The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-Time- Social Justice

     Though what I plan to write about is only a small aspect of the story, I do think it's about delivering justice even if it's in a pathetically small way.  Let's cast aside the opinions of the neighborhood and a stressed parent and focus on Christopher, our hopelessly (and actually uncontrollably) earnest protagonist. Not many care about dead dogs, though one with a fork running through it would probably cause more concern than  a chunk of roadkill. But, not many have such a fondness for the easy to read, loyal mammals. And, not many would dedicate more than a few hours wondering about who killed a dog. I, personally, do not like dogs, I find for them to be horribly over-rated and excitable. If I stumbled upon a dead dog, I would walk right by it and would probably forget about the encounter a few minutes after it occurred. Dogs do, I suppose, deserve justice, justice that is very rarely served. The only person honorable enough and earnest enough to try to deliver this justice is an outcast, a boy with autism who's thought to be unintelligent by others (which is a very inaccurate deduction).
  
     It makes me think that the most frowned upon or criticized can often be better people than those that degrade their being. It's a rather amusing idea, that the people thought to inferior actually have a higher morale than those that put them down. Well, I can't say it's surprising, in order to make somebody inferior to oneself, the bully must be both ignorant and arrogant, two traits of stupidity.
    
     By helping a dead dog, Christopher brings not only justice to the dog, but to himself as well. He displayed his interest in things that are often over-looked, he unknowingly proved the people that thought he was stupid wrong. He created for himself a secretive form of self-justice, secretive because he was unaware that he had even created it. He had managed to liberate himself and free himself of stereotypes by just doing what he always does, which is a feat in itself.

Dangerous Laughter

    Steven Millhauser's book of short stories creates an ultimate portrayal of things that while wondrous and inventive, should have never been attempted. A man sits on his workbench, scratching away at ivory, creating a button for a nearly invisible coat. This coat, whispering, 'genuis!' from every carved fur of its lining, was created to be invisible for the fulfillment of an artist with a craving. An artist whose work, while on the verge of being microscopic, should be marveled over and should be seen. A tower begins to crumble, a tower that once had rumors crawling up and down its impenetrable length; rumors that it had reached the heavens, rumors large enough to send the townsfolk up the tower's now fragmented stairs, dreaming of the monstrous fantasy that lay above their heads. Benjamin Hershfeld, the designer of shapeless yet shamelessly suggestive clothing (and later on, the painter of mobile figures, Harlan Crane) wonders about the world, providing for thankless, ravenous customers, people who mindlessly attempt to decipher their art.
     Mysterious and intriguing, all of the masterpieces represented in this book were vital mistakes, resulting in a longing for what shouldn't have been. The craftsman of invisible art, once respected in his practice, was politely and secretively mocked, regarded as a madman. But how meticulous his work had been! How alluring and unusual! It was, though, this strange and lovable art that did him in. This particular artist found himself selfishly needing more. He labored, as though in a trance, over a creation that no other eyes would be able to witness. While self-fulfilling, this practice was discrediting him, he wanted for his art to be praised by others. Yet, he had created a barrier for himself.
     The other stories are the same, creations and creators, while holding the key to their own prison, couldn't help but prefer being locked inside. Each story told the tale of how something dug a ditch for itself, and sometimes in an attempt to get out and, other times, in an attempt to redeem itself, ended up digging only deeper, slowly becoming trapped.
     In the stories this process was so gradual that I quite nearly over-looked them. Having had been transfixed by the characters settle despair, I found myself being slowly dragged down along with them, believing that they, indeed, were the correct ones. I was angered at those that attended Harlan Crane's art expeditions, how could they disgrace such a beautiful painting, dragging down the artist's name? Why be so unsatisfied with a designer's work? It's not as though Hirschfeld forced you to wear his clothes! Then, slowly, I realized why this passion was yet another critical and intentional move on Millhauser's behave. I was forced to reflect on human nature. I saw exactly how comparable the patterns of the general populace was to our reality. In the stories, the humans either blamed or dismissed what they were either angered by or made bored by. Fads in these miniature, alternate universes carry the same patterns as they do here. People to get bored, even by the most spectacular. When confused, they turn away or become red in their faces, throwing a fit. This anger leads to finger-pointing, the blaming of others, and, at the end of it all, it's always that fault of the artist, no matter how superior their work may have been.
     I do find it to be slightly ironic though, that the author of these stories is so heavily praised!

The Phantom Tollbooth (1

     Children are convenient. They're innocent, unexposed, curious and, best of all, gullible. They are the ideal tool for writers, why not start with a clean slate with which to convey a message? Why not reduce our ugly, adult selfs into small, unknowing children? Why not create Milo and place him on a path to a quest, a quest to tell others of our horrors, our flaws and all of the mistakes to carefully avoid? So, Milo was created, a miniature adult with a heart lured to danger and a heroic quest and new friends. Now, let me assure you, this has been done many times before, perhaps not in the same whimsical, word-play filled way, maybe not with the same names or places or the exact same plots, but this has been done before, in very similar ways. 

