Philosopher - Addendum

While at work on the previous post ranking the episodes of the first season, I came across this hilarious Urban Dictionary entry for "John Locke." Thought I'd share it:

John Locke

1. A charachter [sic] in the tv series lost that is one kickass guy. Part woodsman, part mystical sage, part fighter (suck it charlie) and 100% dude. Even though season two makes him a little sissy b****, you know he's gonna kick it old skool [sic] soon.

2. A philosopher who believed in tabula rasa (clean slate) and anti authority. It is believed from a lot of strong evidence, that this man did not kick so much ass while saying wise things as his namesake tv charachter [sic].

1. John Locke after being told that red shirt people always die in star trek [sic] missions: "Sounds like a piss poor captain."

2. "Every man has a property in his own person. This nobody has a right to, but himself."

Classic.

*Source: http://www.urbandictionary.com/define.php?term=John%20Locke

The Shape of Things To Come

Over the weekend, I worked up the beginnings of two drafts for future posts--a list of my favorite/least favorite LOST characters, and a top 10 list of my favorite episodes. Both may need some refinement as I continue my re-watch, and both contain information that could amount to spoilers for those who have not caught up to LOST Standard Time.

I'm not sure what the best way to proceed would be. I suppose I could start by ranking the episodes of the first season, and encouraging others to submit their lists as well, for comparison. Crowdsourcing!

I guess that sounds like the best way to go. So, here I'll go ahead and throw in my two cents about each of the episodes from Season One. Any such exercise for Season One will be difficult, due to the general format of the episodes, and determining how much weight to place on the competing qualities of the single-episode arc and their significance to the series larger. For example, "Pilot, Parts 1&2" could be considered one of the greatest episodes of television of all time, due to its sheer enormity, the cinematic wonder that is the opening scene and the metaphorical Pandora's Box it opens up, setting the stage for every episode thereafter. On the other hand, the main arc of the episode revolves mostly around fixing and using the transceiver, which proves to be of little consequence to the rest of the series.

Most of the rest of the season's episodes function as introductions to the back-stories of individual characters. All are more or less equal, therefore, in larger purpose, so judgment must be made on the crafting of the storytelling and a fair amount of subjective like or dislike of that particular character. And there is always the conundrum of season finales, which inevitably leave you on the edge of your seat, burning for more. Depending on your personal outlook, this could be incredibly thrilling or incredibly frustrating, and such reactions either way could cloud one's judgment of the episode as a whole. Anyway, let's make our best effort and get to it.

1. "Walkabout"
-As I discussed at length in my post on Locke, this episode is one of my favorites of the series. Locke's backstory is well-crafted and unfolds beautifully, building to one of the biggest reveal moments of the series. A perfect, poetic model for flashback episodes that follow, though none do it quite as well.

2. "Exodus, Parts 1&2"
-I know it's a bit of a cop-out to put the season finale this high, but this one is extremely well done. The convergence of all of the impending conflicts--the alleged coming of the "Others" and the black smoke, the launching of the raft and approaching monsoon season, the struggle for dynamite and unveiling of the Hatch, as well as the comedy-drama of the scene at the Black Rock and the juxtaposition of the hopeful departure of the raft against true impending doom on the Island is poetic. The real reason the episode rules, though, is the total WTF moment when the raft is encountered by the mysterious ship of Others. Seriously an epic, jaw-dropping, eye-exploding moment.

3. "Deus Ex Machina"
-It may show my bias to put another Locke-centric episode this high, but again, I think it is justified. Finding the Beechcraft and hearing the mysterious radio transmission is intriguing unto itself. But the true genius is in the absolutely gripping and heart- (or more appropriately, kidney-) wrenching story of Locke's father ruthlessly conning him out of an organ. Brilliant. The sealer is the moment when Locke is pounding on the Hatch, defeated, when the ethereal light shines from below and toward the heavens. Compelling, and rich.

4. "Pilot, Parts 1&2"
-Again, slightly cop-outish, but less so than putting the season finale so high. This was one of the most highly impactful pilot episodes in the history of TV. The classic opening eye shot, the immediate jump to the chaos of the crash scene, brilliantly set up and filmed. The other snippets of foreshadowing I find less amazing--the polar bear, the "monster," Charlie's heroin issues--but the moment of Sayid's recognition that the French woman's distress call has been on loop, unanswered, for 16 years, is chilling.

