Great Expectations

[WARNING: This contains MAJOR spoilers]

Great Expectations is the thirteenth novel by Charles Dickens, published in 1861. It is also his penultimate completed novel. It’s an articulate but rather depressing coming-of-age [bildungsroman] novel, and depicts the growth and development of a young and [initially] rather naïve young orphan, Pip. It’s fully narrated in the first person, just like David Copperfield. Great Expectations is one of my favourite books; I’m not very fond of any of the characters, but it’s so well-written, and conveys Pip’s feelings so accurately, one can’t help but be caught up in Dickens’ storm of hopes and fears, friendship and betrayal, pain and rage, love and hate.  I was only thirteen the first time I read it, but I read it so thoroughly and thought about it for so long that I understood it well, even at that tender age when I knew nothing about the ways of the world.  I’ll do my best to do this book justice in this post, dear reader! Here goes!

The book is set in Kent and London in the mid-nineteenth century. On Christmas Eve, 1812, a quiet and thoughtful little orphan, Philip Pirrip [Pip], is accosted by an escaped convict in the village churchyard, while visiting the graves of his parents and siblings. Pip has been taken into custody by his violent older sister [she’s more than twenty years ahead of him] and her kind, gentle husband Joe Gargery, a blacksmith. The convict succeeds in scaring the child into stealing food and a file. The next morning, while everyone is asleep, Pip returns with the promised file, a pie, and some brandy. Pip’s theft is almost discovered at dinner that evening; however, soldiers arrive at the smithy and ask Joe to repair some shackles. Joe and Pip accompany the soldiers to the marshes, where Pip recognises the convict who threatened him last night; the wretched man is locked in a fight with another escaped criminal. The soldiers recapture the two men, and the first convict confesses to stealing food from the smithy, without dragging Pip into this mess [unexpected kindness!]. Though he is badly shaken by this incident [obviously], it soon becomes little more than a distant memory.

A year passes by uneventfully. Enter Miss Havisham [one of the darkest and most graphic characters in all of literature. I do not like her at all, but Dickens has done a particularly good job with this woman. She’s so extremely unlikeable, and rather mysterious in the beginning; I always saw analysing her as a challenge]. She is a wealthy spinster who still wears her old wedding dress and lives as a recluse in a dilapidated mansion called “Satis House”; she asks Mr. Pumblechook, an acquaintance of hers and a relative of the Gargerys, to find a boy to visit her and amuse her [I know. Whimsical much?]. Pip reluctantly visits Miss Havisham, and is deeply attracted to her adopted daughter, Estella, a devastatingly beautiful but cold and aloof young lady. She treats Pip with hostility because of his big, rough hands and patched boots. Miss Havisham encourages Estella’s unpleasant behaviour toward Pip, who visits Miss Havisham every Tuesday, until he is old enough to learn a trade. He dislikes and fears the eccentric Miss Havisham, but has learned to [somewhat] hide his revulsion. Soon, he is apprenticed to Joe and sets about learning the trade of the blacksmith. However, having met Estella, Pip yearns to rise above his station.

Joe’s surly and obnoxious assistant, Dolge Orlick, is envious of Pip and hates Mrs Joe. Orlick himself is a slow man, while Pip is bright and quick, and learns the trade relatively easily. When Pip and Joe are away from the house, Mrs Joe is violently attacked, and sustains severe injuries to her head. It is suspected that Orlick is behind the attack [yes, he is]. Mrs Joe loses the ability to speak; now that her tongue no longer runs wild, she becomes a surprisingly soft and humble person, and Pip and his childhood friend, an orphaned girl called Biddy, devote themselves to taking care of her. [Biddy is a wonderful person. She’s a much better person than Miss High-And-Mighty Estella, but Estella is far more interesting as a character].

Four years pass by in this fashion. Mr. Jaggers, a sharp, taciturn lawyer, informs Pip that he has been provided with money from an anonymous benefactor, so that he can “become a gentleman”. This gracious benefactor is assumed to be Miss Havisham. Pip, wishing to leave for London, decides to visit Miss Havisham one last time. At London, Pip takes up residence at Barnard’s Inn, and befriends Herbert Pocket, the jocular son of his tutor, Matthew Pocket, who is a cousin of Miss Havisham [and the only person, apart from Estella, whom the old lady remotely trusts]. Herbert and Pip have met once before—years before, when Herbert was rejected as a suitable companion for Estella. He knows a lot about Miss Havisham; he narrates to Pip the story of how Miss Havisham was cheated out of her inheritance and abandoned at the altar by her fiancé, turning her into a bitter, cruel woman who sees all men as her mortal enemies. [I was shocked by this story, and a fragment of pity for the broken-hearted Miss Havisham crept into my heart, but she doesn’t really deserve much sympathy. She even raised Estella to be a heartless monster. How can you prey on a young girl and control her life like that?]. Pip meets two other pupils—Bentley Drummle, a brutish rich brat, and a lad called Startop, who is agreeable.

