George and Martha, an Analysis

While we're on the topic of Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf?, I wrote this for my psych class:

George and Martha present an interesting case.  They are a middle-aged, married couple – George is 46, Martha is 52 – living in the New England college town of New Carthage.  George is a History Professor and Martha is daughter of the university president. 

Martha married George in a fit of infatuation.  Their love has since turned to empty love.  They are committed to each other, but their relationship lacks intimacy or passion.  Neither has romantic feelings or physical attraction for the other.  Martha seeks to vent her sexual desire by pursuing a series of affairs with younger men.  They were originally drawn together by mutual passion, and – on George’s part – a desire to move up in the History department.  They are no forced together by the commitment of marriage. 

Their frustration with this situation has led to increased aggression.  George and Martha cannot have children, which frustrates them greatly.  Martha is also frustrated with George’s failure to move ahead in life.  She calls him a “bog” in the History department to others and uses “swampy” as a nickname when she is talking to him.  Martha’s frustration and aggression also derive in part from the factor of relative deprivation.  As the daughter of the university president, she thinks she should be able to advance her husband in some way even if he were useless; when she compares herself to the other history department wives and to her expectations for herself, she feels intense deprivation.  This leads to aggression.  George is rejected by Martha.  She taunts him and makes him feel less than human.  This breeds aggression in George.  After years of this treatment combined with the mutual frustration of the relationship, George is out for revenge.  On the night this couple was observed, these situational factors were amplified by the disinhibition bred by alcohol consumption.  George and Martha began drinking at a faculty party around 9:00 PM and continued to drink until 4:30 AM.  They had guests over around 2:00 AM.  The lateness of this night also creates physical discomfort – extreme exhaustion –, which amplifies the aggression between the two even further.

This couple will stay married.  It would be unacceptable for them to separate for a variety of social factors.  But they do not address the main source of their frustration.  They have created an imaginary son to replace the one they could not conceive and they use him as a pawn in their mind games instead of addressing the fact that they have created an imaginary child as a crutch.  Martha, an alcoholic, will continue to drink.  George will continue to submit to Martha’s attacks only to vent in a fit of futile catharsis. On the night this couple was observed, George’s attack came when he killed their imaginary son.  Their aggression will continue to grow and perpetuate itself, each attack bringing a counter attack of greater intensity.

Oh Honey...

This is actually an essay I wrote for English class.  The page numbers refer to my copy of the play.  It is relevant for reasons...

Fifty years after it first opened on Broadway, Edward Albee’s Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf? still packs a punch.  One character often relegated to the background even by the others on stage is Honey.  She is in many ways a non-entity.  She does not often participate in the games of George and Martha, and in fact spends a great deal of time in the bathroom being sick.  Honey’s disconnect from the action allows the audience to observe themselves in many ways.  We can watch our experience played out on the stage.  She also serves as a child figure.  She needs caring for and George and Martha use her in the same way that they use their possibly imaginary child.  She is a mirror both for the audience’s experience and for George and Martha’s parenting skills.

            Honey begins the play as a non-entity. Her name in and of itself is a term of endearment not necessarily a name.  There are women out there named “Honey”, but when compared to a name like “Martha” which is definitely a name, it seems inadequate.  Even before we hear her name, Honey is described as “a mousey little type, without any hips, or anything.” (10) When we see her, she does live up to this description.  Her skirt is unflatteringly long, the green of her shirt is unflattering, and her clothes look somewhat too big for her.  This is, of course, intentional, but it really brings out her lack of personality in comparison to the larger than life characters George and Martha.  She is a boxy, mousey type that barely registers in comparison.  As the night wears on, we notice a pattern in Honey’s speech: she repeats.  She often does not add to the conversation instead saying things like “(Idiotically) When’s the little bugger coming home? (Giggles)” (77) She does not register the exchange between George and Martha which hints at troubles to come regarding the existence of their son, but instead repeats “idiotically” a question George posed.  Honey knows the others do not notice her.  After George introduces the fake gun, Honey says, “(Wanting attention) I’ve never been so frightened… never.” (63) Honey has to repeat herself to register to the other partygoers and even then they do not acknowledge her.  In response to this, she retreats within herself.

