Sarah Ganzenmuller AP Lit Summer Blog Post #5

Gilead: Blog 1

Sarah Ganzenmuller 

Friday, August 29, 2014

Due to the fact that the book Gilead by Marilynne Robinson is a lengthy well thought out letter written by Reverend John Ames of his life history, addressed to his son in anticipation of his death, one thing becomes immediately evident. It is clear that John, the narrator, cares a great deal about family, and developing deep connections and a profound relationship with his son, similar to the one he and his own father had. When addressing his father he has nothing but the uttermost respect and admiration, looking up to him as both a man and priest. This strong father-son relationship directly effects the readers understanding of his character.

When Edward, the narrators older brother, came home after going away for a while he claimed that believing in god was childish. This was nearly a direct insult to both boys father, a devoted priest whose life centered around his religion. The narrator recalled that after Edwards eviction his mother told him, “If you ever spoke to your father that way, it would kill him”(Robinson 27). To this he soon remarked “In fact, my thought was always to defend my father. I believe I have done just that,” (27). Understanding this family dynamic gives reason for Johns fervent pursuit of god driven by his intentions to please his father. John grew up to see what a disappointment, despite his extreme intelligence, Edward was to his father, who John soon swore he would do right by. This, above anything else, illuminates specifically Johns loyal character, and his devotion to the people he loves.

           Despite this obvious similarity John often fixates on the elusive differences between the two men’s approach to preaching. He accounts that his father preached from notes, while almost shamefully admits that he has to write his whole sermons out. John is amazed at his fathers ability to create the magnificent sermons he did given with such a powerful delivery on the spot. This accentuates Johns modesty in a rather subtle way. John constantly downplays his own significance, while giving his father all the credit in the world. Although John believes he has defended his father, it becomes clear that he doesn’t necessarily believe he has lived up to him, which through indirect references and stories is clearly not the case. This leads one to see the self doubt in John, which keeps him from ever expressing outright how special he really is. 

John sticks to his word, and follows in his father’s footsteps to grow up to be a minister, living by the same scriptures and principles. Religion played a predominate role in both mans life, effecting and persuading both men in ways nothing else would. Both felt a sense of commitment and obligation to God. John and his father are and were united by their pursuit of religion. When traveling together John recalls strangers immediately recognizing his father as a preacher. He describes their ability to identify his father immediately, and soon acknowledges that people do the same to him now, saying “And they could tell he was a preacher, rough-looking as we were a few days into our desert wanderings, as he called them(…) I have had the same experience many times, and I have wondered about it, too” (16). It is clear here that both men carry themselves in such away, exuding the same kind of light which separates them from the rest. 

         

John frequently recalls fond stories and memories he has of his father. One particular trip they took together to find his grandfather’s grave is mentioned often. He recollects the night they stood at the grave, admiring the alignment of the setting moon and rising sun. That night is father told him that everyone had the privilege to observe the same thing. John considers the situation and claims, “I realized my father would have meant that the sun and moon aligned themselves as they did with no special reference to the two of us. He never encouraged any talk about visions or miracles, except the ones in the Bible” (48). In other words this setting and rising of the sun and moon, something that was so magnificent and beautiful at the moment, something that seemed like a private show just for them, was no miracle. You can sense Johns resistance to this specific belief of his fathers more than anything else, but soon you find he succumbs to most everything his father tells him, as later it is claimed when preaching about miracles he said similar things to his dad. This little moment, and potential disgreement, though small and seemingly insignificant, shows that maybe there is a little more to John then he lets on. It is my belief that John had his own views on things that differed immensely from his dads, but they were quickly disregarded and set aside to please his father. This may be the one unhealthy tint in their relationship, as it may be Johns father had too much of an influence on him. This underlying complication is what shows maybe a weaker side to John, and his easily persuaded philosophies and lack of resistance to things deep down he might disagree with. 

