Kate Chopin's "The Awakening," is the Awakening of a Woman's Spirit

If any of you have ever encountered Kate Chopin, it was probably through her most famous short story, The Kiss, which many of us read in middle school. Up until now I was completely unaware that Chopin had written a novel - and what a novel.

Kate Chopin

Perhaps you've never heard of this novel because it is rather boring to most people, some would even say it is god-awful boring. It's not very long; I read the book in two days and it was only 180 iBook pages, which translates to a lot fewer actual pages. I'll admit it was slow sometimes, but the bottom line is, this book is brilliant.

This novel is boring, I suppose, if you aren't one for aesthetic, carefully crafted language. One is reminded of Tinkers somewhat; if you aren't familiar with Tinkers, it was the 2010 Pulitzer Prize winner and assigned reading for many of us. Tinkers is a long, rambly story that often makes no coherent sense, but its beauty lies in the language. It's reminiscent of abstract art in a way; the words are meant to evoke distant, remote emotions that appeal to a person's subconscious fancies rather than to his or her logical side.

Chopin's book isn't that rambly - she stays focused, but the sentences are obviously sculpted with fine precision, no word out of place. She makes a careful point of using just the right adjective to express her point, every time. And her words, like the words in Tinkers, evoke certain feelings, or "fancies," as Poe liked to call them, "that cannot be expressed in words" (See Poe - taken from his only novel, "The Fall of the House of Usher- and coincidentally the exact lyrics to Alan Parson's A Dream Within a Dream). 

But aside from the syntax, what makes this book special?

This book is so brilliant because it captures the heart of feminism without being explicitly feminist whatsoever. In fact, it's not really about feminism, but about breaking free and, to use the title, awakening from a state of mechanical routine, from the state of simply doing what everyone else does because doing so is social convention. You could read this book and not even realize it's feminist - considering Chopin lived during the same time period as her characters, "feminism," hadn't even emerged as a real movement yet. 

The book is not even an outcry for equal rights; it is far from a movement for egalitarianism. It is simply the story of one woman, and how, through not very drastic measures, she found freedom and meaning in a life that was previously set for her, a life that was once destined to be one long bore.

The novel appealed to me directly - at first I had difficulty understanding the setting, because the characters were French, but spoke English (many were Creoles) yet they had African American servants. The time period was also confusing; I thought at first it may have been during the fifties. I eventually discovered that the story takes place in New Orleans, in the very late 1800's, on the dawn of the twentieth century, but this is no matter. What makes the story so powerful is that can appeal to so many women, or even men (in an abstract sense) who have been in the protagonist's position, no matter where they live or what social scene they are a part of.

The book is pretty flat plot-wise, but that's the point. Here's a quick summary; a woman named Edna Pontellier is married to Mr. Pontellier, and has two children. The Pontelliers are on an island for a summer vacation, with more of their friends, including a really annoying woman called Mrs. Ratignolle and her family, and the Lebrun family, which consists of jerk-face Victor, Robert, and their mother. 

Basically very little happens throughout this whole book; Edna married her husband because it seemed to be the right thing at the time, but she doesn't really love him. She falls in love with Robert, who moves to Mexico because he loves her too and knows he can't take her from her husband. She later moves back to her home in the city, and her husband goes away for a few months, while the children go away to their grandmother's. Edna continues to seek freedom from an old woman named Madame Reitz, who is rude, hermit-ish, and plays the piano very well; Edna feels at home with her. Edna decides to abandon household duties, and even moves into another house that she pays for herself. She has an affair with a man named Alcee, but quickly disposes of him, because she doesn't love him. Robert comes back to the city, and they declare their love for each other; but soon, Robert goes away again and the book ends.

That's it plot-wise, folks. Because of the rather slow-moving plot, many denounce this book as horrendously inane and boring, and I'll admit, at times it was slow. But the beauty of this book is, again, within the language and the overall message.

Does anyone remember A Day in the Life of Ivan Denisovich? That was another short, but seemingly god-awful boring book. The reason that book was so amazing was because it was boring. That book captured an actual day of a Russian convict's life and how strenuously tedious his life was. That book perfectly conveyed how harsh and meaningless life seemed in the Gulag because it described Ivan's boring life down to every single boring detail.

This book is similar in a way - except, the prisoner is a housewife, Edna Pontellier. She's not a prisoner in a conventional sense; she doesn't even suffer abuse from her husband, in fact, her husband loves her and treats her rather well, although he has sexist attitudes which were completely normal for the time period and are still prevalent today. He doesn't beat her, he doesn't force her to do anything, though he disapproves of her actions, but she is still imprisoned, not just by him, but by all of the society around her.

