Laura's Place

Shakespeare’s Othello and John Knowles’ A Separate Peace both contain a character who is treacherous and deceitful, who convinces a gullible, trusting character to become jealous of one whom they love and ultimately cause them harm. In Othello this character is Iago, Othello’s standard bearer. Jealous and angry that Othello promoted Michael Cassio to lieutenant, Iago tricks Othello into thinking his wife Desdemona is cheating on him, as an attempt at revenge. His treachery leads Othello to kill his wife. In A Separate Peace, Gene’s “inner darkness”, what his friend Leper calls the “savage underneath” (p. 137), convinces him that his best friend Phineas is working against him. It is this inner Iago, so to speak, that leads him to make Phineas fall out of a tree and break his leg, which ultimately leads to Phineas’ death. In Othello, the Iago character is tangible, a real person, Iago himself. In A Separate Peace, the Iago character is more abstract, a part of the main character. However, the Iagos serve the same purpose. They both make their respective host wrongfully jealous of an innocent person and do harmful things to said innocent person. Both Iagos achieve this by taking advantage of their respective hosts’ insecurities. Both Iagos, in the end, are abandoned when their hosts learn the truth.

Though the two Iagos are different in form – one tangible and one abstract – they both prey on the insecurities of their host. In Othello, Othello is insecure because he is a foreigner. Because he is a Moor, he is not completely certain his wife loves him. His insecurities are the chink in his armor; Iago manages to use that part of his mind to plant the idea that his wife is cheating on him. In A Separate Peace, Gene is, like Othello, a stranger. While many of the other boys come from places relatively close to Devon school where the book takes place, Gene is from the southern United States. Not being from the same area as the other boys, he has different mannerisms, such as his “West Point stride” (p. 11). Likewise, the other boys at school have some habits that are strange to Gene, such as their way of speaking. “ ‘Aey-uh,’ he said. This weird New England affirmative – maybe it is spelled ‘aie-huh’ – always made me laugh, as Finny knew…” (p. 7). So one reason for Gene’s insecurities is that he is not accustomed to the area in which the book takes place. Another reason is that Gene is already jealous of Phineas. “I couldn’t help envying him that a little, which was perfectly normal. There was no harm in envying even your best friend a little” (p. 18). He is insecure about his own abilities because Phineas never seems to have to work for anything. For example, he beat the school swim record without practicing: “I looked at the watch; he had broken A. Hopkins Parker’s record by .7 second” (p. 35). Gene is also insecure because Phineas is not self conscious and so he is more at ease with himself. Gene is conscious of how other people view him, which makes him jealous of Phineas. For example, after Phineas breaks the school swim record, he refuses to let Gene tell anyone, preferring that it be kept secret. He only attempted it to prove to himself that he could do it. “’No, I just wanted to see if I could do it. Now I know. But I don’t want to do it in public’” (p. 35). Gene resents that Phineas is so comfortable with himself whereas Gene is not. These insecurities allow Gene’s inner Iago to convince him that Phineas is trying to keep him down. “Finny had deliberately set out to wreck my studies. That explained blitzball, that explained the nightly meetings of the Super Suicide Society, that explained the insistence that I share all his diversions. The way I believed that you’re-my-best-friend blabber!” (p. 45). Gene sees false connections between these events and jumps to the conclusion that Phineas is secretly trying to hold him back. The feelings that Gene’s Iago brings up are jealousy, though stronger than before, as evidenced by Gene’s desire to get ahead of him; hatred, of the sort that comes along with strong jealousy; and suspicion of Phineas’ honesty. Othello’s Iago also brings up these emotions. He is jealous because he believes his wife is cheating on him; he begins to hate her as well, as evidenced by his vow to kill her, “I will withdraw / To furnish me with some swift means of death / For the fair devil” (3.3.534-536); and he is suspicious of his wife’s fidelity. Othello and Gene, from Othello and A Separate Peace respectively, are both insecure and already a little jealous. The Iagos notice this and use it to cause harm to the objects of the jealousy. This seems to express that when one is not sure of oneself, it leaves one susceptible to one’s own Iago, no matter how upstanding one is. Othello is a respected general, yet Iago manages to take advantage of his insecurities. Each Iago, the real Iago and Gene’s “savage underneath,” takes advantage of these insecurities to cause Othello and Gene to suspect an innocent person is not completely faithful.