5. "All the Best Cowboys Have Daddy Issues"
-Jack's flashback storyline of struggling with a decision to rat out his father for malpractice, essentially ending his father's career, is compelling and emotional. On the island, the revealing of Ethan in the storm and then his manhandling of Jack is shocking, scary and awesome. I am less impressed than others with the heart-pounding scene when Jack revives a hanged Charlie by beating on Charlie's chest and rather prefer the dialogue between Boone and Locke while on the hunt. I especially like when Boone describes his feeling like a red-shirted ensign from Star Trek, explaining to Locke that on the old show those insignificant figures were always lost to dangerous missions led by the heroic captain. Locke's reply: "Sounds like a piss-poor captain." And, of course, the ultimately important development is the discovery of the Hatch.

6. "Numbers"
-Hurley, apparently, has my second-favorite flashback story. It is probably the case that such a preference is based on my personal liking of the character and the actor who portrays him, Jorge Garcia. I care less about the events that Hurley thinks occur due to his "curse" and more about the story of how he came to the numbers and what they mean. Generally, the setting of a mental asylum as a place from which significant information comes is a tired technique for fiction, but it still works for this story. It's really the sheer weirdness of the idea of the numbers and the intrigue posed by figuring out their true nature, which is continued throughout the series, that makes this episode appealing.

7. "Confidence Man"
-Sawyer's backstory is interesting. This episode provides insight into how he used to operate, his trade, and also reveals his first moment of real humanity, calling off his con when the couple's son walks in. That, of course, foreshadows the revealing the true source of his torment, when Kate reads his letter. The torture sequence with him, Sayid and Jack is appropriately disturbing and gritty. We see the entire complex aura of Sawyer in this episode, from vile manipulator to vulnerable victim, nails-tough misanthrope to charismatic charmer.

8. "Outlaws"
-As I was writing this list, I had this episode much lower, but after going through nearly the entire exercise, I moved this up at least five spots. I think the main reason I initially had it so low is the heavy-handed metaphor of the boar that Sawyer chases, the demon he is trying to exorcise. Meh. Upon re-examination, this truly is a formative episode, as we witness the very powerful scene from his childhood that changed Sawyer's life forever, from his perspective under the bed. But it's really two other scenes that are iconic to me from this episode--the drinking game he plays with Kate, revealing their similar rough-and-tumble pasts, and the flashback to Sawyer sitting in the Sydney bar with Jack's father, a mental realization Sawyer makes at the end of the episode. As for seeing Sawyer being conned into killing the wrong man, I don't like it much other than the poignancy inherent in realizing that it was Jack's father who ultimately gave him the last push to pull the trigger.

9. "White Rabbit"
-I also originally had this episode lower, but similarly, upon re-examination, it became tighter and more pleasing. I think it initially was Boone's lameness in stealing the water and his lifeguard FAIL that turned me off. Matthew Fox (Jack) turns in a better performance here than I originally gave him credit for. And the mysterious appearances of his father are creepy and interesting, though Jack's tumble down the hill and clinging to a root off the edge of the cliff is silly. Of course, it is significant that Locke appears, angelic above, to save him, and later to encourage him to "finish what he started." Finding his father's coffin empty is also an interesting point. The culmination in the famous "live together, die alone" speech is ok, but a little corny too.

10. "Raised By Another"
-The on-island action of this episode takes a different slightly pace from the previous episodes, more to a pyschological thriller, with Claire's (imagined? real?) attacks, and the ultimate revealing that Ethan is not one of them. The real winner of this episode, though, is Claire's backstory and the ultra-creepiness of psychic Richard Malkin. This storyline has never been flushed out to the extent that I'd hoped, but perhaps it will resurface in some way in the final season.

11. "Tabula Rasa"
-The revealing to some of the other LOSTies that Kate is the criminal paired with her backstory with farmer Ray Mullen is generally a nice match. More importantly, we see the beginnings of the bonds formed between Jack and Kate, Michael and Sun, and Locke and Walt. I don't care for the mini-arc of Sawyer's failed attempt to euthanize the marshal and Jack's being forced to finish the job, though it is significant in pitting those two against each other. I also like the unspoken explanation, later flushed out, that Sawyer possibly missed with his shot due to his hyperopia. The most significant conversation, which set off rampant blogosphere theorizing that the LOSTies were in purgatory, or heaven, or hell, is between Jack and Kate, when he tells her, metaphorically, that they all died in the plane crash. The closing, hopeful montage featuring Joe Purdy's "Wash Away" is a nice, if classic, J.J. Abrams touch.

