Wednesday, November 13, 2013

The Dystopian Game: Isolation and Manipulation in "Ender's Game" and "The Hunger Games"

Steven Davis
Over the past few years dystopian literature has been dominating the YA bookshelves and there's no question that much of this has to do with Suzanne Collins' wildly popular Hunger Games series. I recently reread Ender's Game by Orson Scott Card in preparation for the movie and unsurprisingly found that it had a lot in common with The Hunger Games. Since these two novels (along with George Orwell's 1984) are the most popular and iconic dystopian novels still read today, it begged the question: what makes these dystopian novels great

First, a basic explanation of the characteristics of a dystopian novel: 

 "A futuristic, imagined universe in which oppressive societal control and the illusion of a perfect society are maintained through corporate, bureaucratic, technological, moral, or totalitarian control. Dystopias, through an exaggerated worst-case scenario, make a criticism about a current trend, societal norm, or political system" (source).
There's no doubt that Ender's Game and The Hunger Games can be considered dystopian novels. Under a oppressive government, both Ender and Katniss are thrust into a world where their every move is watched, where important information is kept from them, and where peace and resolution rests on their shoulders. But I think there are a few things that happen to Ender and Katniss that make these novels truly great dystopian books:

      Ender's and Katniss' physical and emotional isolation from their family and friends is one of the most important and influential part of these novels. As a third, Ender is resented and bullied (putting it lightly) by his older brother Peter but has a strong and loving relationship with his sister Valentine. Likewise, Katniss' relationship with her cold and detached mother couldn't be more different than her strong and protecting relationship with her younger sister, Prim. But both Ender and Katniss are not just pulled away from their family and their loving sisters, but are manipulated to go willingly. Ender is told, "If there's a chance that because you're with the fleet, mankind might survive and the buggers might leave us alone forever -- then I'm going to ask you to do it. To come with me" (25). Colonel Graff makes Ender agree three times until he gives the answer he wants to hear: "' I don't want to go,' said Ender, "but I will '" (26).
Katniss, too, is "powerless against the reaping" (15) but leaves her family willingly, "With one sweep of my arm, I push her behind me. 'I volunteer!' I gasp. 'I volunteer as tribute!'" (22). The dystopian society of each novel has no problem forcing children to leave their homes, but by making them leave willingly, Ender and Katniss isolate themselves in a way the Capitol or battle school never could.
      Once they decide to leave, both Ender and Katniss enter a completely unnatural world, a pseudo earth where the game makers and the IF manipulate their every move. While Ender's world is literately turned upside down ("the enemy's gate is DOWN"), Katniss enters an arena that is not only designed, but is actively controlled by the game makers. But these unnatural worlds of the space station and the arena only reflect the deeper distortion of life inside. Here, they suffer through the manipulations of Colonel Graff and President Snow and are even further isolated by losing the friends they manage to make there. Both Rue and Alai are fellow competition, but they accept, befriend, and help Katniss and Ender respectively. There's no reason for Rue to help Katniss, but in the form of a small finger pointing up to a wasp nest she does -- and their alliance in the games turns quickly into a real friendship. Likewise Ender views Alai as an enemy, part of Bernard's gang, "what did Ender have to say to him?" (58) But in the game room, like Rue and Katniss, they learn to help one another and they, too become fast friends:
"'Here, snag my hand!'" Alai called. Ender held out his hand. Alai took the shock of impact and helped Ender make a fairly gentle landing against the wall (59). 
"Bernard knew that Ender and Alai had learned to use the guns together. And Ender and Alai were friends. Now others might believe that Ender had joined his group, but it wasn't so. Ender had joined a new group. Alai's group" (61). 
Because both Ender and Katniss find friendship when they thought they could not (and indeed, when it was designed so that they could not) the loss of their friends cuts even deeper. As Rue dies, Katniss, forgetting her own risk in the Games, sings her a song from her own childhood:
 "Rue's eyes have fluttered shut. Her chest moves but only slightly. My throat releases the tears and they slide down my cheeks. But I have to finish the song for her" (235). 
More than that, Katniss "decorates [Rue's] body in the flowers. Covering the ugly wound. Wreathing her face. Weaving her hair with bright colors" (237)

