Margaret Puleo Races Through Modern Global Literature as Nefertiti
Contents
Preliminary Overview 2
Einstein's Dreams 4
In Hell With the Two People I Hate the Most 6
Mark Doty 7
The Great Gatsby 9
As Told to Nefertiti 9
Nefertiti Tries The Great GatsbyAgain 11
Nefertitis Dream of Gatsby 14
Nefertiti as Pi 15
Nefertiti in White Noise 16
Reading Rushdie, A Presentation Critique 17
Red Azalea 21
Nefertitis Frustrations, aka Nefertitis Day 23
Ulysses 26
God Dies by the Nile 27
The American Effect 29
Preliminary Overview
This is the real me: Im really excited about hearing Mark Doty read. His
work has opened me to poetry for the first time in many years. I first read
his Heavens Coast about 3 years ago and was astounded by the beauty of
the language. I read Firebird a little later. Since then Ive bought, read
& pored over Atlantis, Sweet Machine, & Source. Im ready for more.
Im still agonizing over my alter ego selection so to start Ill write
out these inconclusive ruminations.
My first choice is Margrethe of Copenhagen; I love her intelligence and directness
(and her name), but maybe she is too much like me, or, more modestly, more like
the person I try to be. Contrariwise, she is just too protective of her husband
for me at this point in my pending divorce.
The professor in White Noise is another possibility (whats his name? Where
did I put that book?), but he seems too naïve (or stupid) to be a good
tour guide through the other books. He could be fun though.
Usama of Wild Thorns is intense, but hes having enough trouble figuring
out his own culture.
Akhenaten is too introverted. Inez of No Exit is just beyond me.
Daisy Buchanan is a good candidate, impressionable, maybe too air-headed.
Again forgetting the name & without the book for reference, the main character
of Cosmopolis could do the job. Prides himself on his astuteness, but maybe
a tad self-centered.
The God Dies By the Nile characters seem so of a piece with their place and
time, difficult to transport, but maybe all the more fascinating for that.
Pi is intriguing because of his open-minded attitude toward religions, his knowledge
of animals and his resourcefulness. He has quite an imagination that
one could embrace all 3 religions attests to that as much as the multiple possible
versions of his story. He would suggest several takes on the same circumstances.
I hear Yann Martel has been accused of plagiarism.
So far I havent gotten very far in Among The Believers; Im not too
keen on Naipaul, quite a stuffy old man, although I did like A House For Mr.
Biswas & Half A Life.
I havent yet gotten a copy of The Children of G
I think Pi may be the winner, stay tuned.
Einstein's Dreams
Alan Lightman
This is mind-bending book, no doubt about that. At first, Nefertiti had no idea
what to make of it. Some of it was familiar to the point of cliché -
if you visit the past, don't change anything, you'll cause possibly personal
deviations in history. Nefertiti has heard that advise in Superman comics and
hokey movies.
But so many other parts were concepts of time difficult for Nefertiti to wrap
her structured little mind around. A place where no one has any memory, has
to learn everything again every day - as the poet mentions, great for one's
sex life. But I think he underestimates how much of our behavior is learned
- not just where we live, but how to walk, how to talk, not just where to buy,
but why. Ah, but the point of the book is to put some of these logical constraints
aside, just go with it. One must be very free indeed to live without memory.
Another world - where time is a sense, and different people perceive time differently
- some faster, some slower, some not at all. Sounds like an acid trip to Nefertiti.
Nefertiti doesn't mean that cynically. Nefertiti thinks the popularity and availability
of mind-altering drugs, specifically consciousness-altering drugs, have contributed
to the cultural and artistic understanding of revolutionary ideas like the theory
of relativity. Nefertiti is not saying a person has to do acid to understand
modern physics. Nefertiti is saying that the drug culture encouraged a (large
part of a) generation to question the basic nature of experience, allowing ideas
like quantum physics to pervade the culture. Just as the individual artist need
not understand advanced particle theory to reflect it in her work, so the individual
couch-potato need not have done acid to accept the media's appropriation of
just-yesterday's avant-garde presentations. Or so Nefertiti theorizes.