12. "Solitary"
-This episode, clearly, is most significant in introducing Rousseau, the first character seen on-island whom we know is not one of the survivors. This obviously makes her a point of intrigue, and Sayid's torturer past makes a nice counter-story, but in all, I was less moved by this episode than others. It makes the top twelve for its significance to the series larger.

13. "Whatever The Case May Be"
-Kate's flashback in robbing the bank is New Mexico is truly well-done, and took me off-guard the first time I watched it. If I was drawn in more by the action on-island in this episode, it would rank higher on this list. I remember watching this initially and finding the struggle for guns off-putting and Kate's obsession with the toy plane trite. There are some nice scenes, namely the comedic interlude of Sawyer's struggles to open the case and the clever interplay between Kate and Jack in retrieving the key from the buried marshal. The ending with Rose and Charlie adds an aftertaste of stale cheese.

14. "Hearts and Minds"
-It's a little amazing that a storyline prominently featuring Boone and Shannon isn't in the lowest level of the basement for me, as both of them are fairly lame characters. But this story actually made me feel for the first time something other than ambivalence toward Shannon. Of course, that feeling is near-hatred for her when she cons Boone out of $50k. The better part of the episode is Locke's friggin' sweetness in forcing Boone to hallucinate, again showing his divine, sage awesomeness.

15. "...In Translation"
-This is the bookend to the earlier episode "House of the Rising Sun," which is even lower on this list. I like this one better for providing context to the scene, shared between the two episodes, when Jin comes home to Sun frazzled, angry and bloody, now seen to come after he "delivered a message" for Mr. Paik. On island, Sun finally reveals to Jin that she can speak English, to save his life, ultimately leading to their split. I find this almost wholly unmoving, as she could have done it sooo long ago and avoided further conflict between her and Jin, and among Michael, Jin and her. The ending with Sun venturing into the water freely in just a bikini is fine, but just way too straight-out-of-The-Awakening for me. Once again, Locke, briefly, shows his awesomeness in both counseling Shannon to get over Boone and revealing to Walt that he knows Walt actually burned the raft.

16. "Born To Run"
-This episode is technically well-crafted, with several mini-storylines wound through it that are tied up neatly at the end, but all of them failed to reach me on a personal, emotional level. The time capsule scene and hospital tragedy including Kate's ex, Tom, just doesn't get there for me, leaving me mostly with a distaste for Kate, when I should be feeling poetic sympathy. On island, I find Kate and Sawyer's struggle to get the last spot on the raft petty and uninteresting. The closest thing to interesting drama comes when it is revealed Sun poisoned Michael, accidentally, in trying to prevent Jin from leaving. Again, it's just so-so for me.

17. "House of The Rising Sun"
-This is the ultimate episode in establishing Sun's lameness to me. It shows the dramatic scene of Jin coming home, bloodied, with the reason why later revealed in "...In Translation," and that is fine. But the fact that she was ready to leave her apparently abusive husband at the airport and changes her mind because he shows her a flower is ultra-lame. Again, she could have avoided the meteorically insignificant Jin-Michael battle over a watch by simply revealing that she can SPEAK ENGLISH! I think the scene when she finally does so in "Translation" might have been better if we, the audience, didn't already know she could. What is significant and good from the episode is the discovery of "Adam and Eve." What is further lame is Charlie re-emerging as a "serious artist" (gag) and the conflict over going to the caves because some people don't want to leave the beach and the possibility that a boat comes. Why don't you just post people there to tend a signal fire in shifts? Wow, that was difficult.

18. "Do No Harm"
-While I do kind of like the scene between Jack and his father at the hotel pool on his wedding eve, the whole Jack's marriage thing doesn't touch me in any significant way. His wedding vows, ending that 'he didn't fix his wife, she fixed him' is especially stomach-retching. I was similarly unmoved by both Boone's death and Say-annon's romance. The juxtaposed medical-drama scenes of Jack trying to save Boone with his own sweat and blood with Claire's giving birth is ok. But the ending with Jack's indignant rage against Locke, calling him a "murderer," is ultra-lamezore.

