I was browsing the internet when I found (I don't remember how) an article called "Don DeLillo's Libra: History as Text, History as Trauma" by Leonard Wilcox (you can find the full text via a search of online databases through the Illinois library site). I remember thinking that this seemed perfect for History as Fiction. There are many interesting ideas raised by the article, but a few specific ones struck me. One was that the event which DeLillo was working with -the Kennedy assassination- was one of the first truly postmodern events in history. This makes sense in some ways. A man, previously unknown to most, shoots a gun from the window of his workplace and kills a man passing in a car. Probably makes the local paper. But wait. The man who was shot happens to be the president of the United States. Now it's international news. Jack Kennedy has been shot and killed in a motorcade in Dallas, Texas. It startles many people, particularly because much of America loved him and he was being relatively successful in office so far.
Another thing the article pointed out is that Lee Harvey Oswald is not a figure in history without the media portrayals. The newspaper articles are all we typically get of him and his life. Because of this, he is fairly unknown as a person and as what we typically think of a s a developed character. Therefore, DeLillo had little material to work with when he was writing Libra. Or, rather, he had a lot of leeway (no pun intended) in constructing a character for Lee Oswald. What DeLillo does, then, is make Lee a character who strives to be an important person, without really being one until he assassinates Kennedy. Lee's written history is just the fact-based fiction created by the media, so DeLillo builds a fictional history around it. That right there is some historiographic metafiction, a term coined, according to the article, by Linda Hutcheon to describe Libra. This is done as well with the actual events of November 22.
The article cites Slovoj Žižek with saying that truth can not truly be represented or symbolized, but that cannot truly capture the full truth without letting some creativity come in. Therefore, no historical narrative is the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth, undermining both the judicial system and the Warren Report. DeLillo knows this. Libra is not meant to be truth, necessarily, or to be taken as a legitimate conspiracy theory. DeLillo just uses Libra to make readers confront the ambiguity that surrounds the assassination of JFK. We as readers can be strung along, not with suspension of disbelief necessarily, but with the idea that maybe there's truth in it, for a whole novel just to wonder, is any of this real? We have to go look up what is factual and what was DeLillo's imagination. This means Libra was successful. It proved to us that the ambiguity is real, that it could cause us to question the truth. It proved to us that history and fiction are not that far away from each other when ambiguity comes into play.
Article:
http://eds.b.ebscohost.com/eds/pdfviewer/pdfviewer?vid=1&sid=d7c82b9c-48f4-4937-ab90-e1550de58488%40sessionmgr102
Monday, May 14, 2018
Friday, April 20, 2018
Is Oswald the New Pilgrim?
As I was reading Libra, particularly the chapter In Atsugi, I started to think that Lee Oswald's character felt a little familiar. All of a sudden I realized why. This may sound crazy, but Lee reminds me a lot of Billy Pilgrim. Let me explain.
We discussed today in class how Lee is comically inept at times, such as when he failed to even shoot himself correctly. This is sort of like how Billy Pilgrim is, as we described, frustratingly pathetic. They are both mostly incompetent. Lee creates weirdly comedic scenes by just being unable to carry out his plans, which may or may not be intelligent to begin with. The classic example is the "I happen to be shot" scene when he is made fun of for not properly planning for when he was shot by himself. Billy Pilgrim also is fairly pathetic, which we see when he tries to talk to a German officer and he laughs at him for how funny he looks in his coat and boots and "toga."
Both Lee and Billy are outsiders to their peers as well. Lee has very different political and economic views than all of his fellow soldiers. This sets him apart from the rest, and he is very aware of that. He gets picked on, and has nicknames, just as you might associate with a stereotypical school outcast. He also is a lot younger than most of the other soldiers. Billy is an outcast in his own set of soldiers. He is given the worst coat, and when he tries to lay down to sleep in the train car, they all yell at him because he snores too much.
