Although Catch-22 is written mostly from the perspective of a third-person narrator who describes what each of the characters is thinking, we hear mostly what is happening in Yossarian’s mind, and many of the observations about the absurdity of the war seem to be his own. So, despite the fact that each chapter of Catch-22 bears the name of a character described in that chapter, the narrative generally returns to Yossarian. A significant departure from this organizational method occurs in the chapter entitled “Bologna,” however: instead of operating as a largely humorous description of the nature and history of one of the novel’s characters, this chapter remains almost entirely in the present of the story, and Yossarian is forced to confront his desire to live at the expense of everything else. The chapter title itself—a place name rather than a person’s name—marks a shift from a satirical and humorous focus on the unwitting characters engaged in the war to a serious focus on the present reali-ties of the war.
The fragmented chronology functions as an instrument for building suspense. The lengthy digression about the Great Loyalty Oath Crusade interrupts the tense build-up to the Bologna mission, which occurs shortly before the scene at the beginning of the novel, when the number of required missions is still thirty-five. The Great Loyalty Oath Crusade story is ironic and funny; the Bologna mission is a dismal story told in terms of endless rain and growing worry. By breaking off the Bologna story in the middle to tell the exaggerated parable of the Loyalty Oath Crusade, Heller heightens the sense of uncertainty and anticipation surrounding the outcome of the Bologna mission. During the description of the actual bombing run to Bologna, however, Heller devotes a chapter almost entirely to a single event, without his usual digressions. This very detailed, vivid account of the attack makes time appear to move more slowly, trapping the reader in the same drawn-out terror as the characters. The earnest, straightforward manner in which the Bologna story is told is a signal that we are meant to take this episode seriously—that there is nothing funny about this aspect of war.
This chapter is also different from the rest of the story because it is the first time that the ethics of Yossarian's philosophy comes into questioning. He feels guilty about abandoning his friends, whom he actually cares for. He has no qualms about abandoning the mission in pursuit of self preservation, but he worries while waiting for their return from said mission. His entire goal in life has been to live, and caring for others seems about to destroy his life, because not abandoning them means flying missions. For Yossarian, flying missions = one more chance for everyone to kill him. (553)
http://www.jstor.org/stable/view/1345211?seq=1
http://www.jstor.org/action/showArticle?doi=10.2307/440667&Search=yes&term=
joseph&term=heller&term=catch-&item=3&returnArticleService=showArticle&ttl=
74&searchUri=%2Faction%2FdoAdvancedSearch%3Fq0%3DCatch-22%26f0%3Dall%26c0%3
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DAND%26q3%3D%26f3%3Dall%26Search%3DSearch%26ar%3Don%26sd%3D1961%26ed%3D2008%
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26dc.PublicPolicy%2526amp%253BAdministration%3DPublic%2BPolicy%2B%2526amp%253B
%2BAdministration
http://www.jstor.org/action/showArticle?doi=10.2307/1769440&Search=yes&term=
joseph&term=heller&term=catch-&item=10&returnArticleService=showArticle&ttl=
74&searchUri=%2Faction%2FdoAdvancedSearch%3Fq0%3DCatch-22%26f0%3Dall%26c0%3
DAND%26q1%3DJoseph%2BHeller%26f1%3Dall%26c1%3DAND%26q2%3D%26f2%3Dall%26c2%3
DAND%26q3%3D%26f3%3Dall%26Search%3DSearch%26ar%3Don%26sd%3D1961%26ed%3D2008%
26la%3Deng%26jo%3D%26dc.Language%2526amp%253BLiterature%3DLanguage%2B%2526amp
%253B%2BLiterature%26dc.Philosophy%3DPhilosophy%26dc.Psychology%3DPsychology%
26dc.PublicPolicy%2526amp%253BAdministration%3DPublic%2BPolicy%2B%2526amp%253B
%2BAdministration
http://www.jstor.org/action/showArticle?doi=10.2307/440542&Search=yes&term=
joseph&term=heller&term=catch-&item=9&returnArticleService=showArticle&ttl=
74&searchUri=%2Faction%2FdoAdvancedSearch%3Fq0%3DCatch-22%26f0%3Dall%26c0%3
DAND%26q1%3DJoseph%2BHeller%26f1%3Dall%26c1%3DAND%26q2%3D%26f2%3Dall%26c2%3
DAND%26q3%3D%26f3%3Dall%26Search%3DSearch%26ar%3Don%26sd%3D1961%26ed%3D2008%
26la%3Deng%26jo%3D%26dc.Language%2526amp%253BLiterature%3DLanguage%2B%2526amp%
253B%2BLiterature%26dc.Philosophy%3DPhilosophy%26dc.Psychology%3DPsychology%26dc.
PublicPolicy%2526amp%253BAdministration%3DPublic%2BPolicy%2B%2526amp%253B%2B
Administration
These are my sources, I think.