Nefertiti loved the speculation about the Nows and the Laters. Nefertiti was
for so long a Later, but presently is a Now. But there is no doubt this change
has been precipitated by intimations of mortality. Otherwise no reason to get
up in the morning, besides things like feed the kids, walk the dog, etc. Kids
and dogs, however, are totally Nows (well, kids until adolescence). Cats I'm
not so sure, all that napping. I have one of each, still (and at my age!) can't
decide whether I'm a cat person or a dog person.
In Hell With the Two People I Hate the Most
My Apologies to Sartre
Hi, its me again, Margaret . In my own life hell is really easy to describe
because I am trying to divorce my husband of 21 years, and he wont leave
the house. A perfect second person would be my father, Daddy, grateful dead
now for only sixteen years. If you cant say something good about the dead
dont say anything. Hes dead. Good.
Each of them always reminding me of what Im not, what I never will be,
of my many faults, of every mistake Ive ever made, blaming me for every
difficult circumstance I find myself in, and expecting me to relieve them of
any responsibilty for anything. Oh, no, it couldnt be his fault. Dragging
me down, not letting me pick my head up, belittling any accomplishment, mocking
every dream, intent on depriving me of anything their jealous minds construe
as worthy of them, not me.
Am I blaming one for the other? Accuse me of that, too, of not knowing whats
making me unhappy, because the problem is obvioiusly my faulty nature, and nothing
either of them did or said. No, when Im perfect, then I can say something
to one of them, then I can ask one of them for help, maybe if the sex were hotter
hed do some housework.
Could I make a hell for each of them? Daddys bitter disappointment can
be his hell, his disappointment in me. And for John? No sex is a good start.
Mark Doty
I couldn't believe my luck! Mark Doty was the poet we were hearing at the creative
writing presentations. I have loved his work since I was first introduced to
it about three years ago.
I came across his memoir 'Heaven's Coast' in the financial district's late great
$2 bookstore. At first I was horrified - how could somebody write a book about
his partner's slow death from AIDS? Who would want to read such a thing? But
fortunately my morbid fascination got the better of me, and I was amazed that
he could tell such a grievous story so beautifully. His wide-eyed experiences
of the AIDS epidemic, not just with his lover but with the larger gay community,
spared no detail of the physical, emotional or spiritual devastation. And how
did he go on, during and after? The going on, the struggle to bear up under
it all, gave the book its (to me) most universal elements. And the language,
so descriptive and original, so imaginative, so thoughtful, so intelligent.
When the $2 bookstore had 'Firebird' I grabbed it right away. That book is about
'growing up gay in baby-boom America'. I felt like a freak growing up at the
same time myself (and then came the sixties and suddenly everybody wanted to
be a freak), and I know it didnt take a lot of deviation to be an outsider
then. Amazingly, some of the locales he described are places I know pretty well
myself - I was in Tucson Arizona at about the same time, and later Provinencetown
Massachusetts and Greenwich Village. The geography mere coincidence, of course,
but it reinforced my feeling of direct ties to this person.
I hadn't read poetry for years, but I made my way over to the poetry section
and tried 'Sweet Machine'. I was hooked. He sees every detail, and thinks about
everything he sees. He is first a poet of surfaces, of appearances, of presentation
- and goes from there. With Mark, it starts with the concrete, the visual, and
goes to wonder.
About his poetry, I would have to say the Mark is an 'easy' poet to read - many
of his poems tell stories - the first reading offers up a satisfying experience
- the rhythm and cadence of his language - his clarity of ideas - his telling
descriptions - but he does reward frequent visits as well, as layers of subtlety
waft up from those shimmering lines. One of his lines I love: the 'unconditioned
hair of graves' - taking the well-known line from Whitman - 'uncut hair of graves'
- and spinning it up that unexpected modern toiletry - with so-personal overtones
- unconditioned as 'not used to', unconditioned as 'unconditional'
His writing about painting seems a perfect fit. His fascination with light and
the effects of light on perception dovetails with the oil painting techniques
of the Dutch still-life masters, and many other traditions of Western painting.
'Still Life With Oysters and Lemon' is a quick course in art appreciation and
the story of an extremely personal relationship with memory and beauty.
Hearing him read and having a chance to talk with him was a real treat. His
appreciation of the Elizabeth Bishop piece was interesting, but I really enjoyed
hearing his own newer works - the piece about the near-disasterous plane trip
was phrased so memorably.