Another similarity is that Lee and Billy both know things their peers don't. Lee is a communist, has secret knowledge about the U-2 planes, and is a traitor to the US. He is obviously not telling all of his fellow American soldiers about these things, but he knows them and likes to flaunt his U-2, political, or Marine Manual knowledge when he can. Billy, on the other hand, doesn't flaunt his knowledge, or really use it much himself. He knows his future, and the future of all things in so much as they pertain to his life, but he still acts passively and as if he didn't had this knowledge. He does almost float through the war because he knows how it will end, but he does little to prevent or change any part of the progression of events in time.
I know, Lee and Billy are hard to connect because we know what happens to Lee later in life, and Billy is fairly nonviolent, but I think the similarities while they are each in the military are still somewhat startling. They are weirdly similar in personality and both give me the feeling of not being sure whether to pity them, be irritated at them, laugh at them, or what.
We discussed today in class how Lee is comically inept at times, such as when he failed to even shoot himself correctly. This is sort of like how Billy Pilgrim is, as we described, frustratingly pathetic. They are both mostly incompetent. Lee creates weirdly comedic scenes by just being unable to carry out his plans, which may or may not be intelligent to begin with. The classic example is the "I happen to be shot" scene when he is made fun of for not properly planning for when he was shot by himself. Billy Pilgrim also is fairly pathetic, which we see when he tries to talk to a German officer and he laughs at him for how funny he looks in his coat and boots and "toga."
Both Lee and Billy are outsiders to their peers as well. Lee has very different political and economic views than all of his fellow soldiers. This sets him apart from the rest, and he is very aware of that. He gets picked on, and has nicknames, just as you might associate with a stereotypical school outcast. He also is a lot younger than most of the other soldiers. Billy is an outcast in his own set of soldiers. He is given the worst coat, and when he tries to lay down to sleep in the train car, they all yell at him because he snores too much.
Another similarity is that Lee and Billy both know things their peers don't. Lee is a communist, has secret knowledge about the U-2 planes, and is a traitor to the US. He is obviously not telling all of his fellow American soldiers about these things, but he knows them and likes to flaunt his U-2, political, or Marine Manual knowledge when he can. Billy, on the other hand, doesn't flaunt his knowledge, or really use it much himself. He knows his future, and the future of all things in so much as they pertain to his life, but he still acts passively and as if he didn't had this knowledge. He does almost float through the war because he knows how it will end, but he does little to prevent or change any part of the progression of events in time.
I know, Lee and Billy are hard to connect because we know what happens to Lee later in life, and Billy is fairly nonviolent, but I think the similarities while they are each in the military are still somewhat startling. They are weirdly similar in personality and both give me the feeling of not being sure whether to pity them, be irritated at them, laugh at them, or what.
Thursday, April 5, 2018
Dana 2.0
SPOILER ALERT! IF YOU HAVE NOT FINISHED KINDRED YET, DO NOT KEEP READING!
The second time Dana travels to the 19th century, it ends with a white man trying to rape her. She is then sent back to the 20th century, when she mistakes Kevin for her assailant.
The last time Dana travels to the 19th century, it ends with a white man trying to rape her. She is then sent back to the 20th century, when the police mistake Kevin for her assailant.
There is a difference though. The second time, she thinks about stabbing the white man's eyes with her fingers, crippling or killing him, but she can't do it. She is a 20th century person, someone who she later tells Kevin is not strong enough to survive the early 19th century South. The last time, she stabs Rufus, killing him. She is now a 19th century person as well. She has lost her 20th century ideals in the 19th century because she knows they can't keep her alive then. She also knows what she is doing more the last time because it was a man she knows all too well in a place she knows all too well.
At one point during her last trip (page 255), Dana says to Rufus, "'I don't belong here.'" He responds, "'Yes you do! As far as I'm concerned, you do." Previously in the book, he had acknowledged openly that she was different and out of her true place and time. But by the end of the book, Rufus sees Dana as just part of his normal life and no one treats her any more like she is from 150 years later. What has changed?
