ENG A11 MIDTERM
By Dr. Sean Braune
Points 100
Available Wednesday, February 14th at 5 PM—Sunday, February 18th at 11:59 PM
Length: 6 pages with a page defined as approximately 250 words, so 1500 words.
Think of this MIDTERM as an INVITATION to explore what you have learned so far.
Instructions for the essay question: there is no set “essay format” to how you answer.
Show me you can make sense of the quotes in relation to the prompt question.
Consider the “prompt” as an invitation that is intended to demonstrate what you have
learned so far about the works we have studied.
There is no expectation of using “outside sources.” You may cite lecture comments in
the body of the text, but there is no need for a bibliography. You may bring up material
not directly present in these quotes and clips, but be sure to keep your focus on
these quotes and clips.
PICK FOUR OF THE EIGHT CHOICES BELOW (EXCERPTS AND CLIPS) AND
RESPOND TO THE PROMPT QUESTION.
PROMPT QUESTION:
The focus of this class is on narrative and especially the way narrative has changed
throughout history and has led us to the 20th century. In the 20th century narrative has
become something closer to textuality and discourse, which means that narrative and
the stories that we tell are wrapped up in culture, history, politics, philosophy, and in
notions of the self in general.
The philosopher and mathematician G.W. Leibniz asked, “why is there something
rather than nothing?” The sociologist Jean Baudrillard re-formulated Leibniz’s
question as: “why is there nothing rather than something?” This question features
heavily in relation to the texts of the course, especially in terms of meaning-making and
the challenges of meaning-making in modernity. This question directly links to the
difficulty of creating meaning in Waiting for Godot, The Balcony, The Bell Jar, “Howl,” as
well as the films that we have looked at. All of these texts in the 20th century have
grappled with the fear and anxiety that respond to the first two World Wars of the 20th
century. In that historical moment and throughout the century, meaningbecame
indefinite and contingent. The challenge during our time has become the individual
construction of self, which has been indirectly tasked to each of us in a capitalist
society that privileges consumption and monetary value over community, connection,
and empathy. This manifests in terms of the contradictory nature of meaning in the
twentieth century, which still grapples with such fundamental questions as “why are we
here?” and “how do we tell the story of the self?”
EIGHT CHOICES BELOW (EXCERPTS AND CLIPS)
QUOTE ONE:
“I saw the best minds of my generation destroyed by madness, starving hysterical
naked, dragging themselves through the negro streets at dawn looking for an angry fix,
angelheaded hipsters burning for the ancient heavenly connection to the starry dynamo
in the machinery of night, who poverty and tatters and hollow-eyed and high sat up
smoking in the supernatural darkness of cold-water flats floating across the tops of cities
contemplating jazz” (Allen Ginsberg, “Howl”).
QUOTE TWO:
“Moloch! Moloch! Nightmare of Moloch! Moloch the loveless! Mental Moloch! Moloch the
heavy judger of men!
Moloch the incomprehensible prison! Moloch the crossbone soulless jailhouse and
Congress of sorrows! Moloch whose buildings are judgment! Moloch the vast stone of
war! Moloch the stunned governments!
Moloch whose mind is pure machinery! Moloch whose blood is running money! Moloch
whose fingers are ten armies! Moloch whose breast is a cannibal dynamo! Moloch
whose ear is a smoking tomb!” (Allen Ginsberg, “Howl”).
