Please read this article on the current revival of the 1998 musical based on E.L. Doctorow's Ragtime. It was in the NY Times this past Sunday.
As you finish Ragtime today and read the quotations on the handout I distributed on Tuesday, think about what the book's final statement on history might be. At its conclusion, the novel explicitly connects ragtime music with history. Why? We'll also be talking more about Coalhouse Walker, Jr. and why he comes to be the central figure in the narrative.
I'm looking forward to hearing your final responses to the novel.
I'm looking forward to hearing your final responses to the novel.
Wow, what a great novel! These last pages are so loaded, both with action and with metaphor, that one could spend an entire semester on them! But what struck me the most was the commentary on law, specifically the interpretation of it when Coalhouse seizes Morgan's property. Later, when we see the odd methods of justice enacted on his case--Conklin's humiliating task of reassembling the Model T, the city's apparent submission to Coalhouse--we must question the reality of law and justice.
ReplyDeleteAt the beginning of Chapter 35, Doctorow asks if injustice is a "mirror universe, with laws of logic and principles of reason the opposite of civilization's?" How indeed does the lowest common denominator, Willie Conklin, become an overnight celebrity, a figure on par with a man who earned his right to renown like J.P. Morgan? Doctorow describes the scenario as the opposite of civilization; i.e. anarchy. It's probably no coincidence, then, that Emma Goldman is later arrested for apparently no reason other than being a possible link to Coalhouse. But she's fully prepared for it; she's already packed her stuff and even considers a time in jail as a welcome break. She saw it coming because she's also been in that mirror universe.
Coalhouse's injustice really does exist in a universe of its own. To the casual onlooker, he's an anarchist who blew things way out of proportion. But what if we were in his shoes? As soon as he's confronted with that phony toll and his car is desecrated, he enters a whole new world where all he can think about is the pursuit of his personal justice.
Does that make him selfish? Does it make him foolish? No; he's a smart enough man--we know that. Booker T. Washington's scorn for Coalhouse comes from the fact that he's a musician, an artist, an educated African American and not common riff-raff. Why, then, does he pursue an end that he knows will destroy him? It's that "mirror universe" of injustice. Perhaps it's impossible to know what was going through his mind as he confronted the fire chief, then blew up the first station, then the second, and so on. Perhaps we ourselves would have to feel the weight of a personal injustice, as Coalhouse does, to understand why that path has a world of its own, comprised of "logic and principles of reason" we can't see by looking from the outside in.
Besides the obvious greatness of this book, I was struck at the end by the sudden entry of the word "I" from our narrator on page 269 in the paragraph beginning with "Poor Father." As far as I can recall, this is the first instance of the narrator asserting himself as an individual entity (the narrator at certain points says "We," however) and not some omniscient 3rd person. The thought immediately struck me that the narrator is actually the little boy, and here are my reasons for thinking thusly.
ReplyDeleteWe are told directly that the little boy loves to collect any discarded thing, and furthermore that he experiences great pleasure in the duplication of an event. At several points in the text, the narrator legitimizes his account of certain events by referencing the primary sources from which the events' descriptions come (most recently on p. 267: "We have the account of this odd event from the magician's private, unpublished papers.") Given the fact that these papers are private and unpublished, I don't think it is too much of a stretch to assume, given Houdini's and the boy's interaction near the beginning of the novel, that the little boy somehow came to possess his unpublished documents, as well as the rest mentioned throughout the text.
Holistically, it would be completely in keeping with what little we know of the boy that he set out to duplicate the events of history in the most practical way, i.e. in the specific forming of this story -- the text of Ragtime. This story is the ontological mirror duplicating and distorting the true events of history that the little boy either had direct experience in, or the means by which he could procure primary sources for reference.
But it's just a thought.
I was reminded of Houdini's burial and the buried child in the scene of page 219 where the children bury each other. When they are buried they become exagerated, adult versions of themselves. They take as much pleasure in destroying their adult images as in making them. This repeated exploration of adulthood and return to childhood emphasizes their innocence. When associated with burial, adulthood becomes a type of death. Their innocence also highlights how unaware they are of their parent's vision of their future.
