Tag: percival everett

Posted on by Kevin Reed - No Comments on Peace, Love, and Understanding

Peace, Love, and Understanding

Percival Everett’s “Body” intervenes in the kind of disciplinary tensions that Joe Moran outlines in “Science, Space, and Nature.” More specifically, the poems may be understood as shedding light on the ridiculousness of isolation between disciplines. Through the poems themselves, “Body” illuminates the fact that science can be taught through a humanities lens, and humanities can be shown through a science lens. This idea of lenses is something I have discussed before in a blog post. My blog post titled “Passion For Perception” (linked below) from September discusses the idea of how lenses are the significant aspect of what makes things unique. However, Everett’s “Body” is not discussing the significance of lenses rather, it is discussing that there is too much significance put on the separation of these lenses. “Body” is an academic paper written as a humanities project. It is a jab at those who perpetuate the significance of categorization. The idea that “Body” presents stems from Everett’s own personal thoughts on the ideas of genre, and other forms of segregation. 

Everett was quoted in a 2012 interview stating “ I don’t believe in genres. There are some things that are formulaic and then there’s things like detective fiction, science fiction and they are not totally interesting… But stories of stories and literary art transcend any notion of genre.”. Everett expresses his distaste for genre and categorization directly in this interview, but it also bleeds into his work. By now I assume most of my readers have seen the terms “New Criticism” and “Intertextuality”, but for those who haven’t  I will give a brief definition of the two terms. According to the Bedford, New Criticism treats texts as “self-contained and self-referential and thus based interpretations on elements within the text rather than on external factors”. According to the Bedford, Intertextuality is “the condition of interconnectedness among texts”. “Body” is a poem that, if looked at with a New Critical lens, is breaking down and analyzing different parts of the human anatomy. However, with a more open minded, intertextual analysis one can see Everett’s message of anti-structure and literary freedom.

 As a writer myself, I can understand the message “body” is alluding to. This poem is challenging the standards of genres and the divide between disciplines. One of the beauties I see in writing is the freedom, or at least the illusion of freedom. When writing it is liberating to create a world all to yourself and do whatever you can imagine, but when you want an audience you have to bend to the will of genre standards. The freedom of individualistic writing is squashed once someone attempts to gain a larger audience, because it must be more easily marketed when it is a one genre story. This however is more of Everett’s personal opinion that seeps its way into “body” rather than the message “body” itself revealed to me.

 Through the existence of the poem itself, “Body” is challenging the separation between disciplinary writings. It is challenging the idea that if you are a creative writer you cannot written about the challenges of a scientific experiment, or the processes of the human body. It is also challenging the scorn that english writers put onto the sciences as being “not creative”. “Body” is expressing a desire to nullify scorn by understanding the fluidity in the mind’s ability. I am sure that there are many scientists who could (with practice) make great creative writers, and there are many writers that could (with practice) be great scientists. There is an unnecessary amount of scorn given between disciplinary fields, when each field has its worth because of its academia. Anything that challenges the mind and is a pursuit that benefits people should not be faced with scorn because it is not something one finds interesting.

Now what can we do with this lesson? Again It seems Everett is teaching us to be less scornful by being scornful to scorn (say that ten times, fast). My answer, which may or may not coincide with Everrett’s intention, is to learn to appreciate all academic and scholarly pursuit. I personally am not a huge science person and have found myself critiquing the sciences because they are challenging and unenjoyable. After reading “body” I have a greater appreciation not of the sciences themselves, but those who pursue the sciences. It takes a smart and dedicated person to enjoy something that I find dull and challenging. My hope for the readers of this blog post is to come to appreciate all forms of scholarly pursuit, and maybe even branch out a bit with your interests. As students we limit ourselves by thinking of ourselves in categories of “english major” and “bio major”, when in fact we are all just students seeking knowledge to better ourselves. Who are we to deny the knowledge someone wishes to bestow upon us, even if it isn’t something we find enjoyable? This is not to say you must like all fields of academia rather we should accept the fields as an admirable pursuit, and reserve scorn. To cap this blog post off I will leave you all with some lyrics from a song written by Nick Lowe, which Elvis Costello sang. The song is called “(What’s So Funny ‘Bout) Peace, Love, and Understanding” and I believe it captures the essence of this blog post and many of my previous posts.

