As Steve W posted, the final chapters of Waterland left me with more questions than answers: 1)What is the significance of Dick's death as the last event in the novel? And did Dick actually die? The reader knows what an excellent swimmer Dick is so it seems unlikely he would actually drown. Perhaps it is possible that he would purposely drown himself, but I think he would subscribe to instinct and save himself. After all, we do not receive an account of time for which Dick was underwater before the "rescuing" party left and again, we know Dick is able to remain underwater for a long period of time. Also, Tom states that Dick is "gone" (357). He never states that he has died or drowned. Just as when he was younger and his father informed him that his mother was "gone" (281), the word suggests that the person has "not ceased absolutely to exist but was somewhere very far away, inaccessible, invisible, yet still there" (283). 2)Is the notion that Dick is the "saviour of the world" connected somehow to Mary's abortion and eventual kidnapping, which she claims is "From God. I got it from God" (265). As we've discussed earlier, the fact that her name is Mary is significant. So, when his mother tells Dick that he is the "saviour of the world," does that mean that he would bring a child into this world who would be the actual saviour ... who was unfortunately destroyed? We never do know for sure who fathered Mary's child. Perhaps the abortion of this "saviour" throws the family's world into tumult. When Mary asserts that she got the kidnapped baby from God, she might be confusing the message with an original one from God when she was 16 years old. Yes, it's a crazy idea, but so is the book. Anything's possible. 3)Steve's pondering over curiosity in the novel is ironic. I, too, questioned the importance of curiosity. Like Steve, I believe it's possible that Mary went mad because of her lack of curiosity (which could also be her abundance of knowledge. To know everything could drive a person mad). But I'm not sure if Tom is mad. His constant search for an explanation is what drives him and drives the world. Consider us. We are searching for an answer to our questions about the novel. I'm not sure, but maybe Tom (Swift) is linking The Fall to curiosity. Had Adam and Eve simply remained curious and neglected to eat from the Tree of Knowledge, man would not be a fallen and sinful creature. Curiosity incites man, but once the curiosity is fulfilled with knowledge, all is lost. Again, just a question. Not an answer. Onto something I do know. We talked in class about not having feelings for the characters. I agreed with Professor Berry that this novel does not allow us to like or dislike the characters. Nor does it provoke us to feel emotions about the situations. As for myself, when I discovered that Edward Atkinson and his daughter loved each other "the way a father and a daughter shouldn't," I understood all about Dick and the purpose of all the history lessons. However, I did not feel anything. That said, I do like one character in the novel: Martha Clay. My tradition of appreciating characters whom others may despise or who seem unattractive to the reader, continues with Martha. As with Rogue Riderhood in Our Mutual Friend, I enjoy her slovenliness and quirkiness as well as the somewhat lurid humor she provides. I also enjoy her honesty. She seems to be one of the only characters who is completely honest (followed, perchance, by Dick and maybe Price). She is a no-nonsense, unaffected (in many senses of the word), and formidable creature who is not only honest with others, but also with herself.

The more I read of Waterland, the more I am convinced that history should always be taught in the manner that Tom Crick employs! His personal history, interspersed with the history of the Atkinsons and the Fens seem to only make sense when explained in his non-linear manner. While the story of the Fens and the Atkinsons moves chronologically forward (for the most part), the story of Tom and Mary (as well as the rest of the Cricks) seems to move backward (with exceptions) until the two histories meet. The continual notion expressed by Tom that history moves in circles is perhaps the reason for this intermingling of histories. However, I view the history in this story more as a spiral than a circle, and certainly not the ever popular timeline. This spiral could be what Tom means by "circle"since circle suggests that there can only be one story for each person or group of people that will eventually meet, yet never continue or evolve into other histories. It is an enclosed space where nothing may enter or exit. But a spiral can be infinite and new histories may be created and still look similar. Well, whether I'm geometrically inept or overly philosophical, I've succeeded in utterly confusing myself. Back to the original point of my post... The reason I believe history should be presented in the way Tom relates it is that it makes the story more intriguing and interesting. I must confess that in the early chapters, and in some of the reading for this week, I failed to understand the point of the history lessons--even though the history professor himself had declared how important history is. Upon reading the story of Helen Atkinson and her father, everything I had read previously made sense, as only it could with the knowledge of the history and the way is was conveyed. Beginning in the "Here and Now" and moving backward into history aids in understanding how we (and Tom and his class) relate to the rest of the world. **Please forgive my incoherent and unrealized entry this week. The more I read of this book, the more questions arise whereas I cannot seem to develop a cohesive argument. :) On a somewhat abstract note, this novel calls to mind the film Memento in the method of storytelling. Just wondering if anyone else made the same observation or thinks I'm completely off-base.