     The problem with using such conveniences in books, is that others find them to be convenient too. Not to say that Norton was looking for a shortcut around writing the book, He wrote and rewrote it, but I must say that I've started to tire of the same themes (some of which being to avoid hate and malice, draining yourself of life, embarking on journeys of endless tasks...) the same characters (the ones to learn lessons off of, the princesses, the kings, the amusing ones...) and the same hero ( who goes through some life-changing experiences, who saves the ones in need, who tries, and learns and always, always (in these sorts of books at least) succeeds). The first time I read this book, I was won over by its charm, by Chroma the Great and the alluring concerts, by the countless personifications, by the eatable words. But, by re-reading this book, I realized the unless repetitiveness of it, the lessons always learned elsewhere, the lessons that I've been forced to learn over and over again. In the beginning of the book, the pages were filled with annotation after annotation, but as the story dragged on, my scragged writing became sparse, leaving the pages rather barren of notes. It wasn't that my motivation to write that started to decrease so rapidly, but rather the new things to notice that seemed to have disappeared. Why write then rewrite then rewrite again that Milo is still a child and attracted to this childish world of his, that he's a symbol for adults, but reduced into the form of a child, a form in which he'll be able to learn, that he's begun to learn due to this character and that character and this situation and that quest? I did try to dig deeper but ran into stone.

     I wonder, though, is this what makes a children's book? A piece of literature where things are repeated again and again? While reading this book the first time, I was capable of drawing out themes and make text to world connections. Charlotte's Web   did the same thing, it drilled that same things into the reader's mind, endlessly. It seems that these books often underestimate the capabilities of their audience. I do realize that both of the books mentioned do say deeper things. If they didn't, then why would we be re-reading in 8th grade? But I can't help but be frustrated by a clear lack of originality at the roots of the books. I so suppose that there are limits to things that can be (or more like socially accepted to be) conveyed in books directed towards children, but I do feel that, in some ways, the authors have managed to limit themselves. 

Charlotte's Web (3)

     The Loss of Innocence.. eh, Perhaps

     We witness the first day of a milky white pig with the sun shining through his ears. We watch the runt grow. Spring and summer zip by but these seasons don't push Wilbur forward , they do not force him into maturity. Fall comes along with a spider, a motherly, educated (seeming...) and sophisticated friend. Along with Charlotte comes a talkitive sheep, one who tells Wilbur of his looming death. By knowing that death exists and that he's heading towards it, Wilbur begins the slow emersion from his child-like state.
     By slow, I mean that well past the 100 page mark, my annotaions about Wilbur remained critical of his constant whining, selfishness and dependance on others. It was only in the last few dozen pages, when Wilbur displayed the traits of a typical hero (haha! yet another archetype!) by bringing Charlotte's egg sac back to the barn with him. But, even then, it was done for selfish reasons, Wilbur wanted friends. Even when Charlotte's 511 (I'm accounting for those who stayed behind) children flew away in the wind, Wilbur had tears flowing out of his eyes, not out of paternal love, knowing that his 'children' would never return to him, but out of the misery of losing those who provided companionship for him. In the end, Wilbur did remain a child. There are areas, though, that Wilbur did progress in, his vocabulary expanded quite rapidly (but, actually, looking back his sentences seem to have been depsertaly put together and a bit awkward...) and he grew in his size (heh, you can tell from the drawings). But the fact the Wilbur secertly remained a child is one of the things that makes the book more enjoyable, while reading the book one thinks that Wilbur did manage to grow into a full feldged uh.. pig, but when looking back and analyzing Wilbur's actions in relation to particular events, he came off as spoiled and needy.
     Archetypes can actually be quite flexible, it just depends on how you look at them and who's trying to connect what to which archetype.While reading the book the journey was, without a doubt, the journey into maturity, but, looking back, the story seems to have been more like a story about a task. The task was the mission to save Wilbur's life, but that seems to be a bit more specific to Charlotte. And then, the story could also be a bit of a quest due to it's fantasy-like feel and the initial task. So, by looking at the story through several lenses the story can morph into a different form for each character or each time in the book.
Charlotte's Web has characters who sway back and forth between many acrchetypes and force the archetypes to intertwine with one another in order to come up with a label worthy of a particular character's layers in personality. For instance, Tempelton is a 'shadow', a hero and a 'shapeshifter', with little motivation and an infrequent task. Fern is, at first, a hero who later seems to be a bit of a traitor. The books has 3 journeys and many characters, making it so that the archetypes in this book are rarely definite.

Charlotte's Web (2) Annotations

page 60- 'Whenever humans are compared to animals, the humans come off as a tad bit inferior and slow'.... 'See? It makes us seem stupid. This paragraph degrades mankind, turning us into a pointless species'

page 80- 'Sigh. Now every time a human does anything, I can only think about how stupid they come off as in comparison to a spider.'

page 82- 'Ha! And now our stupidity is supreme!'