As I walk through

This wicked world

Searchin’ for light in the darkness of insanity

I ask myself

Is all hope lost?

Is there only pain and hatred, and misery?

And each time I feel like this inside

There’s one thing I wanna know;

What’s so funny ’bout peace love and understanding?

-Nick Lowe

Link to “Passion For Perception” below

https://readerandtext.sunygeneseoenglish.org/wp-admin/post.php?post=4845&action=edit

Posted on by Isaac Schiller - No Comments on An Icon of American Character

An Icon of American Character

Reflecting on one’s actions and transforming from one’s realizations “is what education and learning are about” (Williams, Wooliams, Spiro 121). One transforms into a version of oneself who is better suited to achieve one’s goals. But what are we reflecting on? Are we reflecting on ourselves, or is it possible that we can observe a version of ourselves through the lens of what we “should” become based on American societal values? Can we claim that we are entirely ourselves just because we are not physically the role models our society believes we should become? Continue reading “An Icon of American Character”

Posted on by Kevin Reed - No Comments on Mosaic People, Just Ships In The Dark

Mosaic People, Just Ships In The Dark

“Does my memory of you consist in parts? Simple, component parts? Ascending and descending segments, your curve in space. Are you a composite? Or are you a whole, your name, all of you at once, a simple element?” 

Much like my last blog post, this post begins with a quote from Percival Everett’s Re: f(gesture), from a poem titled (logic). This quote alludes (at least in my mind) to a concept that was discussed in our class while reading Everett’s I Am Not Sidney Piotier. This is the thought experiment of the “Ship of Theseus”. The Ship of Theseus thought experiment revolves around a scenario where the greek hero Theseus’ ship is falling apart so it is restored plank by plank over time. The question raised by this scenario is; is the ship of Theseus still the same ship that left when his journey began? Or has it become new ship as each one of its component parts have been replaced? This is a very rudimentary explanation of this thought experiment, but it will suffice for the purposes of my discussion. It seems that (logic) is making a reference to the philosophical question that this thought experiment raises. 

Prior to reading the quote cited above, I had not considered a real world application of this thought experiment. It had always seemed to me that this philosophical inquiry remained purely within the context of Theseus’ ship. I had never attempted to branch this concept into my own reality. On the other hand, (logic) seemingly branches this idea to the human condition, to the human reality. (Logic) questions whether people are made of parts, if we are perceived by our particular attributes, or if we are one whole element in space. My answer to this question is that we are made of parts. 

From a very scientific sense we are made up of billions of cells, each one dying at one point in our life span. Technically speaking we are made of component parts that are constantly replaced, in other words we are much like Theseus’ ship. Theoretically the person we are born as isn’t the same person say in 20 years time. That is in a literal sense, but if one looks at it in terms of how we grow, we are not the same person as when we were young. From personal experience, over this semester I can safely say that I have become a different person. Through learning lessons from Professor McCoy, and Everett’s writing, I have had my outlook on life altered greatly. I have said this before in my posts, but my life has changed from a structured reality to one of fluidity. What was once black and white is now grey, and I am better off because of this. This is just one of many examples from my personal experience, but I am sure if you took the time to reflect you could see how you have changed since you were young.

 I am not the same Kevin as I was at the beginning of the semester, but I cannot attest to the experiences of others. This change and growth was only possible through the fact that I am a composite being comprised of joy and sadness, experience and inexperience, knowledge and ignorance, and two strands of DNA compiled into one. To imagine people as fixed beings is to fail to fundamentally understand humans. Humans are fluid creatures constantly changing, yet trying to live in a world ruled by structure. We can not be as Everett puts it “a whole, your name, all of you at once, a simple element”. I am not Kevin the individual being, unlike no other in the world. I am my father, and mother, I am my brother, I am my friends. My being is so directly tied to the existence of others that I cannot say I am a whole, one person. I am a composite. 