QUOTE THREE: LUCKY’S SPEECH:
“LUCKY:
Given the existence as uttered forth in the public works of Puncher and Wattmann of a
personal God quaquaquaqua with white beard quaquaquaqua outside time without
extension who from the heights of divine apathia divine athambia divine aphasia loves
us dearly with some exceptions for reasons unknown but time will tell and suffers like
the divine Miranda with those who for reasons unknown but time will tell are plunged in
torment plunged in fire whose fire flames if that continues and who can doubt it will fire
the firmament that is to say blast hell to heaven so blue still and calm so calm with a
calm which even though intermittent is better than nothing but not so fast and
considering what is more that as a result of the labors left unfinished crowned by the
Acacacacademy of Anthropopopometry of Essy-in-Possy of Testew and Cunard it is
established beyond all doubt all other doubt than that which clings to the labors of men
that as a result of the labors unfinished of Testew and Cunnard it is established as
hereinafter but not so fast for reasons unknown that as a result of the public works of
Puncher and Wattmann it is established beyond all doubt that in view of the labors of
Fartov and Belcher left unfinished for reasons unknown of Testew and Cunard left
unfinished it is established what many deny that man in Possy of Testew and Cunard
that man in Essy that man in short that man in brief in spite of the strides of alimentation
and defecation wastes and pines wastes and pines and concurrently simultaneously
what is more for reasons unknown in spite of the strides of physical culture the practice
of sports such as tennis football running cycling swimming flying floating riding gliding
conating camogie skating tennis of all kinds dying flying sports of all sorts autumn
summer winter winter tennis of all kinds hockey of all sorts penicillin and succedanea in
a word I resume flying gliding golf over nine and eighteen holes tennis of all sorts in a
word for reasons unknown in Feckham Peckham Fulham Clapham namely concurrently
simultaneously what is more for reasons unknown but time will tell fades away I resume
Fulham Clapham in a word the dead loss per head since the death of Bishop Berkeley
being to the tune of one inch four ounce per head approximately by and large more or
less to the nearest decimal good measure round figures stark naked in the stockinged
feet in Connemara in a word for reasons unknown no matter what matter the facts are
there and considering what is more much more grave that in the light of the labors lost
of Steinweg and Peterman it appears what is more much more grave that in the light the
light the light of the labors lost of Steinweg and Peterman that in the plains in the
mountains by the seas by the rivers running water running fire the air is the same and
then the earth namely the air and then the earth in the great cold the great dark the air
and the earth abode of stones in the great cold alas alas in the year of their Lord six
hundred and something the air the earth the sea the earth abode of stones in the great
deeps the great cold on sea on land and in the air I resume for reasons unknown in
spite of the tennis the facts are there but time will tell I resume alas alas on on in short
in fine on on abode of stones who can doubt it I resume but not so fast I resume the
skull fading fading fading and concurrently simultaneously what is more for reasons
unknown in spite of the tennis on on the beard the flames the tears the stones so blue
so calm alas alas on on the skull the skull the skull the skull in Connemara in spite of
the tennis the labors abandoned left unfinished graver still abode of stones in a word I
resume alas alas abandoned unfinished the skull the skull in Connemara in spite of the
tennis the skull alas the stones Cunard” (Samuel Beckett, Waiting for Godot).
QUOTE FOUR:
“VLADIMIR:
All right, you may go.
BOY:
What am I to tell Mr. Godot, Sir?
VLADIMIR:
Tell him . . . (he hesitates) . . . tell him you saw us. (Pause.) You did see us, didn’t you?
BOY:
Yes Sir.
He steps back, hesitates, turns and exit running. The light suddenly fails. In a moment it
is night. The moon rises at back, mounts in the sky, stands still, shedding a pale light on
the scene.
VLADIMIR:
At last! (Estragon gets up and goes towards Vladimir, a boot in each hand. He puts
them down at edge of stage, straightens and contemplates the moon.) # What are you
doing?
ESTRAGON:
Pale for weariness.
VLADIMIR:
Eh?
ESTRAGON:
Of climbing heaven and gazing on the likes of us” (Samuel Beckett, Waiting for Godot).
QUOTE FIVE:
“THE JUDGE (to the Executioner, and going up to him) : Ah! ah! your pleasure depends
on me. You like to thrash, eh? I’m pleased with you, Executioner! Masterly mountain of
meat, hunk of beef that’s set in motion at a word from me! (He pretends to look at
himself in the Executioner.) Mirror that glorifies me! Image that I can touch, I love you.
Never would I have the strength or skill to leave streaks of fire on her back. Besides,
what could I do with such strength and skill? (He touches him.) Are you there? You’re all
there, my huge arm, too heavy for me, too big, too fat for my shoulder, walking at my
side all by itself! Arm, hundredweight of meat, without you I’d be nothing. . . . (To the
Thief) And without you too, my child. You’re my two perfect complements. . . . Ah, what
a fine trio we make! (To the Thief) But you, you have a privilege that he hasn’t, nor I
either, that of priority. My being a judge is an emanation of your being a thief. You need
only refuse– but you’d better not!–need only refuse to be who you are–what you are,
therefore who you are–for me to cease to be . . . to vanish, evaporated. Burst.
Volatilized. Denied. Hence: good born of. . . . What then? What then? But you won’t
refuse, will you? You won’t refuse to be a thief? That would be wicked. It would be
criminal. You’d deprive me of being! (Imploringly) Say it, my child, my love, you won’t
refuse?