Monday, April 28, 2008
Monday, April 21, 2008
Catch-22 Part 1
After reading the first few chapters of Joseph Heller's Catch-22, I find myself eagerly awaiting the finish of this blog so I can continue reading the novel. Really, I didn't know what to expect when I chose the novel, but I certainly didn't expect a story that would actually entertain me.
It is a war novel, so to speak, but it deviates from the normal standards set forth by other great war stories, popular conceptions, and by association Hollywood. There is no great honor here. There are no heroes. And there is nothing worth fighting this war for. This lattermost fact is perhaps one of if not the central facet of the novel at this stage. All that matters to the generals controlling the troops is getting a promotion; all that matters to the troops is staying alive long enough to go home. Nobody is worried about the larger political or noble goals of the war. This grand irony is shown in a number of small ways, namely through Yossarian's self-defeating, paradoxical actions, which in the big picture have little or no meaning whatsoever. In the hospital, for example, Yossarian and his companions hate the Texan because he is so likable, and Yossarian makes a fool of the chaplain even though he senselessly loves him. Furthermore, wielded with wickedly satirical intent, the banter between characters is full of paradoxes as impossible as Catch-22 itself.
The characters all seem to realize this point about themselves, and also realize the complete lack of control that they have over their own fates. Their futures lie in the hands of bureaucrats who's agendas do not include the well-being of common soldiers. Yossarian and the others strike out against this by embracing the paradoxes of their situation, pursuing irrelevancy, meaninglessness, and nonsense as though they are real values in a world where relevancy, meaning, and sense are impossible. This is further emphasizes by the impersonal increase in mission number requirements by Colonel Cathcart.
In the face of these paradoxes, I find myself sympathizing with Yossarian. He's a man who does not necessarily hate or love the war, but just wants out of it. The only real reason he argues against the way the war is being prosecuted is because he doesn't want the dumb-donkey bureaucrats who have their heads up their butts and are more used to checkers than running an army to get him killed. Frankly, this seems fairly reasonable to me. (478)
It is a war novel, so to speak, but it deviates from the normal standards set forth by other great war stories, popular conceptions, and by association Hollywood. There is no great honor here. There are no heroes. And there is nothing worth fighting this war for. This lattermost fact is perhaps one of if not the central facet of the novel at this stage. All that matters to the generals controlling the troops is getting a promotion; all that matters to the troops is staying alive long enough to go home. Nobody is worried about the larger political or noble goals of the war. This grand irony is shown in a number of small ways, namely through Yossarian's self-defeating, paradoxical actions, which in the big picture have little or no meaning whatsoever. In the hospital, for example, Yossarian and his companions hate the Texan because he is so likable, and Yossarian makes a fool of the chaplain even though he senselessly loves him. Furthermore, wielded with wickedly satirical intent, the banter between characters is full of paradoxes as impossible as Catch-22 itself.
The characters all seem to realize this point about themselves, and also realize the complete lack of control that they have over their own fates. Their futures lie in the hands of bureaucrats who's agendas do not include the well-being of common soldiers. Yossarian and the others strike out against this by embracing the paradoxes of their situation, pursuing irrelevancy, meaninglessness, and nonsense as though they are real values in a world where relevancy, meaning, and sense are impossible. This is further emphasizes by the impersonal increase in mission number requirements by Colonel Cathcart.
In the face of these paradoxes, I find myself sympathizing with Yossarian. He's a man who does not necessarily hate or love the war, but just wants out of it. The only real reason he argues against the way the war is being prosecuted is because he doesn't want the dumb-donkey bureaucrats who have their heads up their butts and are more used to checkers than running an army to get him killed. Frankly, this seems fairly reasonable to me. (478)
Chaos in Form
"One Art" is the means by which Elizabeth Bishop attempts to cast an illusion of authority over that which is ultimately beyond control: loss. The speaker tries to reassure herself and the reader that loss is something that can be mastered. By embracing loss, by creating a layer of comfort over an underlying self-pity, she hopes to master the inexorable losses which she has suffered.
The poem is written in the form of a villanelle, a very strict form of poetry using both repetition and rhyme to emphasize the chosen topic. In using this rigid form Bishop attempts creates the illusion of mastery, and would succeed but for the deviation from the standard form. The villanelle is so obsessive about form that even the slightest deviation from the predetermined rhyme and repetition calls attention to the idea that disaster cannot be controlled. In this way Bishop demonstrates that no matter the constraints one places on loss, there is always the chance that it will appear in the distance. In addition, the attempt and failure at mastery in the poem shows that mastering ones emotions during a crisis of loss is very difficult.
