Roy Cohn

Tony Kushner has developed all these characters with extreme wit and charm. It's like, even when you hate them, you still kind of love them. Case and point, Roy Cohn. He, in the play, admits and even revels in being responsible for the murder of an innocent woman. Well, he doesn't exactly call her innocent, more like quasi-innocent. At least, not worthy of execution. He's just nasty! He's a mean person. But, I still kind of like him.
When Belize talks to him, he finds himself in the same predicament. Belize hates everything fundamental and essential to Roy. But Belize still entertains him. Roy calls Belize every rotten name he can think of, yet Belize remains. Maybe Belize justifies his actions with using Roy for what he's worth; the drugs. But, I don't think this fully encompasses Roy's appeal.
Why would Kushner present Roy this way?
Is it because that's how Kushner writes? Does he not want such a heartless villain in this type of play? What genre is this, anyway? It has got to at least be partially a comedy. A comedy/drama, I suppose. So, why can't Roy be a clear villain?
I guess, in life, things aren't ever that clear. Kushner is dedicated to portraying the chaotic and foggy nature of life. Many scenes border on hallucinogenic. I say border because none of the characters will outright admit to hallucinating.
So, maybe, in this sense, an outright villain wouldn't fit in Angels in America. Or maybe Kushner assumes that such a quick and effective lawyer would inherently come along with quick wit.
Maybe I also have an inclination towards Roy because in the movie he was portrayed by Al Pacino. Al Pacino seems to always play a charismatic bad guy. (Take a good look at da bad guy! I always tell the truth, even when I'm lyin'!) But I like his characters.
Or maybe... there's no such thing as a "villain." Maybe everyone can be explained and empathized with.
But I don't really think that. I bet I would hate Roy Cohn if I actually knew him.

Harper

I kind of love the character Harper. When Joe describes her he says, "I loved it that she was always wrong, always doing something wrong, like one step out of step" (59). I don't think Harper's "wrong," but I like the description of "one step out of step." She seems very "right" in her character. She refuses to deny the truth, even if it means completely disregarding her current life and starting over. This is incredibly strong. The "man in the bedroom" whose existence she insists on is the invisible, yet menacing truth. It's hard to suppress this villain, but even harder to entirely confront it. Harper was a Mormon born and raised in Salt Lake City, Utah. Can you imagine being anymore absorbed in this lifestyle? Yet, Harper dares to confront its flaws. Also, she's entirely isolated in Brooklyn with Joe. Still, she refuses to entirely rely on him for happiness. Joe thinks that she needs him, but this may just be a tactic to avoid his own homosexuality. He insists that the legitimacy of this accusation is irrelevant, since he won't leave her. She says, "Well maybe not. But I'm going to leave you" (56).
Being a Mormon married to Joe was Harper's entire life. How's that workin' for ya? She realizes how unhappy she is, confronts it, and is willing to change it. How many people do the same? I've heard so many people say something like, "I know how bad this sounds but..."
No but! If something sounds bad when you're explaining it to someone, that means you KNOW it's bad for you. The "but" you're going to do it or continue it anyway... means you're too weak to stop. I.e. "I know it sounds bad that I drink five times a week but it makes me happy." It does not make you happy! If Harper said "I know it sounds bad that my husband is gay, but I'm staying with him because it makes me happy," would you believe her as a reader? Does she seem happy to you?
I really admire that Harper refuses to settle. In the long run, as I've tried to explain many-a-time, your life will be easier even if you have to make drastic changes. Happy is the easiest way to live, right?
Oh, but to finish what I started; I like the description "one step out of step." Though Harper seems right in her actions, she goes about them in a funny way. She's tragically humorous. I loved the conversation about burning dinner - "It just seemed like the kind of thing a mentally deranged sex-starved pill-popping housewife would do" (42). She confronted the matter, all right, but what a funny way to do it.
Though she is unhappy, she is not miserable. She found comfort in the truth, and could even joke about her predicament. And does she not get some of the best lines in the play?
"A baby born addicted to pills. A baby who does not dream but who hallucinates, who stares up at us with big mirror eyes and who does not know who we are" (47).
Wow. She sure did get her point across.

Choosing to be Sheep: In Literature and Life

I find Fight Club to be an ideological abyss. In real life, does anyone choose to be a sheep?

