Future Educator & Lifelong Learner

Author: Kimberly

Final Reflections

On Nature Writing

The first text that especially struck me was Ann Zwinger’s A Rinse in the River. As I wrote in my journal, “Zwinger focuses more on the human history within nature,” and I appreciated the sense of intimacy she incorporated in her work. What I learned about nature writing from this short essay is that it can remind us of the past while grounding us in the present through natural imagery and description. Another text I liked was Manifesto: The Mad Farmer Liberation Front by Wendell Berry. I wrote that I appreciated the “critique of modern society and our inclination to want everything at our fingertips,” which I felt was an integral part of agrarianism. From this poem, I learned that nature poetry doesn’t have to consist of the most beautiful, imagery-filled lines to be considered in this category. The third and final text that stood out to me was Ursula LeGuin’s The Wife’s Story because I felt like it was a really unique twist on a classic tale. I think what I learned from this piece was that the meaning a reader is supposed to gain from nature writing doesn’t have to be obvious and that sometimes you have to work to discover what the author really wants you to take away.

The first important insight I had was from the journal associated with Simard, Svensson, and Kimmerer when I realized that I tend to engage with the natural world through memory and my senses. I noted that while memory allows me to connect better with the environment, my senses help me to be more present. Another significant insight I had occurred in a recursive entry after reading Wendell Berry. His work made me think about “how disconnected people are from the food we eat and the land that grows it.” I felt like, after this, I became much more aware of what I was eating in the sense that I wasn’t mindlessly putting food in my body without recognizing where it came from. A final insight I had was in regards to nature films, and I wrote that “filmmaker[s] can explore more intense and in-depth themes because there isn’t as much emphasis on figurative language.” While I don’t necessarily agree with how I worded it, I would say the sentiment still stands. If I were to rethink this reflection on nature films, I would probably say that the intense themes you can explore through text can be enhanced using film.

Overall, I feel like what we’ve done over the semester has shown me how many different types of nature writing exist, and it especially opened my eyes to genres that don’t rely only on text. I think more deeply about nature writing, and I’ve noticed that I try to distinguish different lenses of thought outside of this class. I think nature writing helps us do a number of things, but connecting with a world we’ve become disconnected from is a big one. It also teaches us about things we may never have known and thought about previously. I think nature writing makes nature more accessible, and that’s really important if we are hoping to achieve social equity.

On Myself as a Nature Writer

I think the biggest theme I’ve explored this semester through my writing is the overall human connection with nature as a way to learn about yourself. In my CNF piece, I wrote about my connection with the woods and how important it is to me. For my poem, I went a bit more abstract, but it was all about nature helping to relieve the monotony that people quite often fall into. Finally, for my fiction piece, the story is about a man who becomes one with nature, not only because that’s his desire but also because he has to in order to survive. Family was also an important theme, at least in my long-form writings. My fiction piece was directly about my ancestors, but even in my CNF essay, I speak of the woods as if they’re part of my family.

I’ve learned a lot about myself as a writer. I prefer writing CNF and fiction over poetry because I can get more detailed, but I also realized I like keeping my writing on the shorter side. I find that it’s more impactful at times to say less. I also reaffirmed what I’ve realized in the past that my writing is stronger when I have a personal connection with the subject matter. Something that surprised me was how much I liked fiction writing. It’s something that’s always intimidated me because I read novels and couldn’t understand how someone was able to come up with totally imagined plot lines and characters. Doing it myself on a smaller scale made me realize I could be a fiction writer, I just needed to find the right subgenre of fiction to be able to succeed.

That being said, I’m so proud of “Otho’s Wilderness.” I think it’s one of the first works of fiction I’ve ever written that I actually like and isn’t cliche. My favorite line from the entire piece is “Gettin’ lost in your thoughts can be deadly out here, and with everyone startin’ to wake up, I have no intention of pissin’ off a bull moose or wolf pack because I wasn’t payin’ attention to where I was goin’.” I felt like I was able to depict my relative fairly accurately despite never meeting him, and based on the feedback I received, it said a lot about this man’s character. This piece really makes me want to write an entire book about the adventures of Otho, and I feel like I could definitely do it now after hearing the praise from my classmates.

As a nature writer, I can definitely see myself continuing on in the creative nonfiction and fiction genres. I want to keep writing about how nature plays a role in our lives because I think we forget that sometimes. Our lives get stressful and we don’t pay attention to the natural world, but I hope my writing can remind people of its beauty and necessity.

On Climate Writing

First Thoughts

These texts seem pretty similar to how others approach climate change. I’ve noticed that there tend to be two categories of climate change writing: those that glaze over the problem while being abundantly hopeful and those that present climate change in a way that is nihilistic and depressing. Each of our readings seems to fit into one of those categories for me. The texts that resonate with me have more of a combination approach to the subject with the author stating directly what is going to happen if we don’t do something about climate change but listing some possible solutions as well.

I think there are a few audiences for writing about climate change. There’s one audience that is trying to learn about the climate crisis and another that is already aware and looking for signs of hope that we’ll be able to overcome it. I think there is overlap too, because people who have a basic knowledge of this subject may also want to know if there is any way to avoid or get past the issue. I think combined, these writings do significant work to meet these needs and hopes, and I think it’s especially helpful in The Ministry for the Future that the author doesn’t coddle the reader by presenting a very possible, dismal future.

I think writing about climate change does a lot to inform us about it, can highlight the urgency of acting, and alleviate anxieties that may stem from climate change. Obviously, one thing it can’t do is actually solve the climate crisis, but I think by writing about it, you have some influence on people which could lead to a solution.

