This week I thought our conversation about “Reading the Paper” was really interesting. The difference between how the reader interprets gender when there are no pronouns is fascinating; as someone who read the voice as male the entire time it was almost surprising to me that people had read it another way. The way Olga explained her thought process about why the narrator might be female (passivity, caretaking, and sexual assault) made a lot of sense, and it was something I hadn’t even considered while reading. However, thinking back to Professor Cassarino’s question about whether gender matters or not: I think it could matter in a lot of cases, but I don’t think that it does in “Reading the Paper”. The point was to narrate a person’s trauma response, and the person’s actions didn’t necessarily depend on whether they were male or female.
Yes! And I hope I was clear that I was asking this question only/specifically in the context of that piece —because of course gender always matters! I was trying, too, to steer us back to the piece, rather than continuing to debate this point, which seemed unresolvable despite it raising an interesting conversation.
I am forever interested in the discourse around who can write or represent what stories/characters. I am of the opinion that we are generally able to portray our own experiences better, more authentically. In most cases, I can tell, as I’m reading, if someone has known, intimately, what they’re talking about – be it an event or a street. That having been said – I think we also missed, in class, an important piece of this conversation – power. Historically, white creatives & other privileged groups have gained renown and financial success through writing/filming/portraying/etc. the stories of marginalized folks – this is part of why the ethics of journalism interest me so much. I believe there might be an ethical way to tell stories other than our own, but there’s no one-size-fits all approach – and the question of who can tell a story becomes even muddier when one is working in fiction, especially fantasy. This is also an issue of access – people of color, poor people, people with less access to education, disabled people, marginalized genders, more – have long been denied access to the spaces, support, etc. to create and share their art, be that physically (inaccessible performance spaces, studios, lack of interpretation services, etc.) or through more subtle forces.
I keep thinking about the Professor saying that the story in “Dog Days” was not literal. I re-read it, and to me, it seems like a literal story – not a true story – but a literal story about a man in a dog costume visiting the porch of this family living in apocalyptic times. Do I see how the character of the man in the dog costume represents filling needs, as we discussed. Yes, for example, he filled the need of the mother who was grieving over her own lost pet. That said, how was the story itself not literal? What am I missing?
I think what I was aiming for everyone to think about is that it is and is not literal; it is both. Already we have to suspend our sense of the literal in such a fantastical story of an apocalyptic period that is unreal (yet possible), which complicates our reading of any figures/events within that story. Everything is potentially literal and nothing is, everything is a simulacrum, too, and Budnitz is working out grander metaphors at play (that is the play of the story). You’re not missing anything!
I found it interesting how we could interpret fiction writings to be literal or as something beyond just that with them being extended metaphors. Metaphors can then be a powerful tool to make the truth in a story seem fictional.
6 responses to “Week 6 Takeaways (Weds)”
This week I thought our conversation about “Reading the Paper” was really interesting. The difference between how the reader interprets gender when there are no pronouns is fascinating; as someone who read the voice as male the entire time it was almost surprising to me that people had read it another way. The way Olga explained her thought process about why the narrator might be female (passivity, caretaking, and sexual assault) made a lot of sense, and it was something I hadn’t even considered while reading. However, thinking back to Professor Cassarino’s question about whether gender matters or not: I think it could matter in a lot of cases, but I don’t think that it does in “Reading the Paper”. The point was to narrate a person’s trauma response, and the person’s actions didn’t necessarily depend on whether they were male or female.
Yes! And I hope I was clear that I was asking this question only/specifically in the context of that piece —because of course gender always matters! I was trying, too, to steer us back to the piece, rather than continuing to debate this point, which seemed unresolvable despite it raising an interesting conversation.
I am forever interested in the discourse around who can write or represent what stories/characters. I am of the opinion that we are generally able to portray our own experiences better, more authentically. In most cases, I can tell, as I’m reading, if someone has known, intimately, what they’re talking about – be it an event or a street. That having been said – I think we also missed, in class, an important piece of this conversation – power. Historically, white creatives & other privileged groups have gained renown and financial success through writing/filming/portraying/etc. the stories of marginalized folks – this is part of why the ethics of journalism interest me so much. I believe there might be an ethical way to tell stories other than our own, but there’s no one-size-fits all approach – and the question of who can tell a story becomes even muddier when one is working in fiction, especially fantasy. This is also an issue of access – people of color, poor people, people with less access to education, disabled people, marginalized genders, more – have long been denied access to the spaces, support, etc. to create and share their art, be that physically (inaccessible performance spaces, studios, lack of interpretation services, etc.) or through more subtle forces.
I keep thinking about the Professor saying that the story in “Dog Days” was not literal. I re-read it, and to me, it seems like a literal story – not a true story – but a literal story about a man in a dog costume visiting the porch of this family living in apocalyptic times. Do I see how the character of the man in the dog costume represents filling needs, as we discussed. Yes, for example, he filled the need of the mother who was grieving over her own lost pet. That said, how was the story itself not literal? What am I missing?
I think what I was aiming for everyone to think about is that it is and is not literal; it is both. Already we have to suspend our sense of the literal in such a fantastical story of an apocalyptic period that is unreal (yet possible), which complicates our reading of any figures/events within that story. Everything is potentially literal and nothing is, everything is a simulacrum, too, and Budnitz is working out grander metaphors at play (that is the play of the story). You’re not missing anything!
I found it interesting how we could interpret fiction writings to be literal or as something beyond just that with them being extended metaphors. Metaphors can then be a powerful tool to make the truth in a story seem fictional.