Chazen essay example 7: Erika Dickerson

This final and wonderful example of an approach to the Chazen essay question models an analytical comparison of two pieces. Like many of the other examples posted below, Erika Dickerson used her comparison of these two works to deduce the aesthetic rules they shared and to offer a substantive analysis of their adherence to these rules.

An Analysis of the Success of Art and Novelty

A successful work of art encompasses various characteristics including composition, technique, and the four elements (tension, medium, perspective, and intent). Above all, the success of a piece depends on the way in which these characteristics come together to create a work that is indicative of the artist’s intent and exhibits a fresh perspective on a theme instead of being merely a variation of it.

Ed Paschke’s Spoken Word, 1992, exemplifies successful art. Paschke uses oil on a 60 x 78 canvas to illustrate a doorman kneeling down, presumably to whisper something into the ear of the distorted head. What is fascinating is the ambiguity of the head. Is it a statue? A person? Is it representative of an automaton? It is all of these. Through the distortion of the head and the symbols covering the painting, Paschke argues that the technological advancements of the 20th century obstruct the oral tradition of storytelling: spoken word. The term “spoken word” refers to two things: the oral expression of words and the Postmodern Art Movement. Paschke’s painting alludes to the conjunction of both references. The symbols across the painting are a compilation of tech language, symbols found on the keyboards of laptops, such as the forward slash, semicolon, and inequality signs. There is only one comprehensive phrase among the symbols in the painting, “look ahead: token,” charging the viewer to take the piece as an indication, or “token” of the future. The head represents the effect of human fixation; our lives are consumed by technology. Thus, Paschke imposes more squareness on the head to resemble a monitor. The linear deformity of the eyes and ears signify the inability of the human race to see or hear its own destruction. The doorman represents the possibility of redemption; his modest job calls for spoken word and manual labor, not technological advancements. This is also why Paschke does not paint symbols on the left side of the painting. There are litanies of paintings that speak to the disadvantages of technological advancements. However, Paschke does not simply curse them, but proposes that technology should not replace spoken word, but advance it. Paschke gives each figure about half of the canvas, providing a novel conclusion: there is room for both spoken word and technology to exist.

Unlike Paschke’s Spoken Word, the marble Madonna and Child sculpture, accredited to Benedetto da Maiano’s 1490s workshop, is unsuccessful because it simply offers a variation rather than a novel perspective of its theme. Countless paintings and sculptures imitate the portrait of the Virgin Mary and infant Jesus; it is one of the central icons of Christianity and Roman Catholicism. The sculpture fails to exhibit a communicative function, serving solely as a devotional image. This disallows the possibility of potential innovation in the work’s argument as opposed to its medium and composition. The Madonna and Child has a circular composition, tondo, a widespread 15th century Florence technique with glazed terracotta, or mud. The piece has a diameter of 26-5/8 inches. Here, even the composition is not innovative, but remains as popular as the work’s subject matter. However, what is interesting is the sense of womb and circle of life emphasized by the circular composition. Infant Jesus is wrapped in swaddling clothes, his right hand extended in a blessing gesture, a biblical allusion, referencing Jesus sitting on the right hand of the Father (God), as well as Galatians 2:9, where Paul and Barnabas are given the right hand of fellowship.2 The ornamental border of cherubim and angels carved in the low relief (not to mention Mary’s matching necklace) come as no surprise, as Isaiah 6:2 describes Jesus as being surround by angels. Unfortunately, the Madonna and Child offers the same hackneyed interpretation.

Ultimately, Paschke’s Spoken Word and Maiano’s Madonna and Child are both products of their time; Pascke, the 20th century, and Maiano, the Renaissance. Ironically, Paschke’s Spoken Word insists on more of resurgence than the Madonna and Child. Paschke not only presents an existing argument, but uses it to establish his own argument, refusing to simply confirm the idea that technology is harmful. Maiano’s workshop piece, however, only supports the sanctity of the religious icon. Also, Paschke’s work shows an interracial interaction, in which the minority (presumably of Latin descent) is the redeemer whereas Maiano’s marble work does not break the boundaries of race. It is Paschke’s pushing of boundaries and novelty that makes his work successful.