The Great Gatsby
As Told to Nefertiti
I believe in the throne only as a means to serve God. In the time of Akhenaten
monotheism was new bold- daring an adventure of mind and spirit.
Today that road is clogged with the small of mind, those who would only go back,
back to a time they themselves never knew, back to a time impossible in its
simplicity, denying all change and growth. Those of us who would dwell in the
truth must always be seeking it, looking forward for the light, not back on
the imaginings of our forebearers. What they had in the past did not save them.
We must look for the truth in the future, in the hope of what we can make. We
must be prepared to resist the forces of evil that would freeze over our hearts,
that would blind us to what is real around us.
We must do the right thing. We must try to make the best decisions we can with
everything at our disposal our knowledge, our intuition, our love. If
we decide wrongly we will live with the consequences of our mistakes.
Gatsby erred. He believed too much in the past. He tried to live forever in
the moment he was first awed by money and the beauty it can buy. He thought
he could recapture that feeling. He loved what had been and he ruthlessly
tried to recapture that. He thought that what he is in the present could rewrite
the past, could erase the hurt of youthful inconsequence and insignificance.
But our present is here, and we cannot deny the past that has brought us here.
Neither can we undo it. We can only go on, persevering in ourselves learning
from our past but not regretting it. Because it has brought us here. And from
here we go forward toward the light of truth.
Gatsbys pursuit of money and a love that is past cannot remake him. His
idolization of the careless rich leads him to early ruin. The frivolity of those
rich is not his truth.
And what is the truth for Daisy and Tom? Flitting here and there, unhappy with
everything they pursue, holding themselves aloof, withdrawing from the scene
of emotional involvement? Tom is unhappy with Daisy, unhappy with Myrtle, and
unhappy at Gatsbys party, always scrowling. The narrator mentions that
Tom is still looking after his old glory days on the college football field.
Daisy gushes over Tom, over Carraway, over her daughter, over Gatsby
but seems to make no real commitment to anybody. Jordan lies and poses. Various
partygoers gossip vacuously.
Where is the truth here? No one seems to care at all. Whatever are these people
looking for? Are they looking for anything in their unhappy lives? What is life
for if not pursuit of the truth?
These lives are empty, glittering but empty, with no one to show the way. These
people believe in love only as a means to worship money. They fall in love with
money and the trappings of money the magnificent homes with their gardens
and chandeliers the extravagance of clothes and ornaments the
glitter and howl of festivities and galas the drunken revelries
the ponies and the yachts the dinners and the fast cars and the
spoiled people at the center of it all.
I was blessed in my partner Akhenaten. Power was his, unsought. Love and glory
came to me through him. I look forward to our reunion in the afterlife.
Nefertiti Tries The Great GatsbyAgain
The next celebrity to arrive was Nefertiti. She came in a golden Rolls Royce
surrounded by elegantly uniformed bodyguards on motorcycles and in intimidating
black limousines. The chauffeurs assistant a huge man in a dark
suit, sunglasses and a crewcut opened the car door for her while two
smaller versions of himself unrolled a multicolored carpet of Persian motif.
First one dainty foot showed itself, then the other. And there she was
tall, so slim, her white dress just glimmering, her face aglow, her hair a halo
of dark curls. Her skin was the warm color of honey, her limbs were long and
oh so graceful.
The crowd paused, the hardy partying arrested for a moment by this haughty presence.
She regarded the group silently, gazing slowly over the gathering from sophisticated
heights, looking amused but not smiling. Then she bowed her head and the two
biggest bodyguards ushered her along the carpet into the house.
On the lawn, the party resumed. Gatsby was waiting in the main room of his mansion.
My honored guest, you have come at last!. He was wearing a white
flannel suit beautiful ! but he felt awkward before her. Even
without the high heels she would tower above him.
I hope youll enjoy the entertainments we have planned for tonight.
He was struggling to regain his composure. Finally she extended a warm tanned
hand, the slim arm curving artily, the golden bracelets shifting, sparkling
in the party lights. She smiled sweetly. Im sure it will be interesting.
Ive been looking forward to seeing for myself on of these gossip-column
parties of yours.
