Category: McCoy 203 Fall 2019

Both Frenzy and I Am Not Sidney Poitier contain elements of Aristotelian tragedy. However, Percival Everett subverts the fated tragic endings for both Dionysos and Not Sidney, as neither of their destinies are suitable consequences for their actions. While Dionysos, a god, is able to escape his τύχη, or the set course of one’s life that is determined by the gods, he does not fully carry the weight of his actions. Not Sidney, on the other hand, only feigns hubris, yet is punished in a way that is a burden to the audience rather than being a catharsis.

    Elizabeth Roos makes the claim that Dionysos is a tragic hero because “what they had been dreading for the protagonist finally occurred,” making “Frenzy’s conclusion…arguably more satisfying than I Am Not Sidney Poitier’s” (Roos). Roo posits that because the reader understands that Dionysos would, unlike the other gods, die, Dionysos’ death is an example of Chekhov’s Gun, “satisf[ying] an expectation that has been developed, hopefully creating catharsis in the reader” (Roos). 

          The reader is aware that Dionysos, unlike other gods, will die (Everett 9), so his death could be seen as a foreshadowed culmination of the chaos he causes. However, his fate as a god is to suffer with his godly actions, and eventually die before being placed back in his body. Dionysos lives his entire life at once, and it is a life of humans experiencing cruel fates due to their passions and his influence. He understands portions of his life through Vlepo, who functions as not only his eyes, but “his mortal bookmark” (Everett 3). Vlepo is forced to process events such as the death of Dionysos’ mother (Everett 16). Vlepo, rather than Dionysos, experiences the brunt of the pain associated with Dionysos, being subjected to the emotional consequences of the god’s involvement in people’s lives (Everett 17). On the contrary, Dionysos is curious about the impact he has, but throughout the novel, he allows Vlepo to experience the frenzy of humanity for him. He consistently avoids responsibility: even when “the notion of violence seemed new and unexpected to him” (Everett 135) he has already committed murder and claims to have been purified by Mother Rhea (Everett 134).

Dionysos sleeps so that he may be closer to his Bacchae, and he temporarily achieves this goal (Everett 83). As he learns how to sleep as a human would, he begins to understand the passions that he has created in humans. This shift from curiosity to a human degree of caring culminates in Dionysos when he rescues his mother from the underworld, a journey paralleling that of Orpheus and Eurydice. He decides that “after [he]…achieve[s] sleep, real sleep, [he wants Vlepo] to cut out [his] heart…and leave it unceremoniously on the ground” (Everett 154). His death is not tragic, but is instead a reprieve from his life. In doing so, Vlepo causes his life to end in a human way, but it ends instead of being placed into a new body.

Dionysos differentiates between letting someone die and killing them (Everett 130), which absolves him of responsibility and indicates that while he allowed himself to die, Vlepo was the one who killed him. Dionysos’ death ends the traumatizing experience of being human, which he now accepts as a human experience.  Although this decision ends the chaos, Dionysos does not kill himself. Instead, he lets Vlepo kill him, giving Vlepo the agency and responsibility to end the chaos. Vlepo takes responsibility for Dionysos’ actions, sparing Dionysos both from experiencing emotional pain and from experiencing the struggle of an endless, recursive life where he must play the same roles despite having changed. The reader therefore does not experience the catharsis associated with Aristotelian tragedy.

    The audience does not experience catharsis from I Am Not Sidney Poitier because they, rather than Not Sidney, create his fate. Not Sidney does not have hamartia (Murfin, Ray 186), or errors in judgement. He makes decisions based on how he is “[his] own person, so I…believed” (Everett 45), which prompts him to leave the school where his resemblance to Sidney Poitier was used by Miss Hancock as a justification for raping him (Everett 30). Instead, completely nonsensical events shape him into Sidney Poitier, making him the object, not the subject, of his life. He sees a body which he identifies as himself, which makes him Sidney Poitier through double negation (Everett 212). He is Sidney Poitier through structural and cosmic irony (Murfin, Ray 219). The audience knows that he will become Sidney Poitier because he is associated with this non-fictional public figure. Because Sidney Poitier is non-fictional, and is the “generic reference point for all black actors,”, a character named “Not Sidney Poitier” would automatically be associated with Sidney Poitier the actor before he could even demonstrate his personality to the society that forced him to take on the role of Sidney Poitier. The audience and its preconceptions therefore create the tragic structure of the novel: it is built between the non-fictional world of distant celebrity and the personal realm of the individual. The fictionalized versions of real people are echoes of the real world, and are caricatured as a response to how the world views them. Ted Turner speaking in non-sequiturs is an allusion to his influence outside the novel: he is perceived as being the thing which he is associated with, television and the white noise it produces. Jane Fonda is little more than a sex symbol in I Am Not Sidney Poitier, as society has conflated the entirety of her “self” with that aspect of herself. In a similar vein, Not Sidney is conflated with Sidney Poitier by the audience that sees them as similar in physique and race, which causes Not Sidney, who initially did not fit into his role, to be used by the arbitrary plot points to the end of becoming Sidney Poitier. The audience does not receive catharsis from I Am Not Sidney Poitier because they are among the forces that caused Not Sidney’s life to end by being absorbed into Sidney Poitier’s existence.

