A Tale of Two Irishmen



Liam Neeson's inspiring performance
 in the film Michael Collins



Earlier this week, in anticipation for my family’s trip to Ireland, my parents and I watched a movie called Michael Collins.  This movie details the true story of the title character and his leadership in the early 20^th century Irish revolution.  Michael Collins fought in the Easter Rising of 1916 and henceforth played a major role in fighting against the oppression of the United Kingdom.  The English rule over Ireland was, in a word, ridiculous; simply to assert their authority, the British crown would find any way to tax Irish citizens.  For example, they taxed the amount of light entering a citizen’s house.  As I said: ridiculous.  So when Michael Collins led his band of revolutionists against the British rule and their policemen-like representatives in the island called “G” men, much of Ireland regarded Collins as a hero.  This little history lesson provides a clear parallel between Irish history and the tale of Michael Collins and Ken Kesey’s One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest and its protagonist, R.P. McMurphy.  I cannot help but think Kesey didn’t have Michael Collins in mind when he created his hero, McMurphy.  His Irish surname, red hair, boisterous personality, and assertive and brash nature create a grand comparison to Collins.  In addition, the manner in which he went about fighting Nurse Ratched and the oppressive forces of the Combine greatly resemble Collins’ tactics of persuading the Irish masses to join him against the U.K. and only because he found it necessary to get his point across to the “G” men, used violence.  In Michael Collins, the title character says to rally a group to support him, “if they shut me up, who will take my place?”  I believe this inspirational question mirrors McMurphy’s behavior in trying to pass on his brave strength to the rest of the patients, the way he gave Chief Bromden self-confidence to speak and other members independence on their fishing adventure.  He needed someone to take his place because he knew the fight against Nurse Ratched embodied more than a personal quarrel and he needed someone to carry it out when he left.  Unfortunately, both heroic leaders of these revolutions died untimely deaths, acting as martyrs for each cause.  After Collins negotiated with Great Britain and created the Anglo-Irish Treaty, a controversial treaty that established the Republic of Ireland as a free state, but kept Northern Ireland under British jurisdiction, a member of treaty opposition murdered the Irish leader.  To parallel with the fictional Irishman, McMurphy, Bromden killed him after he had carried out his plan to free many of the patients, emotionally and physically, from the rule of Nurse Ratched.  These figures present the heroic idea to stand up and fight for what you believe in to bring life and freedom to the downtrodden.  I leave with another quote from the movie that could very well apply to McMurphy and his loyal followers: “life without him seems impossible. But he’s dead. And life is possible. He made it possible.”

He Lives in You, He Lives in Me

I am Chief Bromden.  What an odd realization.  It quite disturbed me when I realized how very true this is.  First off, you may notice the late hour of this blog post.  Tonight I opted to delay all my work until fairly recently, when I realized the long list of tasks in front of me and had a mini mind explosion.  In keeping with the Chief Bromden metaphor, I would not see the screen of this computer due to the heavy fog that would engulf me.  I decided on the easy route out of my stress and checked off one of the easy, optional ticks on my list and made cupcakes.  So, my third period Calculus classmates—enjoy your baked goods at our mega-birthday party tomorrow.  They are overflowing with love…and stress…literally—I may have gotten a bit overzealous in pouring the liquid joy into the freakishly small bake cups.  If this behavior isn’t archetypal escapism, I don’t know what is.  I might as well feel a fog rolling over me. 

On to my second strange comparison, you may or may not have noticed, but I rarely speak in discussions. I act the same way at my house.  My family is one of six very opinionated, stubborn, talkative people.  I fall at the end of that line, so I have learned to sit back and listen instead of joining the fight for talking time.  I do not mean to make any excuses for missed discussion points; this is something I am working to improve.  But I acknowledge that I often act like a deaf mute in AP English, sitting with a wealth of points to make, but listening and watching instead of joining the group.  Anyway, I also do not talk out of sheer frustration with my dad.  For example, last night, my mom, dad, and I talked over dinner and my dad brought me up and talked about me, in the third person.  It was very odd; I sat feet away from him thinking how strange the situation was.  I thought of Bromden’s similar experience with the intruders in his Indian home.  Maybe I should act on this realization that I act so eerily similar to Chief Bromden.  Perhaps some shock therapy would do the trick?