When I first saw the quote by Everett, “I AM NOT MYSELF TODAY”, I thought I had an understanding of the meaning that was grounded, but upon writing this post I have found new meaning in it. No one can be themselves when they are constantly changing, there is no standard of who someone should be in order to be “themselves”. We are composite beings and when one of those aspects change we become a new person, we become ourselves. The past versions of ourselves live only in memory and recollection, who we have become is who we are. I can truly say that I am not “myself” today and I will never be “myself” again, I will only be who I am. 
People are composite, parts of a greater world put into a mold of flawed design. Once we understand the fluidity of people scorn can be decreased. Fluidity lends an inherent attribute of growth, and if people can learn and grow from the things that bring scorn upon them, they can bar themselves from such scornful action. I don’t mean to change this to a “self love” blog post but there is something to be said to the fact that understanding that we are constantly changing, it is easier to appreciate how amazing we truly are. Each one of us is a mosaic of culture, and upbringing whose existence is so miraculous, it is hard not to appreciate ourselves when you think deeply about it. Neil Degrasse Tyson said that the number of people who could be born, won’t be. All of my life I have heard people talk of the “miracle of life” and for most of my life I didn’t get it. I took people for granted, their existence as inherent. Through (logic) I can appreciate the beauty of humanity much better than I once could. I do not say I believe in miracles, but I believe in people. We are all just ships wandering in the dark without a clue where we are going, fixing ourselves as we crash into the waves.

Posted on by Shelagh Neeley - No Comments on Can Logic be too much?

Can Logic be too much?

When reading Percival Everett’s book of poems titled, “re: f (gesture)” there’s a section named Logic. Logic is the shortest of the 3 sections in this book. When reading through Logic, there’s a poem that caught my attention and intrigued me. The poem that intrigued me is the 3rd one in the section. The third poem speaks about memory, “Does my memory of you consist in parts? Simple, component in parts?” (Everett, 67)

Poem 3 is an interesting one in my opinion. This is because I’ve always been fascinated with the mind, and why we as humans do what we do. The part of the poem that sparked my interest was the first couple sentences I mentioned earlier. “Does my memory of you consist in parts? Simple, component parts?” (Everett, 67) I’ve learned that the mind does amazing things to protect us from trauma, like blocking out an event from your memory. This is like a defense mechanism for our body, and our mind. According to a Science Daily article, “According to McLaughlin, if the brain registers an overwhelming trauma, then it can essentially block that memory in a process called dissociation, or detachment from reality. ‘The brain will attempt to protect itself,’ she added.” (Science Daily) By doing this, your brain does protect itself, it protects you as well from facing any heartache, or emotional trauma. “Dissociation causes a lack of connection in a person’s thoughts, memory and/or sense of identity and it’s extremely common to experience a case of mild dissociation. For example, if you’ve recently gotten ‘lost’ in a book or daydreamed at work, then you’ve experienced a common form of mild dissociation. A severe and more chronic form of dissociation is seen in mental illnesses and rare forms of dissociative disorders, such as dissociative identity disorder, which was once called multiple personality disorder. The same way the body can wall-off an abscess or foreign substance to protect the rest of the body, the brain can dissociate from an experience. In the midst of trauma, the brain may wander off and work to avoid memory. However, not all psyches are alike, and what may be severe trauma for one person may not be as severe for another person.” (Science Daily) When a major event happens the ensues trauma, your brain blocks that memory out, basically, it crumbles it up like a piece a paper and throws it away from your mind.

One question that popped into my mind while reading this poem, can logic be a sort of trauma? Can one person learn so much, that it just becomes so much, that the person must block out some pieces of knowledge and relearn all of that blocked out knowledge. I scrolled around the web and I found an intriguing article from Teaching Tolerance. “Students who are experiencing trauma can be retraumatized in school through poorly chosen readings, activities, and assignments. Gorski offers an example, ‘I often hear from students who are learning about racism in the past tense,’ he says. ‘For instance, they are reading To Kill a Mockingbird and learning about what it was like for people of color ‘back then’. At the same time, they are experiencing racism in school and in their communities in the present tense.” (Gaffney) This can be blocked out by students, because they are learning about it in the classroom, but it’s happening out of the classroom as well. Students might be dealing with this themselves, so, the brain blocks this, to protect them. “Outside of individual lessons, other curricular structures can harm students. Kass Minor, a consultant with the Teachers College Inclusive Classrooms Project, says one common policy that does real harm is tracking, the practice of sorting and separating students based on perceived academic ability. Although tracking may be intended to offer extra support for students who need it, the messages it sends are anything but supportive.” (Gaffney) One thing I learned when I entered the education major, and when I started working with kids in general, I learned to never display their academic work on for everyone to see. It not only embarrasses the child, but it also embarrasses the family as well. This is a form of trauma that some parents, even teachers, aren’t even aware of. I know some teachers may not intend for this to be the meaning of the display, but it ends up hurting and traumatizing the child.