Let me introduce you to some of my guests.
Yes, I would like to get to know some of your friends.
Friends would be stretching it.
So why are they here if theyre not your friends?
Oh, they just come for the party
And you give the parties because
?
Because theyll come
Oh?
And youll come. You did come. Here you are. You came to see
Yes, here I am. Ive come to see what its all about, what the
big attraction is
Oh, everyone loves to dance, to drink, to eat good food, to hear the latest
music and the popular entertainers, to see others make fools of themselves
Is that the big attraction, the fools?
Well, the wise seem to stay away
And why is that?
But youve come tonight, and you are certainly wise. Come and meet
some people
On to the pursuit of fun
Nefertiti took Gatsbys arm and he swelled with pride as they walked out
of the house and made their re-entrance into the party on the lawn. This was
why he had these parties, to be seen with a woman like Nefertiti on his arm.
If the parties what she liked well, no more parties. He watched carefully
the signs of ennui and worse! disgust.
She had only a little wine and found little to engage her mind once she had
browsed the happenings. Its good for the people to relax and enjoy
themselves, but I tire quickly of this overindulgence
Thats what parties are about! Thats what theyre for!
And you what are you about what are you for?
I am for the love of you, my dear Nefertiti. So long I have worshipped
you from afar!
But you dont know me. You have in your mind only a shadow of the
image of who I am a fleeting acquaintance from another time and place.
Gatsby, Im not the person you remember, if you ever knew me. Im
grown and changed
No, I love you as you were you were perfect and you loved me
'And Ive gone on from there. That was good then. But that was then. This
is now. I cant be with a man who has so strong an idea of me it
would shackle me
You didnt like the party
It was lovely, my dear. Goodbye.
Nefertitis Dream of Gatsby
I am wearing a full, softly pink dress and I am dancing at Gatsbys party.
I whirl, I leap, the dress floats around me, everyone is watching. I raise my
arms, my body moves cloudlike, I glide and swoop. The men sigh, the women gape,
all adore me. I start to sing, sing of the glory of music and dance, trill a
senuous air of longing and beckoning. All who see me want me.
I take a partner, the boldest looking man from the crowd, a dark complexion
and haughty poise to complement my own. Together we move to the music, now loud
and fast. He leads handsomely at first. When he stumbles I allow a tall blond
fellow to step in. His moves are smooth and strong, graceful and poserful. We
linger in slow embrace.
Then I am with another, a dominating muscular body, a quick step, a sure pace,
a sudden dip Catch me! Yes! Sliding with the music, singing harmony as
one, one voice, one dance.
On to the next, lean and taut, hard and commanding, angular and unbowed.
Then alone with one, soft and giving, playful, affectionate. We hum a sweet
tune. Encore!
Back to the crowd on the dance floor. Another partner who can keep my
pace? Another song who can sing with me? So high, so fine, so many, so
various, so so.
Dream on.
Nefertiti as Pi
Alone on the boat with my tiger, I will not be daunted. I will face this beast,
and he will know who is the master. He will not betray me. I know what he needs,
and only I can satisfy him. I know his mind, and he can never know mine. The
strong will be triumphant, the strong of will.
Dispair may haunt us but we will never be bowed, we will never succumb. My tiger
and I will live as one and reign together over the chaos of the seas. The seas
taunt and terrorize us, but we perservere through the adversity. I know my way
and my tiger knows me. What is true will emerge glorious from these trials,
we will not be forsaken.
We have the truth and the power the truth of God and the power of all
religion. Our faith will be rewarded and we have faith in God and religion.
God reveals his law for the tiger and the tiger obeys Gods law. God is
one for the tiger. And God is one for me. As the tiger obeys God and the law
of God, so he also obeys my submission to God and Gods law. And so he
obeys me.
Nefertiti in White Noise
Page 119
It was a fire captains car with a loudspeaker and it was going pretty
fast I said, In other words you didnt have and opportunity
to notice the subtle edges of intonation.
The voice was screaming out.
Nefertiti says, Let us consider the truth in this. Will this information
bring us closer to the light? Is the fire captain the divine one? Does he have
a nice ass? He had a fast car, well, thats a good start. Sounds like a
man with power and money. So when he commanded, did people go? Did he sound
authoritative? I like a man people will listen to and, you know, obey.
