Caution: Illness in Literature May Actually Mean Something

       In the chapter "Marked for Greatness," it seemed kind of wrong to judge a character based on their physical markings. However, I came to terms with the fact that it is a good way to tell characters apart and see into the future of the character while they are still young. Something seems different about judging a character by their illness. It could be because it's more temporary (in some cases) or that there is less stigma related to it (as long as it isn't syphilis or AIDS.) Actually, I can't explain why it seems more harmless. It just does. In chapter 23, "It's Never Just Heart Disease," Foster tells us that illness in literature is often more than what meets the eye.
       The most immediate character that comes to mind when I think of problems of the heart relating to emotional and social trouble is the Grinch. I admit this is pretty cheesy. Said to have a heart “two sizes too small,” the Grinch is a misanthropic cave creature who hates all things to do with Christmas. Through the course of the story, the Grinch learns the real meaning of Christmas from the people in Whoville are content and grateful even without their presents, and his emotional problems are fixed. The heart problems play a big role in the mediocre live-action movie version, showing that the Grinch's heart is initially broken when his childhood sweetheart rejects his valentine. Either way, in both versions, he comes out of the story with a little more empathy and humanity, and as a result, his heart grows.
       As Foster explains in the chapter, not all illnesses of the heart are so obvious. It can even have to do with a pacemaker and a murder. In the television series Homeland, one character has a run-in with “heart trouble.” Responsible for a drone attack that killed the precious child, also Nazir’s son, Issa, that Brody had come to love, Brody and Nazir plan William Walden’s assassination.  They do this by manipulating Walden’s pacemaker from a distance, while Brody is with him. When his heart starts to fail him, Walden tries to reach for the phone, but Brody snatches it away and says, "You still don't get it, do you? I'm killing you." The idea of a sick heart could come into play in several places here. Both Brody and Nazir suffer from broken hearts after the death of Issa. It is for separate and semi-twisted reasons, but that’s another story. Also, both assassins kill Walden believing that only a man with a very sick heart would be capable of bombing a school filled with children, even if it was abroad.
       Tiny Tim’s story from A Christmas Carol could also fit in under this chapter: the idea that Scrooge’s greed is killing Tiny Tim. Scrooge gives a face to the many greedy misanthropes that have hoarded money, and Tiny Tim gives a face to all of the starving children who suffer as a consequence. Fantine’s death in Les Miserables is not far behind on this train of thought. I have only seen it once, but the feeling I had as the last curtain closed was that society killed Fantine, and that it was not a direct consequence of any character, nor was it her fault.
       I can think of one example that fits the category of “illness, starring as illness.” In other words, once case in which tuberculosis does not mean much at all. This is the character of Buddy Willard in The Bell Jar. Although his time spent in the TB hospital parallels Esther’s time in the mental institution, the TB itself doesn’t seem to be very relevant to the overarching plot. Buddy's illness is just as boring as Buddy himself.
       Since most modern work has grown out of the stereotypical “fever,” when an author in our times chooses to include an illness or disease, it is to serve their agenda. Whether it’s for the symbolism, to drive the plot, or as a result of the time period, heart disease or another such ailment, is not to be ignored. I will definitely be thinking about this the next time someone dies of a heart attack in a book.

Snow? Oh no!