Chazen essay example 6: Gethsemane Herron

Our sixth example of a successful Chazen essay, by Gethsemane Herron, concentrates on two painters’ responses to a cultural cliché.

The Effects of Society on Female Behavior: Part 1

The artwork I found that completely succeeded according to its own rules was Sleeping Country Girl by Giuseppe Angeli. A painting made sometime between 1745 and 1755, it was made with the standard materials of oil paint on canvas; its dimensions are the relatively small 4X2 feet. In this particular artwork, the subject is a young woman sleeping under a tree; a relatively uncommon subject matter in art. However, there is a twist in its portrayal of the young woman. Instead of being portrayed a delicately beautiful, the artist goes for realism in its portrayal of a mid afternoon nap; her clothes and hat are askew, her mouth hangs open and she leans on the tree that serves as her pillow It’s the best nap for this woman, because it’s so free from dignity; she looks happily uncouth. In an age when women were subject to a far harsher cultural code of society than women live by today, the artwork argues the joy of “letting it all hang it out” and forgetting one’s responsibilities by giving up concern for appearances.

The artwork’s organic logic that supports Angeli’s argument is the juxtaposition between the realism of the young woman and her belongings paired with the ambiguity of the background. The background, the life that she’s escaping through her nap is blurry; the foliage is merely green blots made with hurried brush strokes. He contrasts the blurry background with numerous details about her appearance; he captures the crease of her dress, the lines of her lips, etc.

The artwork succeeds according to its own rules by breaking them. By portraying the woman in a non-stereotyping light, the artist can accurately paint his critique on the place of women. His rules define the message of the work.

The Effects of Society on Female Behavior: Part 2

The second artwork that I feel does not succeed according to its own rules is Lucrezia Romana by Giapietrino, created using oil paint on wood and measuring 14 X 9 feet. Its date of creation is ambiguous; it is believed to be made ca. 1510-1525. Its argument, like Angeli’s, is based on societal expectations of women.

Giapietrino uses Lucrezia Romana as a testament to the glories of the Renaissance. The piece is based off of a historical female figure, Lucrezia Romana. According to the information panel next to the painting, the story of Romana was that she was a Patrician matron who was the unfortunate victim of rape; the piece portrays her subsequent suicide. During Giapietrino’s time (the Renaissance), women were symbols of glorified subservience; they married, had sons, were loyal to their husbands, and were symbols of purity and moral goodness. The Renaissance was different in each European country it took place in, and each place gave hints of the idiosyncrasies of that culture. Italy, for example, was well known for the influence of Catholicism on its culture. Lucrezia was the ideal woman of her time.

The artwork’s organic logic reveals the Renaissance’s influence on the work. True to that time period, Romana is depicted with many symbols of the female morality of the Renaissance; she is young, voluptuous, full and full of vitality- her curves depict her physical healthiness. The most dominant part of the artwork’s organic logic is the large crucifix adorning the woman’s neck; a huge symbol of Christianity. Though mostly nude, the artist emphasizes her chastity by covering her genitalia.

The artwork does not succeed according to its own rules because of its subject matter; suicide. In the heavily Christian-influenced Renaissance, a suicide would have been a mortal sin. Since this artwork seeks to glorify woman as they were in the Renaissance ideal, Romana falls from a lady of grace to a weak sinner. To spend so much time glorifying her virtues and then have her one vice be the center of the work makes no sense.

The two women portrayed in the artwork each are examples of society influencing one’s personal behavior. The first artwork goes against propriety, and shows the woman exactly how she is- imperfect, and content. The other is glorified by society only to be damned by bad luck. These works show the power of rebellion against society; by doing so, one can find peace or great sorrow.

Chazen essay example 5: Clark Chism

Our fifth exemplary essay comes from Clark Chism, who thoughtfully concentrated his analysis on the lighting of each artwork. Notice also the detail of the concluding points of contrast, through which Clark demonstrates that differences in execution lead to different interpretive experiences in the viewer’s engagement with the artwork.

