In "Map of the New World," Walcott describes a boat traveling through archipelagoes of the New World. He references the Odyssey, conveying a legacy of colonization and war.
Walcott makes a parallel between the sailboat in the Americas and Odysseus. After "the sail will lose sight of the islands," Walcott bridges the gap between the subjects he compares: "The ten-years war is finished." This ambiguous claim refers to the sail, but also to the next subject - he describes the damage of the Trojan War from which Odysseus flees. The notion of irreversible destruction applies to both that from which the sail returns and the Trojan War.
Walcott writes with more specificity about the Trojan War than the sail of the first half of the poem - much is left to inference. By equating the sail with Odysseus in his journey home, however, Walcott suggests the harm done to the New World is comparable to the destruction of Troy.
This analogy serves much more than to fill in the ambiguities of "Map of the New World." In the last stanza, Walcott describes a man who "plucks the first line of the Odyssey." After the damage described earlier in the poem, the (presumably Western) man continues to read this epic poem, considered one of the finest works of Western literature. The epic is so ingrained into Western culture, that its subject matter of colonization and war is as well. The literature the West values may not have a direct correlation with its imperialistic tendencies. Nevertheless, just as the Odyssey has been embraced by the West for centuries, so has its pattern of invasion and subjugation of other cultures.
Tuesday, April 24, 2012
Sunday, April 15, 2012
The Significance of Raskolnikov's Encounter with the Tradesman (Response to Question 12)
Toward the ending of Part 3 of Crime and Punishment, Raskolnikov encounters a stranger who claims to know him to be guilty of the crime of the murder of his landlord. Raskolnikov is confused - he asks the tradesman several of the many questions he has to ask: "But why do you ... come asking ... and say nothing ... what does it mean?" (272). Raskolnikov does not know where to begin, and feels threatened by this man. He makes another attempt: ""What do you .... what ... who is a murderer?" (272). Raskolnikov is so struck by the few words the tradesman does say that his reaction is both mental and physical. Upon being called a murderer, "his legs suddenly became terribly weak, a chill ran down his spine, and it was as if his heart stood still for a moment; then all at once it began pounding as if it had jumped off the hook" (272). As the tradesman walks away, Raskolnikov's face goes "pale," hi eyes "deadened," and stands "motionlessly" (272).
Raskolnikov's reaction demonstrates not only a guilty conscience, but disdain for his crime. Though the tradesman clearly knows Raskolnikov is a criminal, he does not reveal how he knows this, how he can prove this, or even if he intends to do either. The tradesman is only threatening in his ability to make Raskolnikov admit and suffer for his crime. The description of his legs becoming "weak" and of his heart "standing still" connote not physical pain, but death. The vocabulary Dostoesvsky employs - "pale," "deadened" and "motionlessly" - further portrays Raskolnikov as though he were dying. The words of the tradesman cause Raskolnikov to disintegrate, as it were, just like the murdered woman has. Raskolnikov feels such tremendous guilt over his crime that he seems to have a propensity to suffer the same consequences his victim did.
Raskolnikov's reaction demonstrates not only a guilty conscience, but disdain for his crime. Though the tradesman clearly knows Raskolnikov is a criminal, he does not reveal how he knows this, how he can prove this, or even if he intends to do either. The tradesman is only threatening in his ability to make Raskolnikov admit and suffer for his crime. The description of his legs becoming "weak" and of his heart "standing still" connote not physical pain, but death. The vocabulary Dostoesvsky employs - "pale," "deadened" and "motionlessly" - further portrays Raskolnikov as though he were dying. The words of the tradesman cause Raskolnikov to disintegrate, as it were, just like the murdered woman has. Raskolnikov feels such tremendous guilt over his crime that he seems to have a propensity to suffer the same consequences his victim did.
Tuesday, April 3, 2012
Humor in Free Indirect Discourse in Austen's Pride and Prejudice
In Pride and Prejudice, Jane Austen utilizes free indirect discourse in many ways. She communicates to the reader what the characters do not express and gives explanation of plot and setting where required.
Austen makes use of free indirect discourse for another, less functional, purpose - to humor the reader. For instance, when characters convene for breakfast in Chapter VIII, she makes a risible contrast between two men: "(Mr. Darcy) was divided between admiration of the brilliancy which exercise had given to her complexion, and doubt as to the occasion's justifying her coming so far alone. (Mr. Hurst) was thinking only of his breakfast" (24). Preceded by the description of Mr. Darcy's inquisitiveness, the description of Mr. Hurst's simplicity exaggerates this quality. Following the complex, multiclaused sentence pertaining to Mr. Darcy with a short one referring to Mr. Hurst accentuates the contrast Austen chooses to demonstrate.
