Grandiose Aspirations

Looking back at what I wrote for today's in-class prompt makes me wonder how well we know Oswald (as presented in Libra) even though we've spent quite a bit of time with him. From the beginning of the book, I kind of realized that he has grandiose ambitions--but never to the extent that we've been seeing recently. First of all, he defects and decides he wants to become a Russian citizen and is so sure of his decision that he gives up his American papers. He also spends large amounts of time working on learning Russian, but when he takes the test Alexi gives him, he fails everything except the urine test. Somehow, none of this appears to affect him, because he remains unfazed. Then, he realizes he actually wants to go back to America, but of course, he has practically forced his papers on the Russian officials. And then there's his book--he thinks that people will eventually read what he has to say in his "Kollection" with great interest.

All of these things make obvious Oswald's delusions about his own importance, particularly within the larger scheme of things. It also makes the reader question the whole plan, what with Mackey and Parmenter getting suspicious of various people and whether or not they will follow through. It's also interesting that they chose Oswald as their main hitman because he seems to me very unpredictable. He lashes out (in a physical way) at his wife seemingly randomly. If I could choose three words to describe him, I'd probably say unpredictable, deluded, and dangerous. Why they would rely on someone who has an agenda of his own is the mystery; if they want everything to be in place without any room for error, Oswald isn't the guy they're looking for; he makes his own fake identification and has an investment in this--most likely to do with his own self-perceptions. In any case, there's no way this plan can end well. 

 

Libra

Today in class we talked about how credible the various conspirators in Libra seem to us. I'd say that they all seem pretty realistic to me. I don't really have the psychological background to say what exactly is "wrong" with them, but I think it's pretty clear that the way these men think is not the norm. They literally lead double lives; they have false names, passports, back accounts, etc. and this, no doubt, affects them significantly. The most striking scene so far for me has been when Win is thinking about the plot but is then brought back to reality by an activity as mundane as unloading groceries:

"He respected the President for going to Miami. He was surprised and touched when the President's wife poke Spanish to brigade members. But the ceremony had not renewed the cause, the forceful devotion to a free Havana. He saw it now as pure public relations, the kind of gleaming imagery that marked every move the administration made. The car pulled up and he went down the steps to help Mary Frances take the groceries inside. He gripped the heavy bags. A wind sprang from the east, an idea of rain, sudden, pervading the air. He saw himself go inside, a fellow on a quiet street doing ordinary things, unafraid of being watched. (51)

The juxtaposition of the thinking behind an assassination attempt and the domesticity of the task of unloading groceries is a really sharp image. It's also pretty disturbing, though; it makes you wonder how well you can truly know a person. For example, Mary Frances, Win's wife, doesn't know very much about him and yet he still seems to function as a husband and father just fine. Neither Mary Frances, nor his daughter, Suzanne, question Win's "normalness." It just goes to remind us that it's really hard to recognize a deranged or mentally unsound person based on outward behaviors. This strengthens DeLilo's case in writing Libra because it adds plausibility to the fact that Oswald was the only one officially charged with Kennedy's assassination. The other conspirators were so good at leading their double lives that they were simply never caught. How convenient (yet plausible)!

Speaking of Mary Frances, Beryl, Parmenter's wife, is about the same in terms of character. We see her trying to elicit some information from Larry, but when he doesn't give many specifics, she sort of just drops the issue. This brings me to something else I've noticed: part of the reason I (and a lot of my classmates, from what I can tell) are having some trouble keeping plot elements straight is that the conspirators blur together. I couldn't tell much of a difference in character between Beryl and Mary Frances, for example, and their husbands treat them about the same as well. It's very easy to lose track of who is who, and I wonder if DeLilo did this on purpose or not.

Lyndon

I liked Lyndon. Although I knew the character Lyndon didn't necessarily reflect the "real" Lyndon, it offered a lot of insight into the rather normal life of someone we might not otherwise get to hear or read about. It's really odd to hear about all of the personal, yet innately human things we know about but don't actually talk about. I know some people feel that all of the references to bodily functions were just repulsive--and I agree--I highly doubt Wallace added those in just to cause his readers discomfort. As was brought up in class, the fact that he chooses to add such natural and humble details creates a totally different representation of President Johnson. I don't think there's anything perverse or weird of about creating such a perspective for readers because it's just putting into writing what we all know but choose not to recognize.

Hopefully more on the ending once we talk about it in class, because as of now, I don't know what to make of it!

Dana and Rufus's Relationship

Kindred's ending surprised me, namely the part where Rufus tried to rape Dana. It was disturbing on so many levels that I had many mixed feelings. For one thing, I've always thought of Dana and Rufus's relationship as sort of a parental one. Dana meets Rufus for the first time when he's a child and saves him from drowning, just as a mother would save her child (unless it's Margaret Weylin, apparently....). Furthermore, the way Dana is always forgiving Rufus. No matter what he does, somehow, Dana is constantly forgiving him. This also struck me as a parent-child relationship because even if a kid does something wrong, the parents generally reprimands him/her and then eventually forgives the child. The way Rufus becomes rebellious and is quick to assert his authority over Dana also reminded me of the way teens become "rebellious" and constantly remind their parents of their independence.

So when Rufus tried to rape Dana, the whole parent-child relationship didn't seem to fit. In fact, as the book progressed, the dynamic between Rufus and Dana changed in such a way that Dana wasn't really sure what to make of Rufus. For example, when she has to tell Alice that Rufus wants her in his bedroom and Alice asks her what she would do, Dana says she wouldn't go. At this point, I wondered if she was just saying that because she wasn't in Alice's position and it was easy for her to say no. But of course, when this actually does happen to her, Dana follows through. Anyway, Rufus and Dana's relationship becomes a lot more about who has more control. Before, there was a sense that they both needed each other; Rufus needed Dana to keep him alive and vice versa, since Dana is a descendant of Rufus. Once Hagar is born, though, the balance shifts; Rufus is no longer in control because Dana doesn't need him anymore. She has secured her safety in that she will be born, regardless of whether she keeps Rufus alive or not. She knows this and isn't hesitant to remind him several times that she could just conveniently not save him the next time he gets into trouble.

So their relationship goes from a parent-child dynamic with fairly equal footing to unequal footing in Rufus's favor, then in Dana's favor, and finally, into the termination of the relationship altogether by Dana. A lot of this has to do with Alice. Upon her death, we see Rufus begin to lose it. The resemblance between Dana and Alice has been mentioned several times up until now, but at this point, Rufus remarks on it. He says that they are "two parts of a whole." Then, when he tries to rape her, it's as if he's seeing her as a replacement for Alice, since before, he had never seen Dana in this way. When Tom Weylin tells Rufus to take Dana instead of Alice, Rufus is miffed and says that Alice is the only one he wants. This is the very thing Dana told Alice she would refuse to do, and placed in the position, she asserts her control and kills Rufus. (N.B. Had Rufus raped Dana anyway, he would be having sex with his own great-great-granddaughter. Then what would their child be, anyway? It just violates all kinds of laws). The way the book ends up is perhaps the only way it could have ended: with Dana forcefully severing the relationship when Rufus was essentially trying to rope Dana into his world. Of course, she still has a reminder of that world--she's lost her arm--but Dana belongs in the twentieth century, so I think the ending makes sense.