The Strike of the Blacksmiths was painted by German artist Theodor Esser in 1892. It is a large oil on canvas painting measuring some seven and a half feet wide and nearly six feet tall. As its title implies, the painting depicts striking blacksmiths; the argument that the artist is making, however, can only be discerned from the visual detail. Through the painting, Esser is supporting the smith’s cause and making clear the forces that they are facing (namely, the State). Esser’s sharply contrasting portrayals of each side serve to make his point.

The painting casts the smiths in a humanizing light, or, rather, a lack of light; their placement in the dark part of the painting clearly implies their oppressed state. The smiths’ faces and body language clearly show emotion as they are cornered in some sort of walled-in space. On the other hand, the soldiers are painted as identical figures marching in a line, with each indistinguishable from one another. Esser gives the soldiers no emotion, no tribulations about fighting their fellow countrymen; indeed, their faces are not even seen; they are simply depicted as faceless agents of the State bearing down on the brave but hopeless strikers. The ominous, towering soldiers march in the “light” of the State’s power and organization, while the smiths are in the darkness of oppression. Notably, this use of light, by placing the antagonists in the light and the protagonists in the shadow, manages to subvert the common paradigm.

Overall, The Strike of the Blacksmiths is a very well-executed painting. The sharp contrast between the strikers and soldiers makes clear the conflict between the two sides. More importantly, the sympathetic (lack of) light that the strikers are placed in clearly and elegantly shows where Esser’s sympathies lie.

In contrast to the deftly executed The Strike of the Blacksmiths, Fransesco Simonini’s undated 17th century piece Harbor Scene comes off as muddled.

The piece is a landscape, with the main focus being a large, moldering castle slightly to the left of center. The castle is offset by a ship facing end-on to the viewer, which does not fit in with the rest of the image and almost appears to be added as an afterthought. In the extreme foreground, Simonini has placed some obligatory human figures for scale; they don’t add anything to the painting by fitting into the picture in any special or creative way. Indistinct mountains compose the background; it would have been just as well had they been left out, because they contribute nothing to their overall picture.

The worst feature of Harbor Scene is its awkward use of light. Simonini does indeed use light realistically, accurately depicting shadows from a light source low on the horizon and to the left of the frame. Unfortunately, this places much of the canvas in shadow; unlike The Strike of the Blacksmiths, however, this shadow serves no symbolic purpose and only serves to make much of the painting dark and hard to see.

Harbor Scene and The Strike of the Blacksmiths show sharp contrasts. In The Strike of the Blacksmiths, the human figures are purposefully arranged and depicted to bring out the painting’s meaning; Harbor Scene simply features slapped-on people at the bottom of the frame with no real significance. The Strike of the Blacksmiths features creative use of light and dark to make the painting’s point, while Harbor Scene attempts to be flashy through realistic use of light and shadow, but only ends up making the whole frame too dark. All in all, the deliberately arranged scene and impressionistic style of The Strike of the Blacksmiths looks more “real” than the slapped-together Harbor Scene, despite the more finely detailed realism of the latter.

Chazen essay example 4: Anoushka Syed

Here is a fourth model approach to the Chazen assignment, by Anoushka Syed. Notice especially the free way Anoushka moves between details of the images and their political arguments.

There is no one correct way to justly critique a piece of art, but one approach to analyzing art is to see if the brushstrokes, lighting, composition, and other aspects effectively contribute to the theme or message without falling to clichés. Hubert Robert’s Capriccio of Classical Ruins with Boats is such an example. Although this “oil on canvas” was painted in 1760 (when most artists abided by traditional rules), it successfully diverges from the clichés of artwork. The subject integrates ideas that are completely realistic yet never found together, creating an enigma that combines ancient architecture and modern boats and people sailing right up to them. Even the title plays on the irregularities of the painting. Capriccio, by definition, is a free and fluctuating music composition, which could be associated with the freeness of the subject choice of things that wouldn’t ordinarily be found together. However, capriccio also means prank, which is what the artist aims to play with this painting. At first, the artwork seems traditional; one has to look closely to see the atypical scene portrayed that combines two ordinary subjects, but grouping them so it’s unusual. In this way, Robert is able to create beauty and chaos while playing a trick on the viewers. Moreover, Robert is successful because he uses all the elements of art to compliment his painting that fools us into thinking that he is a traditional painter. Robert utilizes traditionally fine and blended brush strokes to create realism. The natural lighting that comes from the background and triangular groupings add dimensionality, and the calm hues create a relaxed mood for the viewer. Perhaps, Robert is saying that society doesn’t pay enough attention to what is placed before them, giving credibility before it’s due. One can infer this because one would think that Robert’s painting is of a serious and realistic subject until one looks closely and analyzes the unlikelihood of the scene.