ReplyDeleteI also noticed the reappearence of the circus freaks on page 220. Even they are acutely aware of what the future holds for the children. They are also described as having normal eyes. Even though they are freaks, they are still attune to normal human relationships.
I think the story of Tateh is especially telling of how generations of immigrant Americans have constructed and carried their personal histories. Like millions of other immigrants who came to New York before and after him and Africans who were forced to make America their home because of the slave trade, Tateh is at once given the burden and opportunity of essentially starting from scratch, both materially and even personally. He still has his name and livelihood, which is more than what many slaves were dropped off with, but he is still a kind of blank slate that can both change and be changed by his new country. His story, and especially its culmination in Chapter 24, perfectly illustrates the malleability of America and all the joy, folly, strangeness and varieties of experience on which that entity rests. The story of Tateh is a great example of how America, and more specifically a city like New York, came (and continues) to be the bustling, bursting home to millions that it is. Its cultural, economic, and even linguistic flexibility allows it to be stretched and shaped into something that can accommodate radically different ways of living. It can be cruel, of course, perhaps even more often than not, and most immigrant stories don't end with successful Pierpont Morgans and Henry Fords. But Tateh's narrative shows both possibilities: a man down on his luck and barely able to feed his daughter, and later, a man who has tapped into his own artistic abilities as well as those of capitalism. As much as anything, I think this novel is a convincing illustration of America itself as a kind of immigrant nation that is undergoing constant upheaval and renewal and telling its story, or collection of stories, as it goes along.
ReplyDelete-Margaret Green
I agree entirely with what Scram said in his previous observation. I have had the suspicion since beginning the novel that the narrator was, in fact, the little boy. What first pointed me in this direction was the use of the names of the fictitious family. When the narrator refers to them as Father, Mother, and Mother's Younger Brother, it is difficult to remove the possibility that these people were actually the narrator's father, mother, and uncle. Otherwise, it would have made more sense for the narrator to create names for them as he does for the other fictitious characters (Coalhouse Walker Jr., Baron Ashkenazy).
ReplyDeleteIt is also entirely plausible that the narrator is the older version of the little boy because, in some way, the little boy had a connection with every major character mentioned in the book. The novel is used as a retelling of the stories the little boy could have heard from those in his life, from the experiences of Tateh and his daughter to his father (both with the scenes from the Arctic and as hostage in the Morgan Library). It seems that the only character he has no real tie to is Mother's Younger Brother, and it is explained (as Scram pointed out with Houdini's journal) that both Father and Mother's Younger Brother kept journals as well.
From the beginning of the novel, the little boy liked to look at himself in the mirror and succeed in duplicating his identity. Ragtime can be seen as both a duplication of his early life and the events in history surrounding it, and also a study of the duplication in the lives of the other characters (J.P. Morgan's obsession with reincarnation, Tateh and Mother's Younger Brother reinventing themselves with new identities). By the end of the novel, most of the major characters have either died or fallen into obsurity. Mother, the little boy, and their new family seem to be the only real survivors of the story. As such, there is proof that the little boy was still alive, and in complete control of writing his memoirs/historical narrative.
-Megan Lawson
In reading the final pages of this novel, a moment that really stuck in my mind was the image of Coalhouse Walker Jr. and Booker T. Washington sitting in red plush chairs in front of the enormous fireplace in the Morgan Library. The same chairs that earlier in the book were occupied by Pierpont Morgan and Henry Ford. This is such a fabulous example of what someone (I'm so sorry I don't recall his name) said in class about interchangeable parts. In a sort of cruel joke, Doctorow has decided to make the creator of the concept of "men as interchangeable parts," Henry Ford, into an interchangeable part. The message here seems to be that men like Ford and Morgan should not be able to hold themselves above being affected by the social consequences of their business strategies. An interesting sort of twist on Karma, what you have done to others will now be done to you.