Everything in her life seems very preset, and her life is full of meaningless routine. She is expected to call on visitors, and receive visitors, so as to keep her husband and family in good reputation; she is expected to raise her children and oversee the household and keep it nice and neat. She endures the most stupid and inane comments from her friends/company, every day, all the time, and I'm reminded of many conversations I've overheard when people come to visit my own house. The book embodies the seemingly meaningless life of a housewife who was not suited to be a housewife. 

It's reminiscent of Kimbra's "Settle Down." You may recognize Kimbra from Gotye's hit single, "Somebody I Used to Know." (She is the featured female artist). But her most famous song in native New Zealand, and in Australia, where she is most widely known, was "Settle Down." The video and lyrics to this song demonstrate how the average woman's dream in life is to find a husband, marry him, hold him down, and look perfect to all the neighbors. How the women were trained to be mindless machines who cooked, cleaned, could play the piano and recite the same rhetoric to every caller.

This is why I thought The Awakening was set in the fifties, at first - because the American middle class grew substantially in the fifties, and the time period was peaceful and primarily uneventful. Thus, we often associate the restless housewife with the fifties, and Kimbra's video is definitely fifties.

http://m.youtube.com/watch?v=rz4qzeZZfRc&desktop_uri=%2Fwatch%3Fv%3Drz4qzeZZfRc  

This book is about a woman who realizes she is more than a housewife. Not that there is anything wrong with being a housewife - being a mother is a noble calling which requires patience, and it's one of the more respectable occupations on earth, so long as you really devote yourself to it. It's the politics that often go with being a housewife - aka, living vicariously through your children and keeping up appearances so that your reputation is clean (making your reputation your #1 goal rather than your family) that annoys me. Unfortunately, the pretentious housewife is a position women have found themselves in for many years. 

Chopin's Edna doesn't one day make a feminist revolution and realize she needs to break the evil shackles of men, like you'd expect the protagonist of a feminist author to do. She slowly realizes, slowly awakens, from the state of "going with the flow-" of marrying because she should, having children because she should, entertaining company because she should- and starting to do what she wanted, what made her free, which means painting, making her own living, listening to piano, speaking honestly, and being with a man she really loves. 

So kudos to Kate Chopin. 

Death Note and Dostoevsky

This summer I have been reading Crime and Punishment by Fyodor Dostoyevsky.

So far, (I have reached Part III of the book; the novel is divided into six parts) I have noticed many similarities between Crime and Punishment and a rather unexpected story; the wildly popular Japanese television show, Death Note. The stories bear such striking similarity that I cannot help but wonder if the mangaka (an author of Japanese "comic book" art, known as manga, which is often adapted for television) of Death Note, Tsugumi Ohba, read Dostoevsky's novel and was inspired by it.

I understand that Death Note is not a novel, in fact, one could label the series pop art; it was one of the best selling mangas in Japan, one of the most popular animes/television series there, and was also made into a two-part live-action movie blockbuster. However, these facts do not stop the story from being profoundly intellectual material, and I think it is worthy of analyzation as well as respect.


For those that aren't wild otakus (anime nerds) or simply haven't heard of the series, here's a very basic summary:

Light Yagami is an incredibly brilliant Japanese student who ranks at the top of his class (and racial stereotypes aside, ranking at the top of a class in Japan is no joke). He happens to encounter a Death Note one day on his way home from school, a supernatural notebook that allows the user to kill any person by writing down their name and envisioning their face.

Light, whose father is a police chief, has a strong concept of justice and decides to become the grand juror of the world, executing dangerous criminals and anyone whom he deems unworthy to live in "this rotten world." He aspires to create a new world in which only good and honest people are allowed to survive. However, he is quickly caught in a game of cat-and-mouse with the world famous detective, L, in a battle of wits and moral philosophy. L believes that what Light is doing is inherently evil, and vows to hunt him down.

And now, for those of you who have not read Crime and Punishment: 

The protagonist (or perhaps, antagonist) of Dostoevsky's novel is a Russian student, Raskolnikov, who is very bright but also very impoverished. In Russia at the time, the social hierarchy was structured in a such a way that the most respectable people/nobles could often be poor, and the rich were not always the most highly regarded. Raskolnikov thinks very highly of himself, and has a tendency to believe that he is smarter than everyone else around him.

Completely poor and in debt to his landlady, Raskolnikov finally executes an idea he has been toying with for several months; murder. An old pawnbroker woman who lives down the street is notoriously hated; she is "as rich as a Jew" (antisemetic, much?) but very stingy, and beats her kind, but simple sister, Lizaveta. Raskolnikov deems that she is of no use to the world, and her money would be better put to use if spent to 'help the poor' (aka, himself -_-). One day, he overhears a merchant say that Lizaveta will not be home the following day, and carries out the murder, stealing the pawnbroker's money. Lizaveta comes home unexpectedly, however, forcing him to kill her as well.