Antonio Saura’s Giulietta takes on a completely different theme and message than Capriccio of Classical Ruins with Boats. This 1960s painting attempts to entirely separate itself from the norms of art by using an abstract method, but the argument of the painting is lost in the medium. The painting could be contending that the media (portrayed by the TV-like box around the figure’s face) objectifies women through idealizing them (because Juliet of Romeo and Juliet is a conventional symbol of beauty in our culture). However, the theme isn’t evident in the painting as a whole because the artistic elements do not add to this hypothesis. The viewer wonders if this artwork is really about a woman because there are no feminine attributes given to the figure. One wouldn’t even know that it was a woman if it weren’t for the title. Perhaps Saura is implying that the media strips women of their femininity, but that contradicts the first theme mentioned. Furthermore, the composition of the woman’s face is distracting and the unclear emotion on her visage creates ambiguity in the viewer’s analysis. The overall composition is also distracting because there is no real focal point. The smudges on the bottom of the painting draws one’s attention away from the face, which one would think should be the focus since nothing else is present. Lastly, the color and brushstroke style also fail to add to the theme of the piece. The dull gray, black, and white say nothing about the message, and the brushstrokes only emphasize the abstractness. Overall, the theme is missing in the abstraction of Giulietta, which diminishes the strength of the message Saura is relaying to his audience.

Hubert Robert and Antonio Saura display obvious differences in painting styles, possibly due to the influences of their time periods. One cannot justly compare which painting is “better” because the two artworks wouldn’t be classified in the same category. However, both artists share one imperative similarity: they attempt to diverge from the norms of their societies and do so on their own terms. For that reason, both should be considered noteworthy and respected.

Model Essay: René’s Essay 2

René has been generous enough to share publicly her final draft for Essay 2. This is a remarkably thoughtful and persuasive essay that demonstrates the perfect balance of argumentation textual analysis.

I should add that I know it took René substantial hard work and rewriting to develop her essay to this point. Believe me when I tell you that even members of the instructional staff couldn’t write an essay like this without several hours of hard revision work.

Categorizing Stories as “Characters Challenging Institutional Power” or “Stories That Challenge Society’s Definition of Knowledge”

By creating a library scheme based on how each of the eight stories resist social codes, readers gain a better sense of understanding of the characters’ development and purpose in the story. It would be best to divide the stories into genres based on the type of social codes they resist. “The Yellow Wallpaper,” “The Bridegroom,” “Mumu,” “Araby,” “A Soldier’s Home,” and “A Passion in the Desert” would all fall under the genre of stories whose characters intentionally or inadvertently challenge societal codes concerning institutional powers, while “The Library of Babel” and “Emma Zunz” would fall under the genre of stories that challenge society’s definition of knowledge.

Charlotte Perkins Gilman’s “The Yellow Wallpaper” exemplifies a female protagonist trapped inside the institution of women’s oppression, both literally and figuratively. John gradually begins treating her more like at child by calling her “little girl,” (88) carrying her like a baby, and laughing at her suffering, yet she dismisses his behavior because “one expects that in marriage” (80). By writing in her journal and peeling off the yellow wallpaper, she resists her husband’s orders to rest; this symbolizes women’s attempt to free themselves of the oppression that comes from the institution of marriage. The woman in the wallpaper trying to escape is a metaphor for the narrator’s struggle to escape the oppression of society’s expectations. In “The Bridegroom” by Ha Jin, Huang Baowen desperately tries to conform to the gender and sexuality roles defined by his communist society. Huang embodies a balance between femininity and masculinity that confuses the narrator, who describes his son-in-law as respected by other men for his martial arts skills, yet as “delicate” as a woman. Chief Miao’s definition of homosexuality as a “social disease, like gambling, or prostitution, or syphilis” (211) represents the perspective of the “institution” that sees it as a crime. The institution in “The Bridegroom” can also reflect the actions of governments in general, including the U.S., that limit a person’s rights based on their definition of masculinity or sexuality.

