Notes on David Lodge's Thinks...

In a novel of ideas, David Lodge explores the literary implications when talking about the notion of Self in relation to consciousness - or the fundamental and inostensible quality that differentiates the homo sapien from other living entities. In Thinks... the theme and dialogue unfolds as a polemic debate between a narrative, literary approach, represented by writer-in-residence, Helen Reed and a scientific one represented by notorious womanizer and Professor and Director of Holt Belling Centre for Cognitive Science, Ralph Messenger.

The text is an intelligent exploration of narratives, which is apt, given that the central motif of Thinks... is the idea of the self and the different ways to access it. Written in a first-person, stream-of-consciousness style are Messenger's verbal narrations into a recorder, first, and later a voice-detection software. No doubt his ambitious techy gadgets are a direct reflection of his high opinion of science. His entries are associative, disorganized and circulatory in nature, and he rambles mostly about sex and women. Interestingly, Messenger steers easily from lewd and personal observations (which are quite humourous) to high-brow subjects with dense vocabulary and jargon.

Helen Reed's thoughts are recorded in a traditional diary-entry format. Her neat, concise, coherent style questions Messenger's mess. She is much less associative than thematic, and behind her control over her words one senses a chaotic turbulence of emotions - a result of her husband's recent death. Reed is more concerned with recording events than any real analysis of the people she meets. Sometimes, we catch an elaboration of an episode fleetingly mentioned in Ralph's recording, and vice versa. The journal entries are playful and illuminating in this way, often playing ball with the reader.

The many polemic debates about the issue of Self center around conversations between Ralph and Helen. For Helen, the Self is unrepeatable, inherent and intrinsic; it is an almost mystical element that is tied to the idea of the soul. Ralph's rejection of these terms is unsurprising. The mystery is reduced to a network of neurons reacting with chemicals, brain activity that can be replicated in a robot, who can be taught to feel, think, cry, experience grief, etc. Textually, the two opinions cross paths with a clever twist. Reed uses conversations with Ralph as creative writing exercises for her students. Thus, a scientific, jargon-laden academic paper on 'What Is It Like To Be A Bat?' transforms into a series of witty first-person accounts of bats. As though to add insult to injury, they are written in imitation of famous authors (Rushdie, Welsh, Amis, Beckett).

For a small window, linguistics lecturer Dr. Robyn Penrose, protagonist of Lodge's Nice Work, makes a guest appearance at as a guest lecturer. Reed comments about Penrose in her diary, "...found her much more sympathetic than I expected. I don't think this was because she had read some of my novels and spoke intelligently about them. She has a daughter aged four whose father doesn't seem to be in the picture and is much preoccupied with the logistic problems of being a single parent and the head of Communictions and Cultural Studies at Walsall". So here the problem of "I wonder what happened to Robyn Penrose..." is solved, once and for all. The level of self-consciousness in the text, I suppose, is not a coincidence, given the subject matter. But it certainly enriches the reading experience.

It is in voyeuristic ways like these that the text explores the processes of consciousness and the self. Spontaneous and shifting, it occasionally recedes into a memory, which in turn elicits further recounts of the past. In a sense, Messenger's stream-of-consciousness entries could be said to be a more accurate depiction of the natural thought process; they are uncensored and uninhibited, unlike Helen's control over her form and subject. At the same time, it is unfair to punish Helen simply because her recordings are not as chaotic as Messenger's. Is it not presumption when we legitimize one method of identification over another? The self as chaotic, uncensored, unorganized is guilty of being classified as a stereotype which makes it an inaccurate representation. Thinks..., I think, can be considered a metaconscious text. This is how title of the novel is important. It alludes to the thinking bubbles floating over characters in comics. Neither character can know with any certainty what the other is thinking but the reader sees all and knows all. It is a smart text that uses its own subject matter as art. An exploration of the exploration of consciousness? Messenger and Reed explore their own minds, we explore theirs. Trust Lodge to come up with something like that.

Tolkien's The Hobbit: Story of a Fairytale

J.R.R. Tolkien's The Hobbit is often overlooked in the light of his mammoth achievement, Lord of The Rings. The later may be more epic in its approach but it would be unfair to deny the small but magnificent achievement of The Hobbit its right place in fantasy literature. The return of Bilbo Baggins from his journey to the Lonely Mountains marks the conclusion of a little person's adventure. Yet only when seen in a historical chronology does it gather real significance. The accidental discovery of the Ring in Gollum's cave occurs as early in the text as its fifth chapter, putting the Baggins name on the trajectory of revolutionary events and inspires the creation of possibility of a new world.