Page 194
Then he entered you.
Dont use that term.
He effected what is called entry. In other words, he inserted himself.
Nefertiti says, Oh so clinical! So remote! No great attraction here, no
passion. Arguing about word usage the linguistic style of it all
when youre discovering this incredible truth about your life - just being
annoying about the choice of words! How wimpy! What ever could you see in this
man!
Page 195
Theres some jello with banana slices.
Nefertiti says, Yes, thank you.
Reading Rushdie, A Presentation Critique
I was not satisfied with my Rushdie presentation. The main problem was that
I got too hung up in the details, too much into insignificant background material,
so that I missed the major points I originally wanted to make.
Lets try again:
The Satanic Verses raises issues in Islam concerning the revelation
of the Quran. In Sura 53, the book says:
Have you considered al-Lat and al-Uzza and Manat, the third, the other? They
are naught but names yourselves have named, and your fathers. God has given
them no authority.
In Arabic tradition at the time of the Prophet, al-Lat and al-Uzza and Manat
were important goddesses, revered as the daughters of Allah. Some early histories
repeat a different, earlier version of these lines:
Have you considered al-Lat and al-Uzza and Manat, the third, the other? These
are the exalted birds whose intercession is approved.
Traditionally, these lines are called the Satanic verses, repudiated by Muhammad
as sent to him by Satan and later corrected by God through Gabriel. The difference
is significant because this version compromises the monotheism integral to Islam.
Islamic monotheism is radical, that is, it abides no other worship. In Christian
tradition, Jesus is worshipped as a person of God, but to the Muslim, this is
heresy. There are no Muslim saints in the Christian sense, persons who can be
addressed in prayer and who will take spiritual responsibility for the faithful.
Islam forbids any representations of God or the Prophet no drawing, no
statues, no painting because of the danger that these could lead to idolatry.
This has been extended to forbid representation of people or even animals, and
led to the elaboration of Middle Eastern art and architecture in geometric and
floral designs.
So were these lines just politically expedient for Muhammad? Denying the importance
of the goddesses was a direct affront to the political as well as the religious
status quo of Mecca, where the leading clans maintained major temples to them.
This is what Rushdie is suggesting; throughout the book his characters argue
that possibility, not only about these lines but about the Quran itself. Not
only is Rushdies telling profane, as highlighted in the selection Evergreen
read in class, it actively doubts the basis of Islam. Rushdies book is
very much about doubt, the antithesis of faith. In telling the story of Hagar
in the desert, From the beginning men used God to justify the unjustifiable
(page 97 of the edition I have). Rushdie plays with this throughout, making
Salman Muhammads amanuensis and having him alter the sacred text, Your
blasphemy, Salman, cant be forgiven. Did you think I wouldnt work
it out? To set your word against the Words of God? (page 387).
The Quran has an even higher status in Islam than the Bible does in the Judeo-Christian
religions. It is regarded as the direct word of God, unmediated. It is eternal,
existing before time exactly as recited by Muhammad, in Arabic. It is Allah
addressing man, giving his plan for humankind. The angel Gabriel spoke the book
through Muhammad, Muhammad did not write it or interrupt it.
More on the subject of names: Ayesha, the name of the prophets favorite
wife, used for the butterfly girl who claims inspiration from the archangel
(who denies this & points to al-Lat, Al-Lat, Gibreel understands,
bursting out of Ayeshas shell (page 221)), also used as the name
of the Imams arch enemy. And Alleluia Cone, the mountain climber, sharing
her name with the name of Muhammads mountain. But beware of reading too
much into the names, names, once they are in common use, quickly become
mere sounds, their etymology being buried (page 224).
I loved the portrayal of the Imam as the enemy of time History is a deviation
from the path, knowledge a delusion, because the sum of knowledge was complete
on the day Al-Lah finished his revelation to Mahound (page 217). I saw
in my research that the concept of ijtihad independent judgement
is a recurring issue in Islam. Closing the gates of ijtihad i.e.,
deeming that everything necessary to know is known, versus the possibility of
new truths causes major theological division among Muslim sects (Sunni, Shii,
Sufi, and so on).
