationship with perception and throughout the book we’re forced to consider what it means for someone who’s considered a monster to interact with the rest of society. Geryon is physically marked with his wings and his skin as ‘other’ but he also has a different relationship with learning and with words. Photography speaks to him because it’s a medium which he can understand and control and manipulate in ways he isn’t able to do with words and language.

While re-reading this passage, I couldn’t help but think about the poem we read in class by Adrienne Rich, Diving Into the Wreck. Rich brings up ideas about longevity and mythology, and she really hits the audience with thoughts on memory and belonging. She begins the poem, “First having read the book of myths, and loaded the camera…” before diving into the ocean to explore, and the journey to the ship wreck she begins preparing herself with what she thinks she’ll need, and it’s only after beginning her journey that she realizes that she’s not looking at the wreck from an outsider perspective, but rather she is a part of it and has to confront it within her own perceptions. She ends the poem,

We are, I am, you are
by cowardice or courage
the one who find our way
back to this scene
carrying a knife, a camera
a book of myths
in which
our names do not appear.

 

Geryon develops through the story in similar ways to the narrator in Adrienne Rich’s poetry; by diving up close to the wreck, he’s forced to consider how he fits into his own story, rather than viewing his role in his own story as passive. His own mythos is only clear to him because of his work with the camera.

Spirling into the self

“This is the place. 

And I am here, the mermaid whose dark hair

streams black, the merman in his armored body.

We circle silently

about the wreck

we dive into the hold.

I am she: I am he”

Diving into the Wreck (68-74)

Some formal elements of Diving into the Wreck add to the imagery of a diver circling downwards in the ocean, such as line breaks that cut sentences apart creating visually longer stanzas. The idea of diving deeper and looking into the self in a more detailed manner is also supported by drawing out a simple description with the addition of very similar objects and details as in lines 83-86: “we are the half-destroyed instruments / that once held to a course / the water-eaten log / the fouled compass”. This description could have ended at line 84, but continues to spiral into the description of the instruments by introducing them. Rich does this on a larger scale in stanza 8.

This stanza adds new information, like the presence of the merpeople and the act of diving into the hold of the wrecked ship. However, it also repeats motions, feelings, and the reassertion of purpose stated earlier in the poem. Stanza 4 describes what the diver encounters upon moving deeper into the ocean, presenting a color gradient that is new to them and mentally and physically taxing. In stanza 8 this is mirrored in the encounter with the merpeople. Instead of color gradients, this time the diver sees the merpeople which represent different gradients of the diver’s self. Stanza 4 continues with the diver’s statement that they “have to learn alone / to turn [their] body without force / in the deep element” (41-43). This connects to line 71 where the motion is repeated in the silent, slow circle around the wreck. Back in stanza 5 it is shown that at this point the diver has lost track of the purpose of the dive, which is then reaffirmed in stanzas 6 and 7. This translates well into the imagery of stanza 8 because the silent circle performed at depth by fantastical entities and an absurdly outfitted diver come across as slow and steady, with time for distracted thought and interest in the other creatures, due to the rhythm of the short lines of the poem that slowly march downwards. Finally, in accordance with the statement that the diver came for the wreck itself (58) the diver and both their other selves “dive into the hold” (73), breaking away from the distraction of restating the purpose and circling and moving back into description and understanding with the affirming statement of “I am she: I am he” (74). The longer, more detailed description of the dive in stanzas 1-7 paired with the shorter, more general experience of it shown in stanza 8 allows the diver to shift through many details at the micro and macro level, while also compounding the feeling that the poem spirals continuously in on itself just as an exploration of self does.