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Ragtime

In my Fiction class (which I shall elaborate more on later), we read and discussed Ragtime by E.L. Doctorow. I'd never read any Doctorow before, but I am now pretty excited about reading Welcome to Hard Times, the second book for my class... also by Doctorow.

This post is just random stuff that I liked about the book, passages that stuck out, questions I still have, etc. It's not organized; it's not a review; I'm just writing here.

The novel follows three fictional plotlines: 1) a WASP family named simply Mother, Father, Mother's Younger Brother, and the Boy; 2) a Jewish immigrant family of Tateh, Mameh, and their daughter; 3) an African-American family of Sarah, Coalhouse Walker and their son. Their stories are interwoven with those of numerous historical characters, including Emma Goldman, Evelyn Nesbit, Booker T. Washington, JP Morgan, Henry Ford, and Harry Houdini. The novel is set in the early 20th century.

I think Doctorow does a great job of constructing the book so that the writing style itself becomes part of the plot and message of the novel. We skip from one plotline to another with no warning, sometimes with startling juxtapositions. Chapter 26 is a short mournful chapter (not even 2 pages) about Sarah's funeral, and the next chapter begins "Spring, spring!" and addresses a completely different plotline. The pace is at times frenetic and at times almost slow, much like ragtime itself. The writing keeps you on your toes, and leaves you feeling a little unsettled but excited, much like I imagine that period in history left people feeling in general. You're not sure what's coming next, and it captures the tumultuous spirit of the Progressive Era. Having attempted a novel or two in my day, I'm impressed by the craftsmanship necessary to weave all the stories together in such a skillful way.

Another thing I found interesting, but am not really sure about what it means, is the naming of the characters. So the WASP family simply has titles, which serves to de-specify them as characters. In a sense, it doesn't matter what rich white people we're talking about, they're kind of all the same. They represent a model of family life that is deeply unsatisfying to all parties involved. Mother is dissatisfied with her husband, almost never interacts with her son, and barely gives a passing thought to her father, known only as Grandfather. Father is a product of his life, unquestioning of his own thoughts or motives. It is at times startling the contrasting thoughts he has, never seeming to realize that he is contradicting himself. The immigrant family also goes by titles, although titles in Yiddish, emphasizing their "foreign-ness." The only characters with actual names are the individuals from the black storyline. This helps give us a sense of them as specific individuals. It's an interesting literary device.

I read this right after the State of the Union when Chris Matthews said that Obama "...is post-racial, by all appearances. I forgot he was black tonight for an hour." The thing about that comment that was so annoying was that he never would have said it about a white person. Whiteness is the default. You don't forget people are white - you don't need to. What you (or Chris Matthews?) need to forget in order to really hear his words is Obama's blackness. Because I had this on my mind, when I first read Ragtime, what I saw was that the white people were the default. They were the prototypical family, a Mother, Father, etc. while the other characters had to be specified because they were not types. The use of these generalized titles can either assume that the characters are defaults already, or it can dehumanize them. I go back and forth thinking about the possible ramifications of either interpretation.

Passages that struck me:
  • p. 206*: They embraced every discipline. They had brought in several cots and laid out a barracks. They shared kitchen chores and housecleaning chores. They believed they were going to die in a spectacular manner. This belief produced in them a dramatic, exalted self-awareness. Younger Brother was totally integrated in their community. He was one of them. He awoke every day into a state of solemn joy.
  • p. 54: Goldman was now at the bureau, capping her bottled emollient, her back to Evelyn as the younger woman began to ripple on the bed like a wave on the sea. At this moment a hoarse unearthly cry issued from the walls, the closet door flew open and Mother's Younger Brother fell into the room, his face twisted in a paroxysm of saintly mortification. He was clutching in his hands, as if trying to choke it, a rampant penis which, scornful of his intentions, whipped him about the floor, launching to his cries of ecstasy or despair, great filamented spurts of jism that traced the air like bullets and then settled slowly over Evelyn in her bed like falling ticker tape.
  • p. 73: What have I done? she said in the letter. The reply came back from California where Goldman was raising funds in defense of the militant McNamara brothers who were accused of blowing up the Los Angeles Times building: Don't overestimate your role in the relationship those two men had with each other.
* This is the 1996 Plume edition.

Comments

Missy said…
Have you seen the musical that they created from this?? It's wonderful and the music is amazing.

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