Underdogs

One day during last week’s discussion, our class extensively debated whether or not the Ward’s small World Series revolution would actually amount to anything worthwhile or if their efforts would be futile.  Here we have the classic underdog battle.  In my opinion, even if the end looks grim, these mental patients should fight this battle.  Some members of my class speculated that even if they somehow overthrew Big Nurse, another authoritarian leader just as strict would take her place.  This viewpoint displays the same lack of hope the patients feel.  Our society should never fear change because of what might negatively happen, instead know they have a power to improve and carry on.  At this point in the discussion, I wanted to shout out the multitude of examples where the underdog made a small act to inspire change that altered the course of history.  Rosa Parks comes to mind.  Her simple act of refusing to move for the white supremacy in the bus system instigated the civil rights movement.  Similarly, I hope the simple act of refusing to partake in cleaning time and instead watching the World Series creates change down the road for mental healthcare in this novel.  McMurphy must not bow down, despite the oppression and fear he is fighting; he needs to stay steadfast as their leader so that patients like Billy Bibbit can emulate his courage and join in as an integral part of the fight.  Even if they lose, more importantly they will have made a point in their efforts, and some other group down the line will become inspired and build upon it.

Like Acute Awareness

Today in class, we discussed Chief Bromden’s crippling awareness, how he suffers from seeing so much of a person’s true nature.  Around that point in the discussion, I felt some crippling awareness of my own.  For some reason unbeknownst to me, the idea popped into my head to focus in on the word “like” as people talked.  Never, ever do this! It is a path to destruction. In zeroing in on the minute details of everyone’s speech, I completely missed the big picture and never understood what they tried to communicate.  Just as Bromden sees too acutely, I listened too consciously, and it made me into a dysfunctional student, just as when he shuts himself down, he stops functioning as a normal human being. Kelly, you happened to be the one speaking as this wild thought sprang upon me, so I’m sorry but I did not catch a word you said, except perhaps “like,” a word you say quite frequently I may add.  In no way do I mean to criticize, I know for a fact I am a big culprit of the frequent but unnecessary additions of “like” to conversation.  I only mean to pose the question: why do those in this school with the greatest grasp on the English language (AP English 12 students) need to speak and add worthless diction “like” between every other word? One would think our constant submersion into works of literature with all the brilliant novels, blogs, journals, and in-class essays would elevate our language above the mistakes of common jargon.  We assuredly never write this way, so why speak so terribly? We should all, like, really, like, stop.

Harry Potter: A Wealth of Comparisons

            Spoiler Alert! If you are not a devoted fan of J.K. Rowling’s Harry Potter novels and haven’t read the end of The Deathly Hallows, this blog contains significant information about the conclusion of the series. Seriously, don’t read this if you haven’t read the entirety of the seventh book, I don’t want to be that person that told everyone the end.

