isabel's blog

This book was very surreal for me. When I read about their strange encounters, interactions, or sexual "whispering" I did not really think twice since the characters never discussed them either. Also,the narrator described the oddities about their vacation with the same attention to detail that he does the rest of the novel, making them stand out less. So, I blindly accepted them as ordinary even when they were quite the opposite. Only in reflecting on the book after the sadomasochistic slaughter of Colin did I take a more critical look at the book. This is definitely a stretch of a comparison, but I started to think about The Sheltering Sky. How travelers often do not look at the customs or manners of foreign places with a critical eye. I don't necessarily mean critical in a bad way either, but I feel like a typical tourist is not really thinking when he or she absorbs information or people. They blindly accept the way “they”(the foreigners) do things and often think it is better than their own. This reminded of the passage in Bowles The Sheltering Sky because Port states that he defines himself as a traveler, not a tourist, because he picks out parts of the culture he likes and dislikes

Wanderlust, he calls it. And that, it certainly was. The “it” I am referring to is Aaschenbachs sudden longing to travel and stray from the exacting routine of his life as a writer. It is interesting to me that this urge strikes him while walking in a cemetery of all places. I often experience the desire travel or “escape” after seeing a picture of some idealistic location; but for him it occurs for the first time in his adult life at a cemetery. Looking back, it seems to be an ominous foreshadowing to his “death in Venice”; that this spontaneous, obsessive compulsion to travel will ultimately lead to his demise. I also got that sense from the almost diseased, sexual image he has of a jungle-like destination, and from his encounter with the seemingly defiant red haired man. Nothing seems right about this trip he’s going to embark on…

In wandering away from his routine and discipline life, Aaschenbach is searching for something else, but it is something he cannot quite put his highly literate finger on. Perhaps he was in search of obsession? Or obsession for the purpose of inspiration? Lucky or unlucky for him he does finds both in the form of the beautiful fourteen-year-old boy, Tadzio. While his stalking of Tadzio is certainly creepy, I did not think he went to far. He never interfered with the boys life or even so much attempted to approach him.

Further Judging of DaisyAll throughout my reading of Henry James’ “Daisy Miller,” I found myself contemplating how unconscious Daisy was of her “offensive” actions. At times I felt sorry for her since her actions seemed completely inoffensive in my opinion; however, Daisy does show a complete disregard for the culture she is immersed in and dismisses others by labeling them stiff. I made up my mind that she was consciously trying to shock people, even if she did not begin with this intention in mind, when she says to Mr. Winterbourne, “Since you have mentioned it…I am engaged”(58). When I read that I almost heard her childish tone leap off the page through the indignant “am”. True to character, when Winterbourne announces he believes her, she instantly takes it back in a similarly childish fashion. Miss Daisy Miller knew what she was doing and liked the attention she received from others in her high society circle. Whether or not going on walks at night is wrong or not is highly debatable, but it was a very different time.

NomadIn our first class this year we discussed the nature of travel, asking questions about why people decided to leave their city or state or even continent to see other parts of our globe.  Questions about what they can gain from this first hand experience, what motivates them on their journey and about the important difference between a traveler and a tourist.  Perhaps this may add some insight into our queries:

"He did not think of himself as a tourist; he was a traveler.  The difference is partly one of time, he would explain.  Whereas the tourist generally hurries back home at the end of a few weeks or months, the traveler, belonging no more to one lace than to the next, moves slowly, over periods of years, from one part of the earth to another" (6).  

My family and I were in Rome at a time when all I cared about was watching Tom and Jerry. My brother and father would drag me around from museum to museum to view seemingly endless rooms filled with paintings or busts of old emperors. I could not have cared less at the time. On one of these voyages there were lush gardens surrounding the museum so I went to go play in them, thinking it would be a very good idea to jump over the hedges. Turns out, it was not exactly a good idea and in one of my "hedge-jumps" i landed into a ditch and broke my right ankle. While i was in a lot of pain, I knew this would get me out of walking around all day through museums. This made it, not worth it, but slightly more bearable.