A few other things I loved about this book: on-its-ear biblical commentary:
the garden had been a better place before he knew its names (page
45); exploration of what it means to be Indian: entire national culture
based on the principle of borrowing whatever clothes seemed to fit, Aryan, Mughal,
British..The Only Good Indian, meaning, is a dead
were all bad Indians
(p. 52); the main characters being actors, the one playing at all religions
(shades of Pi), the other faceless, a thousand voices only; references to some
of the themes weve been visiting this semester: In this century
history stopped paying attention to the old psychological orientation of reality
(p. 447), laws of space and time had ceased to operate (p. 207).
We talked in class about the many literary references throughout the book, from
Shakespeare, Brecht, Nabakov, et al. And the language, the swoops and dips of
Indian-English cadences, the humor of unexpected change in tone.
And I love that I see hints throughout the book that the narrator is the inspiration
of the original Satanic verses themselves, Satan. The lines I read in class
You think they fell a long way? In the matter of tumbles, I yield place
of pride to no personage (page 137).
Thanks for listening.
Red Azalea
This book is the memoir of a young womans experiences during Communist
Chinas cultural revolution. Nefertiti reads this as a marvel of state
intrusiveness into the daily life of the individual and rigid control of every
aspect of thought and behavior.
The story that moved Nefertiti the most was the denunciation of the beloved
teacher who had excited Anchee Min by introducing her to literature and sharing
some foreign books with her. The authorities coerced Min, then a child, into
testifying against the teacher by arguing with her until she was worn down,
convinced that they were right and she was wrong. It hurt her so to have to
speak publicly against the teacher.
Parts of the book were difficult to read because of the suffering of the people
involved. The description of Mins childhood, the long hours her parents
were away working leaving her to care for younger siblings at such a young age,
was a brutality in itself. Nefertiti knows that this is a side effect of poverty
in an industrial society, not limited to communist states. Other atrocities
are more difficult to classify as economic, cultural, or ideological. The intense
sexual repression, for example, could be cultural or ideological, and is more
likely a combination, cultural biases being enflamed in service to the purposes
of the state.
The treatment of intellectuals, meaning anyone with an education, is a major
horror. Mins parents were treated so badly specifically because they had
education and skills. The political climate encouraged the masses to abuse anyone
they were jealous of. So Mins parents worked at hard labor, and her family
lost its home.
Another striking characteristic of Chinese culture described in Red Azalea is
the pervasiveness of the political propaganda, and the limited in fact,
completely unavailable - access to diversity of cultural experience. Again,
this could be attributed in part to the economic developmental stage of the
country, but certainly it is manipulated by the state.
Nefertiti has read other memoirs of the cultural revolution (eg, Wild
Swans by Jung Chang), and feels that this book, while vivid on some topics,
misses some of the larger tragedies of that movement. Mao encouraged
enjoined the destruction of Chinas rich and ancient culture, on
the grounds that the culture had grown at the expense of the masses. Libraries,
artwork, monuments, buildings were destroyed, the same way the Taliban destroyed
cultural artifacts in Afghanistan. The universities were closed, in some cases
for years. The intellectual elite were sent into hard labor, from which many
never recovered. There is no denying that huge inequitites had shaped the development
of Chinese culture, but will Chinese society and posterity benefit from such
destruction? That is hard for Nefertiti to believe.
Nefertitis Frustrations, aka Nefertitis Day
Nefertiti is not having a good day.
Things are not going well this week at all for Nefertiti! Work, school, family,
marriage, divorce, kids, love life, money nothing is going well for Nefertiti!
Nefertitis software is throwing errors hither and yon, and Nefertiti was
up half the night trying to debug, and Nefertiti has run out of ideas here
it should have worked Nefertiti didnt change anything these
programs worked last week what happened?! Nefertiti has to figure it
out. Nefertiti wrote this software and everyones watching, waiting for
Nefertiti to fix it. Fix it, Nefertiti, fix it!
And Nefertiti is very worried about her job. On Monday the big bosses sent an
email about outsourcing, what a really great solution it is for the bank, it
would be perfect for Nefertitis department!! Will Nefertiti have a job?