Final Thoughts

I thought Kim Stanley Robinson’s The Ministry for the Future most resonated with me because I had never read anything like this text. I thought it was interesting how Robinson took real policies and imagined a possible and probable future based on those ideas. In terms of its approach to communicating the climate crisis, I think I said it best previously: “the author doesn’t coddle the reader by presenting a very possible, dismal future.” I think this is an effective approach because even though Robinson doesn’t sugarcoat what is happening to the world in this possible future, just like in real life, she reports both the highs and the lows. In other words, yes, it’s definitely sad at certain times, but the reader is able to see the characters try to fix the issues in their entirety which makes solving the climate crisis seem much more doable.

I mentioned this in my previous entry, but I think the most important thing that writing can do to help with climate change is that it keeps us informed. My insights have developed, though, in the sense that writing about the climate crisis is effective because it can introduce the problem as new and interesting. When we only hear about climate change and the efforts to remedy it on the news, after a while, we tune it out, and although you could read dense articles or scholarly journals, these texts aren’t for everyone. Climate writing can be extremely accessible, and since this genre ranges from realistic to fantastical, there’s something for everyone. 

I decided to write a historical fiction piece that I knew I’d be able to write more about in the future. I based it on my own family history, with a special focus on my 2nd great-granduncle who was the first game warden in Alaska to fly a plane. I knew I wanted to write about him at some point this semester, and since I had been struggling to come up with something for this assignment, I decided now was as good a time as any. I feel like I did a really good job with dialogue and characterization. Fiction writing isn’t usually my first choice because I tend to have a hard time making dialogue sound realistic and creating characters that are dynamic, but I felt really good about my piece for these reasons. One thing I learned about nature writing from this piece is that it’s so helpful to ground fiction writing in history or real events when possible. Especially for me, since I don’t tend to write fiction, it’s difficult to pull a story out of thin air, so having that extra support makes the act of writing in this genre less overwhelming. One thing I learned about myself as a nature writer is that I just need to find the right things to write about. I spent most of this unit trying desperately to make another idea work, but I didn’t have any connection to it. However, when I finally started writing my final piece using my family history as a launch point, the writing went smoothly and I eliminated the writing block I was feeling.

On Fiction

First Thoughts

When I read, I’m more likely to pick up fiction, but since most of the books I read are set in a dystopian future, the characters are usually at odds with nature. This relationship usually isn’t a major theme in the books I read, but rather it’s a way for worldbuilding to occur. I think fiction is a really interesting mode for nature writing because the author can explore similar themes as in CNF, but they aren’t limited to their own narrative or to a completely factual, journalistic approach. This makes fiction really appealing to people who don’t have the ability to engage in nature very often but still care about it. I think one of the challenges of fiction for nature writing is the fact that it is such an open genre where the only limits are your imagination, so it seems like as a writer, you could easily be overwhelmed by the amount of detail that goes into creating your story.

Final Thoughts

The text that resonated with me most from our fiction readings was Ursula LeGuin’s The Wife’s Story. There are so many elements of this story that I appreciate, but I think what I like most is how much this piece adds to the field of nature writing despite the fact that what we gain is not apparent at first glance. Even though the story boils down to a reverse werewolf tale, the point that LeGuin seems to be making, considering we don’t know the characters start as wolves, is that human life is not that different from other animals. I think this is a very important perspective on nature because as I wrote in my journal “we don’t usually think of animal social structures as being related to our own.” This specific story differs obviously from other genres of nature writing because there are some supernatural elements at play. In a wider sense, the idea that fiction doesn’t have to be true or realistic allows the author to create a story that makes a very specific point as opposed to recognizing an existing point in a story that you are retelling.

Before we started reading fiction nature writing, I figured it would all be very different from reality, and while this may be true to some degree, I realized that our fiction readings were much more true to life than I had originally thought. In my first reflection, I noted that I thought the biggest challenge of this genre was that “the only limits are your imagination” so it would be easy to get lost in your own story, but fiction doesn’t have to be entirely removed from real life. In a book like Oryx and Crake, for example, although it takes place in an apocalyptic setting, so many pieces of the story are just elevated versions of science and technology we have today. I think what fiction brings to the conversation of nature writing is that it can help bring together elements of real-life that we may not have otherwise connected, but need to be seen together in order to understand something important about the world we live in.

On Poetry

First Thoughts

Like with CNF, I don’t think I’ve read much nature poetry despite taking a poetry class. However, in that class, I wrote some of my own poetry which often referred to elements of nature. Poetry as a genre has so many possibilities because the form is almost limitless, but one of the things I love about it is that the way poetry is written can affect the reader in physical ways. For instance, breaking lines in unexpected ways can make the reader feel breathless. If you combine this with a poem that consists of a long, winding sentence filled with imagery and detail that ends with one choppy sentence or word, then the reader feels like they are running aimlessly only to get the wind knocked out of them at the end, which builds and resolves the tension. This can make nature poetry incredibly engaging so the reader is completely absorbed in the writing. One of the challenges with poetry is that it’s typically shorter meaning that complex ideas can be difficult to convey unless you are purposeful in your word choices and the images you use.

Final Thoughts

I really loved Don’t Bother the Earth Spirit by Joy Harjo. It was a shorter piece, but it was intense and the message of nature having a duality about it really resonated with me. In terms of craft, it was interesting how this poem was written in prose and I think that added to the conversational tone that it has. I also liked how Harjo juxtaposes the Earth Spirit’s emotional warmth with the dark story she told. The insight I had about nature from this piece was that nature isn’t just something to write about when it’s beautiful, but that nature can also be dangerous and that side of it is just as important to write about. Something I learned about nature writing is that format can play an important role in conveying a message. Finally, when it comes to my philosophy of nature, I realized that I focus a lot more on the beauty of nature which is only a small part of what nature is, and in order to get a fuller understanding, I need to embrace the dark side of nature.