A few blog posts ago, I paralleled The Namesake with the Harry Potter series and I blamed my fanatical rant on the fact that the newest movie of the books had just come out.  Now however, I must let my true colors show as an obsessed Harry Potter follower because I have done it again, without an upcoming release to act as my scapegoat. I found a beautiful comparison in Ken Kesey’s One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest.  At one point, the narrator, “Broom” Bromden, a man in a mental hospital masquerading as a deaf mute but instead making keen observations on the happenings of the institution, apostrophizes to the audience, begging to take his mentally unstable views seriously.  He asserts: “It’s the truth even if it didn’t happen” (8).  When I read this, I thought immediately of the end of Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, when Harry has an out-of-body experience after walking to his death. He finds himself in a misty King’s Crossing talking to the ghost of Dumbledore.  At the end of their profound conversation, Harry asks Dumbledore if this strange experience only happened in his head, or if it was real.  The always insightful Albus Dumbledore responds, “Of course it is happening inside your head, Harry, but why on earth should that mean it is not real?” To compare, Bromden’s world as a mental patient, could very well exist solely “inside [his] head,” but still remains noteworthy enough to get published as a novel.  Although the line from Kesey’s book serves to make the audience question his ethos because it “didn’t happen,” this fact remains inconsequential because even as someone mentally unsound, Bromden still presents poignant information worth taking into account.  Dumbledore’s rhetorical question parallels Bromden’s assertion that both reality and fantasy have something to offer, so it does not matter exactly which group something fits in, but rather what the audience takes from it.  In Harry’s case, he took the information from his mentor and went on with hopes to defeat Voldemort once and for all.  In Bromden’s case, or instead, our case as the audience of Kesey’s novel, we will read on with an open mind, willing to learn from Bromden’s plight and apply it to our own lives.  I suppose this pertains to all of AP English 12, because we read fiction novels, those based in illusion instead of fact as non-fiction novels are, and still pull audiences and purposes and grow and change from them. 

Jabbering About "Jabberwocky"



Jabberwocky



By Lewis Carroll

'Twas brillig, and the slithy toves

Did gyre and gimble in the wabe;

All mimsy were the borogoves,

And the mome raths outgrabe.

"Beware the Jabberwock, my son

The jaws that bite, the claws that catch!

Beware the Jubjub bird, and shun

The frumious Bandersnatch!"

He took his vorpal sword in hand;

Long time the manxome foe he sought—



So rested he by the Tumtum tree,

And stood awhile in thought.

And, as in uffish thought he stood,

The Jabberwock, with eyes of flame,

Came whiffling through the tulgey wood,

And burbled as it came!

One, two! One, two! And through and through

The vorpal blade went snicker-snack!

He left it dead, and with its head

He went galumphing back.

"And hast thou slain the Jabberwock?

Come to my arms, my beamish boy!

O frabjous day! Callooh! Callay!"

He chortled in his joy.



'Twas brillig, and the slithy toves

Did gyre and gimble in the wabe;

All mimsy were the borogoves,

And the mome raths outgrabe.



A chilling interpretation of Lewis Carrol's beast,
the Jabberwock



After today’s discussion of the nursery rhyme, “Vintery, Mintery, Cutery, Corn,” I suddenly thought of another similar poem, “Jabberwocky” by Lewis Carroll, from his 1872 novel, Through the Looking Glass and What Alice Found There.  In efforts to make sense of the rhyme, my side of the room pegged definitions on the first three nonsensical words, and more strangely, no one protested them, until Ms. Serensky pointed out that no, these words mean nothing in the English language.  Thus creates the parallel. If you read the posted poem, “Jabberwocky,” you should find, too, that most of the nouns, verbs, and adjectives in this work have no real meaning. Yet, you can understand Carroll’s poem from the articles conjunctions and few familiar words that link it together.  Much like the members of my circle today, I can easily assume some sort of meaning and completely understand the tale of a man slaying the “Jabberwock” beast.  Funny how subtle changes in the English language can play tricks on your mind, right?  This illustrates the purpose of Alice in Wonderland, a dream where she cannot discern the fantasy from reality, or at a smaller level, nonsensical words from the truth.  One might even call her insane.  This idea translates well to the children’s rhyme, “Vintery, Mintery, Cutery, Corn” because it too confuses reality from fantasy to put the reader in Alice’s place of disorder.  Therefore, it translates well with One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest since it has this enigmatic poem as its epigraph. All three literary works prove that everyone has this insanity within them, from Alice, to readers of the children’s verse, to my AP English peers.  I think in Kesey’s novel, we will find a lot of this theme of illusion versus fantasy and how, though people get deemed insane for not knowing the difference, the two have a fuzzy, gray area, in which most people fall.