The Chief's Fog

Throughout the first pages of "One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest", by Ken Kesey, the narrator makes repetitive references to some kind of fog that creates a thick layer of skim milk material that obstacles the patient's view and  listening skills. This fog comes from a fog machine that is started, apparently, every time the Big Nurse needs to get hold of a patient out of control. Having in mind the narrator's schizophrenia, it is challenging to understand the fog's nature; is it palpable or is it symbolic?

For example, the first time the fog was mentioned was when the narrator suffered a panic attack before getting shaved. He was seized by a group of people and suddenly the fog machine was started and he could not see six inches in front of him nor listen to anything else but the Big Nurse taking control over the situation.

Another time the fog was mentioned was in page 37, where the Chief says "Before noontime they're at the fog machine again but they haven't got it turned up full, it's not so thick but what I can see if I strain real hard." Bearing in mind that the person talking is schizophrenic, I believe the fog machine may be some type of medicine forced on patients that will limit their vision and senses in order to make it easier to manipulate them. There is a scene in which the narrator says, "On rare occasions, some fool might ask what he's being required to swallow" (page 30). I connect this to the fog and conclude that the red pills enforced on patients, and for which the nurses refuse to give an explanation, are part of a series of tranquilizers given to patients. These tranquilizers, either because they are needed on behalf of a critical patient or because the nurses are careless upon their excessive use, are the cause of the fog the narrator claims to suffer from every once in a while.

The fog does not only represent the physical impediment the patient is suffering from but also the mental repercussions it causes. The fact that nurses implement these type of measures on their patients demonstrates how the mental hospital they live in is not the democratic place they claim they are but rather a systematic space in which patients are subdued to clinical authority and expected to act as society wants them to act. The nurses seem annoyed by the patients and react harshly to the slightest hint of discomfort on their behalf; they use the fog in order to make their jobs easier and simply have the patients subdued into a state of strained vision instead of having to fight against them or help them understand the reasons of their expected behavior.Yes, patients might be insane, but from what has been described there has not really been a need to make use of the fog and, nevertheless, there it is.

Questioning the Bible

Watching Waiting for Godot was a very different experience from the one I had while reading the play. Watching certain details and listening to specific parts of the conversation between Vladimir and Estragon made me notice things I had ignored before.

After reading the play, I hardly remembered or even gave importance to the beginning of the story. However, watching the movie made this initial scene a lot more relevant in my afterthoughts. For example, I had not realized the importance of Didi’s hat; the way in which he takes it off and examines it after certain thoughts. I had also forgotten the fact that Didi and Gogo make reference to the past; they talk about how they “were” and where they had “traveled” as if some unspoken event had changed the nature of their lives. Another thing that popped up to me was Didi’s frightfulness towards dreams. Nevertheless, what surprised me the most was how Didi straightforwardly questioned the Bible. To me, the most concerning of these realizations is the latter. 

I remember reading something about Vladimir and Estragon making some vague allusion to God and perhaps a Biblical name. Nonetheless, watching the movie made me realize that these references were not vague at all. In fact, Didi is pretty straightforward and wonders, or rather challenges, why only one of the four gospels talks about a thief being saved. Moreover, Didi questions why it is that we, the human race, believe that single gospel and not the other three. Not only is it one evangelist of four who makes reference to a thief being saved, but two do not even mention thieves and the third says both thieves abused Jesus, or our Savior, because he would not save them. And why is it that men believe the version of that single, merciful evangelist? Is it because we are afraid of believing the opposite? Because following any of the other two versions would slightly change the perception we have had of Jesus for the past 2,000 years. That would not be easy at all. Furthermore, believing on any of the other two versions would either mean that Jesus was crucified alone, that is, it would make the story less credible due to the differing versions, or it would mean Jesus was not actually a Savior or at least not forgiving enough.