Joe decides to visit Pip at Barnard’s Inn; Pip is ashamed of his brother-in-law’s coarse and uncultivated speech and manners. [That’s ungrateful of Pip. Joe raised him]. Through Joe, Pip learns that Estella will be at Satis House for a visit. When he returns to Satis House to meet Estella, he finds her favourably altered—she is less snobbish now, and much more mature. Pip finds himself unwilling to visit Joe, and returns to London, where he and Herbert exchange their romantic secrets: Pip is head-over-heels for Estella, while Herbert is engaged to a sweet, wise girl named Clara. Pip soon has occasion to meet Estella again—when she is sent to Richmond to be introduced into society.

Things don’t go very well for Pip from here—he doesn’t handle his money well and ends up running into debts, while Mrs Joe dies. He returns home for the funeral. When he comes of age at 21, his annual income is fixed at 500 pounds. Full of good intentions, he intends to help Herbert, who is in a tight spot himself, by anonymously securing him a position with the shipbroker, Clarriker’s. Pip encounters Estella again [they accidentally-on-purpose run into each other a lot, don’t they?] and takes her to Satis House, where she gets into an argument with Miss Havisham [Estella has been turned into such a cold, calculating girl that she can’t even love her benefactress and guardian. Love is a stranger to her. It’s Miss Havisham’s fault, of course, but Estella is still not someone who’s even remotely likeable—to me, at least]. In London, Pip notices Drummle’s attentions to Estella with growing alarm; when he tries to warn her of Drummle’s ruthless nature, she laughs at his fears and declares that she has no qualms about “entrapping” Drummle the way she has been taught.

Ah! Soon, dear reader, the mysterious benefactor’s identity will be revealed [it is not Miss Havisham]. A week after his twenty-third birthday, to his shock, Pip discovers that Abel Magwitch, the convict he encountered in the churchyard, is the one who has been helping him all this while. [Yes, let that sink in]. He was transported to New South Wales, and has gained enormous wealth after winning his freedom; however, he cannot return to England on pain of death. He is very grateful to the kind child who fed him on that forlorn day several years back, and has returned to England only for Pip. Pip is appalled, and stops taking money from him. Subsequently, he and Herbert devise a plan to help Magwitch escape from England. Sharing his history with Pip, Magwitch reveals that the criminal whom he fought in the churchyard that evening was none other than Compeyson, the fraudster who deserted Miss Havisham.

Pip returns to Satis House, hoping to catch a glimpse of Estella. He accuses Miss Havisham of misleading him about his benefactor. She admits to doing so. Pip declares his undying love for Estella, only to be coldly rejected; she tells him of her plans to marry that bestial Drummle. Devastated, Pip returns to London, where Jaggers’ clerk, Wemmick [with whom Pip has struck up a close friendship] warns him that Compeyson is seeking him, having found out about his connection to Magwitch and Miss Havisham. Pip and Herbert continue planning out Magwitch’s escape. A few days later, Pip is invited to Jaggers’ home for dinner; there, Wemmick reveals that Jaggers acquired his vicious-looking maidservant, Molly, several years ago, when he rescued her from the gallows [she was guilty of murder. Pip notices that she has several angry scars on the insides of her wrists]. He is both shaken and intrigued by this juicy piece of news. When he visits Miss Havisham again after a while, she tells him the story of how she adopted Estella. She is full of remorse [though the reason for her sudden change of heart is never revealed]. Prepare to be shocked—Estella is actually the child of Molly and Magwitch. As an infant, she was brought to Miss Havisham by Jaggers, and the spinster raised her to be an icy, gorgeous monster. [However, Miss Havisham herself knows nothing about Estella’s parentage; the above deduction is made by Pip, based off numerous facts he has gathered]. She asks Pip for his forgiveness, and informs him that Estella is now married.

