Author: Maxine G.

The Timelessness of Feminine Strength

On By Maxine G.In Story PowerLeave a comment

The topic of gender discrimination and the female experience is, relatively speaking, still a newer addition to the world of the arts than we might want to believe. Luckily, pioneering women in all artistic fields have been breaking down barriers and paving paths that will set the stage for a more inclusive sense of the human experience. In mainstream media, this growing tradition of inclusivity is perhaps most apparent in the singer-songwriter field. And, among the growing ranks of songs about female empowerment, Gloria Gaynor’s “I Will Survive,” from the album Love Tracks, stands out as one of the most iconic. But, aside from being a fun, belt-it-out musical number, what does the song really mean?

Well, while “I Will Survive” was released in the 70s, what makes it so impactful and timeless is the poeticism of its lyrics; they are not too dissimilar to the artful, rich poems of yore. In fact, upon listening to Gaynor’s song, I found myself reminded of Emily Dickinson’s intellectual and imaginative poems from the mid-19th century. Dickinson’s poems frequently illustrate the female experience and the effect of gender discrimination on young women, her subject matter written amplified by the cultural and systemic oppression of women during the earlier parts of the 19th century. Specifically, her poem, “A solemn thing – it was – I said,” draws direct parallels to “I Will Survive.”

For instance, take the diction in the opening, or first stanza, of “I Will Survive,”

At first I was afraid, I was petrified
Kept thinking I could never live
without you by my side
But then I spent so many nights
thinking how you did me wrong
And I grew strong
And I learned how to get along

The diction in these first few lines of Gaynor’s poem create a sense of emergence. The work begins with words like “afraid,” “petrified,” and, “wrong.”These words connote suffering and fear, and coupled with the word, “nights,” paints a convincing depiction of a childish fear of the dark– symbolic of her naivety in a romantic relationship. Many other songs might have continued with tales of “how you did me wrong,” exhibiting the powerful yet narratively limited emotions of sadness and anger, but “I Will Survive,” an anthem of female empowerment, demonstrates something different: informed personal development. The couplet at the end of the stanza is in stark contrast to both its preceding lines and the expectations of listeners. It uses words like, “grow,” and, “strong,” showing how the speaker “learned,” from the fear of her past relationship and turned it into a powerful sense of self-actualization. Listers get the sense that the speaker has taken her life into her own hands and plans to live on her own terms after putting her trust in the wrong person.

To further cement this concept, the powerful chorus of the piece arrived in all its dramatic glory:

I’ve got all my life to live
I’ve got all my love to give
And I’ll survive
I will survive

The poetic structure of this excerpt contributes to its enhancement of the thematic material of the song as a whole. Specifically, the repetitive structure of the first two lines (“I’ve got all my…”) paired with the extremely broad concepts of life and love create a sense of the hopefulness that can arise when one takes agency over their future. Upon reflection of her past, the speaker has decided that it is herself alone that can create a fulfilling life for herself. And, by coming to this conclusion, she has given herself the ability to choose for herself how to create that life– it is clear she feels powerful in this poetic moment. Of course, this becomes abundantly obvious in the repeated statement that she “will survive,” in the following two lines, a couplet that drips with powerful, demanding, and confident diction. It is in this chorus that the message of female empowerment is completely solidified, standing as a representation of how taking control over one’s own life by rejecting those forces that push a person down creates capability and potential for success.

I find this same sentiment echoed in Emily Dickinson’s, “A solemn thing,” most directly in the lines,

A hallowed thing – to drop a life
Into the purple well –
Too plummeted – that it return –
Eternity – until –
//
I pondered how the bliss would look –

To me, the beginning of this excerpt from Dickinson’s poem seems to be full of trepidation. She is pondering what it would be like to “drop a life” into a “well,” which may be a metaphoric representation of taking a jump into an unknown part of one’s life or career. Especially for a woman shouldering workplace sexism and the numerous obstacles– ones that probably seemed insurmountable in the 19th century when Dickinson lived– to having a career outside of “home-making,” making the decision to focus on one’s own success can be frightening. However, the monumental nature of this decision is what makes the jump into the unknown seem to be calling to the speaker as she “ponder[s] how the bliss would look.” The “bliss,” an ambiguous word choice that allows this poem to be more broadly applicable to risk-taking, seems to indicate that the speaker believes their happiness can only be found through independent self-discovery. It is this sentiment, one awfully reminiscent of romantic era literature and later examples of female empowerment in literature, that connected “A solemn thing–” to “I Will Survive.”