I have really appreciated how all of these poems come from different perspectives on the environment and how humans are involved in it. I also liked how someone could say so much in a poem even when they weren’t super long. There’s just a different feeling that I get when I read poetry versus CNF, but I think purpose-wise, they can accomplish similar things for nature writing. Still, poetry seems to be better suited for speaking on moments or feelings that aren’t attached to a larger story, while CNF is a better form for telling narrative experiences or discussing subjects with more concrete reasoning and evidence.

My poem is a commentary on how people don’t seem to live their lives truly engaged in the moment and how nature could be a way to do that. I wrote it in the hour we spent outside during lab and I remember that day I was feeling particularly restless about my own life. In workshop, one of the things I took away from what everyone said was that what I wrote about was relatable and I think that was partially because I was able to choose the right words to describe how I was feeling. One thing I learned about nature writing in this process was that nature doesn’t have to be the starting point but that it can guide you through a particular idea. Something I learned about myself is that the combination of writing my thoughts down and sitting out in the sun does wonders for my emotional state because I was feeling super stressed before we went outside, but after I felt totally at peace, at least for a little while.

I feel like my ideas have evolved about poetry since I wrote my original reflection. At the start, I saw poetry as a way to describe beautiful scenery and flowery messages in concentrated detail, but there’s definitely more to nature writing poetry than this. A lot of poems we read spoke more on bigger issues in the natural world and the different frameworks we can approach the environment which I thought was so powerful and had never thought about as poetry. I think overall I’ve just broadened my perspective on poetry as a form of nature writing and the types of messages it can convey.

On CNF

First Thoughts

The nature writing I read most is usually creative nonfiction in the form of personal narratives or other narrative-based essays. Creative nonfiction is actually my favorite genre to write, so in general, I get very excited to read other writers from this genre and analyze their craft choices. That said, I can’t think of any specific works that stand out to me, but I get the most enjoyment out of writing that draws on nature and the environment as a source of imagery and symbolism where you wouldn’t necessarily expect it. I think one of the great things about communicating about nature in this way is there are almost endless possibilities when it comes to how the writer chooses to tell their story, such as which perspective to write from or what format would best convey the writer’s point. This can be a challenge as well because having so many options can be overwhelming and it can be easy for the point of the writing to get muddled during the writing process.

Final Thoughts

I’ve really enjoyed being able to see the natural world through the eyes of many different writers. Even though I’ve never been to most of the places that were written about, I felt like I could start to get to know them through the writers’ descriptions and commentary. Something I appreciate from this form of writing as a whole is that you can discuss a larger environmental issue through so many different lenses, including personal experience. I really like this because, across the form, there is a lens that just about every reader can connect with, making this a highly accessible way to read nature writing.

One essay that resonated with me was Lauren Markham’s The Crow Whisperer. As I was reading, I felt like I could relate to what she was talking about because I think it’s fairly easy to understand wildlife if you take the time to watch and listen. One thing that I really liked about this piece, in particular, was that she had an investigative approach. Not only did she relay personal experiences, but she also included testimonies from Buigues and the scientific perspective on communicating with animals. This made the article very well-rounded, and I appreciated having multiple perspectives to see the story. The insight I had about nature was that wildlife isn’t that different from humans. We both want respect from our neighbors and space to live as we please. In terms of nature writing, the biggest thing I learned was that vivid imagery doesn’t have to be the primary component of the piece for it to be good. Having comprehensive research on your subject can be just as impactful. Finally, this article didn’t necessarily shift my own philosophy of nature, but it did validate how I felt about how wildlife needs us just as much as we need them.

My CNF essay is about the meaning of paradise, and how that means the middle of the woods for me. I started writing it as our first lab free write and at the end of that session, I had the beginnings of the essay, though I did slightly modify it. When I went back to continue it, I didn’t really know where I was going, so I just decided to let my mind wander as I wrote. I think something I did well in this essay was capturing my imagination through imagery. There wasn’t a concrete place I had in mind while I was writing besides the wooded area behind my house, so the imagery really helped to ground the essay. One thing I learned about nature writing is that it can be hard to choose just one thing to write about since there are so many parts of nature to consider. Along these same lines, something I learned about myself is that sometimes simple is better. I often don’t write despite having a million ideas because I want to write about all of them, so this was a good way for me to practice restraint.

My original thoughts about creative nonfiction essays have become more developed. I talked originally about how nature writing in this form is so nuanced because not only are there a ton of things to write about, creative nonfiction is a vast genre that encompasses everything from personal narratives to journalism. Something I’ve come to realize though is that within each subgenre, the author’s style can greatly distinguish them from others writing similar things. I think the most important thing I’ve learned about creative nonfiction is just how diverse it is and because of this, just about anyone can find something that resonates with them in this genre.

First Reflections

I grew up and currently live in a pretty wooded area of southern coastal Maine, but my family is from farther north, so I feel very at home in the woods. My entire family loves camping, and my parents are no exception. I was born on Memorial Day, which is the start of camping season in Maine, so I was only a few weeks old when I went on my first tenting trip. To this day, I can’t wait for May to come because it means spending more time outside enjoying the fresh air away from WiFi and screens. 