19. "The Greater Good"
-The flashback story with Sayid being forced to turn on his terrorist friend, though predictable, is decently powerful. The actor portraying the naive, unstable friend puts in a very notable performance. It is poetic that the reason Sayid is on flight 815 is because he had to take a later flight to claim his friend's corpse, but in all, it really just left me feeling sad. On island, the action quickly devolves into a hate/doubt fest against Locke, which, as you can probably guess, I find irritating. It is reminiscent to me of every episode of House, M.D., when it is patently clear that House, as always, is right, yet everyone else stupidly doubts and tries to thwart him, before eventually having their faces drenched with several omelets' worth of egg.

20. "Homecoming"
-The most prominent theme of this episode is that Charlie is an idiot. The flashback shows him being an idiot. On island, he once again proves his idiocy. I am left wholly unmoved by a flashback which might else have been ok because of the fact that the object he steals from his innocent victim is, idiotically, THE MOST obviously prominent piece in her father's entire collection. He then proceeds to ruin a perfectly good scene when Sayid, Jack, Kate and Sawyer trap and subdue Ethan by idiotically shooting and killing him. Revisiting he and Claire's revolting peanut butter fetish at the end is unnecessary.

21. "Special"
Despite its being well-received by critics and significant foreshadowing, I find this episode boring and unpleasant. Harold Perrineau, portraying Michael, is struck with another flare-up of his chronic overacting condition. On island, Michael is again shown to be stupid, far-looking and unobservant, coming down on Locke again for being around Walt. The polar bear scene is made farcical by the cartoonish appearance of the CG animal. It is stunning, though, when Claire emerges from the jungle.

22. "The Moth"
-This is a mostly throwaway episode, showing Charlie's initial delving into the world of illegal drugs. It does an ok job at establishing his initial innocence, but I feel no sympathy for his own stupid actions later. While Locke is again shown to be friggin' sweet in his counseling and rehabbing of Charlie, the metaphor of the moth and cave-cocoon is absolutely overbearing. And I do not think that Charlie's "saving" of Jack from the cave is redeeming for his earlier childish, annoying tantrum, which causes the cave-in to begin with. Entirely forgettable.

*Image credit: http://xfe.xanga.com/3f4c16e233233146716650/z108848393.jpg

The Philosopher

This is the first of what surely will be several LOST-related posts in the near future. So, sorry to those who may feel marooned by such trivial talk.

Pops' last post delved into the underlying religious (mostly Christian) themology that informs much of the first season, specifically the idea of redemption and John Locke's role in that metaphysical mix.

As I briefly addressed in a post from my early LOSTie days, the first season contains much unmistakable and familiar Christian themology in some episodes (The Moth is a particularly clear example.) I originally found such reliance on overwrought literary technique a little annoying, though certainly not unbearable. Upon rewatching, it seems even less annoying, with the foreknowledge about how the concept of spirituality is addressed with increasing sophistication as the show moves through more seasons. Undoubtedly, one of the central figures in driving the spiritual element of the show is John Locke (Man of Faith, see season 2 episode 1).

This is just one reason why I find Locke to be one of, if not my number one, favorite character. I suppose I must explain my rationale for judging characters in the context of the show. For starters, I think how we view characters on the island is determined by both their actions on the island and what we learn about them from their respective flashbacks. Both parts must be there, though I'm not sure which aspect is more important.

Locke is awesome on both accounts. He is shrouded in duality, which in a show similarly shrouded in duality, makes him particularly compelling. From his earliest appearances, he is shown to symbolize two-sided conflict, and the difference between his off- and on-island selves adds to his mystique. In "Pilot, Part 2," the writers immediately establish Locke's duality, in his scene explaining to Walt under the auspices of backgammon that "There are two players. One side is light, and one side is dark." As we see throughout the series, the black vs. white motif is prevalent. The scar over his right eye is also a clear symbol of his dual nature.

He soon establishes his value and badass-ness on the island. He displays unshakable confidence and calm under the most harrowing of circumstances, a quality which I find among the greatest of humanity, both in fiction and real life. This places him in a role of quiet leadership, apart from both the panicky state of the other survivors and from Jack's frenetic drive to fix everything around him. An interesting sight-symbol I picked up on upon second viewing was the juxtaposition of he and Shannon in the crash scene. Shannon, a healthy and normal girl, stands, paralyzed by fear, whereas Locke, who only minutes early was actually paralyzed, is level-headed and almost immediately at peace with his earth- and life-shattering surroundings.