As someone pointed out in class Friday, there is so much to write about Waterland that I must choose one topic upon which to elaborate. I find that the subjects of education and schooling are more prominent in this book than in Our Mutual Friend, but rather than compare the two novels, I will attempt to focus on the Swift novel for now. Although I, myself, am typically unable to separate learning from school (as I mentioned in my initial blog), I realize that many feel they receive education through life rather than institution. I find this to be manifest in the character of Tom Crick, who, although he is a teacher and obviously values schooling, nonetheless (thus far) seems to have learned a greater amount through life experiences. Chapter 10, devoted entirely to "the Question Why," is when I began to notice that Tom seems full of contradictions. He claims that learning history is important because it helps to satisfy the search for "explanation" and that by learning history, we "learn from our mistakes so it will be better in future..." Yet, he also claims that we may not come "to an Explanation, but to a knowledge of the limits of our power to explain" and that history "teaches us no shortcuts to Salvation, no recipe for a New World." So, according to the history teacher, the reason to learn his subject is to find answers and learn from the past to create a better future...But these can never be achieved. Perhaps he realizes that it isn't World history (or any to be found in textbooks) which has formed him, disciplined him, enlightened him; but his own personal history and that of the human condition which have educated him most. While teaching his students irrefutable facts about war, dates,people, and their homeland, he simultaneously relays the personal stories of historical figures(i.e. that of Sarah and Thomas Atkinson) and of his own youth. It is through his childhood and adolescent experiences that Tom learns valuable life lessons: those of death, sex, love, and family. He claims that the moment he saw Freddie Parr's body "that I came out of a dream." This represents the "Here and Now", a significant point in life that seems to put things into perspective. The death of his mother (whose stories he misses); the death of his friend and the reality of seeing the body; the burden of knowledge of his brother's involvement in that death; the discovery of his own sexuality; the responsibility of parenthood: such things cannot be taught in a classroom. But Tom tries to teach these things. My question is the question of "Why?"

I thought this apropos considering Wednesday's discussion of Bella Wilfer and The Complete British Family Housewife: I just received a gift of four "Victoria Etiquette Napkins." The rules are taken from "Ladies Etiquette Manuals" from the Victoria Era, specifically the 1850's. They read as follows: 1. Never, while at table, (whether in public or private,) allow yourself to talk on painful or disgusting subjects. Avoid all discussions of sicknesses, sores, surgical operations, dreadful accidents, shocking cruelties, or horrible punishments. A love of such topics, evinces a coarse and unfeminine mind. It is rude in gentlemen at any time to introduce them before ladies; and a polished man never does so. Political and sectarian controversies ought to have no place there. Shakespeare truly says, "Unquiet meals make ill digestion." 2. If the conversation is general, speak loudly enough to be heard by those around you, but at the same time, avoid raising your voice too much. If the company is very large, and you converse only with the person immediately beside you, speak in a distinct, but low tone, that you may not interrupt other couples, but carefully avoid whispering or a confidential air. Both are in excessively bad taste. To laugh in a suppressed way, has the appearance of laughing at those around you, and a loud, boisterous laugh is always unlady-like. Converse cheerfully, laugh quietly, but freely, if you will, and while you confine your attention entirely to your neighbour, still avoid any air of secrecy or mystery. 3. Should you chance to be extremely incommoded by some extraneous substance that has gotten between your teeth, you can remove it unperceived, by holding up your napkin or handkerchief before your mouth, so as to effectually to conceal the process. When you take any thing out of your teeth, do not make the persons who are near you sick, by laying the disgusting particle on the side of your plate; but conceal it immediately. Still, nothing but "sheer necessity" can excuse any teeth picking at table. 4. Sit gracefully at the table; neither so close as to make your movements awkward, nor so far away as to drag your food over your dress before it reaches your mouth. It is well to carry in your pocket a small pincushion, and, having unfolded your napkin, to pin it at the belt. You may do this quietly, without its being perceived, and you will thus really save your dress. If the napkin is merely laid open upon your lap, it will be very apt to slip down, if your dress is of silk or satin, and you risk the chance of appearing again in the drawing-room with the front of your dress spoiled or greased. No wonder Bella became so dull and aseptic; she was trying to retain such elaborate instruction! In searching for more information on these types of manuals, I found that about one-quarter were written by women, while the rest were penned by male authors. I suppose I was not surprised from this information (although since many were written by men, it seems to promote misogyny among a society). However, I did find that there were many manuals and rules published for men also. And I deduce that women who wrote such things were merely following the expectations of their society rather than succumbing to a male dominated culture. I do, however, wonder what Dickens' standpoint is on women place in society. I reject the notion that he was biased against women. Rather, I think that he may have been satirizing a public view of a woman's place in society and emphasizing the absurdity that a married woman must relinquish her individuality and surrender to convention. Just a thought...