The reflection one could make on this trivial piece of the dialogue is everlasting. However, Estragon closes the topic with the most convincing of all conclusions, “People are bloody ignorant apes” (Page 7). As Thomas Gray once put it, “Ignorance is bliss.” The less we dwell on the subject, the happier we will be. I feel a lot more tranquil believing on the sort of established evangelist version we have adapted rather than stressing on the implicit meaning of the other two versions (and the fact that one of the two is supported by half the number of gospels). People are bloody ignorant apes who are willing to believe on what is morally correct regardless of whether it is true or not. However, in this case, being ignorant gave men a reason to live for and a set of morals to follow. Let us not question the Bible too much Didi, we might not find its unveiling secrects very pleasant. 

Waiting For Who?

“Waiting for Godot” by Samuel Beckett is possibly the most confusing play I have ever read. Although noticeably funny, the play’s simplicity suggests that there is a lot more to it than what you read. For example Godot, who is he? Or rather, what is he? And why do Vladimir and Estragon keep waiting for him? Do they know him? And why doesn’t Godot he ever come?

To me, Godot is the personification of God. Why he never comes I cannot understand. However, the fact that Vladimir and Estragon are waiting for him somehow demonstrates how men in the real world are also always waiting for a God that might never come. What seems foolish though is how Vladimir and Estragon keep returning to the spot where they are to wait for Godot despite the fact that he never comes. Are men like that? Do we keep waiting for God even when we know deep inside that he might never come? I believe so. The problem is, why do we? Is it because we are afraid of abandoning the illusion that he might come or is it because we are afraid of what he might do if he did come and we were not there waiting for him? But then what kind of a benevolent God is he if he were to do something to us if he did not find us waiting for him?

Nevertheless, my questions go beyond the play’s title. The tree: What does it represent? Why did it grow leaves all of a sudden?  Does it represent life, the fact that it is a blossoming tree, or does it represent death, the fact that Didi and Gogo want to hang themselves from it?

Furthermore, Pozzo and Lucky intrigue me. Their love/hate relationship reminds me of the old guy’s relationship to his cocker in “The Stranger” by Albert Camus. Why does Lucky keep up with that? What sort of human being is he? And why does Pozzo become blind all of a sudden?

Finally, perhaps the most enduring question I have regards a tiny detail from the book. Except from Vladimir, why can’t anyone seem to remember anything from the day before? More importantly, why is Vladimir the only one who can remember?

Although the play is fun to read and its random dialogues and simple occurrences cause the reader to giggle, I believe I will not be able to grasp the play’s basic meaning and message before I am able to answer these questions. To me, the play resembles some kind of critique towards men and their blindness and weakness and everlasting hope of being saved. Nevertheless, I prefer to answer these thoughts before solidifying my shallow verdict. 

Foolish, Unreasonable Existence

“The irrationality of a thing is no argument against its existence, rather a condition of it.”

- Friedrich Nietzsche

Is existence absurd? Albert Camus’ novel, “The Stranger”, delivers an interesting approach to this and many other existentialist verdicts through the life and upcoming death of his character, Monsieur Meursault. Notwithstanding the fact that reading a phrase like “Existence is essentially absurd” may cause readers to giggle, reflect, or cry in despair, we can all agree that there is a reason for the statement. We all live, we all die; what is the point of being in a world where you will soon be forgotten and where your 70-year lifespan will have no effect on the infinite prevalence of the universe?

Several incidents throughout “The Stranger” attempt to touch on this existentialist conviction. The very beginning of the book, describing, or rather simply stating, Maman’s death is the base to realizing there is no difference whatsoever in her dying yesterday, today, or tomorrow. Camus expresses this sort of indifference towards existence by opening his novel with the ever-controversial declaration, “Maman died today. Or yesterday maybe, I don’t know” (Page 3). He again strengthens this point in page 24, where Meursault is pictured wondering to himself, “It occurred to me that another Sunday was over… Maman was buried now, I had to go back to work tomorrow, and that really, nothing had changed.” Nothing had changed except that his mother had died, which many might consider the most painful day in the life of a reasonable human being. However, what Camus is trying to say is that life goes on, another Sunday goes by, some work is to be done the next day, and so on. The world did not stop because Maman died, so why dwell helplessly over it?