I know I’ve read a decent amount of nature writing, but the only specific piece I can remember is an excerpt from Annie Dillard’s essay, Of Frogs and Flowers. Her writing style is so engaging to me because she talks about nature in such a whimsical way, at least in the excerpt I read, that it almost doesn’t feel real. Still, you can imagine yourself in her place experiencing the world through her eyes which is really cool. I think nature writing can be informational or for entertainment. Quite often, I think nature writing accomplishes both, either intentionally or simply because of the subject matter. With all this considered, nature writing can be an effective tool for conservation efforts because not only does it provide the information needed to understand how important nature is, but it also keeps the reader engaged. 

As a writing minor, I’ve been able to write in a lot of different styles and formats, mostly creatively, and I have already integrated a substantial amount of nature into my work. One thing I’ve noticed though is that I tend to write mostly about plant life and weather phenomena. While this is a subject matter I like to engage with, I’d also like to write about animals, specifically endangered or not commonly known species.

Fiction: “Otho’s Wilderness”

“Carl, you know I couldn’t let you do that.”

“Oh yeah? Why not, Otho?” my brother asked as I followed him into the cabin. 

“What’s goin’ on boys?” Pa sat at the kitchen table updating the farm register by the light of the oil lamp. “Why all the hollerin’?”

“Otho robbed me of a bear kill!” Carl exclaimed. “It must’ve weighed close to 600 pounds, too. We would’ve eaten well for some time off that bear!”

“What’s the meanin’ of this, Otho?” Pa turned to me.

“He’s not tellin’ you the whole story, Pa,” I said as Ma walked in from the clothesline, basket on her hip. “This bear had cubs.”

Ma dropped her basket to the floor. “What’s all this about a bear and her cubs?”

“Otho wouldn’t let me take the shot at a goodsized bear just because she had a few cubs with her,” Carl explained to her. 

“Well, were the cubs old enough to be on their own?” Ma questioned. Pa looked just as interested to get an answer.

“They looked old enough to me,” he replied, looking at me with a smug expression only fitting of a younger brother who thinks he’s getting away with something.

I sighed loudly, expressing my frustration with his behavior. “How could they have been old enough, Carl? They looked like they could’ve been carried off by a slight breeze.”

“You’re full of it,” Carl declared. “Just because you’re older than me-”

“Stop bickering,” Pa interrupted, raising his voice. “Carl, if you knew she had cubs, you never should’ve even considered takin’ a shot at her. I raised you better than that.”

“But-” Carl tried to argue, but Ma cut him off.

“How do you think Miss Flora Cook would feel about you willin’ to kill a mother bear with a fresh litter? I wouldn’t blame her if she called off the engagement,” she scolded.

At this, Carl hung his head. Ma always knew exactly how to make you regret what you’ve done. He was ashamed, but I know he would’ve been ten times as sorry if I’d let him kill that bear. 

*  *  *

Sitka spruce, red cedar, western hemlock… 

I counted off tree species in my head. Gettin’ lost in your thoughts can be deadly out here, and with everyone startin’ to wake up, I have no intention of pissin’ off a bull moose or wolf pack because I wasn’t payin’ attention to where I was goin’. 

I’m still gettin’ used to this new territory and my new job. When I got back from The Great War, I picked up my old job workin’ for the International Boundary Survey in Maine, but I wasn’t entirely happy. A few men in my battalion came from Alaska, Ketchikan and Fairbanks if I remember right, and I couldn’t get enough of the stories they told. I guess that’s just the mountain man my parents raised me to be. Anyway, about two months ago, I caught wind of an opening at the US Coast and Geodetic Survey that would take me to the Alaskan frontier and I jumped on the chance. For the past month, I’ve been makin’ trails north of Anchorage in that dense bush country.

I stopped and looked around for a minute. I may have been over 4,000 miles from Eustis, my hometown, but the terrain felt familiar. Different when it came to the native plants and animals, but the same steep hills and rocky rivers that my brothers and I used to traverse. I’ve been told by the other surveyors that the weather was warm for an Alaskan spring, but I still felt a chill in the air like late winter in Maine. Sitting down on a fallen tree, I checked my pocket watch. Oughta wait for ‘em to catch up. I had some food in my pack, but I wasn’t all that hungry. I took out my trail journal. 

*  *  *

May 12, 1922   1:37 pm   42°F

23 miles northeast of Anchorage

Left the pack train two hours ago, turning back soon. No signs of existing trails, had to make my own. Lots of underbrush and dead branches cleared out. Seeing early leaf buds and small animals. No sign of predators except occasional old droppings. Will update as necessary.

*  *  *

I closed my journal and slid it back into my pack. S’pose I should head back to the group, I thought. Don’t wanna get caught out here after dark with no supplies. I’d heard stories of green surveyors gettin’ lost in the Alaskan wilderness because they didn’t know when to turn back to base camp. Some would show back up after a few days with just a few scratches. Others were never seen again. In that regard, I wasn’t itchin’ to test my luck.

Walkin’ back the way I came, I noticed all the things I hadn’t been payin’ any attention to, like hawk screeches and tree branch creaks. I could hear rushin’ water up ahead and remembered the creek I’d have to cross. I welcomed the thought even though I knew my toes would be frozen by the time I got to the other side. But, after two and a half hours on the trails, my feet were achin’ to get out of these boots. I made my way to the rocky shore and was just about to kick off my boots when I felt the hair stand up on the back of my neck. 

Somethin’ wasn’t right here. I scanned the water’s edge, my eyes blinded by the sun reflectin’ off the water. That’s when I saw the grizzly bear cubs. There were three of ‘em, none seemin’ to notice me standing less than 200 yards away. I looked around cautiously for mama bear, prayin’ that she had gone farther downstream to catch fish for her cubs. When I didn’t see any sign of her nearby, I let out a relieved sigh, thinkin’ I could slowly back off and make a quick getaway.