Though many dwell on his seeming awkwardness around the other survivors, I tend to see his actions toward them as, generally, magnanimous. He hunts and finds food for them. He makes Claire a cradle for her baby. He helps Charlie kick his heroin habit. He helps Walt and Michael find common ground, and he nourishes what he sees as Walt's 'special' abilities. He takes Boone under his wing when Boone is seen by most of the others as childish. Of course, he also clubs Sayid over the head, ruining what at that point seems like their best shot at rescue, and is unafraid to quibble with the other de-facto leader, Jack. He is dual to the core.

Off-island, Locke's backstory is so compelling because it is filled with emotional humanity and also because his old self stands in such distinct opposition to his on-island self. He fully takes advantage of the "Tabula Rasa" the island affords him.

It is no coincidence, I think, that the writers gave him one of the earliest flashback episodes, including one of the earliest and biggest revelations, or "holy-s***" moments, in the fourth episode, "Walkabout." The episode is still one of my favorites. It establishes the pathetic nature of his life, showing him being berated by his loser boss, Randy, at his loser job, filing TPS reports at a box company. He also is shown arguing on the phone with a woman, who is presumably an adult phone line operator, and we get the impression as he sits in his dingy apartment, that she is one of his few social contacts. Of course, the big reveal is when he is in Australia, at the Walkabout company, and shown to be wheelchair-bound.

As we learn even more about him, (see episodes 1.19, "Deus Ex Machina"; 2.17, "Lockdown"; 3.3, "Further Instructions") we see that his life off-island appears to be little more than a series of tragedies, with Locke being manipulated again and again by others for whom he feels love, admiration or sympathy. Almost as if his sole purpose in life is merely to serve as a pawn in some cosmic chess match.

All in all, the greatest judgment of a man is how he is viewed by and interacts with his fellow man. Off-island, he is tragic, pathetic, needy, dependent upon others to fill the emotional void in his life. Post-crash he is self-assured, spiritually and physically renewed, a leader of others, a divine creature.

In the words of John Donne, "no man is an island, entire of itself." But when self and island converge, the result can be magical.

**Image from wikipedia: John Locke, Philosopher.

Alpha and Arizona

I have made what I think to be a major, two-part, breakthrough in understanding LOST and one of its most important and mysterious figures. It is not necessarily a fully developed theory, but I think most will agree it is almost certainly a major corollary to the philo-mythological arc of the show. WARNING: This should only be read after viewing the entirety of season 5. I've put my thoughts online in .doc form here. You must wait about 5 seconds, then a blue link will appear that says "Proceed to File Download Page." Click it, then click the "Download file" button to see it.

UPDATE (3:39): This link is apparently non-functional now. I will try to do some fixing.

UPDATE (5:14): Try it now.

What a Dump

I just now got the chance to upload some of the photos I had on my phone. I'll display them on this post for you all to see, subjects varying. Let's begin with

Culinary Adventures

Baked Rotini and Cheese

Strawberry-Apple Tart (whole)

Strawberry-Apple Tart (piece, with vanilla-pomegranate swirl frozen yogurt)

PetSmart Kittums

Curious Kittum

Coy Kittum

Careful Kittum

Comforting Kittum

Hugs

Ron and Colleen (how are these two not an item, seriously?)

You can tell she loves this

Welcome Back

Rachael's window, mysteriously broken upon return from lunch

Please leave any questions/comments about the pics in the comments section.

Fat Day

Good Day to all, especially to all fathers. It's about 2 in the afternoon here, and I'm sure we've all sent, said or otherwise expressed our Father's Day greetings to those who have rightfully earned them. I chose an e-card with a clever animation spelling out words on a crossword puzzle. I thought it awfully appropriate for Pops Armstrong, an avid puzzle-wiz.

Also, not necessarily in recognition of anything, other than the fact that I had about a half pound of strawberries in my fridge getting ready to turn, I decided to make an experimental strawberry-apple tart. I pulled a quick and easy (though still messy) tart dough recipe off the web and improvised a filling of said strawberries and the only other type of fruit I had on hand, apples. The baking is done. I have not tasted it yet, so I cannot tell you if it succeeded in execution. But I can tell you the oven succeeded in heating my apartment up to an unbearable temperature.