Austen achieves the same effect in informing the reader of the characters' activities as Jane remains ill: "Elizabeth did not quit her room for a moment, nor were the other ladies often absent; the gentlemen being out, they had in fact nothing to do elsewhere" (24). Explaining the gentlemen's absence with a commitment to do nothing is humorous in itself. Placing this after a description of the women's attentiveness and activity makes a contrast makes the men look even sillier.
These two instances are humorous, but at the same time, they are cutting: Austen clearly holds little regard for Mr. Hurst, and she disapproves of the men's waisting time with no worries as others make themselves useful, out of genuine concern. Austen's humorous writing may entertain the reader, but it also provides an outlet for her cynicism and criticism. It is these risible moments when Austen makes her stance most clear, barely veiling it with a laugh.
Austen makes use of free indirect discourse for another, less functional, purpose - to humor the reader. For instance, when characters convene for breakfast in Chapter VIII, she makes a risible contrast between two men: "(Mr. Darcy) was divided between admiration of the brilliancy which exercise had given to her complexion, and doubt as to the occasion's justifying her coming so far alone. (Mr. Hurst) was thinking only of his breakfast" (24). Preceded by the description of Mr. Darcy's inquisitiveness, the description of Mr. Hurst's simplicity exaggerates this quality. Following the complex, multiclaused sentence pertaining to Mr. Darcy with a short one referring to Mr. Hurst accentuates the contrast Austen chooses to demonstrate.
Austen achieves the same effect in informing the reader of the characters' activities as Jane remains ill: "Elizabeth did not quit her room for a moment, nor were the other ladies often absent; the gentlemen being out, they had in fact nothing to do elsewhere" (24). Explaining the gentlemen's absence with a commitment to do nothing is humorous in itself. Placing this after a description of the women's attentiveness and activity makes a contrast makes the men look even sillier.
These two instances are humorous, but at the same time, they are cutting: Austen clearly holds little regard for Mr. Hurst, and she disapproves of the men's waisting time with no worries as others make themselves useful, out of genuine concern. Austen's humorous writing may entertain the reader, but it also provides an outlet for her cynicism and criticism. It is these risible moments when Austen makes her stance most clear, barely veiling it with a laugh.
Monday, April 2, 2012
Margaret's Judgments in Faust
In Faust, there exist multiple judgments regarding Margaret's crime. Her family and town scorn her for losing her virginity before marriage, condemning her to a dismal life. In deeming her actions as sins, Margaret herself holds the same beliefs of those of her family and town. There might be various judgments, however, among the audience. Margaret has sinned, but her wrongs may be considered collateral damage from Faust's commitment to greed and lust, inspired by Mephistopheles. Dramatic irony serves to divide (perhaps some of) the audiences' beliefs from those of the characters, unaware of Faust's loyalty to the Devil and thereby, the exceptional nature of the offense.
In "Night," Valentine provides a view of Margaret similar to that of the other characters (with the exception of Martha) in the play, but more substantiated. Valentine suggests that Margaret's behavior is not only immoral, but superficially Christian. He tells her: "You shall no longer wear your golden chain, / nor pray to God before the altar, / nor seek your pleasures at a dance / decked out in lace and finery" (341). The "golden chain" may refer to one with a crucifix that she wears; if this is the case, Valentine hints at the many flaws in such a necklace. Not only does a golden chain crudely display of wealth, but it passively accessorizes and luxuriates the painful event of Christ's death. By following the prediction that Margaret will be unable to pray with the loss of the privilege to dress well and enjoy social occasions, in the same sentence, Valentine reveals a possible equation of religious activity with frivolity. Whether or not Valentine's perspective was perceived by the audience as harsh or right, it has a reasonable basis. Valentine provides a fresh and rational view on Margaret's allegedly innocent behavior, thus narrowing the gap between the views of the characters, whom he represents, and those of an audience which, as (then) Christian, values humility and sincerity.
