CHAC MOOL

After finishing Aura by Carlos Fuentes, my thoughts immediately brought me to his other short story that I read called Chac Mool. Both stories seem to have remarkable similarities, as Fuentes uses the same style of mystery and deception to confuse and captivate the reader in each story. Both stories involve transformation of characters. In Aura, Felipe becomes the General (Señora Consuelo’s husband) and Aura becomes her Aunt Consuelo. Likewise in Chac Mool, the rain god Chac Mool kills Filiberto, and transforms from a stone statue into a human. Additionally, both stories contain the element of fantasy as weird and rare incidences occur throughout both short stories. In Aura, there is the moment when the cats on roof are tied together and are burning. Señora Consuelo seems to have no recollection of having any cats or knowing about any cats. In Chac Mool, the pipes burst and flood the basement even though there is no tangible cause for pipes breaking. Also, there are laments and moans heard from the basement of the house, even though there is only the statue of Chac Mool there. More so, the stone statue starts to turn into human flesh and starts to grow hair, which causes Filiberto to think he is hallucinating.

            It seems interesting to me that Fuentes’ transformations seem to be opposite to how people would usually think they occur. Traditionally, people would want to transform into a younger version of themselves, not progress older. However, Fuentes coverts Felipe and Aura into an elderly couple. Similarly, usually people want to try to become god-like. Yet, Chac Mool converts into a mortal human rather than Filiberto changing into a god.

The role of Friday

The role of silence throughout the novel Foe confuses the reader and at the same time, carries the reader throughout the story. The vector through which silence embodies is in Friday, the seemingly mute slave. Friday mainly communicates through blank stares with all of the characters in the book. He never speaks, and this drives Barton insane. We as the readers are infatuated with the silence that Friday carries because Barton is fixed on it as well. Even more, we are concerned with what the silence hides. What does Friday hold to clarify the sea of lies that surrounds Barton’s voyage? Is it the truth? Or is it simply a meaningless falsity? The result of this ever-present silence produces a paranoia to discover the truth and its contents.

            It seems interesting to me that Friday has no tongue, which is why he cannot speak. The tongue is the strongest muscle in the body. With this instrument, humans can shape words that produce the truth, which is a powerful tool that we use to navigate our lives. Without this powerful muscle, we are weakened because we cannot tell the truth. The lack of having a tongue leaves Friday at a disadvantage because he cannot verbally communicate with others. However, it seems as though Friday does not want the truth to be known because he will not learn the letters of the alphabet. This gesture shows that the truth will be trapped in silence, which is lost to the readers throughout the book.

Exploring the Unspoken

Part IV of Foe is of particularly exciting because we finally confront the story's great silence and ever-present void, what Coetzee calls "the unspoken" (141). In Part III, "the unspoken" is quiet clearly defined for us: "Friday's silence" (142) and why he would sprinkle flowers on the water near the island (141). Moreover, Foe and Susan even describe how this silence must be breached by "[opening] Friday's mouth and hear what it holds: silence, perhaps, or a roar, like the roar of a seashell held to the ear" (142). This is, in essence, "the unspoken" heart of the story.

Part VI focuses on just this central void by literally transporting us there. The repeated phrase "The staircase is dark and mean" from Part III serves as a land mark, signaling to us that we are right outside Mr. Foe's house, just as Susan was at the beginning of Part III. We encounter the dead bodies of Mr. Foe and Susan in bed together along with the still living body of Friday. From here, the action of opening Friday's mouth parallels the exact description from Part III and therefore serves as yet another sign post, this time telling us that we are entering the heart of the novel. Thus, as we listen to "the sounds of the island" (154) emerge from Friday's parted teeth, we witness the unspoken heart of the novel become spoken.

From this point forward, it isn't as clear what goes on. It appears that the narrator (whose identity is not clear) discovers Foe's transcript for Susan's book in the dispatch box and is transported to the shipwreck near the island. Here, we descend into the seaweed and the shipwreck and into "the home of Friday" (157) where the narrator once again opens his mouth. The stream that pours out is the supposed heart of the novel and spreads across the world. What this stream is exactly, I can't say. For me, this is a part of Part IV that requires further analysis that I'm hoping tomorrow's class can initiate.

So as we prepare to discuss Part IV in class, I believe that we must work to understand what exactly is the stream that emerges and therefore the unspoken heart of the novel? How does this central meaning incorporate all that we have observed throughout the novel? And who is the narrator in Part IV and how does this anonymous narrator impact the conveyance of the story's meaning?