I don't think so. Maybe someone will decide to assimilate in order to be "good" or for the "common good." At an extreme level, and most closely related to the characters in Fight Club, a suicide bomber decides to assimilate with a various terrorist group. This could be to either satisfy their own desire to be a "good human" as defined by their interpretation of religion, or to satisfy the needs of their movement. I don't think, however, these people are decidedly becoming followers. I think these people see themselves as "hated by the world" of man, and they'll be loved in the afterlife by their god. I don't know if that's something necessarily found in whatever interpretation of Islam that leads to terrorism... I was vaguely paraphrasing an idea that's repetitive in the Old and New Testament. Essentially, being religious is following a crowd. I've met very few people (there are always exceptions) that say they're religious and have actually read and studied the entirety of their religious texts. So, they rely on someone else to interpret it for them. Even if one has read the entirety of a religious text, it's still an INTERPRETATION. Even if you're part of a brand new religion, and you've talked directly to the creator, you're still following that person. Unless you've created your own religion, you're a "sheep!"
If we choose to be religious, are we CHOOSING to be a sheep?
I don't think so. I really think that we're choosing to be "good." And sometimes it's easier to let someone else define such a broad and seemingly subjective term. I don't many people that could define what's right or wrong in the grand scheme of things without in one way or another quoting someone else's idea. Human rights, anyone? You'll probably think of what's "right" for humans in America. Or the ten commandments.
This is enough for most. Hmmm... Karl Marx, is this what you meant by, "Religion is the opiate of the masses?" I find myself constantly quoting this. It's really not intended to be offensive, as I hope I've explained. It's just, who can really say that they know the true meaning of good and evil, entirely on their own? Without any form of government to dictate this to them?

You can't choose to be a sheep, just like you can't choose to organize chaos. It's all an oxymoron. The characters in Fight Club didn't know how to be productive in society, so they let someone tell them how to be destructive. They felt like they had really accomplished something, right?
That's lame! If you can't figure out how to accomplish one thing, resorting to the opposite is such a cop out. Extremely emotional and juvenile and weak! I always think it's hilarious when someone goes from one extreme to the next. Like... Anne Rice was all about morbity and vampires and gothicism. Now she's a born-again Christian. Also, many criminals become devout. I guess when you don't practice anything in moderation, you eventually can no longer justify your decisions and lifestyle. Instead of being rational and truly considering what is good and what is right, you completely change to the opposite extreme!
The narrator of Fight Club found himself entirely devoted to consumerism and success in his established society. He failed. So he decided to be the polar opposite. Why didn't he just get down on the ground and flail himself around, screaming at the top of his lungs like a toddler? If one thing isn't working out, fix it. Find balance in your life. What is ever worth a life, either your own or another's?
Or many others' lives, in the case of a terrorist? What can ever justify taking these lives? Extremism. It's just unacceptable.

It takes a truly GOOD person to rethink entirely what being good means. If we accept human rights as being those that are currently permitted in this arbitrary time and place, couldn't we largely be missing a mark? That's what BEING a sheep is. Though, I don't think anyone would CHOOSE to be ignorant, weak, and make awful choices. We all want to be good in one way or another, right? (I think a few ancient Greek philosophers may have spilled a lot of ink to prove this point.) Yet, simply wanting to be good does not make you a good person. We are all responsible for ourselves, even if that means we're responsible to educate ourselves on right and wrong. I feel confident when I say I could never be brainwashed. I could never really be a sheep. I could never commit evil while chasing a false morality. I think most people would say the same. I think the people in Fight Club would justify their actions with some nihilist claim to the nonexistence of evil. But, aren't they all just really angry boys with no fathers to guide them?
Guide yourself.