The "crime" is part I of the novel; the rest of the novel focuses on the "punishment." Raskolnikov seems to have endured two punishments so far; guilt, and paranoia. I expect more punishment to ensue.

So what does a seemingly obscure television show (to Americans, anyway) have in common with Crime and Punishment?

Let's begin with the protagonists.

1. First of all, Light Yagami and Rodion Raskolnikov are both very intelligent, but very prideful and arrogant people. This ultimately leads Light to his downfall, and I believe it will do so for Raskolnikov eventually. They believe that they can do no wrong, believe they were supernaturally willed to action, and as a result, they constantly justify their actions as morally upright even if they are clearly not.


Light deems himself worthy of passing ultimate judgement, stating “I’m going to make the world know I’m here… that somebody is passing righteous judgement on them.” He is very Machiavellian (Machiavelli = Italian dude who write The Prince, the notorious real-world guide on how to rule a state with an iron fist through whatever means necessary) in thought, meaning that he believes the ends justify the means, no matter what. So he justifies murder, an inherently immoral action, by stating that murder will make the world a better place for "good" people.








Light also has a tendency to believe that he has been chosen, perhaps by some divine power, to be the "god of the new world."

He expresses this belief by asking Ryuk, the god of death who dropped the notebook in front of him (Ryuk was verrrry bored) why he was chosen. However, Ryuk laughs at this question and makes Light out to be arrogant, asking, "I didn't choose you. Don't you see this is all just an accident? You actually thought you were chosen because you're so smart or something? Don't be so vain. It just happened to fall around here and you just happen to pick it up, and that's all there is to it. " 

Bored Ryuk

But Light continues to believe he was chosen to be a god, until his unfortunate end (where he goes certifiably insane) Minutes before his death, he cries in an angry rage, 'From the time I obtained the notebook, I realized I had to do it. Only I could do it! I knew that killing people was a crime, but there was no other way to correct things! That was the purpose given to me! Only I can do it...who else could have done it?!" This endless cycle of justification pushes Light to the ultimate limits of morality; he is even put in a position where he may have to kill his father, the police chief, and his sister, Sayu, to keep himself hidden. A situation arises so that their murder is no longer necessary, but all the same, the viewer is left wondering if Light would have gone so far.

Raskolnikov similarly justifies his actions, believing that the old woman's death will be good riddance and her money can do a lot of good. If her will is followed, her money will be sent to a monastery when she dies, so that the priests will pray for her in perpetuity, while her sister Lizaveta, who is beyond poor, will get none of it. Therefore, he justifies the very wrong action of murdering her by stating that she is selfish and unworthy, while he is respectable.


He also believes that he has been supernaturally fated to kill the old woman. Dostoevsky states, "Raskolnikov had become superstitious of late...he was always afterwards disposed to see something strange and mysterious, as it were the presence of some peculiar influences and coincidences" (Dostoevsky 56). Raskolnikov views a series of coincidences as proof that he has been somehow destined to kill the old woman. The first coincidence happens in a tavern; Raskolnikov has just come back from the old woman's place, lost in thought.

He concludes that the world would be better without her, and that her money would be better put to use elsewhere, when he overhears a conversation. He hears two men discussing...the old pawnbroker, and how the world would be better without her, and that her money would be better put to use elsewhere.

This strikes him as a strange coincidence. He later takes a random route to a frequent destination of his; he had no reason to take that route, as it is longer and less convenient, but he was not thinking and finds himself there all of a sudden. Then he overhears a merchant telling Lizaveta, the pawnbroker's sister, to come visit him at 7:00 the following day; meaning she won't be home, and the time will be ideal for Raskolnikov to murder the pawnbroker. He would never have known this if he hadn't happened to go that way, which he views as another sign. Later, right before the murder, he realizes he forgot to find an axe to kill the woman with, and panics, but then finds one conveniently lying around, unattended, furthering his belief that the coincidences point to a divine plan.

2. There are more similarities between the two protagonists, the main one being the destruction of their justifications. Even if both of their actions (murder, namely) had been truly justified and their cause 100% worthy, such causes quickly unravel. The road to hell is indeed paved with good intentions.