A quote that is stated in the article by Cornelius Minor, “As teachers, we do things for kids because they are human, not because they will thank us or because we caught them being ‘good’” (Gaffney) This quote is true; kids are humans too. Kids have faults, kids get tired of learning for an hour straight, they have a short attention span. When they see something shiny, they stare at the shiny item. Just like in the movie “Up!”, when Doug see’s, well thinks he sees, a squirrel. He trails off for a second, and then comes back to reality. Kids are innocent enough, coming from a teacher-to-be perspective, give a child a break once in a while to have them go play.

Works Cited:

“Can You Unconsciously Forget an Experience?” ScienceDaily, Texas A&M University, 9 Dec. 2016, https://www.sciencedaily.com/releases/2016/12/161209081154.htm.

Gaffney, Carrie. “When Schools Cause Trauma.” Teaching Tolerance, 2019, https://www.tolerance.org/magazine/summer-2019/when-schools-cause-trauma.

Posted on by Ashley Kupiec - No Comments on 7 (6)

7 (6)

Percival Everett’s poem “6” from the Logic section of his book re: f(gesture) is, interestingly enough, not about six, but rather about seven. The poem opens with “Seven men / can be obliterated” (Everett 70). Following this, seven becomes the focal point of the poem, mentioned seven times including this first instance. I found this intriguing and definitely ironic; why is seven so important that it’s in the spotlight of a poem called “6”?

Continue reading
Posted on by Ashley Kupiec - No Comments on Middle Fingers to Order

Middle Fingers to Order

A few weeks ago in class, Dr. McCoy asked us to line up in alphabetical order by last name. For a relatively large group of people, I think we were able to accomplish the task pretty quickly. Everyone seemed to have a general awareness of where in the line-up they would fall. Having been ordered in this way for most of our public lives, we had grown used to it. While discussing this later in the class period, my classmates and I questioned why we often situate things alphabetically. Thinking of dictionaries, The Bedford, work cited pages, and indexes, we determined that the reason is ultimately to make things easier to organize. Many people learn their ABCs when they’re very young children and they don’t ever forget them; it makes sense to use something so deeply ingrained in our heads to organize most of our lives.

My classmate Sarah brought up an interesting point, however; what even is alphabetical order? Why are the letters even listed in the specific order that they are? Everyone in my group laughed a little; none of us knew the answer to these questions, and we felt a bit silly–why are we so keen on following alphabetical order when we don’t even know why the order exists in the first place?

Continue Reading
Posted on by Isaac Schiller - No Comments on Composbite

Composbite

There is snow on the ground. Those walking outside without mittens, jackets, and scarves might physically develop a condition known as “frostbite.” I know that to acquire frostbite is to have the tissue under one’s skin frozen. It’s a condition that could land one in a hospital. That’s science. That’s just how my body works. It’s my irrational mind that tells me to put on flip-flops while leaving my dorm. My brain is part of me that decides to make risky decisions that the spirit of frostbite (which hovers ten feet above Geneseo in November) loves. But is my brain not a part of my body? And although my actions are irrational, can they be separated from the organ that creates my risk taking behavior? Continue reading “Composbite”

Posted on by Kevin Reed - No Comments on Subjective Perspective of (Logic)

Subjective Perspective of (Logic)

“A queer conception, sublime logic.” 