Honey’s withdrawal and quietness allow George and Martha to paint a picture of the kind of parents they would be on a living, breathing human.  Honey’s removal from the games makes her very childlike; her nondescript personality translates to a kind of innocence.  She is not an innocent and she is not a child; but George and Martha exercise their power over her as though she were a pawn between them, which, because she is younger than both of them, renders her their child and their plaything.  George brings up her hysterical pregnancy in a game called “Get the Guests” (156) to get his revenge on Martha for humiliating him.  George does so in a horrible way without regard for Honey’s feelings.  Her hysterical pregnancy is horribly embarrassing and emotionally charged.  She responds to the story with “hysteria” (163) “outlandish horror” (164), but George does not care.  He shows no remorse.  He shrugs off the incident saying “The patterns of history.” (165) As readers of the play, we are given to believe that Martha would behave the same way when her parenting is described in Act III.  Both George and Martha use their children and their child figures to their own ends.  George uses Honey to get his revenge and to play his own game.  Martha, according to George, acted the same way with their son.  Since Martha’s recriminations indicate that George was guilty of the same games when their son was involved, we as readers have reason to believe that the game of Get the Guests is indicative of the games George and Martha played on their child.  Honey’s apparent, childlike withdrawal allows them to show the audience.

            Because of her character’s detachment, Carrie Coon plays the drunken observer perfectly.  Her performance as Honey balances engagement and withdrawal perfectly.  She withdraws within herself when the other characters ignore her for too long.  However, she does not fully disengage.  Coon peers at the action through slit-like eyes, watching but not involving herself.  In this way, she becomes the audience, albeit a little more intoxicated.  Albee creates a way for the audience to watch itself through the character of Honey.  She calls out “violence… violence!” (151), in many ways asking for a reprieve from the mind games as well as stating the obvious as George and Martha fight physically for the first time.  We as an audience can understand violence.  To a modern audience, it is commonplace.  In 1961 the theatergoers would not be that far removed from war.  Physical aggression is a universal truth.  In the middle of the plan, violence is, in a sick way, a refreshing break from the mind games.  Honey can call out for it, the audience cannot.  Not only is it unacceptable to call out this way in a theater it is also embarrassing; as modern humans, we like to think that we are removed from violence in our daily lives.  To need it is embarrassing.  Yet in this scene we need a break from the mental aggression.  We need violence.  The audience can watch Honey stand on a couch, above the fray, and egg it on and laugh, but secretly that’s what the audience needs.  We know of or know personally abusive relationships where one party is a physical aggressor.  Relationships like George and Martha’s, where the mind games are a part of daily life, are not as familiar.  Seeing this familiar scene grounds us and acts as a breath of fresh air.  But we cannot ask for it.  Honey must do so, and can do so because she is drunk and part of the play.

            Honey’s mousey disengagement allows Albee to show important aspects of the other characters and of humanity as a whole as it is represented by the audience in a theater.  We as audience members can watch two horrible parents play mind games and destroy a younger woman and we can watch ourselves made manifest on stage and released from our inhibitions by brandy.  Honey’s drunkenness turns her into a child and a mirror.  Much of the intensity of Albee’s Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf? derives from the way Albee forces us to engage in the play.  We are Honey.  We are the observer of a wild night of fun and games, sick though they are.  We watch our mirror destroyed by the parenting of George and Martha and we watch Honey call out for the very thing we need.  We can laugh at Honey all we want, but, ultimately, we are one in the same.

Duff Center Symposium 2012: Global Health

For those of you who don't follow me on Twitter, today marked the third annual Duff Center symposium.  The first year, we looked at issues surrounding the BP Oil Spill; last year, we looked at nuclear issues; this year, we looked at global health.  We had an insane number of speakers come this year, so it was great to have such diversity of thought on campus.  Our head of upper school cracked a joke when Jonathan Safran Foer came to visit which I think is still relevant: "The nice thing about having people like this come to GA is that in college you get these same kind of speakers but no one goes.  Here, people do go.  Because it's mandatory."

Our Keynote speaker was Dr. Robert Michler who works closely with Heart Care International (HCI) which is a non-for-profit that brings American doctors and equipment to the developing world to perform pediatric heart surgeries.  One of the many amazing things about this charity is that their patient care statistics match and often improve upon patient care statistics for US hospitals.  What I really liked about Dr. Michler's presentation was the focus he placed on sustainability.  HCI doesn't just pick a country, go there for a few weeks, and leave.  This organization really focuses on training for doctors in the developing world and long term involvement.  They work very closely with governments, the clergy, and local doctors to get the support they need to do the work they need to do.  Recently, they've gotten the funding in the form of the Alison Scholarship to bring local doctors to the states for further training.  One thing they run into in particular is a brain drain.  Many doctors will leave their native countries to practice in the developed world as opposed to staying to work with their communities.  Programs like this encourage doctors to stay and work in their native countries as well as improving on patient care there.  I rarely get excited about these kind of things, but HCI does some really good work in the right way.  They leave a lasting impact and work very closely with the community.  I think it's especially exciting that they work with the clergy since religious leaders can so often be such an important part of a community all across the world.

