http://archiveofourown.org/works/346091
chapter 8
A quick post about a photographer I’ve recently discovered and whose work I fell in love with.
Francesca Woodman was an American photographer who created at least 10,000 negatives, mostly medium format, in her short lifetime. Her work is soft and surreal, haunting and dark, dreamy and serene. A large majority of her photos are long exposure self-portraits.
Woodman committed suicide in 1981, at the tender young age of 22.
741 - Wide Sargasso Sea
‘I’m sure you don’t,’ I said. ‘But you haven’t told me yet what happened when my wife was with you. Or exactly what you did?’
‘Your wife!’ she said. ‘You make me laugh. I don’t know all you did but I know some. Everybody know that you marry her for her money and you take it all. And then you want to break her up, because you jealous of her. She is more better than you, she have better blood in her and she don’t care for money – it’s nothing for her. Oh I see the first time I look at you. You young but you already hard. You fool the girl. You make her think you can’t see the sun for looking at her.’
It was like that, I thought. It was like that. But better to say nothing. Then surely they’ll both go and it will be my turn to sleep- a long deep sleep, mine will be, and very far away.
‘And then,’ she went on in her judge’s voice, ‘you make love to her till she drunk with it, no rum could make her drunk like that, till she can’t do without it. It’s she can’t see the sun anymore. Only you she see. But all you want is to break her up.’
(Not the way you mean, I thought)
‘But she hold out, eh? She hold out.’
(Yes, she held out. A pity)
‘So you pretend to believe all the lies that damn bastard tell you.’
(That damn bastard tell you)
Now every word she said was echoed, echoed loudly in my head.
‘So that you can leave her alone.’
(Leave her alone)
‘Not telling her why.’
(Why?)
‘No more love, eh?’
(No more love)
‘And that,’ I said coldly, ‘is where you took charge, isn’t it? You tried to poison me.’
‘Poison you? But look me trouble, that man crazy! She come to me and ask me for something to make you love her again and I tell her no I don’t meddle in that for beke. I tell her it’s foolishness.’
(Foolishness foolishness)
‘And even if it’s no foolishness, it’s too strong for beke.’
(Too strong for beke. Too strong)
‘But she cy and beg me.’
(She cry and beg me)
‘So I give her something for love.’
(For love)
‘But you don’t love. All you want is to break her up. And it help you break her up.’
(Break her up)
‘She tell me in the middle of all this you start calling her names. Marionette. Some word so.’
‘Yes, I remember, I did.’
(Marionette, Antoinette, Marionetta, Antoinetta)
‘That word mean doll, eh? Because she don’t speak. You want to force her to cry and to speak.’
(Force her to cry and to speak)
‘But she won’t. So you think up something else. You bring that worthless girl to play with next door and you talk and laugh and love so that she hear everything. You meant her to hear.’
Yes, that didn’t just happen. I meant it.
(I lay awake all night long after they were asleep, and as soon as it was light I got up and dressed and saddled Preston. And I came to you. Oh Christophine. O Pheena, Pheena, help me.)
‘You haven’t yet told me exactly what you did with my- with Antoinette.’
‘Yes I tell you. I make her sleep.’
‘What? All the time?’
‘No, no. I wake her up to sit in the sun, bathe in the cool river. Even if she dropping with sleep. I make good strong soup. I give her milk if I have it, fruit I pick from my own trees. If she don’t want to eat I say, “Eat it up for my sake, doudou.” And she eat it up, the she sleep again.’
‘And why did you do all this?’
There was a long silence. Then she said, ‘It’s better she sleep. She must sleep while I work for her – to make her well again. But I don’t speak of all that to you.’
‘Unfortunately your cure was not successful. You didn’t make her well. You made her worse.’
‘Yes I succeed,’ she said angrily. ‘I succeed. But I get frightened that she sleep too much, too long. She is not beke like you, but she is beke, and not like us either. There are mornings when she can’t wake. Or when she wake it’s as if she still sleeping.’
767 - jane eyre
“Jane, I will not trouble you with abominable details: some strong words shall express what I have to say. I lived with that woman upstairs four years, and before that time she had tried me indeed: her character ripened and developed with frightful rapidity; her vices sprang up fast and rank: they were so strong, only cruelty could check them, and I would not use cruelty. What a pigmy intellect she had, and what giant propensities! How fearful were the curses those propensities entailed on me! Bertha Mason, the true daughter of an infamous mother, dragged me through all the hideous and degrading agonies which must attend a man bound to a wife at once intemperate and unchaste.
“My brother in the interval was dead, and at the end of the four years my father died too. I was rich enough now—yet poor to hideous indigence: a nature the most gross, impure, depraved I ever saw, was associated with mine, and called by the law and by society a part of me. And I could not rid myself of it by any legal proceedings: for the doctors now discovered that MY WIFE was mad— her excesses had prematurely developed the germs of insanity. Jane, you don’t like my narrative; you look almost sick—shall I defer the rest to another day?”
“No, sir, finish it now; I pity you—I do earnestly pity you.”
