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Self Reflection:

As I fight to compose a remediated text I am continually brought back to Sven Birkerts. I referred to Birkerts in nearly all of my writing in this class and thus I feel it is appropriate to conclude with an analysis of his opinions as they contributed to mine. As a lover of literature and as a would be writer I cannot help but sympathize with Birkerts, yet as a realist I cannot help but scoff at his invariable anxiety and fear. Birkerts fears change. He is not alone; it is a common occurrence for humans to shy away from alterations. Birkerts fears the change from the “material totality” that is reading, to the hurried and fragmented aspects of technology.

Mary Shelley portrays a similar fear through her development of the character Viktor Frankenstein. Viktor utilizes and embraces some new-found technology and subsequently creates a hideous being that inspires fear and loathing merely by showing his face. The creature represents a change that could have been embraced but that was instead scorned. Shelley emphasizes the resulting mayhem and by doing so could be condemning small-mindedness rather than creating life through unnatural means.

Tim Burton develops his story Edward Scissorhands similarly to Shelley’s Frankenstein. He too depicts a creature of change, far from the social norm. Edward was shown to clearly benefit the society he entered and yet the narrow-mindedness of a few contorted the perceptions of the larger group. The result is like that of Viktor’s creature for Edward is scorned and thrust out of the society he could have contributed to.

In my previous essays I discussed the implications of change; however, for the purpose of this remediated work (which is in and of itself an example of change) I will discuss the danger of a narrow mind and of fearing change. Rather than to fear change one might benefit from embracing it.

I have reread each of my writing projects numerous times and have decided to piece the last three together in order to form an overall conclusion for this class. All of our discussions, readings, and assignments have led me to think about change and how best to respond to it. I want to argue that one must always have an open mind in order to learn. Learning how to learn using technology, learning from mistakes, learning how to be tolerant; all of these things can result from embracing change. I believe I have to some extent learned all of these things in this class and overall have learned that change is not a bad thing. My remediation of my writing projects is my way of communicating this.

Original Essays:

Embracing Technology

“That was then, this is now”. Birkerts recognizes that change is taking place. Confronted with the future, Birkerts fears the “embrace of technologies” (211). It is impossible, however, to ignore them. Even Birkerts admits that “it is very clear that the process is well underway and that it is not likely to stop” (211). This process includes the ever expanding World Wide Web, filled with informative cites such as Wikipedia, search engines such as Google, and hypertexts such as “The Jew’s Daughter”. “The Jew’s Daughter” is an example of a hypertext and also of a larger cultural shift to a technological society, one that is feared by some but one that is inevitable; this change should be embraced in order to create a new, more efficient way in which to gather information.

Some may ask, as I did, what is a hypertext? A hypertext is a text displayed on a computer or another electronic device. A hypertext demands an active reader; it blurs the distinction between author and reader, and it is fluid, multiple, and changing. In addition, hypertexts are not fixed or single; they have no beginning or ending, no center or margin, no inside or outside. They are multi-centered, networked, and finally anti-hierarchical and democratic. It is clear from these definitions that a hypertext is entirely different than a text on paper. It is this distinction that allows a reader to approach electronic texts correctly.

The Jew’s daughter has a narrative that is unique in that the story is navigated by rolling over a blue word which subtly changes the narrative of the entire page. The text is an example of a hypertext that demands its reader’s interaction. It is also fluid and changing. The story is certainly compelling and thought provoking and it must be read in depth. The depth of reading concerns Birkerts and this text is certainly multi-faceted and profound enough to garner even his focus. There are no distractions in this text merely words on a page that shift by way of the reader’s initiation. The page is stationary the only movement is so subtle that one can easily miss its transformation. The brilliance in the configuration of this text is that as the text changes the story remains almost seamless and certainly continuous. If one approaches the text with the understanding that it is not a work of literature meant for the printed page, the need for comparison is eliminated and it can be enjoyed for what it is: an interactive electronic work of literature.

There are various electronic texts that lack depth and meaning. As in any type of literature the possibility of poor authorship exists. Many of the electronic texts offered on the internet are shallow and unnecessary. One could certainly feel “uninspired” by such texts, much like Birkerts was by Stuart Moulthrop’s “Victory Garden” (151). Birkerts fears technology like these hypertexts because “we are, as a culture, as a species, becoming shallower; that is we have turned from depth” (228). This statement could very well be true. Technology presents us with many distractions. However, it also gives us the ability to dive deeper than ever before. There is a limitless source of knowledge and information on the internet. Research that would have taken weeks can be reduced to hours online. One can read one article and follow a hyperlink to yet another. The way in which we learn and gather information has changed and contrary to Birkerts, I believe this is a good thing.

Socrates was concerned with what the transition from orality to script. Birkerts compares this historical change to the new technological change that is taking place. He is concerned that the “rules of intellectual procedure [are changing] completely” (156). Is this a bad thing? No. Texts like “The Jew’s Daughter” are part of this change. Birkerts writes about that the “fervid embrace of the future, [and the] inevitability of complete social transformation” (215). While he finds this disconcerting I find it exciting. We as a society are given access to mass amounts of knowledge. The concern with technology need only be how to utilize it in order to learn more efficiently. Birkerts recognizes the inevitability of change yet he limits himself by fearing it. Technology must be embraced in order to transform our society not into one of less intelligence but into one capable of exploiting the incredible intellectual possibilities it affords us.

Edward’s Scissor Hands

Dressed in a lavender colored, 50’s inspired, ensemble Peg Boggs, the local Avon representative, arrives at Edward’s gothic castle hoping to make a sale. She enters uninvited and is confronted with a vast seemingly uninhabited abode full of dusty old machinery. Determined to sell Avon’s “exquisite new line of softer colors” Peg climbs the cob web covered stairs and finds Edward’s room. His “bed” is a straw mat located in the fireplace. Newspapers, Magazines and books litter the floor; Peg draws closer to view a collage on the wall above the bed. Newspaper clippings feature titles that read: “Newlyleds, 90 & to have a baby”, “Boy born without eyes reads with his hands: He feels heat of the words”, and “Boy begs strangers to ADOPT him – & they do!”. With a furrowed brow Peg turns from the collage and sees Edward for the first time. Lurking in the shadows, scissor’s snapping, he finally emerges and Peg’s eyes widen with fear. Tim Burton’s film Edward Scissorhands, while at times colorful and amusing, also has darker elements that mirror Shelley’s concern, in her novelFrankenstein, regarding the implications of creating life through unnatural means.