In both “poems,” the speaker considers power from a distinctly female perspective. They both seek to answer the question, “What does it mean to have agency as a woman?” And, both seem to some to the romantic concept of power coming from the individual is not only applicable to women, but an intrinsic part of femininity.

Was Shakespeare a Feminist or an Anti-Feminist? No, and no.

On By Maxine G.In King LearLeave a comment

Perhaps one of the most debatable questions to consider about Shakespeare’s King Lear is whether or not the story and characters support or contradict feminist perspectives. Was Shakespeare a progressive advocate for the empowerment of women, or just another cog in the system bringing them down?


For me, a student reading King Lear in 2024, I first understood the play as distinctly anti-feminist. The whole chaos and tragedy of the story begins when King Lear resolves to divide his kingdom between his daughters (the only three female characters in the play), investing power in them that they then use to plot, plunder, and generally mishandle. Lear’s decision is painted as foolish, and Goneril and Regan, women empowered to a status high even by modern standards, end up seeing their kingdoms on the brink of war. And then, they insultingly succumb to jealousy and lust over the villainous Edmund, one killing the other and then herself. The whole plot seems to be a warning against breaking the status-quo by allowing women to attain power. So, King Lear is an anti-feminist creation, right?


Not quite – Goneril and Regan only comprise two-thirds of the female character representation in King Lear. Lear’s youngest daughter, Cordelia, adds significant depth to the argument of Shakespeare’s feminist and progressive agenda. Cordelia might at first appear to minimize the female experience as she is overwhelmingly quiet and obedient throughout the story, being wholly absent for the vast majority for the play’s middle scenes and barely referenced by the other characters. However, in her silence she is in constant opposition to her father and the patriarchal society of King Lear. In the beginning of the story, she is frank and genuine in the expression of her emotions and does not attempt to win power through falsehoods like her two sisters. It was through this honesty that she won power regardless, becoming Queen of France after the King professed his admiration for her resolve.


In Renaissance times, when Shakespeare wrote this play, Cordelia would have been seen as possibly the only truly virtuous character and the only one who never expresses ignorance or evil. She was the perfect Renaissance woman; she was not overbearing, was mostly obedient, and truly supported her father in an extremely trying time, even losing her life in her quest to save him. Cordelia was in direct plot opposition to her sisters Goneril and Regan, even possessing almost opposite character traits.
Goneril and Regan attempt to adopt more characteristically masculine roles, and become monstrous in the process, while Cordelia embraces her “womanly virtues” in a manner than I think would have been heroic in the time of her creation. And, in a similarly heroic fashion, it is only upon her return to the scenes of the play that evil (Goneril, Reagan, and Edmund) is defeated. The very fact that her death is upsetting to the play’s audience is a testament to her noble status.


So, was Cordelia a feminist creation, the true hero of King Lear? I don’t think so, either. The question of Shakespeare’s feminist or anti-feminist intentions in writing this play is difficult to answer because I don’t believe he was trying to comment upon gender stereotypes and empower women. I think he was trying to capture the push and pull of real relationships and create a piece of art that was true to his time. That the play villainizes women in power is understandable considering the prevalence of patriarchal views in the Renaissance era. That Cordelia might have been a hero of virtue represents the complexity of any social dilemma; Shakespeare and other artists were free-thinkers and were thus able to formulate their own nuanced ideologies. Therefore, I don’t think it would be valid to come to a complete conclusion upon King Lear’s support or attack on feminism — it’s complicated.


Instead, I think the play serves as a thought-evoking window into another time that can inform how we think of women in power today. Why does the villainization of Goneril and Regan upset us? Does it also validate undermining biases we possess? Why is it hard to think of Cordelia as a hero even when she is portrayed as a savior? Will the modern perception of feminism stay the same centuries into the future? Probably not.

