English

Home > English > Extension 1 > Module B: Texts and Ways of Thinking > Elective 3: Navigating the Global > Navigating the Global

Navigating the Global

This material was written by John Turner, Concord High School

I am indebted to David Eldridge for his substantial contribution to the understanding of the previous incarnation of this elective, Retreat From the Global. I would like to thank him for the gracious gesture of allowing me to freely update, modify and adapt his original, significant contribution. Some sections have been modified and retained, others substantially reworked, some have been deleted. I consider the material below to be a collaborative exercise designed to assist students in their understanding of this elective.

John Turner, Concord High School

Understanding the Syllabus
Elective Rubric from the HSC 2009-2012 Prescriptions document
Understanding the ‘global’ and the ‘local’
Unpacking key phrases from the Syllabus rubric
Definitions
Texts of your own choosing
Prescribed Texts

Understanding the Syllabus

Module B

This module requires students to explore and evaluate a selection of texts relating to a particular historical period. It develops their understanding of the ways in which scientific, religious, philosophical or economic paradigms have shaped and are reflected in literature and other texts, various representations of events, personalities or situations. Students evaluate how medium of production, textual form, perspective and choice of language influence meaning. The study develops students’ understanding of the relationships between representation and meaning.

In this Elective students are required to study at least two of the prescribed print texts and one other prescribed text as well as other texts of their own choosing. In their responding and composing they explore the relationships between the global and the local and the significance of these relationships to the life of the individual and their community.

Elective Rubric from the HSC 2009-2012 Prescriptions document

Elective 3: Navigating the Global
In the late 20th century and early 21st century, the development towards a global culture has blurred traditional concepts and boundaries of time and space. Knowledge, values and culture have become at once global and local through the globalisation of communications. Choice and circumstance have created a range of individual and community responses to this changing reality: some have embraced or warily accepted it, while others have challenged or retreated from it. The ideas, language forms, features and structures of texts may reflect or challenge ways of thinking during this period.

In this elective students are required to study at least three of the prescribed texts, two of which must be print texts, as well as other texts of their own choosing. In their responding and composing they explore, analyse, experiment with and critically evaluate their prescribed texts and a range of other appropriate examples. Texts should be drawn from a range of contexts and media and should reflect the relationships between the global and the local and the significance of these relationships to the life of the individual and their community.

Analysis of the Elective rubric for key ideas

Analysis of the links between the Module and the Elective

* although texts of own choosing may be even more recent

Outcomes covered in this Elective

  1. A student distinguishes and evaluates the values expressed through texts.
  2. A student explains different ways of valuing texts.
  3. A student composes extended texts.
  4. A student develops and delivers sophisticated presentations.

Go To Top

Understanding the ‘global’ and the ‘local’

In traditional pre-modern societies, people lived in local homogenous communities that were often isolated from each other and were characterised by a distinctive – and at times exclusive – culture. This isolation was often characterised by geographical isolation, ensuring that the encroachment of the modern world often took much longer to reach them. Their religion, beliefs, system of government and general social organisation drew their rationale from, and were reflected in, that culture.

With the advent of the modern world in the Middle Ages local, more discrete and indigenous cultural systems began to make way for the global. The Renaissance and Age of Discovery, which saw the collapse of feudal organisation and the rise of individualism and the capitalist state, heralded the beginnings of what was to become – and what is still evolving – Western European cultural domination of the globe or, in other words, western cultural imperialism.

The Industrial Revolution, the European Enlightenment and twentieth century rationalism (which promised a universal human culture built upon a foundation of rational thought), United States hegemony after World War II and the technological revolution which has made possible the proliferation of media and communications networks have all accelerated the erosion of traditional boundaries, destabilised traditional notions of ethnicity and nationhood and provided a never ending series of culture shocks to local communities.

In the late twentieth century the collapse of communism has led some to trumpet the triumph of western liberal democracy. The Marxist notion that history is a struggle centred on the divisions – political, social and economic – between the classes is the ideological underpinning of communism. The reasoning (logical or otherwise) here is that if the practical application of Marxist theoretical discourse fails then the ideological assumptions themselves are flawed. The notion of western liberal democracy erasing all divisions through economic prosperity is predicated upon the myth of continual economic growth and expansion: the most recent events of the Global Financial Crisis demonstrate the fragility of the myth of capitalism as a stable and secure world order.

The American political theorist, Francis Fukuyama, has written that as a result of this triumph, history has reached its logical conclusion and therefore has ended: ideological conflict need never occur again, and Western liberal capitalism can be seen as a benign global order. Critics of Fukuyama suggest that we have a new global political paradigm that is a system of exploitation and suppression by a greedy capitalist class masquerading as benign liberal democrats. The notion that individual entrepreneurialism and market-oriented competition are ‘good’ for the world’s populations at large has been widely rejected and has even resulted in militant opposition such as occurred on the streets of London in 2009. We are seeing an increasingly organised opposition to the claims that a free-market global economy is fair and equal.

Globalisation, then, as a late twentieth century and early twenty-first century phenomenon can be defined by an increasingly unified world market, assisted by new technologies, that transcends national boundaries and creates a world-wide culture as opposed to a culture based on localities or nations. It also reflects the confident embrace of a scientific, rationalist world view that reduces human culture to a set of observable, empirically verifiable and predictable facts. As Vaclav Havel puts it: ‘man as an observer is becoming completely alienated from himself as being.’

Globalisation has also revealed that borders (both physical and metaphysical) are merely social constructs – and as such can be easily reconstructed or even erased. Perhaps even more crucially and disconcertingly for some, because there are so many versions of reality or ‘truths’ out there, truth itself has become a social construct. ‘Truth is’, as Richard Rorty puts it, ‘made rather than found’.

The quest for universal understanding – and the work of creating a global culture – goes on; however, the scale changes and the perspective shifts. What’s happening now is in many ways similar to what happened a few centuries ago when people were exploring the planet: they kept discovering they lived in a wider world and had to continually re-draw their maps. The world that had once been flat became round; then it became larger, and old world views were regularly discarded. People invented new structures of reality to help them comprehend the world; the art of cartography made great strides during this period of exploration, and the fictitious lines of latitude and longitude became as important to navigators as the oceans and the winds. This navigational exploration and cartographical mapping of the earth’s surface played an utterly central role in the imperial expansionism of Spain and England (to name a few).

In terms of what humans are discovering now, of how we set about mapping and understanding the borders and limits of the modern world, it’s useful to take into account Ernest Becker’s statement that we are discovering ‘the fictitious nature of the action world.’ He argues that we are developing eyes to see that ‘flimsy canopy’ that hangs over human life. Others say we are discovering the symbolic universe, the socially constructed nature of reality/realities/culture. We construct subjective maps and legitimate various discourses that enable them to find something new and different about the powerful symbolic structures that shape our lives. We are beginning to see all manner of things – values and beliefs, rituals, ideas about childhood and death, traditions, interpretations of history, ethnicity, even the idea of culture – as inventions. This discovery itself – something that is becoming central to how we understand our role in the modern world – is becoming part of our common ground. It is central to an emerging understanding of the human condition, and also a central part of a new global culture which is, in a sense, a culture about cultures.

Go To Top

Unpacking key phrases from the Syllabus rubric

Note: Where possible students should regard the following comments as discussion points.

All references to Notes from the Marking Centre contained below have been taken from points where I understand that the ideas/concerns of the 2001-2008 elective (Retreat from the Global) and the 2009 elective (Navigating the Global) will overlap.

‘the late 20th and early 21st century’

‘blurred traditional boundaries of time and space’

‘the globalisation of communications’

‘knowledge, values and culture have become at once global and local’

‘a range of individual and community responses to this changing reality’

‘some have embraced or warily accepted it while others have challenged or retreated from it’

‘the relationships between the global and the local’

‘significance of these relationships to the life of the individual and their community’

‘Students explore the ways that values are inscribed in particular texts and how they are reflected by the texts They consider whether and why texts are valued in their own time They also consider why and by whom those texts are valued today’. (Module Rubric)

‘The ideas, language forms, features and structures of texts may reflect or challenge ways of thinking during this period’

Go To Top

The long piece underneath presents one method of examining various aspects of the prescribed texts; especially how you might go about linking ideas with detailed technical discussion.

Navigating the Global: Mapping the area

The debate, as usual, seems to have been hijacked by the discussion of economics. The protests and clashes between anti-globalisation marchers and the legitimised violence of the state are situated within a grander scheme of cultural imperialism, and this question of cultural imperialism is at the heart of a deeper problem. It is one that is decided in the popular media: through products such as television shows, fiction, film, global packaging and naming rights. A distinct cultural hegemony is exerted through the various arms of the media: it is one that is entirely driven by economics, and it is distinctly postmodern. What the texts in the Navigating the Global elective offer is an effective and cogent antidote to postmodernism, which in all its pretensions to be subversive and protean, has become the slave of global economics.

