Literary Epistle: Brave New World

14 May 2017

Sophomore English  

Room US028  

Dear Students:  

Aldous Huxley's Brave New World can be classified as a novel, but it is also clearly a satire. As such, it represents a form of satire that flourished in the twentieth century and continues to thrive in the current century: the dystopian novel. You all have heard the term dystopia before. It designates a world that is the polar opposite of a utopia (which, after all, is a Greek word meaning “no place”); often it is the result of efforts to create a utopia that have gone horribly wrong. But Huxley doesn't employ the typical dystopian vision where a powerful centralized government exercises absolute control through propaganda and terror. In Huxley's World State, a powerful centralized government exercises absolute control through conditioning and pleasure. The stunningly nightmarish premise of Brave New World is that the inhabitants of the World State voluntarily submit to their own servitude. They don't have to be coerced whatsoever because they are too distracted--being too well entertained--to notice that the price of the continual pleasure they enjoy is their freedom and individuality.

 

The world that Huxley creates for us in his novel is one that is far removed from that of Homer's Odyssey, except perhaps for the island of the Phaeacians. In Brave New World the ongoing struggle for self-mastery achieved through deferred gratification is gone. In Huxley's World State, the subjects are created and conditioned to seek immediate gratification of every appetite. Yet the author whom Huxley chooses to represent the lost world of the self-mastering quest is not Homer, but Shakespeare. In fact, the title Brave New World comes from Shakespeare's The Tempest.

 

One of Shakespeare's final dramas, The Tempest tells the story of Prospero, formerly Duke of Milan, whose brother usurped his title when Prospero neglected his duties to study magic. After being exiled from Milan and set adrift on the sea, Prospero has lived on a deserted island with his daughter Miranda for twelve years. One subplot of the play has Miranda meeting Ferdinand, the son of Prospero's old enemy, the king of Naples, after Prospero magically forces his enemies who are sailing from Africa to Italy to abandon ship and swim to the island. The youngsters fall madly in love with each other. To Ferdinand, Miranda embodies every perfection. To Miranda, Ferdinand is the most handsome and gentle of his sex that she has ever seen. Prospero allows them to become betrothed--indeed, that seems to be part of his plan--but continually warns them to act with restraint and abstain from sexual activity until they can return to Italy and marry. Near the end of the play, upon seeing all of the recent arrivals gathered together before Propsero's cell, Miranda utters the line, "O brave new world that has such people in it." She pronounces this line in wonder because she hasn't seen this many representatives of her race before. What she doesn't realize is that some of the men that stand before her are the very ones that overthrew her father, a couple of whom may still be unreformed. Much of The Tempest has to do with the difficulty of mastering one's impulses and appetites, as well as valuing more highly that which is obtained through great effort and difficulty, and so Huxley's references to it carry a great deal of irony.

 

Huxley sprinkles in other Shakespearean allusions as well, notably from Romeo and Juliet, King Lear, Hamlet, and Othello. Huxley introduces Shakespeare to the novel as a measure of what the masters of the Brave New World have sacrificed in order to attain the goals of "Community, Identity, Stability." Shakespeare, among other authors, has become taboo in the World State. Ingeniously, as with everything else that the Controllers proscribe, they accomplish the eradication of Shakespeare less by actually banning his works than by making them irrelevant. Providing continuous sensual stimulation and satisfaction seems to erase from the inhabitants any inclination to strive for anything more profound than the feelies, synthetic music, obstacle golf, and soma holidays.   

 

Another point of interest about the novel is the odd nature of its protagonist: Bernard Marx. Marx possesses several less-than-desirable traits: He's conniving and self-pitying to name a couple. Yet Marx is sharp enough to detect that something is amiss in the Brave New World, if only because of the mistreatment and discomfort that he suffers. At the Reservation, he makes a connection with John, and immediately devises a plan to exploit John's trust in him to strike a blow against his enemy, the DHC. But the fact that John feels a certain sympathy for Bernard and he for John indicates that, for all his imperfections, there is something profoundly human about him. Bernard's friend Helmholtz Watson possesses more admirable qualities, yet Huxley chooses to keep the focus on Bernard. It seems entirely appropriate that he does so.

 

In this prescient novel, Huxley raises some questions that, in the age of globalization, are worth asking. One of the chief questions seems to be whether a life of shallow satisfaction in a climate of engineered order and stability is superior to a life that involves struggle and perhaps even turmoil and disorder that create opportunities for the growth and excellence of the individual. Our very understanding of what it means to be human rests on how we may answer that question.

   

I hope that’s helpful. What do you think?  

Bravely yours,  

Dr. Carlson  

 

Literary Epistle: Macbeth (Final)

Room US028

2 May 2017

 

 

 

Dear Students,

 

What can we learn from Shakespeare’s Macbeth that we can carry into our lives today? We’ve discussed the historical circumstances of its creation at a time when England suffered considerable turmoil because of the religious differences among the subjects of King James. The play definitely holds a mirror up to its own time period and shows us what were some of the foremost concerns on the minds and in the hearts of Shakespeare’s contemporaries, yet in later times others have still been able to find in the play a mirror of themselves and their own lives. It’s interesting and significant that this tragedy was the favorite of Abraham Lincoln, for instance. In a time as tumultuous as our own, we may be able to find wisdom and solace in the play as well.