This quote is taken from Percival Everett’s collection of poems Re: f(gesture), under the poem (Logic). When I stumbled upon this line while reading (Logic), something felt familiar. First I suppose I should break down what I interpreted from this quote before I explain the familiarity I felt. It seems that (Logic) is discussing the idea that to everyday people logic is understood as what is “common”,  “normal”, or “simple” in terms of action or thought. It is often paired with the idea of acting logical. However, the poem seems to point out that logic itself is not simple, it is rooted in perspective. Logic has no definition in The Bedford Glossary of Critical and Literary Terms, but the Cambridge Dictionary defines it as “a particular way of thinking, esp. one that is reasonable and based on good judgment”. It seems that logic is presented as a universal concept of reason. The idea of whether something is logical or not is accepted as a set line, a standard that is never defined but should be easily understood. This quote from (Logic) is begged the notion in my mind that there cannot be a universality in logic because what is reasonable to one may not be reasonable to another. 

I discussed in my first blog post the significance of perspective. I noted how an important step in writing is not necessarily the content, but the lens in which we present it. It seems to me that (Logic) is presenting a different significance to perspective, that is: subjectivity. The Bedford defines subjectivity as “Broadly speaking, subjectivity is associated with the internal reality- with perceptions and thoughts arising and based in a given individual’s mind- and thus with bias and relative truth.”. Using this idea of subjectivity, when reading the excerpt from (Logic), one can see the point it is making regarding logic. The idea of logic is strange and beautiful, that there should be a universal standard of thought when people are objectively subjective creatures. People will always think, write, and speak with bias. There is no instance where a writer can be completely objective, and why would we want them to? Subjectivity is what gives a writer a voice. When I read the works of Poe, Huxley, or even Everett, I do not engage with the writing because it is an objective analysis of events. I engage because I enjoy the writer’s voice, their subjective perspective is what my mind enjoys because it is allowing me to an interesting way of thinking. Subjectivity is the essence of what engaging writing is, and what being human is. However, this is what makes the idea of logic so strange. In spite of our subjective nature we attempt to set a universal standard as to what we consider “common thought”. 

This leads me to the “familiar” feeling I had mentioned previously in this blog post. When I first read the excerpt from (Logic), it immediately reminded me of the quote our class was introduced to by Professor McCoy at the beginning of the year, from Percival Everett’s Erasure. “It’s incredible that a sentence is ever understood. Mere sounds strung together by some agent attempting to mean something, but the meaning need not and does not confine itself to that intention.”. This quote notes the beauty in language, interpretation, and perspective. It is miraculous that through the utterance of sounds, we are able to change the world around us, to convey meaning. This is very similar to the “Sublime Logic” that (Logic) discusses. There is a certain beauty in the fact that humans can even communicate at all, yet we fail to acknowledge it because it is so routine. We set standards of reasoning and communication that when not achieved, a person is faced with scorn. 

What can be taught or taken from this message? We should attempt to take a moment to appreciate the beauty in our routine human function. We should appreciate the strange nature of logic, how it is never defined but always expected. For myself, I have lived in a very black and white world, right is right and wrong is wrong. Reading the works of Everett, and understanding that the world is grey has lead me to be less scornful and angry. When someone insults me I am more easily able to see that the communication we are attempting is strange, beautiful, and more complex than it seems. I am able to forgive, with the understanding that each of us is just trying to do our best. I am happier now that I have an appreciation for logic and communication. Communication is key into a functional life, yet it is so unbelievably ambiguous and subjective. If we take the time to appreciate the complexity of language, we are more likely to be forgiving of miscommunication. We should try to take a moment and appreciate that it is incredible that a sentence is ever understood.

Posted on by Leila Sassouni - No Comments on Logic and Common Sense

Logic and Common Sense

I tend to associate the term logic with the idea of common sense, or practical sense. I assume that it takes basic knowledge or common sense to be able to break down a math problem, such as 5 times 5. As a student who progressed through both elementary as well as high school math courses, I know how to break this down. I count the number five, five times, and that is how I find the answer. But, to another individual who did not receive the same education as I did, this is not common sense. They may question why they must add up the number five, five separate times. Or, without me having learned the foundation of addition and multiplication in the first place, I, too, would have no idea what I am doing. Logic is way more complex than it is said to be; it is in fact not common sense.