In "Night," Valentine provides a view of Margaret similar to that of the other characters (with the exception of Martha) in the play, but more substantiated. Valentine suggests that Margaret's behavior is not only immoral, but superficially Christian. He tells her: "You shall no longer wear your golden chain, / nor pray to God before the altar, / nor seek your pleasures at a dance / decked out in lace and finery" (341). The "golden chain" may refer to one with a crucifix that she wears; if this is the case, Valentine hints at the many flaws in such a necklace. Not only does a golden chain crudely display of wealth, but it passively accessorizes and luxuriates the painful event of Christ's death. By following the prediction that Margaret will be unable to pray with the loss of the privilege to dress well and enjoy social occasions, in the same sentence, Valentine reveals a possible equation of religious activity with frivolity. Whether or not Valentine's perspective was perceived by the audience as harsh or right, it has a reasonable basis. Valentine provides a fresh and rational view on Margaret's allegedly innocent behavior, thus narrowing the gap between the views of the characters, whom he represents, and those of an audience which, as (then) Christian, values humility and sincerity.
Monday, March 19, 2012
Layers of Reality in Don Quixote (Response to Part 2 Study Question 6)
Cervantes' Don Quixote is at once one and multiple texts. Cervantes tells the stories of Don Quixote, who has gone mad obsessing over chivalric texts. Cervantes mocks these texts through a parody of chivalry, mocking the heroic characters and deeds that constitute such low-brow literature.
Just as Cervantes mimics chivalry in Don Quixote, the protagonist does so as well. Cervantes goes through the motions of chivalry cynically, while Don Quixote, however, does so gullibly. At once, we have two commentaries on chivalry (so far) - that it misleads, but that it proves glory.
In Chapters II and III of Part II of Don Quixote, Cervantes adds another layer of textuality. Don Quixote and Sancho Panza learn that a moor named Cide Hamete Berenjena has written an account of their deeds. Don Quixote attributes the fact that this book has been made so soon after his accomplishments that "the blood of the enemies he had slain was not yet dry on the blade of his sword" to magic, denying unremarkable reality as he has done throughout the book (473). He proceeds to refuse reality by doubting Sancho Panza's mention in the moor's book: he reassures himself that "the acts of squires were never written down" (474). Don Quixote also dismisses the possibility that the moor has "annihilate(d) (his chivalric exploits) and place(d) them lower than the basest acts ever attributed to the basest squire" (473).
Making assumptions about the book Cide Hamete Berenjena has written without even reading it, Don Quixote creates, as it were, his own text. Each time Don Quixote considers an unpleasant truth - that such a book does not exist, that it mentions Sancho Panza, and that it indicts his deeds - he immediately reassures himself, conjuring up a text which he approves. Thus we have two potentially contradictory texts about Don Quixote, within a text that mocks a certain genre of text.
These layers of reality are a formal way in which Cervantes expresses the notion of subjective reality. Cervantes begins Don Quixote in the prologue warning the reader of inevitable flaws in the following stories, thereby demonstrating his outlook on his own work as biased. At the same time, Cervantes mocks chivalric texts, deeming them unrealistic and silly. In Part II, Cervantes has Don Quixote produce a text about himself to his own liking, when it may very well be different. Cervantes does make a general argument against chivalric literature, but also makes the reader aware of his bias. At the same time, Don Quixote creates a reality that does not match that of any other character. Even though Cervantes portrays Don Quixote as foolish, he also emphasizes that reality is subjective. The book about Don Quixote is at once as he sees it and others see it, and Don Quixote is only as Cervantes portrays him. Finally, Don Quixote is only as the reader interprets it. Don Quixote may seem to make contrasts between truth and fiction with the "chivalric exploits" of its protagonist, but it rather blurs any contrast with its many layers of reality.
Just as Cervantes mimics chivalry in Don Quixote, the protagonist does so as well. Cervantes goes through the motions of chivalry cynically, while Don Quixote, however, does so gullibly. At once, we have two commentaries on chivalry (so far) - that it misleads, but that it proves glory.
In Chapters II and III of Part II of Don Quixote, Cervantes adds another layer of textuality. Don Quixote and Sancho Panza learn that a moor named Cide Hamete Berenjena has written an account of their deeds. Don Quixote attributes the fact that this book has been made so soon after his accomplishments that "the blood of the enemies he had slain was not yet dry on the blade of his sword" to magic, denying unremarkable reality as he has done throughout the book (473). He proceeds to refuse reality by doubting Sancho Panza's mention in the moor's book: he reassures himself that "the acts of squires were never written down" (474). Don Quixote also dismisses the possibility that the moor has "annihilate(d) (his chivalric exploits) and place(d) them lower than the basest acts ever attributed to the basest squire" (473).