On a very basic level, she has spent a lot of time there, so people have gotten used to her presence. However, she also had to change as a person, and she did. She learned and adopted the methods necessary to survive in the 19th century as a slave. She became tougher, something she had previously compared herself to her ancestors about. She still does not say she is like her ancestors in their drive to survive, but at least she now knows she could physically survive if she had to go back again for any reason. She has stopped acting the part of a slave, and has become one for all intents and purposes. She has stopped acting the part of Alice's friend and Rufus' (mentor? savior? friend? whatever) and become that figure for real. So when she comes at first in The Fire, Dana is making up lines to fit her new character, but before she leaves in The Rope, she is being herself. Her own dilemmas, her own fears, her own opinions are being expressed in her words, not just a pretend slave's.
Additionally, Dana no longer trusts Rufus. She previously thought he was a good, moral person, then she thought she could teach/train him, then she thought she could manipulate him, but she now knows none of that is realistic. She knows he is not to be trusted and he has become like any other slave-owner/white man in the antebellum South (there are a few differences between him and others, but for the most part he behaves in the same ways).
Dana does hesitate before stabbing Rufus (we get to read her inner monologue) but she still does it. She has time to think, enough time to decide to act. The parallels between the second trip's ending and the last trip's ending make us wonder about Dana's development, because although the basics are similar, the characters have been drastically altered.
The second time Dana travels to the 19th century, it ends with a white man trying to rape her. She is then sent back to the 20th century, when she mistakes Kevin for her assailant.
The last time Dana travels to the 19th century, it ends with a white man trying to rape her. She is then sent back to the 20th century, when the police mistake Kevin for her assailant.
There is a difference though. The second time, she thinks about stabbing the white man's eyes with her fingers, crippling or killing him, but she can't do it. She is a 20th century person, someone who she later tells Kevin is not strong enough to survive the early 19th century South. The last time, she stabs Rufus, killing him. She is now a 19th century person as well. She has lost her 20th century ideals in the 19th century because she knows they can't keep her alive then. She also knows what she is doing more the last time because it was a man she knows all too well in a place she knows all too well.
At one point during her last trip (page 255), Dana says to Rufus, "'I don't belong here.'" He responds, "'Yes you do! As far as I'm concerned, you do." Previously in the book, he had acknowledged openly that she was different and out of her true place and time. But by the end of the book, Rufus sees Dana as just part of his normal life and no one treats her any more like she is from 150 years later. What has changed?
On a very basic level, she has spent a lot of time there, so people have gotten used to her presence. However, she also had to change as a person, and she did. She learned and adopted the methods necessary to survive in the 19th century as a slave. She became tougher, something she had previously compared herself to her ancestors about. She still does not say she is like her ancestors in their drive to survive, but at least she now knows she could physically survive if she had to go back again for any reason. She has stopped acting the part of a slave, and has become one for all intents and purposes. She has stopped acting the part of Alice's friend and Rufus' (mentor? savior? friend? whatever) and become that figure for real. So when she comes at first in The Fire, Dana is making up lines to fit her new character, but before she leaves in The Rope, she is being herself. Her own dilemmas, her own fears, her own opinions are being expressed in her words, not just a pretend slave's.
Additionally, Dana no longer trusts Rufus. She previously thought he was a good, moral person, then she thought she could teach/train him, then she thought she could manipulate him, but she now knows none of that is realistic. She knows he is not to be trusted and he has become like any other slave-owner/white man in the antebellum South (there are a few differences between him and others, but for the most part he behaves in the same ways).
Dana does hesitate before stabbing Rufus (we get to read her inner monologue) but she still does it. She has time to think, enough time to decide to act. The parallels between the second trip's ending and the last trip's ending make us wonder about Dana's development, because although the basics are similar, the characters have been drastically altered.
Thursday, March 15, 2018
Perfection of Tralfamadore as Billy's Escape
In class we have been discussing the role of Tralfamadore in Billy Pilgrim's mind as he deals with his experiences in the war. We labelled it as a coping mechanism, a way for him to escape and "reinvent [himself] and [his] universe." We also were debating whether Tralfamadore was real, within the context of the novel. I think that, given how similar it is to some of the Kilgore Trout books, and given the timeline (using the linear Earthling view of time, sorry) of Billy's life and his mental state at different points, it seems very likely that Tralfamadore was a construction of Billy's need for a way to cope with his time-travelling and war-time stress. Not only is Tralfamadore a world many light-years apart from Earth and its inhabitants, but it also is the environment Billy would rather live in.