The components of Edward’s aforementioned collage are shown to the audience for exactly ten seconds. Their purpose is to give the viewer a brief but enlightening view of Edward’s complexity. He is not simply a monstrosity; he reads books and cuts images of the Virgin Mary and baby Jesus out of magazines to hang above his bed. He takes pleasure in reading stories of individuals overcoming terrible odds and finding happiness. The collage is representative of Edward’s character; he is intelligent and apathetic, and throughout the film, shows an eagerness to be accepted and to prove his worth. Edward’s collage effectively introduces the audience to a gentle intelligent creation prior to observing his monstrous appendages. In this way, Burton instills empathy in his audience toward Edward without ever having seen him.

As Edward emerges from the shadows the initial reaction of fear, experienced by Mrs. Boggs and perhaps by Burton’s audience, gives way to curiosity as he implores the intruder not to go. The viewer combines this gentle plea with the enlightening images from his collage and immediately pathos has taken effect Mrs. Boggs exclaims “What happened to you?!” Edward replies, “I’m not finished”. Her next question: “Where is your family? Your Mother? Your Father?” he responds, “He didn’t wake up.” As the story progresses the viewer learns that Edward is incomplete. His creator died just as he was preparing to give Edward human hands. Edward’s abandonment scene is very poignant for as The Inventor slips to the ground, his eyes wide, and empty with death, Edward reaches out to grasp his new hands and in slow motion the blades rip through the rubber-like flesh of the unattached appendages. Edward’s countenance conveys his horror as he watches his only companion and his only hope for normalcy fall at his feet. He stares down at the mutilated hands blankly and the camera zooms out so that the audience sees Edward standing above the remnants of his would-be hands and the lifeless body of The Inventor with his scissor hands splayed. He then reaches out to stroke The Inventor’s cheek and bright red blood oozes from the resulting cuts. Edward raises the blood-soaked blades to his face and examines them, his face filled with horror. Just as Frankenstein’s creation is aware of his monstrosity, Edward too recognizes the violence he unwittingly possesses. His inventor’s “abandonment” resembles Victor’s, though Edward’s creator, shows him love by teaching him etiquette and reading him amusing poetry; he still leaves Edward unfinished and unfortunately monstrous.

The scenes featuring Edward’s creator are flashbacks that occur as the present drama of the film swells. Edward remembers The Inventor’s death as he is confronted with animosity from the Bogg’s neighbors. Peg brought Edward home to her suburban neighborhood after their first meeting. Unlike Victor’s creation who was scorned by all who observed his figure, Edward is at first largely accepted by the neighbors. His scissor hands are exploited for gardening, barbering, and pet trimming. It is not long however, before his hands are exploited for other means such as robbery. Caught in the act, Edward is brought to prison and deemed by a psychologist to have a “radically underdeveloped” vision of reality. The psychologist also claims that the years Edward spent in isolation without any guidance have left him with no context for right and wrong. These explanations are irrelevant to the neighbors who enjoy the vicious gossip that spreads about Edward. A scene developed by Burton that mirrors Shelley’s novel occurs as Mrs. Boggs young son Kevin walks home from a friend’s house. A car full of drunk teenagers is careening down the road just as Kevin crosses the street to go home and Edward pushes him out of the way just in time. Unfortunately what would be gentle inquisitive strokes on Kevin’s face are various cuts and slashes. The neighbors emerge from their houses in horror confronting the terrified Edward. As he looks around him at all the angry faces and listens to the sirens approaching he turns and runs back to his castle. This scene is reminiscent of Shelley’s monster’s narrative in which he explains his attempt rescue a drowning girl and the subsequent abuse he receives from her father. Both creations have good intentions however their monstrous forms prevent them from being productive members of a society.

Tim Burton concludes his Frankenstein-esque story with Edward’s return to his castle separated from the society he had benefited because despite his gentleness and his desire to use his hands for good, their sharp blades are too large to be ignored. Similarly to Shelley, Burton develops a film that explores the dangers of creating life unnaturally. Burton emphasizes the danger it presents to the creation who risks living a life isolated from others as the object of scorn. While having to confront the reality of Edward’s monstrous frame one recognizes that while he cannot touch you, his story will.

Shelley’s Monstrosity

Although Frankenstein is commonly misconstrued as the story of a mad scientist’s creation of an inarticulate and largely destructive monster, one need only read Mary Shelley’s introduction to her novel to understand that the story is in fact a much more complicated account of man’s potential for monstrosity.  Whether implicitly or explicitly, Shelley alludes to her protagonist, Frankenstein, and to his creation as she describes to her readers the process by which she came to create her novel. In doing so the reader gains a better understanding of both Shelley and Frankenstein.

On the first page of her introduction Shelley feels encumbered upon to explain not only the premise for her novel but to elucidate some of her own history as well. As the daughter of “two person’s of distinguished literary celebrity” and the wife of the poet Percy Shelley, she is encouraged to “prove [herself] worthy of [her] parentage, and enroll [herself] on the page of fame” (Shelley, 21). The echo of words like “fame” and “reputation” appear reminiscent of Victor’s desire for “glory” and “power” (Shelley 21, 47, 57). Shelley’s husband was “anxious” that she should seek a “literary reputation” and this anxiety must certainly have been felt and translated to his wife who describes her inability to produce literature as “mortifying” (Shelley, 23). Shelley whether by intent or by chance has Victor similarly shamed by his professors. Victor spent years studying the works of Albertus Magnus and Paracelsus and upon reaching university was told that it was all for naught. He was chastised for learning “exploded systems and useless names” and for living in a “desert land” reading texts as “musty as they are ancient” (Shelley, 52). Both Shelley and Victor sought to overcome these criticisms and thus their creations were brought to life.