That’s when I heard the snarl.

Poetry: “The Ways We Live”

Every day is the same. 

Wake up before the sun rises,  

but never to enjoy the moonlight  

or the stars arranged in constellations  

like a child leaves their playthings.  

Dress yourself, brace yourself  

for the ensuing day,  

never realizing that everything you do  

comes from a world you’ll never  

fully comprehend and may never  

truly experience. As days march on,  

the same solitude: the hard cabin  

of a car, the suffocating walls  

of a worn-out building 

and back again. Exhausted,  

we walk in silence, cutting ourselves off  

from our peers who also want the end  

of lonely days, the end  

of a life confined and void of joy.  

Even those who claim to be living  

their young lives to the fullest are wrong.  

A life of routine, even routine spontaneity  

is still routine, still static.  

There has to be more.  

Maybe in the warmth of the sun  

or the richness of soil,  

the cool breezes of spring on the horizon  

or the sterility of snow?  

We’ll go crazy without dynamism,  

without unpredictability,  

without the sharp pain of reality.  

Let’s bask in the sunlight like wildflowers  

in the meadows and forest clearings.  

Let’s immerse ourselves in the cold  

waves and flows of the river.  

Walk barefoot on damp earth,  

sod clumping between our toes. 

Breathe in new air, new life, 

and remember to be present. 

Going through the motions is not enough.  

Let yourself be overtaken by what can’t be controlled  

or be ready to fall victim to the day. 

CNF: “Nowhere in Paradise”

What is paradise? For many of the people who live or vacation in the town I call home, the answer is simple: the beach. Our town is lucky enough to claim one of the few sandy beaches in Maine, which many residents and almost all visitors are quick to take advantage of. In the summer, swarms of people flock to the beaches like seagulls, dotting the coastline with oversized umbrellas and brightly colored loungers. Despite the fact that there is no escaping the crowds and noise that accompany such an exodus, the beach is continually praised for its relaxing atmosphere and the pure enjoyment it provides. 

I, unlike many members of my community, have never been fond of the beach. Maybe it’s because I grew up with forest all around me in one of the more rural parts of town, but I don’t feel the call of the ocean like my schoolmates did and I have no desire to bury my toes in the itchy sand or submerge my head below the sickeningly salty, Atlantic waves. There’s something about the woods, though, that is utterly magnetic, like a siren call that makes me want to walk far beyond the treeline and up steep cliffs with no regard to where I’m going or the potential danger I would put myself in. It tempts me to leave behind the traditional roof over my head and the walls that surround me for a more wild version, with tree canopies that shelter me from the elements and mountains that protect me on every side. 

I could stand for hours among the trees, so still that anyone who happened upon the scene might mistake me for one of them. Though I’m certainly no expert in tree classification, I could pick out some of the more distinct varieties. Shagbark hickory, paper birch, sugar maple. In spring and summer, after heavy rainstorms, their leaves become the most vibrant greens, making the forest a verdant wonderland. Then, when autumn turns their leaves flaxen and ocherous, sunlight streaming through the trees brings them to life for a final time before the cold chill of winter removes any trace of the brilliant colors that graced the branches. 

This is my paradise, a place many would call the middle of nowhere. I agree with their assessment to some extent. A random place in the woods could definitely be categorized as such, but it’s not because there is nothing to experience. Every time I look into the woods, no matter how often, I encounter new and nuanced things that indulge my senses and entreat me to return time and time again. So, when I say ‘the middle of nowhere,’ I’m referring to the nowhere you respond with when someone pries at your whereabouts. It’s the type of nowhere that is only known to you, that you keep sheltered from others so that you can keep this place all to yourself. Luckily for me, the forest has a way of keeping secrets.

Final CPB Reflection

When I started this commonplace book, I wasn’t totally sure what I wanted to do with it. Based on my personality, I knew I would end up picking a theme and sticking with it until the end, which did happen, but even as I completed entry after entry, I couldn’t quite find the words to describe what I was focusing on. It wasn’t until I sat down and actually tried to find the common thread running through all of my entries that I realized two things. First, all of my entries were centered around how the Victorian authors we read portrayed their monsters. I wanted to know what qualities made these monsters terrifying to their original and modern audiences. Second, but more importantly, trying to understand the things that frighten and unnerve us is something I’ve had a fascination with for a long time. It wasn’t until I reflected on my commonplace practice that I was finally able to recognize that.

[T]he practice of maintaining a commonplace book and exchanging texts with others also served as a form of self-definition: which poems or aphorisms you chose to copy into your book or to pass on to your correspondents said a lot about you, and the book as a whole was a reflection of your character and personality.

Tom Standage, “How Commonplace Books Were like Tumblr and Pinterest,” tomstandage.com, May 5, 2013, https://tomstandage.wordpress.com

According to Tom Standage, my realization is exactly the point of keeping a commonplace book. He asserts that through commonplacing, we define who we are by what we choose to include and how we choose to share it with others. It doesn’t really matter whether the book is a cohesive representation of one specific theme or a concoction of many wildly different ideas. Standage makes it clear that no matter how you approach commonplacing, the object you make is an expression of yourself. We often think that expressing ourselves through an art form is a way to help other people understand who we are, our interests, and anything else we might not dare to say out loud, but expression through art can also help us understand ourselves.

The first time I felt like I explored a topic that personally interested me was “Entry 3: The Monsters Within.” We were reading the section of Jane Eyre where we first got introduced to Bertha Mason, and I couldn’t help but notice how her physical description was described by Jane. From prior exposure to analyses of the novel, I knew many scholars had connected Bertha’s character with mental illness, so I decided to do some research. The history of treatment for the mentally ill is something that I’m curious about, and even though I know acceptance and kindness toward mentally ill patients is a recent development, I wanted to know when that shift happened.