Tralfamadore is Billy's personal utopia for several reasons. First of all, it isn't Earth. Earth has been giving Billy a hard time, and he needs something different. Also, the Tralfamadorian mindset is most likely a relief for Billy from the constraining Earth one. Billy, as with most Earthlings, tends naturally to view time as a line. He has been struggling with this line, however, especially as he has been jumping around throughout it to times he doesn't necessarily want or need to visit. The Tralfamadorian perspective gives reason to this otherwise maddening time-hopping. Billy is able to look at the events in his life as many that exist together, forgive himself for not preventing things later, and generally make sense of the time-travelling he is not intentionally doing. This view of time also helps Billy deal with the deaths he witnessed in the war. He was somewhat traumatized from the experience, which we can see in the way he avoids the topic of Derby's death on his honeymoon with Valencia. Through the Tralfamadorian view, deaths are not as tragic as we think of them because they are still alive in other moments. This was a good way for Billy to conceptualize the traumatic events he experienced.
When Billy is on Tralfamadore, he says that it is amazing to him that it is so peaceful there. He mentions the frequent wars on Earth, and remarks how startling it is that the Tralfamadorians do not fight. They think he is stupid, and one Tralfamadorian explains, "Today we [have a peaceful planet]. On other days we have wars as horrible as any you've ever seen or read about. There isn’t anything we can do about them, so we simply don’t look at them. We ignore them. We spend eternity looking at pleasant moments." There are moments when Kurt Vonnegut, or otherwise the narrator, interjects with an anti-war sentence or two, but this scene is the only time that Billy Pilgrim seems to be much bothered by the war in general. It shows just how much the war affected everything he thinks about. However, Tralfamadorians don't have to think about war. They can just consider the other moments in time instead. When Billy thinks up this elaborate other planet, it isn't a mistake that war can be ignored. Billy created Tralfamadore to escape and cope with himself and Earth, especially his experiences in the war.
Tralfamadore is Billy's personal utopia for several reasons. First of all, it isn't Earth. Earth has been giving Billy a hard time, and he needs something different. Also, the Tralfamadorian mindset is most likely a relief for Billy from the constraining Earth one. Billy, as with most Earthlings, tends naturally to view time as a line. He has been struggling with this line, however, especially as he has been jumping around throughout it to times he doesn't necessarily want or need to visit. The Tralfamadorian perspective gives reason to this otherwise maddening time-hopping. Billy is able to look at the events in his life as many that exist together, forgive himself for not preventing things later, and generally make sense of the time-travelling he is not intentionally doing. This view of time also helps Billy deal with the deaths he witnessed in the war. He was somewhat traumatized from the experience, which we can see in the way he avoids the topic of Derby's death on his honeymoon with Valencia. Through the Tralfamadorian view, deaths are not as tragic as we think of them because they are still alive in other moments. This was a good way for Billy to conceptualize the traumatic events he experienced.
When Billy is on Tralfamadore, he says that it is amazing to him that it is so peaceful there. He mentions the frequent wars on Earth, and remarks how startling it is that the Tralfamadorians do not fight. They think he is stupid, and one Tralfamadorian explains, "Today we [have a peaceful planet]. On other days we have wars as horrible as any you've ever seen or read about. There isn’t anything we can do about them, so we simply don’t look at them. We ignore them. We spend eternity looking at pleasant moments." There are moments when Kurt Vonnegut, or otherwise the narrator, interjects with an anti-war sentence or two, but this scene is the only time that Billy Pilgrim seems to be much bothered by the war in general. It shows just how much the war affected everything he thinks about. However, Tralfamadorians don't have to think about war. They can just consider the other moments in time instead. When Billy thinks up this elaborate other planet, it isn't a mistake that war can be ignored. Billy created Tralfamadore to escape and cope with himself and Earth, especially his experiences in the war.
Friday, March 2, 2018
Coalhouse Walker: Infected with Jes Grew?