What’s Wrong With Reminiscing?

On By Maxine G.In PoetryLeave a comment

Something enjoyable being over, lost to time and never to be recovered again, is one of the hardest concepts to reconcile. Children throw tantrums when they have to leave a play-date, screaming and crying because they cannot understand why a feeling of joy and contentment is being taken away from them. Adults grasp and cling to experiences that brought them joy and attempt to recreate and relive. However, “living in the past” is generally regarded as a negative attribute, hindering future prospects, motivation, and ability to be present. Sometimes, this can be true – when a person’s connections to an event or relationship are deteriorating, always seeking to repair rather than a re-make can leave them sitting on a pile of rubble. But, when a foundation is strong, is there really anything wrong with living in the past?


This question seems to demand a poetic answer, one rich with intentional and striking language, one who’s structure mirrors the human experience. “Reminiscing,” a song by Little River Band released in their 1978 album, Sleeper Catcher, gives us this answer.


The song’s topic is one of everlasting love, lyrics sung by a presumably middle-aged man about a relationship with a woman that has lasted over 30 years (gleaned from the lyrics, “Glen Miller’s band was better than before,” referencing a Glenn Miller concert that likely took place in the early 1940s). It is a poem written to this woman, expressing wholesome gratitude of the memories they have had together and the hopefulness for a future of fun and, as the title suggests, reminiscing.


One of the most striking poetic tactics in “Reminiscing” is the way in which the lyrics dance around the melancholic undertones of reliving past joys. For example, in the opening development, the singer expresses his paradoxical relationship towards this reflection.

Glen Miller’s band was better than before
We yelled and screamed for more
And those Porter’s tunes made us dance across the room
It ended all too soon
On the way back home I promised you’d never be alone

This excerpt enhances the listener’s understanding of the complexity in the act of reminiscing. The first three lines, with phrases like “yelled and screamed for more” and “dance across the room” create a picture of extreme emotions of pure joy. Together, the two characters in the poem are making core memories. Listeners are then struck with “it ended all too soon,” a phrase that, in isolation, highlights the fleetingness of happy moments and makes all seem futile. Reminiscing must be a poor engagement, then.

The singer, however, is not done, saying that on their way home he “promised you’d never be alone.” This statement, made with absolute words like “promise” and “never,” demonstrates the role that reminiscing has to play in creating strong relationships and a resolve to love someone for all time. The singer did not allow the end of a moment to be the end of anything else between him and the woman. In this way, reminiscing about it does not seem to bring him sadness, as he uses it to reinforce the power and infinite nature of his relationship. Revisiting that shared past, then, seems dominantly positive, labeling “reminiscing” as a phenomenon that does not have to bring sadness but instead eternal joy.
Another poetic strategy employed in “Reminiscing” is that of its structure and chronological ambiguity. For example, in some of the opening lines, when recounting one of the couple’s first nights spent together, the singer switches form a past tense description of events (“Friday Night, it was late…”) to the striking line, “I wanna make you understand I’m talking about a lifetime plan.”


I found the words “lifetime plan” especially enlightening towards the way the singer is seeking to portray reliving one’s past because, following this moment, the poem begins shifting fluidly between past, present, and future. I interpreted this as somewhat of a protest against labels like “past” and “future,” as they seem insignificant when placed under the vast shadow of an entire lifetime. This is perhaps best exemplified in the chorus of the song:

Hurry, don’t be late
I can’t hardly wait
I said to myself when we’re old
We’ll go dancing in the dark, walking through the park
And reminiscing

“Hurry” and “I can’t hardly wait” do not have a set moment to be applied to. Therefore, they could be referencing a past event, a present desire, or even a hope for the future. The next three lines seem to be directly applicable to the future, but the ways in which they relate to the rest of the poem and the listeners’ understanding of the singer seems to make them similarly universal. The fluidity of time throughout the song and the deliberately ambiguous phrase structure relates back to the idea of a “lifetime” making a sense of time obsolete. As long as the singer is with this woman, reliving the past is unharmful, just another way to experience again good emotions that are still being made and will be made in the future.
If this weren’t convincing enough, one final assertion of the positivity of reminiscing comes in the placement of the word “night” and use of dark imagery in an unexpected way. The song frequently follows the singer recalling a night that was spent with this woman:

“Friday night it was late, I was walking you home / We got down to the gate, I was dreaming of the night”

For me, the most obvious use of “night” is to create a sense of foreboding. However, instead of being ominous, night is used in “Reminiscent” as the holder and creator of good memories. All the moments recalled in the poem occur late at night, and the singer finds himself dreaming about nights past and nights to come. Similarly to the act of reminiscing, night does not have to be scary or sad. It does not have to mean that you have to forget sunshine altogether.

“Reminiscing” is one of my favorite songs because of its simple, happy tune. Going deeper, though, it becomes a poetic commentary on the societal rejection of dwelling on the past. If the old times were good, why not dwell on it? After all, there is always time to “go dancing in the dark, walking through the park / And reminiscing.”

Beethoven and a Subsequent “Bad” Joke

On By Maxine G.In Trust (film) - Hal Hartley2 Comments

Trust (1990), an independent film directed by Hal Hartley, is listed on Rotten Tomatoes under the categories “Romance” and “Comedy.” Naturally, this should mean that, in typical rom-com fashion, it is lighthearted and goofy with a plethora of cheesy one-liners and cliches… right?

Wrong. This movie is a piece of absurdism and dark comedy, following a pregnant teenager, Maria, as she navigates her father’s death by shock, being kicked out of her home, and falling for a 26-year-old emotionally turbulent tech sensation named Matthew. She is unpredictable and lost, and he is unhinged and carries a hand-grenade with him everywhere he goes – a match made in heaven. 

Trust is supposed to be a comedy, but outright jokes in the film are scarce. I didn’t find it funny at all for the first few minutes, just strange and a little unnerving. That is, until I heard the piece that played from the radio Matthew turned on as he was having a minor meltdown in his bedroom due to a disagreement with father/landlord. It was Beethoven’s 5th Symphony – in particular, the Scherzo from the third movement. The Scherzo came again several times throughout the movie, whenever Matthew, who appears to have an affinity for classical music despite his tendencies to violently fight those with whom he disagrees with, wants to listen to a tune. 

“Scherzo,” in Italian, means “jokingly.” It is usually light and airy, skipping and hopping over the bridge into the finale of the piece. The Scherzo in Beethoven 5, however, is essentially the polar opposite. It is strangely slow and soft, and it is in a minor key. It begins somberly before suddenly becoming harsh and grating in one of those moments that makes sleeping audience members jolt awake. It’s not very funny at all, and yet, Beethoven titled it “Scherzo.”

I imagine that when the piece premiered in 1808, those in the concert hall would have turned to look at each other with raised eyebrows when this musical moment began. At a time of strict form and function in music, this composition would have been extremely out of the ordinary. It’s almost like Beethoven was… pulling a goofy prank.

The Scherzo is funny simply because it is not a good joke. It is more akin to a funeral march than the bright, smiley moment in a famous symphony that it should be. It is almost absurd enough to make someone laugh – just like Trust, a movie that is a little funny just because it is supposed to be a rom-com. I’m not sure if the repeated inclusion of this particular moment in Beethoven’s 5th Symphony was intentional, but regardless, the piece offered me a new way to look at the movie.

Man’s Best (Only) Friend

On By Maxine G.In Stranger1 Comment

When I was reading The Stranger, I felt struck by the character Salamano and the presence of his elderly dog. It was difficult at first for me to identify author Albert Camus’ purpose in including a seemingly random, hateful old man that loses track of his dog. However, when I thought more deeply about the relationships in the story, I was struck by the contrast of Salamano’s interactions with and about his pet and the interactions between most other characters in the story.