Literary Comparison

From the moment I picked up Leslie Marmon Silko's Ceremony, until I finished it, I noticed a pleasant similarity to Kurt Vonnegut's Slaughterhouse-Five. I thought this was an interesting parallel to explore. I read Slaughterhouse-Five in high school, and at the time, I found it to be very confusing. The main cause of my confusion was also present in Ceremony: time-travel. The main character in Vonnegut's novel, Billy Pilgrim, literally travels through time throughout the story. The time-travel in Ceremony may not be as literal. Tayo explains, "distances and days existed in themselves... They were not barriers" (19). It was this kind of limitless existence which allowed Josiah to be in the jungle when Tayo believed he had killed him. The time-travel in both novels is accentuated by the intermittent and non-linear disclosing of the plot. I suppose, for some, this adds a "punch" to the themes presented in the fragments. However, as stated, I found myself confused. Tayo explains his escape from the chains of time by framing it as a tribal belief. Vonnegut frames the ability to move throughout time as a knowledge received from aliens. Both authors see time as a perception that an ultimate wisdom can conquer.
Both Slaughterhouse-Five and Ceremony took place during Vietnam; written in 1969 and 1977, respectively. The war itself was responsible for many existential crises. Tayo and Billy Pilgrim both seem to consider the war undeserving of the lives it cost. For Tayo, the war was unworthy of the assimilation required to become a soldier. For Billy, the war similarly limited his free will. Yet, in both novels, war was not the main focus. Billy found restrictions of free will beyond his time in the army. Tayo battled the urge to assimilate after being a soldier. The war, though real, still served a metaphor for the extreme struggles present in wartime and everyday life. Tayo learned that trying to convince anyone of his authenticity as a Laguna was a futile battle. In the same respect, he learned that outsiders or white people would never attempt to understand the Laguna people. Tayo would find that his only true free will was to mold his own understandings and knowledge of his identity. Billy Pilgrim also found great opposition from those surrounding him. A senior man that believes in time-travel is received as senile, just as an Indian with faith in rituals is received as "supersitious."
Another similarity I found was in the uncensored, grotesque revelry of bodily functions. Unfortunately, I don't have a copy of Slaughterhouse-Five, and my memory is failing me. However, I do remember multiple imprudent, unforgiving descriptions of diarhhea in army latrines. The description was brash and seemingly juvenile. In Ceremony, there were many depictions of vomiting. I do remember that my high school teacher supplied some sort of explanation for the seemingly exorbitant passages. Apparently, I didn't find his explanation to be reasonable, and discarded it somewhere in my memory. Similarly, I don't see a plausible necessity for Tayo's never-ending upchuck. Are these uncontrollable ejections a metaphor for the expulsion of societal burdens? Are they ridding themselves of preconceived guilt? I couldn't help but find these depictions almost humorous, devaluing the gravity of the authors' intentions. Maybe my reading comprehension falls short of the authors' abilities. I just don't know!
Regardless of the intent, I found myself confused by both the authors' styles and metaphors. It's possible that the authors had contrasting intentions. Yet, my ceaseless bewilderment did not discontinue my interest in Ceremony or Slaughterhouse-Five. I found both to be unique depictions in a sea of representations of their subject matter. I am very quickly bored by recounts of both wartime books and echoing narrations of oppressed groups. However, Ceremony and Slaughterhouse-Five both kept my attention. I suppose that my fascination lies in the unknown and unexplained. But I'd still like an explanation! Seriously, what's with the puking?

Hunger

Several characters throughout Truman Capote’s In Cold Blood are consumed by an insatiable hunger for destruction. Most of these characters’ desires spawn from their own pain, yet some hold an organic lust for hurting. Specifically, Perry models an “injured bird,” an angry man yielded from a tormented childhood. However, throughout the book Dick’s appetite for deviant sex, crime and murder seems evidentially organic and inherent to his character. After the Clutter murders, even frightened and shocked onlookers submit to this contagious hunger. Many adopt the philosophy of, “‘an eye for an eye. And even so we’re two pair short!’” (248).

Immediately following the murders, Dick came to know “a hunger that nothing – three successive steaks, a dozen Hershey bars, a pound of gumdrops – seemed to interrupt” (90). Upon reading this, one would wonder why the completion of the intended crime – murder of the Clutters – had not satisfied Dick’s appetite. It is later revealed that Dick’s sole objective was in fact obstructed by Perry. During the trial Dick admits, “I think the main reason I went there was not to rob them but to rape the girl… That is one reason why I never wanted to turn back… Even when I saw there was no safe” (278). Dick’s hunger was stimulated at the thought of this rape, eating a bag of jelly beans at the gas station before the murders (54), and continued until the day of his death, as he was the only man to eat his last supper (334). Many times throughout the book it is shown that Dick had a very normal upbringing, with respectable and hard-working parents. This crime greatly affected the Hickocks. Mrs. Hickock wept at the trial and even lost her appetite, declining a free meal from a local restaurant (287). Just as Dick’s hunger to cause pain was voracious, others’ anguish cost them their appetite for joy.

Perry’s appetite was often absent; he even went on a hunger strike while on death row (318). By nature, Perry was extremely resentful of himself and his ultimate failure. He often begrudged others for his downfall, especially those that affected his childhood. Going into the Clutters’ home, Perry had never intended on killing any of the family. In retrospect, it seems that Perry symbolically killed those that he believed repressed him. He said that his only regret was that “I wish the hell my sister [Barbara] had been in that house” (143). Barbara had sent him a letter demeaning the validity of Perry’s excuses for his behavior. She held him responsible for his actions, and Perry was incapable of admitting such accountability. Perry could not handle such judgement from others. When he arrived to the Meiers’ house, he refused to eat. He admitted that when seeing the crowd in Holcomb, he remembered a scene from a movie “where a man was flung off a balcony, thrown to a mob of men and women, who tore him to pieces,” and feared that this would be his fate. In turn, “it scared him so bad his stomach still hurt” (253).

There are so many quotations about hunger throughout the book that I could have far surpassed the word limit for this assignment. I thought it was really interesting that Capote included this as a recurring theme. I was reminded of F. Scott’s Fitzgerald’s focus on time in The Great Gatsby. I think the two authors have a similar style of writing, though I greatly prefer the latter. If there was a character comparison of the two books, who would be Gatsby? A tragic hero in In Cold Blood? Perry is certainly tragic, and it seems Capote hinted at his heroic tendencies. However, due to the nature of his crimes, I have a hard time seeing his heroism.