      For the most part, when the weather is calm, we don't think about it. I have yet to hear anyone complain because it's too sunny and mild outside. We go on with out lives. In chapter 9, "It's More Than Just Rain or Snow," Foster tells us that weather in literature can indicate or provide contrast against the mood of the piece. Bad weather can push people together. Thinking about tumultuous storm clouds, my  mind is drawn to the Wizard of Oz, with the small farm shaken around by the tornado. It can make you stay home, cancel plans, or run for shelter. It can also separate people, if the weather is too severe for them to meet. The section about the cleansing effects of rain reminded me of a religious ceremony- almost like baptism. Rain in a book can either reflect the mood or create the mood. It seems that when things hit rock bottom, and can't get any worse, it starts pouring. And that's when the lightning starts.
      Back to English II required reading, the Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, weather plays a significant role in the creepiness of the novel. I remember that throughout the book, the sky stayed foggy and grey. When there is fog and rain and clouds, it gets dark. Especially since street lamps were in their infancy. I bet dark in 1800's England is about as dreary as it can get. The dark is a symbol of the unknown. We're not afraid of the dark itself, but rather what lurks in the realm beyond what we're able to see. In this case, the quality of the weather deepened the dark mood.
      When I think of rain, I can easily picture a woman crying outside during a storm, with her makeup running down her face. Like in that sappy movie The Notebook. In those cases, it's almost like the sky is sympathizing with the downtrodden woman and cries with her.
      In the last few pages of the Catcher in the Rye, Holden stands out in the pouring rain watching his sister Phoebe ride the carousel. This rain is a kind of cleansing rain. It could mean a fresh start. For once in the book, Holden doesn't feel like complaining. He's almost indifferent to the water. He is at peace and has found some state of happiness.
      The first big weather significance I can think of in television is from House, M.D. Because of the infarction he suffered in his right thigh, for House, rain or snow means pain.Whenever the weather is bad, we see him inside. He cannot risk slipping outside as water, a cane, and a painful disability don't mix well. The one time we do see him in the pouring rain is during the days when the Ketamine treatment has temporarily cured him. We then see him running through the rain in nostalgia and joy. Too bad it doesn't last. But then again, if our favorite characters were always happy and keeping themselves out of trouble, there wouldn't be anything interesting to watch.
   

Would you care to dine with me?

      Food is everywhere. From the McDonald's on the corner to the refrigerator, consuming food can be as mundane as blinking. This, as Foster tells us in chapter two, Nice to Eat with You: Acts of Communion, is what makes a meal in literature special. I can't imagine an author having to describe things like, "Tom stabs the piece of lettuce with his fork and then raises it to his mouth, lowers the fork and takes a drink of wine." A meal lasts at least thirty minutes (if it's going well), so that would get old fast. Unless it's a symbol, and more than your everyday meatloaf. Sharing anything can be special, like letting your daughter drive your sports car or taking turns with your favorite doll. The importance is heightened by how sensitive that people are about nourishment. The energy we get from our food and drink is a basic survival need, and humans are right to be picky about what goes in their bodies and who eats with them.

      The meal described in Crime and Punishment by Fyodor Dostoevsky is one that does not bode well for any of the characters. Katerina Ivanovna spends over half of all she has on a memorial dinner for her late husband, even as she and her children have been living in terrible circumstances and are on the brink of starvation. She only has the money because of Raskolnikov's generosity. Though she invites everyone, only the worst bunch from the complex she lives in come out to eat. It was intended by Katerina to be a last stand of pride, but by the end of the dinner she is alternating between screaming at her guests and coughing up more and more blood. In this case, the meal is a downward spiral for the characters in the book. A meal is a chance for things to go very well or very badly, and here it was the latter. This failed meal precedes Katerina Ivanovna's death.

      It's a stimulating thought to imagine that sharing a meal can be a form of communion. From splitting a piece of gum to getting drinks after work, sharing food is sharing a part of what you have with someone else. When I read the paragraph about a shared joint being a form of communion, I was reminded of the closing tableau of The Grapes of Wrath by John Steinbeck. Though the Joad family has failed at all the dreams they had hoped for going West, Rose of Sharon is able to share her breast milk with an old man dying of starvation. This communion is the difference between life and death for the man, and a chance for the Joads to finally influence fate positively. This ends the book on a note of hope that if you can still help others, it might be worth it to keep on living.

      Line 649 of Comedy of Errors sums up in a great way that it's not the food, it's the company: "But though my cates be meane, take them in good part, Better cheere may you have, but not with better hart." I haven't yet heard of anyone leaving a meal because the food was bad, if they were with people they cared about. Because food is so vital to our bodies, eating when we are nervous or excited can be very difficult. Eating with those that make us uncomfortable can be even worse. The next time that any sort of meal comes up in a book I'm reading, I'm going to keep a lookout.