As for breakout sessions, I attended one that focused on HIV research and one that focused on global health issues in a more local environment.  The session on HIV research was somewhat disheartening.  Retroviruses are scary stuff.  There is some hope - the speaker in that session is working with something called Tetherin which prevents newly formed virus cells from leaving the cell they're formed in - since we understand restriction factors better now than in the '80s when the HIV/AIDS epidemic first appeared on the radar.  But still, scary stuff.  My other breakout session focused on the experience of Dr. Bragg - our speaker - in Elmhurst Hospital in Queens. Elmhurst is the most diverse zip-code in America and it's located near La Guardia and JFK airports, so a lot of interesting cases come through their emergency room door.  They see a lot of crazy things that you don't see in America that often.  To add to my growing germophobia, polio and TB are making a resurgence even in America which is slightly disconcerting.

A lot of interesting work is being done in Global Health.  For more info, I direct you here and to Twitter where you can find the experience of about 12 students under #gasymp.  Enjoy!

Vision or Ass-Hattery?

My school brings an awful lot of interesting speakers to campus.  And, since these assemblies are mandatory, people actually go see these very interesting speakers.
GA kicked off this year's speakers with Jonathan Safran Foer the author of this year's mandatory summer reading: Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close.  And, while he's a good speaker, he's a little full of himself.  Personally, I think he gets to be a little full of himself having had stories published in The New Yorker and in The Paris Review and having become the author of a best seller at 25, but he still seemed a little over full of himself.  Two years ago we had John Irving come to talk to us and he was definitely full of himself, but he's published 19 novels and they're not exactly light weight novels either. He was totally justified in thinking he was awesome.  Foer might have a bit of an inflated opinion of himself.

One of the interesting features of Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close is what I'll call "stylized pages".  By "stylized pages", I mean he includes pictures, pages with one word or one sentence, and pages with so much text that it becomes a black square surrounded by white margins.  It becomes a very quick read.  So I asked him why he had chosen to put pictures in.  There was a Q&A session at the end, so I took the opportunity.  His answer was "because I like it that way".  Hmm...
That was basically his answer to every question that had to do with the book.  He did things because he wanted to.  According to him he wouldn't care if one of his books was a flop because he had published a thing that he liked.  I can't tell if this is admirable or ass-hat-tastic.  On the one hand, he clearly has an artistic vision.  On the other hand, he sounds ridiculously pompous.

Setting that aside, he was quite a good speaker.  He believes in interpretation and the idea that there isn't one right answer about a novel.  I think this is nice since I've had one too many English teacher that presumed to know everything possible about literature. And he told stories that had a point (unlike Mark Salzman three years ago who told stories of his epileptic dog shitting everywhere in his Colorado home) and that were well told.  He was good to listen to and I didn't feel like I wasted my time, which is always nice.

All Roads Lead To Rome…

Saturday September 1, 2012 – ROME, ITALY

This is not a sign that most people pay attention to.

…but some of them are rather circuitous.  If my dad hadn’t asked a conductor if we were on the right train, I would be in Milan right now.  Luckily, we were able to change trains after one stop and get to the right city.

While the mishap with the trains kind of killed the morning, my plan for the day was more or less unaffected. 

Probably one of my favorite museums in the world, The Capitoline Museum sits perched on Capitol Hill.  Its café on the second floor offers some of the best views of the city.  

Inside, the museum is partially built around the ruins of a temple to Jupiter.  If you’re super cheap, you can actually head down to the basement, see these ruins, and have an unparalleled view of The Forum.  The museum even kindly provides signs that tell you what you’re looking at in the forum, so you don’t even have to wait on the massive lines and pay admission to see the site.  

Upstairs, there’s an amazing collection of busts of emperors and philosophers collected with other sculpture and painting.  While I was there, the museum had a special exhibition on called Lux in Arcana marking the 400^th anniversary of the foundation of the Vatican secret archives.  They actually had selected pieces from the secret archives on display.  They had records of votes from conclave, a letter from Hirohito congratulating Pope Pius XII on becoming pope, the last letter from Mary Queen of Scots to Pope Sixtus V, the actual document excommunicating Martin Luther, the transcript from the trial of Galileo and of the Knights Templar, and letters from Abraham Lincoln and Jefferson Davis to Pope Pius IX along with a ton of other stuff.  There was so much church history in those rooms and that’s just the stuff they’re letting the public see. 