She deeply regrets her manipulation of two promising youngsters. Though her sudden revelations shock and horrify Pip, he is not as bitter as I’d thought he’d be. Just as he is about to leave, Miss Havisham’s dress catches fire. Without hesitating, Pip saves her, sustaining injuries in the process. However, nothing can save Miss Havisham from her ultimate fate—death. She succumbs to her injuries soon. [I’d like your opinion here. How do you feel about her death?]. Pip confronts Jaggers with his deduction; Jaggers simply discourages Pip from investigating Estella’s parentage further. A few days before Magwitch’s great escape, Pip is suddenly attacked by Orlick [yes, the same guy who was thought to have assaulted Mrs Joe], who admits to having injured her. Just as he attempts to knock Pip down with a hammer, Herbert and Startop rush in and rescue Pip, restraining Orlick. The three of them then pick up Magwitch to row him to the steamboat for Hamburg, but alas! Their plans are foiled—they are intercepted by a police boat carrying Compeyson, who has offered to identify Magwitch. Magwitch and Compeyson get into a scuffle, and Compeyson is killed, while the grievously injured Magwitch is arrested.

Pip is painfully aware of the fact that Magwitch’s fortune will now go to the crown; however, Herbert, who is preparing to move to Cairo to manage Clarriker’s office there, offers Pip a position there. Pip regularly visits the hospitalised Magwitch as he awaits trial, and on Magwitch’s deathbed informs him that his daughter, Estella, is alive. After Herbert’s departure for Egypt, Pip falls seriously ill; he finds a devoted and tender nurse in Joe, the brother-in-law he used to be so ashamed of. Pip recovers steadily under Joe’s watchful care, and attempts to sincerely thank him, but the latter brushes it off. Realising that Biddy is worth ten of Estella, Pip proposes to her, only to discover that she has married Joe. [… Well, she wasn’t just going to sit around waiting for that prat named Pip forever, right? First come first served!]. Pip asks Joe to forgive him and, determined to make the most of his time by working hard, accepts Herbert’s warm-hearted offer and leaves for Cairo, where he lodges with Herbert and his wife Clara [that’s right, Herbert is married now]. The industrious and sharp-witted Pip quickly advances to the position of third-in-command; only then does Herbert learn that Pip paid for his position in the firm. His joy and gratitude know no bounds.

Pip works in Egypt for eleven years, after which he returns to England to visit Joe and Biddy [and their cute little son, Pip Jr.]. As you’ve probably noticed, Pip is irresistibly drawn to Satis House; the climax of the novel is no exception. When he visits the manor’s ruins, he encounters a much sadder and graver Estella—she has recently been widowed. Well, her married life was far from happy; Drummle proved to be abusive. She asks Pip to forgive her, assuring him that the rough-and-tumble of life has opened her eyes and heart. As Pip silently takes her hand and they leave the moonlit ruins, he declares that he sees “no shadow of another parting from her.” Two of the novel’s most well-drawn and poignantly depicted characters, brought together by a series of unfortunate events.

… I feel so accomplished after writing this! I do hope you enjoy reading this article, and I hope it strikes the chords of your heart!

See you next time!

Thank you!

Howards End

[WARNING: this contains MAJOR spoilers]

Howards End is a novel by E.M. Forster, published on 18^th October, 1910 [it’s such an old book, isn’t it? It’s a timeless classic that continues to enthral readers of all ages]. Set in turn-of-the-century England, the book explores social norms and conventions, codes of conduct, the role of men and women, and the strength—as well as the fragility—of human relationships. The book was conceived in 1908 and worked on throughout the following year; it was completed in July 1910. It’s one of the books I love best—it has a gripping and intriguing plot, but the simplicity of the language and the complexity of the characters [particularly Margaret Schlegel, the female protagonist] are even more remarkable. This book also focuses on one of my all-time favourite themes—class distinction! I hope you enjoy my post, dear reader! Let’s plunge right into it, then.

The plot revolves around three families at the dawn of the twentieth century—the wealthy Wilcoxes, extremely rich capitalists with a fortune made in the colonies; the half German Schlegel siblings [Margaret, her younger sister Helen, and their sixteen-year-old dyspeptic brother Tibby], highly intellectual and unconventional young people [Margaret and Helen, for instance, are prone to questioning societal norms, and are voracious readers]; and the Basts, an impoverished young couple from a lower background. They live a depressing, hand-to-mouth existence. Leonard, the bread-earner, aspires to raise himself out of his situation by somehow connecting with the upper classes.  The Schlegel sisters, for all their intelligence, are utterly naïve and idealistic, and seek to help the poor Basts while simultaneously ridding the narrow-minded Wilcoxes of some of their deep-rooted socio-economic prejudices.