After the Iagos have their hosts under their control, they both manage to bring harm to their hosts’ loved ones. Desdemona from Othello and Phineas from A Separate Peace are both innocent – Desdemona is not really cheating on Othello and Phineas is not really working against Gene – but are accused by the Iago in each work. In Othello’s case, Iago convinces him to kill Desdemona. After Iago has tricked Othello into thinking Desdemona is unfaithful, Othello says, “Ay, let her rot, and perish, and be damned tonight, for she shall not live” (4.1.196-197). He is vowing to kill her, showing that, because of the false evidence put forth by Iago, he is jumping to conclusions. He later succeeds in killing her, before he realizes that Iago was lying. In A Separate Peace, Gene’s Iago is less plotting, but still manages to cause harm to Phineas. When Gene climbs up in the tree with Phineas, “I took a step toward him, and then my knees bent and I jounced the limb. Finny … tumbled sideways, broke through the little branches below and hit the bank with a sickening, unnatural thud” (p. 52). He had not thought of doing this earlier, which suggests this action was spontaneous, unlike Othello’s Iago’s planned revenge. Phineas and Gene agree by the end that it was “some crazy ignorance inside me, some crazy thing inside me, something blind, that’s all it was” (p. 183). This suggests that it was not Gene himself that meant to hurt Phineas, to make him fall from the tree, but the part of him that was jealous and hateful and suspicious; in other words, his inner Iago. It is described appropriately by Leper, Gene’s friend, who says, “Like a savage underneath. Like … that time you knocked Finny out of the tree” (p. 137). Gene and Othello’s Iagos bring harm to Desdemona and Phineas.

Once the whole debacle is over and both hosts learn the truth, but too late, both Iagos are abandoned. In Othello, Othello learns that Desdemona was innocent after he kills her. Then he turns against Iago and allows him to be taken away to be tortured. He then kills himself and, in a way, frees himself from the insecurities and jealousy that had let Iago manipulate him. In A Separate Peace, Gene reconciles with Phineas and they manage to gain an understanding of each other like they could never have had while Gene was withholding the truth of the accident and while Phineas was denying it. It is, like Othello had when he learned the truth about his wife, and understanding without secrets. In chapter eleven, Phineas breaks his leg again while trying to escape the truth of the accident. Later, in the infirmary, Gene admits that he caused Phineas’ fall from the tree and says, “ ‘It was just some ignorance inside me, some crazy thing inside me, something blind, that’s all it was’” (p. 183). Phineas says, “ ‘I believe you. It’s okay because I understand and I believe you. You’ve already shown me and I believe you’” (p. 183). That Gene is able to admit that, in a way, he caused the accident and that Phineas believes that it was the inner Iago shows an understanding that allows them to reconcile. However, it is too late because Phineas dies from complications with his broken leg. The reconciliation and Phineas’ death let Gene abandon his Iago, now that the object of his jealousy is gone. “I did not cry even when I stood watching him being lowered into his family’s strait-laced burial ground outside of Boston. I could not escape the feeling that this was my own funeral, and you do not cry in that case” (p. 186). This suggests that his inner Iago, which had been a part of him throughout the book, is gone as well. In both Othello’s and Gene’s cases, once the object of their jealousy is gone, they are able to let go of their Iagos. “Phineas had absorbed it and taken it with him, and I was rid of it forever” (p. 195). This supports the idea of Gene’s Iago being jealousy, all of which he had poured into Phineas, evidenced by his constantly comparing himself to Phineas. Once Phineas is gone, Gene has no more jealousy to spend and so he is rid of his Iago. “…My war ended before I ever put on a uniform; I was on active duty all my time at school; I killed my enemy there” (p. 196). In this case his enemy is his Iago because it is comprised of his jealousy and suspicion that leads to Phineas’ fall, just as in Othello Iago is Othello’s enemy because he brings out the jealousy and suspicion that lead to Othello murdering Desdemona. By Gene killing his Iago, he is freeing himself of the jealousy he had felt before. “My fury was gone, I felt it gone, dried up at the source, withered and lifeless” (p. 195). This “source” could be interpreted as Phineas, on whom Gene had spent his jealousy. This line suggests that Gene had no more fury to spend, since the object of his fury was gone. He, like Othello, frees himself of his jealousy by ridding himself of his Iago.

Though the Iagos are similar in purpose, they do differentiate. Othello’s Iago’s goal is to cause harm to Othello himself, not necessarily to Desdemona. However, to harm Othello, Iago also indirectly harms Desdemona. Gene’s Iago, his “savage underneath,” is not meant to bring harm to the part of Gene that admires Phineas; it is meant to bring harm directly to Phineas, the object of Gene’s hatred.