For how long? Will Nefertitis job be outsourced to India? Will Nefertitis
job be outsourced to IBM? Will IBM continue Nefertitis job benefits like
tuition reimbursement? Will the bank eliminate the platforms where Nefertiti
has expertise? Will Nefertiti get a real severance package, or only two weeks
notice?
And school how many journals can Nefertiti keep in one semester? Will
Nefertiti complete those term-end projects? Will the bank pay for the fall semester?
What if Nefertiti registers and then the bank doesnt reimburse? Should
Nefertiti switch her major from Literature to Creative Writing? Ah, this is
a luxury question, delightful with possibilities!
And family! Nefertitis fourteen-year-old daughter has taken to going all
over the city with friends, not even calling Nefertiti, although Nefertiti has
provided her with a cell phone, whats that about? Should Nefertiti be
worried? I think so!
And more family! Aunt Julie just had cancer surgery. Is she dying from the same
disease that killed Nefertitis mother? Nefertiti has to visit every weekend.
Now that Aunt Julie is sick, who will take care of eighty-nine year old Aunt
Alice? Nefertiti does not feel good.
And marriage! Ohmygod dont get Nefertiti started! Godamned divorce is
dragging out, freeloading dickhead will not move out, insists hes entitled
to be supported, expects large amounts of money as a settlement, wont
agree to anything can Nefertiti afford to continue divorce proceedings?
What if shes laid off? Nefertiti has vivid fantasies starring a speeding
garbage truck, and the dinkleberry of a husband steps into the street and
its so very messy!
Kids, too! Boy Wonder does nothing except sit at his computer apparently hoping
to evolve into a brain in a jar to be used exclusively for browsing the Internet.
Nefertitis daughter threw a major fit because Nefertiti would only pay
$20 for a half hours chores, and the princess wanted $40 to go to the
mall.
And Nefertitis best friend at work cant resist blaming the Indian
guys for our job situation and is spewing all kinds of racist shit. Get away
from me.
And the only candidate for a boyfriend is looking too much like soon-to-be-ex-husband,
so thats the end of that! Another godamned little prince, I dont
think so!
Contrary to popular opinion, Nefertiti has never had a lot of luck with guys,
and now that shes old and fat and losing her job and has two disrespectful
teenagers, why the potential suitors will be lining up! The line will be long
and distinguished!
And Nefertiti ran out for a late lunch, but forgot to go to the bank, so there
she was at the cash register with her crummy sandwich and no money! One good
note, deli takes plastic and apparently Nefertiti is not over her limit credit
yet!
Stay tuned!
Ulysses
James Joyce
This is the first time Nefertiti has attempted 'Ulysses', and she is very glad
to be doing it in an academic setting with direction from an experienced literature-type
person. This is why Nefertiti came back to school, to learn how to approach
works like this and appreciate them, recognizing that this is acknowledged as
seminal in twentieth century literature, but feeling so baffled. Having the
overstructured mentality that she does (hey, Nefertiti has been a computer programmer
for almost twenty-five years), Nefertiti totally appreciates a leg up on this
nonlinear stuff. Nefertiti personally has attempted other Joyce, namely 'Finnegan's
Wake', solo, to depressing effect.
The movie was a good intro, at least Nefertiti can see now what the action line
(plot?) of the book is. It's really hard to see in this book what's happening
inside someone's head here vs. whats happening out on the street. Also
a big Yes! to the discussion in class and the handouts on the parallels to Homer.
And - this is so important to Nefertiti - the outlines of how appreciate the
nonlinear world are emerging through this experience.
Nefertiti has gotten only about 150 pages (20%) into the book itself, but is
very motivated to go on. Nefertiti is a person who can't just read this on her
own.
Thank you.
God Dies by the Nile
This book describes the subsistence life of peasants in twentieth-century Egypt,
oppressed by poverty and politics, enslaved by ignorance, manipulated by religion
and fear. The people of the village are victims of the greed and jealousy of
their leaders, their anger co-opted into superstition. The powerless are exhorted
to punish the weaker women, the fatherless child, the solitary unbeliever.
Nefertiti is horrified by the cruel tyranny of the inhumane Mayor, but recognizes
the basic outline of power struggle that goes on everywhere.