      There's no need to list anymore annotations, the rest of the book has notes reading 'stupidity' which weave throughout the text. This is another reoccurring theme in Charlotte's Web, the repetitive, pathetic way that gullible humans go about their daily doings. When Mr. Zuckerman sees the word 'terrific' in the web, he can't help but look at Wilbur and think 'terrific'. Wilbur's no longer a runt, nope, he is now 'some pig', because a web tells him so. The people at the fair call Wilbur humble, a concept that was easily placed in their minds by Charlotte. Imagine! Being so easily manipulated by a spider! By a small animal that people bat away in disgust and fear! But spiders do have a quality that many humans lack, patience. And due to a spiders' patience, Charlotte's character found her way into the book.
     E.B. White's choice of the animals he used in the book were very specific to the messages he tried to get through. For example, pigs are recognized (in reality, that is) as pork and bacon, as heads on the slaughter block. This is perfect for Wilbur's situation, the reputation of a pig helps carry the plot along. Spiders are quite creatures; they wait tirelessly by their webs for every meal. Charlotte carefully spins words into her web, she quietly lectures and easily chases away fears. The barn animals themselves are a convenience to the book. I've been to a barn before and even when cows are mooing and chickens are pecking away, the barn is somehow silent and perfectly calm, moving at its own pace. I live in the city. The mornings are filled with cars, the afternoons are filled with cars and the night is filled with cars. All times of day have honking and random hoards and the sounds of clicking heels or briefcases bumping into one another. The days are started by ringing alarm clocks and are ended by listening to traffic roaring by. We're a rushed species. The barn is a prime example of a place where time is slowed. I'm sure that many of the readers felt a pang of jealousy while reading about the countryside and its many pleasures. I'm sure that they looked at Charlotte and perhaps they were hurt by her mocking words or, maybe, they nodded their heads in solemn agreement. Either way, the message got through... slow down... haste makes waste.. stop pacing bridges when you should be building a web.

Charlotte's Web (1

Pg. 24- "I'm really too young to go out into the world alone" (said by Wilbur)  Earlier in the chapter, Wilbur escapes from the barn and is then chased and captured by those who work on the farm.

     In all honesty, no, Wilbur is not 'too young to go out into the world alone'.Whether or not Wilbur is a sophisticated, emotional pig or a mere slab of meat, he is a farm animal. Farm animals are kept for the sole purpose of being useful, horses are ridden, chickens' eggs are fried, pigs are slaughtered for their meat. The only reason why the reader may agree with Wilbur is because they've been successfully won over by the charm of the book. They've been sucked into the talking animals and Fern's heroic act of saving a runt. They've abandoned logic and reason, turning to the reality that book has created for them. This is vital to the the success of the book. If the reader refuses to believe in the characters their emotions, this book becomes a dead piece of child-like fiction. I accidentally took a wrong turn a few dozen pages into the book which lead me to believe that the plot was built upon a situation that never should have come to be. I'm reminded that Fern had disrupted the natural route that Wilbur's life should have taken, the route with an axe and farmer waiting at the end. And this observation, inevitably, made me think that the entire book is rather ludicrous and out of place. But if the reader observes the book through Fern's eyes, the terms that Fern created, the characters, the plot, the concepts, all fall perfectly into place. The structure of the book is delicate enough to crumble all at once if not looked at in the right way.
     From the beginning of the book, Fern treated Wilbur as a child. He was cradled when feed by bottle, he was looked at with loving eyes if he were to fall asleep in a doll carriage. For Wilbur to have been sold off and to live in a manure pile seemed unbearably cruel. For Wilbur to be killed due to his having had been born a runt seemed nearly inhuman. Of course, Wilbur came to be because Fern's father had raised Wilbur's mother to be sold or slaughtered. Wilbur likes his manure pile because he's a pig and pigs like the warmth that piles of manure provide. Actually, by selling Wilbur, Wilbur came to live in an environment better suited for him. As the book carries on, the reader finds out that Fern's uncle, Mr.Zuckerman, plans to kill Wilbur for a Christmas feast, which, like the selling and the manure pile and the near slaughtering of a runt, seems immoral. When, in actuality, it's logical, moral, and the correct thing to do.
    Charlotte's Web is a magnificent example of the way all works of fiction ought to be read. What's particularly special about this book is that is for one second, if one aspect is questioned, a thread is undone and the entire book falls apart nearly instantly. If the reader allows for himself to succumb to the fantasy world of talking animals and the rush to save a pig's life the book will be transformed into a wondrous and, somehow, a somewhat plausible book. But if the reader is stubborn and refuses to hold by Fern's way, then, piece by piece, the book loses its magic and is reduced to the question, ' why did any of this happen in the first place?'. This happened to me. It began with a rather innocent thought, 'why does it seem harsh that Wilbur sleeps in manure?'. This thought lead to the answer, 'because Fern would look down upon a manure pile'. I then thought, 'this entire book is built on Fern's childish standards'. This had a domino effect and I soon found myself thinking that the entire book was somewhat ridiculous and aimed towards and overly-emotional crowd. But, it was this destructive train of thought that helped me realize that the most magnificent of books tend to play by rules of their own, defying all logic and tricking the reader to believe that the world that's been created is superior to their own.