According to the Westminster Review “the ‘disposition of the public’ towards the mentally ill was becoming ‘more enlightened and benevolent‘” and “that patients in mental asylums ought to be given ‘the benefit of a cheerful look-out on a pleasing prospect’” (Atherton, “The figure of Bertha Mason“). This makes Jane’s reaction to seeing Bertha strange, possibly to indicate that judgement is the true monster, not Mrs. Rochester.

From “Entry 3: The Monsters Within”

My purpose for doing this was to establish some historical context that would be beneficial in further readings of the novel, but I didn’t expect to fall down a rabbit hole. I was so interested in what I was learning that I decided to continue this line of research in “Entry 4: Discovering Primary Sources.” In that entry, I found an actual pamphlet, published around the time of Jane Eyre, that supported my point that people were beginning to be sympathetic toward the mentally ill which made Jane’s reaction to Bertha reflective of a previous way of thinking. I really enjoyed getting to follow this train of thought. 

After working on this project for the entire semester, I was definitely leaning more toward things that interested me and media that I had personal connections with. My favorite commonplace book entry was “Entry 10: The Monster Enters Reality.” We were just starting Dracula, and since vampires have a complex background, I knew I had to bring it up in some way. I absolutely love reading and listening to folklore, legends, myths, and alleged true stories about supernatural creatures, and when I was in high school, I discovered a podcast, called Lore, that covered all of that. Funnily enough, I hadn’t listened to the podcast in several years, but I remembered that the first episode covered vampires in real life and related these stories to Bram Stoker’s Dracula. Because of this podcast, I started looking into the history of vampires in reality because I felt like I could connect it to one of Cohen’s theses. What this entry and the previous entries demonstrate about me is how willing I am to dive deep into research when I have a genuine interest in the subject matter. I’m a person that truly enjoys learning for the sake of learning, and I think that’s what is highlighted in these examples.

I’m really glad I got the opportunity to engage in some commonplacing in this class. I had never heard of it before, but I would love to keep up with it and use it as a way to document my interests and learning over time. I start student teaching in a high school English classroom this fall, and I think keeping a commonplace book could be a good journaling exercise for me to reflect on how my teaching skills are improving. I also think it could be really cool to teach my students about commonplacing and utilize it as we read our novels. I personally found that my commonplace book allowed me to be more engaged in the readings because I was actively trying to find snippets that I could relate to, and I feel like more people should know about it.

CPB Peer Reflection #2

Hannah’s Book:

Although I couldn’t comment directly on your book, I really appreciated the humor you included. I think this shows your personality well and approaches these serious texts in a new and insightful way. Most of the content you included pokes fun at these novels, not just for the sake of doing it, but to critique the larger ideas at play, which is very unique.

Aubrie’s Book:

I think your commonplace book is cool because it shows how your ideas about each novel have shifted over time. You didn’t really have a unifying theme, but the focus on what you think was interesting speaks to who you are as a person. I particularly liked how you included a wide range of media outside the novel which demonstrates your curiosity in relation to the books we’ve read.

Andrea’s Book:

I can tell you really dove into the background of the books we read and I appreciate that your book reflects what you found specifically interesting. I think your final reflection could honestly be based on option 1 or 2, even though I know you’ve written up option 1 already. I think the common thread that runs through your common book is exploring the reality that each book was written during.

CPB Self-Reflection #1

For my commonplace book, I decided to examine how Victorian authors portrayed monsters in their novels. I chose this angle because, although I would consider myself someone who knows quite a bit about modern monsters, I was unfamiliar with their Victorian counterparts. Additionally, while I do enjoy a good monster story, I’d never really thought about what is supposed to make them terrifying and unnerving. My goal for this commonplace book was to address these two areas so I could better understand some of the original literary monsters and the realities that inspired them.

In reviewing my commonplace book, there were two entries that stuck out as clear favorites to me, but for different reasons. The first was “Entry 9: Elusivity of the Monster,” which was written after we finished reading The Beetle by Richard Marsh. In this entry, I wrote about how the monster is always one step ahead of the protagonists, and by the end, I felt it was unclear who actually came out on top. What I thought was most interesting about this entry was a set of four illustrations done by John Williamson in 1897 that accompanied The Beetle and exemplified this point. Many times when I was trying to figure out what to include in my commonplace book, I looked for images to inspire me, and these illustrations stood out amongst the many book covers and pictures of live beetles. Upon looking into the origins of these illustrations, I realized they either had to be published in the book itself or on their own shortly after the book was published which speaks to this work’s popularity at the time. I also felt like these images highlighted what scenes were important for readers to visualize, and seeing as most depicted some sort of investigation, it was clear that mystery was the focus, not the monster.

The second entry that was a favorite of mine was “Entry 10: The Monster Enters Reality.” I wrote this entry shortly after starting Dracula by Bram Stoker, and to be honest, I had really formed an opinion about the book at this point. However, I remembered a podcast, called Lore, that I used to listen to back in late middle school and early high school, and that told true stories of people afflicted with monsters. In the first episode, which I miraculously remembered the details of, a case of apparent vampires was covered, and while I was relistening, I noticed that this story took place a few years before Stoker wrote Dracula. I like this entry a lot because it is one of the only entries where I fell down a rabbit hole of vampire origins while I was researching my source. I also appreciate this entry because it helped me to rediscover a podcast I used to love a long time ago that I forgot about as life got more complicated. 