The term logic, as defined by Lexico, is “Reasoning conducted or assessed according to strict principles of validity.” The term is well associated with a recent class discussion in which our class discussed a section of poems, entitled “(Logic)”, in Percival Everett’s re:f (gesture) anthology. While as a class we tried to break each poem down, piece by piece, I know I continued to struggle with figuring out how to interpret the words.

One of the readings in this section ignited the most confusion for me, as it is written, “Let us assume X./ Even such signs have/ some place, some/ language X./ Constituent parts/ compose this reality–/ molecules, atoms, simple/ X” (66). 

To start, there is no practical knowledge within these statements. I do not understand how my knowledge can apply specifically to, “Constituent parts/ compose this reality…”. What does this even mean? How is this logical in the sense that it is regarded as common sense? Then, there is the aspect that there is math written in the English language. Math and English are two completely different languages, each with different meanings and symbols. It says, “Let us assume X” which appears as the start of a mathematical equation or a statement written in words. But, aside from its linguistic structure, nothing about this reading actually makes sense or encompasses the foundation of the English language. How would I know what “molecules, atoms, simple / X” means without having previously studied that branch of science? This is not common sense.

The term sense, within the phrasing of common sense, according to Lexico, is “a way in which an expression or a situation can be interpreted; a meaning.” While in some regards this definition does live up to its expectations because in order to make sense of logic I must find meaning and make interpretations, in other ways it does not associate. When piecing together the terms common and sense, common means that it is something that is known or that many people tend to know, and sense is the meaning or interpretation. This essentially implies that common sense, even in logic, is known by everyone because of the fact that it is categorized as common sense. But doesn’t that accumulate more confusion for people who do not have a basis for this knowledge?

Last year I was in an Introduction to Logic class to fulfill a math credit since I preferred to take an “easier” class than one like calculus where I would be drained of all of my energy. I went into this class as a second semester freshman under the impression that there would be very limited brain work in this course. I had the saying “Logic is common sense” in my head, convincing me that I made the right choice to enroll and that I would receive an easy A. I could not have been more wrong. I would approximate that for 90% of the semester, I was completely unsure of what I was being taught. I would attend the Teacher Assistant hours during the week, overwhelmed by the continuous sequences on the board, trying my hardest to go back and understand the foundation of the work my class was doing. Logic requires understanding various formulas in order to break statements down. Logic includes knowing how to prove the validity or invalidity of mathematical statements, and to be able to interpret oddly shaped symbols.

One questionable validity or invalidity statement written on the board one day said, “Mr. Aarons is a wolf but also a professor.” How was I supposed to know how to interpret this or answer this? How does one go from having a prefix of mister, to identifying as an animal and then also a professor? How was I to infer whether this statement written in English was invalid while using math? And most importantly, how was I to prove that this was a logical statement when nothing that was written made sense or had the foundation for common sense?

My roommate, who was also in my class, stared at me with the most confused expression on her face. Neither of us knew what we were doing.

In light of both this course as well as Everett’s anthological section “(Logic)”, it can be explicitly said that logic is indeed not common sense. To succeed, an abundance of brain power is necessary, as well as outside mathematical knowledge.

Posted on by Ashley Kupiec - No Comments on What’s in a name?

What’s in a name?

Percival Everett’s abecedarian set of poems Zulus from his book re: f(gesture) comments on the importance of naming children. On two separate occasions, the speaker states, “Always name offspring” (Everett 20, 28). Zulus makes a statement on the power of names, and their necessity in forming identities; it highlights the tragedy that can occur when a name–the first gateway into identity–is carelessly left blank.

The cautionary phrase is first evoked in the “F” section of Zulus: “F is for Frankenstein, / who did not name his baby. / Always name offspring” (20). I have actually just read the romantic novel Frankenstein by Mary Shelley in my Nature of Inquiry class, and the speaker’s statement could not be more accurate. Many people think (myself included until I read the novel) that “Frankenstein” is the name of the re-animated monster in the story, mainly because modern-day media often portrays it as such. In actuality, Frankenstein is really the last name of the scientist who creates the monster, Victor Frankenstein. In the original novel, the monster is nameless, generally referred to as the “creature.”

Continue reading