THE THIEF (coyly) : I might.
THE JUDGE : What’s that? What’s that you say? You’d refuse? Tell me where. And tell
me again what you’ve stolen.
THE THIEF (curtly, and getting up) : I won’t.
THE JUDGE : Tell me where. Don’t be cruel. . . .
THE THIEF : Your tone is getting too familiar. I won’t have it!
THE JUDGE : Miss. . . . Madame. I beg of you. (He falls to his knees.) Look, I beseech
you. Don’t leave me in this position, waiting to be a judge. If there were no judge, what
would become of us, but what if there were no thieves?
THE THIEF (ironically) : And what if there weren’t?
THE JUDGE : It would be awful. But you won’t do that to me, will you? Please
understand me: I don’t mind your hiding, for as long as you can and as long as my
nerves can bear it, behind the refusal to confess–it’s all right to be mean and make me
yearn, even prance, make me dance, drool, sweat, whinny with impatience, crawl . . . do
you want me to crawl?
THE EXECUTIONER (to the Judge) : Crawl” (Jean Genet, The Balcony).
QUOTE SIX:
“I started adding up all the things I couldn't do.
I began with cooking.
My grandmother and my mother were such good cooks that I left everything to
them. They were always trying to teach me one dish or another, but I would just look on
and say, "Yes, yes, I see," while the instructions slid through my head like water, and
then I'd always spoil what I did so nobody would ask me to do it again.
I remember Jody, my best and only girlfriend at college in my freshman year, making me
scrambled eggs at her house one morning. They tasted unusual, and when I asked her
if she had put in anything extra, she said cheese and garlic salt. I asked who told her to
do that, and she said nobody, she just thought it up. But then, she was practical and a
sociology major.
I didn't know shorthand either.
This meant I couldn't get a good job after college. My mother kept telling me nobody
wanted a plain English major. But an English major who knew shorthand was something
else again. Everybody would want her. She would be in demand among all the
up-and-coming young men and she would transcribe letter after thrilling letter.
The trouble was, I hated the idea of serving men in any way. I wanted to dictate my own
thrilling letters. Besides, those little shorthand symbols in the book my mother showed
me seemed just as bad as let t equal time and let s equal the total distance.
My list grew longer.
I was a terrible dancer. I couldn't carry a tune. I had no sense of balance, and when we
had to walk down a narrow board with our hands out and a book on our heads in gym
class I always fell over. I couldn't ride a horse or ski, the two things I wanted to do most,
because they cost too much money. I couldn't speak German or read Hebrew or write
Chinese. I didn't even know where most of the old out-of-the-way countries the UN men
in front of me represented fitted in on the map.
For the first time in my life, sitting there in the soundproof heart of the UN building
between Constantin who could play tennis as well as simultaneously interpret and the
Russian girl who knew so many idioms, I felt dreadfully inadequate. The trouble was, I
had been inadequate all along, I simply hadn't thought about it.
The one thing I was good at was winning scholarships and prizes, and that era was
coming to an end.
I felt like a racehorse in a world without racetracks or a champion college footballer
suddenly confronted by Wall Street and a business suit, his days of glory shrunk to a
little gold cup on his mantel with a date engraved on it like the date on a tombstone.
I saw my life branching out before me like the green fig tree in the story.
From the tip of every branch, like a fat purple fig, a wonderful future beckoned and
winked. One fig was a husband and a happy home and children, and another fig was a
famous poet and another fig was a brilliant professor, and another fig was Ee Gee, the
amazing editor, and another fig was Europe and Africa and South America, and another
fig was Constantin and Socrates and Attila and a pack of other lovers with queer names
and offbeat professions, and another fig was an Olympic lady crew champion, and
beyond and above these figs were many more figs I couldn't quite make out” (Sylvia
Plath, The Bell Jar).
CLIP ONE:
Luis Buñuel and Salvador Dalí’s Un Chien Andalou: from the timestamp: 9:34-15:44
https://youtu.be/JbBfHy2qNeA?si=Juk2zAdx9XXXG36e&t=574
Links to an external site.
CLIP TWO:
Maya Deren’s Meshes of the Afternoon: from the timestamp: 3:11-6:48
https://youtu.be/vF9oAbOn2og?si=ezAQwzfFXTxsAE3a&t=191
Links to an external site.