After perusing the blog entries of my fellow students and finding that my original perceptions of Book IV had been so eloquently expressed by Robyn, I resolved myself to indite some supplementary observations. I had not expected Our Mutual Friend to conclude in so tidy a manner. As Robyn points out, most characters assemble into lovely little perfect pairs by the end of the novel. Obstacles have been overcome, secrets have been unveiled, and dreams have been fulfilled. In previous books, the reader encountered transformations (for better or for worse) in Mr. Boffin, Bella Wilfer, and Bradley Headstone. In Book IV, as is typical in the final stages of a novel, all is resolved. Mr. Boffin, whose character had become compromised in my eyes, reveals that he was merely assuming a miserly man demoralized by money. He retains his good nature and has a small fortune to boot. Bradley, as the reader discovers, is innately evil and receives his just desserts as he meets his death through his own volition (unfortunately taking the life of Riderhood as well--who had endeared himself to me). Bella abides by her enlightened attitude that allowed her to seek love over money. As a result, she is ultimately rewarded with a devoted husband, loyal friends, and of course, scads of cash! In the final book, and toward the end of the novel, another kind of transformation takes place within the lives of two characters. The reader encounters some sort of self-reformation in Eugene and Mortimer. Through is love for Lizzie, and perhaps as a result of his near death experience, Eugene acquires a new understanding of life. He discovers a pride for his humble bride and shuns society. This, he passes on to Mortimer, who, in the end, ponders who that "Voice of Society" might be. Yet he refuses to succumb to the artifice of his former circle, leaving them to wallow in their odious opinions and self-aggrandizement. In a humble attempt to replicate Dickens, I would like to add a Postscript in reference to my aforementioned partiality to Riderhood. Upon first meeting Riderhood in Book I, I was rather amused by his mannerisms and internal estimations of Eugene and Mortimer. While reading Book IV, I deduced that Riderhood was a very keen and clever "rogue." However uneducated, he nearly succeeded in defeating Bradley at his own game. From his careful observations of "T'otherest" in the Lock House, to following Bradley's shifty movements and the deftness with which he exploits the teacher in front of his students, Riderhood proves to be much more astute than he lets on. Again, I was sad to see him go.

Book III culminates as the book in which many characters are either exploited or exploiting. As might be expected of characters of a higher social status, they prey on those less fortunate to further their own agendas. As Keren mentions in her blog for Book II, the reader has previously encountered many characters exercising control over "weaker" characters. Now, that control has been taken to a new level as the characters use any means necessary in order to attain that which they desire. One instance of these exploitations occurs between Eugene Wrayburn and Jenny Wren's father (Mr. Dolls). In an attempt to locate Lizzie, Eugene admittedly, "by any means, fair or foul," (530) undertakes the task of finding the object of his affection. Following through on his promise, and much to the protest of his dear friend, Mr. Lightwood, Eugene proceeds to aid Mr. Dolls in becoming inebriated to such a point that the latter will confess to the young woman's whereabouts. Although the reader has seen Eugene expose his dominating egotism, this new obsession generates the disdainful behavior he exhibits in his resolve to possess the young woman. Bradley Headstone's intentions are quite in accordance with those of Eugene. He, too, seeks out the reticent Lizzie Hexam. And in doing so, like Eugene, Bradley manipulates the less fortunate Rogue Riderhood. Although Riderhood seeks him out, Bradley nonetheless takes full advantage of the opportunity to elicit information from the "honest man." Aware that Riderhood "was a bad man, and willing enough to be in his pay," and also aware of his previous connection with Lizzie, Bradley questions him on her whereabouts, knowing full well that his own intentions "were as bad as bad could be." (542). Like Eugene, his adversary, Bradley determines to employs any means necessary to the young Lady. The last case of exploitation is one that perplexes me, for I do not yet know who is exploiting whom. The triangle of Wegg, Venus, and Boffin is complicated indeed. No one is to be trusted as it seems false unions are being made. I believe Venus to be playing both sides at this point, using Wegg to exploit Boffin and vice versa, although I have yet to discover the motive behind his actions. I would presume money to be the pivotal cause of his actions, but I believe Venus to be driven by a more malicious force.