In order to move on, I must include what the definition of absurd is according to the Oxford dictionary: “Absurd – unreasonable, illogical, inappropriate, foolish.” But why may men believe their existence is illogical or foolish? Camus once again approaches this ideology when Meursault decides to kill an Arab man for no apparent reason. Apparently,  the sun was hitting him too hard. What Camus is trying to deliver through this is how one’s life is meaningless; one moment you are in the sand, the next a random French existentialist decides to shoot you four times. Existence is illogical; we are all doomed at the end and, additionally, we have to live with the fear and incapability of doing anything to prevent it. I believe existentialists hold on to this philosophy as a way to let go of their human instinct against the inevitability of death. They claim existence is absurd, so why give any importance to it?

Nevertheless, Camus makes an interesting and rather differing point on this ideal at the end of his novel, when Meursault is condemned to being beheaded. Camus offers the reader a powerful image of the ever-existentialist adult who now faces a scheduled death and finds himself unable to ignore it. Camus’ message goes from being extremely existentialist to showing that men will still be men, and that as absurd as existence may be (demonstrated by the implied fact that Meursault still dies), men are naturally incapable of accepting this. What men should do though, is reach a personal point at which they feel satisfied with what they have done in life and open up to the fact that life does have an end. That is what Meursault ends up concluding while holding to a minute hope of being saved; that same hope we all have and which convinces us we are immortal.

And So The Guillotine Was Let Loose

It is overwhelming how sometimes certain things are better understood when left unsaid. That is, how the art of inferring can enlighten us with richer knowledge than that we would have ever attained through careless reading. What are sometimes considered as gaps in the text are rather hidden caves of infinite information that allow the reader to infer. Most of these inferences made throughout the reading of a novel unravel vital truths that would have otherwise not caused such an impact.

            Throughout Albert Camus’ novel, “The Stranger”, the continuous gaps in the text provide fructiferous questioning that not only force but also inspire the reader to infer on what both Camus and Meursault are attempting to deliver. It surprised me how undetailed the novel is; nonetheless, this grants an even deeper meaning to it. The reader can see how Meursault never describes himself, how he never really explains what and when things went wrong with Maman, and why he is the careless man he is.

            Despite Meursault’s lack of emotion and explanation, what distressed me the most was not textually reading whether his beheading occurred or not. It took me a moment to realize just how much richer was Camus’ way of concluding the novel.  The reader can infer upon the novel's end; he/she has the chance to compile 120 pages of textual reference with unlimited prior knowledge in the attempt to formulate an individually convincing verdict.

“As if that blind rage had washed me clean… for the first time… I opened myself to the gentle indifference of the world… I felt that I had been happy and that I was happy again.” (Page 123)

And so the novel ends. But wait, where is the part where Meursault gets his head cut off and crowds cry and cheer and Marie scowls in despair and Maman waits for him beside the God he never believed in?

            I believe Camus did this for a reason; just as Meursault was accused of being intelligent while in trial, I accuse Camus of being clever while in writing. So what if Meursault dies beheaded or of old age? So what if he died now, later, yesterday? Meursault reached the ultimate sentiment of indifference towards the world; that which we all want but feel afraid of. He understood that what mattered was his unique capability of living life without regret and without the childish illusion of hoping it would be another. He was a man; he understood that he was alone and that the only thing that mattered was what he had in the present: dawn, the beating of his heart, and his capability of feeling happy in the face of death. He was strong; he never even considered a hypocrite deathbed conversion. If we were indifferent to the world, just as it is indifferent to us, we would be able to genuinely and gingerly live the condemned life we have. The lack of information provided in the novel only encourages us to daydream of the infinite possibilities Meursault may have faced; however, what really ends up having any relevance and importance is his final inner accomplishment. It is a lesson, to each and every one of us. Anyone can die today or tomorrow, anyone can come along and decide for you, but what should worry us in life is the task of attaining an indifferent position against the possibility of death and rather use our time to focus on doing what we are passionate about, what we can do now, and what we will probably not have the opportunity to even considering doing tomorrow. 