The divergent strands of cultural theory that are postcolonialism and postmodernism have inadvertently been fused together. Ashcroft, Griffiths and Tiffin argue, in the highly influential The Empire Writes Back, that despite a recognition of the relationship that exists between these two very dissimilar modes of cultural interpretation – where they borrow off one another if you like – the appropriation of specifically European literary theories into the local and particular is reasonably threatening. There is most definitely the sense that there is a ‘tendency to reincorporate postcolonial culture into a new internationalist and universalist paradigm’ (Ashcroft, Griffiths & Tiffin 1989, pp.155-6). Furthermore, postmodernism has actively ‘sought in recent times to reabsorb postcolonial writing into an international postmodern discourse’ (Ashcroft, Griffiths & Tiffin 1989, p.156). The cultural vacuum cleaner that is postmodernism is now the dominant mode of artistic representation: postmodernism can appropriate images, sounds and sights from postcolonial societies without fear of moral reprisal – nothing is accorded any value whatsoever so it doesn’t matter. Postmodernism flattens the world and removes history of authors, of depth, of centre – of the notion of finding meaning in the self. Take solace in the surface is the postmodern mantra.

In terms of literary representation, the more obvious exponents of postmodernism include such diverse figures as David Lodge, Steve Erickson, Janet Frame, Don DeLillo, Paul Auster, Tom Stoppard, Margaret Atwood, some of John Fowles, Thomas Pynchon, William Burroughs, John Forbes and John Tranter, to name a few. The reasonably strong argument that the texts selected for the Navigating the Global Extension 1 elective are essentially postcolonial texts - in the sense that they effectively navigate through/away from postmodern acts of representation – is central to our understanding of how these texts operate. They share a basic notion of restoring order to an otherwise chaotic universe: a chaos that postmodernity embraces.

The notion that the literature and art of postcolonial societies provided the underlying framework for the more formal experiments of modernism, and ‘especially those modernist texts [outlined here as Rimbaud, Artaud, Joyce, Lawrence and Picasso] which point towards the possibilities of the postmodernist deconstruction of the stability and authority of form per se’ (Ashcroft, Griffiths & Tiffin 1989, p.156) is argued at length by Ashcroft, Griffiths and Tiffin, and makes for interesting reading. However, what must remain is the sense that [modernism and then] postmodernism (although of course it’s really not that simple) has relied upon postcolonial society for artistic direction, and has used the resources of these societies to further obliterate cultural distinctiveness.

By way of defining how the set texts navigate global notions of postmodernism into something much more liberal humanist and conservative, examine contemporary Australian author and editor of web poetry magazine Jacket (http://jacketmagazine.com) John Tranter’s Different Hands (readily accessible through the jacket website – follow the links). Taken to a seemingly artistic reductio ad absurdum,we find Tranter experimenting in the field of computer-assisted letter-group frequency analysis in a small volume of what I guess should be labelled ‘short stories’: something like a computerised extension of Burroughs’ cut-ups of the 1950’s.

Postmodern in the extreme, Tranter takes Barthes’ notion of the death of the author to its logical place: the computer. The process Tranter went through in constructing the stories is fascinating, and is worth describing. Firstly, take two stylistically and very dissimilar texts, Forster’s Room With a View and Sydney real estate advertisements for example, and combine them through an ‘analysis of the frequency and distribution of letter-groups…the analysis was assisted by computer, and was concerned only with the letters of the alphabet and a dozen punctuation characters, and not with grammar, syntax or meaning…Then came the construction of a new text based on an amalgamation of the data and index tables of these two letter-group analyses’ (Tranter, 1998, p.7). Tranter offers thanks to the New Literatures Research Centre at the University of Wollongong for their assistance and the result is a story titled ‘A Room With a View, Spa Bath, Many Extras’. This kind of experimentation does not merely question the role of the author, or play with the notion of narrative voice; it completely removes the idea of a human consciousness behind the apparently dignified act of literary construction. Despite his claim that ‘most of the words in this final version are my own’, Tranter remains as a facilitator, as someone who is responsible for the conjunction of words which apparently mean something when they are placed beside one another. He does not appear as someone who has ‘created’ those words. (I’ve also used Peter Greenaway’s Prospero’s Books and Tranter’s poem, ‘After the Dance’, at the outset of the course in order to demonstrate the ways of thinking that I think do not underpin this elective).

These types of literary constructions are not too hard to see as diametrically opposed to Theroux’s conventional fictional realism, MacLeod’s resolutely beautiful narratives, Coppola’s version of romantic comedy, or Heaney’s resolute belief in the primacy of the self.

However, the diverse and innovative nature of postmodernism explored here by Tranter – a feature heavily attributed to, and yet preceded by, postcolonialism – is not present in Heaney, Proulx, MacLeod, Theroux or Coppola. Although there are no groundbreaking departures in form, style, direction or purpose in these texts, this is not to argue that they are devoid of literary merit or consideration.

The initial idea that the debate concerning what constitutes Navigating the Global should somehow be connected to images of anti-globalisation and Naomi Klein’s No Logo becomes important in contextualising the texts set for study. The argument which posits Klein’s text, along with such things as the television series Always Greener and SeaChange,as viable related material for this elective demeans and renders pointless many of the very ideas the composers set for study are arguing for. The four texts utilise utterly traditional modes of representing their ideas (despite claims to the contrary from some fervent advocates of The Shipping News) in their act/s of navigating the experiments of postmodernism. In this sense they are also resisting the global, resisting the overwhelming forces of a pre/dominant Western artistic ideology.

We must ask ourselves very carefully what exactly the connections are between anti-globalisation protests at the World economic Forum and the structural poetics of Seamus Heaney. We must ask ourselves if the ‘slow food’ movements in Europe are appropriate to compare to the narrative fluidity of MacLeod. The notion of resistance to global forces – Coca-Cola and Big Macs versus poetry – is one common thread: however, we must explore the more literary aspects of how these composers ‘navigate’, not just what they are thematically opposing.

Certainly Heaney has a great deal of resistance to the lack of a centre, to the depthlessness inherent in postmodern thought, and he vehemently reasserts the notion of self - of discovery through self - throughout many of his well known poems. These tenets of liberal humanism sit oddly with the assertion of resistance to authority, and this is a tension which is at the heart of all the set texts: they are firmly rooted in traditional aspects of construction, structure, image and form, and thus comply and conform to an agenda which contemporary postmodernism has sought to dismantle.

To argue that the spirit of the English syllabus moves away from detailed textual analysis, thus locating the structure and significance of such a powerful poet as Heaney outside of a poetic context is to give in to what we are being told the debate is about in the media: it is to downgrade our examination of literature to its lowest common denominator. Heaney’s refusal to give in to localised political or emotional debates is the source of a great deal of tension in his poetry, indeed he often questions why they are not being examined. What Heaney’s poetry does achieve is an examination of the poetic impulse, of where inspiration comes from, of what the proper subjects for poetic examination are. At the same time it is an explicit rejection of contemporary poetic form and style: he embraces the poetry of his cultural forbears, connects himself to the larger movements contained within Irish poetic substance and form. Central to his poetry is the notion that we must retreat into the past to find the self, and it is only through the self that we can attempt to alter the present and the future; this is the thematic thrust, but it is also the stylistic thrust.

Heaney coheres to his Irish roots in the pastoral, lyric form of delivery (most notably in his early poems – those on the text list) as well as more contemporary ancestors such as Patrick Kavanagh and Yeats. Two of the most recent inclusions on the prescribed text list, ‘The Strand at Lough Beg’ and ‘Casualty’ work within, borrow from, modify and essentially navigate, respectively, Dantean and Yeatsian poetics. ‘Granite Chip’ (not a prescribed poem) from the collection Shelf Life gives an interesting insight into Heaney’s perception of Joycean (and indeed Shakespearean) indebtedness:

Houndstooth stone. Aberdeen of the mind.
Saying an union in the cup I’ll throw
I have hurt my hand, pressing it hard around
this bit hammered off Joyce’s Martello
Tower, this flecked insoluble brilliant
I keep but feel little in common with…

Helen Vendler accurately points out Heaney’s debt to Joyce in terms of the relationship he has with his subject matter: ‘one of intimacy paired with detachment, of affection modulated by scorn, of absorbed traditions stimulating radical invention.’ (Vendler, 1999, p.98) Elsewhere, we can trace the influence of Hardy’s subject matter and style, pinpointed in Heaney’s ‘The Birthplace’ as The Return of the Native, but one could equally look at any volume of Hardy’s poetry. The poem examines a journey with a lover to Hardy’s birthplace, and becomes an examination of the processes of creativity and imagination: ‘the unperturbed, reliable / ghost life he carried, with no need to invent’ (Heaney, 1998, p. 223). The notion inherent here is that there is an established centre, a place where imagination takes root, takes hold of the earth literally and spiritually.

Heaney’s poetry relies heavily upon the sense that meaning, or indeed even lack of meaning, is a thing defined and sought by the self and produced by the self. He continually argues that there is a creative consciousness at work in the shaping, twisting, bending and hammering of language into what we perceive as shared meaning. In the same way that poets such as Lowell render the confessional, the singular and personal into something that defines the political and the public, so too does Heaney weave a poetic sensibility grappling and struggling with the problems associated with the attempt to construct meaning. It is both the almost overwhelming sense of the past that permeates Heaney’s poetry and the yearning for the anonymity of exile that are tempered by deep cultural roots.

The poems set for study come from Heaney’s earlier work, the latest inclusions coming from the 1979 collection Field Work, and they firmly establish his poetic direction. This is not to argue that he has significantly deviated from this direction, but it posits the included poems in a much different cultural and social framework than the much more recent The Shipping News, The Lost Salt Gift of Blood and Lost in Translation. A detailed examination of ‘Personal Helicon’ (Heaney, 1998, p.15) yields a wider understanding of how Heaney’s poetry works, and how it warns us against the excesses of post structuralism and postmodernism.