To aid in the concluding of my first issue and to temporarily escape the other, I decided to head to the grocery store to pick up some vanilla ice cream to go on top of the tart (I took a picture of the tart on my phone but have not uploaded it to my PC yet. Perhaps, if I remember, I will later.) It was on the drive home from the store that I saw a greeting on a familiar chain restaurant's sign that would put to shame any words I could write or say to honor the fathers on their day, promising more than even my tasty tart could deliver.

The sign outside of Golden Corral, you see, was missing half its lights, burnt out. What I presume the intended message was supposed to read was: "Father's Day Endless Buffet."

What it did say was: "Fat Day End Buff."

They apparently are offering an all-day gorge-a-thon for all the hard-working fathers out there, while promising that all said eaters will end the period in fantastic physical shape. A perfect gift. Sorry we're not closer together, Pops, I'd like to challenge their claim.

The Literature of LOST

Even though my previous literature-themed post has proven powerless in prompting proper repartee, I'll follow it up with another. It really combines two of my more enjoyable topics to post about, literature and LOST. This show, more than any other I've watched, weaves together not only a brilliant independent storyline but also deft symbolism, allusion and straight intertextuality with lots of different works form the literary canon. The Simpsons has traditionally done of good job in referencing (or parodying) specific works over the arc of an episode, but that is clearly more of a cartoon-sitcom than a series with any kind of overarching storyline.

Among the more recognizable works clearly alluded to (and noted by lostpedia) are Alice's Adventures in Wonderland, Stephen King's Dark Tower series, Lord of the Flies, Dickens' Our Mutual Friend, Slaughterhouse-Five, The Wonderful Wizard of Oz, the Bible (of course) and numerous others that lend smaller bits of themology to specific episodes via episode titles (Through the Looking Glass, Catch-22, A Tale of Two Cities) or through characters being shown reading them (Carrie, The Brothers Karazamov, Watership Down).

A thorough analysis of how each of these titles fits into the larger literary world of LOST is more like the stuff of a master's thesis (one I wouldn't mind trying to use), but this post on a more superficial level will examine just a few of them.

As you know from previous posts, I've read several of the aforementioned titles, so I'll focus mostly on those, trying to do so without spoiling any future episodes for those who haven't gotten that far into the series yet.

The most obvious intertextual partner, even to people who've never seen an episode of LOST, would be Lord of the Flies. I think it's impossible for anyone to produce of creative work about castaways without at least some surface-level references to William Golding's masterwork. It is iconic, ubiquitous, plainly clear and, clearly, plainly good. Elements of the series evident even from the earliest episodes echo LOTF--the mysterious and unseen "monster" and Sawyer's references to going "Lord of the Flies" or "wild" in comparison to Jack's urges to create a peaceful society among the survivors, and rampant wild boars. LOST's storycrafters, though, have done a good job of resisting the urge to make mere, clear correlations in their references. For instance, Locke exhibits characteristics of LOTF's Jack--enjoyment and skill at hunting, a hinted-at dark side that could burst at any time (see backgammon pieces, eye scar), and later leading a rift in the group and crating a separate camp, yet also shares many traits with LOTF's Simon--an innate, peaceful connection with the island, pseudo-divinity, a secret retreat on the island away from others (the hatch). Jack Shepard shares his first name with LOTF's resident representative of the id, but exhibits more similarities with Golding's Ralph, the do-gooder, de-facto leader who wishes to keep the group together under the auspices of civility. Even Sam'n'Eric, the virtually identity-less twins of LOTF are hinted at in the ambiguous duo of Scott and Steve on LOST. The parallels of themes of technology and society and the human psyche are more complex and deeper.

Sticking with a time span of only the early part of the first season to avoid spoilers, the other clear partner so far is Alice's Adventures in Wonderland. Casually, the entire experience of coming, or being transported in some way, to the mysterious, physics-defying and magical island parallels Alice's entering her fantastic world. Season 1's fifth episode is titled "White Rabbit," a clear reference to the animal that Alice Follows at the onset down the hole to enter Wonderland. In LOST's case, the clearest parallel is the appearance of dead (undead? reanimated? hallucination?) Christian Shepard, Jack's father, on the island whom Jack chases, eventually, to the caves. It is there that Jack wishes to make a new camp, for its shelter and fresh water supply.