In a similar vein, I crossed the border from Italy to The Holy See to see St. Peter’s Basilica.  Midafternoon is absolutely the time to visit; I have never seen the lines so short.  Incidentally, I was there while mass was on, so I didn’t get down into the grotto (the entrance is way up in the front), but the part that wasn’t closed off to tourists still had plenty to see.  I have apparently been obsessed with the Pieta since I was 5 (that’s the story my mother tells, so I don’t know how seriously to take it), but I do know it’s one of my favorite parts of the Basilica.  No matter how many cathedrals I go to, St. Peter’s Basilica never gets old.  Bernini, without a doubt my favorite sculptor, designed the façade, colonnade, and baldachin at St. Peters, so that’s always a highlight for me.

Finally (because it’s open until 7:30), I walked to the Pantheon.  This is my other favorite building in Rome, but that has a lot to do with the fact that I did a paper in sixth grade on roman engineering and spent a lot of time talking about the dome and oculus of the Pantheon.  The Pantheon is kind of plain looking now because it has suffered some heavy looting over the years.  Hadrian had it built to honor all of the gods and it is a marvel of roman architecture.  The brick of the walls is arranged in arches to distribute the weight of the concrete roof.  The roof is freaking concrete, but has square cutouts to help reduce the weight.  The oculus was constructed so as to use the tension around the opening to help keep the roof up.  Not bad for a civilization that approximated pi to 4.  It was turned into a church by the Christian rulers and seems to still hold services.  It also houses the tombs of the first two kings of unified Italy and Raphael.  The latter’s tomb is inscribed with "Ille hic est Raffael, timuit quo sospite vinci, rerum magna parens et moriente mori," meaning: "Here lies that Raphael by whom Nature feared to be conquered while he lived, and when he was dying, feared herself to die".  Or something like that.  My Latin’s a little rusty.

This morning, before heading to the airport, I stopped by the Borghese Gallery.  There are some lovely painting upstairs, but I really go for the sculpture on the ground floor.  Among others (the Borgheses were ridiculously wealthy), the gallery features Bernini’s Apollo and Daphne, David, Aeneas and Anchises, and The Rape of Persephone.  Aeneas and Anchises depicts Aeneas, his father, and his son fleeing the burning Troy.  His father holds the household gods and his son holds the eternal flame; Aeneas is the founder of Latium, later Italy, and the father of the Romans.  The Rape of Persephone is terrifyingly detailed.  Persephone’s skin actually dimples where Hades grabs her and you can see the tracks of two tears on her face.  David, borrowing Bernini’s own face, shows David about to loose a stone from his sling; this was the first sculpture of David to show him in motion.  Finally, Daphne and Apollo (my favorite), depicts the most dramatic and dynamic moment in one of Ovid's stories in his Metamorphoses. In the story, Apollo, the god of light, scolded Eros, the god of love, for playing with adult weapons. In retribution, Eros wounded Apollo with a golden arrow that induced him to fall madly in love at the sight of Daphne, a water nymph sworn to perpetual virginity, who, in addition, had been struck by Eros with a lead arrow which caused her to harshly spurn Apollo's advances. The sculpture depicts the moment when Apollo finally captures Daphne, yet she has implored her father, the river god, to destroy her beauty and repel Apollo's advances by transforming her into a laurel tree.  This particular part of the story features one of my favorite lines in classical literature, roughly translated: “If you will not be my wife, you will be my tree!”  Firstly, great story.  Secondly, hilariously bad translation forced on our class by my evil Latin III Honors teacher.  The Borghese Gallery is one of the best small museums, and I mean small.  It’s 100% worth it to get there at 9AM when it opens because it gets crowded quickly.

That’s the trip.  I’ll be back home in New York soon and I’ll throw these up on the web along with pictures.

In the Shadow of a Volcano, Part 2

Thursday August 30, 2012 – SORRENTO, ITALY

This morning brought me to the shadow of another Italian volcano: Vesuvius.  Quite literally, in fact.  Instead of spending the day in Sorrento and on the Amalfi Coast, I raced up from the port to the train station and caught the Circumvesuviana train to Naples.  While this is actually my third visit to the area, I had yet to visit the Archeological Museum in Naples.  This has a lot to do with the fact that Naples is kind of a scary city, but this museum houses the vast majority of the Pompeii and Herculaneum frescoes and mosaics.

