http://steel-not-glass.livejournal.com/ ([identity profile] steel-not-glass.livejournal.com) wrote in [community profile] fandomhigh2010-11-30 02:26 pm
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Is A Cigar Just A Cigar, Tuesday, Period 3

"Like the old saying goes," Cindy drawled, "Hell is a nice place, but you wouldn't want to live there. Actually, it really isn't all that nice of a place, but it is a popular destination, at least for literary heroes." She shot a smile towards the class. "I beg the indulgence of everyone who's already taken the class on Heroic Journeys with me, but when it comes to symbolism, Hell just can't be beat."

"Anyway, there are two kinds of visits to Hell. There are the trips to Hell, which usually appear at the end of a novel as a fitting reward for those who have been wicked in the novel. These are not very symbolic--the author is informing you that this character was bad and Hell is a suitable end for him or her. Then, there are trips through Hell, or, more properly, the Underworld. As we discussed in our first lesson, all trips are quests, and this is no different. The only reason for someone to visit the Underworld halfway through a novel is to come away with knowledge. Usually self-knowledge, though they may also be granted a bit of worldly knowledge as well. This quest for self-knowledge may not be the reason the character thinks he or she is descending into the Underworld, but it's an important element nonetheless."

"There are a myriad different Underworlds our heroes can visit and trials they can undergo, though the most popular is the Greek version written down by Homer for Odysseus. Virgil borrowed that version for his hero Aeneas, Dante borrowed from both for his fictional self's trip to the Underworld, and it holds true up through today. Like much of what we've discussed, this works on multiple levels. When you see a character trekking through the Underworld, you know he or she is going to ultimately come away with knowledge. Whether it's Orpheus who learned simply not to look back or Dante's new understanding of sin in his own life, whatever the reason for them first embarking on the trip takes second place to the self-awareness they discover on the journey."

"However, not all trips to the Underworld involve trips to the Underworld. Literature has been building on the idea for centuries, so now the Underworld itself can be symbolic. Rather than having a character make a literal descent into the Underworld, the author can use a series of events and references so the reader understands that the hero is on a symbolic journey. The end result is still self-knowledge, but now it can happen in a grocery store, a scary neighborhood, or wherever the authors needs. So, what elements must an author draw upon to show where the hero is going? There are a few: the crossing of the River Styx, which can be represented as an perilous crossing--a river, a busy street, down a sidewalk filled with unsavory elements; Cerberus, the three-headed beast that guards the gates of Hades--usually any kind of scary confrontation, like a big dog or a nasty bouncer or the like; some kind of admission ticket--Aeneas had his golden bough, Orpheus has his violin, and Odysseus made sacrifices to summon the dead to him. The living cannot enter the Underworld without such a thing, as the Underworld is the realm of the Dead. A guide also helps, as the Underworld can be a frightening and treacherous place; Dante had Virgil, Aeneas had the Cumaean Sibyl, Odysseus has Tiresias, the blind poet. From these few elements, the Underworld can be crafted from anywhere and anything, and a discerning reader will know exactly what the author is getting at."
furnaceface: (Guitar)

Re: Class Activity: Make a Hell from anything

[personal profile] furnaceface 2010-11-30 10:07 pm (UTC)(link)
Once again, Jonothon was going to have entirely too much fun with this exercise.


This wasn't the sort of music she usually enjoyed. She liked it softer, gentler, and this was all razor edges and staccato that drilled its way through her skull and would have left her reeling, if not for her date, holding her hand, trying to lead her closer to the stage.

There was a mosh pit, and she yelped as an elbow caught her sharply in the ribs, but he shouldered people out of the way, came to her rescue, and as they squirmed their way free, it was suddenly like she could breathe again. The music wasn't what she was used to, no, but it was growing on her, and, as she found the rhythm and began to move to it, she could have sworn that the man who was holding the microphone to his lips smiled from where he stood on the stage, and spared a wink just for her.

Maybe it could be her kind of music, after all.