Othello and A Separate Peace both have a treacherous character who bring out the main character’s jealousy and suspicion toward an innocent person. In Othello this character is Iago, who takes advantage of Othello’s insecurities to lead him to kill his wife. In A Separate Peace, the character is a part of Gene that, because of preexisting jealousy of Phineas, cause Gene to believe Phineas is working against him, and lead him to cause Phineas’ fall from the tree. Though Othello’s Iago is a real person and Gene’s Iago is an abstraction, both are a representation of a person’s tendency to jump to conclusions when they are insecure. They also serve the same purpose: to take advantage of their hosts’ insecurities and lead their host to cause harm to someone they love. Both Iagos seem to suggest as well, if a moral is to be picked out from them, that if a person is insecure or jealous of another, they leave room for their inner Iago, or “savage underneath,” to bring harm.

The meaning of “brother’s keeper” and what it means to ask the question Cain asked in the early chapters of Genesis, “Am I my brother’s keeper?”, have been debated for a long time. John Steinbeck’s East of Eden ponders the question and seems to come up with an answer. The book focuses on the Trask family, specifically in this case Adam Trask and his sons Cal and Aron, and their life in the Salinas Valley. Steinbeck’s interpretation of “brother’s keeper” is that man is man’s keeper, but also that he has the choice to take on the responsibility.

The term “brother’s keeper” has multiple possible meanings. Even a word as simple and standard as “brother” has multiple possible meanings within the term “brother’s keeper.” One might read “brother” literally: a male relative born of one’s parents. This meaning is expressed by Cain in the biblical story when God asks him where his brother Abel is, and Cain responds by asking, “Am I my brother’s keeper?” This interpretation is also expressed by Cal, Cain’s counterpart, in East of Eden in the same fashion. However, as a moral question rather than a literal one, the word “brother” is and has been used much more broadly.

From the specific brother, possible meanings ramify, and which branch is chosen depends on the moral preference of the chooser. A second branch is family members, such as parents, cousins, aunts and uncles. A third is friends and others one cares about or with whom one feels a connection. It then opens up to neighbors and members of the community, and so on until the word “brother” includes everyone. Saying, “Am I my brother’s keeper?” provides the allusion to the famous biblical story the way “cousin’s keeper,” “neighbor’s keeper,” or “small, hungry African child’s keeper” do not, and gives the impression that everyone within the chosen level deserves to be treated like a brother.

However, unlike “brother”, the word “keeper” lacks the clear literal meaning from which to start expanding. Even the dictionary supplies various definitions, each equally varied and plausible. According to one definition, a keeper is someone who guards or watches. An example of this is a guardian angel. The keeper prevents harm from coming to the brother. Another entirely different example of this same definition is a prison guard. This example implies that being the keeper is more of an obligation than a choice, because it is to prevent the brother from doing what he would normally do if not for the keeper. For example, if the prison guard did not guard the thief, the thief would steal.

According to a different definition, a keeper is someone who assumes responsibility for another’s behavior. The very wording of this definition suggest, like the previous definition, obligation, especially if the interpretation of “brother” is within the two top levels of the pyramid. It does not show many signs of a voluntary relationship, or at least as voluntary as the relationship between an older sibling and younger sibling is. As with the previous definition, it suggests that the keeper must be responsible for the brother or the brother would do wrong.

Another way to look at the word “keeper” is as someone who has a responsibility to someone, rather than a responsibility for someone. This suggests voluntary care and love, like the relationship between friends. This definition indicates both choice and obligation: the choice to take responsibility toward the brother who does not necessarily need to be watched or guarded but cared for, and the obligation to be responsible once that responsibility has been taken. Even after the various meanings of “brother” and “keeper” have been discussed, it is still a different matter to discuss what the question, “Am I my brother’s keeper?” means, and what it means to ask it. It is apparent in East of Eden that Steinbeck has an opinion about this. There is a point in the book where Adam asks Cal where Aron is, not knowing Aron left to join the army, and Cal replies, “’How do I know? … Am I supposed to look after him?’” This is a close rewording of the question, seemingly providing a clear answer to what Steinbeck thinks the question means: “keeper” meaning one who looks after another. His demanding tone implies a responsibility completely based on obligation.

However, the relationship between Cal and Aron is not the only example of a brother-keeper relationship. There are many examples in the book that are representations of different forms of the relationship between brother and keeper, and not all of them use the same definition that Cal’s question implied.