Late&Language

Once we decided as a class to extend the deadline for blogposts, I promised myself that I would do everything in my power to complete the posts on time. Yet, here I am, writing my blogpost at 12:20 a.m. after I completed all my other homework, laundry, and various extracurriculars. One thing I've learned about myself throughout the entire blogging experience is that I struggle to meet deadlines that are not heavily enforced and that do not come with a penalty if not met. Even though I always am thoughtful and insightful in my posts, it's vital that I meet the deadline that my classmates all agreed on because of the importance of respect and discipline. That being said,  as I was reading part 4 of Foe, I found myself thinking becoming frustrated with the ambiguous language and choppy sentences throughout the five pages. But then I found myself reflecting on why language must flow, transition, and be worded perfectly? Why must writing fit a mold that I've constructed in my mind? I think that part 4 challenges the reader to develop their own interpretation of the novel and discover the identity of the narrator.

Tastier Confections To Be Had

Throughout Foe, I have admired Susan Barton's persistence in ensuring that her story, the story she wants to be told be Foe, is indeed told. My understanding shifted slightly in Part 3, as did Susan Barton's attitude towards Foe. When referring to meeting up with Foe again, she writes "all the joy I had felt in finding my way to Foe fled me. I sat heavy-limbed" (117). Foe encourages her over and over to explain Bahia, for he is telling her tale his way, not hers. I recognized this theme from earlier in the novel, when Susan was so resistant to assimilate and learn Cruso's ways on the island. I was better able to understand Susan's opposition to explaining Bahia to Foe, for she refers to silence of Bahia in her narrative as "my own silence" for it is "chosen" and purposeful" (122). Once again, the repetition of choice and having one's own voice be heard stood out to me. I admire Susan's aspiration and dedication to being a "free woman who asserts her freedom by telling her story according to her own desire" (131), yet I was very conflicted by her rigidness and somewhat selfish behaviors. Coetzee carefully juxtaposed the idea of "choice" and "freedom of speech" with Friday's inability to speak and ultimate silence throughout the book. I was even more frustrated with Susan in Part 4, due to her inability to believe in Friday. It seems as though she quickly gave up on him and that was very disappointing to me.

Like my fellow classmates, I am very confused by Part 4 of Foe. I am excited to discuss this further in class.  

Seeing Is Believing

     It's interesting that the final chapter offers an enormous amount of sensory details, contributing to a sense of reality, yet blurs lines regarding the authorship of the story and letters.  Many of the sensory details have to do with a lack of of sense. We read about a lack of light. The narrator feels around the room. The narrator can't see faces, because they're covered with scarves. The environment seems stagnant, yet the narrator searches on - for a pulse, for a sound, for answers. Everything seems so real to reader. The narrator drifts to a shipwreck then - this also has many sensory details. Everything seems so real, which only leads me to question everything further. Much like the sensory details take us into the story, the sounds that the narrator thinks he or she hears from Friday's mouth, or anything the narrator sees around him or her stimulates memories and the imagination. Why does Coetzee include so many details in a chapter that crosses into the imaginary? What can we be left to trust from what we read then?

Meaning in Lies

Today, I was talking to my psych professor about free will.  As I described the philosophical argument against free will, she responded by saying, "well, I'd like to at least think that we have free will".  Foma are everywhere.  I keep thinking back to the first class when we were all asked if we ever tell ourselves white lies, and if we ever put our faith in something that might not make the most logical sense or be 'true'.  Throughout this course, I have realized how many things I put my (blind? ignorant?) faith in because it makes me “brave and kind and healthy and happy” (CC pretext).  Determining to believe that I have free will, and that my fate is not predetermined, regardless of what the actual 'truth' is, allows me to feel that there is more meaning to my life.  Is this wrong?  Is this disregard of a quest for finding out what's actually true negative?  And, in the end, do we derive the most 'truth' from the lies that we tell?

???

I went into the last section of Foe under the impression that the narrator was going to be consistent from the rest of the book.  You can understand my exceptional confusion in this last part.  The change of narration is not the only part of this 5 paged section that overwhelmed me.  I had a very difficult time following the sequence of events throughout this section.  Yet despite my agitation, I appreciated the ending of Foe on a whole.  I found it fitting that Friday was the focus of the last several paragraphs.  A man of no words surrounded by many.  Friday has always been a curious character, and one who intrigued Barton a great deal.  As Coetzee finishes his book with Friday's mouth open, I was left wondering the fate of Friday.  This last section of the book left me fairly perplexed, confused and frustrated by what I just read and how it affects the rest of the story that I had already read.

Manipulation is where you find it.

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.