I have taken the liberty to extend the similarities between the two “creators”, the author and the scientist, further and have found that mankind treated both “creations” monstrously. Both the novel and Frankenstein’s progeny contain intelligence and sentiment that have been largely ignored and treated to the superficial tendencies of man. The “monster” was condemned for his hideous figure; his intelligence and potential were ignored for his unfortunate countenance. Shelley’s novel was embraced and interpreted on stage and on screen in a way that largely ignored the complexity of her “monster” character. The horror of its corpse-composed body seems too fantastic of a fiend to complicate with intelligence and thus filmmakers and playwrights misconstrue Shelley’s novel entirely, for what set off to be a ghost story quickly became a story of man’s inhumanity. What sets Shelley’s creation apart from Victor’s is the “affection” she feels for her novel, for “it was the offspring of happy days” (Shelley, 24). Victor treated his creation with the same contempt as his fellow man and thus his creation, his “monster” with the potential for good, became “hellish… full of treachery and fiendlike malice” (Shelley, 178).

Much of the interpretation of Shelley’s introduction is merely conjecture, for despite the fact that the purpose of an introduction is to clarify an author’s intent, Shelley leaves her reader with more questions than answers. As she writes, explanations are “for myself; my readers have nothing to do with these associations” (Shelley, 25). One can, however, form the connection between creators and creations when Shelley refers to her novel as her “hideous progeny” which she encourages to “go forth and prosper” (Shelley, 25).

Final Project:

Sven Birkerts is an admittedly anxious man. As his title explicates, he is concerned with “the fate of reading in an electronic age”. It is clear from his compilation of essays that what he fears most is change. Birkerts concedes to the inevitability of technological change in his introduction to the 2006 edition of his book, Gutenberg Elegies, yet he maintains that the anxieties expressed in his essays “have not been vanquished” (xii). Birkerts is not alone in fearing change; Mary Shelley and Tim Burton both create stories in which societies are forced to react to change. In each story the reaction is fear. What is most telling about both Frankenstein and Edward Scissorhands is that the fear turns to violent rejection and consequently to discomfort and mayhem for those narrow-minded groups. One can learn from Shelley and from Burton, that to fear change, as Birkerts does, is to have a narrow mind; and that instead one must embrace change and

Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein predates Tim Burton’s film Edward Scissorhands by nearly two hundred years, and yet the theme of the danger of a narrow mind remains resonant. Both Shelley and Burton are concerned with how to respond to technological and scientific change. The creation of man through unnatural means while alarming, is not disastrous. Each creation was intelligent and inherently good; it is only after the creature and Edward are mistreated out of fear, that they become destructive. Both creations have good intentions however their monstrous forms prevent them from being seen as productive members of a society. Thus Shelley’s reader and Burton’s audience can conclude that these creatures of change are not monstrous, man is. Man’s potential for monstrosity, or for clarification, intolerance, is alarming and is enhanced by narrow-mindedness.  Burton and Shelley emphasize the danger it presents to the creation who risks living a life isolated from others as the object of scorn. In both works it is impossible to ignore the appeal of the creations. Frankenstein’s monster is intelligent and inspires apathy for all he wants is companionship; Edward similarly desires love and attempts to gain it by helping others. The creatures represent change that could have been embraced but was instead scorned. Both the novel and the film elucidate the need for an open-mind. To embrace change is to be tolerant; intolerance is destructive.

Sven Birkerts is in many ways intolerant and narrow-minded. Throughout his essays he uses words like skepticism, alarm, anxiety, and fear. It isn’t any wonder that he is unable to accept change. By way of explanation Birkerts writes, “We are, it seems, most willing to accept a life hurried and fragmented on every front by technology; we are getting past the prior way of things, which could be slow and frustrating, but was also vivid in its material totality” (xii). While he is certainly entitled to his opinion, Birkerts is encumbering himself with unnecessary fear. Like Birkerts says, “That was then, this is now”; he recognizes that change is taking place and yet when confronted with the future, fears the “embrace of technologies” (211). It is, however, impossible to ignore them. Even Birkerts admits that “it is very clear that the process is well underway and that it is not likely to stop” (211). We are in the midst of a larger cultural shift to a technological society, one that is feared by some but one that is inevitable; this change should be embraced in order to create a new, more efficient way in which to gather information.

Socrates was concerned with what the transition from the oral to script. It was his opinion that writing instead of memorizing would be effective in impending one’s intelligence and ability to gain knowledge. Birkerts compares this historical change to the new technological change that is taking place. He is concerned that the “rules of intellectual procedure [are changing] completely” (156). It is undeniable that the way in which we gather information and obtain knowledge is changing. Technology allows instant access to infinite amounts of knowledge. If one has an open mind there is no limit to how much one can learn. Wikipedia and Google make it possible for anyone to learn just about anything in a matter of minutes. This change alarms Birkerts for he feels that it will eliminate literature and deep reading and yet these technological tools make accessing literature easier and as I have mentioned before, the concern is not what will happen to how we used to read, but rather how we will read now.

Birkerts writes about that the “fervid embrace of the future, [and the] inevitability of complete social transformation” (215). While he finds this disconcerting I find it exciting. We as a society are given access to mass amounts of knowledge. The concern with technology need not be what it might do to traditional means of learning, but only how it can be utilized in order to learn in new more effective ways. Birkerts recognizes the inevitability of change yet he limits himself by fearing it. Technology must be embraced in order to transform our society not into one of less intelligence but into one capable of exploiting the incredible intellectual possibilities it affords us.

Change is an inevitable part of existence. If mankind were to never embrace change we would be a dismal species. Adaptation is necessary for not only survival but for humanity as well. Without humanity, or kindness, mankind is no different than beast, a dramatic statement to be sure but true nonetheless. It is the nature of our species to adapt and to change. While change may appear alarming, it is almost always results in knowledge. We learn from our past and consequently create a better future.

The future is upon us. In the four years since Birkerts wrote his second introduction we have seen even more amazing advances in technology and there does not seem to be an end in sight. Yes, change is in effect, yet one need not fear this change. Instead, one must always have an open mind in order to learn. Learning how to learn using technology, learning how to be tolerant, and learning from mistakes; all of these things can result from embracing change. We can learn from Shelley and Burton who encourage tolerance and who condemn narrow-mindedness. And we can learn from Birkerts that fear, anxiety, skepticism, and alarm are all symptoms of the small-minded.

Embracing Technology

“That was then, this is now”. Birkerts recognizes that change is taking place. Confronted with the future, Birkerts fears the “embrace of technologies” (211). It is impossible, however, to ignore them. Even Birkerts admits that “it is very clear that the process is well underway and that it is not likely to stop” (211). This process includes the ever expanding World Wide Web, filled with informative cites such as Wikipedia, search engines such as Google, and hypertexts such as “The Jew’s Daughter”. “The Jew’s Daughter” is an example of a hypertext and also of a larger cultural shift to a technological society, one that is feared by some but one that is inevitable; this change should be embraced in order to create a new, more efficient way in which to gather information.