The title alerts us of an indebtedness to Greek mythology, Helicon being a mountain in Greece sacred to the muses: Heaney immediately outlines to that the wells of his childhood are the source of his adult poetic inspiration. The symbolism inherent in the well itself, as a guide to the inner self, self-reflection and self analysis is something that Heaney sees as specifically linked to the experience of childhood. The sense that we get throughout many of Heaney’s poems is of someone grappling to recapture the innocence of childhood with the knowledge of the harsher realities of the adult world. The explicitly romantic notion of understanding the world through the innocence of a pre-linguistic state (see Malouf’s An Imaginary Life, published 1978), or experiences outside of language, in order to understand our present notions of self and thus move society forward, is something Heaney taps into in this poem.

Heaney’s depiction of a range of wells that he encountered as a child is recreated through what can only be described as weaving a ‘strong gauze of sound’ [from the poem ‘Death of a Naturalist’ (Heaney, 1998, p.5)]. The accumulation and repetition of sounds creates a unified strength in the poem, as does the simple abab rhyme set up in the rhythmic quatrains and decasyllabic lines. Heaney’s extraordinary control over form and sound illustrates a greater sense of control over subject matter, over experience, over meaning.

In the first stanza he outlines how ‘I loved the dark drop, the trapped sky, the smells / Of waterweed, fungus and dank moss’ and the alliteration of ‘dark drop’ sends us down into the well, the sharp onomatopoeic ‘o’ softened by the ‘p’. The echoes of these sounds are found in ‘trapped sky’ where we are looking up from inside the well: the sky that Heaney is attempting to capture, full in the knowledge of the impossibility of it – just as his poetry attempts to do. The strength of the end rhyme in the opening stanza, particularly ‘wells’ and ‘smells’, is something which dissipates throughout stanzas two and three, which take their cues for rhyme from the softer ‘windlasses’ and ‘moss’. However, in the fourth stanza, the strength of ‘call’ and ‘tall’ signifies the change of tone which the final stanza offers with ‘slime’, ‘rhyme’, ‘spring’, ‘echoing’: a final set of clear, defined rhymes which offer resolution through unity and harmony of sound.

‘Others had echoes, gave back your own call / With a clean new music in it’ again illustrates Heaney’s reliance upon sound to create texture and meaning through internal rhyme, not only through end rhyme. The repeated ‘c’ or ‘k’ sound gives these lines a clarity and sharpness that Heaney searches for in his poetry: the crisp sound that is returned in the echo shows the transformational role that the imagination plays in the construction of poetry, again illustrating the importance that Heaney places upon the individual consciousness as creator. The very fluidity of the phrase ‘clean new music’ urges us to look at the inseparability of the poet from his individual creations. The ‘n’ from ‘clean’ runs us into ‘new’, while the ‘ew’ from ‘new’ is picked up in ‘music’. The crispness of the ‘c’ in ‘music’ takes us back to ‘clean’. This is more than simple alliteration and assonance: it exerts a strength in rhythm and balance that constitutes a belief in the ability of language to establish and retain meaning.

The final stanza demonstrates the movement towards meaning, and a contingent movement away from contemporary modes of explanation:

Now, to pry into roots, to finger slime,
To stare, big-eyed Narcissus, into some spring
Is beneath all adult dignity. I rhyme
To see myself, to set the darkness echoing.

Heaney’s argument is that to look inside oneself, to search for truth, meaning and sense within the individual consciousness and subconscious, is ‘now’ an act of childishness. Heaney’s poetry continually searches through the past, trawls through bog-bodies, through family and through history in order to make sense of the surrounding and internal chaos. Essentially, the difference between Heaney and contemporary modes of discourse and explanation is his refusal to give in to this chaos through the construction of poetry, through the construction of meaning through language. Postmodernism embraces - among many other things - chaos and produces works of randomness, of pastiche, of bricolage, of computer generated meaning. In ‘Personal Helicon’ Heaney outlines meaning as dependent upon the very effect of rhyme, and thus throws his poetic style into the past. This notion is consistent with his overall agenda (if one could call it that) of discovering ourselves through an examination of the past – something he paradoxically defines as the only way forward. The symbolic use of both ‘roots’ and ‘spring’ in this final stanza sets up a number of interesting connections with the concerns the best of the other writers in this unit: Alistair MacLeod.

MacLeod’s collection of stories The Lost Salt Gift of Blood is in many ways an extraordinary achievement - For material which follows similar thematic and stylistic concerns you could try John McGahern’s Amongst Women and That They May Face The Rising Sun. MacLeod is able to craft and condense lived experience into richly textured and layered stories abundant with sensuous imagery. His stories are reminiscent of Hardy (again), Raymond Carver, Alice Munro and possibly D.H. Lawrence in their unity of form and content: there is none of the formal experimentation of modernism, and none of the pyrotechnics of postmodernism. Simply put, these are stories that yearn for the power of the written word, the power of symbolism, and the warmth of shared human meaning.

The abundance of natural imagery in MacLeod’s work is typically used in the pathetic fallacy mode, and is something that reveals a dominant strain of romanticism. The opening sentences of his lyrical novel No Great Mischief illustrate this underlying sensibility: ‘As I begin to tell this, it is the golden month of September in southwestern Ontario. In the splendid autumn sunshine the bounty of the land is almost overwhelming, as if it is the manifestation of a poem by Keats’ (MacLeod 1999, p.1) What the opening sentences also reveal is not only the power invested in the narrator, but also that it is the telling the story which is important - rather than placing emphasis upon the act of writing.

Heaney’s insistence upon the primacy and importance of home, of the birthplace and how these literal places relate to psychological aspects of the self and the act of literary creation / imagination is something repeated in MacLeod’s prose. The story ‘The Lost Salt Gift of Blood’ is a microcosm that exemplifies MacLeod’s main thematic and stylistic concerns: the importance of the natural world in shaping human consciousness, the significance of family, the transience of the modern world, and the unimportance of material possessions. Stylistic traits include the use of metonymy and metaphor, pathetic fallacy, textual foregrounding, focalisation, deft characterisation and sensual imagery to name a few.

The narrator arrives in a small village he is familiar with, yet is unfamiliar in, and MacLeod uses his shoes as a metonym to subtly reveal details about this apparent stranger. As he descends to the water’s edge ‘after only a few steps the leather is nicked and scratched. My toes press hard against the straining surface’(MacLeod, 1993, p.61. All further references will be parenthetical): it is his shoes that define him as the outsider. Later in this episode, when he is given the rod by his son (a detail withheld at this stage and only gradually revealed to us) and he attempts to cast into the water he realises that: ‘In spite of the advice given to me and my own precautions my feet are wet and chilled within my shoes. No place to be unless barefooted or in rubber boots. Perhaps no place for me at all’ (63). MacLeod’s deft and almost backhanded skill here is to have the narrator reveal to us his knowledge of what footwear he should have on, and then to follow it with the statement which reveals his misgivings about his very presence here. This scene is foregrounded by a passage which reveals the significance of the narrator’s shoes, but does not explicitly extend the metaphor: ‘the small stones roll and turn and scrape beside and beneath my shoes and after only a few steps the leather is nicked and scratched. My toes press hard against its straining surface’ (61). This accumulation of narrative detail provides textual depth and an insight into not only the narrator’s insecurities but also the precision of MacLeod’s language.

The sense of geographical isolation is one that MacLeod associates with purity, harmony and human dignity, and the reversion to prose that echoes the romantic poets and Hardy is his stylistic navigation. The notion of a return to a pastoral idyll is one that permeates MacLeod’s prose, and in the third paragraph of ‘The Lost Salt Gift of Blood’ the metaphor becomes decidedly sexual:

The harbor itself is very small and softly curving, seeming like a tiny peaceful womb nurturing the life that now lies within it but which originated from without, came from without and through the narrow, rock-tight channel that admits the entering and withdrawing sea. That sea is entering again now, forcing itself gently but inevitably through the tightness of the opening and laving the rocky walls and rising and rolling into the harbor’s inner cove…the running moon-drawn tides of spring. (60)

The ocean itself is something which has literally come from the outside world, just as the unnamed narrator has, to penetrate and attempt to destroy the purity of this village; just as he did as a ‘bright young graduate student’ in the pursuit of knowledge and fame; just as he did in marrying the youngest daughter of the old couple depicted in the narrative. MacLeod uses the road here as a metaphor for the intrusion of the modern world in the same manner as he does in ‘The Road to Rankin’s Point’, it is the point where all things leave from, but it also the point to where all things come back. MacLeod’s prose reverberates with metaphor, and just as the road contains the narrator’s end and his beginning, so too does the story itself. As the young boy John reels in a fish and slips over on the rocks – mirroring his father’s own literal slip – the sea trout ‘turns glisteningly and tears itself free’ (63), prefiguring how the narrator himself metaphorically loses his son (or alternatively how his son escapes) to the purity of the village and the old couple.