The Mayor himself is alone he has no friends he hates his cronies,
the three men who think theyre his friends, who do his bidding and exercise
his power Sheikh Zahran the Chief of the village Guard, Sheikh Hamzawi
the Sheikh of the mosque, and Haj Ismail the village barber. These men are held
close to the Mayor by their own fear of losing his favor. Any one of them can
be isolated and cast aside at the Mayors whim. And the mayor does cast
Sheikh Hamzawi out when it is to his political advantage. When misfortunes strike
the village, when the worm eats the crops in the field, the Mayor dispossesses
Sheikh Hamzawi to appease those who fear their prayers might not be favorably
received by God since the man who leads them has sheltered a child born of sin
and fornication. By the time a fire destroys some houses and a child is
killed, the peasants have been reinforced in their belief that the child is
to blame, leading to the stoning death of the child and the kind-hearted Fatheya.
In the same way, the police prey on the powerless of the peasants by exhorting
the men to exercise power over their women, Do you mean that in your household
its the girl who decides
women are only convinced it they receive
a good hiding.
When Zakeya is driven to distraction by the misfortunes of her family, she and
Zeinab are cynically manipulated by Haj Ismail (no doubt in cahoots with the
Sheikh at the mosque of Sayeda Zeinab) to deliver Zeinab to the Mayor.
The brutal maneuvering to get Kafrawi and later Galal out of the way so the
Mayor can get to Zeinab is classic totalitarian politics. Elwau dies so Kafrawi
can be framed for murder, supposedly to avenge the dishonor of his family. It
doesnt matter that the villagers know Kafrawi would not do such a thing.
The supposed beliefs of the villagers are enough justification for the powerful
in town. Galal too is framed by the police, this time for theft. The more upright
and independent a man is, the bigger threat he is to the powerful, and therefore
the more likely to be singled out for elimination.
Nefertiti sees here no disrespect of God by Nawal El Saadawi, but a scathing
indictment of the political system of modern Egypt. The God who is villified
in this book is the government in the person of the Mayor. Surely this is what
is so threatening to merit official censorship. Allah is beside the point here
no one believes. Sheikh Hamzawi was using his Friday sermons to praise
the Mayor, yet he tells his wife You do not know the Mayor
Hes
a dangerous man, and fears no one, not even Allah...We cannot go on about our
lives if we are in disfavor with him.
The American Effect
Nefertiti and the princess went to The Whitney to see the American Effect show.
Some of the exhibits were really cool! Nefertitis very favorite was the
painting of Rudolph Guiliani as a glorious hero of socialist realism, supported
by two balls of elephant dung. There were a few eye-catchers in that first room,
the room of heroes. The Nursing Home of superheroes was a clever
piece, America as aging-out superpower.
Another fascinating work was the Japanese screen of infinity bombing New York.
Glad to know that one was done before 9/11 - watershed/bloodshed event.
Nefertiti didnt take notes, what else was really memorable? The video
of artifice, the porn stars walking around in lush gardens, but that one didnt
work. First, too much about it had to be explained to have any significance,
you would never know that those people were porn stars or that the garden was
professionally designed and heavily irrigated. Second, as a gardener Nefertiti
knows that all gardens are artifice, maintaining any garden is a struggle against
nature as much as a partnership with it. The bugs, the mildews and fungi and
slugs and other assorted pests, the droughts, the heavy rains that mock drainage
and prevent pollination, and the weeds, the weeds, the weeds are just a few
of the natures conspirators against ones flowers and vegetables.
But that was just one piece in the show.
It was good to have a knowledgable guide to highlight aspects of the works,
it enlarged Nefertitis experience, making it more interesting.
Some of the other pieces surprised Nefertiti with their optimism and positive
view of America. But thats curators choice, samples of world opinion,
not necessarily proportional to opinion percentages. The diorama of next-millennium
New York was quite upbeat.
Photos of Germans pretending to be Native Americans were provoking - the Westerns
of our childhood are so politically incorrect now. Nefertiti is aware of new-age
interest in Native American culture, but the dress-up is still visually disconcerting,
those so-white folks in full feathered regalia.
A second piece commenting on the Western experience was striking for other reasons.
The intense physicality of the sculptures - the size - the muscularity in motion
- the harshness - graphically communicated the brutality of the frontier. That
was a strong ending for the show.