Ivan Turgenev’s “Mumu” revolves around the institution of authority and social class. The abuse of power is a central theme in this story, as shown through the old lady’s irrational behavior, which questions why people in authority use cruelty to demonstrate power. As a person with disabilities, Gerasim is consistently referred to as an animal or sub-human by other characters throughout the story, such as when the old lady says she has absolutely no use for the “ungrateful creature” (65). Characters with power never notice the pain they inflict on their subordinates, such as when the old lady’s orders Gerasim to kill his dog, his only true friend in life. James Joyce takes from his own experiences as a young boy living in Dublin to illustrate the political tensions between Ireland and Britain in “Araby.” When Araby arrives at the bazaar, the British woman who speak down to him with a “sense of duty” lead him to his epiphany that his fancy for the girl is not worth the trouble (104). Araby’s “humble” reply demonstrates obedience to the British woman and represents the Irishmen’s inferiority to the British (104).

In “A Soldier’s Home” by Ernest Hemingway, Krebs returns from war and realizes that the American social code that puts pride in war and in soldiers does not connect with the hardships he witnessed in Europe. It is ironic that the institution that once put pride into him now overwhelms him with feelings of isolation and alienation that he distances himself from what he once considered his home. He ultimately decides to conform to society’s standards by settling down and getting a job so that “his life will go smoothly” (113). Balzac’s “A Passion in the Desert” criticizes two major social codes: human’s habit of “taming” nature as though it is our duty, as well as the imperialism of France in Egypt. The latter can be viewed as a more economically developed country trying to “tame” developing countries as though it were its duty. When the soldier shatters the loving bond he once had with the panther, it exemplifies the negative consequences of imperialism.

In Borges’ “The Library of Babel,’ the power struggle is not between two opposing people or types of being, but has more to do with the human struggle to understand the meaning in the universe. While there is a finite number of books, knowledge is considered “infinite” because the library is “unlimited and cyclical” (125). People begin to vandalize the library because they feel overwhelmed by the idea that the answers to life’s important questions are in the library but it can take lifetimes to search for a single book. “Emma Zunz” challenges the definition of knowledge by arguing that what we know is merely what we think we know. Throughout this story, it is ambiguous whether what Emma Zunz claims to know is actually true. When Emma clearly twists the facts about murdering Mr. Loewenthal so that “substantially it was true,” she challenges the definition of knowledge by proving that it is all subjective.

On posses and possession: minding your own esses

There are a few spelling errors too minor to be worth their own Reminder among the 44 but yet sufficiently common to merit a short post. They have in common the difference in how American pronounce the letter “s” and how the words we have inherited from England use that same letter.

The most frequent problem is that associated with the possessive.

Let us say that Borges had a cat. He seems like the kind of writer likely to have had a cat, after all.

That cat is Borges’s cat—not, in conventional usage, “Borges’ cat.”

Likewise, the pen with which Dickens wrote Great Expectations is not Dickens’ pen nor, heaven forfend, Dicken’s pen; instead, the quill in question is Dickens’s pen.

There is one major exception to this rule that tends to flummox readers. For historical reasons I have never fully understood, classical figures—most famously Jesus—tend to form their possessive without the additional “s.” Ergo: Jesus’ hairdo; Socrates’ mustache.

(I hope Socrates didn’t have a mustache, though it must have been a nuisance to shave every morning with a straight razor.)

This problem tends to compound itself with Frederick Douglass.

Poor Frederick Douglass! He struggled for decades to teach himself to read and write and thereby to undermine the slave-holding system that was his life’s work to destroy, only to have the men and women who read his autobiography write about Douglass’ life or Douglas’s life (ick).

It is—it really is—Douglass’s life, and what a life it is!

One last note, and the one that set me off here. More than one of the essays I have had the opportunity to read this weekend use “posses” for “possess.” As in “This shoe is the finest that I possess.”