In MacLeod the simplest phrases become pregnant with meaning, the skill of his narrative determined by his ability to echo the rhythms of rural existence alongside his ability to render these localised existences as an ‘everywhere [which is] immediately accessible to us’ (MacLeod, 1993, preface, p. x). As the narrator sits drinking rum over a game of checkers with his ex father-in-law Ira, the poignancy of the inability of male communication and the tragic end to an ex-wife and daughter (respectively) is delivered: ‘He mixes the rum and the sugar first, watching them marry and dissolve’ (70). The utterly central placement of the sentence in the paragraph underlines not only the importance that MacLeod has placed upon this notion of marriage and dissolution in the context of the story, but also privileges the very idea of the centre – further clarified by Ira as the repository of wisdom and tradition doing the stirring. After all, it is the grandfather’s values and traditions that the boy will maintain, the father is merely an impostor who will again vanish into a landscape that is oddly paradoxical: ‘the airport terminal is strangely familiar. A symbol of impermanence, it is itself glisteningly permanent. Its formica surfaces have been designed to stay’ (76).

The narrator’s attitude to the construction of his story resonates with the value MacLeod places upon the construction of the written word, and neatly parallels the above comment about airports. He seems to argue that while words themselves are ‘glisteningly permanent’ they are essentially symbols of impermanence1: the sensuous language and deft beauty of his narratives do not add up to much in the face of the mysteries of human existence. The role that superstitious beliefs and traditional songs and music play throughout many of his stories (most obviously ‘Vision’ and ‘The Tuning of Perfection’) is to provide something which transcends time and the laws of mutability, to provide some kind of understanding into a world beyond rational understanding and comprehension. To fix this understanding into language, into narrative, symbol and structure, is essentially to attempt the impossible. As the narrator of ‘The Lost Salt Gift of Blood’ states:

Oh I would like to see my way more clearly. I, who have never understood the mystery of fog. I would perhaps like to capture it in a jar like the beautiful childhood butterflies that always die in spite of the air holes punched with nails in the covers of their activity – leaving behind the vapors of their lives and deaths… (74)

It is this desire for a return to a pre-linguistic state, or perhaps here it is something that is actually beyond language, which clarifies the nature of the connections between MacLeod and Heaney.

As the narrative concludes, this sense of a return to innocence is reiterated: the children who race towards their father asking ‘‘what did you bring me? What did you bring me?’’ (77) stand in direct opposition to the stone that John gives his father directly after he (the father) has made it explicit that he will not take the child with him when returning to the city. The stone is of the ‘deepest green inlaid with veins of darkest ebony’ and has been ‘worn and polished by the unrelenting relentlessness of the sea and buffed and burnished by the gravelled sand. All of its inadequacies have been removed and it glows with the luster of near perfection’ (75). MacLeod’s point is that this type of localised purity is the only gift; he presents it as humanity without pretension or extraneous commodity, as a fierceness of community that defies the ‘uncertainty of the elements’ as much as it fights against ‘regulated urban order’ (MacLeod, 1993, p.192). MacLeod’s conclusion is that it is modern civilisation which should be redefined by a more crystallised form of existence found in rural villages, and it is this yearning for a pastoral idyll centred traditional representations of family and culture which firmly positions his narratives in the liberal humanist mode.

In attempting to re/define the notion of Navigating the Global it is imperative that the literal act of removing a character from a populated area to a geographically isolated area is something which should not be confused with how the author’s style – their individual methods of representing such ideas through structure and language – is a from globalised notions of artistic representation, from a dominant ideology of postmodernism which encompasses our televisions, advertising, and our literature. Certainly there are aspects of postmodernism that still attempt to subvert mainstream notions of art, but postmodernism is now more than ever a tool of late capitalism than an enemy. In demonstrating the significance of where the ‘navigate from the global’ movement has sprung from, and the distinctly literary backlash against the more obvious proponents of postmodernism, it is possible to establish a greater sense of a theoretical and stylistic movement. The students who undertake the Postmodernism elective are blessed with a detailed and extensive range of theoretical approaches to research and utilise in their responses, while those who undertake the Navigating from the Global elective have been asked to somehow meld world economic trends with literary technique and form. It is possible to take a more overtly theoretical stance in this module by adapting and adopting some of the tenets of post-colonialism, by seeing the movement away from the global as a reaction against postmodernism, and by understanding that this navigation is essentially a retreat or act of resistance – into a more or less romantic liberal-humanism. Globalised capitalism has hijacked and appropriated postmodernism to the extent that it no longer exudes a subversive and know-it-all charm; it has become the stuff of advertising campaigns, Hollywood blockbusters and Airport novels. The resistance to the institution of postmodernism which underpins the ideas in the Navigating the Global elective displays a return to traditional modes of representation and thought, a return to the notion of a localised self as the creator of meaning, and a turning away from chaos and depthlessness.

Go To Top

Definitions

Navigating
Navigate: from the Latin navigare (navis ship, agere drive).
Also: Navigating, navigator, navigable, navigability, navicular.

This key phrase is essentially one which in concerned with direction and steering a course, in all the literal and figurative senses. It seems to provide for a much more fluid sense of agency in its applicability to this ‘way of thinking’. The idea that the modern, globalised world is something that can be successfully navigated, mapped and/or negotiated is – perhaps – a positive way of approaching the difficulties of globalisation as a whole. There is most certainly the sense of having to make one’s way through the modern world and all its contingent difficulties; as well as the sense of having to re-map one’s localised place and identity: this is to be balanced against the sense of being able to find one’s way.

Notions of hybridity and fluidity are central to our understanding of the conditions under which this kind of navigation may successfully, or otherwise, take place. The drawing and re-determining of boundaries (physical and metaphysical), cartography, discovery, exploration are all central to colonising, expansionist enterprises – cultural, political and economic. And these concepts are all central to the prescribed texts.

Global
‘Globalisation is the process whereby individual lives and local communities are affected by economic and cultural forces that operate world-wide. In effect it is the process of the world becoming a single place. Globalism is the perception of the world as a function or result of the processes of globalisation upon local communities’ (Ashcroft, Griffiths and Tiffin, Key Concepts in Post-Colonial Studies, London: Routledge, 1989).

Local
A distinct community sharing certain values and beliefs.

Retreat
Negative – rejection, resistance
Positive – reassessment, renewal

Value
Noun: worth or importance of something to the individual or the community or the thing of importance itself (friendship, honesty, tradition, co-operation, loyalty, wealth, etc)
Verb: involves a judgement, assumption or belief that something is worthy or important

Paradigms
‘A pattern, exemplar, example.’ – The Shorter Oxford Dictionary.
The way that the word should be read for our purposes is that it describes a pattern or set of assumptions through which one views the world. There is no general, objective agreement about what is true, what is important, or what should be valued. Things such as these are negotiated – or indeed navigated – within social or cultural contexts. And of course different societies and cultures often share paradigms. When the syllabus states that ‘the ways in which scientific, religious, philosophical or economic paradigms have shaped and are reflected in literature and other texts’ you should understand that you are not grappling with notions of ‘absolute truths’ but rather exploring particular ways of viewing, or interpreting, these things. A very good discussion of paradigms can be found in Stephen Bonnycastle’s book In Search of Authority (chapter 4).

Go To Top

Texts of your own choosing

The issue of ‘other texts of your own choosing’ – or what the Notes from the Marking Centre refers to as ‘additional texts’ – continues to cause problems. Please be careful when citing texts, whether non-fiction or fiction. You are encouraged to refer to theorists in order to support your arguments BUT be careful when using the same material in the same manner as your classmates.

One of the Extension 1 Course Objectives is to ensure that ‘students will develop skills in extensive independent investigation’ (Syllabus, p. 91.): you should not rely solely upon your teacher to provide you with additional texts. Indeed, they may only provide you with a model of the kind of thing to look for. Markers want to see evidence of your own ‘extensive independent investigation’ – independent of your teacher, that is. Comments in the 2006 Notes from the Marking Centre should be taken very seriously as their repetition attests to the importance of this aspect of the elective rubric:

The 2007 Notes from the Marking Centre highlighted another significant and important issue with regards to the choice and use of additional texts, noting that weaker responses ‘dealt with texts of own choosing more superficially than prescribed texts’, with a distinct inability to engage with or ‘examine techniques in the texts of own choosing.’ Clearly, you should spend as much time engaging with and discussing the context, ideas and techniques of your additional texts as you do with the prescribed texts.

Students should acquaint themselves with the views of various theorists such as Jean-Francois Lyotard. He attacks many of the modern age traditions, or what he calls the ‘grand narratives’, such as The Enlightenment belief in progress, Darwinian evolution, Marxist political and economic history, and Freudian psychology for their limiting effect on human expression and endeavour. He argues for a politics of ‘small-scale’ narratives working from the immediate and the local and without aspirations to any totalising grasp of the whole or global. Modern societies which are committed to improving living standards and promoting technological innovation are based on the grand narrative of Progress. Lyotard would appear to be saying that a consequence of this worship of Progress is an authoritarian system that suppresses the individual and local cultures. Environmentalists would say that it is this worshipping of Progress that has led to environmental degradation and even placed our survival as a species at risk. Lyotard also comments on global communications and says because of our increasing capacity to bring fragments of the ‘far’ near and to incorporate fragments of the ‘past’ in the present, all knowledge thereby becomes at once global and local, timeless and timely. (See The English Studies Book, page 129.)

