Exam, and Beginning African Literature

Entry #15
Work: Final Thoughts on Nō
and Ngũnĩ Wa Thiong'o, The River Between

Tuesday brings the first exam, first midterm of the semester. I will meet with Dr. McCarthy tomorrow morning, and in reviewing the study guide, I see my questions will be many. Keeping track of details has never been my strong point, but I will do my best.

Regarding Nō, I have had some handwritten notes jotted down that I have yet to flesh out here--just a bit more of my rebellion. This idea of the form being primary and that the art would appear where the form was correct -- this is something that makes me cringe every time I read perfectly rhymed, perfectly metered lines of verse that are absolutely atrocious. Like Hallmark cards. Perhaps I'm not disciplined or perhaps I just do not appreciate the idea of boundaries, but in writing, either prose or poetry, I want to break the rules. I like things that break the rules.

And when I have thoughts like this, I have to remember the vision of chaos while meditating and how beautiful and ordered it really was. It was a long time ago (and a long story to tell, if I ever really could) that I saw what I still don't have adequate words to describe, and it was everything I want my free verse to be (or have potential to be) but still possessed, at least upon years of reflection, some sort of framework that kept it within bounds of being.

I digress.

I could not understand what art could emerge within such a strict form. The stage in Nō is identical in each play. The backdrop never changes. Each character and actor has a specific role without much variation. How could art possibly emerge under the thumb of these dictates? It's oppression! I thought. And yet...would we still read it if it was any other way? Would Nō have survived? I doubt it. It survived because of the form, not necessarily because of the art.

I've been reading too much of Bradbury and his charge to aim for truth, not popularity, not literary acclaim, but merely truth, and if there is enough life in the truth, the art will emerge. Perhaps Nō is not so terribly different. This is not 1400 A.D., and in 1400 A.D. perhaps discipline was more important. And, again perhaps, maybe we could possibly benefit from more of the same today. And maybe it's just ego that the artist today feels that s/he is beyond discipline.

I am tired, and it's been a long week of pain and frustration with pain, so I will end this with a few thoughts on The River Between.

I wasn't sure, when beginning it, if I would be able to involve myself in the story. And then, after getting so far, I questioned whether I had the stomach to read it. That's been an issue with some movies and television shows; I can't stand violence, and the coming-of-age circumcision rites in The River... strikes me as very violent. However, during the reading, I have discovered something. I'm only at about the mid-way point, not having the concentration to read long at any one sitting, and I'm detecting a subtext of mother-religion. It's mentioned in the conversation between W & his father, and if it's not brought to the surface by the end of the tale, I think I will write my paper on it. If I choose to, however, I think I'll have to ask Dr. McCarthy if I can expand the paper a bit beyond five pages. Being economical with words is not my strong suit (even more so than ability to remember details).

Till later...