Some may ask, as I did, what is a hypertext? A hypertext is a text displayed on a computer or another electronic device. A hypertext demands an active reader; it blurs the distinction between author and reader, and it is fluid, multiple, and changing. In addition, hypertexts are not fixed or single; they have no beginning or ending, no center or margin, no inside or outside. They are multi-centered, networked, and finally anti-hierarchical and democratic. It is clear from these definitions that a hypertext is entirely different than a text on paper. It is this distinction that allows a reader to approach electronic texts correctly.

The Jew’s daughter has a narrative that is unique in that the story is navigated by rolling over a blue word which subtly changes the narrative of the entire page. The text is an example of a hypertext that demands its reader’s interaction. It is also fluid and changing. The story is certainly compelling and thought provoking and it must be read in depth. The depth of reading concerns Birkerts and this text is certainly multi-faceted and profound enough to garner even his focus. There are no distractions in this text merely words on a page that shift by way of the reader’s initiation. The page is stationary the only movement is so subtle that one can easily miss its transformation. The brilliance in the configuration of this text is that as the text changes the story remains almost seamless and certainly continuous. If one approaches the text with the understanding that it is not a work of literature meant for the printed page, the need for comparison is eliminated and it can be enjoyed for what it is: an interactive electronic work of literature.

There are various electronic texts that lack depth and meaning. As in any type of literature the possibility of poor authorship exists. Many of the electronic texts offered on the internet are shallow and unnecessary. One could certainly feel “uninspired” by such texts, much like Birkerts was by Stuart Moulthrop’s “Victory Garden” (151). Birkerts fears technology like these hypertexts because “we are, as a culture, as a species, becoming shallower; that is we have turned from depth” (228). This statement could very well be true. Technology presents us with many distractions. However, it also gives us the ability to dive deeper than ever before. There is a limitless source of knowledge and information on the internet. Research that would have taken weeks can be reduced to hours online. One can read one article and follow a hyperlink to yet another. The way in which we learn and gather information has changed and contrary to Birkerts, I believe this is a good thing.

Socrates was concerned with what the transition from orality to script. Birkerts compares this historical change to the new technological change that is taking place. He is concerned that the “rules of intellectual procedure [are changing] completely” (156). Is this a bad thing? No. Texts like “The Jew’s Daughter” are part of this change. Birkerts writes about that the “fervid embrace of the future, [and the] inevitability of complete social transformation” (215). While he finds this disconcerting I find it exciting. We as a society are given access to mass amounts of knowledge. The concern with technology need only be how to utilize it in order to learn more efficiently. Birkerts recognizes the inevitability of change yet he limits himself by fearing it. Technology must be embraced in order to transform our society not into one of less intelligence but into one capable of exploiting the incredible intellectual possibilities it affords us.

Learning How to Learn Using Technology

As I read Birkerts’ conclusion, “Coda” I find myself focusing on his discussion of change. Each time the word is mention I feel that it is more alluded to than fully discussed. He mentions a process that is “well underway and that is not likely to stop” he writes that “in my heart I know that the change is already taking place”. With statements such as these it is clear that Birkerts is not ignorant of the inevitability of technology’s presence in society and the changes that will incur as a result. What I find most interesting is that he seems to recognize its inevitability and yet  cannot or will not accept it. Two men concerned with technology’s negative aspects, Sven Birkerts and author of the article “Is Google Making Us Stupid?”, Nicholas Carr, both address change and the fact that the written word has its own history and its own naysayers who disapproved the changes that the written word would bring. Carr discusses Socrates’ “bemoan[ing] the development of writing” fearing the changes it would bring on the way man learned. After reading this article and that particular paragraph I realized I had been approaching electronic texts in the wrong way.

Hypertexts are entirely different from physical texts on paper. In attempting to better understand hypertexts I spent a few minutes researching on the web and found a site which defined the term hypertext in several different enlightening ways. The first is that a hypertext “demands an active reader;  it blurs the distinction between author and reader”. According to the site, hypertexts are also fluid, multiple, changing; not fixed or single; they have no beginning or ending, no center or margin, no inside or outside; they are multi-centered; they are networked, collaborative, and finally anti-hierarchical and democratic. Understanding the distinction between reading from a printed book and from a computer allowed me to approach the electronic text “The Jew’s Daughter” correctly.

“The Jew’s Daughter” has a narrative that is unique in that the story is navigated by rolling over a blue word which subtly changes the narrative of the entire page. The text is an example of a hypertext that demands its readers interaction. It is also fluid and changing. If one approaches the text with the understanding that it is NOT a work of literature meant to be printed on page, the need for comparison is eliminated and it can be enjoyed for what it is: an interactive electronic work of literature.

“The Jew’s Daughter” is an example of a hypertext and also of a larger cultural shift to a technological society, one that is feared by Birkerts and many others but one that is inevitable and should be embraced in order to utilize the change in the way we gather information.

Birkerts says that he fears technology because “we are, as a culture, as a species, becoming shallower; that is we have turned from depth”. I disagree with this claim. I believe, after researching and gaining a better understanding of hypertexts, that they are in some ways much more in-depth texts than the printed word. With a hypertext there is no clear beginning or end, one can follow a series of links and dive deeper and deeper into a subject than would be possible with print. Yes the way we learn is changing. Birkerts and Carr are recognizing a very real phenomenon, however they are limiting themselves by approaching change with fear. The inevitable cultural change that is taking place, if embraced, could lead to a revolution in knowledge and the way we as humans learn. Technology allows knowledge to be spread and gained faster and more efficiently than ever before and I don’t believe this will impend our ability to learn as long as we learn how to gain knowledge in the fastest and most efficient way possible.

My Abhorrence for Electronic Texts

I have been  avoiding all assignments posted requiring students to read Electronic Texts in the past week. The purpose of this post is to  form an explanation  as to why exploring these texts repulses me to the degree that it does.

The simple answer is that I have not been able to grasp conceptually their significance. In class we looked at several “texts” which I found to be confusing and slightly (well in the case of the birds.. VERY) annoying. Birkerts is concerned about the distraction involved while reading electronic texts and I believe that he  has a valid argument.