It is revealed that the Schlegel sisters first met the Wilcoxes on a tour to Germany; Helen, the more romantic and impetuous of the two, soon visits the Wilcoxes at their country house, Howards End. In spite of the ideological differences between the Schlegels and the Wilcoxes, she quickly befriends them. However, something unforeseen occurs—she becomes romantically attracted to the younger [and very irresponsible] Wilcox son, Paul; these two idiots actually think they’re in love, though they’ve barely spent an evening or two in the other’s company! They become engaged in haste, but soon regret their decision, and the engagement is broken off with mutual consent. Helen obviously wants nothing more to do with Wilcoxes [though let me clarify, it was her fault as much as Paul’s. She may be really smart, but her head was full of impractical notions of “love at first sight”]. However, later that year, the Wilcoxes move to London, taking up residence in an apartment next to the Schlegels’. The matriarch, Ruth Wilcox, immediately takes a shine to Margaret, because of the young woman’s frank, open and quick-witted nature; for her part, Margaret finds Mrs Wilcox to be far more flexible and childlike than the other members of her family. Mrs Wilcox is an invalid who is suffering from an unknown terminal illness; a strange friendship develops between these two different women [though she is too polite to say so, Ruth prefers Margaret to Helen; Margaret may be a little hot-headed and intimidating, but there’s no nonsense in her, even if she’s still a little impractical for her twenty-eight years]. Howards End actually belongs to Ruth, and is the one thing she treasures the most; to her, it’s not just a house—it has a spirit of its own. [This sentiment is echoed by Margaret later in the book].

The rest of the Wilcoxes do not share or understand her tender feelings for the old house. Mrs Wilcox is a perceptive woman, and she sees a kindred spirit in Margaret; while on her deathbed, she pens a note to her husband and children, bequeathing Howards End to Margaret. When the widowed Mr Wilcox reads this note, it causes him great consternation and he declares it to have been written in a moment of great illness, as his wife clearly didn’t know what she was doing; he and his children burn the note without letting Margaret know of her inheritance. [Mr Wilcox’s first name is Henry, so I’m gonna call him that now, OK?]. These Wilcoxes won’t even respect the last wishes of a selfless, gentle, unconditionally loving wife and mother! The book skims through a few years; Margaret and Henry run into each other in London, and renew their acquaintance. They’re very different people, but opposites attract, so their friendship blossoms into romance, and Henry proposes to Margaret [in a rather taciturn, completely unromantic way]; she accepts with little to no hesitation. However, their life is far from a bed of roses—everything about them is different. The spunky, sharp-tongued, intelligent, compassionate and observant Margaret tries to get the rigidly chauvinistic and conventional Henry to open up more—to no avail. Henry’s children are not pleased with their father’s engagement, and are passive-aggressive toward her; but the only real opposition comes from the oldest son, Charles, and his wife Dolly.

Meanwhile, what’s happening to the Basts? Leonard is living with but not married to Jacky, an emotionally troubled, extremely vulnerable “fallen” woman, shunned by society, for whom he feels responsible. Leonard is a clerk at the Porphyrion Agency, but is soon forced to quit his job, as Henry makes a vague remark about the Porphyrion “not being safe”, though it’s as safe as can be. He takes up another job, but has to quit that as well; now, he’s stuck in the hopeless abyss all unemployed people find themselves in. Henry refuses to take any responsibility, causing Helen [who blames herself for the Basts’ troubles, as she was the one who asked Leonard to quit the Porphyrion in the first place] to resent him deeply. She encounters the starving Basts, and brings them to Margaret and Henry, whereupon Henry recognises Jacky as his former mistress. Yes, that’s right; can you imagine this tight-lipped, staunchly rigid man having a mistress? Unfortunately, it’s true! Though Margaret doesn’t even blame or question him, he flees from the scene, breaking off his engagement to Margaret. This paranoid idiot believes that the Schlegels and Basts have concocted a plan to trap him, but that’s obviously not true; in a while he calms down and tells Margaret the truth. Ten years ago was the time, Cyprus the place; he became involved with Jacky despite being married, then dumped her. Now she’s the one who has to bear the stigma. Margaret is, of course, dreadfully disturbed by this news, and confronts Henry about his ill-treatment of Jacky. He’s embarrassed, but not apologetic. Margaret ceases to berate him and attempts to salvage their relationship by staying at his side. She forgives him. [Is she an angel…? No. She’s a really, really strong-willed and kind-hearted woman. Much, much stronger than Henry].