The Stranger; Existentialism Between the Lines

Albert Camus’ novel, “The Stranger”, delivers existentialist ideals through Monsieur Meursault’s actions and lack of emotions. The fact that he is detached from his mother’s death and apparently unaffected by it is the ultimate example of Camus’ personification of existentialism; which, as it is commonly known, deals with the whole purpose of human existence and the philosophy that life has no meaning and therefore nothing in it really matters.

In the first four chapters of the novel the reader can begin to understand Meursault’s attitude towards life; “Then I felt like having a smoke. But I hesitated, because I didn’t know if I could do it with Maman right there. I thought about it; it didn’t matter.” (Page 8). Meursault is using the classic existentialist phrase, “It doesn’t matter.” So what if I have a smoke in front of my mother’s dead body? Camus infers that Meursault’s habit of smoking probably bothered his mother, but at the same time the man has no problem with opposing this even when she lies dead in front of him. As Meursault might have thought so at the time, mankind has free will and nothing that he does has any importance.

Although throughout the novel Meursault seems indifferent towards his mother’s death, the culmination of this hypothesis occurs in page 24 where he states, “It occurred to me that anyway one more Sunday was over, that Maman was buried now… and that, really, nothing had changed.” Nothing had changed? His mother had just died! Anyhow, it is not like Meursault even knows when this occurred, as shown in the first pages of the novel where he questions whether his mother’s death occurred yesterday or the day before that.  One might believe on existentialist philosophies but it is absurd to become indifferent of your mother’s death, especially because that is simply disrespectful. However, Meursault is just like that; objective, euphemistic, detached. Will the sorrow of losing his mother ever come to light?

Another thing that stood out for me was how the first four chapters of the book ended with an interesting contrast between characters. Mr. Salamano, Meursault’s neighbor, approaches Meursault because he is deeply concerned about his dog’s disappearance. Despaired and trembling, Salamano asks Meursault, “They’re not going to take him away from me are they…? Otherwise, what’s going to happen to me?” (Page 39). This stands out to me because it happened just two days after Meursault buried his mother, and while he seems totally untroubled by that, his neighbor is loosing his head over a dog. Regardless of the relationship this man had with his cocker, it is ridiculous that he falls into an anxious breakdown for a dog while Meursault enjoys the day after his mother's death. Nevertheless, Camus once again throws hints of his existentialist ideals through this; Meursault is enjoying the day, isn’t that the only thing that matters?

Although I am liking the novel, I find Meursault’s detachment slightly perturbing and worrying. I respect Camus’ existentialist believes but I think the human being is incapable of hiding these kind of overwhelming emotions forever. Will Meursault ever fall into them?

Dear Mr. Ferrebee

Dear Mr. Ferrebee,

After reading my 45 minute AP Question Response, and before reading the comments you printed on the back, I thought it was, overall, a good essay that met the standards and showed interesting quotes and analysis. However after reading your comments I felt you were right with some but perhaps not so clear with others. For example, a 5 Essay meets the assignment while providing “thin and commonplace information” but my essay included two quotes from the book that I could remember, place, and explain; I do not believe that to be thin information. Even though I agree with most of the characteristics you highlighted on the back, details like this make me disagree a little on the final grade for my essay. I am aware that my essay is not an 8 but I believe the usage of quotes may place mine on a higher grade as compared to others who, though I am not aware of this, might have not used quotes from the text and still gotten the same grade as I did.

Nevertheless, thank-you for including the comments on the back, it is a helpful manner of showing us that our essays are graded based on solid standards.

Sincerely,

Andrea Diaz