The relationship between Lee, the Trask’s servant, and the Trask family is an example of a “brother’s keeper” relationship that deals with the brother that refers to an employer, and a combination of all the previously discussed definitions of “keeper”. Normally, the relationship between a servant and an employer is that of a custodian or someone who responsible for maintenance. That relationship would be based purely on obligation, because he is paid to be his brother’s keeper.

However, Lee is more like a member of the family than a servant, for a number of reasons. First, he provides advice. When Aron Trask confides in Lee that he wants to leave Salinas Valley, Lee tells him, “’You’re growing up. Maybe that’s it … Sometimes I think the world tests us most sharply then, and we turn inward and watch ourselves with horror. But that’s not the worst. We think everybody is seeing into us. Then dirt is very dirty and purity is shining white. Aron, it will be over. Wait only a little while and it will be over.” (p. 489). This demonstrates some choice in his employment: he is obligated to serve the Trasks, but he chooses to serve them to the best of his ability, by advising them when they are unsure of what to do.

Second, he offers philosophy. One of the main themes of the book is man’s choice between good and evil. It is Lee who brings up this theme on page 301 when he says, “’But the Hebrew word, the word timshel—“Thou mayest”—that gives a choice. It might be the most important word in the world. That says the way is open. That throws it right back on a man. For if “Thou mayest”—it is also true that “Thou mayest not.” Don’t you see?’” Lee is by far the wisest character in the book. He shares his wisdom with the Trasks though he does not have to, demonstrating his responsibility toward them, not his responsibility for them.

Abra Bacon’s relationship with Aron illustrates the sort of “brother” that refers to friends and neighbors, and the third provided definition for “keeper”, as one who feels a responsibility toward another. Abra is a girl who lives in Salinas and who befriends the Trask family. Aron grew up without a mother and when he meets Abra he clings to her as he would his mother. “’Maybe we could pretend like you’re my mother,’ [Aron said] … She put a cooing tone in her voice and said, ‘Come, my baby, put your head in Mother’s lap. Come, my little son. Mother will hold you.’ She drew his head down, and with out warning Aron began to cry and could not stop. … Abra stroked his cheek and wiped the flowing tears away with the edge of her skirt.” (p. 422). This, too, is a brother-keeper relationship based on choice and obligation, but in this case, unlike Lee’s relationship with the Trasks, the choice comes first. Abra made a conscious choice to care for Aron as if she were his mother, made a choice to commit herself to the responsibility of a mother. She is then obligated to care for him like a mother, even after she stops loving him. After Aron enlists in the army and leaves Salinas Valley, Abra tells Cal, “’It’s not so terribly long ago that I grew up and I wasn’t a little girl any more. … It’s hard to say now. I wish I’d said it then. I didn’t love Aron any more.’” (p. 575). Abra’s continuous care for Aron even after she stops loving him shows the sort of obligation that one feels when one truly cares, an obligation one chooses to have.

Steinbeck’s view of responsibility toward others, as is apparent in East of Eden, is that people have both an obligation and a choice. The order in which they appear in the book, however, varies with each situation. Lee has the obligation as an employee to serve the Trask family, but he chooses to do it well, offering not only cooking and cleaning, but advise, philosophy, and comfort. Abra chooses to assume responsibility toward Aron, then has an obligation to care for him once she assumes that responsibility.

This applies to the real world as well. Steinbeck believes that people are morally responsible to one another, but have the choice, like Abra, to embrace that responsibility and, like Lee, to serve well, and have an obligation to one another once people have embraced the responsibility. But morality is not objective. Where does the responsibility come from if it is not an objective truth? Perhaps man not only must choose to embrace the responsibility he has toward his fellow man, but once chose to have that responsibility in the first place, and over time that responsibility became the objective truth that man must choose to embrace.

The term “brother’s keeper” can be interpreted as almost anything, from prison guard to guardian angel to caring loved one, depending on the preference of the person interpreting. Steinbeck, in his book, East of Eden, chooses to interpret it as that mankind is mankind’s keeper by obligation, but has the choice to accept that obligation. This is expressed through Lee’s relationship with the Trasks and Abra’s relationship with Aron. Steinbeck puts more emphasis on the choice aspect, letting the obligation and responsibility fall into the background as an assumed truth of life. He expresses the choice in the constant presence of timshel, “Thou mayest.” Each character makes the conscious choice to be his brother’s keeper, or not to be.