A posse is a gaggle of vigilantes set out to avenge some wrong, real or imagined. Remember the torch-and-pitchfork mob in Beauty and the Beast? Totally a posse.

If you have more than one posse you have 1) bad, bad news, and 2) posses.

If, on the other hand, you own something—a prized Pez dispenser, let’s say—that Pez dispenser is something you possess. If someone else owns it, that is an heirloom dispenser that she or he possesses.

Written in the style of a 44 Reminders quiz question, the appropriate sentence would go something like this:

“Douglass’s posse possesses Pez dispensers aplenty.”

Two images of the Comedy of Errors set at American Players Theatre

As you consider William Brown’s interpretation of The Comedy of Errors for Essay 4, consider as one element of his argument the design of the set.

Here are two images of the wonderful American Players Theatre Comedy of Errors set, designed by Kevin Depinet.

Set of the 2009 American Players Theatre performance of The Comedy of Errors, designed by Kevin Depinet. Picture taken 15 July 2009 by Erica M.

Set of the 2009 American Players Theatre performance of The Comedy of Errors, designed by Kevin Depinet. Picture taken 15 July 2009 by Mike A. Shapiro.

What is analysis?

In the instructions for answering the Dickens midterm essay, we wrote

Support [your essay’s] thesis by closely reading (see “How to Close Read Fiction”) several SHORT, important quotations. Remember that close reading (focusing on the significance of details, words, images) is not the same as translating (recounting the story in your own words).

Many writers succeeded wonderfully in using the language of Great Expectations to develop a close reading of the text, but not all did. Here, then, is a short primer on the difference between textual analysis and illustrative quotation.

Illustrative quotation:

At the end of GE, Pip marries Estella: “I saw the shadow of no parting from her” (484).

This kind of bald quotation doesn’t help your reader understand where the evidence for this argument comes from: how do you read marriage implied here?

Textual analysis:

The last line of GE—”I saw the shadow of no parting from her”—suggests at least three readings.

First, Pip sees—though only in a shadowy way—that he and Estella are unlikely to separate again: this may imply marriage, though it more likely implies a lifelong friendship, as that between him and Biddy. We should note that it is not quite sufficient that Pip sees no shadow parting: Pip has a history of not seeing things of consequence until rather too late. Second, he perhaps sees “the shadow of ‘No’ parting from her”: he proposed marriage to her and she answered in a way consistent with the Estella we have known since Chapter 8.

A third reading, however, seems most likely. The “shadow of no parting” alludes to Pip’s Chapter 38 epiphany that Estella has been raised “to wreak Miss Havisham’s revenge on men”: “I saw in this, the distinct shadow of the darkened and unhealthy house in which her life was hidden from the sun” (302–03). In the last line of the novel, Pip sees not “the shadow of no parting” but “the shadow of no parting”: sitting in the ruins of Satis House, Estella has finally lifted from herself the shadow of Havisham’s vengeance. Estella may never marry Pip, and, indeed, she may part from him two minutes after the last scene concludes; however, we know that she has at least and at last parted from Havisham and that she has beaten a lifetime’s training and indoctrination at about the same moment Pip has.

This second reading is a good deal longer, of course. This is you have two pages to answer this sort of question: we assume that it will take a good deal of space to thoroughly pick apart the levels of meaning in Dickens’s language.

Pip’s poor dreams

Larry observes in the assignment for Essay 3 that Pip’s five dreams are on pages 15, 79, 258, and 339. It’s unclear what dream is discussed on 339, and, more obscurely, there are only four entries for five dreams.

The first three seem to work.

15:

If I slept at all that night, it was only to imagine myself drifting down the river on a strong spring-tide, to the Hulks; a ghostly pirate calling out to me through a speaking-trumpet, as I passed the gibbet-station, that I had better come ashore and be hanged there at once, and not put it off. I was afraid to sleep, even if I had been inclined, for I knew that at the first faint dawn of morning I must rob the pantry. There was no doing it in the night, for there was no getting a light by easy friction then; to have got one I must have struck it out of flint and steel, and have made a noise like the very pirate himself rattling his chains.

(This and all quotations drawn from the Gutenberg e-text.)