Making assumptions about the book Cide Hamete Berenjena has written without even reading it, Don Quixote creates, as it were, his own text. Each time Don Quixote considers an unpleasant truth - that such a book does not exist, that it mentions Sancho Panza, and that it indicts his deeds - he immediately reassures himself, conjuring up a text which he approves. Thus we have two potentially contradictory texts about Don Quixote, within a text that mocks a certain genre of text.
These layers of reality are a formal way in which Cervantes expresses the notion of subjective reality. Cervantes begins Don Quixote in the prologue warning the reader of inevitable flaws in the following stories, thereby demonstrating his outlook on his own work as biased. At the same time, Cervantes mocks chivalric texts, deeming them unrealistic and silly. In Part II, Cervantes has Don Quixote produce a text about himself to his own liking, when it may very well be different. Cervantes does make a general argument against chivalric literature, but also makes the reader aware of his bias. At the same time, Don Quixote creates a reality that does not match that of any other character. Even though Cervantes portrays Don Quixote as foolish, he also emphasizes that reality is subjective. The book about Don Quixote is at once as he sees it and others see it, and Don Quixote is only as Cervantes portrays him. Finally, Don Quixote is only as the reader interprets it. Don Quixote may seem to make contrasts between truth and fiction with the "chivalric exploits" of its protagonist, but it rather blurs any contrast with its many layers of reality.
Tuesday, February 28, 2012
Father-Daughter Relationships and Insecurity (Response to Question 3)
Shakespeare's decision to have Lear have three daughters, rather than sons, is functional for the plot of King Lear. Whereas the daughters of a king traditionally inherited equal portions of their father's estate, the eldest son inherits it in its entirety. Thus Shakespeare determines equal statuses for the daughters, as opposed to the hierarchical relationship of brothers.
Lear, however, violates the rules of inheritance in several ways. Not only does Lear resign from the role of king prematurely, but also he has failed to provide an heir to take his place. Lear makes an effort as well to install a sort of hierarchy between his daughters that echoes that between sons. He loves Cordelia more than Goneril and Regan and makes this grading clear when he formally passes down his estate to them in Act I Scene I. Lear has each daughter make a speech to demonstrate their love for their father, effectively putting them in competition to move him. Lear asks Goneril and Regan to speak first, as he expects Cordelia to make the best speech; this choice makes favoritism evident. Lear makes his expectation of a better speech: "The vines of France and milk of Burgundy / Strive to be interessed, what can you say to draw / A third more opulent than your sisters?" (6).
Striving to install hierarchy where it need not exist points to Lear's insecurity. Lear is so uncertain of his daughters' love for him, that he utilizes the occasion of passing down his wealth in order to have them prove their feelings through speech. Moreover, Lear's effort to rank his daughters highlights his mistakes as king. Lear strives to establish the sort of sibling rivalry among his daughters that would exist between brothers; he imitates the traditional pecking order in an effort to relieve his guilt for failing to provide an heir. Soon after, Lear further violates tradition and reveals the ladder on which he deems his daughters by disowning Cordelia. Lear consistently makes poor decisions as king, and then hopes to ignore his failures by imitating tradition. The formal passing down of Lear's estate itself is unnecessary according to tradition; he acts as though has a certain kingly authority by withholding his estate until due submission and flattery are expressed. Lear struggles to convince himself of his status as king.
Lear, however, violates the rules of inheritance in several ways. Not only does Lear resign from the role of king prematurely, but also he has failed to provide an heir to take his place. Lear makes an effort as well to install a sort of hierarchy between his daughters that echoes that between sons. He loves Cordelia more than Goneril and Regan and makes this grading clear when he formally passes down his estate to them in Act I Scene I. Lear has each daughter make a speech to demonstrate their love for their father, effectively putting them in competition to move him. Lear asks Goneril and Regan to speak first, as he expects Cordelia to make the best speech; this choice makes favoritism evident. Lear makes his expectation of a better speech: "The vines of France and milk of Burgundy / Strive to be interessed, what can you say to draw / A third more opulent than your sisters?" (6).
Striving to install hierarchy where it need not exist points to Lear's insecurity. Lear is so uncertain of his daughters' love for him, that he utilizes the occasion of passing down his wealth in order to have them prove their feelings through speech. Moreover, Lear's effort to rank his daughters highlights his mistakes as king. Lear strives to establish the sort of sibling rivalry among his daughters that would exist between brothers; he imitates the traditional pecking order in an effort to relieve his guilt for failing to provide an heir. Soon after, Lear further violates tradition and reveals the ladder on which he deems his daughters by disowning Cordelia. Lear consistently makes poor decisions as king, and then hopes to ignore his failures by imitating tradition. The formal passing down of Lear's estate itself is unnecessary according to tradition; he acts as though has a certain kingly authority by withholding his estate until due submission and flattery are expressed. Lear struggles to convince himself of his status as king.