I got this for my short story “At the Edge of the Forest”:

I write like
L. Frank Baum

I Write Like by Mémoires, journal software. Analyze your writing!

I got this for my very short story “The Red Leather Journal”:

I write like
Bram Stoker

I Write Like by Mémoires, journal software. Analyze your writing!

And I got this for my short story “The Battle of Dor Otariel”:

I write like
James Joyce

I Write Like by Mémoires, journal software. Analyze your writing!

Not bad, not bad, huh? At least I didn’t get Stephenie Meyer.

And, just because I love you guys and am very happy at the moment, here’s an excerpt of the rough draft:

It’s happening.
I woke in a cold sweat this morning. My nose itched but I couldn’t reach up to scratch it. Straitjackets are rather inconvenient in that way. It’s easy enough to scratch one’s sides, or, if one’s toenails are sufficiently long, one’s ankle. But the nose is a whole other story, especially since they never leave anything sharp or rough enough to scratch against, like a wall or a bedpost.
But I woke in a cold sweat, on the floor of my room. There is no bed in here, since falling off a bed in a straitjacket would be quite painful, I imagine.
I woke in a cold sweat, on the floor of my room, because it’s happening. I knew it would happen eventually. They don’t build universes like they used to. It’s bound to fall apart some time. It would be nice though if it didn’t happen while I was in it. Limbo has always seemed perfectly functional, or so Oswald claims. He would know. He lives there.
I should probably tell someone. It would be unfortunate if this dimension collapsed and everyone was still here. Yes, that would be unfortunate.
It’s awful hard to knock on a door in a straitjacket. It’s warm, but I could do without having the sleeves tied behind me. I wonder who invented this thing. I wonder if he graduated elementary school. I slam myself into the door.
“Hello!” I say. “Is anyone there?”
It’s not like they’re going to pay attention to anything I say, anyway. After he closes the slot again he’s going to forget I ever said anything and not even mention it in his daily report. Oh well. I might as well try.
The slot opens soon enough.
“What do you want?” the attendant says. His eyes glare through the opening, looking down at me. He must be standing on a box. He’s not a very tall man. It’s strange that they put the slot so high up. Intimidating the guest, I assume.
“How nice of you to ask,” I say. “I want to let you know that the world will be ending soon. Six days, thirteen hours, and forty-two minutes, if you need to know. I would suggest you inform your superiors and we have something done about this as soon as possible. I have no desire to spend the rest of eternity with Oswald. He can be such a twit. It’s bad enough I have to talk to him every Sunday. Mother said it was either that or go to church, and I must admit that Oswald isn’t half as bad as those nitwits.”
“What?”
“The world is ending. Our universe is going kaboom. Would you want to spend an eternity with Oswald? I know I wouldn’t.”
There is a pause. He doesn’t know what to say. I shouldn’t blame him for that. They don’t hire the sharpest knives in the drawer. This one only pretended to graduate high school.
“Sure. Okay. I’ll take your comments into consideration.”
He closes the slot. I hear his footsteps going down the hallway, right on past the file cabinet with the blank report sheets, which is only a few feet down the hall from my door. Can’t say I didn’t try.

It’s NaNoWriMo season! The notebooks are out, the fingers are flexed, the plots are being a-plotted as NaNoWriMo-ists everywhere are counting down to the month for which they feverishly wait all year, November: that magical month in which eager, over-spilling ideas pour onto word processors and worlds are created.

Last year I wrote a novel called The House on the River Siranim about a young man named Belegorn who, after getting in some trouble concerning the daughter of the town’s spiritual leader, must enter the evil forest and kill the wicked enchantress. On this quest that can only end in death he is led to question the ideas he was taught since he was born and that he holds most dear. It’s going up chapter by chapter now, fully edited and proofread by the best 14-year-old editor and critic I know (no, it’s not myself. My ego isn’t that big), after its quick and messy journey from the confines of my mind onto paper.

This year’s preparation has been difficult for various reasons. First of all, I procrastinate like… well, like any normal high school student. I didn’t get around to even thinking about what I would write about until September. Then I couldn’t decide between two ideas, and I only chose one last week when I finally put my foot down and told myself, “Laura, you are going to pick one before November, gosh darn it!” So I closed my eyes, said a little rhyme about catching tigers and toes and things, and found my idea for NaNoWriMo ’10.

I hope you’ve all signed in and set up! The month is approaching…

The House on the River Siranim.