One of the main motifs in the story is how existentialism leads to one-sided relationships. The main character, Meursault, often remarks, “it doesn’t matter,” to things that, socially, many would regard as extremely significant. When a man living in his apartment building asks him to spend time together, he agrees simply because he doesn’t have anything else to do, not because he feels at all inclined to (Camus, 28). When his girlfriend, Marie, to whom he had previously said that he didn’t think he loved, asks if he wants to marry her, he “said it didn’t make any difference to [him] and that we could if she wanted to” (Camus, 41).

All of Mersault’s relationships seem to be similarly constructed as those around him pursue connections with him that are not actually reciprocated directly. Additionally, other relationships, like those of neighbor Raymond with his “mistress,” are not forged by an understanding of each other or recognition of the other’s humanity, but rather by the desire to dominate another person and reinforce power.

One relationship that is truly two-sided is that between Salamano and his dog. Salamano is an old man that lives in Mersault’s apartment building with an old, hairless dog covered in scabs. According to Mersault’s internal dialogue, “After living together for so long, the two of them alone in one tiny room, they’ve ended up looking like each other” (Camus, 26). After spending eight years together, the two have fallen into a steady routine, and although Salamano beats the dog and the dog attempts to drag Salamano along on their walks, they interact with each other continuously in a way that is full of emotion. At first, these emotions are often seen by Meursault as hatred and fear (Camus, 27).

However, when this routine is broken and Salamano finds himself alone when his dog becomes lost, readers can see the desperation of the old man to find his pet. It is illuminated in the story how much Salamano cared for his dog through his dialogue with other characters. As a reader, I also assumed that the dog, if it was still alive, would also likely feel lost and alone without the old man. I believe that Salamano and his dog’s complicated and confusing relationship was placed in The Stranger by Camus in order to provide an example of a meaningful two-sided relationship that illustrates just how detached many of the other connections in the story are.

Parallels Between “Sticks” by George Sauders and “The Elephant Vanishes” by Haruki Murakami

On By Maxine G.In Short Stories

“Sticks,” a very short story by George Saunders from the collection of stories, The Tenth of December, is, on the surface, a son’s recount of his late father’s obsession with decorating a metal pole situated in the yard of his childhood home. In the beginning, the father dresses the pole for holidays, but when his children move out and his wife passes away, the father’s decorations become increasingly erratic and symbolic of his regret; for example, he creates tiny crosses (“sticks”) representing children and strings letters of apology between them and the pole. His final articulated act in the story is to hang two signs on the pole, one saying “LOVE” and the other saying “FORGIVE?,” before he dies.

While the father’s internal thoughts and feelings are masked by the third-person narration of the son, I interpreted the story as being a mournful tale of someone who is unable to communicate with those around him. As a man that is strict and unforgiving to his family, the father attempts to use the pole as his “one concession to glee” (29), all the while finding the relationships around himself shriveling away.

Another short story, “The Elephant Vanishes” by Haruki Murakami, centers around a similar obsessive plea for connection. The narrator in this story, a resident of a suburban Tokyo town, is haunted by the sensationalized story of an elephant and elephant keeper that go missing. He believes himself to have seen the elephant and elephant keeper inexplicably become more similar in size just before they disappeared. However, he refuses to tell anyone for fear of not being believed in his “pragmatic” world. He begins to scrapbook everything about the elephant, like the theories by local authorities on how it might have gotten away, continuing even after the story loses its appeal to the rest of the townsfolk. Near the end of the story, readers see how the obsession over the elephant and keeper begins to distance the narrator from those around him, ruining dates and sucking away his will to pursue relationships. The final sentences of the story have an air of desolation and loneliness.

In both “Sticks” and “The Elephant Vanishes,” characters who present themselves outwardly as distant and cold become strangely obsessed with an action or phenomenon. For the father in “Sticks,” decorating a pole in the yard was the only exception to his severe facade. For the narrator in “The Elephant Vanishes,” his scrapbook was a private admittance to a belief in magic in a world of logic and practicality. I see the most similarity in these two characters in how they cling to their obsessions as each author depicts them having psychological breakdowns. Each is driven mad by their longing for connection but inability to express it in a mechanism that is understandable to those around them.