As expected, the Schlegel sisters drift apart, partly because Margaret’s refusal to leave Henry, partly because of Helen’s hostility toward her sister’s future husband. She is further distressed when she hears the shocking details of Henry’s affair from Leonard, and is suddenly overwhelmed by love and pity for him; she ends up momentarily forgetting the brutal reality of Leonard’s situation, and sees him as a romantic figure. You can imagine what happens next, can’t you? The two succumb to their feelings of mutual passion. Finding herself pregnant, Helen travels to Germany, as she is well aware that she will be excluded from society, should she continue living in England. However, she later returns to England upon learning that her aunt is ill. She refuses to meet Margaret, and her replies to Margaret’s lengthy letters are terse and evasive, making her sister and Tibby fear for her mental health. A few possessions of Helen’s are stored at Howards End; knowing that she will wish to retrieve them, Margaret surprises her by suddenly accosting her at the house [this was, as you’ve probably guessed, Henry’s suggestion—entice Helen to Howards End and then demand to know the reason behind her irrational behaviour]. However, as soon as they encounter Helen at Howards End, they see the truth.

Margaret does not hesitate to stand by her sister in these times. She attempts to persuade Henry that if she can forgive his transgression, he should be able to forgive Helen hers. But no! Mr Self-Righteous Wilcox refuses, stating that Helen is a woman who has committed a sin! Margaret is disgusted by his hypocrisy. Meanwhile, Leonard, overcome with guilt, arrives at Howards End without knowing that Helen is there as well; he wants to come clean to Margaret. All of a sudden, Charles Wilcox bursts upon the scene, taking matters into his own hands, and attacks Leonard for daring to “insult” Helen. He hits Leonard with the flat of a heavy old German sword. Leonard grabs onto a nearby book-case, causing it to topple onto himself; it is revealed that he has a weak heart—he dies on the spot. Margaret, upset with everything that’s happened ever since she got involved with the Wilcoxes, informs Henry of her decision to leave him. Charles is convicted of man-slaughter and sentenced to three years in prison. The scandal and the shock have a profound impact on Henry, causing him to critically re-evaluate his life. He realises his wrong-doings, and begins empathising with others. Writing a new will, he bequeaths Howards End to Margaret, just as Ruth wanted. He further decrees that, after Margaret’s death, the property will go to Helen and her son. Helen, reconciled with both Margaret and Henry, decides to bring her son up at Howards End.

All these complicated [and ridiculously long] events lead up to a satisfactory, almost dreamy conclusion. Poetic beauty at its finest. Margaret is a uniting figure, someone who resolves the dreary conflict by making an extremely noble choice to stand by her sister, while reversing her decision to leave her husband. She is a wise and loving sister, an extremely comforting and  dutiful wife, and an affectionate aunt. I hope they can live happily ever after… I really love and look up to Margaret. She isn’t perfect—far from it—but that’s what makes me love her so much. She’s so incredible.

Once again, I hope you enjoy reading this loooong article!

See ya!

Thank you!

My Perspective on the Rich and Complex History of Germany [Modern Period]

Hello friend, today’s post is going to be about my thoughts on German history. Germany as a country has always fascinated me, and even as a kid I was vaguely aware of the fact that I wanted to explore its history in great detail. At that time [I must have been… twelve? I don’t really remember], I obviously didn’t know much about Germany—I just felt drawn toward it, and cherished the hope that I would study it when I grew up—and my feelings must’ve been very strong, because my wish came true! Now, I’m sure you’re wondering why I chose to write on this topic—I just completed A Levels, and I was studying German history; the Holocaust and Hitler’s period in power were two different components—interconnected, but different. I’m still reading up on a lot of stuff, so I wanted to share my thoughts with you. It’s not just the events leading up to the Second World War that interest me, though—I’m also reading about the “Unification of Germany” [1871], which was a topic in AS Level History.

