After reading part four of Foe and realizing I am more confused than ever about the narrator and occurrences in the story, I have decided to write about something else. I haven't posted since before spring break, so I thought I'd fill you in on what I've been up to. I went on a road trip from Anna Maria Island in Florida to West Hartford, Connecticut. On the way we made several stops at awesome locations and I got to experience the country in a new way. I had never really been to the South before and it was very interesting to compare with my liberal, New England perspective. I should qualify all of this by explaining that I had strep throat for the entirety of the trip, so I was more cynical than usual. We drove from Florida to Savannah, Georgia. Savannah was adorable and charming, but also extremely confederate, which was weird for me, but allowed me to analyze how I was being manipulated all over the East Coast.
Savannah has so much historic charm. There is Spanish Moss all over the trees lining the streets and there are town squares in the center of all the blocks. After walking around, however, it became eerily evident that the town was promoting their role in the civil war, which many today would call the "wrong side" of the war. We were so blinded by the charm of the village we missed the dangerous messages being shared with us. We were being manipulated to ignore the historical despair the area represents. At least that was the reaction I got when describing it to people when I returned home. It seemed like I couldn't explain the beauty and the significance of its history without people thinking it was wrong to promote that confederate mentality.
This misrepresentation reminded me of Susan Barton, or Foe's depiction of Friday in Foe. He is made to seem animalistic. He is fed by Susan, he cannot communicate with people, and he is depicted as lacking consciousness. This seems unrealistic though. How can a he be so dependent on others and also so against them? Savannah is similar to Friday in the sense that their holding on to something. It's not clear why because they seem to be misunderstood. They're treated as wrong and lesser, when in reality they are just themselves. I'm still not clear as to how I feel about the end of the book, and that is probably clear in my inability to explain my perspective on Friday's character.
As you described Savannah, I was actually reminded on what we discussed about the ever-present silence within all stories. Let me first start off by saying that I have never been to the South and therefore cannot say first hand what it is truly like there. However, from what I have seen on the news and read, I believe I am qualified enough to discuss it here.
ReplyDeleteThe one argument that repeatedly resurfaces and shocks me every time is the argument that racism is dead. After all our country went through during the Civil Rights Movement of the 1960's and after all of the reform that followed, so many are led to believe that racism is a figment of the past, relegated to the pages of history books.
Yet how wrong they are. Racism and above all hate is alive and well in this country. Perhaps here in the North it is not as prevalent or evident, but surely it continues to fester is areas across the nation. And it's not just racial slurs being carelessly thrown around. There is real hate being allowed to take action, hate that is permitted to harm the lives of others. Certainly this is seen in the treatment of Hispanic immigrants in areas along the U.S.-Mexico border. Not only is the Southwest haunted by a history of hatred towards Mexicans, but also, the hatred supposedly left behind in the past still lives on in the present. It can be seen in the protests of against immigration reform. It can be heard deep within the voices of casual conversation. Most horrifying of all, it can be read within the state and federal law books (because who can forget Arizona's anti-immigration law in 2010). Racism is certainly alive and well. It is not just in the South, but it still permeates our culture and nation as a whole, perhaps in subtler and more deceptive ways. I have seen it, heard it, witnessed it and I know many of you have as well. If you haven't, try to look a little closer.
Despite all of this, many still treat racism as something to be forgotten, dare I say silenced. It is the voice many in this country are trying to cover up and the story they are trying to smother. Maybe it's through the aesthetic allure of the South, like the Spanish moss and the charming town squares of Savannah. Maybe it has simply taken on another form, or adopted a new euphemism for a name. It whatever way, racism is the dark story our country is trying to forget and cover.
This being said, I cannot help but be reminded of Foe and the pervasive silence of Friday. Part IV brings the void of Friday's eternal silence and untold story to the foreground, showing to us that it spans the entire world of the story, "northward and southward to the ends of the earth" (157). Ultimately Friday embodies the silence within not just the story of Foe, but rather all stories. He embodies every voice we silence in order to tell our side of the story. Moreover, Coetzee not only exposes us to this, but more importantly, he makes us long for Friday's side of the story, the missing piece to what happened on the island, even before the island. How did he lose his tongue? Did he ever learn to speak? Does he understand anything Susan says to him? Coetzee compels us to ask questions like these and in never revealing their answers ignites an eternally unsatisfied desire for Friday's story.
ReplyDeleteThus, we are shown the value of maintaining the voices of others rather than silencing them as we go about telling our story. To me, this seems to reflect the juncture our country now faces. We have gone through so much suffering to overcome prejudice, to uphold the values of equality and liberty for all and yet many simply want to move on. Yet what Coetzee shows us is the value in doing just the opposite: remembering the voices of the of the past that we'd rather ignore, the voices that reveal to us great pain that we'd rather not feel. As we move forward and as we write our history and our story, we must remember where others have been before us so that we may be here now and live in the present. Our past is not designed to become a weed that withers under the passing sun, but instead is meant to be used as a tool and a constant reminder as we build, progress, and move forward.
Thanks for offering this story up Sam. While it is simple, I think it's very thought provoking as we consider it within the context of the novel and its message.
ReplyDelete