Alai does not die in Ender's Game, but he nonetheless represents a symbolic death of Ender's friends in battle school. One of the most poignant moments in the novel is Alai's kiss and whisper of "Salaam" to Ender shortly after they become friends: "Whatever it meant to Alai, Ender knew it was sacred; that he had uncovered himself for Ender…that was what Alai had given him; a gift so sacred that even Ender could not be allowed to understand what it meant" (69-70). But Colonel Graff continues to isolate Ender away from his friends and Alai eventually tells Ender:
"Alas, it is not meant to be." "What isn't?" "Peace. It's what salaam means. Peace be unto you." …Ender turned around. Alai was already gone. Ender felt as if a part of himself had been taken away, an inward prop that was holding up his courage and confidence…The most terrible thing, though was the fear that the wall could never be breached, that in his heart Alai was glad of the separation, and was ready to be Ender's enemy. For now that they could not be together, they must be infinitely apart, and what had been sure and unshakable was now fragile and insubstantial" (171).
Separating the protagonists from natural love and friendship amplifies this feeling of being "fragile and insubstantial" in both Katniss and Ender and in this isolation they lose a part of themselves. On top of this, their time in the arena and in battle school forces Ender and Katniss to see the worst of humanity. They end up not only loosing the ability to trust others, but the ability to trust themselves. Both Katniss and Ender are not killers, yet throughout both novels, they have to kill to survive and they doubt their own humanity over and over again. Katniss knows Peeta as the boy who gave her bread when she was hungry, but the games shift her perspective: "He hasn't accepted his death. He is already fighting hard to stay alive. Which also means that the kind Peeta Mallark, the boy who gave me the bread, is fighting hard to kill me" (60). We later find out that nothing could be further from the truth, but the games force Katniss to lose trust in people, even the best of people. Later, in the middle of the games Katniss reflects on her first kill:
"I don't know why I should even care about the boy. Then I realize…he was my first kill….Numerous animals have lost their lives at my hands, but only one human. I hear Gale saying 'How different can it be, really?'…I killed a boy whose name I don't even know. Somewhere his family is weeping for him"(243). 
Similarly Ender is smart enough to know that everything that happens to him in battle school is part of the 'game'. But it doesn't stop himself from constantly questioning his ability to be a killer: "This was supposed to be a game. Not a choice between his own grisly death and an even worse murder. I'm a murderer, even when I play. Peter would be proud" (65). His ability to be like Peter in any way haunts Ender throughout his time in battle school:
"This game tells filthy lies. I am not Peter. I don't have murder in my heart. And then a worse fear, that he was a killer, only better at than Peter ever was; and that it was this very trait that pleased the teachers" (118).
Katniss and Ender both are forced to let go of the world they know, forced over and over again to suffer deep loss and witness the worst of humanity, and for that their efforts to ultimately save humanity is all the more poignant. Because in this isolated, manipulated world they learn more about the world than they ever would have. Ender reflects:
"That is the Earth, he thought. Not a globe thousands of kilometers around, but a forest with a shining lake, a house hidden at the crest of the hill, high in the trees, a grassy slope leading upward from the water, fish leaping and birds strafing to take the bugs that lived at the border between water and sky. Earth was the constant noise of crickets and winds and birds. And the voice of one girl…" (245).
Isolation from family, friends, and the natural earth illustrates just what Katniss and Ender are fighting for: Humanity. Not, as the Capitol and Colonel Graff would believe, humanity's existence, but for what humanity is at its core, for everything that makes us human. 

Nick De Spain

Thursday, October 31, 2013

Evolution of Witchcraft in Art and Literature: Part Two, Early Renaissance

Happy Halloween! Here is a little more about witchcraft during the late medieval and early renaissance era, focusing a bit more on the literature of the time and how it helped shaped ideas of women and witches. The first part can be found right below or by clicking here. Enjoy!