Sarah Ganzenmuller AP Lit Summer Blog Post #4

Charming Billy: Blog 2 

Sarah Ganzenmuller

Wednesday, August 13, 2014

In Charming Billy, Alice McDermott successfully manages to create several well rounded, in depth characters. She uses many different technics to display their character through actions, their own words, and what other people say about them, their personality seems to come to life. Most of the men in the story have glowing, warm personalities that consume you whole. There is Billy, a fun loving, caring man, there is Dennis, loyal and compassionate, and then there is Dennis’ dad, ebullient, loquacious and generous. Yet the women are shed in a rather darker light, Dennis mom being harshly realistic and materialistic, looking to her second marriage as a sound investment, then there is Eva, Billy’s first true love, who kept the money he worked hard for instead of using it to travel back to the states and see him. Whether good or bad, all of these characters are blooming with some sort of spirit or individuality, whether they ooze warmth or something colder they have many moving parts, can be unpredictable, and looked at from many different points of view. And then there is Maeve.

Maeve is constantly described as plain and boring. The lack of personality she encompasses is almost frustrating. Yet she is terribly misunderstood, and not given enough credit by those who surround her. The one testimony to her character is her courage, “but the courage it took to look out onto life from a face as plain as butter: pale, downy skin and bland blue eyes, faded brown hair cut short as a nuns and dimmed with gray. Only a touch of powder and of lipstick, only a wedding band and a small pearl ring for adornment.” (McDermott 5) This simplicity is evidently by choice. If she wore more red lipstick, kept her hair long, wore bolder jewelry her supposed dullness would quickly be adverted. Yet flashy isn’t something Maeve aspired to be. Attention was simply not something she craved. While the author describes her features in a rather monotonous way, pale skin is beautiful, and brown hair and blue eyes as well. Maeve didn’t believe she deserved to be beautiful, and I also believe she didn’t believe she deserved to be truly loved. People say that we accept the love we think we deserve, and this is exactly Maeve’s case. She grew up with a drunken father, one who didn’t treat her as well as he should have. She then married another drunkard, wonderful as he was, Billy was inevitably broken, and Maeve knew it. But she was perfectly happy to love him even if she didn’t necessarily receive the same type of love in return, because this wasn’t something she was used to, it wasn’t something she thought possible. She spent her life taking care and loving others, never expecting anything in return.    

Another thing the other characters failed to marvel at was her sheer determination. After countless nights of dragging both her incoherent father and husband into their beds, she remained balanced, stable. Even her determination to win Billy over was something. She admitted to tossing her fathers shoes down an incinerator more than once just to have an excuse to go to the shoe store and see him. She even took a trip by herself, a true indication of her bravery, so she could see Billy. Yet through all of the tragedy in Maeve’s life with her mother dying, her father and then husband’s alcoholism she remains, on the outside, unaffected. She keeps her emotions bottled up, barely crying at Billy’s funeral. After the funeral at Maeve’s house Dennis takes the dog from a walk, and his return causes quite a stir. Maeve mistakes Dennis for Billy returning home, and finally she lets go of all of the emotions she grasped so tightly, yet she is still described as stark. “Maeve shook her head, her hand now on her heart. ‘I thought it was Billy,’ she said a third time. Even the bit of lipstick shed worn earlier in the day was gone and her simple housecoat was colorless, white and beige. She seemed as plain as a blank page.” (168) Following this Maeve cries, and proceeds to throw up, soon launching into stories about Billy. It seems extremely unfair to label Maeve as this plain dull thing, when she expressed so much emotion. It gets me frustrated and annoyed, and I sympathize for Maeve and how misunderstood she is. This is exactly what McDermott wants. Strategically by overemphasizing Maeve’s plainness she illuminates what makes her so special, and interesting. She makes you feel for her in ways you may not have had she just given you Maeve’s true description herself.  And thankfully, after a rather depressing book, it ends on a nice note. Dennis and Maeve soon realize that it was more than just their deep, unedifying love for Billy that bound them together. It was right under our nose the whole time, Dennis and Maeve’s compatibility shown during the many nights Dennis would help Maeve lift Billy off the floor. Finally Maeve found a love that could lift her up rather than drag her down.