Now, every country has its own culture and history, but if you asked me to explain what exactly led me to study German history, I’m not sure I could explain properly. All I can say is that I had a gut feeling that this is what I should pursue; besides, the Holocaust was something that shook the world to its core, and I was curious about it. I was appalled at the thought that someone could actually conceive such a cruel idea, and implement it as well; I wanted to know everything about it. The causes. The effects. The thoughts of the perpetrators, the thoughts of the victims. The aftermath. Even now, I’ve seen people who shudder and refuse to talk about it when anyone brings up that fatal topic. The way people act, you’d think the word was a bomb…

As someone who wants to be a historian, I approached it in a… shall we say… practical way. Gotta see both sides of the case; it doesn’t matter which side you agree with—you must present a balanced argument. Now, there’s a complicated series of events that led up to the Holocaust, and even to this day, there’s ambiguity surrounding it. Historians disagree on whether or not the Holocaust [1941-45] was carefully pre-mediated by Hitler before he came to power in January 1933 [he was appointed Chancellor, so he won his position through legal and constitutional means]. Historians who argue that at least a basic idea of the extermination campaign was conceived by Hitler long before 1941, and that he was following a carefully designed plan of action that would eventually lead to the outbreak of war, are known as Intentionalists. Notable historians include Lucy Dawidowicz. Those who take a specific stance against such an interpretation are known as Functionalists. Notable historians include Hans Mommsen and Martin Broszat. Mommsen, in particular, is known for his theory that Hitler was a ‘weak dictator’—a theory that has been highly contested and debated by fellow historians. Functionalists argue that there was no ‘master plan’ on Hitler’s part; intentionalists argue that due to the importance placed on hierarchy, the initiative came from above, i.e. from Hitler [the Führer, or Leader], while functionalists state that it came from the lower ranks within the bureaucracy [though neither side disputes Hitler’s authority; both agree that his control over the bureaucracy was tight].

Mommsen has argued that while it cannot be denied that Hitler was the Third Reich’s master, he was not as strong as people claimed him to be, and there was great chaos and disharmony in the political departments under him. According to him, the Final Solution was a “cumulative radicalisation” of the aspirations and thoughts of Hitler’s immediate subordinates—especially Hermann Goering, Minister Without Portfolio, and Heinrich Himmler, the leader of the SS [Schutzstaffel, the Protection Squad].  

 There’s evidence to support Mommsen’s argument—some of Hitler’s underlings have declared him to be lazy; besides, he apparently had little to no interest in documents, and left the paper-work to others. However, to argue against this argument, we shall have to return to the initial years of Hitler’s period in power—the Night of the Long Knives [June 30^th-July 2nd, 1934] is a prime example of the extent to which Hitler would go to  in order to exterminate his political opponents. This is not the mark of a weak dictator. Also, due to Hitler’s ability to manipulate people and win them over, it has been argued by historians that the afore-mentioned chaos in the political departments was deliberately caused by Hitler. Why? To keep everyone on their toes. With all the rivalries and back-stabbing, each department would closely monitor the work of their opponents, ensuring that the government functioned as smoothly as a well-oiled machine. [… Sorry, I just had to use this comparison].  What do I think? I’m still green, but I have developed my opinions enough to present them here—I do not completely agree with either view. There’s another group of historians known as “Synthesists”—unlike the intentionalists and functionalists, they have a more balanced interpretation, and state that Hitler was clearly the mastermind behind the Final Solution, but it’s equally true that Goering and Himmler contributed a lot; without them, it wouldn’t have been impossible to implement the Holocaust, I suppose, but it would’ve been very difficult.  I haven’t come across many synthesists, though—the only one I know is Ian Kershaw [who’s extremely famous. He was close to Mommsen, though their approaches were quite different]. Sigh… I’ve still got a lot to learn… I’m excited!

You must be wondering why I haven’t mentioned Mein Kampf [German for “My Struggle”], which Hitler wrote in prison in 1923. He was an ardent supporter of Darwin’s theory of evolution, and the book outlines his political ideology, his racial and social views/prejudices, and what he experienced growing up, as well as some thoughtful and frighteningly accurate comments on the darkness of human nature. Most notable is his idea of “Lebensraum”, or “living space”. He believed that, in order to let the Germans live comfortably, they needed more land—land that must be taken from Poland and the erstwhile USSR. [After all, that’s why the Second World War began—Hitler broke his ten-year-long non-aggression pact with Poland and invaded the country on September 1^st, 1939]. So, my point is that intentionalists use this book as proof that Hitler intended to execute the Holocaust and spark a major war from the beginning. However, it must be kept in mind that Mein Kampf was also a propaganda book. At least some part was written to win the populace over to his side. All I’m saying is that you can’t just rely on it as fool-proof evidence.  There were situations when Hitler messed up, you know. The occupation and dismemberment of Czechoslovakia [1938-45] and the invasion of Poland are good examples of that. 