The Home of Friday

This part of the final section really grabbed my attention. On page 157, "But this is not a place of words. Each syllable, as it comes out is caught and filled with water and diffused. This is a place where bodies are their own signs. It is the home of Friday". I can only imagine that speaking underwater must be what it is like to have no tongue. The frustration that comes with not being able to communicate, trying to push heavy words out of your mouth only to have them dissipate like bubbles in water. The home of Friday is this silence and mystery since after all, Friday is nothing but a living corpse, forever a mystery trapped in a body that might as well be at the bottom the ocean.

Lost (Possibly)

It’s a burden, I guess, the freedom we do have. Though I consider myself relatively self disciplined and was relieved by the change of deadlines for our weekly blog post, here I find my self again, embarking on my review of the week (or three, in this case) with only a couple of small hours until the finished product is due. Even after three weeks of notice, the blogging process remains a last minute task I struggle to plan for. Of course, freedom grants me the right to begin my thought process whenever I choose, but does it not also grant me the opportunity for greater success?

Once Susan begins reading what is presumably her script, does she continue reading or is she revising her thoughts? Has she been concealing a longer connection to Friday, one that predates the island and Cruso and constructed background she previously recalled? It’s interesting that the quotations extend only as far as he opening line, and then disappear. I don’t have the slightest idea as to what their presence (or lack there of) means, or if it’s even Susan speaking at this point. The text leading up seems to indicate Susan’s narration, but the issue of Susan 2, who claims to know as much of the original Susan’s adventure, being a possible narrator, muddies the situation. It almost seems as if Susan 2 is the most likely narrator for the closing pages, as she sees two people in the bed. I am expecting, however, that all of my ideas about the fourth sections will radically change by tomorrow.

A Crime Against the Reader?

            Thus far we have faced some pretty strange and perplexing modes of manipulation. Ambrose Bierce tricks us into thinking Peyton Farquhar survived, Tim O’Brien never says definitively whether or not he killed a man, and Werner Herzog put his own spin on the true and tragic tale of Timothy Treadwell. However, J.M Coetzee tops all others’ efforts with the ending of Foe, which is practically a crime against the reader.

            I was very baffled by the ending to Foe. I reread it twice, thinking that maybe it was just I but it appears from reading the blog that others share my sentiments. I do not think the ending provides any closure whatsoever, and don’t exactly see how it pertains to the rest of the story. It definitely makes me doubt everything I read beforehand, as Susan Barton appears to have died. Is Coetzee trying to show us the importance of perspective, and how there are many sides to every story? I for one do not see the purpose of this ending, and it left me very disappointed.

Part IV: My Interpretation

After rereading Part IV of Foe around five times, I’m pretty much just as confused as I was after reading it the first time. However, here is my interpretation of the ending to this novel:

           

            The narrator in Part IV is someone we had not heard from prior to this.  In Part IV we saw that he/she entered the house of Daniel Defoe and found a note that read, “Dear Mr Foe, At last I could row no further.” I immediately thought of the first line of this novel, which reads, “At last I could row no further.” In class we talked about the different possibilities of how Susan's story was formed and manipulated and if some of the characters were even real. After reading this last part, I believe this narrator from Part IV found Friday, a dead Susan Barton, and a note to some author “Mr. Foe”. Then with help from his imagination, he created a story. This narrator created and wrote the entire story we read in Part I, II, and III.

           

            Is any of this accurate? I have no idea. I do not know what J.M. Coetzee really meant in this last part, but maybe that’s the point. I am sure there are purposefully many different interpretations of this story. Therefore I realized that no matter how many times I reread it, that sense of confusion will never completely go away. 

Confused.

I was sitting on the train from New York City to Boston as I read part IV of Foe. The book was moving up and down, and side to side as the train jumped around. I was caught off guard, to say the least, with the content. The first question that popped into my mind was “who is narrating?” because all of a sudden Friday is almost dead, and Susan Barton is dead (right?), but the letters she wrote were real? Or she never existed in the first place—probably the more likely scenario given the nature of our course. I was so confused I read part IV over three times. Not sure that made any difference.

What I think—right now, but will probably change once I am mind-blown in class—is that Foe writes this chapter in the first person, from his own voice. He includes a lot of repetition from Susan Barton’s letters, so maybe she did exist in the story and she did write those letters to him.  Then, I thought…okay well clearly Susan and Friday died in the original shipwreck and then everything else is made up by Foe because the narrator does say he finds Susan with the dead captain who died in the original shipwreck according to the Susan Barton earlier in the book. But once again, I don’t know. But then, as you continue to read, I am confused once again because Friday was in the bed almost dead, and then he has a chain around his neck and is not dead. So is he dead? Is he alive? Is Foe going back in time and making no sense? Did I read this book all wrong?

Maybe someone can make sense of this ramble of thoughts, because I sure cannot.