There are many ethnographers, economists, sociologists, philosophers, cultural theorists etc who can provide you with a theoretical framework for the elective. Remember Extension 1 requires that you employ a conceptual approach to your studies of the texts. The 2006 Markers’ Report states, ‘Stronger candidates revealed an understanding of relevant theoretical frameworks’. Other theorists you might like to research are: Ihab Hassan, William Ashcroft, Frederic Jameson, Homi K. Bhabha, Francis Fukuyama, Frantz Fanon, Edward Said, Linda Hutcheon, Helen Cixous, Terry Eagleton, Mikhail Bakhtin, Emily Apter, Helen Tiffin, Epifanio San Juan, Helen Gilbert, Gayatri Chakravorty Spivak, Ngugi wa Thiong’o and James Clifford.

Go To Top

Prescribed Texts

The Lost Salt Gift of Blood by Alistair MacLeod

These short stories all explore life among the migrant community in the Cape Breton area of Nova Scotia. This isolation provides a setting for the exploration of loss and personal grief as well as providing a context for the lament of a passing way of life. This sense of geographical isolation is important as it underpins the value of purity, harmony, human dignity in the face of adversity, physical hardship and the uncertain elemental forces of nature.

MacLeod refers to this localised or regional setting as ‘the landscape of the heart’. And in this way, these stories demonstrate an attempt to understand the world that is beyond rational comprehension; it is through narrative, symbol and structure that we can go into these ‘landscapes of the heart’ which are at once specific and universal.

MacLeod’s writing is not a cultural rallying cry in the way that Seamus Heaney’s poetry is, but rather a memorialising of a vanishing culture. He also portrays cultural commodification and/or hybridisation as unavoidable in the face of global forces. However, he also portrays the centrality of family, culture and tradition in the face of an ever-encroaching globalisation.

These stories underline the value of music, rhythm and harmony: these things transcend time and the laws of mutability. Local histories, myths and rituals are juxtaposed with global imperatives of progress and economic necessity.

The stories deal with the tensions that are a result of socio-economic realities of the modern globalised world and the local ties of family, community and culture.

MacLeod also articulates the pathos of social reality when people are caught between inherited responsibilities of validating and perpetuating the values of their local community and pursuing personal fulfilment within global contexts. Notions of longing and belonging and themes of return are typical issues addressed in postcolonial literatures. You will be able to explore these issues in all the prescribed texts.

]Like in all the texts set for study in this elective there is a powerful sense of place in MacLeod’s stories. This is typically a postcolonial concern and students should explore the intimate relationship between character and physical environment in these texts. A sense of place is important to MacLeod in geographical, psychological and linguistic terms – and this holds true for all of the prescribed texts in Navigating the Global.

You should engage in research which gives you a thorough understanding of the context of MacLeod’s stories, particularly the setting of Nova Scotia (New Scotland). The sense of displacement here comes through from the ‘Clearances’ in Scotland (by the British) which took emigrants to Canada (and other countries); this sense of displacement is continued as the modern world effects changes on their Canadian world: MacLeod’s stories deal with this sense of the characters being ‘doubly displaced’.

Look carefully at the prescribed stories and the way their chronology details the gradual passing of a way of life: ‘The Boat’ was published in 1968, while ‘Island’ appeared in 1988. The world that MacLeod writes about alters in many significant ways in that twenty year period – not the least in terms of his choice of characters, settings, plot; along with the values that underpin these authorial decisions.

Seamus Heaney

Before reading the poems of Seamus Heaney students should acquaint themselves thoroughly with the history of Ireland as well as the contemporary context in which Seamus Heaney is writing.

In Preoccupations, Heaney’s collection of prose pieces, he confesses that instead of breaking new ground he is ‘reclaiming old ground’. He quotes from William Wordsworth’s Preludes:

the hiding places of my power
Seem open; I approach, and then they close;
I see glimpses now; when age comes on,
May scarcely see at all, and I would give,
While yet we may, as far as words can give,
A substance and a life to what I feel:
I would enshrine the spirit of the past
For future restoration.

Heaney sees these lines as a confirmation of his own role of the poet as diviner:

Implicit in these lines is a view of poetry which is implicit in the few poems I have written that give me any right to speak: poetry as divination, poetry as revelation of the self to the self, as restoration of the culture to itself; poems as elements of continuity, with the aura and authenticity of archaeological finds, where the buried shard has an importance that is not diminished in the importance of the buried city; poetry as a dig, a dig for finds that end up being plants.
(‘Feeling into Words’ in Preoccupations, p. 41).

Heaney’s poetry does seem to be informed with this idea of ‘digging’. He appears to be digging to excavate and reveal not only his own personal past, but the past of his own language and culture itself. Heaney has said of The Bog poems that he ‘began to get an idea of bog as the memory of the landscape, or as landscape that remembered everything that happened in and to it.’

Heaney concludes ‘Feeling into Words’ with an affirmation of his ‘responsible tristia

I began by suggesting that my point of view involved poetry as divination, as a restoration of the culture to itself. In Ireland in this century it has involved for Yeats and many others an attempt to define and interpret the present by bringing it into significant relationship with the past, and I believe that effort in our present circumstances has to be urgently renewed. But here we stray from the realm of technique into the realm of tradition; to forge a poem is one thing, to forge the uncreated conscience of the race, as Stephen Dedalus put it, is quite another, and places daunting pressures and responsibilities on anyone who would risk the name of poet.

Heaney, it must be remembered, is first and foremost a poet: he is ‘in love with words themselves’ (Preoccupations, p. 45) and takes delight in ‘summoning the energies of words’ (Preoccupations, p. 36) and sees his poetry as ‘self delighting buds on the old bough of tradition’ (Preoccupations, p. 134). From these utterances it would appear that Heaney is valuing the intrinsic meaning of poetry as ‘art for art’s sake’ rather than art as an agent for political change. He does, however, recognise the inevitability of writing within a particular cultural and wider political context. Heaney sought to explain the political nature of his poetry in an interview:

Poetry is born out of the watermarks and colourings of the self. But that self in some ways takes its spiritual pulse from the inward spiritual structuring of the community to which it belongs: and the community to which I belong is Catholic and Nationalist. I believe that the poet’s force now, and hopefully in the future, is to maintain the efficacy of his ‘mythos’, his own cultural and political colourings, rather than to serve any particular momentary strategy and his political leaders, his para-military organisation or his own liberal self might want him to serve. I think that poetry and politics are, in different ways, an articulation, an ordering, a giving form to inchoate pieties, prejudices, world-views, or whatever. And I think that my own poetry is a kind of slow, obstinate, papish burn, emanating from the ground I was brought up on. (Interview with Seamus Deane, ‘Unhappy and at Home’, in The Crane Bag, No. 1, 1977)

The ‘ground I was brought up on’ features prominently in Heaney’s poetry. There is a sense of linkage between the land, the history and the self.

Students should be on the look-out for examples in Heaney’s poetry of a desire to protect and preserve traditions that are under threat. Early in his career (1963), when referring to the violence in Northern Ireland, he wrote that, ‘the artist is the custodian of human values, of sanity and tolerance and these are the qualities most needed in the North of today’.

So although Heaney was born and raised in the midst of sectarian violence, he has refused to be identified wholly as a political poet. Whilst there is a theme of violence that has plagued Ireland in his poetry; and the relationship between the Irish and the land is a central theme in his later poetry, many commentators have found a certain detachment in his poetry.

Go To Top

The Shipping News by E. Annie Proulx

‘I like it,’ said Quoyle, ‘ that the rocks have names.’ (Page 161)
In an interview with E. Annie Proulx (A Visit with E. Annie Proulx by the Canadian Broadcasting Company) Proulx discusses the rural and the local and describes the changes that are taking place in these communities:

I am very much attracted to social change, where things are beginning to shift and tip out of balance and roll into another form, reshape themselves – communities, outlooks, attitudes – and what I saw in Newfoundland… was a lack of choice in the ways to make a living.
She says this trend has gathered momentum since World War II as many farms and local industries have started closing down.
There is always a lament for the vanishing culture; there is always a feeling of a need to preserve what is disappearing, sometimes slowly, sometimes rapidly. There are places… where people have set up farm vacations, bed and breakfasts – come stay on the farm as a guest, as a tourist and you can shovel manure, pitch hay and so forth and do farm things and go back to the city refreshed by your rural experience. And I think a lot of what country and rural living is turning into is a collectible experience. It is putting a whole different, almost foppish, aesthetic value on landscape when you begin getting…entire reproduction villages…there is a period – an era - that is no longer extant, just the illusion of it, or the tools of it, the artifacts of it, so you have whole towns that are museums and at the far end of this is something like Disneyland which plasticises a number of cultures and jams them all together so that you get a sort of a culture sampler, a little bit of music, a little bit of food, a little bit of architecture. This certainly has not happened in Newfoundland yet but it could. There could be ye old fishing village with plastic cod being tossed into plastic bins. It has not happened yet but I suppose it could.

  1. Read the extract on pages 199 and 299 where Quoyle and some of the residents of Killick-Claw are in a local restaurant talking about the ruination that has been caused by logging and oil drilling, and the extract on pages 291-3 where Jack reminisces about the good old days. How are the relationships between the global and the local represented by Annie Proulx in these two extracts? How has this contributed to your understanding of these relationships?