 Martin Le Franc's 1440 poem Le Champion de Dames [1] is another important work that helped shape the late medieval image of the witch. Largely a discussion between the Defender and the Adversary of the achievements and faults of women respectively, this poem not only shows late medieval attitudes concerning women, but also shows women's association with witchcraft. In response to the Defender's claim that women hold high achievements in arts, the Adversary quickly begins to describe their deep connection with the devil and witchcraft, painting an incredibly detailed and fascinating picture. He states:
...not just two or three old women, but more than three thousand, go together to hidden places to seek out their familiar demons. This is no joke; this isn't fooling. I'm not trying to lie to you in speaking of this sorcery...I tell you that I've seen in a written trail record where an old woman confessed how, since the time she was just sixteen years old that on certain night she flew on a broomstick from Valpute and went directly to the awful synagogue of devils. [2]

This scene is incredibly telling. Firstly, it gives the image of the witch as a part of a group even before the publication of the Malleus Maleficarum (1487) as well as before popular art pieces began portraying the Waldensians, revealing just how much literature such as this could have had a profound impact on defining practices of the witch. Secondly, alongside the discussion of women's dealings with witchcraft is an equally sound discussion of women's worthy achievements. This notion suggest that both positions perhaps have an equal merit and gives reason to believe that on some level, witchcraft was just as solidly believed to be a part of a women's daily life as was any other worthy achievements. Finally, this scene stresses the importance of written literature when the Adversary swears he has read the account of the trial himself. This is an interesting point, for it suggests the importance of literature to the 15th century society, and as a piece of literature itself, suggests the influence its discussion of witchcraft might have over society. Scholar Alan Charles Kors furthers this idea, stating, “Le Franc's arguments are important illustrations of the new constellation of witchcraft beliefs that circulated not only among theologians, lay magistrates, inquisitors, and canon lawyers, but now also among literary elite.”[3] Thus in addition the suggesting its own impact, the Champion des Dames gives insight to the medieval society's changing perception of witchcraft.

Another fundamental aspect of witchcraft included the ability to transform, either themselves or another, into a creature or beast. This strong and terrifying notion is expressed in the Malleus Maleficarum with explicit influence of past literature. Upon this matter the authors Heinrich Kramer and James Sprenger state:
For we have learned much of this matter from the Knights of the Order of S. John of Jerusalem in Rhodes; and especially this case which happened in the city of Salamis in the kingdom of Cyprus. For that is a seaport and once when a vessel was being laden with merchandise...a young man went to the house of a women standing outside the city on the seashore and asked her if she had any eggs to sell... [4]

The story goes on to tell how the man bought and ate the eggs from the old woman, and although he thought he was simply rendered incapable of speech soon after eating the eggs, he was actually transformed into an ass, and had to serve in the witches company for three years, for they were they only beings who would respond to him as if he was human.[5] Yet historian Gareth Roberts notes that this particular story is given again in the 16th century Demonomanie, in which its author Bodin accredits the story to William Archbishop of Tyre, noting that, “If Bodin was right...the story would go back to at least the twelfth century.” [6] Regardless of the tale's actual date, the discussion of the validity of the tale shows how that The Malleus Maleficarum relied on past accounts or tales. Certainly literature played a significant role in influencing Kramer and Sprenger.
Interestingly, the witch’s ability to transform is also heavily influenced by figures from the classical world. As old mythological texts from the ancient world were slowly being incorporated into the14th and 15th century society, they were entering a world in which the image of harmful magic and the witch was slowly being formulated. The result of this is a reinterpretation of figures such as Circe, who in classical mythology transformed those traveling with Odysseus into various animals. [7] With Homer's Circe as influence, Roberts suggests that Circe “often figures as evidence of witchcraft and her reputed power to transform obviously exercised demonological discussions.”[8] Although the assistance of a demon was absent in Homer's characterization of Circe, intellectuals and writers during the renaissance, fueled by current discussions of demons, necromancy and witchcraft, reinserted her image into literature and art to fit their own ideas. The 1493 woodcut published in Hartman Schedel's Nuremberg Chronicle, for instance shows an elaborately dressed Circe mixing potions and overseeing a ship full of transformed animals. Next to her sits her assistant, who points a wand at a dish over a number of different objects. [9] The depiction of Circe mixing potions and charms and the inclusion of an assistant suggests an element of sorcery or witchcraft and that more closely resembles the sort of alluring magic we see in the piece Necromancy's Messenger Shows the Pilgrim how Spirits are Raised, mentioned earlier. 
Circe and Ulysses