Sunday, February 19, 2012
Montaigne's Attitude Toward Idleness (Blog Prompt 4)
Michel de Montaigne argues that leisure can be dangerous in his essay, "On Idleness." At the same time, however, he is subject to the very "risks" he believes idleness poses, as a retired man letting his mind wander in Essays.
Montaigne essay attempts to back up the adage with which I am familiar, 'an idle mind is the Devil's playground' - the notion that the when without purpose, one is subconsciously vulnerable to deviance. The quotations Montaigne incorporates serve the same purpose the dictum above does: they all substantiate this notion by referring to traditional belief.
Montaigne even combines famous quotations with his own clauses in order to place his belief in context. For instance, he writes: "If we do not occupy (our minds) with some definite subject which curbs and restrains them, they rush wildly to and fro in the ill-defined field of the imagination..." (27). Ending his words with a comma, Montaigne then quotes Virgil to complete his sentence: "as water, trembling in a brass bowl, reflects the sun's light or the form of the shining moon, and so the bright beams flit in all directions, darting up at times to strike the lofty fretted ceilings." Using quotations to both restate and as here, elaborate, his fear of inactivity, Montaigne locates his argument in history and in those of well-respected thinkers.
Montaigne does not admit, however, that all of his essays are the product of his own idle, wandering mind. Even "On Idleness" demonstrates Montaigne's thoughts on an abstract principle, as well as the connections he has made between the beliefs of thinkers in vastly different places and times. Montaigne neither works nor applies his intellect to practical means; he instead thinks and writes.
Perhaps Montaigne is aware of the hypocrisy of his criticism of idleness - he does begin Essays with a disclaimer, as it were, that the views he puts forth are subject to his own individual "imperfection": "Had my lot been cast among those peoples who are said still to live under the kindly liberty of nature's primal laws, I should, I assure you, most gladly have painted myself complete and in all my nakedness" (23). I gather that, whether or not Montaigne is aware of the paradox "On Idleness" reveals, he knows that an idle mind is vulnerable to bad and good. Maybe Montaigne believes that only the idle minds of Virgil, Horace, Martial, Lucan, and his own are susceptible to goodness.
Montaigne essay attempts to back up the adage with which I am familiar, 'an idle mind is the Devil's playground' - the notion that the when without purpose, one is subconsciously vulnerable to deviance. The quotations Montaigne incorporates serve the same purpose the dictum above does: they all substantiate this notion by referring to traditional belief.
Montaigne even combines famous quotations with his own clauses in order to place his belief in context. For instance, he writes: "If we do not occupy (our minds) with some definite subject which curbs and restrains them, they rush wildly to and fro in the ill-defined field of the imagination..." (27). Ending his words with a comma, Montaigne then quotes Virgil to complete his sentence: "as water, trembling in a brass bowl, reflects the sun's light or the form of the shining moon, and so the bright beams flit in all directions, darting up at times to strike the lofty fretted ceilings." Using quotations to both restate and as here, elaborate, his fear of inactivity, Montaigne locates his argument in history and in those of well-respected thinkers.
Montaigne does not admit, however, that all of his essays are the product of his own idle, wandering mind. Even "On Idleness" demonstrates Montaigne's thoughts on an abstract principle, as well as the connections he has made between the beliefs of thinkers in vastly different places and times. Montaigne neither works nor applies his intellect to practical means; he instead thinks and writes.
Perhaps Montaigne is aware of the hypocrisy of his criticism of idleness - he does begin Essays with a disclaimer, as it were, that the views he puts forth are subject to his own individual "imperfection": "Had my lot been cast among those peoples who are said still to live under the kindly liberty of nature's primal laws, I should, I assure you, most gladly have painted myself complete and in all my nakedness" (23). I gather that, whether or not Montaigne is aware of the paradox "On Idleness" reveals, he knows that an idle mind is vulnerable to bad and good. Maybe Montaigne believes that only the idle minds of Virgil, Horace, Martial, Lucan, and his own are susceptible to goodness.
Sunday, February 5, 2012
Augustine's Criticism of Paganism
In Book 1: Early Years of Confessions, Augustine criticizes Pagan logic found in Virgil's Aeneid. He thinks it shameful that in the Aeneid, Virgil becomes so upset over the death of his lover, Dido, when his larger problem is a lack of connection to God. Augustine writes: "What is more pitiable than a wretch without pity for himself who weeps over the death of Dido dying for love of Aeneas, but not weeping over himself dying for his lack of love for you, my God....?" (Augustine, 15). According to Augustine, Dido is a distraction from Aeneas' connection to God, and like anyone but God, unworthy of such emotion.
