Gary Snyder: "The Pain of the Work of Wrecking the World"

     Gary Snyder's prose and poetry indicate a belief in humans being able to coexist with nature, but the latter always remains the most noble of the pair. Although Snyder seeks inspiration from the form and purity of the natural world, he also speaks about the corruptive and destructive power of humans.

     In "The Cannon Wren," the speaker describes a boat trip with vivid detail about the sights and sounds of the environment. The "roar" of the "churning whitewater" and the sound of the birds transforms into the "song of the Canyon Wren." The speakers says:

These songs that are here and gone,
Here and gone
To purify our ears.

     There is a definite statement that humans receive these influences from nature, which can be used to purify themselves, indicating that humans are somehow tainted and less valued.  

     In the poem "Dillingham, Alaska, the Willow Tree Bar," the speaker describes the similar experience of drill workers meeting at a bar after work. The  men are said to be

Drinking it down,

the pain
of the work
of wrecking the world.

     On a literal level, this could indicate that the men have a physically exhausting job, but Snyder's intent runs deeper. The men are apparently drinking to combat the knowledge that their work is destroying the natural environment, but there also seems to be a sense of global chaos as a result of creating imbalance. Rather than portraying these men as ignorant of their actions, Snyder places blame on their complacency. The poem ends without any real sense of resolution, but there is tone of finality. Although the speaker wishes things were different, Snyder doesn't seem to believe that humans can overcome this willingness to wreck nature.

     These competing views of nature and humanity are present throughout Snyder's writing, and when reading many similar selections in a short time frame, this concept was a bit too repetitive. Someone in class discussion described Snyder as being "preachy" which I believe is an accurate description of the tone in many of the prose pieces we read. If Snyder's poetry was a gentle warning about humanity's flaws, the essay "The Place, the Region, and the Commons" was a pronounced critique of almost every societal construction. While the land of "the commons" is esteemed as the picture of perfection, every political and economic action undertaken by humans is portrayed as exploitative and perverse. The heart of Snyder's criticism stems from individuals banding together and creating governing structures, as he says, "sometimes it seems unlikely that a society as a whole can make wise choices" (101). Snyder strongly opposes the "complicated industrial capitalist/socialist mixes" that will eventually destroy the entire natural system that "supports us" (101).

     In my opinion, Snyder uses very broad generalizations to denounce any thought system that differs from his own philosophy. Before the advent of enclosing public lands, Snyder didn't seem to find much fault in the free use of lands, but changed his mind with the increasing influence of politics on land ownership and privatization. Although Snyder seems to hold Native American communities as an ideal, he doesn't extensively evaluate these communities as a political entity with governing abilities. Based on the disdainful way he speaks of western industrial-capitalist societies, this essay read more like a historical document closely following the era of industrialization, when some called for a return to nature and simpler means of economic production. I didn't get a modern feel from this essay, and I don't believe that Snyder's ideal world of the open field system, which would be accompanied by a subsequent shift of politics back to pre-16th century European structures, is entirely practical in the contemporary world.  

Desire: From Road to Railroad

            To be perfectly honest, I'm not a big fan of Jack Kerouac's writing, so I hesitated before reading Lonesome Traveler. I felt myself drifting a little in the middle of Kerouac's long-winded sentences, and the detailed descriptions recounting his day didn't always hold my interest. Although I enjoyed listening to Kerouac read selections from "Railroad Earth," I was more transfixed by the beat of his voice and the fluid way he read, rather than the story he was relating. While On the Road seemed to be a story of movement, mystery, and spontaneity, I read "Railroad Earth" as a period of constancy and increased certainty in Kerouac's life. The language Kerouac uses to describe the railroad reminded me of his portrayal of the road--both being symbols of freedom and eternity. However, Kerouac is employed as a consistent railroad worker in this story, so he seems to be dreaming of the potential for adventure that the railroad holds rather than experiencing it for himself.

            Kerouac feels a sense of nostalgia for the type of life he led in On the Road, but he does not explicitly express a sense of dissatisfaction for his current life and job. The passage that I chose to discuss in class was slightly confusing, as it illustrates these competing views. Kerouac's references to the past are not simply concerned with a few years previous, but his thoughts extend back as far as childhood, as in the following passage:

"You see all the lil ranchstyle California homes and in the evening people sipping in livingrooms open to the sweetness, the stars, the hope that the lil children must see when they lay in little beds and bedtime and look up and a star throbs for them above the railroad earth, and the train calls, and they think tonite the stars will be out, they come, they leave, they lave, they angelicize, ah me, I must come from a land where they let the children cry, ah my, I wish I was a child in California..."