Light begins to panic when the Japanese Police and L hire the American FBI to come to Japan and investigate the Kira (a butchering of the english world, 'killer' - no one can find the murderer as of yet, so they refer to him as "Kira") case. He especially panics when one of the agents begins to follow him, as the detective L suspects him. He sets up an elaborate plot to kill the agent, Raye Penber, and his fellow FBI agents. Penber is humanized by mangaka Ohba, who shows the agent with his wife, former FBI agent Naomi Misora, a Japanese immigrant. They plan to be married and have children, and Raye has done no crime; he is even in a law-enforcement situation, carrying out justice in his own way. But Light, paranoid, kills Penber on the subway after tricking Penber into killing all the FBI agents, therefore unraveling his justification of murder. He goes on to kill Penber's shrewd wife, Naomi Misora, when she nearly finds him out. Despite all of this, Light refuses to admit guilt, now expanding his justification into "all who stand in Kira's way must be destroyed, because they obstruct justice."

Raskolnikov, on the other hand, runs into some problems during his murder. Lizaveta, the harmless, kind sister of the pawnbroker, walks in during the murder and sees him. Knowing the price if caught, he also hacks into her with an axe. Suddenly all his justifications for killing the pawnbroker dissipate into thin air; he has now killed an innocent woman to cover his own hide, not to enforce "justice."

Similarly to Light, he does not feel repentant for his actions (at first). In fact, he further believes that another coincidence proves he was ordained to commit this murder and get away with it. He almost is caught when two men knock on the door; but he bolts it, and they leave to get the porter. He runs out and there happens to be an empty room, abandoned by the painters, and he hides in there until everyone has passed. The fact that he got away by such a narrow margin confirms his belief that he is justified in committing murder.

3. Another similarity is the apparent paranoia that grows and grows and grows in these characters as they fear the consequences of their actions. With Raskolnikov, it is blatantly obvious; the language the narrator uses has made me frequently question whether he is sane. Raskolnikov worries himself into fits, and almost turns himself in several times to end the paranoia and the fear he will be caught. He even tries to throw the goods he stole into the river to escape this fear; however, he realizes the goods might surface and his crime be exposed. This is a metaphor for his own punishment; he tries to hide the crime but is paranoid that it might surface any minute.

Light, meanwhile, begins as cheerful and even likable to the audience, whether they believe in his cause or not, but by the end, paranoia causes Light to degrade into a complete maniac. He launches into his monologue about he was the only person on earth who could do something so awful as endless murder in order to create a new world of order; shortly after, he is murdered by a Death Note himself.

(See link: he's lost his mind. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DttHTlNaV0s)

Interestingly, Death Note has a fairly normal Japanese opening theme song to start the show every episode, but the last episode, and only the last episode, has a Death Metal song as the opening with images of Light's crazed face, demonstrating that he has gone from a charming, attractive, bright young man with a strong concept of justice to a crazed lunatic who has lost his mind, cursed by his terrible killing power and the fear of being found out.




4. Another similarity is the questionability of their statuses; are they protagonists or antagonists? Or does their position change over time? You find yourself rooting for both Light and Raskolnikov, even though they are both murderers, but parts of both their stories make viewers headdesk - or headwall - with frustration, and perhaps change their opinions of these characters mid-story.

5. A final similarity between the two characters is their strange need to confront their hunters, as if to taunt them.

Light's pride is most definitely his undoing. L taunts Kira on "National TV," and dares Kira to kill him.
Light does so, but the "L" on TV is actually a criminal sentenced to death row that very day, pretending to be L, and therefore Light hasn't killed the real L. L reveals that the broadcast was not international, but in fact only broadcast in Tokyo, Japan. By noting the times of the killings and Light's own interaction with him, L is able to deduce that Kira is a student in Tokyo, narrowing down the pool from the whole world to one city, and eventually down to Light himself. Light insists on working with L and even gets to know him; if Light didn't have a prideful need to play god, to kill those who opposed him, and to confront his opposition, he would never have been found. If he had stuck to his "kill only evil people,"motto - and never added the "all who oppose me are evil!" clause - therefore never bothering to even answer L or try to kill him - he would never have been caught. Supernatural notebooks leave no traces. Hubris is his weakness.

Raskolnikov is similar. He confronts the detective, Zametov, in a bar and tells him how he would have committed the crime if he was the murderer, which is so, so unbelievably stupid. This heightens the police's suspicion about him, in a time and place (19th century St. Petersburg) where he could have simply disappeared and never have been found. Such slip ups, I believe, are going to swiftly land his sorry person in the Gulag out in Siberia.





One key difference between these two, however, is the guilt factor. Light feels no shame or guilt (and almost doesn't seem human at times) whereas Raskolnikov, though he will not admit it, seeks atonement for what he has done and feels terrible about the crime.

So ultimately, Crime and Punishment and Death Note bear some striking similarities, and I'll update in future posts if these similarities continue further. I'm definitely liking summer reading so far, Crime and Punishment is anything but boring, and more importantly, it focuses on the concept of subjective morality as well as the idea of true justice, both of which are among my favorite topics.