The title of Elizabeth Bishop's Geography III is a vexing one, to be sure. There is, quite frankly, no concise or clear-cut answer as to why Bishop chose this ambiguous title. The final book written and published by Bishop before her death in 1979, Geography III is a collection of nine poems that can be tied to the tranquility and votility of mankind's surroundings (its "geography," so to speak) and its effects on Bishop and her various guises. As a treastise of the bonds we share, however personal or impersonal, with the earth, Geography III is a fitting swan song for Bishop. So...why the Roman numeral III of the title? Is the third time the charm, with geography?
The clues (or are they?) can be found everywhere: the prefacing "First Lessons in Geography" defines maps, asks of volcanoes, and sets the tone for the following poems ("Geography I," perhaps?), as well as her painstakingly detailed landscapes of "Crusoe in England" ("islands spawning islands, / like frogs' eggs turning into polliwogs / of islands") and "Poem":
Up closer, a wild iris, white and yellow,
fresh-squiggled from the tube.
The air is fresh and cold; cold early spring
clear as gray glass; a half inch of blue sky
below the steel-gray storm clouds.
Regardless of the mystery surrounding its title, Geography III is still a very strong collection of nine peerless works of poetry. Anyone who could fashion a work as profound in its simplicity as "The Moose" or elegaic in its nostalgia as "In the Waiting Room" deserves a Pulitzer Prize, and Elizabeth Bishop won that very award in 1956.
It is, perhaps, only fitting that we to this day ponder the title of Geography III. I am sure Elizabeth Bishop would have like it that way.
Saturday, March 28, 2009
Wednesday, March 4, 2009
Presenting...The Women of an All-Male Cast
Upon first glance, David Mamet's Pulitzer-winning play Glengarry Glen Ross (and subsequent Oscar-nominated film adaptation) appears to inhabit a macho he-man universe of high-fives, fast cars, dirty jokes, and the daily wheel-and-deal to the American Dream. Though Glengarry Glen Ross only has two locales and seven white male speaking roles, we spy onto a world of capital-m Men, who know what's right, even when they don't. The unseen women who are only mentioned briefly seem to exist solely to screw things up for the men. How many wives, after all, destroyed business deals and cost "deserving" salesmen that new Cadillac?
Now we move onto Glance #2. The superficial "male camaraderie" is anything but; these businessmen are glorified hustlers, practically con men, bombarding unsuspecting customers and clients with "peace of mind" plots of land in Arizona and Florida. None of these clients want to purchase any of this real estate; the few that do close deals seem to do so only to shut the salesman up and get him off of their backs. Such is the daily bump-and-grind of these insecure Men, who go to work, put on their game face, and thus make a sales pitch not too far removed from schoolyard bullying. Men like Richard Roma go so far as to put their "manhood" on the line; after all, only the Manliest of Men can sell real estate, and those who cannot are easy targets for emasculation. When all does not go well (and it rarely does; occupational hazard of pushing real estate down peoples' throats), the insults, the nonstop f-bombs, and the slurs commence. These characters are more boys than men. We shall refer to this as the "masquerade of masculinity."
So...if the all-too-visible men are running the show in Glengarry Glen Ross, then where are the women? To put it simply: removed from the stage, they provide the checks-and-balances to keep these men in tow.
Women are sparsely mentioned in the play, but their influence is undeniable. One key scene, towards the latter part of Act II, finds smooth-talker Richard Roma in a bind when a key client named James Lingk (key in that by making this sale, Roma will win a brand-new Cadillac) backs out of a deal that was closed the previous night. Roma's pride and hubris (the "masquerade," as it were) takes a staggering blow as this deal is lost, and it is all because Lingk's wife made him call the deal off. After spending hours buttering the man up with promises of security, Roma loses it all with the simple intervention by a woman.
I think the line that best sums up Glengarry Glen Ross's attitude toward the battle of the sexes (which the men like to think they're always winning) is when James Lingk, asked why he would change his mind so abruptly and give in to his wife's sensible demands, declares "I don't have the power."
Note the emphasis on the word power. James Lingk, the accidental customer, is not like the real estate men who swindle and talk a sweet game. No, James Lingk has a moral compass, here personified by his wife. A conscience, if you will, to prevent him from doing the kinds of stupid things that would bring the downfall of other characters like Shelly Levene and Dave Moss. With only their machismo to drive them, the salesmen of Glengarry Glen Ross might as well be all doomed without a sensible voice to influence their actions. After all, their firebomb approach to selling land is usually thwarted by wives, girlfriends, mothers, and daughters who would know better than to fall for their bullshit confidence.
In conclusion, Glengarry Glen Ross is not at all, in my opinion at least, an anti-feminist work. If anything, it's the furthest thing from it. When the girls are away, the boys will play, as the saying goes. Glengarry Glen Ross is a study of what happens when the boys decide to play a few decades longer than they should.
Now we move onto Glance #2. The superficial "male camaraderie" is anything but; these businessmen are glorified hustlers, practically con men, bombarding unsuspecting customers and clients with "peace of mind" plots of land in Arizona and Florida. None of these clients want to purchase any of this real estate; the few that do close deals seem to do so only to shut the salesman up and get him off of their backs. Such is the daily bump-and-grind of these insecure Men, who go to work, put on their game face, and thus make a sales pitch not too far removed from schoolyard bullying. Men like Richard Roma go so far as to put their "manhood" on the line; after all, only the Manliest of Men can sell real estate, and those who cannot are easy targets for emasculation. When all does not go well (and it rarely does; occupational hazard of pushing real estate down peoples' throats), the insults, the nonstop f-bombs, and the slurs commence. These characters are more boys than men. We shall refer to this as the "masquerade of masculinity."
So...if the all-too-visible men are running the show in Glengarry Glen Ross, then where are the women? To put it simply: removed from the stage, they provide the checks-and-balances to keep these men in tow.
Women are sparsely mentioned in the play, but their influence is undeniable. One key scene, towards the latter part of Act II, finds smooth-talker Richard Roma in a bind when a key client named James Lingk (key in that by making this sale, Roma will win a brand-new Cadillac) backs out of a deal that was closed the previous night. Roma's pride and hubris (the "masquerade," as it were) takes a staggering blow as this deal is lost, and it is all because Lingk's wife made him call the deal off. After spending hours buttering the man up with promises of security, Roma loses it all with the simple intervention by a woman.
I think the line that best sums up Glengarry Glen Ross's attitude toward the battle of the sexes (which the men like to think they're always winning) is when James Lingk, asked why he would change his mind so abruptly and give in to his wife's sensible demands, declares "I don't have the power."
Note the emphasis on the word power. James Lingk, the accidental customer, is not like the real estate men who swindle and talk a sweet game. No, James Lingk has a moral compass, here personified by his wife. A conscience, if you will, to prevent him from doing the kinds of stupid things that would bring the downfall of other characters like Shelly Levene and Dave Moss. With only their machismo to drive them, the salesmen of Glengarry Glen Ross might as well be all doomed without a sensible voice to influence their actions. After all, their firebomb approach to selling land is usually thwarted by wives, girlfriends, mothers, and daughters who would know better than to fall for their bullshit confidence.
In conclusion, Glengarry Glen Ross is not at all, in my opinion at least, an anti-feminist work. If anything, it's the furthest thing from it. When the girls are away, the boys will play, as the saying goes. Glengarry Glen Ross is a study of what happens when the boys decide to play a few decades longer than they should.
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