The further we read in Temple House the more intrigued I am about the subject of class and money, particularly in the case of Virginia’s love for the poverty that surrounds the Temple House. It particularly caught my attention when she is reminiscing about the night she stayed at Temple House after the sailor was rescued. She remembers the sleeping quarters and prefers them to her own house because “freedom was there” (109). There is something in the Temple House atmosphere that she does not get under the roof of her very controlling (and kind of creepy) father. Then, later, when she is talking to her father, she exclaims “Poverty is beautiful!” and his response is, “Yes, to only daughters, whose fathers are rich enough to allow them to contemplate it at a distance as far as Temple House” (114). I thought it was interesting that she called poverty “beautiful” since she once called Roxalana’s dress one of the ugliest she has ever seen. That dress embodies the poverty and freedom that Virginia is so drawn to. This lead me back to an early scene with Tempe, Roxalana, and Argus. Tempe wishes for more wealth and Argus tells her that she can only marry money. It seems that Virginia feels shackled by her wealth and Tempe by poverty. Both desire the opposite of what they have without truly understanding what it means. Tempe eventually marries into money but is in no way happy. What is Stoddard trying to convey about poverty and wealth in this book? As we discussed before, her narrative is rooted in telling so we are not given an in depth look into why the adult characters are content in their class status but the younger ones are not…
Sebastian is described as being “in eclipse [because of] an illness” he developed after his shipwreck (Stoddard 127). Stoddard observes that even after Sebastian healed from his illness, “it was certain that his mind was under a cloud” (Stoddard 127). This quote suggests to us that Sebastian isn’t healed in a psychological sense. Something still ails him. Though it was unclear what plagued Sebastian, many assumed that “he was haunted b y some recollection, or occupied with anxiety concerning the future…” (Stoddard 128). Clearly, Sebastian has been severely emotionally impacted by something. It was observed that that “for days he [would] either [sit] like a statue, in marble sadness, or [he would walk] about the house like a somnambulist or an automaton” (Stoddard 128). This description of Sebastian is chilling to me because it suggests to us that he exists, but only to a minimal extent. The use of the phrase “marble sadness” struck as me as particularly poignant because it is hard to comprehend the depths of that type of sadness. Further, the image of Sebastian sitting like a statue reinforces that he is experiencing a sadness that goes beyond typical sadness.
As I read this description of Sebastian’s state, I started to consider what could send a person into a “marble sadness.” I am not sure if I just am fixated on Whitman’s conception of “the love of comrades” because I just wrote about it, but I started thinking about how difficult it is to embrace “the love of comrades” when society isn’t receptive to that type of connection. I often wonder if Whitman was disenchanted by the fact that most individuals weren’t open to the possibilities offered by loving one’s comrades. In other words, I wonder if Whitman ever felt this “marble sadness” because he recognized that people would not fully support his conception of “the love of comrades.” Sorry if this post seems random/off topic. For whatever reason, I just thought about Whitman as I read this particular part of Temple House.
So the theme that kept jumping out to me when we were taking about digital publishing yesterday was how we spoke about electronic books in terms of paper books. People were upset that they could not take notes in the margins. You couldn’t crack the cover, it was hard to read Temple House because we kept having to scroll down to read the last couple inches of text, etc.
This isn’t an unreasonable way to think about digital publishing. If it takes off, it will be a direct substitution for paper books. But while we’ll be substituting digital books for paper books, I doubt that it will look like what most people now expect it to.
Electronic books are currently more or less digital representations of their paper equivalents. The edition of Temple House that we discussed yesterday went so far as to be a PDF of the paper version. This isn’t uncommon when communication technology first starts out, though. Early television programs mirrored the radio programs that they grew out of, websites used to simply be a digital reproduction of a piece of paper, and electronic books are currently just a different medium for the same old book. But as the technology comes into its own, I’m sure that the way we think about books won’t be so paper-centric.
I mentioned in class that I thought that the ways that books were put out would be different. Writers would excerpt parts of their book early, blog about writing, maybe solicit comments on particular passages. The way we read them would also surely be different. Authors and publishers could link certain passages to other works (how many essays are written on specific passages in classic texts?). Dr. Stockton mentioned public commenting, which would be as simple as highlighting a piece of text, writing (saying? typing?) a comment and setting it as public or private (a pretty natural answer to the issue of writing in the margins). This could build an instant community or readers. We could even see electronic readers suggesting books in the same way that Pandora suggests music.
Of course, with the digitization of books comes major pitfalls. When the music industry switched from non-digital formats (cassettes and before) to digital formats (CD, MP3s, etc.), it threw the entire business into peril. Creating digital files meant that sharing (pirating, stealing) music was easier than ever. And with the Internet’s rise, you don’t even have to know the person that you are getting the files from. The music industry now sells a fraction of the records they used to and has had to switch to business model that relies heavily on touring and merchandise revenues. It is almost certain that books will have to deal with the same problems once they shift to digital (something I see as pretty much inevitable). If publishers and authors realize that they can’t make the same money selling books, what will they do? Will authors have to turn into celebrities who make their money from appearance fees? It’s something to think about…
for paper books. But while we’ll be substituting digital books for paper books, I doubt that it will look like what most people now expect it to.
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