 

One element of the play that seems to hold a timeless and universal interest for its audiences is its dissection of evil. The play stands out among Shakespeare’s other creations in this respect. Not that Shakespeare ignores the presence and operation of evil in his other plays. Even his so-called comedies often dramatize the confrontation with evil in the hearts of human beings. Macbeth also doesn’t differ from his other plays by dramatizing the eventual overthrow of evil and the restoration of a way of life based on integrity of character. Macbeth stands out among the other plays for its portrayal of the supernatural, as well as the natural, causes of evil. We know that Shakespeare’s highlighting of the Weird Sisters and their influence over the events of the play has something to do with the fact that King James was fascinated by the subject of witchcraft. One of the sources upon which Shakespeare bases the drama, Ralph Holinshed’s Chronicles of England, Scotland, and Ireland recounts the meeting between Macbeth and the Weird Sisters; but the implication that evil may have sources both beyond and within the individual person is nowhere so much present in Shakespeare’s other plays as it is in Macbeth. Yet there is also never a suggestion in the play that outside forces are solely responsible for Macbeth’s descent into evil. Although the Weird Sisters may powerfully influence Macbeth, they only do so by playing upon Macbeth’s natural inclinations. Their equivocation works because, to some extent, Macbeth wants to believe what their statements seem to say on the surface. He never examines their deeper ambiguity because they cater to ambitions and desires to which he is already inclined.

 

Another aspect of evil that Macbeth explores and dramatizes powerfully is its nature as a “slippery slope.” To put it another way: Did you ever know anyone who did something wrong and then had to do something equally wrong in order to cover up the first wrong? Perhaps it was a lie that someone told, and in order not to be found out had to tell another lie later, and so on and so forth, until it seemed that there was no turning back to the truth. That scenario parallels what we see happening to Macbeth. In order to get away with killing Duncan, Macbeth silences the two who guard Duncan’s chamber. Then in order to protect what Macbeth has won by killing Duncan, he has Banquo murdered. As Macbeth says, “I am in blood / Stepped in so far that, should I wade no more, / Returning were as tedious as go o’er” (3.4.168-70).  In other words, he has reached the point of no return. From that point on, the murders he has committed are more bold, bloody, and gratuitous than the ones performed at the beginning of this bloody career. The murder of Macduff’s wife and children represents the low point of Macbeth’s descent from a decent, noble person to one led by ambition to become a bloodthirsty tyrant.

 

The final insight about evil to which the play leads is that evil has an isolating effect. The observation that I shared with you about the loving nature of Macbeth’s marriage with Lady M. applies especially well to the earlier part of the play. A frequent critique of the play is that the second half of the action doesn’t retain the power of the first part because Lady M. drops almost completely out of the action. This, however, is a symptom of the isolation that occurs when someone is far gone in evil. Toward the end of the play, not only do we see Lady M. and Macbeth as being further isolated from one another, but also we see that Macbeth has become more and more isolated from everyone around him, friend and foe alike. As Malcolm and the rebels advance on Dunsinane, everyone seems to abandon Macbeth as the false hopes that he placed in the Weird Sisters’ pronouncements are shown to be false. With his back figuratively against the wall, Macbeth says, “They have me tied to a stake. I cannot fly, / But, bear-like, I must fight the course” (5.7.1-2). In this metaphor, Macbeth refers to the sport--popular in that day--of bear-baiting. The bear was chained to a stake and a pack of dogs were released to attack it. Spectators would bet either on the dogs or on the bear. It was a brutal practice, but the image captures perfectly how alone Macbeth feels at that moment. By that point, Lady M. has died, there are none seemingly that remain loyal to him, enemies surround him, and he is left in isolation to meet his bad end.

 

If these observations about evil and its effects are reminiscent of Dante’s Inferno, it should come as no surprise. Shakespeare was drawing on a long tradition of insights, an age-old conversation or dialogue that has taken place since the earliest days of our culture--about the nature of good and evil. He knew both by instruction and experience how powerful the truth of those insights were. Those who have been unfortunate enough to experience the horrors of evil know that they are still true today.

 

Someone may object that the play is not so much about metaphysical or moral evil in general, but more specifically about political corruption and the abuse of power characteristic of tyrants. After all, the Weird Sisters arouse Macbeth’s ambitions to be king and to gain the power and prestige that comes with wearing the crown, and these ambitions specifically set him off on a course that leads to a reign of terror over Scotland. While this view would not be totally incorrect, upon further reflection it becomes evident that Shakespeare uses this situation as a means of examining evil in a more general way. After all, when Macbeth visits the Weird Sisters a second time to chart his course after the death of Banquo, they do not “all hail” him as king, but their words of welcome rather emphasize the evil creature he has become. As he approaches, the Second Witch intones, “By the pricking of my thumbs, / Something wicked this way comes” (4.1.44-5). These lines are a clear indication that Macbeth has not just become a corrupt ruler, but a thoroughly evil man.

 

Still, it is fully characteristic of Shakespeare that in spite of these recognitions about evil, he doesn’t allow us to reach an easy judgment about Macbeth the man. Shakespeare cultivates both an ethical and aesthetic ambiguity in our verdict about Macbeth. Toward the end, as he displays ever greater defiance and courage, even Macbeth’s enemies grudgingly admire him, as Caithness reveals when he says of Macbeth, “Some say he’s mad; others that lesser hate him / Do call it valiant fury” (5.2.15-6). Shakespeare forces us to acknowledge the magnificence of Macbeth by giving him some of the best lines and greatest poetry of the play. Finally, if you were an actor wanting to test your skills and build your reputation, which part would you be auditioning for: Macbeth, Macduff, or Malcolm?

 

I know what the answer would be for me.

 

I hope that’s helpful. What do you think?

 

Dramatically yours,

Dr. MacCarlson