    Annie Proulx very perceptively comments on the desire for many people to retreat from the global while at the same time maintaining a ‘presence’ in the global, albeit it in a ‘virtual’ sense:

    Who says it is noble? Is it the fisherman who says it is a noble calling? Is it the folklorist? Is it people from away who have invested the fishing life with a kind of romanticism? We have to ask, ‘Who is saying it is noble?’ Fishing is hard, hard, hard work… If it is full of effort then it must me noble right? Then why don’t we elevate the trash man to a position of nobility? That is hard work too… the label comes from afar. It does not come from within.
    People from other places are moving into rural regions that have great natural beauty and also for the ambience of … traditional values, whatever they are, romanticising a hard life, keeping some part of it with all the hardness drawn out. This is attractive to a lot of people. Because people are beginning to earn livings in some very different ways that make exactly that kind of life possible, and that is the computer connection, cyberspace, telecommuting, fibre-optic networks…A lot of people who are informationally wealthy are going to be looking for places to live that are clean and beautiful. Certainly Newfoundland fits that picture. You could indeed have some hardy souls who like fog and rain and black-flies moving to Newfoundland with their computers and working and earning a living and being in contact with far-flung corporations outside of national borders - a truly global set-up. This is beginning to grow …and happen in of all places in rural places… There has been a shift. The new people in the rural community… do not wrestle with the elements, they do not need the land or the sea to make a living…They are not of the land in the sense that the older rural people were. People who deal with knowledge, information, that sort of thing - these are portable occupations… That kind of social mobility is something that we have not known before. It is a new thing and it has a direct relationship to the rural economy and to who lives where…
    The weather lore and so forth – that stuff is being lost because it is not being learned by newcomers and that is sad. This is the real loss that we are getting, that kind of specialised regional place and landscape and seascape knowledge being able to read the place…that is real loss. It is change but it is also loss. I am sorry to see it go. There is no way to write that stuff down. It is in someone’s head, it is in their bones, it is in their eyes. All these things are exquisite fine tunings so that the human body becomes an instrument and an instrument that measures the things that must be known in the pursuit of making a living. That is indeed becoming rarer in this world.

  2. ‘Billy knew his way by a rhyme pulled from the old days when poor men sailed by memory, without charts, compass or lights.’(p. 175)

    Find examples in The Shipping News which illustrate the sentiments of the author as expressed in the final paragraph above beginning, ‘The weather lore…’, and comment on how particular ways of thinking have shaped and are represented in the book.

  3. Home and belonging are important themes in the book, as are family and community. And although the home is portrayed; realistically, with all its cruelty and blemishes such as betrayal, infidelity, incest, abuse and neglect, Proulx does seem to be saying that it is in the warmth of a caring, supportive family that positive values such as happiness, self confidence, self knowledge and a strong sense of identity can flourish.

    How are these values represented in the book?
  4. ‘Annie Proulx evokes the warm, supportive and generous sense of community that can develop as a result of a shared struggle against adversity and such hardships as the harsh and hostile environment of Newfoundland and the misfortune and grief of losing loved ones to this struggle.’

    Examine this statement in the context of the novel and other texts of your choice that reflect similar values. How has context affected the presentation of these values? In your answer you should identify and analyse the techniques used by the writers in presenting these values.

    Culture can vary according to the context in which it is used. For the purposes of our way of thinking it can be defined as the social relations, practices, beliefs and values which prevail in a community of people. (Literary Terms: A Practical Glossary, B. Moon.)

    The Newspaper is a cultural artifact. It reflects values through its reporting, letters and entertainment sections as well as shaping views through its editorialising and opinionative sections. These functions are informed by a particular political or ideological slant: i.e. the newspaper represents a particular version or particular versions of reality. Just as the relationship between the individual and his or her culture is a complex set of relationships, so is the newspaper inextricably embedded in that culture: both the individual and the newspaper determine the culture and are determined by the culture.

    The Gammy Bird is a salacious little rag with its formula of a car wreck on the front page, several sexual abuse stories, a restaurant review, the shipping news, and gossip column. It represents life as an exaggerated version of disaster or disaster about to happen.

    How do you reconcile this view with its owner’s, Jack Buggit’s, wise and generous belief in human potential, and his positive sense of family values?(You should also read the conversation between Quoyle and Nutbeem on pages 221-2.) Students should consider other cultural artifacts and practices and their interrelations, and explore how they function and what they symbolise in the local Killick-Claw Newfoundland community (clothing, cars, boats, gestures, activities, houses, food, festivals, crafts, music, folklore, language).

Go To Top

The Mosquito Coast by Paul Theroux

This 1981 novel by Paul Theroux is written in a chronological, episodic manner; the fictional realism evident throughout guides our responses to the novel – it provides a barometer for the accurate depiction of a series of events. Indeed, the dedication at the beginning of the text frames the novel that follows as something being positioned as semi-biographical:

To ‘Charlie Fox’, whose story this is, and whose courage showed me that the brave cannot be killed. With grateful thanks for many hours of patient explanation and good humour in the face of my ignorant questioning. May he find the peace he deserves in this safer coast. Naksaa. (p. 5)

Although the novel’s dedication is to Allie Fox, students should think carefully about the narrative strategies that are employed to position the reader to sympathise more closely with the narrator, Charlie Fox. Theroux’s decision to narrate the novel through Charlie’s perspective opens up several important and interesting questions.

The most obvious of these questions that students should immediately address regarding Theroux’s narrative strategies and how he positions the characters and the text as things readers are required to navigate seem to be: who exactly is navigating the global here? Is it Charlie or Allie? What role does ‘mother’ play in all of this? How is Theroux ‘navigating the global’ through various textual strategies? Remember, you should not just be thinking about the ideas that are being presented in The Mosquito Coast (which obviously deal with how a family navigate the global), but should also be engaging with how the various techniques that Theroux employs reflect and underpin his values.

The setting and historical context of the novel is interesting and well worth further investigation and research. Honduras has long been a disputed and contested site of imperial interest: the Spanish conquest of Central America included Honduras until independence was granted in 1821. The CIA website states that two and a half decades of military rule ended in Honduras in 1982 – one year after The Mosquito Coast was published – when a freely elected civilian government took office. Ronald Reagan became President of the USA in 1981; the history of the USA’s involvement in Central America is inextricably entwined with his Republican administration. Honduras was a haven for (American-funded) Contra fighters who launched anti-communist raids against the neighbouring Nicaraguan Sandinistas (representative of a democratically-elected government).

You should use this important, contextually significant information to further your understanding of how post-colonial societies interact with their ex-colonial cultures. You should consider how, or indeed, if, Allie Fox is symbolic of US imperialism in Central America. His explicit rejection of mainstream Western consumer values complicates this, but you should also remain aware of his rejection of many of the indigenous cultural practices in Honduras. In what ways is Allie Fox Theroux’s symbolic of the failed US military and political intervention in the Central Americas? You should look at this American military imperialism in Central America in a post-colonial sense: what is this novel saying about American values and the sense of localising these in a Honduran context?

Through Allie, Theroux clearly details the many problems that Western civilisation has: However, does Theroux position the reader to empathise and agree with this set of values? As narrator, Charlie seeks and gains our empathy and understanding with his access to greater narrative clarity. You should examine the text as a bildungsroman, with an emphasis on Charlie’s growing adolescent and psychological freedom from the controlling force of his father. As you think about the text in this manner, examine the importance of the knowledge that Charlie will bring back to America. Also, consider the sense of how Charlie is navigating the more global sense of masculinity and how he negotiates the western values associated with this.

Allie Fox in several ways represents the failure of older, more traditional American values; and thus his son is left to rebuild with the residue of these older values, he will carry them through into a newer, more stable and resolved society. Consider how Charlie very closely associates the inside of his father’s head with the inside of the ice-box ‘Fat Boy’. In what ways does this view of Charlie’s contradict or confirm how his father operates in Honduras?

Allie is the outsider, the outdoorsman who shuns the trappings of a junk culture. However, he is essentially racist (look at the pre-Honduran shopping expedition), although this is complicated by the relationships that he has with the Honduran farm workers who admire and respect him. Once in Honduras he (attempts to) replicates the hierarchical conditions – gender and class-based – of western society. He is the mercurial genius who badgers, cajoles, leads and inspires others. The nuclear family is replicated; religion, however, is vigorously dismissed as a rarer form of stone-age superstition by Allie. What value does Theroux ultimately place upon organised religion? Look carefully from Chapter 28 until the end of the novel.

Allie is a deeply flawed genius; he doesn’t reject Western civilisation, it is perhaps more that it rejects him. Our sense of him as a reliable and stable source of information about mainstream cultural values, among other things, is complicated by the revelation that he has undergone Electro-convulsive Therapy (or Electro-shock therapy) at some stage in the not so distant past. Theroux positions Charlie as a more effective and trustworthy source of narrative information at an early stage of the novel:

For a while, Father would not eat, and he was taken to the hospital. He called it ‘The Buzz Palace’, but came out smiling and said, ‘I didn’t feel a thing.’ He was healthy again, except that now and then he forgot our names. We drove to Hatfield with nothing. He liked starting from scratch. (28)

Theroux provides us with a very clear sense of what is wrong with modern consumer culture through the depiction of Allie’s verbal rants – the sense of Allie’s voice being his most powerful, vindictive and elucidatory weapon is portrayed strongly throughout the novel – and the final symbolic image of the birds ripping his tongue out is the acknowledgement of his destruction. Theroux gives us a sense of Allie’s navigation of modern consumer culture, but for most of the novel we are positioned to see Allie as a kind of monster who brutalises his children; he is someone who is driven and possibly recurrently insane. As readers we are positioned with the narrator, Charlie, to accept that his father goes gradually insane. This sense of navigating the global is complicated: this novel clearly directs the reader away from the simplistic and incorrect view of local = good, global = bad; a position such as this is most clearly understood by examining Theroux’s narrative strategies (most prominently with Charlie as first person narrator) and the structure of the novel (whereby the resolution points us towards accepting the inevitability of western culture as saviour). Charlie’s relief at the very end of the novel, such as when he is in the taxi-cab and it is ‘glorious’ (384) is complicated by the fact that this resolution has been provided by a religious force; this is further complicated by Theroux positioning this within the context of the narrator’s post-pubescent attraction to Emily Spellgood.