My intention for this assignment had been to ignore the Electronic Texts Archive altogether and to explore Wikipedia instead. I had hoped to write a simple paper regarding how great the site is, how easy it is to navigate, and how fantastic those little blue underlined hyperlinks are.  However I decided to be brave and to choose an electronic texts at whim. As I scan the web page I panic and click a hyperlink titled Regime Change. THERE ARE INSTRUCTIONS. Yes that’s right there are instructions on how to read this text. They’re a paragraph long.  So back I go. Next I choose The Jew’s Daughter; there are instructions for this one too but I’m running out of time and I’ve accepted their inevitability. The instructions tell me: “Text is driven by moving the mouse over highlighted keywords. There is a hidden navigation box in the upper right hand corner that can be expanded and used for referencing and accessing specific page-states.” Okayyy. We’re off. (That’s how I feel with these electronic texts; I’m not just opening a book and beginning, I’m reading the manual, strapping myself in, and pointing that little hand over my destination. CLICK. We’re off.)

My first read didn’t go so well. I forgot the instructions and had to start over. The second time through I begin to understand the concept; this text, at least, is sound and image free. All that one need do is read and follow the story’s changes. It would most likely behoove me to read the text again but my mind rebels. While I must admit that this was a well written text, its catchy little electronic text features completely detract from my ability to comprehend and enjoy the story. Had I bothered to read the author’s description before beginning my little journey I would have known what I was getting myself into..”an interactive, non-linear, multivalent narrative, a storyspace that is unstable but nonetheless remains organically intact, progressively weaving itself together by way of subtle transformations on a single virtual page.”  I can understand how this would excite some people. People who are bored with the linear progression of books, people who need to interact, to be involved with, their texts. I am not one of these interesting people.

I will conclude by saying that while I personally will probably never read another story posted in the Electronic Text Archive, I cannot denote their worth. While these texts allude me, they could certainly engage others. It is a matter if preference.. I prefer for the words to engage me and for my only interaction to be my thoughts. I prefer to read texts on a linear format without images flashing and sounds emerging. I prefer not to have to prepare myself with instructions before reading. But that’s just me.

Edward’s Scissor Hands

Dressed in a lavender colored, 50’s inspired, ensemble Peg Boggs, the local Avon representative, arrives at Edward’s gothic castle hoping to make a sale. She enters uninvited and is confronted with a vast seemingly uninhabited abode full of dusty old machinery. Determined to sell Avon’s “exquisite new line of softer colors” Peg climbs the cob web covered stairs and finds Edward’s room. His “bed” is a straw mat located in the fireplace. Newspapers, Magazines and books litter the floor; Peg draws closer to view a collage on the wall above the bed. Newspaper clippings feature titles that read: “Newlyleds, 90 & to have a baby”, “Boy born without eyes reads with his hands: He feels heat of the words”, and “Boy begs strangers to ADOPT him – & they do!”. With a furrowed brow Peg turns from the collage and sees Edward for the first time. Lurking in the shadows, scissor’s snapping, he finally emerges and Peg’s eyes widen with fear. Tim Burton’s film Edward Scissorhands, while at times colorful and amusing, also has darker elements that mirror Shelley’s concern, in her novel Frankenstein, regarding the implications of creating life through unnatural means.

The components of Edward’s aforementioned collage are shown to the audience for exactly ten seconds. Their purpose is to give the viewer a brief but enlightening view of Edward’s complexity. He is not simply a monstrosity; he reads books and cuts images of the Virgin Mary and baby Jesus out of magazines to hang above his bed. He takes pleasure in reading stories of individuals overcoming terrible odds and finding happiness. The collage is representative of Edward’s character; he is intelligent and apathetic, and throughout the film, shows an eagerness to be accepted and to prove his worth. Edward’s collage effectively introduces the audience to a gentle intelligent creation prior to observing his monstrous appendages. In this way, Burton instills empathy in his audience toward Edward without ever having seen him.

As Edward emerges from the shadows the initial reaction of fear, experienced by Mrs. Boggs and perhaps by Burton’s audience, gives way to curiosity as he implores the intruder not to go. The viewer combines this gentle plea with the enlightening images from his collage and immediately pathos has taken effect Mrs. Boggs exclaims “What happened to you?!” Edward replies, “I’m not finished”. Her next question: “Where is your family? Your Mother? Your Father?” he responds, “He didn’t wake up.” As the story progresses the viewer learns that Edward is incomplete. His creator died just as he was preparing to give Edward human hands. Edward’s abandonment scene is very poignant for as The Inventor slips to the ground, his eyes wide, and empty with death, Edward reaches out to grasp his new hands and in slow motion the blades rip through the rubber-like flesh of the unattached appendages. Edward’s countenance conveys his horror as he watches his only companion and his only hope for normalcy fall at his feet. He stares down at the mutilated hands blankly and the camera zooms out so that the audience sees Edward standing above the remnants of his would-be hands and the lifeless body of The Inventor with his scissor hands splayed. He then reaches out to stroke The Inventor’s cheek and bright red blood oozes from the resulting cuts. Edward raises the blood-soaked blades to his face and examines them, his face filled with horror. Just as Frankenstein’s creation is aware of his monstrosity, Edward too recognizes the violence he unwittingly possesses. His inventor’s “abandonment” resembles Victor’s, though Edward’s creator, shows him love by teaching him etiquette and reading him amusing poetry; he still leaves Edward unfinished and unfortunately monstrous.

The scenes featuring Edward’s creator are flashbacks that occur as the present drama of the film swells. Edward remembers The Inventor’s death as he is confronted with animosity from the Bogg’s neighbors. Peg brought Edward home to her suburban neighborhood after their first meeting. Unlike Victor’s creation who was scorned by all who observed his figure, Edward is at first largely accepted by the neighbors. His scissor hands are exploited for gardening, barbering, and pet trimming. It is not long however, before his hands are exploited for other means such as robbery. Caught in the act, Edward is brought to prison and deemed by a psychologist to have a “radically underdeveloped” vision of reality. The psychologist also claims that the years Edward spent in isolation without any guidance have left him with no context for right and wrong. These explanations are irrelevant to the neighbors who enjoy the vicious gossip that spreads about Edward. A scene developed by Burton that mirrors Shelley’s novel occurs as Mrs. Boggs young son Kevin walks home from a friend’s house. A car full of drunk teenagers is careening down the road just as Kevin crosses the street to go home and Edward pushes him out of the way just in time. Unfortunately what would be gentle inquisitive strokes on Kevin’s face are various cuts and slashes. The neighbors emerge from their houses in horror confronting the terrified Edward. As he looks around him at all the angry faces and listens to the sirens approaching he turns and runs back to his castle. This scene is reminiscent of Shelley’s monster’s narrative in which he explains his attempt rescue a drowning girl and the subsequent abuse he receives from her father. Both creations have good intentions however their monstrous forms prevent them from being productive members of a society.

