The effect of Brautigan’s random and nonsensical use of the phrase “trout fishing in America” in this series of discontinuous anecdotes is to destabilize habitual perspectives on both language and reality, perhaps pointing readers toward greater freedom of thought. “Trout fishing in America” is wielded by Brautigan as a foreign word with no analogous term in English, leaving his audience grasping for determinacy. As I began to read the book, I assumed that “trout fishing in America” would quickly show itself to be some thinly-disguised abstract concept, and of course snidely assumed that I would just use my superior brain power to quickly decode the Ultimate Meaning of the book and find it edgy in a quaint sort of way. Not so. My anxiety mounted as I read on, still unsure what the heck Brautigan was trying to say. What is “trout fishing in America” supposed to mean?
In vain I scoured the pages of the book, furiously scribbling notes about motifs or stylistic quirks, anything that might lead me closer to the holy grail of meaning, the common denominator linking this assemblage of “trout fishing in America”s together. Yet despite the quintessential San Franciscan elements—old Italians; beatniks; nods to the “contado” notion with references to Mill Valley, Big Sur, and locations as far as China and Hawaii; et al.--I still have no idea what the phrase is supposed to represent (87, 92, 102-3). I could analyze how this text relates to San Francisco or what it says about San Francisco, but I find it so confounding, uncomfortable, and especially embarrassing that I am not able to pick up on its secret meaning, that all I can do is write about it and comfort myself with theoretical musings as to why it has no meaning . . . thus giving it a meaning.
For example, I’ve decided that rather than making a statement about some concept like “the pastoral,” “sustainability,” or “rugged pioneer individualism,” “trout fishing in America” is actually a didactic process. I mean to say that the phrase itself has no real denotation and instead functions either to mock us or to teach us something. Although it obviously does both, as I gather from the ironic tone of chapters like “The Horse That Had a Flat Tire” where he declares gobbling down apple turnovers like a turkey as “probably a more valid protest than picketing missile bases,” I’m declaring the peculiar repetition of “trout fishing in America” didactic and not mocking for the same reason that I’m insisting the phrase serves a purpose or has any meaning at all: it’s more comfortable. Therefore, this trout fishing semantic experimentation and the feelings of groundlessness it evokes in the reader serve to point out just how uncomfortable humans are with uncertainty.
As I neared the last quarter or so of the “novel”, I eventually eased up and stopped looking for meaning. I repeated to myself the wise words that an old friend once passed on to me: “Just go with it!” Once I let go of grasping for higher meaning, I began to enjoy much more acutely the immense humor and creativity in the stories, as well as recognize the genius behind the mundane/fantastical similes. Comparing the sun to “A huge fifty-cent piece that someone had poured kerosene on and then had lit with a match and said, ‘Here, hold this while I go get a newspaper’” is definitely genius (6).
“Trout fishing in America” allowed me to experience on a small scale the defamiliarization, reframing of reality, and eventual submission to the unknown that are reported to coincide with the use of hallucinogenic drugs. In a way, the novel made me think like a schizophrenic, feeling sound or “hiding something from the other parts of […my] mind" (57, 69). It was quite effective at illustrating how freeing the mind can turn it into an enormous well of creativity and wonder rather than into a frightening “bad trip”. Brautigan does as the “Negro woman” in room 208 and uses the phrase “to it’s best advantage, when surrounded by no meaning and left alone from other words”(69). In doing this, he gives us the “trout fishing in America nib” secret—people should not “write too hard,” or impress their views upon reality too strongly, because after a while those views become the only possible view, following us around “just like a person’s shadow.” The beauty is that “nobody else can write with it” so it is up to us to write whatever we want (110). Perhaps insanity is not something to fear after all--a San Franciscan idea?
Sunday, October 19
Friday, October 10
The Hyphy Movement
I'm really interested in the hyphy movement and it's glorification of all things excessive. It became extremely popular and continues to spread, and I'd like to know why. It's pretty much diametrically opposed to the equally popular, and often equally empty/meaningless, "green" movement. What's going on?!
Considering the two lame hyphy puns on my blog, I thought it would be appropriate to explain what Hyphy is for those who may not be familiar with it, and also to tie it in to the idea of the San Francisco "contado". If you have any thoughts, please comment! I'd be really interested to hear what you think about how this relates to the course, especially since I arguably spent way too much time compiling these videos...
A) What is Hyphy?: Some introductory videos to the so-called Hyphy movement
1. Berkeley High students - "We started that shit" vs. "Hyphy is spreadin! I'm up in a suburb of seattle and we're goin stupid, dumb, retarded, mayne.. yadadida?! " Why are people going stupid in the suburbs? Does it carry the same meaning when reiterated in a Seattle suburb?