I was sitting in free period earlier today, and I was applying the Mumbo Jumbo framework of Jes Grew and Atonism to random things, until I began to consider Ragtime. Ragtime as a whole is mostly Atonist. One could say that J. P. Morgan is at the very top of the Atonist pyramid, and Father is most definitely very Atonist in thought and manner. However, Coalhouse rocks the boat in some ways.
When Coalhouse enters the story, he is a very respectable ragtime musician. Ragtime, as referenced in Mumbo Jumbo, was a surge of Jes Grew in the 1890s and early 1900s, even though it does die out as Jes Grew shortly afterwards. Therefore, as a ragtime musician, Coalhouse is infected with Jes Grew. This is most clear when he plays for the family. The music is described as "like bouquets," "robust," and "a vigorous music that roused the senses and
never stood still a moment." This does fit nicely with some of Jes Grew's descriptions in Mumbo Jumbo. Coalhouse also is confident, while also being rebellious, that is, against the Atonist worldview. However, the way he goes about being against the Atonist worldview is by becoming somewhat Atonist himself. He plays music in an orchestra, a very regulated system, and he dresses and talks in a more Atonist fashion. Also, when we first see Coalhouse, he wants to move up in the social system, specifically the Atonist social system. It is kind of ambiguous whether he should be classified as somewhat Atonist, but I think he is still more Jes Grew-ist (is there a word for that?).
After Sarah's death, Coalhouse leaves behind his music, orchestra, and social status to grow militant. He turns from the Atonist system to become anti-Atonist, literally terrorizing them and criticizing his ways. Just like Benoit Battraville, he asks for the sheriff (or Hinkle von Vampton) to be handed over to his justice outside of the United States legality because the American legal system is too Atonist and has failed him before. In the end, Coalhouse learns that he cannot survive in the Atonist world. He has been too deeply infected and affected by Jes Grew and now he can never turn back. In the end, just like Father not being able to survive with his views in the coming era, Coalhouse cannot survive in the Atonist system.
There are some ways in which Ragtime doesn't quite line up with Jes Grew and Atonism, but that may be merely because I am trying to impose Jes Grew when I am primarily Atonist. However, when it comes to Coalhouse, it is interesting to compare his story with that of Berbelang and other characters in Mumbo Jumbo as they relate to Jes Grew and the Atonist structure of American society.
Friday, February 9, 2018
Mother: A Sample of Change in Society
When I was reading Ragtime by E. L. Doctorow, I just kept thinking back to one particular character: Mother. She develops more over the course of the novel than almost any other character. The first time we see her, she is a generic white middle class mother. She does not have much of a character at that point, but is instead a representation of what one might typically find in America in 1904. She is, at that point, still very connected to Father's views, which as we see later in the book, are out-dated and slightly ignorant. Father, throughout the book, continues to be a representation of how mainstream views, and, thus, Mother's views, used to be. When Father leaves for the Peary expedition, however, things start to change with Mother. The first major event is when Mother agrees to take in Sarah and Sarah's child. This was a reflexive decision, possibly even rash given the short time it happened in. However, it is the first indication that she has more depth of character and thought than previously indicated.
When Father returns from the North Pole, he is startled to see Sarah and Sarah's child in the house. He would not have agreed to take them in himself, but Mother had made the decision in his absence. He also is surprised to see that Mother had been reading pamphlets from Emma Goldman, a socialist leader. This is evidence that Mother has begun to think for herself even more. She is developing an individual political conscience, as well as control over the household. Mother and Father's relationship deteriorates somewhat over time, and they seem to disagree on a few things, including their opinions on Coalhouse Walker and his story. These opinion differences are not emphasized, but there are small moments we see them appear, especially when Mother calms down Father when he gets upset about Coalhouse several times. A year after Father's death, Mother marries Tateh, a previously socialist immigrant who has re-made himself as a figure in the film industry. Tateh is in many ways hugely different from Father. He was relatively poor until he recently brought himself up through the system, and he thinks progressively, even ahead of his time. Father, on the other hand, was always middle class, and was stuck in the mindset of ten or twenty years prior. Mother's relationship with each of them is different too, but I won't get into that here.