Tim Burton concludes his Frankenstein-esque story with Edward’s return to his castle separated from the society he had benefited because despite his gentleness and his desire to use his hands for good, their sharp blades are too large to be ignored. Similarly to Shelley, Burton develops a film that explores the dangers of creating life unnaturally. Burton emphasizes the danger it presents to the creation who risks living a life isolated from others as the object of scorn. While having to confront the reality of Edward’s monstrous frame one recognizes that while he cannot touch you, his story will.

edward’s gentle scissor hands

As I sit down to watch Tim Burton’s “Edward Scissorhands” my preconceptions are limited. I know enough about the film to form the basis of its connection with Shelly’s “Frankenstein” on Edward being a creation. This connection is intensified by Burton’s use of pathos in the film. Similarly to Shelley, and in fact to a much greater extent, Burton’s creation evokes sympathy. Edward’s complexity is introduced 10 minutes into the film when the Avon lady comes to his door. Before the viewer even sees Edward, Burton focuses on and pans across a collage. This collage is Burton’s way of giving the viewer insight into his “creation’s” psyche. Like many young adults Edward has created a collage on his wall that personifies himself. Newspaper clippings feature titles that read: “Newlyleds, 90 & to have a baby”, “Boy born without eyes reads with his hands: He feels heat of the words”, and “Boy begs strangers to ADOPT him – & they do!”. These titles suggest that Edward cares about bizarre stories that have happy endings. The viewer can than infer that Edward himself seeks a happy ending and that he may be bizarre as well. Also a part of Edward’s collage are many prints of angels, as well as a an image of the Virgin Mary holding Jesus bordered by a  magazine clipping of a mother and child. These images are shown to the audience for exactly ten seconds. Their purpose is to give the viewer a brief but enlightening look at Edward’s complexity; his recognition of the strange, his desire for a happy ending, and for a mother’s nurturing. After viewing the collage, the Avon lady turns and she and the audience  see Edward for the first time.

Edward emerges from the shadows and forms a rather frightening figure. This momentary fear gives way to curiosity as he implores the intruder not to go. Mrs. Boggs and Burton’s audience combine this gentle plea with the enlightening images from his collage and immediately pathos has taken effect.  When Mrs. Boggs exclaims “what happened to you?!” Edward’s response is “I’m not finished”. Her next question: “Where is your family? Your mother? Your Father?” he responds, “He didn’t wake up.” The audience learns later that Edward is incomplete. His creator died just as he was preparing to give Edward human hands. This “abandonment” resembles Victor’s though Edward’s creator, the inventor, shows his creation love by teaching him etiquette and poetry, he still leaves Edward unfinished and monstrous.

Burton’s interpretation of Frankenstein is unique. His creatures introduction into society is not at all like Victor’s. Edward is largely accepted at first the Bogg’s neighbors are thrilled to have something to talk about and its not long before his scissor hands are exploited and he takes up gardening, barbering, and pet trimming. There are people who show Edward kindness one man in particular shares his war wound story and tells Edward to never let anyone call him handicapped . Unlike Shelley’s creature who resorted to violence in the absence of affection, Edward is always gentle. Despite his gentleness the monstrosity of his hands cannot be ignored.

A striking scene occurs during one of Burton’s few flashbacks that show the history of Edward’s creation. The scene in which the inventor dies is poignant because the reality and implications of creating a non-human creature are seen as Edward reaches out to stroke his creator’s cheek. The resulting cuts immediately show bright red blood and this image leaves the viewer with a foreboding feeling. Not long after this flashback the audience is once again directed to the reality of Edward’s situation.  His potential for destruction is too great.

Tim Burton concludes his Frankenstein-esque story with Edward’s return to his castle separated from the society he had benefited because despite his gentleness and his desire to use his hands for good, their sharp blades are too large to be ignored.

Shelley’s Monstrosity

Although Frankenstein is commonly misconstrued as the story of a mad scientist’s creation of an inarticulate and largely destructive monster, one need only read Mary Shelley’s introduction to her novel to understand that the story is in fact a much more complicated account of man’s potential for monstrosity.  Whether implicitly or explicitly, Shelley alludes to her protagonist, Frankenstein, and to his creation as she describes to her readers the process by which she came to create her novel. In doing so the reader gains a better understanding of both Shelley and Frankenstein.

On the first page of her introduction Shelley feels encumbered upon to explain not only the premise for her novel but to elucidate some of her own history as well. As the daughter of “two person’s of distinguished literary celebrity” and the wife of the poet Percy Shelley, she is encouraged to “prove [herself] worthy of [her] parentage, and enroll [herself] on the page of fame” (Shelley, 21). The echo of words like “fame” and “reputation” appear reminiscent of Victor’s desire for “glory” and “power” (Shelley 21, 47, 57). Shelley’s husband was “anxious” that she should seek a “literary reputation” and this anxiety must certainly have been felt and translated to his wife who describes her inability to produce literature as “mortifying” (Shelley, 23). Shelley whether by intent or by chance has Victor similarly shamed by his professors. Victor spent years studying the works of Albertus Magnus and Paracelsus and upon reaching university was told that it was all for naught. He was chastised for learning “exploded systems and useless names” and for living in a “desert land” reading texts as “musty as they are ancient” (Shelley, 52). Both Shelley and Victor sought to overcome these criticisms and thus their creations were brought to life.