Past that, it will be difficult to discuss much more without getting into spoiler territory. So, for those of you watching or re-watching episodes, please note on this blog or blogs of your own any literary points that strike you throughout the course of the show. I could talk (or write) about this stuff all day. If only there had been a "Literature of LOST" course while I was in college...

Image from wikipedia.

Fighting Words

In the past few months I've been trying to catch up on my reading of the "classics" of American literature. I've found that once people learn you majored in English, you often are expected to be well-versed in all such works. Unfortunately, in my case, I was a fairly disingenuous English major (I like to emphasize the '-writing' part of my English-writing degree, as I generally shunned the traditional American canon--and that of Europe, Asia, Africa or anywhere else, for that matter). In truth, the zenith of my belletristic consumption during those years lay somewhere between back copies of Sports Illustrated and copy from the back of my cereal boxes.

I generally avoided the likes of Baldwin, Steinbeck, Mailer and Whitman, except, of course, in those instances when I was without other recourse (such as my senior seminar that focused solely on the works of only one writer -- Emily Dickinson). To the surprise of some, I received exemplary grades in my literature courses. However, to the surprise of few, such achievement has thus far been of little value in the job market. (That includes my experiences applying to work, in part, for the Emily Dickinson museum and another job for which I interviewed with a hiring manager who wrote her senior thesis on the Nun of Amherst.)

There was one class I particularly enjoyed, ironically titled "Classic Fiction." We took on works such as Lolita, Slaughterhouse-Five and Lord of the Flies. But certainly outside of class, my literary intake was limited.

But now, while I have an abundant amount of free time, a shelf full of unread books and an inkling that pursuing graduate school may linger in my near future, I have decided having a slightly deeper reading repertoire may not be such a bad idea after all.

I started a few months ago with the granddaddy of all American literature, Adventures of Huckleberry Finn. As for a review, I agree largely with Hemingway's assessment of the book, though I don't think it's THE best (but as for what is better, I'm not sure):

All modern American literature comes from one book by Mark Twain called 'Huckleberry Finn.' If you read it you must stop where the N***** Jim is stolen from the boys. That is the real end. The rest is just cheating. But it's the best book we've had. All American writing comes from that. There was nothing before. There has been nothing as good since.

Next I worked through most of an old anthology of short stories from Fitzgerald, Hemingway, Thurber, Barthelme and the like. I liked some of it. Mostly the wittier ones. After that, I delved for the third or fourth time into Catch-22, and this time I did manage to finish it. The first chapter is, unfortunately, a bit like finding the pot of gold before seeing the rainbow. I think that is what thwarted my prior attempts--I was absorbed at the beginning only to have the war-story fold in on itself so many times over its 400-plus pages I just couldn't stomach it. Heller's wordplay, which proves at the onset playful and bouncy, soon becomes tiresome and flat. But over a few weeks, I made my way through it and found the last hundred pages or so, when the storyline begins to move forward again, quite enjoyable.

After that, I took a break from war-torn and forlorn fiction and took up a piece of modern non-fiction, Jon Krakauer's Into Thin Air. A shorter and sparser work, I devoured it in about three days. It chronicles the tragedy that killed more than a dozen people on Mount Everest in 1996. Not exactly light subject matter, but it was told compellingly, and at least the subject was people who put themselves in grave danger by choice, not by draft, as was the case in Heller's work. It is probably the best non-fiction book I've read.

But now, alas, I've been deployed again to wartime writing. I'm about a quarter of the way through Hemingway's A Farewell to Arms, not enough yet to form a real opinion of the story. I'm torn over his writing style. I tend to have a preference for authors who previously worked as journalists, such as Hemingway, Vonnegut, David Halberstam and Mitch Albom. Their literature tends to reflect their news training, with generally simple sentence structure and brevity, yet great aptitude for describing setting and building character, presumably honed by having to make the printed word compelling on newsprint in a limited number of column inches. However, Hemingway's is almost so devoid of any unnecessary words that it is at times halting and less than reader-friendly. We'll see, though.

The original point of this post, actually, was to discuss the large volume of war literature that has become regarded as classic. I suppose, in short, that's due to the range of human emotion felt during war by so many different parties. But that will have to suffice, because I've already written some 800 words and buried the lead. And that doesn't fly in the blogosphere.

*Image from wikipedia.*