The novelistic structure builds towards the explosion of ‘Fat Boy’ and the cataclysmic results that this has upon the society/civilisation that the Fox family has built up; Allie destroys the machine he has built and implicates Charlie in the death of the three ‘guerrillas’. An interesting note is that ‘Little Boy’ was the code name for the atomic bomb dropped on Hiroshima, while ‘Fat Man’ was the code name for Nagasaki bomb, both of which were responsible for untold destruction in 1945. Theroux’s conflation of the two names is potent in its symbolic portent for the sense of destruction the explosion causes.

You should think carefully about what Theroux is arguing here. Is religion presented as a salvation to the problems of the modern world? If religion is no salvation and provides no way of negotiating the modern world – if it is too inextricably implicated in promoting, protecting and underpinning the values of trash/consumer culture, and can infiltrate even the most geographically distant locations – then what do we look towards to place our hope in? Capitalism is a culture that has inbuilt obsolescence, and outsources labour to countries that can provide a cheaper alternative: what then is the alternative? What alternative does Allie Fox present? Does Theroux present this as a realistic, rational and practical alternative to the modern world?

Importantly, Allie Fox is presented as a deeply patriotic American, and this is one of the main reasons we are told as to why he is leaving the United States. When he tells his children and others – later in the novel – that America has been destroyed in some version of apocalypse, he is only lying in a literal sense; for him the America he loves has been destroyed. This apocalypse symbolises the destruction of his personal world and mind, as well as his hopes for rebuilding civilisation in Honduras. Theroux’s sense of the failure of American (cultural/imperial) value systems in the Central Americas also has implications for your reading of the novel in a postcolonial manner. Theroux links the values that Allie takes with him to Honduras back into an older sense of American ingenuity and inventiveness that is perhaps best expressed in someone like Benjamin Franklin.

Theroux’s presentation of Allie Fox as a rugged individual, as some kind of Harvard-educated outdoorsman is deeply embedded in the myth of exploring and pushing at the frontiers of America which stretches back to the Pilgrims and later in the ‘wild west’. Fox, like many other real and fictional Americans, idealises breaking free of society’s grasp, battles the unknown/wilderness and carves out a new society based on his on own moral code. Ultimately, this is destructive and life-threatening – Allie is deeply insane by the end of the novel and carries the potential to destroy the lives of his family. Perhaps Theroux’s position is that it is impossible to fully escape – even if we are equipped with skills, seeds, visionary potential and imagination. We have become so conditioned into accepting the values of mass-consumer culture as normative values that to retreat as far as Allie Fox does can be nothing but destructive. It is an initial navigation away from these global values, but is also a navigation through them – Allie takes what he needs from mass-consumer culture to rebuild society (also gives us a sense of the hybridity of his value system). Also, Theroux’s positioning of religious values as pervasively intruding throughout the novel questions the possibility of (re)building a society/civilisation which is not based on a system of religious belief.

It is important for you to think about this novel in terms which are broader than the simplistic ‘Allie Fox and his family navigates away from a morally bankrupt and corrupt USA and retreat to Honduras and live in the jungle’ because this is only deals with the first set of ideas in the novel. One way of avoiding this would be to engage with the resolution of the novel: certainly Allie rejects global values, but his family are in the process of re-navigating these values at the very end of the novel. Charlie’s tone of relief and joy is unmistakable, and it what we are left with when they arrive back at La Cieba: ‘It was glorious even here, in this old taxi-cab, with the radio playing’ (384). What then, is Theroux’s position at the end of the novel?

Think of the global in terms of those older, mythical frontiersman values that have been bastardised, cheapened, diverted and perverted in the modern world: Allie is a more pure version of that older America, an America which cannot be sustained in the modern world. Despite his best intentions his charisma and rugged individualism cannot hold it all together – the strength of the self is not enough: the destructive elements of human beings encroach upon their ‘Eden’ and it implodes. Also, perhaps you could examine the notions of masculinity that are explored in the novel, and how Theroux narrates, navigates and interrogates the global discourse of patriarchal values embodied in the relationship between Charlie as narrator and Allie as narrated.

Other texts certainly provide some rewarding parallels with The Mosquito Coast.Mark Twain’s characterisation of Huck Finn as someone who ‘lights out for the territory’ has deep resonances with Allie Fox; as does our sense of Huck – and Jim – being free on the raft, yet heading into more and more dangerous territory as they drift downstream. There are also parallels with texts such as Herzog’s Aguirre, Defoe’s Robinson Crusoe (and the Swiss Family Robinson) and the myth of Prometheus; Conrad’s Heart of Darkness will also provide you with a rich and rewarding source of comparative study. It should be noted, however, that these texts are outside the period set for study and are not suitable as ‘texts of own choosing’.

Go To Top

Lost in Translation, directed by Sophia Coppola

This 2003 film examines the desire for connection and something beyond the surface textures of late capitalist culture, here epitomised by Tokyo. Two ‘fish out of water’ Americans seek refuge in one anothers’ yearnings. Contextually speaking, students should think about this as a post-9/11 film which locates itself within a city that has risen out of a post-Hiroshima Japan (that grew from that apocalyptic vision into one of the world’s economic super-powers). However, there is beauty and tranquility to be found within this culture, and this gestures towards Coppola’s belief in the ability of the transformative self. The city of Tokyo itself is obsessed with surface and Coppola explores how this manifests itself in language; desire, lust and love; fame, appearance, wealth; freedom and entrapment.

This series of questions is in the chronological order of the film. Some questions refer explicitly to film techniques, but implicit in each question is that you should be explaining the role that cinematography/sound/lighting play in the construction of meaning. Do not simply answer in terms of plot and character. When answering, think carefully about how these individual scenes contribute not only to the film as a whole, but also how the film itself demonstrates how Coppola navigates global discourses concerned with late capitalist culture, dislocation and alienation.

While answering these questions you should also think carefully about how to locate this film within the ‘Navigating the Global’ rubric: where are we positioned in terms of the ‘local’ here? How is the global being embraced or accepted? In what ways does Coppola navigate the discourse of modern film and the genre of ‘romantic comedy’? How does Coppola use the characters of Bob and Charlotte to examine the difficulties of navigating modern codes of language, sexuality, and connection in a dislocated/alien culture? How does Coppola position language at the centre of the film? How does she explore the relationship between the signifier and the signified through the clash of cultures and realities? How does she present modern Tokyo as the epitome of postmodern culture? Look carefully at the predominance of reflected surfaces and mirrored realities throughout the film – and then examine carefully if Bob and Charlotte are able to discover something that exists beneath that surface.

Think carefully about how Coppola’s film – as fitting reasonably clearly into the ‘romantic comedy’ genre (with some exceptions) – uses various forms, features and structures of film language to reflect and reinforce (or challenge) this way of thinking about the relationship between the global, the local and a defined sense of place.

Chapter One: Welcome to Tokyo

  1. Explain Coppola’s choice of the opening shot of Charlotte’s see-through underpants and bottom. Why does the camera linger here? What is mood or tone is Coppola establishing at the beginning of the film? How does it position us as viewers?
  2. How is Bob’s dislocation emphasised in the opening shot of him in the taxi? How does the shot operate/function to emphasise this alienation and dislocation? Where else in the film are there shots of characters in taxis?
  3. As Bob walks down the hotel corridor and he is greeted by several staff, the camera stops as he continues and we see several young Asian men: describe their appearance. Explain what you think Coppola is showing us about contemporary Japanese culture and its influences.
  4. Sitting in his hotel room the first time we see him, what is Bob watching on TV? What comment is Coppola making about the natural world and contemporary civilisation?
  5. What is significant about the exchange that the two ‘businessmen’ have with Bob at the hotel bar? Why does Bob leave?
  6. How does Coppola initially connect Bob and Charlotte (ie. before they actually physically see one another)? How are their respective partners presented in the initial stages of the film? Does this representation alter at all throughout the film?

Chapter 2: Charlotte Can’t Sleep

  1. Why does Coppola show us several machines that operate seemingly by themselves? What comment is she making on modern society? What does the scene in the shower demonstrate about Bob's place in this culture?
  2. How do Bob and Charlotte communicate in the lift? Why? Explain the mis-en-scene and how it works to position the characters in terms of their other-ness.

Chapter 3: Suntory Time

  1. How does the manner in which Bob questions the interpreter continue throughout the advertisement shooting alter? Why do you think this is so?
  2. What does Bob’s impassivity in the face of the director’s tirade tell us about his character? What is Coppola suggesting about the function and role of language in the film? Comment on the scene here – paying attention to Bob’s costume and set and how it compares and contrasts with the constructedness of the film crew/director/set etc.