On to the text itself: the story has the quality of a quaint fairytale more than that of a legend or an epic. Instrumental to this effect is the use of language. Language in The Hobbit is lighter and more buoyant than its sequel in which one assumes Tolkien could afford the luxury to contemplate on natural geography and sombre subjects. Here, perhaps due to the comparative smallness of events - though not inconsequential - Tolkien's treatment of his subject matter is sprightly and humorous, giving the story an air of an adventurous fairytale. The fate of the world is not contingent upon Bilbo and the dwarves, although they do temporarily defeat evil in the finale. The company that set out from Bag End had wealth in their mind, treasures of precious jewels and gold and mithril. A fairytale would not do to talk about catastrophes such as the end of the world or the ultimate defeat of evil through a slow and torturous path to Mordor. The Hobbit reflects optimism and lacks an inner darkness and grimness that is integral to the plot of Lord of the Rings.

How is this optimism manifested? Through humour. The dwarves suffer in the hands of the goblins but their suffering is far from agonizing, and is treated comically: "...[A]nd more than one of the dwarves were already yammering and bleating like anything, when they stumbled into a big cavern". When the dwarves' ponies are eaten by the goblins, the murderous act is described with a passing touch of humour. Thorin and the Great Goblin have time, even, to engage in civil conversation. The villains here are comic trolls and stumbling goblins rather than Orcs, and Sauron is simply a distant "Necromancer". Adventures and events that had the likelihood of putting a permanent stop to their quest are solved by the very stuff fairytales are made of: wit and magic.

Tolkien's characterization of dwarves is not forgiving. They are depicted as money-hoarding, ungrateful, loud, foolish and greedy people (if not for Gimli, I would've taken an instant dislike towards them). "...dwarves are not heroes, but calculating folk with a great idea of the value of money; some are tricky and treacherous and pretty bad lots; some are not, but are decent people like Thorin and Company, if you don't expect too much". They set out to recover treasures stolen from their families, now hidden in the Lonely Mountains, and guarded by one terrorizing and dangerous Smaug. Occasionally they land into trouble with elves, goblins and a host of carnivorous spides, and who else but Bilbo Baggins, who was employed in their service only as a burglar, fishes them out. When the dwarves finally reach the goal of their quest, again it is Bilbo who is sent to the task of exploring the dark cave and has to parley with a dragon who is not even his enemy!

Yet, it is through such encounters that the titular hobbit evolves from timid and hesitant to the brave leader - and occasional saviour - of the group. Bilbo defeats the many masks of death and battles with its manifestations to emerge alive though not unchanged. Therein lies the structural importance of the text's subtitle. Between 'there' and 'back again' is a world of change, a character's growth and transformation; a three-foot tall Bilbo Baggins' heroic adventure that has altered the course of Middle Earth's history.

And even if Bilbo is not tempted by Smaug's treasure under the mountain, although it is he who has recovered the stolen gold, it does not mean that he remains untempted by power and wealth. Perhaps it is poetic irony that while Bilbo gives away the Arkenstone jewel in The Hobbit, we learn in its sequel of the devastating effects that a simple ring has on him. It seems what was unnamed and unknown had a more malignant and poisonous ramification on the little hobbit than all the treasures had on the dwarves.

Passion for perversion: Sasayaki / Moonlight Whispers (1999)

My first impression of Akihiko Shiota's Moonlight Whispers was that it was going to be a sweet, coming-of-age love story between two high school friends. (But of course, I wouldn't take the time to write this if it were simply that.) Their romance quickly turns sour once the female lead, Satsuki, played by Tsugami, opens a drawer in Hidaka's (Kenji Mizuhashi) room to discover it filled with personal paraphernalia belonging to herself: soiled underwear, discarded tissue paper, socks and a tape recording of her taking a piss. Shocked, she calls him a 'hentai' (i.e. pervert) and calls it quits.


We quickly realize that timid Hidaka is happier loving her from afar, although he is still far from happy and repeatedly confuses love, worship and suffering. At one point, he quietly confesses to her, "I am your dog" - and Satsuki takes up the challenge of being his master. Thus begins an intensily sadomasochistic and erotic relationship between the two exlovers. Hidaka is motivated the pleasure he derives from simply being near her while Satsuki is spurned on by her shock at discovering his true nature.

She begins subjecting him to intense emotional and physical torture, including kicking his genitals repeatedly, forcing him to watch her making love to another man and lick her dirty feet and sweat, and crushing his fingers under her heeled shoes. She finally makes a test of his love with his life. Satsuki realizes that she enjoys the power she has over his psyche and behaviour even if it means exercising that power to the point of hurting everyone around her. As much as Satsuki brands Hidaka a pervert, she, too, is one insofar as we consider her unablility to stop her participation in his perversity. In fact, she propels it to greater heights by giving him mini exercises in sadomasochism and in doing so encourages his idolatry for her.

On the whole, the film is mostly quiet. Kenji Mizuhashi and Tsugami deliver stunning performances but manage to do this, somehow, without raising their voices. The surface is hushed and never betrays the deep intensity of emotions that lies frothing just beyond the periphery of dialogue. The final scene is a testimony to the ambiguity of tension. As she sits on an open field, Hidaka limps over in crutches and a broken leg to deliver her requested can of ginger ale (and she flippantly rejects it for the second time). Touching, poignant and deeply aware of the many contradictions that riddle the human condition, these are the films cinema is made for.