2. E-40, Vallejo rapper, on the definition of Hyphy. Note that it's explicitly called San Francisco's hyphy movement in the sidebar. Is hyphy the worldwide phenomenon he claims? Can San Francisco claim the hyphy movement?
3. How does hyphy affect society? There's a lot going on here, especially in terms of what was included in and what was left out of this video.
4. CSU Long Beach and Fairfield High (skip to 2:50, everyone gets excited when E-40 is played)
5. The most informative of the videos?
The commentary on all of these videos is also useful, and provides some insight into how people conceptualize locations and why they might come to personally identify with them, i.e. rep' their cities.
It might also be worth comparing Ferlinghetti's portrait of cultural diversity and minority life in San Francisco to those presented in these and other videos. He seems to teeter between (a) depicting the city as previously culturally diverse and accepting but moving toward homogenization and (b) an indictment of it as a hodgepodge of antagonistic racial groups (for example in "Baseball Canto" or "The Great Chinese Dragon").
Considering the two lame hyphy puns on my blog, I thought it would be appropriate to explain what Hyphy is for those who may not be familiar with it, and also to tie it in to the idea of the San Francisco "contado". If you have any thoughts, please comment! I'd be really interested to hear what you think about how this relates to the course, especially since I arguably spent way too much time compiling these videos...
A) What is Hyphy?: Some introductory videos to the so-called Hyphy movement
1. Berkeley High students - "We started that shit" vs. "Hyphy is spreadin! I'm up in a suburb of seattle and we're goin stupid, dumb, retarded, mayne.. yadadida?! " Why are people going stupid in the suburbs? Does it carry the same meaning when reiterated in a Seattle suburb?
2. E-40, Vallejo rapper, on the definition of Hyphy. Note that it's explicitly called San Francisco's hyphy movement in the sidebar. Is hyphy the worldwide phenomenon he claims? Can San Francisco claim the hyphy movement?
3. How does hyphy affect society? There's a lot going on here, especially in terms of what was included in and what was left out of this video.
4. CSU Long Beach and Fairfield High (skip to 2:50, everyone gets excited when E-40 is played)
5. The most informative of the videos?
The commentary on all of these videos is also useful, and provides some insight into how people conceptualize locations and why they might come to personally identify with them, i.e. rep' their cities.
It might also be worth comparing Ferlinghetti's portrait of cultural diversity and minority life in San Francisco to those presented in these and other videos. He seems to teeter between (a) depicting the city as previously culturally diverse and accepting but moving toward homogenization and (b) an indictment of it as a hodgepodge of antagonistic racial groups (for example in "Baseball Canto" or "The Great Chinese Dragon").
Thursday, October 9
San Francisco Poems: Clinging to the Past (The Furly-nghetti Ghost)
As I write about San Francisco on this blog, please note that I am not discussing some static notion, definite geographic place, or specific populous. Rather, what I mean to explore is the mythic name “San Francisco”, and what it comes to stand for, suggest, or be associated with in the works we’re engaging. Also, how does San Francisco come to mean or suggest these things, and why? An analysis of both the general process of regional differentiation and of its implications for us as human beings, or perhaps as world citizens, seems particularly relevant to this moment in the evolution of human consciousness. Although locations must be demarcated for obvious practical issues of convenience, there seems to be much at stake in their conceptual formation.
This sense of urgency, this need to defend and cling to a static definition of San Francisco (an abstract notion which is actually collective and fluid) is to me the most striking characteristic of Ferlinghetti’s work in San Francisco Poems. Wrought with schismatic images of struggle and oppression, the overall message is “resist much” (28). And what are the young poet-addressees of this impassioned entreaty to resist? the transformation of San Francisco “from a diverse metropolis that welcomed immigrants and refugees […] to a homogeneous, wealthy enclave” (9).
Beginning with a classic gesture, “A North Beach Scene” depicts San Francisco as some sort of pastoral setting or potential Elysian field, for example with the intoxicating, slightly animal and erotic image of the mammalian female’s naked breasts being amorously caressed by a white sheet. The clean white linen, head-tossing carefree laughter, nakedness, and the concluding phrase “kingdom come”, all function to form this idealistic conceptualization. But wait—the “pure” San Francisco is threatened!
Fifty years later, San Francisco is becoming "just another American city,” or "an artistic theme-park, without artists," where "faceless investors with venture capital" evict Ferlinghetti’s friends (10, 26). This divide is the explicit focus of "Two Scavengers in a Truck, Two Beautiful People in a Mercedes," in which two garbage-men are contrasted with a beautiful couple. At the same time, the poems concede to the notion that these opposing image are in fact myths when the Oracle at Delphi is entreated to supply us with, “New myths to live by” in the eponymous poem addressed to her (81). In establishing two opposing fixed images of San Francisco--one as a desirable and endangered culturally diverse artistic fairyland heaven, and the other as an undesirable, heartless specter of industrial conglomerate horribleness—this selection of poetry and prose evokes fear of change and a sense of conflict in the reader, serving to drive the poems forward and even begetting further poems. Indeed, these works recruit the reader into their dichotomous world of strife and disillusionment, directly urging us to refuse to accept impermanence and change, a type of hypocritical anti-conservative conservativeness.