Chapter 4: Charlotte Wanders

  1. Why does Charlotte’s visit to the shrine upset her so much? Examine the dialogue she has with her friend and explain how this works to establish Charlotte’s character and continue her trajectory.

Chapter 5: Premium Fantasy

  1. List the four shows that Bob flicks through as he watches TV in his room. What is the significance of each of these shows for Bob’s character? Focus closely on the film of himself that he watches. Coppola’s use of doppelganger/the mirrored self is developed throughout the film to comment on character in terms of self-knowledge: how is it developed here? What comment is Coppola making about Bob’s life? What is his reaction to seeing himself? Take note of the several other occasions that this technique occurs and comment on the significance on each occasion.
  2. What does the arrival of the ‘Premium Fantasy’ call-girl indicate about how Bob is perceived by the Japanese company he is working for? How is language used to confuse the situation and create humour here?
  3. Coppola uses alternating scenes of Bob and Charlotte throughout the film to compare and contrast their characters, it’s an interesting structural device. What symbolic function do the dinosaurs and elephants have for Charlotte and Bob, respectively?
  4. What comments does John make about the people that he is working with? How do they compare with what we see of the people who are directing Bob?

Chapter 6: The Photo Shoot

  1. What is Bob’s attitude to the second advertisement shooting? Why is he asked to mimic Sinatra/Moore etc? What comment is Coppola making about the role of fame and the mimicry of gestures and attitudes here?
  2. Why are the clips still attached to his dinner jacket when he is in the hotel bar? What is Coppola’s point here? How is this juxtaposed against the discussion at Charlotte’s table? How do Charlotte and Bob first make contact?
  3. Describe the function of the scene with the exercise bike.

Chapter 7: Kelly!

  1. How does Coppola position us to perceive the characters of John and Kelly as similar? How does Coppola use costume to contrast the characters of Kelly and Charlotte?
  2. Explain what resonance the CD Charlotte listens to has in terms of the overall purpose of the film? In what other scene is the CD referred to? What happens then?
  3. What kind of connection is stressed between Kelly and Keanu Reeves in the press conference she gives? How are we positioned to more readily accept Charlotte’s view of Kelly?
  4. What is being emphasised through the juxtaposed scenes of the ‘Midnight Velocity’ press conference and the Japanese flower arranging scene? How does Coppola achieve this? What aspects of Japanese culture does it portray?

Chapter 8: Jet Lag

  1. What is the symbolism of the movie that Bob is watching (with an old samurai warrior dying a painful death)?
  2. How does Coppola achieve the connection between Bob and Charlotte in the bar? What role does the barman/waiter play in this? What does their dialogue reveal? Focus particularly on the lives they want to lead and the actual lives they lead.
  3. Comment on Coppola’s use of sound when Bob is in the pool. What does this decision reveal about what is attempting to be conveyed about Bob’s life at that point? Compare and contrast this scene with the next one involving Charlotte and her excursions in to that zany world of Japanese arcade games.

Chapter 9: Drinks With Kelly

  1. How does John react when Charlotte wants to join him and Kelly for drinks? What does Kelly’s conversation reveal about her character?
  2. Examine the dialogue between Bob and Charlotte here, particularly Bob’s talk of a ‘prison break’ and the ‘accomplice’ he’s looking for. What is happening between the characters here? What is Coppola demonstrating about the power of language and human connection?
  3. As John leaves he tells Charlotte that he will be back on Sunday and that he loves her. How does he say this? What does it reveal about his character and his attitude towards Charlotte in particular and love in general?

Chapter 10: Night Out With Charlie

  1. Explain the symbolism of the white dressing gowns and the swimming that takes place in this scene. What does the dialogue demonstrate about their connection? How else is this connection established?
  2. Explain the significance of Coppola naming the Japanese friend/go-between Charlie Brown. How does this fit into earlier comments Coppola has made about the current state of Japanese culture?
  3. Describe the costume that Bob is dressed in for the night out with Charlie – what is Coppola suggesting about youth and how culture that is founded on youth underpins modern global culture? What role can an ageing movie star such as Bob play in this culture?
  4. Describe Bob’s karaoke performance. In what ways is it similar or different to Charlotte’s performance? Explain the significance of the lyrics in the songs they sing to their current situation/s.
  5. Describe the exchange of looks that occurs between Bob and Charlotte. Why is the scene outside the karaoke room shot in silence? What is Coppola emphasising about the developing relationship – particularly with regards to language – in this shot?
  6. Examine the symbolic significance of Bob and Charlotte crossing back over the bridge in the taxi, heading towards the Park Hyatt after their first night out together. In what ways is the scene similar to the first scene we see Bob in? Why do you think Coppola has arranged this similarity? What is the significance in showing Bob asleep? In what ways can we see Charlotte as a figurative bride that Bob carries in his arms across the threshold and into her bed?
  7. Compare the uses (or silences) of language between Bob and Charlotte, and Bob and his wife Lydia. What does Coppola suggest about the efficacy of language as a tool for communicating emotion? Examine Bob’s ‘I love you’ to his wife (who has already hung up) in the context of other professions of love during the film. What is Coppola suggesting about the ability of language to express feelings and love?

Chapter 11: Black Toe

  1. What is the function of the scene here with Bob and Charlotte and the sushi chef? What is the role of language here?

Chapter 12: At the Hospital

  1. What is the significance of their hospital visit? Look carefully at the interactions that occur between Bob, Charlotte and the Hospital Registrar, Charlotte and the surgeon, Bob and the elderly lady in the waiting room in terms of how language operates.
  2. How does Coppola convey Bob’s nervousness at Club Orange? How does this scene contrast with the relationship between Bob and Charlotte? What kind of attitude towards sexuality is articulated here?
  3. How does Bob react when he sees an image of himself on the moving billboard? What kind of language is he using as he dodges across the traffic?
  4. Why do Bob and Charlotte avoid Kelly – who is singing at the bar – when they come back to the hotel? What does their body language tell us about their relationship?
  5. In the Bob’s hotel room they are watching ‘La Dolce Vita’. Research this movie on imdb.com or wikipedia (or better still, get a copy and watch it) and articulate why you think Coppola chose this film. What resonances does it have for Bob and Charlotte?
  6. Examine the sequence of scenes from when they are mirrored/reflected in the window and the city skyline to when they fall asleep. Explain the directorial choices here, particularly with regards to cinematography and dialogue.
  7. What do they reveal about how they are perceived by their partners in the scene referred to above?

Chapter 13: Kyoto

  1. Describe how Charlotte is presented as she watches the wedding procession.
  2. At the entrance to the shrine in Kyoto, Charlotte writes on a piece of paper and attaches it to a tree covered in these small pieces of paper. What wish do you imagine she writes on this piece of paper? Explain your choice.
  3. Why does Bob avoid the advertising people he’s working for? Why does he agree to go on the chat show?
  4. What does the mobile phone conversation with his wife (while he’s in the bath) reveal about Bob’s state of mind?
  5. Examine the sequence of scenes 48-51. How has Coppola structured this sequence to provide some context (or justification) for Bob sleeping with the jazz singer? What is she suggesting about the disconnectedness of modern life?

Chapter 14: The Jazz Singer

  1. Why do you think Bob sleeps with the jazz singer from Sausilito? How does he feel about it in the morning? How does Charlotte react? Examine some of the scenes leading up to this point for points of contrast and comparison with Charlotte.

Chapter 15: The Worst Lunch

  1. Describe the tone and mood of the scene in the sushi bar. Apart from dialogue, how does Coppola create this mood?

Chapter 16: Fire Alarm

  1. When Bob and Charlotte see each other downstairs during the fire drill/alarm scene, they meet in a place that is neither completely inside nor completely outside, more of a liminal space. What symbolic purpose do you think this plays in the context of their relationship? The film itself?
  2. Why do you think that Charlotte smiles at Bob’s feet? What does it display about Bob?
  3. Describe the tone and mood of the scene at the hotel bar. Explain the significance of the new house band and the song they’re singing. Look carefully at the cinematography used to portray this last intimate scene between Bob and Charlotte. How does Coppola use Charlotte’s dialogue to undercut her perhaps more serious intentions?
  4. Examine the chaste, clumsily delivered/received kiss they exchange in the lift. What effect is Coppola striving for here?

Chapter 17: So this is goodbye

  1. In what ways does Coppola juxtapose the emotional significance of the two men in Charlotte’s life at this point? Look carefully at the fax that John sends and the phone call that Bob makes to her room.
  2. What is the function of the ‘sexy businesswoman’ (her title in the list of characters) in the lobby? She introduces herself to Bob, shakes his hand and then Charlotte exits the lift. At this late point in the film, what is the purpose of this short scene?
  3. Look carefully at the shot of Charlotte entering the lift, the doors closing and giving us a reflection of Bob’s luggage. What does this sequence suggest about their relationship?
  4. In the scene where Bob chases Charlotte and embraces her, his whispering is indistinct – although it obvious that it comforts Charlotte in some way. What do you imagine that he says? More importantly, why do you think that Coppola has chosen to exclude the audience from listening to Bob’s words?

1 It is also a derogatory comment about the importance of ‘surface’ in postmodernism

Go To Top



Neals logo | Copyright | Disclaimer | Contact Us | Help