In both cases the one doing magic must hold an instrument to do so (whether it is a sword or wand), and each sorcerer someone to the left of them, learning or assisting the other. Although these two pieces are quite different depictions of two very separate scenes, the image of Circe as one practicing the arts of magic to do harm to another stands strong, and certainly resonates strong with images of demon assisted magic. Despite these texts and figures belonging to an entirely different age, the inclusion of Circe in art shows the late medieval society actively turning to literature of the past to help define their idea of witchcraft. From ancient texts, to contemporary art pieces, the evolution of magic throughout Europe during the Renaissance not only reflects the changing attitudes toward magic and witchcraft, but also played a significant part in shaping its definition.

[1] Kors, Alan, Edward Peters. Witchcraft in Europe, 400-1700. (Pennseylvania: University Pennsyvania Press. 2001), 167.
[2] Kors, Peters, Witchcraft in Europe, 400-1700, 168
[3] Kors, Peters, Witchcraft in Europe, 400-1700, 167.
[4] Kramer, Sprenger. The Malleus Maleficarum, 173.
[5] Kramer, Sprenger. The Malleus Maleficarum, 173.
[6] Barry, Hester, and Gareth Roberts. Witchcraft in Early Modern Europe. (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. 1996), 193.
[7] Zika, The Appearance of Witchcraft, 133
[8] Barry, Hester, Roberts. Witchcraft in Early Modern Europe, 192.
[9] Circe and Ulysses. 1493 woodcut. Hartman Schedel's Nuremberg Chronicle, in Zika, The Appearance of Witchcraft, 134.

Thursday, October 24, 2013

Evolution of Witchcraft in Art and Literature: Part One, Late Medieval

It's almost Halloween! To celebrate, here is the first in a two part series looking at the evolution of late medieval and renaissance perceptions of witches, which is one of my favorite subjects. Enjoy!

In the midst of the medieval world was a growing fear of harmful magic that would soon lead to the massive execution and torture of men and women accused of witchcraft. Yet magic, both its helpful remedies and harmful effects was nothing new to the late medieval society. With the recovery of ancient texts on magic, the spread of the printing, and earlier medieval literature, the idea of magic and witchcraft during the late middle ages stood on a strong foundation of past works. Although changing political and religious spheres undoubtedly played a role in helping shape the idea of witchcraft, the literature and art circulating in the Renaissance became an integral part of society, both reflecting and shaping the perception of witchcraft.  
With the Renaissance era as a time of intellectual and artistic innovation and brilliance, the predominant belief in what can now be seen as superstitious, almost stands in a stark contrast. Yet, as historian Joseph Klaits notes, it is perhaps this very culture that was ripe for a formation of the witch phenomenon, stating that the rediscovery of ancient works on magic, as well as an idea of practical magic “produced an environment favorable to the crystallization of the witch stereotype.” [1]With literature serving to both reflect and influence society, using it as a focal point can help illuminate this environment.

Thus it is to these earlier works, that we must turn in order to uncover the evolving medieval attitudes towards magic and witchcraft. Early literature of the Middle Ages that involved magic often associated it with the courtly values of romance and chivalry. In early romance fictions such as those of Marie de France and Chr├ętien de Troyes, magic serves a multitude of purposes, as at times it is invoked to help heal a wounded knight, while in others, it serves as a challenge. In Marie de France's Guigemar, for instance, Guigemar is bestowed a magical wound in which he can “never find a cure, nor may any herb, root, doctor, or potion ever heal.” [2] It is only until he falls into the hands of a lady in which he is healed as she brings “water in golden basins, washed his wounded thigh, then removed the surrounding blood with a fine piece of white linen and bound it tightly.”[3] It is with her loving care that he is able to be healed, and thus Guigemar demonstrates magic being used to both inflict harm upon someone, as well as a healing agent. Though seemingly disconnected from the ideas of witchcraft, this early work provides an excellent example of how magic in a fictional setting mirrored the realities of society. A 15th century document found in the Wolsthurn Castle shows how the idea of curing someone with magic was not only accepted, but actually practiced. Scholar Richard Kieckhefer gives the following description of the handbook:
It contains instructions for almost every aspect of running a household. It tells how to prepare leather, make soap or ink, wash clothes, or catch fish...the compiler tells how to diagnose and treat fevers, ailments of the eyes, and other medical problems...the book at hand contains elements we can call magic. It recommends taking the leaves of a particular plant as a remedy for ' fever of all sorts. [4]