LORE Podcast, “Episode 1: They Made a Tonic” by Aaron Mahnke

Something that I really appreciated about this project was getting the chance to just explore what was interesting to me every week. Even though I did stick with a theme, I felt like it focused my exploration, rather than impeded it, the latter of which I was afraid would happen when we started out. However, I think it was really important for me to learn about where some of our modern monsters come from and why they are monsters in our eyes.

Entry 11: Appearance of the Monster

In one of our last discussions, the topic of antisemitism in Dracula came up, specifically related to the Count’s appearance, so something that I’ve been thinking about is what he actually looks like. Since this story has been told countless times through film adaptations, when I was introduced to Dracula in the book, I already thought I had an idea of what he looked like, so I didn’t pay much attention to his descriptions. Therefore, after hearing what other people said, I had to go back and really try to understand how Stoker presents his title character. I was surprised by how differently he is portrayed in this novel versus other adaptations. I honestly feel like the film portrayals of Dracula are actually more derogatory than in the book. I’m not trying to say that Dracula isn’t antisemitic because it’s clear that elements of the vampire legend, like being repelled by Christian relics and symbology, represent people’s prejudices towards the Jewish faith, but I just don’t see how Dracula’s appearance relates to this in any major way. The only one of Dracula’s features that is stereotypically Jewish is his “aquiline nose,” but I personally don’t see how he is depicted as a caricature of a Jewish man.

Entry 10: The Monster Enters Reality

LORE Podcast, “Episode 1: They Made a Tonic” by Aaron Mahnke

Vampires have a long history that predates Bram Stoker’s Dracula, and their legend goes beyond literature and film. There are numerous alleged accounts of real-life vampires ranging from the late 16th century to the present day. This podcast, created by Aaron Mahnke, explores a few stories that happened just a few years before Dracula was published.

Entry 9: Elusivity of the Monster

The Beetle as a monster aligns strongly with Cohen’s second thesis that the monster always escapes. The other characters always seem to be one step behind The Beetle, with the exception of Holt in the beginning who actually stumbles into its lair. Still, Holt doesn’t have control of the situation and isn’t aware of The Beetle’s plan, so he has no capacity to put a stop to the future events in the novel. At the end, when Lessingham, Atherton, and Champnell finally think they’ve caught the monster, it’s revealed that it has eluded them and left Miss Linden for dead. I find it interesting that after these events, life seems to go on fairly normally for the English characters in the book, albeit with a great amount of trauma. It makes me wonder what The Beetle’s actual intentions were and if it succeeded.

Entry 8: A Monsterized Symbol

Through modern cinema and film, Western society has come to perceive the Egyptian scarab as a destructive and evil entity, but the ancient Egyptian understanding of the beetle was very different. The Egyptians saw the Egyptian scarab (Scarabaeus sacer) as a symbol of renewal and rebirth. The beetle was associated closely with the sun god because scarabs roll large balls of dung in which to lay their eggs, a behavior that the Egyptians thought resembled the progression of the sun through the sky from east to west. Its young were hatched from this ball, and this event was seen as an act of spontaneous self-creation, giving the beetle an even stronger association with the sun god’s creative force. The connection between the beetle and the sun was so close that the young sun god was thought to be reborn in the form of a winged scarab beetle every morning at sunrise. As this young sun god, known as Khepri, rose in the sky, he brought light and life to the land.

Kierra Foley, “Scarabs” (Johns Hopkins University Archaeological Museum)

Entry 7: Descent into Monstrosity

Something that I found interesting in The Picture of Dorian Gray was that unlike the other novels we’ve read, Dorian’s monstrosity is the result of an external force, ie. Lord Henry. Even in The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, which has some similar themes of duality, Jekyll’s monstrosity comes from within not without. It’s clear from the story’s progression that Dorian likely would have retained some of his innocence if Lord Henry had never met him. With that in mind, if we think about what warning Oscar Wilde intended to make with this book, perhaps don’t let yourself be easily influenced by others was the main goal.

Entry 6: A Good Monster?

I’ve been reflecting a lot on the article “Hyde the Hero” and as it talked about the Hulk as Hyde, I started thinking about other superheroes that might fit this mold. I’ve also been looking at some critiques on the new Batman movie and the article above came up. In the article, author Julia Métraux asks the question “is Batman/Bruce Wayne just an American version of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde?” She notes that there is an easy comparison between Dr. Jekyll with Bruce Wayne who are both wealthy men, but that their alter egos are written as polar opposites to each other. One of the main points of contention is that Mr. Hyde is definitively the dark side of Dr. Jekyll, but Batman seems to be a better half Bruce Wayne since the former is a literal superhero. However, Batman can also be seen as somewhat monstrous, it’s just that his need for vengeance drives him to do good instead of evil. An important point that Andreas Reichstein points out in a linked article, “Batman- An American Mr. Hyde?,” is that “In order to draw a clear line between Batman and the other, the evil, the criminal side, the artists have created a certain range of supervillains who are clearly insane and have obviously crossed over the thin line separating possessive fanaticism and absolute evil.” This suggests that there is a figurative line in the sand where monstrosity is neither good nor evil, and the different adaptations of Strange Case of Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde seem to bounce back and forth across that line.