    Dionysos and Not Sidney Poitier are not tragic heroes for opposing reasons. Dionysos is not a tragic hero because he shirks his responsibilities, choosing to be killed as a human instead of suffering with his godly destiny. In contrast Not Sidney takes on the burdens from our society, and loses his humanity despite his choice to be an individual.

“Adorned with beautyes and vertues store,

Her goodly eyes lyke Saphyres shining bright,

Her forehead yvory white,

Her cheeks lyke apples which the Sun hath rudded…”

(original spelling from Poetry Foundation)

Above is an excerpt from the poem “Epithalamion” by Edmund Spenser. I’ve included this poem at the start of this post to give an example of the poetic mode, blazon. According to the Poetry Foundation, blazon uses literary devices such as metaphor, simile, and other forms of figurative language to describe the physical attributes of a subject. The subject is often female but not exclusively. The physical attributes of the subject are compared to beautiful, mystical, or rare objects. This is certainly evident in the excerpt from “Epithalamion”. Spenser uses simile to compare his subject’s eyes to shiny jewels, metaphor to describe her pristine-looking forehead, and simile again for her cheeks, which are as red as a ruddy apple. As stated in the Poetry Foundation’s description of blazon, this technique was made famous by Francesco Petrarca, Italian scholar and poet. Petrarca depicts his female beloved by describing her in parts, similar to Spencer’s poem above. Blazon also thrived amongst poets during the Elizabethan literary period when “Epithalamion” was written. Blazon still occurs in contemporary literature.

One possible example of blazon in modern literature is in Percival Everett’s re: f (gesture). This collection of poems includes a section labeled “Body” where each poem is entitled with the medical term for a body part, followed by a description of that body part. In my previous post, I deliberated this use of scientific language in poetry. I came to the conclusion that Everett’s reason for doing this was to give the reader a realistic depiction of the human body. Of course, I don’t know Everett’s intentions, but I believe that he wrote the poems in admiration of the body to celebrate its natural features. This choice of language also helps determine whether or not the poems are classified as blazon or not.

For example, if I examine the poem titled, “Labia Majora”, I see anatomical terminology that describes a women’s vulva, “Posteriorly lost in the neighboring integument, between areolar tissue, sweet fat, vessels, nerves.” Because the description is of female genitalia, the criteria that the blazon often centers around a female subject is full-filled. However, the scientific language used does not compare the body part to a rare gem or a blissful sunrise, like a typical blazon might. Instead, it chronicles the aspects of the labia major with literal, scientific terms. Even though I decided in my previous post that Everett does this as a celebration of the human body, is not done in the traditional way that the blazon celebrates its subject. So, can Everett’s poems in “Body” be considered a blazon?

To better comprehend this question, I want to look at what contreblazon is. The Poetry Foundation defines contreblazon as the invert of blazon. Poems that are contreblazon compare the subject’s attributes to something wonderful but then negate it, changing the meaning. William Shakespeare’s famous Sonnet number 130 is an example of this, “My mistress’ eyes are nothing like the Sun, Coral is far more red than her lips red…”. I would not say that the poems in “Body” represent a contreblazon. This is because I believe that Everett wrote the poems to celebrate and recognize the human body. So, the contreblazon, which is a device used to insult the subject’s physical appearance, isn’t fitting.

I am convinced that the poems in “Body” would be an example of blazon despite their lack of some of the traditional elements normally in a blazon. Sure, the body parts are not compared to stunningly beautiful natural phenomena or objects, but the way each poem is written makes it clear to the reader that Everett admires the subject’s beauty. This is evident by Everett’s inclusion of every small detail of each body part and his crafting of each word or phrase.

In my opinion, Everett’s choice to use literal language instead of figurative, is more alluring than the more traditional blazon, “Epithalamion” referenced above. I feel this way because the way conventional blazons are written, the woman is never revered as she is, but instead is compared to another object. Of course, this objectifies the woman and causes women readers (like me) to assume that I cannot be beautiful the way I am unless I look like a gemstone! Also, in the poems in “Body”, Everett discusses some unusual parts of his subject’s body that would normally not be considered beautiful. An example being the previously referenced poem, “Labia Majora”. Not only is this body part often not discussed at all in literature, it is almost never looked at through poetry as a beautiful thing. While this honest viewpoint in “Body” may make some readers uncomfortable, it allows me to realize that every part of our human bodies is naturally beautiful as is.