Although Keickhefer points out that this particular remedy would “count as science” and that the inclusion of writing Latin words on the leaves would “count as religion,” he goes on to argue how these sort of procedures may actually be a sort of magic, stating that “magic enters in with the notion that the disease itself has a kind of personality and can respond to a command.” [5] Thus it is clear how magical remedies portrayed in stories, even those as early as the 12th century story of Guigemar could have been both a reflection of what was attempting to be done in reality, as well as an influential source for the practical use of magic.

Earlier ideas of magic, therefore, provide a fascinating link to the opinion of magic circulating in the 14th and 15th centuries in Europe, which placed magic not in the court, but in the hands of a harmful witch. Literature and art played an important role of this transition, as it slowly began depicting the ideas of demonic magic and necromancy that would eventually become attributed to witchcraft.[6] Wirnt von Gravenberg's Arthurian romance, Wigalois,[7] tells the tale of Gawain's son who, through a series of challenges must seek out and prove his worth to his father. One such challenge arises in the form of a demonic magician and results in what scholar James Schultz describes as a “lengthy and explicit contest between demonic magic and divine providence [which] can be found in Arthurian romance only in Wigalois.[8] The story of Wigalois, and its inclusion of a magician who has explicit connections with the devil, stands as an excellent example of the demonic ideas that were beginning to become an integral part of literature and society. As a 13th century Arthurian tale, Wigalois stands as a sort of bridge between how magic had been treated in the past Arthurian tales of Chr├ętien de Troyes and Marie de France and the upcoming demonic magic associated with witchcraft.
An image similar to Necromancy's Messenger
With the role of magicians changing to include the aid of demons, a growing concern and practice of necromancy soon found its way into the early Renaissance. Although medieval magic certainly did not lack a dark or sinister side to it, the art of necromancy dramatically shifted from medieval magic as it included the conjuring of spirits or demons in order to create illusions, inflict harm on others, or use divination to gain knowledge of the past or future. [9] We begin to see the inclusion of the necromancer's art in such works as the 1355 pen and ink drawing published in Guillaume de Deguileville's The Pilgrimage of the Life of a Man.[10] This piece, entitled Necromancy's Messenger Shows the Pilgrim how Spirits are Raised, gives insight to the attributes of necromancy in the late medieval era, depicting the messenger of Necromancy as enclosed in a circle with figures or rune-like characters surrounding him. He holds a sword and stands inside the circle with treasure, while the demon he has raised stands just outside of it. The pilgrim stands to the left of all this, watching and learning.[11] This piece has several interesting points. For instance, it gives the reader of Deguileville a concrete image of the art of necromancy and its involvement with protective circles, treasures, and demons. More interesting however, is the notion that this piece depicts necromancy as something to be taught and learned. If the messenger, with all his treasures, sword, and assumed power was not enough to allure the viewer into the art, the image of the pilgrim learning and absorbing all of this hints at man's fascination and enticement of necromancy within the image itself. Thus images like this not only reflect the sort of actions already associated with magic, but also serve to suggest how art influenced medieval attitudes of fear or excitement towards demonic magic.