            By using language such as "sweetness," Kerouac associates nature with purity and wonder, similar to the characterization of a child. The dreams Kerouac describes are innocent and hopeful, as the children believe that stars emerge for them and that they can rely on this truth. By aligning himself with the railroads and open sky, Kerouac is expressing a desire for renewal, allowing him to return to the uninhibited lifestyle of a previous time. The stars shine and "angelisize" those underneath, reinforcing the idea that everything and everyone can be holy. Although the children cry, Kerouac expresses a desire to join them. It seems like society allows these children to cry when dreams are lost to reality. However, Kerouac also suggests that children can see the "throbbing hope-light shining," providing the promise of a better future. Kerouac also speaks of the ideal farm home with its fence and harmonious family, illustrating the some of the conventional views that appear at odds with Kerouac's love of the open road and lack of accountability. Toward the end of this passage, Kerouac speaks of a train passing by the dream of this farmhouse, ultimately showing how Kerouac's thoughts shift away from these desires in due course. 

Relative Social Truths in "Dutchman"

     One of the intriguing themes in Dutchman was the extent to which society creates expectations about a specific racial group, and how these stereotyped ideas are both denounced and supported by Clay. I think Clay is acutely aware of society's expectations for a young black man, but he doesn't buy into these ideas. In the first act, Clay treats Lula's prejudices with humor and when asked his last name he responds, "'Take your pick. Jackson, Johnson, or Williams," poking fun at those names society expects to belong to black Americans (15). This discussion of last names reminded me of an interview with Malcolm X that I saw at the National Civil Rights Museum (in Memphis, Tennessee). The museum plays the first two minutes of this video in a loop as part of an exhibit. Essentially, the interviewer asks Malcolm X his "real" last name, but he refuses to answer because he ties names such as "Murphy, Jones, or Smith" to the history of slavery, claiming that these last names don't really belong to African Americans and they shouldn't be forced to answer to these false identities. 

                      

     Similarly, in Dutchman, Lula seems intent on tying Clay and his ancestors to slavery in order to project her limited view of black Americans onto Clay, as seen in the following exchange:

LULA. What right do you have to be wearing a three-button suit and striped tie? Your grandfather was a slave, he didn't go to Harvard.

CLAY. My grandfather was a night watchman.

     Whenever Lula makes an accusation or assumption, Clay tends to ignore the insult tied to what she's saying and just focuses on her next topic. Clay avoids violence of action and speech consistently, as he doesn't seem to believe that anything worthy will result. Although Clay's physical appearance and lifestyle could be seen as assimilation into white American culture, I don't think Clay believes his opportunities and expression are tied to any specific race, but simply are part of his identity as a human. Unlike Lula, he believes he has a right to wear this suit because he is capable of constructing whatever identity he wants without worrying about social restrictions. 

     If this is a play is to be read as a representation of the unjust persecution of black Americans, I found Clay's anti-Semitic comment to be quite surprising. When Lula speaks of Clay's ancestors as slaves on a  plantation surrounded by barbed wire, he responds by saying, "You must be Jewish. All you can think about is wire" (29). This is an obvious reference to the concentration camps of the Holocaust, which was not only a form of religious persecution, but also involved ethnicity, sexuality, nationality, and disabilities. Dr. Lennon mentioned that the playwright was anti-Semitic, which might explain why this comment was included. However, it seems like Clay would show greater sympathy for other minority groups who have been historically oppressed. I think this comment deflated Clay's character and slightly contradicts his final monologue. In this speech, Clay suggests that black Americans are encouraged to keep their culture and customs separate by white society, and he is glad that many black American do not buy into the "rationalism and cold logic" used to justify the hatred of others (36).

     Even at the end of the play, I felt unsure about what exactly it is Lula was after in her exchange with Clay. She seemed to be anticipating a specific response from Clay throughout the play, and kills Clay when she doesn't receive it. As Clay is dying, Lula says "Sorry is the rightest thing you've said," almost as if she think Clay should apologize for his dislike of racial segregation and prejudices, while she is entitled to her own thoughts (37).  

The Beats in Film: Hit & Miss

"The Junky's Christmas"

     I have to admit that I wasn't really a fan of "The Junky's Christmas" short film. For some reason, I assumed this was a live-action film, so I was in for a surprise when the claymation began. Based on the story, it seemed an odd choice to use animation and a disembodied narrator rather than actors. Burroughs' story was very much centered on human action, responses between characters, and emotional communication through facial expressions and movement, all of which are elements that I think were lost in the translation to film. I imagined Danny to be a relatively young man, so the choice of an elderly narrator didn't synch with my image of the character. Also, the use of a narrator to play both parts of a conversation (such as Danny's encounter with The Buyer) was distracting. There was also little contrast between Danny and Joey, a junky who seems infinitely more damaged and hopeless. Burroughs' story seemed to be very centered on exploring desires and humanity, but the clay figures were not sculpted realistically, which I think undermined the themes of the work. Unlike when I read the story, I didn't really believe the film, and I didn't feel the same sort of empathy toward the characters.

