Hatin' on Sontag

I decided to do a breakdown of the last persuasive essay in our packet on Susan Sontag's "On Photography" since we did not go over it in class (also I rated the 4 and 7 synthesis essays as 8 and 9 so clearly I need some work on that). The writer of this essay will be referred to as a man named Sue. Firstly, Sue begins his essay with a direct answer to the prompt instead of a hook. It looks more like a thesis, but the real thesis ends the intro. Following the intro, he quotes Sontag and consequently labels her as "dense" (Sue). This statement is supported very well by an analogy of photography to literature (photography : interpretation :: literature : comprehension) that asserts Sontag is missing the interpretation part. Sue's examples of the pictures of the church firebombing, children's suffering, and WWII's end all could serve to refute Sontag's assertion that photographic knowledge will "never be ethical or political knowledge" (Sontag). The only issue is that Sue never directly states his refutation of that lapse in Sontag's assertion; rather he focuses on the feelings side of it that Sontag actually did address. And, although Sue has a great point of photos revealing a finite boundary of the past and present, he only mentions it and follows up with a cliche (not used ironically). So overall I will give it, with much trepidation, a 7.

In any comments, please hazard a guess at the score yourself.

The Value of a Life

John Mueller, Ohio State political scientist, says, "the value of a statistical life turns out to be around $5 million" and when a soldier is killed "the government pays the family $600,000." When considering a human life including all of the potential ideas and capabilities of that person, regardless the true identity of the person, a dollar amount could never be set. How could all of the potential accomplishments be valued when one cannot see the future? Then we involve business and monetary decisions associated with roads and driving. Yes, modern and well maintained streetlights on every single road where a car may drive could prevent accidents and by association death. The other yes that comes with new, ample lighting is that it would be costly. But why don't we call the state official that voted against new streetlights in every neighborhood in Kansas a mass murderer because he believed the budget could not afford for that. Why not just arrest every official debating safety? There is no way to pay for every safety measure when lives priced at $inv,alu,eab.le even if that is what seems right. Should we state the new proposal "50 lives for $500 million?" What would you value your life at? How about a love one's? Then ask yourself who could pay for that and would they? Maybe not.

Richard

During her great party in the book, Clarissa describes happiness when she is near Richard and shows evidence of the bond between them. She mentions Sir William Bradshaw and the sense of dislike she has for him. The only confirmation she has for these negative feelings is that "Richard agreed with her, 'didn't like his taste, didn't like his smell'" (Woolf 183). Through her use of Richard's opinion to back up her own, Clarissa exemplifies how she trusts him and values his thoughts; she and Richard rely on each other. Also, Clarissa notes how she "had never been so happy," and that was "due to Richard" (Woolf 185). It is clear they share a tight bond and although it may not be sexual it is very important to Clarissa. However, this whole relationship is, apparently, much less important in the movie version of Richard and Clarissa. Although Richard is basically incapacitated and Clarissa is fully aware of his plan to open the window and jump out, she refuses to walk the ten feet to prevent his suicide. Rather, she stands there babbling and acting like he is already dead because she is just going to let him jump anyway. Now she can just enjoy her relationship with Sally, only inconvenienced by the fact that she cannot have the party she wanted to have for herself under the cover of a celebration for Richard.

The Hated Hugh

Hugh is constantly referred to as admirable. However, only the women hold Hugh highly (except Sally). Peter, who possesses no negative view of anyone else, notes that those who are "battering the brains of a girl out in a train do less harm on the whole than Hugh Whitbread and his kindness"(Woolf 173).  This bold statement is brutal but does not seem to hold much weight because the concept of kindness causing harm is paradoxical. The men see him as completely priggish, yet a negative effect of Hugh's acts cannot be found. Although I struggle to find the true issue, I suspect that they hold a strong dislike for Hugh because he perpetuates the stereotype of the British upperclassman. (Sally, being a radical, partially resented the rich English society and, therefore Hugh.) His continuance of a rich stereotype explains the reactions of the women including Lady Bruton and Clarissa. All of them enjoy the feeling of high society. Hugh's mannerisms represent that society so their association with him makes them feel accepted in the upper class. For example, the older women at the party end up "thinking themselves quite forgotten," but then they find "dear Hugh driving up and spending an hour talking" (Woolf 173). The metaphor of the women being brought back into the atmosphere of the party by talking to Hugh represents how he makes the women to feel connected with the upper class because he embodies the privileged man with perfect manners and an air of wealth.

Rezia

Regent Park

Lucrezia's lament for her life, page sixty five, pulls details from her surroundings that remind her of everything troubling. When a child "[runs] full tilt into her...and burst[s] out crying," she finds it comforting (Woolf 65). This comfort is short-lived, however, because Septimus will not have a child with her. The motherly nature can only be exercised on children that happen to cross her path and will leave just as quickly as the "child ran straight back to its nurse" (Woolf 65). A positivity associated with caring for the little girl immediately deteriorates into remembrance of Septimus and his refusal: negativity. As though the lack of a child to love is not enough of a burden, the everyday scene of "the broad path, the nurse, the man in grey, the perambulator" forces her to realize her vulnerability (Woolf 65). She is in a foreign country with a husband unable to comfort her despite the fact that it is his domain, not hers. The stress of her life results in a pessimistic mindset at the park, and superficial setting details and common occurrences are transformed into reminders of Rezia's suffering. It reminds me of just having a bad day when the weight of life seems to hang over you like a stalking cloud; nothing relieves without an embrace of optimism. The nature of Rezia's frequent laments leads me to believe she may be the embodiment of Woolf's spells of severe depression. There is no way a person could feel like that in Regent's Park.