In some ways, Mother is a representation of the arc of mainstream thinking in the early 20th century. She originally was stuck in the old ways and did not seem to think much for herself. In the middle, she rebels against that system and tries to find her voice, first by turning to Emma Goldman for guidance. By the end of the novel, Mother has changed and looks progressively to the future, even moving to California to re-start her life. Society as a whole also holds a tale of breaking from ignorant conformity to begin forming new ideas and questioning old ideas. Even the socialist pamphlets have a place, serving as a way of testing new ways of thinking before settling into the new mindset. Mother's development is a small piece of the narrative of society in the 1900s-1910s, as well as the way society continues to cycle and evolve over time. This is supported by Mother's identity-less name as well, which gives the idea of Mother being one in many cases of this same story.
When Father returns from the North Pole, he is startled to see Sarah and Sarah's child in the house. He would not have agreed to take them in himself, but Mother had made the decision in his absence. He also is surprised to see that Mother had been reading pamphlets from Emma Goldman, a socialist leader. This is evidence that Mother has begun to think for herself even more. She is developing an individual political conscience, as well as control over the household. Mother and Father's relationship deteriorates somewhat over time, and they seem to disagree on a few things, including their opinions on Coalhouse Walker and his story. These opinion differences are not emphasized, but there are small moments we see them appear, especially when Mother calms down Father when he gets upset about Coalhouse several times. A year after Father's death, Mother marries Tateh, a previously socialist immigrant who has re-made himself as a figure in the film industry. Tateh is in many ways hugely different from Father. He was relatively poor until he recently brought himself up through the system, and he thinks progressively, even ahead of his time. Father, on the other hand, was always middle class, and was stuck in the mindset of ten or twenty years prior. Mother's relationship with each of them is different too, but I won't get into that here.
In some ways, Mother is a representation of the arc of mainstream thinking in the early 20th century. She originally was stuck in the old ways and did not seem to think much for herself. In the middle, she rebels against that system and tries to find her voice, first by turning to Emma Goldman for guidance. By the end of the novel, Mother has changed and looks progressively to the future, even moving to California to re-start her life. Society as a whole also holds a tale of breaking from ignorant conformity to begin forming new ideas and questioning old ideas. Even the socialist pamphlets have a place, serving as a way of testing new ways of thinking before settling into the new mindset. Mother's development is a small piece of the narrative of society in the 1900s-1910s, as well as the way society continues to cycle and evolve over time. This is supported by Mother's identity-less name as well, which gives the idea of Mother being one in many cases of this same story.
Wednesday, January 24, 2018
Pierpont's Paramount Pyramid Perspective
John Pierpont Morgan, or J. P. Morgan, makes a brief appearance in E. L. Doctorow's Ragtime. He has far-fetched ideas and a great amount of self-admiration, but it is hard to know how much Doctorow makes up and how much is really supported by historical evidence. Doctorow mixes researchable material - Morgan’s power, clothing, skin condition, and other external observations - with non-researchable material - his loneliness, thoughts, beliefs, and other personal information - to create a complex picture of a character that may or may not reflect the real John Pierpont Morgan of the early 20th century. The finished product is a wealthy, powerful man who acts all mighty and pretentious to the public and to his employees, but is secretly so lonely (because he’s too good for other people, the most self-centered reason I can imagine) that he comes up with a way to justify it. He is higher than the American capitalist system, and is, as someone said in 5th hour, the poster child for capitalism. Doctorow seems to play this up as well. He could have presented J. P. Morgan as a brilliant banker who was able to fenaegle his way into monopolizing money in America. He also could have presented J. P. Morgan as a greedy, rich banker who was able to buy his way into monopolizing money in America. However, he doesn’t do either of those. Doctorow doesn’t hide Morgan’s wealth and power in any way, but the reader finds themselves sympathizing for Pierpont, who is the lone interesting figure in a world of boring, however powerful, men. This struck me as somewhat ironic. Many people would assume Morgan was just as boring as the other powerful men, but Doctorow pulls Morgan aside and teases him for how egocentric he was.