79:

I had sadly broken sleep when I got to bed, through thinking of the strange man taking aim at me with his invisible gun, and of the guiltily coarse and common thing it was, to be on secret terms of conspiracy with convicts,—a feature in my low career that I had previously forgotten. I was haunted by the file too. A dread possessed me that when I least expected it, the file would reappear. I coaxed myself to sleep by thinking of Miss Havisham’s, next Wednesday; and in my sleep I saw the file coming at me out of a door, without seeing who held it, and I screamed myself awake.

258:

Miserably I went to bed after all, and miserably thought of Estella, and miserably dreamed that my expectations were all cancelled, and that I had to give my hand in marriage to Herbert’s Clara, or play Hamlet to Miss Havisham’s Ghost, before twenty thousand people, without knowing twenty words of it.

However, on 339 there is only this general reference to Pip’s dreams:

…for my nights had been agitated and my rest broken by fearful dreams…

What, then, are the other dreams which Claire Slagter identifies as evidence of Pip’s inner turmoil? I don’t have access to Slagter’s article, but my guess is that there are only four specific dreams, and that the fourth dream comes earlier in GE rather than later. Here is Pip, sleeping the night before he moves to London:

159:

All night there were coaches in my broken sleep, going to wrong places instead of to London, and having in the traces, now dogs, now cats, now pigs, now men,—never horses. Fantastic failures of journeys occupied me until the day dawned and the birds were singing.

If this is right, then the four dreams Dickens describes occur before Pip learns that Magwitch is his patron.

However, I think the motif of dreaming in GE is far more sophisticated than just these four references would suggest—indeed, the “inner turmoil” Slagter apparently discusses appears to be attached to another kind of emotional unrest.

Visit the Gutenberg e-text of Great Expectations and run your own search for “dream.” You should find 17 appearances of the word. I’ll list them in abbreviation here so you can survey their sweep of meaning:

1. My dream was out; my wild fancy was surpassed by sober reality; Miss Havisham was going to make my fortune on a grand scale.
2. I acknowledged his attention incoherently, and began to think this was a dream.
3. But still I felt as if my eyes must start out of my head, and as if this must be a dream.
4. We sat in the dreamy room among the old strange influences which had so wrought upon me…
5. “a good fellow, with impetuosity and hesitation, boldness and diffidence, action and dreaming, curiously mixed in him.”
6. Miserably I went to bed after all, and miserably thought of Estella, and miserably dreamed that my expectations were all cancelled…
7. Miss Havisham’s intentions towards me, all a mere dream…
8. Then I washed and dressed while they knocked the furniture about and made a dust; and so, in a sort of dream or sleep-waking…
9. …my nights had been agitated and my rest broken by fearful dreams…
10. “I have seen it, Herbert, and dreamed of it, ever since the fatal night of his arrival.”
11. I had the wildest dreams concerning him, and woke unrefreshed…
12. I would tell him, little as he cared for such poor dreams, that I had loved Estella dearly and long…
13. “Pip,” said he, “we won’t talk about ‘poor dreams‘…”
14. “But add the case that you had loved her, Pip, and had made her the subject of those ‘poor dreams‘…”
15. I had never dreamed of Joe’s having paid the money…
16. But I had as sound a sleep in that lodging as in the most superior accommodation the Boar could have given me, and the quality of my dreams was about the same as in the best bedroom.
17. “But that poor dream, as I once used to call it, has all gone by…”

(You can find where these passages come from by looking them up on the Gutenberg text and then finding the nearest chapter marker.)

Notes on the Dickens midterm essays

I was responsible for grading most of the essays answering the tricky question about the effectiveness of the two endings of Great Expectations. In the course of grading these essays I’ve seen a few analytical weaknesses you might work to correct as you draft future essays—particularly Essay 4, in which you must write at further length about the ending of Matthew Bourne’s Swan Lake.