ReplyDeleteAlso, I would like to present a completely off-the-wall theory concerning Rosicrucianism. I know a little about it because when my mother was a child she was engaged by my grandfather to participate in experiments involving the secret magic and she told me about it. Therefore, I maintain that I come by my insanity honestly. At first, it seems that Doctorow would have us believe that Morgan never figures out the secret magic he's so obsessed with. He comes to the deluded conclusion that he has been reincarnated without the "usual entombment rituals." This seems far-fetched, at best. But then, on his death bed he predicts World War I. Clairvoyance and extrasensory perception were the basis of my grandfather's experiments. So, it appears that Morgan did find the secret magic in himself afterall, but perhaps it was a bit too late.
Ellie W.
In hindsight, I realize I could have been more clear about my argument that Morgan displays clairvoyance in predicting WWI. In studying American history this semester, I've learned that while many historians look back and say WWI could have been predicted, there seems to be no mention of anyone actually doing this (history buffs, feel free to correct me). Also, Doctorow's choice to put the paragraph about the actual start of WWI, the assasination of Franz Ferdinand, directly after the paragraph in which Morgan tell his friends and relatives not to worry about the war, suggests clairvoyance. And finally, were it common knowledge that a war was coming, presumably Morgan's friends and relatives who were very influential people would have been aware of it also. They are not, they have no idea what he's talking about. My apologies, sometimes I do that "stream of consciousness" thing, and my stream has a lot of meanders.
ReplyDeleteI also have some possible insight into why Morgan says that "War only speeds things up." I think he may be referring to a common Rosicrucian idea that a religious re-awakening or enlightenment is coming in which their ideas will be very important. Perhaps Morgan thinks the Great War will show people the light or something. He would be incorrect here, but clairvoyance isn't an exact art anyway, right?
I saw the opening number of the musical and was interested that they showed three distinct groups; whites, blacks, and immigrants. They did not intermingle and at times it seemed like they were going to duke it out sharks and jets style. Having this image in my head, I cannot help but see how intermigled everyone becomes by the end of the novel. Mother marries Tateh, MYB joins the Coalhouses and then the Zapatistas, the boy is playing with the girl (vague I know, but you get it) and Father even dies like an immigrant. It seems to speak of the new movement of America more towards the melting pot is was been considered for so long. This novel is undeniably one of transition and its effects.
ReplyDeleteDoctorow likes his characters to speak of future events, like Ellie was saying. I hadn't put as much thought behind it, but a part of the text that always stood out to me was at the very beginning. On page 9, the Little Boy is talking to Houdini and all he says to the great escape artist is "Warn the Duke." Already we are getting prophetic warnings of WWI that this age is coming to an end. I don't know; I just kept thinking about it. Doctorow likes to play with how time works
ReplyDeleteYikes, I completely forgot to post this past week! Also, I hadn't even rediscovered that moment between the boy and Houdini where he says that! Such an obscure prophecy that we can have no clue as to its meaning until so much later in the story. Yet another way that Doctorow's narrator veils his identity for much of the book. This book is so much like a very long jigsaw puzzle scattered over a table: working your way backward or forward will constantly drop yet another piece into place and connect two seemingly distinct scenes. As I was mulling over the connections between characters again, I kept being drawn to the effect Coalhouse produced on the Little Boy, eventually revealed to be the story's narrator. There seems to be a really strong implication of how much ragtime affected the Little Boy when he first heard Coalhouse play. He literally hears it as a soundtrack for his childhood.
ReplyDeleteAs I read back over the progression of Coalhouse's character and conflict in the book, I saw such an echo of the entire struggle for equality and civil rights. Coalhouse, echoing leaders such as DuBois, refuses to settle for anything less than absolute equality: in the eyes of not only the law but of each of his fellow citizens, regardless of color. For him, there can be no "steady integration" or "gradual allowance." He is a human being, plain and simple, and refuses to accept the necessary subservience being forced upon him illegally, very representative of the secondary position in society which leader Booker T. Washington was willing to accept in exchange for certain rights.