     Another source of my dislike for the film was the incorporation of music. From the beginning, the choir singing over the opening scene felt very religious, and I don't think Burroughs' story emphasized the policy of everything being holy. When Danny went back to his hotel room to get his fix, there was a bass-heavy track playing that sounded like a "funky" song from a bad 1970s police movie. I think this was the director's attempt at making drug use seem gritty and cool, which contradicts Burroughs' stance on simply portraying the life of a junky rather than glorifying drug use. When Danny receives his "immaculate fix" the scene was set to "Hark! the Herald Angels Sing," which reinforced a religious/divine reading of the text, as Danny floated in the air as golden light shone into the room. Again, I think this cast Danny's drug use in a positive light, rather than the sparse imagery of his body going "slack" and his head "falling forward."

     Finally, I didn't understand the significance of the old man reading the story in the beginning and his Christmas celebration at the end--but maybe that was just me. Other than this being a framing device, I'm not quite sure why it was included. Personally, I though the ending would have been more solid if it cut straight from Danny to the credits. The use of "Dance of the Sugar Plum Fairies" from Tchaikovsky's "Nutcracker" would have concluded the film on a mysterious and slightly eerie note.

"Pull My Daisy"

     I enjoyed this film more, perhaps because the narration seemed to mesh quite well with the story. Kerouac's voice gave the story an authentic quality, especially since parts seemed improvised and spontaneous. Overall, I think the film could be described as a subdued version of On the Road. The situation itself was humorous and ridiculous, as a bishop came to dinner with the expectations of a refined evening, only to find out that his dinner party was crashed by a bunch of Beat poets. However, this concept was entertaining and didn't seem contrived, but rather a normal day in the lives of these Beats. It was almost as if Kerouac was making a British naturalist documentary, but in a truly impulsive and humorous fashion. The film didn't seemed forced, and the production design and lack of embellishment reinforced the simple image of a group of friends gathering in an apartment and conversing. The conversation was sometimes calm, but frantic and deep at other moments. One of the guests at the house defines "goofing" as playing around with words, which seemed to be the exercise of the film. One moment there was an insightful conversation about Buddhism or "angels and ministers," then a dancing montage set to jazz. The film also seemed to be truthful to Ginsberg's poetry, especially in the similarity to  "Footnote to Howl," as a discussion of the holiness of glasses and baseball takes place. 

Burroughs: Not Everything Is Holy

            As the title of Burroughs's short story "International Zone" suggests, his writing is more broad in its subject matter than that of Kerouac and Ginsberg. Although Burroughs did express his social criticisms of America in "Twilight's Last Gleaming," he opens up his writing to a larger discussion, not simple choosing to speak of the experiences and denunciations of his homeland. In this manner, his view of the world is more comprehensive, as he acknowledges the duality of good and bad in most areas of life. Burroughs can be straightforward and utter short, declarative statements that reveal a truth, but he doesn't feel the need to turn every idea into a sensational revelation.

            When I read Burroughs's writing, I imagined him as an impartial observer rather than someone constantly referencing and defining his place within this "Beat" generation. Although his writing seems to hold the opinions of someone who is well-informed and self-assured, I never got the impression that Burroughs tries to elevate himself onto a divine level. Unlike Kerouac and Ginsberg, there's never really a discussion of spirituality and the quest to become a holy figure. Burroughs presents the facts of a society as he sees them: in a straightforward fashion that lacks  embellishment. Speaking of Tangiers, Burroughs says, "You see filth, poverty, disease, all endured with a curiously apathetic indifference" (56). This statement forms the last sentence of a paragraph in "International Zone," and it's simply on to another topic right afterwards. Burroughs doesn't take time to reminisce on these social ills as Ginsberg would, but instead chooses to realistically communicate how someone may give such little thought to these matter in their daily life. There is no celebration of the "angelheaded hipster" or a glorification of the impoverished classes as Kerouac would provide. In this manner, it seems that Burroughs is somewhat lacking in the egotism present in the texts we studied previously, as Burroughs doesn't give himself the sense of elevated authority used to freely pass judgment. Whereas Ginsberg speaks of Moloch metaphorically devouring America, Burroughs writes on a more realistic and human-based level. Tangiers is a city filled with people who simply can't be bothered, who are proponents of an unconscious policy of "exemption" and "noninterference" (59).  I'm not saying that ignoring these problems is necessarily a good thing, but I just think that Burroughs wasn't trying to make himself into the figure of a savior or champion. I don't believe that Burroughs necessarily thought he could represent lifestyles other than his own, unlike Kerouac's ignorant adventure of becoming a provider, father, and Mexican for the day.

            Personally, I found Burroughs to be a relief from the need to constantly aggrandize ideas and experiences, for what seems like the sake of making everything holy. I think I was one of the few people who really disliked for On the Road, but I got tired of every drink, every party, every drive, every conversation constantly being made into something phenomenal. Even though the people Burroughs discusses may not be the "holy" Neal Cassady or an adventurous group of people, I found them to be more interesting and infinitely less frustrating. Overall, Burroughs's writing has the ability to show that sometimes people really are just normal and "in hopeless, dead-end situations," and I think this lack of ornamentation  emphasizes the diversity of philosophy within this "generation" (49).