The most memorable part of Chapter 20 and the culmination of Doctorow’s teasing of Pierpont Morgan is his explanation to Henry Ford of his beliefs. He says that, according to some Egyptian mythology and writings, there are people in every generation who carry special knowledge and genius so they can assist mankind. First of all, I couldn’t find out more information about this from a brief Google search. I found other things under the terms “prisca theologia” and “Hermetica,” but nothing about this “beneficent knowledge” or special people. In fact, “prisca theologia” translates more closely to “ancient theology” in Latin and everywhere I found online says it refers to the idea that all theologies are tied to one true, higher theology. Therefore, is Morgan’s idea of reincarnated geniuses made up by Doctorow? Either that, or it’s a very obscure part of prisca theologia that isn’t showing up in brief summaries of it online. I personally think Doctorow made up at least some parts of what Mogan describes - he’s made up plenty of random, non-historical things so far - but more extensive research may prove me wrong. If he did make it up, then what purpose does it serve? Is it another fun way for Doctorow to mess with the readers’ minds and bring a historical figure to life, assuming the readers will not turn to Google to investigate prisca theologia (Google had obviously not been created yet at the time Ragtime was published in 1974).
Once Morgan explains his ideas to Ford, Ford teases them too, but he does this from a different perspective. As Doctorow and his presentation of the ideas in the book tease Morgan for having such pretentious ideas about his own superiority, Ford teases Morgan instead for the pretentiousness by which he came to these ideas. Once Morgan has explained his trips to Egypt and the literature he has read, Ford demeans the entire thing by saying he got the same ideas from a 25¢ book he found in a novelty shop. This says more about Ford’s opinion of Morgan, however, than about Morgan or his ideas. Ford obviously sees Morgan as caring too much about prestige and power than about realism and American life. Ford feels that he can take his ideas from anywhere - a butcher shop or a novelty book, for example - so he seems to think that Morgan is being pretentious and egocentric by taking his inspiration from Egyptian and Greek texts. Between myself, Doctorow, and Henry Ford, it is easy to pry apart and gently tease Pierpont Morgan’s ideas about his status as a genius, reincarnated from an Egyptian pharaoh.
The most memorable part of Chapter 20 and the culmination of Doctorow’s teasing of Pierpont Morgan is his explanation to Henry Ford of his beliefs. He says that, according to some Egyptian mythology and writings, there are people in every generation who carry special knowledge and genius so they can assist mankind. First of all, I couldn’t find out more information about this from a brief Google search. I found other things under the terms “prisca theologia” and “Hermetica,” but nothing about this “beneficent knowledge” or special people. In fact, “prisca theologia” translates more closely to “ancient theology” in Latin and everywhere I found online says it refers to the idea that all theologies are tied to one true, higher theology. Therefore, is Morgan’s idea of reincarnated geniuses made up by Doctorow? Either that, or it’s a very obscure part of prisca theologia that isn’t showing up in brief summaries of it online. I personally think Doctorow made up at least some parts of what Mogan describes - he’s made up plenty of random, non-historical things so far - but more extensive research may prove me wrong. If he did make it up, then what purpose does it serve? Is it another fun way for Doctorow to mess with the readers’ minds and bring a historical figure to life, assuming the readers will not turn to Google to investigate prisca theologia (Google had obviously not been created yet at the time Ragtime was published in 1974).
Once Morgan explains his ideas to Ford, Ford teases them too, but he does this from a different perspective. As Doctorow and his presentation of the ideas in the book tease Morgan for having such pretentious ideas about his own superiority, Ford teases Morgan instead for the pretentiousness by which he came to these ideas. Once Morgan has explained his trips to Egypt and the literature he has read, Ford demeans the entire thing by saying he got the same ideas from a 25¢ book he found in a novelty shop. This says more about Ford’s opinion of Morgan, however, than about Morgan or his ideas. Ford obviously sees Morgan as caring too much about prestige and power than about realism and American life. Ford feels that he can take his ideas from anywhere - a butcher shop or a novelty book, for example - so he seems to think that Morgan is being pretentious and egocentric by taking his inspiration from Egyptian and Greek texts. Between myself, Doctorow, and Henry Ford, it is easy to pry apart and gently tease Pierpont Morgan’s ideas about his status as a genius, reincarnated from an Egyptian pharaoh.
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