I have taken the liberty to extend the similarities between the two “creators”, the author and the scientist, further and have found that mankind treated both “creations” monstrously. Both the novel and Frankenstein’s progeny contain intelligence and sentiment that have been largely ignored and treated to the superficial tendencies of man. The “monster” was condemned for his hideous figure; his intelligence and potential were ignored for his unfortunate countenance. Shelley’s novel was embraced and interpreted on stage and on screen in a way that largely ignored the complexity of her “monster” character. The horror of its corpse-composed body seems too fantastic of a fiend to complicate with intelligence and thus filmmakers and playwrights misconstrue Shelley’s novel entirely, for what set off to be a ghost story quickly became a story of man’s inhumanity. What sets Shelley’s creation apart from Victor’s is the “affection” she feels for her novel, for “it was the offspring of happy days” (Shelley, 24). Victor treated his creation with the same contempt as his fellow man and thus his creation, his “monster” with the potential for good, became “hellish… full of treachery and fiendlike malice” (Shelley, 178).

Much of the interpretation of Shelley’s introduction is merely conjecture, for despite the fact that the purpose of an introduction is to clarify an author’s intent, Shelley leaves her reader with more questions than answers. As she writes, explanations are “for myself; my readers have nothing to do with these associations” (Shelley, 25). One can, however, form the connection between creators and creations when Shelley refers to her novel as her “hideous progeny” which she encourages to “go forth and prosper” (Shelley, 25).

frankenstein

Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein begins with the letters of a R. Walton addressed to his sister, Mrs. Saville. I have to admit I was thoroughly confused and mildly annoyed with these letters. Nonetheless I struggled through his accounts of St. Petersburg and his laments for a companion until alas I discovered his lovely fourth letter which began to explain the premise for his story. And then I must say that the story became fascinating. I like how the tale is told by Frankenstein to Mr. Walton to his sister and finally to me the reader. I find this style of Shelly’s interesting.

Now for what I think of the story itself.. I am really and truly enjoying reading this book. Frankenstein’s story and his monster’s story within his story are fascinating. A true testament to Shelley’s powerful writing occurs in Chapter V with her description of the beast. She writes, “His limbs were in proportion, and [Frankenstein] had selected his features as beautiful. Beautiful!- Great God! His yellow skin scarcely covered the work of muscles and arteries beneath; his teeth of a pearly whiteness; but these luxuriances only formed  a more horrid contrast with his watery eyes, that seemed almost of the same colour as the dun white sockets in which they were set, his shriveled complexion and straight black lips” (Shelly, 60). I was horribly fascinated by this creature and that I believe is exactly how Shelley wanted me to feel. The creations ability to communicate to his creator fascinated me as well. The creature I had previously been exposed to was an inarticulate blundering oaf (or that was how he appeared to me in the old black and white movies). The juxtaposition between the monster’s intelligence and his appearance is proving to be an interesting development of character.

I also find it interesting that a theme in “Frankenstein” is the danger of knowledge. Mary Shelley is obviously an intellectual who has lived her life surrounded by literature and thus I wonder what her purpose was in having not only Victor Frankenstein regret his accumulation of knowledge, but his monster as well. Both seem to lament the loss of their ignorance. Victor’s fantastic scientific discovery is in fact his greatest horror. While the monster’s knowledge of human beings leaves him with the understanding that he is different, he is “a monster, a blot upon the earth, from which all men fled, and whom all men disowned” (Shelley, 109). This causes the monster to lament, “oh, that I had for ever remained in my native wood, nor know nor felt beyond the sensations of hunger, thirst, and heat” (Shelley, 109).

As I continue to read I continue with excitement I cannot wait to discover he rest of Frankenstein’s sad tale.

Reading and Writing in Society

Similarly to Birkerts, to Hayles, and to the Graff’s, I have been greatly impacted first by reading and consequently by writing. I thrived on what I read as a child and as I move toward adulthood I thrive not only on what I read but on the power writing gives me. I believe as Birkerts believes that “to be a writer [is] not just to produce words”; to be a writer is to be able to communicate in the most effective way possible. I joke that I am better on paper than I am in person but this statement holds truth; writing allows me to hone my ideas, my arguments, and my beliefs. Birkerts seems to emphasize the privacy of reading in his book The Gutenberg Elegies, stating that, “reading is the intimate, perhaps secret, part of a larger project, one that finally has little to do with the more societally oriented conceptions of the individual”. In contrast I believe that reading is a means by which to better understand oneself in a societal context and can therefore translate into written contributions toward society (Birkerts repeatedly stresses the connection between reader and writer in his collection of essays). Reading and writing are powerful tools for communication in society, not only of information but sentiment as well.

As a child reading was an exciting way for me to learn new things and to experience new emotions.  I grew up surrounded by literature due primarily to my mother who read to me every night and who read avidly herself. In a sense I believe I sought to achieve the same pleasure she so clearly derived from literature for myself. The shift from an audience to an active participant in the reading process took place in Kindergarten where I mastered my ABC’s and began the exciting journey towards the discovery of books. In the 1^st grade I had the most amazing teacher, Mrs. Meyer, who literally brought books to life in the classroom. She would reward our good behavior by adding marbles to a jar with the promise that when the jar was filled the class would win a special day in which to do whatever we liked. When the marbles reached the top of the jar my classmates and I would try to contribute the best possible suggestions for our special day and then we would all vote on which was best. The day I remember most vividly was “Amelia Bediala Day”; Mrs. Meyer dressed up as the comical maid Amelia Bedelia and we spent the entire day reading the books and acting out our favorite scenes. Mrs. Meyer not only made reading fun for every student inside of the classroom, she also recognized which students spent time reading outside of the classroom and in turn introduced an after school reading group that I was asked to join. It was thrilling for me to stay after school with a small group of my little 1^st grade peers and read through chapter books together.  I felt for the first time the power of the written word in the context of a larger group. My fellow students and friends were experiencing the same euphoria I felt upon meeting new characters in new places. It was here in my 1^st grade classroom after everyone else had gone home, and while we were eating snacks and reading books that I knew that I had found where I belonged. Not in those tiny chairs forming a semi-circle around Mrs. Meyer, but in a world where I was able to read as I pleased and where others were doing the same. I sought out books because they not only taught me new things, they made me feel wonderful. With every new book I looked for that feeling and I was never disappointed.  As Birkerts writes, “[reading] might almost be called pure escape, except that getting away is probably less important than getting to” (Birkerts, 88). When I read I was “getting to” wherever the book took me; it was mysterious and exciting and one of the most powerful things I have ever felt.