“Pity, Jane, from some people is a noxious and insulting sort of tribute, which one is justified in hurling back in the teeth of those who offer it; but that is the sort of pity native to callous, selfish hearts; it is a hybrid, egotistical pain at hearing of woes, crossed with ignorant contempt for those who have endured them. But that is not your pity, Jane; it is not the feeling of which your whole face is full at this moment—with which your eyes are now almost overflowing—with which your heart is heaving—with which your hand is trembling in mine. Your pity, my darling, is the suffering mother of love: its anguish is the very natal pang of the divine passion. I accept it, Jane; let the daughter have free advent—my arms wait to receive her.”
“Now, sir, proceed; what did you do when you found she was mad?”
“Jane, I approached the verge of despair; a remnant of self-respect was all that intervened between me and the gulf. In the eyes of the world, I was doubtless covered with grimy dishonour; but I resolved to be clean in my own sight—and to the last I repudiated the contamination of her crimes, and wrenched myself from connection with her mental defects. Still, society associated my name and person with hers; I yet saw her and heard her daily: something of her breath (faugh!) mixed with the air I breathed; and besides, I remembered I had once been her husband—that recollection was then, and is now, inexpressibly odious to me; moreover, I knew that while she lived I could never be the husband of another and better wife; and, though five years my senior (her family and her father had lied to me even in the particular of her age), she was likely to live as long as I, being as robust in frame as she was infirm in mind. Thus, at the age of twenty-six, I was hopeless.
“One night I had been awakened by her yells—(since the medical men had pronounced her mad, she had, of course, been shut up)—it was a fiery West Indian night; one of the description that frequently precede the hurricanes of those climates. Being unable to sleep in bed, I got up and opened the window. The air was like sulphur-steams—I could find no refreshment anywhere. Mosquitoes came buzzing in and hummed sullenly round the room; the sea, which I could hear from thence, rumbled dull like an earthquake—black clouds were casting up over it; the moon was setting in the waves, broad and red, like a hot cannon-ball—she threw her last bloody glance over a world quivering with the ferment of tempest. I was physically influenced by the atmosphere and scene, and my ears were filled with the curses the maniac still shrieked out; wherein she momentarily mingled my name with such a tone of demon-hate, with such language!—no professed harlot ever had a fouler vocabulary than she: though two rooms off, I heard every word—the thin partitions of the West India house opposing but slight obstruction to her wolfish cries.
How is the theme of irreconcilable differences shown in both ‘Wide Sargasso Sea’ and ‘Jane Eyre’?
Throughout both Charlotte Bronte’s Jane Eyre and Jean Ryhs’ spin-off Wide Sargasso Sea, the theme of irreconcilable differences manifests in different and often subtle ways. In Charlotte Bronte’s novel Jane Eyre, I’ve chosen to look at the irreconcilable differences between Rochester and his former wife, ‘Bertha’. Whereas, in Jean Ryhs’ intricate prequel to the gothic romance Wide Sargasso Sea, I’ve chosen to look at the irreconcilable differences between Rochester and his former wife’s mother-figure, close friend and guardian – Christophine.
In the classical gothic romance, Jane Eyre, the character development of Rochester is seen through first person narrative, meaning that as we view the passing of time, we’re also observing the growth of other characters through Jane’s eyes. Consequently, as Jane and Rochester become closer, the depth of Rochester’s character is elaborated, making us as readers able to consider and interpret what both Jane and Rochester think and feel, with them remaining the center characters of the novel. Despite this type of narrative giving the reader a precise feel of the depth of emotion, there is the complication of any perceived ‘truths’ to be flawed and wrong, as the character’s free to interpret the novels events how they please. I believe that Bronte chose to write using this style to imitate an autobiography due to an autobiography’s raw, emotive and inherently honest feel. This is in order to make the reading of the novel less atypically subjective and draw in the readers on an increasingly personal level.
In the extract I’ve chosen for Jane Eyre it’s predominantly Rochester doing most of the talking, contrasting to the original impression of Rochester, as being collected and cool. The fact that the dialogue’s taken up by most of his speech, despite him stating ‘I will not trouble you with abdominal details’, implies that he’s nervous of Jane leaving him or not feeling the desire to listen to him, so he carries on in what may be considered frantic desperation in order for Jane to understand and stay by his side. From a feminist viewpoint, it highlights the 19th century patriarchy; it implies that he expects to be listened to as he explains himself and his deceit in hiding his former wife. This contrasts greatly with the extract I’ve chosen from Wide Sargasso Sea as a younger Rochester may be expected to explain himself and his actions, but doesn’t say much in a way of defence. He even acknowledges his deplorable behaviour when confronted by Christophine on his unfaithfulness and adultery, but doesn’t offer any way of explanation – “You bring that worthless girl to play with next door and you talk and laugh and love so that she hear everything. You meant her to hear.’