Going to see the mosaics is definitely worth it.  They are some of the best preserved I’ve ever seen.  Most significantly, the Museum (housed in an old Bourbon Palace) features “The Secret Room” which is 100% Ancient Roman erotica. It used to be that you needed special permission from the king to see the room, but now it’s included with admission.  The Museum also houses the Farnese marbles, which are really quite spectacular.

That’s my day.  I wandered around Sorrento for a bit, but I do much since I didn’t get back until about 3 PM because I caught the slow train by accident.  The two Circumvesuviana trains aren’t that different; the DD will get you to Naples in about 50 minutes while the D train will get you there in 80.  It makes a difference, but not a significant one.

The Amalfi Coast and the coastline from Sorrento to Naples combined form the mythic homes of three of the best-known Odysseus myths: Circe, The Cyclops, and The Sirens.  Well, maybe the Cyclops.  It all depends on how you interpret things.  Some scholars think that the Cyclops were metaphors for the volcanoes of this area; an erupting volcano could easily be called an injured, one-eyed giant.  I don’t know how seriously I take that theory.  Personally, I think it’s more likely that the ancient peoples of the area dug up the scull of a dwarf elephant - which kind of looks like it has one eye - and decided that it belonged to an extinct race of one-eyed giants.  

That, by the way, is the other story on the Cyclops.  A little south, you can find the islands of the Sirens.  What’s cool about this area is that the rocks actually sing when the wind blows through them right, so you can totally see how a bunch of tired sailors might be attracted to the song thinking that it belonged to females.  You can also see the sharp pointy rocks that would have spelled their demise.  A little north, you can find the spot that, based on some creative cartography and study of the Odyssey, scholars figure Circe would have lived.  She’s the lady who tricked Odysseus’s men into eating her food and drinking her wine so that she could turn them into pigs for eating with poor manners after being at sea in a boat with only dudes for years.  Odysseus, with the help of a magic potion, resists her charms, sleeps with her, and convinces her to turn his men back into men.  And she does.

That essentially ends my Odyssey stories.  Tomorrow, I’ll head to Civitavecchia, the port associated with Rome.

The Domain of Aeolus

Wednesday August 29, 2012 – LIPARI, ITALY

What’s that?  You were itching for more mythology?  Fantastic!  Because I have more stories to tell and very little actual travelogue content for this post.

Lipari is one of the Aeolian Islands and, quite frankly, there’s not much to do.  The island is small enough to drive around in about an hour and a half and the main town of Lipari features a somewhat difficult to find archeological museum (which was closed when I was there) and a fortress.  The fortress is really quite nice.  It’s free to get in and it offers some lovely views of picturesque towns near by.  If you’re feeling especially cool, go to a deli and pick up some bread and sandwich fixings and take a small picnic to the amphitheater in the fortress.  

However, I would recommend that you find Le Macine.  

They do pizza and they do pizza so right. I had the Arrabiatta and it was pretty damn amazing.  They also serve some pretty amazing post-meal liquors.  There’s one that’s made from cactus fruit, there’s another that’s some kind of melon, and a third that is a terrifying green something.  Don’t drink the green one.

One of the cool things about the itinerary of this particular trip is that it kind of follows The Odyssey.  Last night, we passed through the Straights of Messina, which, in myth, is known as the passage between Scylla and Charybdis.  That’s a story that everyone knows pretty well.  It’s the origin of the phrase “between a rock and a hard place”.  Of course Odysseus didn’t get to chart a course between the two monsters.  Even after choosing Scylla, Poseidon pushed Odysseus’s ship into Charybdis because he’s a dick.  Also because Odysseus poked the eye out of one of his sons Polyphemus and bragged about it, but mostly because he and most of the Greek gods can be real dicks sometimes.

Early on in his trip Odysseus found himself on the island of Aeolus.  With after a little sweet talkin’ Aeolus, god of the winds, decided to help Odysseus get home.  He bundled all of the difficult winds into a bag and gave it to Odysseus with strict instructions not to open the bag.  Naturally, just when Ithaca is in sight, Odysseus’s crew opens the bag while he’s taking a nap and get themselves blown all the way back to the Tyrrhenian Sea.  Moral: don’t nap near untrustworthy people.

Tomorrow I head off for Sorrento, which means the Sirens, Circe, and the Cyclops!  Also the Neapolitan Archeological Museum, but that’s neither here nor there.