Entry 5: Alter Egos as Monsters

Unknown author, published by the National Printing & Engraving Company, Chicago
Modifications by Papa Lima Whiskey

Dr. Jekyll’s Description

“…he now sat on the opposite side of the fire – a large, well-made, smooth-faced man of fifty, with something of a slyish cast perhaps, but every mark of capacity and kindness…” (45)

Mr. Hyde’s Description

“Mr. Hyde was pale and dwarfish, he gave an impression of deformity without any nameable malformation, he had a displeasing smile, he had borne himself to the lawyer with a sort of murderous mixture of timidity and boldness, and he spoke with a husky, whispering and somewhat broken voice; all these points were against him but not all of these together could explain the hitherto unknown disgust, loathing and fear with which Mr. Utterson regarded him.” (43)

Entry 4: Discovering Primary Sources

 

From some of my previous research into the social contexts surrounding Jane Eyre, I looked at a source that mentioned how Jane’s reaction to Bertha is odd considering the changing opinions of mental illness to be in a more positive light. In looking through the digital archive, I was looking for an artifact that might illustrate this change and I came across the document featured below. This artifact, titled “Remarks on Nervous & Mental Disorder, with especial reference to recent investigations on the subject of insanity,” is a pamphlet written by David Uwins in 1830 about mental illness and the public’s perceptions of the mentally ill. Uwins explicitly states his motives for writing about this topic: first, that mental illness has been considered too far removed from physical illnesses; second, those skilled in medicine should be diagnosing mental illness instead of regular people; and third, that the fearful image surrounding asylums is uncalled for and these places should be viewed just as you would a house of recovery for a physical illness or disease. This is important because it signifies the beginning of the shift in attitude towards the mentally ill. This was a huge step towards recognizing that people with mental illness are still people and that they don’t deserve to be locked away in an asylum (or the attic at Thornfield as in Jane Eyre) where the general public wouldn’t have to interact with them. This pamphlet also argues for a more proper use of terminology surrounding mental illness, specifically in regards to a person’s “soundness of mind.” Uwins points out that there is no basis in using this terminology to describe someone who is mentally ill, and that there are better ways of determining if such a person needs help, like determining if they are capable of making good decisions for themselves. This puts society in a position where it is no longer placing judgment on a person suffering from mental illness, but rather it is recognizing that the person needs to be cared for just as someone with tuberculosis or smallpox would need to be cared for.

Entry 3.5: Thoughts on CPBs

The Commonplace Book entries I looked at were really interesting to me. A few people talked about their observations of the setting: one person noticed how the initial description of Thornfield seems to be a setup for a dark turn while the other discussed the first instance of a bad omen at Thornfield. Another CPB listed some of the criticisms and praises of the book around the time it was published. After reading some of my classmates’ CPBs, I’m really interested in how cultural influences manifested in the actual writing of Jane Eyre and how it was received to its original audience.

Entry 3: The Monsters Within

“What it was, whether beast or human being, one could not, at first sight, tell: it grovelled, seemingly, on all fours; it snatched and growled like some strange wild animal: but it was covered with clothing; and a quantity of dark, grizzled hair, wild as a mane, hid its head and face.”

Brontë, Jane Eyre, on Bertha Mason

Brontë seems to be portraying Bertha as a monster in the physical sense, but this is not the only monstrous thing in this section of the novel. Jane’s description of Bertha reflects how people once viewed the mentally ill, though it’s important to note that Jane Eyre was written around the time that public opinion on this subject was changing. According to the Westminster Review “the ‘disposition of the public’ towards the mentally ill was becoming ‘more enlightened and benevolent‘” and “that patients in mental asylums ought to be given ‘the benefit of a cheerful look-out on a pleasing prospect'” (Atherton, “The figure of Bertha Mason“). This makes Jane’s reaction to seeing Bertha strange, possibly to indicate that judgement is the true monster, not Mrs. Rochester.

Entry 2: Nonconformity as Monstrous

“How dare I, Mrs. Reed? How dare I? Because it is the truth. You think I have no feelings, and that I can do without one bit of love or kindness; but I cannot live so: and you have no pity. I shall remember how you thrust me back- roughly and violently thrust me back into the red-room, and locked me up there- to my dying day; though I was an agony; though I cried out, while suffocating with distress, ‘Have mercy! Have mercy Aunt Reed!’ And that punishment you made me suffer because your wicked boy struck me- knocked me down for nothing. I will tell anybody who asks me questions, this exact tale. People think you are a good woman, but you are bad; hard-hearted. You are deceitful!”

Brontë, Jane Eyre (Ch. 4)

In the first eight chapters of Jane Eyre, we see Jane as a girl who, despite how young she is, is strong-willed and rejects the thought that she ought to be quiet and indifferent. In this scene, Jane is confronting her aunt, who has treated her poorly for her entire life. Striking back in this sense was unheard of, and the fact that a woman wrote of this was controversial. According to some at the time, “if the book was by a woman ‘she had long forfeited the society of her own sex’” (Shuttleworth). The act of writing the character of Jane behaving as she does goes against how women were told they should act. Coming from Brontë, Jane Eyre may be seen as a commentary on the overbearing nature of authority on women in her time period.

Entry 1: The Book Represents The Monster

Nathaniel Whittock, Public domain, via Wikimedia Commons

It was on a dreary night of November that I beheld the accomplishment of my toils. With an anxiety that almost amounted to agony, I collected the instruments of life around me, that I might infuse a spark of being into the lifeless thing that lay at my feet. It was already one in the morning; the rain pattered dismally against the panes, and my candle was nearly burnt out, when, by the glimmer of the half-extinguished light, I saw the dull yellow eye of the creature open; it breathed hard, and a convulsive motion agitated its limbs.”

Victor Frankenstein on creating his monster

Invention, it must be humbly admitted, does not consist in creating out of a void, but out of chaos; the materials must, in the first place, be afforded: I can give form to dark, shapeless substances, but cannot bring into being the substance itself.

Mary Wollstonecraft Shelley on creating Frankenstein

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