Yes, that didn’t just happen. I meant it.” The juxtaposition with the side of Rochester we see in Jane Eyre, and the colder, more hostile Rochester we see in Wide Sargasso Sea is evident. As he admits that he meant for his wife to hear his adulterous behaviour, he doesn’t offer an apology or explanation, therefore he’s seen by Ryhs’ readers as cold, uncaring and firmly detached from his wife- Unlike the Rochester in Jane Eyre who’s trying to prove to the woman he desires to marry the reasons behind his deceit, imploring her to accept him and stay with him.
From a psychoanalytical viewpoint, his detachment from Antoinette after being accused of adultery may be seen as some deeper underlying issue to do with potentially severe feelings of unhappiness. From a modern standpoint this could be depression, as he takes no joy in his marriage or his surroundings and acts recklessly when he sleeps with a maid in full proximity to his wife. Christophine, Antoinette’s close friend and guardian, told Rochester “You young but you already hard.” This means that he’s young, his mannerisms and ways of thinking were cold and beyond his years, as if the world had roughened him and his views. The use of Christophine’s dialect represents and highlights the differences between the native woman and the English man. In Jane Eyre, the Rochester we see is subtly defensive of his actions, using his speech to appeal to Jane in an almost desperate fashion. He says nothing of his former wife’s character, other than in a passionate negative manner. He describes her nature as ‘the most gross, impure, depraved I ever saw”. It’s connotations being one to describe the mad woman we see in Jane Eyre who’s stripped of any semblance of sanity and unique personality. He then goes on with a hyperbolic bitter attitude to express his disgust and dismay at finding her mad. When prompted by Jane directly addresses her; “Jane, I approached the verge of despair; a remnant of self-respect was all that intervened between me and the gulf. In the eyes of the world, I was doubtless covered with grimy dishonour; but I resolved to be clean in my own sight—and to the last I repudiated the contamination of her crimes, and wrenched myself from connection with her mental defects.” Thus, drawing stoic Jane in with direct address and steadfast passion, he plays on her compassionate nature to help her understand that his former wife was indeed, mentally ill and he couldn’t concern himself with her ‘crimes’ any longer and in order to separate himself from her mental state, he had to separate himself from Antoinette/Bertha entirely, even if society thought him to be covered in ‘grimy dishonour’. This separation between himself and his former, seemingly insane wife, is a structural point that severed their relationship beyond reconciliation. As Rochester seems to lack the supportive attitude his former wife would have need, had she been mentally ill, thus causing a definite emotive gape of feeling between man and wife.
This is supported by what Christophine accuses Rochester of in Wide Sargasso Sea when she states - “Everybody know that you marry her for her money and you take it all. And then you want to break her up, because you jealous of her.” Christophine is showing the compassion she feels for Antoinette here, and the reader can freely sense the motherly way in which she cares for Antoinette. Especially as she goes on to say: “I wake her up to sit in the sun, bathe in the cool river. Even if she dropping with sleep. I make good strong soup. I give her milk if I have it, fruit I pick from my own trees. If she don’t want to eat I say, “Eat it up for my sake, doudou.” And she eat it up, then she sleep again.” Clearly showing that Antoinette is important to her, consequently displaying the reasons why she dislikes Rochester to intensely – she believes him to be the sole cause of Antoinette’s anguish. The manner in which she takes care of her charge shows the depth of emotional connection they have, she feels Antoinette’s pain and resolves to take care of her, whether or not it means sacrificing some of her own material possessions, such as milk and fruit, and most of all she sacrifices her time to try un-do the state Rochester has caused Antoinette to spiral in. We, as readers, know that this tender paternal-like love between Antoinette and Christophine is mutual as Antoinette will eat, but only for Christophine’s sake. Rochester’s view on Christophine’s care is evident when he tells Christophine; “Unfortunately your cure was not successful. You didn’t make her well. You made her worse.” Ultimately, this shows that he doesn’t care for Antoinette as he ought to, as he doesn’t acknowledge here that it was him who made her seep into depression in the first place, he just bitterly retorts that her care was useless and therefore unneeded. I believe his lack of care for his wife to be the main reason for the irreconcilable difference between himself and Christophine. To her, Antoinette is her naïve daughter, to be cared for and loved. For him, she’s nothing but a hindrance.
Throughout the chosen extract in Jane Eyre, from Rochester’s bitter account of his time being married to Antoinette, we see the same lack of compassion for her, but alongside a more powerful, passionate hatred. He conveys to Jane his former wife’s madness and hatred for him; “the maniac still shrieked out; wherein she momentarily mingled my name with such a tone of demon-hate, with such language!—no professed harlot ever had a fouler vocabulary than she”. The fact he describes her using such intensely negative religious lexis and compares her to a prostitute explicitly shows the depth of hatred Rochester possesses for his former wife. The casual manner in which he describes her as a ‘maniac’ just supports this further. As readers, we realise that the characters of Antoinette/Berta and Rochester in Jane Eyre will never be reconciled in any form or semblance of a relationship – married or not.
Reflections Portraits by Tom Hussey
Tom Hussey portrays old people looking at their younger reflection in the mirror. These photographs are beautiful and melancholic.
This gave me chills
Oh wow, I love this.