In "Challenges to Young Poets," the reader is encouraged to "reach for the unattainable" and Ferlinghetti is (OK, so it’s problematic to attribute the text to the author; humor me) doing just that in trying to hold onto a fluid and abstract concept of place as if it were absolute, definite, and static. This phenomenon of adopting conservative viewpoints, of idealizing the past in the face of an unstable and changing cultural and economic milieu, and then of calling this viewpoint progressive or liberal must be rather confusing to those who welcome increasing economic prosperity and technological advancement (perhaps what others like Ferlinghetti would characterize as excess). In Ferlingheitti's case, this opposition to economic excess manifests as a clinging to the past rather than a revisioning of the future. It seems to me that this sentimentaility is not only understandable, but is also a part of my own experience. Consider the obsession with all things vintage and analogue, the turn toward ancient and holistic medical paradigms and spiritual practices, the railing against the LRDP, etc.—aren’t these all manifestations of the same kind of fear? Some of us even wax nostalgic about decades that predate us! Taking this into account, I see Ferlinghetti’s prose and poetry as successfully capturing some of the pervasive sentiments of our times, and also as failing to argue it's case for cultural cohesion and economic justice in an effective or practical way.
This sense of urgency, this need to defend and cling to a static definition of San Francisco (an abstract notion which is actually collective and fluid) is to me the most striking characteristic of Ferlinghetti’s work in San Francisco Poems. Wrought with schismatic images of struggle and oppression, the overall message is “resist much” (28). And what are the young poet-addressees of this impassioned entreaty to resist? the transformation of San Francisco “from a diverse metropolis that welcomed immigrants and refugees […] to a homogeneous, wealthy enclave” (9).
Beginning with a classic gesture, “A North Beach Scene” depicts San Francisco as some sort of pastoral setting or potential Elysian field, for example with the intoxicating, slightly animal and erotic image of the mammalian female’s naked breasts being amorously caressed by a white sheet. The clean white linen, head-tossing carefree laughter, nakedness, and the concluding phrase “kingdom come”, all function to form this idealistic conceptualization. But wait—the “pure” San Francisco is threatened!
Fifty years later, San Francisco is becoming "just another American city,” or "an artistic theme-park, without artists," where "faceless investors with venture capital" evict Ferlinghetti’s friends (10, 26). This divide is the explicit focus of "Two Scavengers in a Truck, Two Beautiful People in a Mercedes," in which two garbage-men are contrasted with a beautiful couple. At the same time, the poems concede to the notion that these opposing image are in fact myths when the Oracle at Delphi is entreated to supply us with, “New myths to live by” in the eponymous poem addressed to her (81). In establishing two opposing fixed images of San Francisco--one as a desirable and endangered culturally diverse artistic fairyland heaven, and the other as an undesirable, heartless specter of industrial conglomerate horribleness—this selection of poetry and prose evokes fear of change and a sense of conflict in the reader, serving to drive the poems forward and even begetting further poems. Indeed, these works recruit the reader into their dichotomous world of strife and disillusionment, directly urging us to refuse to accept impermanence and change, a type of hypocritical anti-conservative conservativeness.
In "Challenges to Young Poets," the reader is encouraged to "reach for the unattainable" and Ferlinghetti is (OK, so it’s problematic to attribute the text to the author; humor me) doing just that in trying to hold onto a fluid and abstract concept of place as if it were absolute, definite, and static. This phenomenon of adopting conservative viewpoints, of idealizing the past in the face of an unstable and changing cultural and economic milieu, and then of calling this viewpoint progressive or liberal must be rather confusing to those who welcome increasing economic prosperity and technological advancement (perhaps what others like Ferlinghetti would characterize as excess). In Ferlingheitti's case, this opposition to economic excess manifests as a clinging to the past rather than a revisioning of the future. It seems to me that this sentimentaility is not only understandable, but is also a part of my own experience. Consider the obsession with all things vintage and analogue, the turn toward ancient and holistic medical paradigms and spiritual practices, the railing against the LRDP, etc.—aren’t these all manifestations of the same kind of fear? Some of us even wax nostalgic about decades that predate us! Taking this into account, I see Ferlinghetti’s prose and poetry as successfully capturing some of the pervasive sentiments of our times, and also as failing to argue it's case for cultural cohesion and economic justice in an effective or practical way.
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