1. Realism

Many essays anchor their critiques of the effectiveness of Dickens’s two endings on their comparative realism. Writers often point to the original ending—in which Estella and Pip remain romantically if not emotionally estranged—as the more realistic of the two, on the basis of several arguments. For example, it seems somewhat unlikely that Pip and Estella would run into each other in the ruins of Satis House. This is a novelistic coincidence, though, on which more anon. The two strongest arguments against the realism of the published ending are likely these:

• Estella’s character seems unlikely to change after one bad marriage;
• Pip seems unlikely to retain a fiery passion for a girl he fell in love with after three decades of rejection

However, if we were to throw out all the elements of GE that are unrealistic, we’d have little left. Consider:

• Magwitch’s fidelity to a small boy with whom he exchanges some dozen words over twelve hours—the man is a criminal, but he is loyal to a boy?
• Miss Havisham. Is a woman with so strong a will likely to be so easily crushed by a man she scarcely knows?
• Pip sitting in a coach behind Magwitch’s convict-courier.
• A good half-dozen of the characters, who seem drawn from no world I recognize. Have you ever met a Mrs Joe? An Uncle Pumblechook?

The list could go on.

Larry suggested in lecture that GE is generally thought of as a work of Realism, but Dickens’s Realism differs markedly from the idea of realism that we have today.

Most nineteenth-century novels lean on coincidence: Jane Eyre, to give one example, would be quite a different novel were Jane not to accidentally land in the company of her estranged cousins. To a nineteenth-century writer, coincidence and unrealism were simply marks of the divine: God—or the author—would necessarily arrange things so that they reached a meaningful conclusion.

Would we argue that Swan Lake is unrealistic? We would argue, instead, that the themes of Matthew Bourne’s choreography do not loyally represent our experience of the world. (Though that would be a hard argument to make.)

2. Tone

Several essays argue for the effectiveness of endings on the basis of the appropriate tone of one (typically the unpublished ending) and the inappropriate tone of the other.

Many of these arguments observe that the tone of GE is generally “pessimistic.”

Here is why this argument does not move me.

First, the assignment asks writers to base their analysis on the organic logic of the novel. Although the tone of the novel is certainly significant, its tone is not clearly connected to its logic. To make the connection you would need to argue that the tone is connected to the themes and structure of the novel.

Second, “tone” is such a vague concept that it cannot be written about clearly. What is tone? How is it conveyed? Will every reader experience the same tone in the novel? And then there are problems of description. For example, what does it mean to suggest that GE has a “pessimistic tone”? What does pessimism mean, and how does Dickens’s pessimism differ from the general? Writing about the tone of a novel is perhaps as vague as writing about the tone of a symphony: both works clearly have a tone, but writing about that tone requires an admirable specificity of expression.

3. The reader’s pleasure

Several essays remarked on the varied pleasures a good ending can afford a reader. In particular, two versions of this argument have appeared with some regularity:

• The reader would like an ending that is pleasurable or satisfying, either because the ending fits the cliché of a comfortable genre (e.g. romance) or because the ending is interesting in that it rejects the cliché.
• The reader who is faced with an ambiguous ending has the pleasure of imagining an ending that is appropriate or interesting.

The writer, I suppose, must confront this question of how best to satisfy the reader who is paying in time and money for the experience of the book. As a literary scholar, however, you must eschew the simple pleasures of the cliché for a far richer pleasure: why, of all the satisfying or unsatisfying endings Dickens could have written, did he choose this one?

It is a bit of a cheat, I fear, to write simply that an ambiguous ending lets the reader fill in the blanks as she or he will. The reductio of this argument goes something like this: if we wanted the pleasure of filling in blanks we would write our own novels.

Instead, ambiguity is an intent. Why would Dickens craft an ending that leaves his themes unresolved and his characters’ arcs incomplete? Another way of thinking of this question goes something like this: is ambiguity itself a theme of GE? After all, the source of Pip’s wealth is ambiguous for several hundred pages; the reason for his love of Estella remains ambiguous throughout the novel.

Next: what is closure? Who decides whether a text achieves closure? What does closure come from? Is closure anything more than a cliché? Do we say that a narrative achieves closure when it has resolved the story in the way such texts historically have resolved such stories? What does it mean for a story to be resolved? We know that Wemmick marries Miss Skiffins and Herbert, Clara, and Joe, Biddy; but we also know that marriages are often miserable failures: consider the Pockets—the whole lot of them; consider Mrs Joe. How does a marriage provide any more closure than a character’s uncertain singleness?