Aeneas' sorrow is understandable in the world of the Aeneid: humans and Gods alike are subject to emotions, irrational and rational. They love, they cheat, they punish, they fear, etc. The logic Augustine imposes on this part of the Aeneas puts his suffering into perspective and makes the matter seem trivial. But further application of this ideal seems dangerously simplistic: at what point does Augustine deem matters unimportant against our faith in God? Also, if Augustine holds Aeneas to Christian standards, can he hold every man, regardless of time and circumstance, to the same standards?
Augustine starts of his Confessions with such ideals that do not allow room for grey areas. Either one is devoted to God or distracted by 'dust.' He then proceeds to condemn theatre as another distraction for God that poses the additional threat of propagating such distraction.
Augustine so worships God because he is responsible for all good things. For instance, Augustine attributes his own positive qualities to Him: "It was your will to endow us sufficiently with the level (of memory and intelligence) appropriate of our age" (12). Augustine claims earlier, however, that God is not only responsible for good but for everything: "You are God and Lord of all you have created. In you are the constant causes of inconstant things. All mutable things have in you their immutable origins. In you all irrational and temporal things have the everlasting causes of their life" (7). This idea that God is responsible for all coheres with the belief that He has created everything, and that we are not wise enough to understand his ways, even if they seem "irrational," "inconstant," or painful (like Dido's death) to us humans. In the Old Testament, Job learns that God is responsible for his pain, but he must ignore it. Similarly, here Augustine advocates disregard for all human interpretation of occurrences, and instead their attribution to a higher plan. It is then confusing why Augustine continuously extols God's benevolence, thanking him for everything such as being "the innermost recesses of my thinking" (16), when God is at the same time the force of everything negative and "irrational." If we should forgo interpretations of life around us and simply attribute everything to God's will, how do we distinguish between right and wrong - how can we even determine what is sinful and what is not?
Augustine's God-centric ideals seem to have the ability to answer all questions with the response, "God willed it." This approach, though perhaps more simple or satisfying than the confusion of emotions and gods and goddesses and fates in Paganism, threatens basic understanding of the world around us and our own feelings.
Aeneas' sorrow is understandable in the world of the Aeneid: humans and Gods alike are subject to emotions, irrational and rational. They love, they cheat, they punish, they fear, etc. The logic Augustine imposes on this part of the Aeneas puts his suffering into perspective and makes the matter seem trivial. But further application of this ideal seems dangerously simplistic: at what point does Augustine deem matters unimportant against our faith in God? Also, if Augustine holds Aeneas to Christian standards, can he hold every man, regardless of time and circumstance, to the same standards?
Augustine starts of his Confessions with such ideals that do not allow room for grey areas. Either one is devoted to God or distracted by 'dust.' He then proceeds to condemn theatre as another distraction for God that poses the additional threat of propagating such distraction.
Augustine so worships God because he is responsible for all good things. For instance, Augustine attributes his own positive qualities to Him: "It was your will to endow us sufficiently with the level (of memory and intelligence) appropriate of our age" (12). Augustine claims earlier, however, that God is not only responsible for good but for everything: "You are God and Lord of all you have created. In you are the constant causes of inconstant things. All mutable things have in you their immutable origins. In you all irrational and temporal things have the everlasting causes of their life" (7). This idea that God is responsible for all coheres with the belief that He has created everything, and that we are not wise enough to understand his ways, even if they seem "irrational," "inconstant," or painful (like Dido's death) to us humans. In the Old Testament, Job learns that God is responsible for his pain, but he must ignore it. Similarly, here Augustine advocates disregard for all human interpretation of occurrences, and instead their attribution to a higher plan. It is then confusing why Augustine continuously extols God's benevolence, thanking him for everything such as being "the innermost recesses of my thinking" (16), when God is at the same time the force of everything negative and "irrational." If we should forgo interpretations of life around us and simply attribute everything to God's will, how do we distinguish between right and wrong - how can we even determine what is sinful and what is not?
Augustine's God-centric ideals seem to have the ability to answer all questions with the response, "God willed it." This approach, though perhaps more simple or satisfying than the confusion of emotions and gods and goddesses and fates in Paganism, threatens basic understanding of the world around us and our own feelings.
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