With regard to the choice of words, the order, and repetition of those words, everything is geared towards comforting and reassuring the speaker. In the first line, "The art of losing isn't hard to master. . . ." the use of the word "art" connotes a skill that has been mastered, as anyone who has developed a special skill refers to that skill as an "art" or "art form." It is a powerful way to begin a poem about loss. The alternation of the words "master" and "disaster" serve as interesting opposites, one connoting order and the other chaos. Yet it seems that disaster dominates control throughout the poem. This is partly because disaster always appears at the end of a stanza, reinforcing the idea that after all is mastered, still only disaster is left. In addition, the words themselves harbor strong meanings and associations. "Master" possesses the ideas of God, religion, government, slavery, control, order, stability, and leaves one feeling both the master and mastered in one fell swoop. Disaster, on the other hand, leaves one only helpless, unable to resist the tides of war, nature, and chance. Against such odds there is no hope for control, and in addition to these semi-tangible concepts, the chaotic realm of the unknown plagues our thoughts, cajoling with our worst fears and reaping the seeds of our terror.
The buildup of losses the reader speaks of, starting from things "filled with the intent to be lost" to things lost every day to things lost in huge natural disasters, serves to demonstrate the slow and painful process by which the speaker experiences these losses. She speaks of losing family things with personal value: her mother's watch, and loved houses, losses that inflict a very personal pain. Then she speaks about the loss of cities and continents and rivers, painful losses whose experience is akin to the losses felt when Katrina ravaged New Orleans or when they dropped the bomb on Hiroshima. To help mask these losses, the speaker recites the mantra denying disaster, showing that the repetition helps to console the reader when her emotions begin to run out of control, falling back on the rigid villanelle for comfort almost as one turns to God in search of sanctuary from the chaos that dominates life.
The phrase "Write it!" shows a brief yet complete loss of control emotions by the speaker, an abrupt interjection demonstrating the chaos behind the screen of composure. This interruption, thus, helps the reader grasp the idea that while repetition may make an impression, the underlying lack of order eventually shows a great deal of repressed emotion. Considering that this most recent loss is a person, not something small, not something natural, but a loved person, it is not unexpected. This last part personalizes the loss, awakening the reader to the harsh reality previously shrouded by a curtain of order.
Bishop uses the villanelle as a means to underscore the undulating chaos of disaster roaring beneath the surface of our lives, and emphasizes the realities and half-truths that we create so that we can cope with unrelenting and intransigent god that is loss. (728)
The poem is written in the form of a villanelle, a very strict form of poetry using both repetition and rhyme to emphasize the chosen topic. In using this rigid form Bishop attempts creates the illusion of mastery, and would succeed but for the deviation from the standard form. The villanelle is so obsessive about form that even the slightest deviation from the predetermined rhyme and repetition calls attention to the idea that disaster cannot be controlled. In this way Bishop demonstrates that no matter the constraints one places on loss, there is always the chance that it will appear in the distance. In addition, the attempt and failure at mastery in the poem shows that mastering ones emotions during a crisis of loss is very difficult.
With regard to the choice of words, the order, and repetition of those words, everything is geared towards comforting and reassuring the speaker. In the first line, "The art of losing isn't hard to master. . . ." the use of the word "art" connotes a skill that has been mastered, as anyone who has developed a special skill refers to that skill as an "art" or "art form." It is a powerful way to begin a poem about loss. The alternation of the words "master" and "disaster" serve as interesting opposites, one connoting order and the other chaos. Yet it seems that disaster dominates control throughout the poem. This is partly because disaster always appears at the end of a stanza, reinforcing the idea that after all is mastered, still only disaster is left. In addition, the words themselves harbor strong meanings and associations. "Master" possesses the ideas of God, religion, government, slavery, control, order, stability, and leaves one feeling both the master and mastered in one fell swoop. Disaster, on the other hand, leaves one only helpless, unable to resist the tides of war, nature, and chance. Against such odds there is no hope for control, and in addition to these semi-tangible concepts, the chaotic realm of the unknown plagues our thoughts, cajoling with our worst fears and reaping the seeds of our terror.
The buildup of losses the reader speaks of, starting from things "filled with the intent to be lost" to things lost every day to things lost in huge natural disasters, serves to demonstrate the slow and painful process by which the speaker experiences these losses. She speaks of losing family things with personal value: her mother's watch, and loved houses, losses that inflict a very personal pain. Then she speaks about the loss of cities and continents and rivers, painful losses whose experience is akin to the losses felt when Katrina ravaged New Orleans or when they dropped the bomb on Hiroshima. To help mask these losses, the speaker recites the mantra denying disaster, showing that the repetition helps to console the reader when her emotions begin to run out of control, falling back on the rigid villanelle for comfort almost as one turns to God in search of sanctuary from the chaos that dominates life.
The phrase "Write it!" shows a brief yet complete loss of control emotions by the speaker, an abrupt interjection demonstrating the chaos behind the screen of composure. This interruption, thus, helps the reader grasp the idea that while repetition may make an impression, the underlying lack of order eventually shows a great deal of repressed emotion. Considering that this most recent loss is a person, not something small, not something natural, but a loved person, it is not unexpected. This last part personalizes the loss, awakening the reader to the harsh reality previously shrouded by a curtain of order.
Bishop uses the villanelle as a means to underscore the undulating chaos of disaster roaring beneath the surface of our lives, and emphasizes the realities and half-truths that we create so that we can cope with unrelenting and intransigent god that is loss. (728)
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