After 1^st grade the reading I did was a blur for I set off in a fury to read whatever I could get my hands on. I remember trips to the library that would result in stacks and stacks of books that would be returned within the week and replaced by new stacks.  I could not get enough of my newfound power and the joy of meeting new characters in new settings. Birkerts describes a wonderful feeling when he writes, “I value the state a book puts me in more than I value the specific contents… I recollect perfectly the feeling of reading [the book], the mood I occupied, but I am less sure about the narrative details” (Birkerts, 84). I know now that like Birkerts I read because the feeling of reading, of discovering even, appeals to me and as a result I read, and I read, and I read and that feeling prevails even when the plot does not. Birkerts would describe this stage during adolescence as “the ideal laboratory for the study of reading and self-formation” (Birkerts, 89). If I was forming myself during this time I was unaware but I believe it’s fair to say that in the eyes of others I was indeed shaping myself into a “reader”. I spent enough time in the presence of books usually with my hands full and my eyes occupied to be labeled as a reader. Next came the label of a “writer”; did I come up with this term myself or were others the first to deem me as such? I don’t know for sure but I do know that I accepted this new portrayal as readily as the first.

Writing was always something that was to be completed in school for an assignment; it wasn’t until just recently, during my senior year of high school, that I found the power that is writing. Birkerts summarizes my initial experiences with writing when he notes that, “the drive to write declared itself only gradually. Just as I was not a devourer of classics at a young age, so too I was not one of those gifted children who are forever making up stories or creating little books” (Birkerts, 40). I am, similarly to Birkerts and quite sadly, not some fantastic writer of fiction. The power of writing I describe was not some sudden ability to create characters, settings, and plots; it was rather the understanding that essays and papers written in school in response to whatever assignment were my contributions to thought and to understanding. When I wrote a paper and was awarded an A it was as though the teacher was validating my thoughts and saying that I had made a worthy contribution to the understanding of the topic. She was saying that my ideas, my sentence structure, my word choice, my use of figurative language were all worthwhile. I was worthwhile. How incredibly powerful I felt. And so writing for me meant that I was playing a role in the society of academia and led me to where I am now with the hope that my writing will extend beyond academics and I will write instead as a member of a broader society, making contributions perhaps for a magazine or newspaper where my opinions and ideas will be valued and deemed worthwhile by my readers.

I believe that most of what Birkerts writes in his Gutenberg Elegies about reading and the writer are true. He writes that in order to reach a “more inclusive understanding of reading (and writing) [one must] think in terms of continuum. At one end, the writer – the flesh and blood individual; at the other, the flesh and blood reader. In the center, the words, the turning pages, the decoding intelligence. Writing is the monumentally complex operation whereby experience, insight, and imagination are distilled into language; reading is the equally complex operation that disperses these distilled elements into another person’s life” (Birkerts, 96). What could be more social than this relationship between the reader and the writer? I believe Birkerts directly contradicts himself with this statement whereas he had previously held that reading was a private act he now discusses in length, how a “fully engaged, we work with the writer to build our own book” (Birkerts, 83). For thousands of years this communication has been taking place. When I read A Tale of Two Cities, Charles Dickens is communicating to me the variances’ in human interaction including: love, hate, revenge, and redemption. And while I am not able to sit down and talk with Charles about his novel, I can read essays written on Dickens and on A Tale of Two Cities to further my understanding; then if I so choose I can contribute to this communication with an essay of my own. With this I conclude that the processes of reading and writing are not able to be clearly separated and are therefore the most elementary means of communication in society, past or present.

and birkerts throws me for a loop

Birkerts’ second chapter is one of the most intensely personal pieces of writing I have ever read. He tells the chronological account of his life and literature intertwined and as I read I lose sight of my initial misgivings. As is probably evident in my first post, I found Birkerts’ opinions to be unfounded and to some extent I was repulsed by his seemingly condescending self. After reading the introductions I could barely get through his first chapter, so focused was I on the way he made me doubt my competence. It wasn’t until Birkerts’ writes in his second chapter, “what made me a reader were the experiences I got from the books themselves”, that he got my attention (35). From that point on I was enthralled by his inspired descriptions of his experiences with books. Birkerts’ writes,

“It is easy enough in retrospect to see a book as a screen, a shield, an escape, but at times there was just a magic – the startling and renewable discovery that a page covered with black markings could, with a slight mental exertion, be converted into an environment, an inward depth populated with characters and animated by diverse excitements” (35).

If ever there were a case for the importance of pathos in literature this chapter, “Paper Chase”, would be it. It wasn’t that I sympathized with Birkerts in the sense that I felt sorry for him, rather I felt a strange kinship with him. In all honesty this chapter was a little unsettling, for as I read many similarities between Mr. Birkerts and I became evident. No I am not from Latvian ancestry and I don’t have any daddy issues but I did grow up reading ceaselessly due, I believe, primarily to my mother’s influence. My mom is an avid reader and an occasional writer and I do believe she read me a bedtime story the night they brought me and my sister home from the hospital. During my early childhood my mom owned a children’s book company called “Abbey’s BenAnas Children’s Books” (my name, my brother’s and my sister’s.. cute huh?). This constant exposure to literature can certainly be attributed to my love of reading but it’s not fair to say that that was the sole reason for my interest in books, for my siblings, who were exposed to the same literature as I, have entirely different interests. No, like Birkerts I believe I felt a personal connection to books all of my life. (Now I would like to make the distinction that unlike Birkerts, reading did not and does not take precedence over other activities. As I child I would spend the entire day outside and only then would I come in and read. Why I feel like I have to make this distinction.. I don’t know. Perhaps because of the plain and simple fact that many people don’t find it favorable to spend one’s time invested solely in reading and I am afraid of being seen as one of the unfavorable. Sad, but true.)

This connection is what led me to where I am now, a college freshman majoring in English with dreams to be a writer. As I said before, I found this chapter to be unnerving; it was difficult for me to read about Birkerts in college, and downright painful to read about the life he embarked on after school. While reading about his “fantasies” about “travel and the eventualities of a writing career” and then his claim that “the soothing futurity at the core of the fantasy was gone” I was struck by my own, scarily similar fantasies and dreams and the possibility that, like Birkerts, I will someday find that my dreams were just that, that they won’t be my reality and that there is no future to look forward to (52,54). Although Birkerts did find his niche in writing his essays I can’t help but mourn the loss of Maine and his novels and the dreams that sustained him through all those years of reading in closets.