The idea of demonic magic used to lay harm on another is absolutely central to the formation of witchcraft. Soon, the idea that magic or sorcery could be performed without the assistance of the devil became obsolete. Klaits suggests the image of the witch began to solidify in 1398 when the, “University of Paris declared devil-aided malefice tantamount to heresy.”[12] Klaits suggests that when other authorities followed suit, “authorities combined the doer of malefice with the worshiper of Satan.” [13] It is clear how art depicting the conjuring of demons, as well as popular literature portraying harmful magicians helped influence this inability to separate magic from devilry. Furthermore, in looking at the art and literature circulating during the 15th century, it is clear how much influence it had over important manuscripts such as the Bull of Innocent VIII and what is possibly the most instrumental handbook to the witchcraft phenomenon, The Malleus Maleficarum.
For instance, in the 1484 Bull Summis desiderantes, Innocent VII states
…many persons of both sexes, heedless of their own salvation and forsaking the catholic faith, give themselves over to devils male and female, and by their incantations, charms, and conjurings, and by other abominable superstitions and sortileges, offences, crimes,…afflict and torment men and women. [14]

Waldensians Worshipping the Devil

This statement illuminates how the idea of devilry is firmly situated in the act of magic. Some of the most powerful images and literature that could have influenced this Bull involve the heretical group of Waldensians. The 1470 art piece entitled Waldensians Worshiping the Devil printed in Johannes Tinctor's Treatise against the Sect of the Waldensians blends the diabolical with the heretical.[15] In this image, the heretical group of Waldensians stand around the devil, who has the appearance of a goat. One worshiper kneels ready to kiss the goat on the anus, while others stand around watching and worshiping. Because devil aided malefice had been deemed heretical in the late 14th century, images such as this, which promotes the devil and the heretic together, undoubtedly not only helped shape the devil worshiping we see in Innocent VIII's Bull, but also promoted the picture of the witch as part a group.[16] The idea of witches meeting in groups to worship the devil is later seen in the Malleus Maleficarum, which, upon describing how witches make the pact with the devil states:
Now, the method of profession is in twofold. One is a solemn ceremony, like a solemn vow. The other is private, and can be made to the devil at any hour alone. The first method is when witches meet together in conclave on a set day, and the devil appears to them in the assumed body of a mad, and urges them to keep faith with him. [17]

With images encouraging the idea of heretics such as the Waldensians worshiping the devil in large groups, heretical witchcraft soon adopted the same image. In addition to this worship, however, was an inclusion of the sort of relationship with the devil similar to that of the necromancer. This passage from The Malleus Maleficarum shows that by the late 15th century, witchcraft included both ideas associated with that of necromancy, as well as heretics that were previously portrayed in both art and literature.

[1]  Klaits, Joseph. Servants of Satan: The Age of the Witch Hunts. (Maryland: Indiana University Press. 1985), 4
[2] Marie de France. The Lais of Marie de France. (London: Penguin Books. 1986), 44.
[3] Marie de France. The Lais of Marie de France, 48.
[4] Kieckhefer, Magic in the Middle Ages. (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. 1989), 4.
[5] Kieckhefer,  Magic in the Middle Ages, 4

[6] Klaits, Servants of Satan, 35
[7] Kieckhefer,  Magic in the Middle Ages, 112
[8] Thomas, Neil. Wirnt von Gravenberg's Wigalois: intertextuality and interpretation. (Cabridge: Boydell and Brewer. 2005), 72.
[9] Kieckhefer, Magic in the Middle Ages, 158.
[10]  Zika, Charles. The Appearance of Witchcraft. (New York: Routledge. 2007), 53
[11] Necromancy's Messenger Shows the Pilgrim how Spirits are Raised, pen and ink colored drawing on vellum (1355) in Zika, Charles. The Appearance of Witchcraft, 54.
[12] Klaits, Servants of Satan, 38
[13] Klaits, Servants of Satan, 38
[14] Kramer, Heinrich and James Sprenger. The Malleus Maleficarum. (New York: Dover Publications, Inc. 1971), xLiv
[15] Workshop of the Master of the Dresden Hours, Waldensians Worshiping the Devil. 1470, in Zika, The Appearance of Witchcraft, 62.
[16] Zika, The Appearance of Witchcraft, 59.
[17] Kramer, Sprenger. The Malleus Maleficarum, 99.