Percival Everett’s “Body” represents a non-traditional and contemporary blazon that calls attention to the human body differently than most blazon poetry. This divergent interpretation can cause readers to look at societal standards of beauty and assess what really is beautiful.

In Percival Everett’s collection of poems, re: (f) gesture, there is a section that focuses on body parts. It is appropriately called “Body”. Each poem is entitled with the biological term for the body part being described. This scientific language seen in each title is also present throughout the poems as they describe that body part’s features and functions. The dialect Everett choses to use in his descriptions is a helpful tool in understanding the meaning of the poems. 

The language in Everett’s “Body” alternates between the colloquial language that I am more familiar with, and terminology that almost mimics a medical diagnosis. An example of this medical language can be seen with the poem entitled “Nasal Fosse”. This title refers to what is more commonly referred to as a nose. Everett continues this poem by describing the various parts of the nose and its canals, “…the posterior nares in the naso pharynx”. This language is not commonly used in poetry or in literature in general. So, the fact that Everett has chosen to use such scientific language in a poem piques my interest. I want to examine poetry as a literary form and explore Everett’s decision to include scientific vocabulary in his poems.

Poetry is defined in the Bedford Glossary of Critical and Literary Terms as “literary expression characterized with particular attention to rhythm, sound, and the concentrated, concrete use of language.” The Bedford continues by characterizing poetry as a literary genre and comparing it to other artistic forms of expression such as dance. With these attributes in mind, one can assume that poetry falls under the realm of the humanities. Speaking on behalf of the many stereotypes I have personally witnessed, the humanities are often thought of as a creative, philosophical, and abstruse discipline. Because of its non-concrete nature, the humanities are often seen as lesser than other areas of concentration of study.  I have often heard the joke towards a humanities major about what he or she could “realistically” do with his/her degree once out of college.

Science, on the other hand, is a more valued and respected area of study in our society. It revolves around tested theories and mathematical equations, ensuring to others that it is based on the facts of our world. People who study science are supposedly unopinionated and detached from their work, contrasting with the creative humanities that generally place emphasis on the person’s emotions. The differences between these two practices are great, and yet both disciplines are intertwined in many ways. The long-standing partition of paradigm between these two concentrations prevents humans from realizing the capabilities that both practices can offer us together.

Joe Moran explores this issue in Science, Space, and Nature. Moran explains where the divergence between the humanities and the sciences potentially began with Francis Bacon’s formulation of scientific discovery. Bacon argues against believing in the arbitrary and that “human beings… should be studied without fixed preconceptions” that the humanities are apparently full of. These ideals enhanced the credibility of the sciences while making the humanities seem less plausible. Thus, the sciences and humanities were innately separated ever since. Or were they? Moran continues by showing various times when scientific endeavors have used literary techniques from the humanities and vice versa. One example is through map-making. One would probably consider maps to fall under scientific boundaries. However, there is evidence of the literary use of metaphor within maps. This is because maps are not the actual territory, they present but a mere representation of that territory, just like how a metaphor in language represents a situation without actually embodying it. Moran also includes data describing how maps were often works of fiction in earlier times, where the inspiration did not come from the topographical features of the territory, but instead from speculation of the territory’s inhabitants. Moran’s argument that maps are interdisciplinary is significant because it proves that the humanities and the sciences are interlocking despite what people’s original beliefs are.

Percival Everett does his own version of interlocking of these two disciplines through his poems in “Body”. While I can never truly know the author’s intentions, analyzing Everett’s choice of language allows me to consider different ideas that he possibly wants to come across in his writing. Perhaps he wants the reader to see the beauty of the human body in its natural form. The jargon that Everett uses is medical, but the poems aren’t written as a medical description of the body. Instead, they are written as beautiful depictions admiring the human body. This is evident in the poem, “The Sternum”, “Oblique in inclination from above and downward, it is my shield.” Here, Everett describes the shape of the sternum literally, yet compares it to protective armor figuratively. By using both literary and scientific terms, Everett is able to convey a unique meaning with this poem. Everett also doesn’t shy away from arresting details of the human body with this language, “…they press gently past vulval orifice, toward her anus” (Labia Majora). I believe that this is a very powerful way to write. He does not sugar-coat any graphic descriptions of body parts and by doing so, allows the reader to truly marvel at how the human body works. In my opinion, the scientific language allows for a more realistic interpretation of the beauty of the body. It also connects the more credible discipline of the sciences with poetry of the humanities making the poems themselves more conceivable.

Percival Everett’s “Body” is a celebration of the human body in its realest form. Through his use of biological and literary words, Everett’s “Body” is a perfect example of interdisciplinary writing. This choice of language affects the overall meaning of the poems and influences the reader’s interpretation.