… A pretty long post, right? I just needed to get all of this off my chest. I grab at new ideas and concepts, and compare them to what I’ve learnt. [ That’s why this post is so full of ideas, arguments/counter-arguments, and references].

I need to talk about Anne Frank, then I’ll be done. She is an example of just how cruel the world can be, especially to youngsters.  I read in an article by Marianne Levy, “The world failed Anne Frank. Please,75 years later, let it not fail our children. Not for nothing was there a Hitler Youth.” I agree whole-heartedly. We must educate the new generation. Don’t hide it from them. Let them ask questions. Maybe, this way… we can make the world a better place.

See you next time.

Thank you! I hope you liked my article!

La Belle Dame sans Merci

Hello Friend, I’m back with another post! This post is about one of my favourite poems, La Belle Dame sans Merci [The Beautiful and Merciless Woman]; I’ve mentioned this poem in a post I wrote two weeks back, titled “On Fairies”.  This poem, which is by John Keats and was published in 1819, is one of the most closely analysed works of fairy literature, and has been adapted into various forms of media. Keats often dwelt on themes such as death and love, and this poem is proof of that; it is extremely striking and memorable due to the graphic and tragic way in which it portrays the forbidden love between a human [a knight in the poem] and an otherworldly creature [in this case, a fairy]. The language used is extremely beautiful and evocative; besides, it’s obviously not the English we use these days, but it’s actually quite easy to understand. Here goes!

The poem begins with the speaker addressing a knight, asking him, “O what can ail thee, knight-at-arms, alone and palely loitering? The sedge has withered from the lake, and no birds sing!” This knight is clearly troubled by something—he is “alone” and “palely loitering”. In the second stanza, the speaker presses the knight further, but receives no answer; he compares the knight’s deathly pale brow to a lily [I told you the language is beautiful], and comments on how bloodless his cheek is: “And on thy cheeks a fading rose fast withereth too”. The knight then narrates his sad tale; it’s a tale fit for winter [and, indeed, the season does seem to be winter, though it’s not explicitly stated]. He states that he met an extremely beautiful woman in the woods, and one glance told him she was a fairy. She is described as having long hair, light and quick feet, and wild eyes. [I believe the wildness in her eyes is a foreshadowing of what is to come]. The knight is smitten, and makes garlands of flowers for her head, wrists, and waists; she looks at him expressively, and the knight believes she’s in love with him […how gullible. She’s not in love with him at all. She never even said she loves him].

She leads him to her fairy cave [ they travel on his horse], and this man is completely under her spell; and when she sings, I think she reinforces the power of the enchantment.  He is actually not in love with her either, of course. He’s bewitched—by her beauty, by her voice, by whatever magic she cast over him. When they eventually reach her cave [ her “Elfin grot”], she weeps and sighs [for some unfathomable reason], until the knight shuts her “wild, wild” eyes with kisses. [See? “Wild” has been repeated. Just wait for what happens next]. She lulls him into a deep slumber, and he dreams a horrific, graphic dream:

“I saw pale kings, and princes too,

Pale warriors, death-pale were they all;

They cried, “La Belle Dame sans Merci

Hath thee in thrall!”

They’re men like him, broken by her [literally] devastating beauty and spells. He awakens with a jolt, desperately hoping, I’m sure, that it was just a dream; however, it’s not—he is not in her cave anymore. He’s lying on the cold hill’s side. That’s terrible, but not shocking—that woman appearing before him so conveniently was too good to be true, don’t you think?

The knight concludes his chilling story in this manner:

“And this is why I sojourn here,

Alone and palely loitering,

Though the sedge has withered from the lake,

And no birds sing.”

The ending echoes the beginning. This poem is so prettily worded, isn’t it? Too pretty, perhaps; the words emphasise the morbid nature of the poem. However, there’s no beating around the bush, and the poet does not try to disguise or sugar-coat the themes of the poem, as some poets try to do.  I love this poem [I’m sure you already know that though, haha] and I know it by heart!  I wish poets would produce such masterpieces again!

That’s all for now!

I hope you liked my article!

Thank you! See you next time!