Sunday, April 27, 2014

Who what am I?



Man of Fayum - Anne Ziemienski

            This mosaic titled Man of Fayum, by Anne Ziemienski ties itself intrinsically with explicit themes in Salman Rushdie’s Midnight’s Children. Firstly, the entire novel is set up like a mosaic; Saleem’s stringing together of bits and pieces of stories to form the entirety of his tale is exactly how the fragments in the image above come together to form a coherent picture. At very first though, my mind went to thinking of Saleem’s tale as a puzzle, where you don’t put the pieces quite in order, but you get the full image in the end. But the more I thought of it, the more I realised it wasn’t really a puzzle, because the pieces didn’t fit cohesively. The story bits form a picture at the end, but you’re left with the feeling that something fell through the cracks. Unlike a puzzle, there is clear distinction of separation within the stories, of Saleem and the midnight’s children, of past and present, of the partition and fragmentation of the whole of India, and lastly, of separation within Saleem himself.

            Saleem, like the Man of Fayum, is a whole made of individual pieces. He is made of stories and events, people and places, past and present, the whole of India contained within him.       
“Who what am I? My answer: I am the sum total of everything that went before me, of all I have been seen done, of everything done-to-me. I am everyone everything whose being-in-the-world affected was affected by mine. I am anything that happens after I’ve gone which would not have happened if I had not come. Nor am I particularly exceptional in this matter; each “I,” every one of the now-six-million-plus of us, contains a similar multitude. I repeat for the last time: to understand me, you’ll have to swallow a world” (440).
To me this quote encapsulates the theme of fragmentation and the struggle of part versus whole, and self versus other in the text. Not only that, but it also perfectly reflects the parallels between the text and the above image. Taking the Man of Fayum to be Saleem, then every single square is an “everything that went before”, a “been seen done”, an “I.” There is no Saleem without these pieces and without Saleem these pieces are just there, incoherent specks upon a plane. “To understand me you’ll have to swallow a world” (440), to see the picture, to understand it, we have to take in all the individual parts of it together, if we break them away, the image changes, and so does then the story.

            So then, Saleem’s end does not in fact signify the end of a story so much as it does the beginning and change of many other stories, many other images. Like the man in the mosaic, Saleem is quite literally cracked, so when the point comes where he can no longer keep the pieces together and lets them go, lets himself go, he disintegrates. Breaking away, the pieces that once made him go back out into the whole of India, to become part of someone else’s cracked self, someone else’s mosaic.  

Curated by: Paula Febles Bustillo

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Rushdie, Salman. Midnight's Children: A Novel. New York: Random House Trade Paperbacks, 2006. Print.
Ziemienski, Anne. "Man of Fayum." The Art of Anne Ziemienski, Mosaic Art Gallery. 2013. Web. 28 Apr. 2014. 

3 comments:

  1.           “The story bits form a picture at the end, but you’re left with the feeling that something fell through the cracks.” I think that's beautifully put, Paula. I think your artifact is wonderfully fitting to the text of Midnight's Children. I am reminded of the passage, just a few short pages after Saleem poses the question Who what am I? in which he says,“No shadow of a doubt: an acceleration is taking place. Rip crunch Crack – while road surfaces split in the awesome heat, I, too am being hurried towards disintegration”(443). It is almost as if Rushdie/Saleem builds the pieces of his textual mosaic just so it can be taken apart again by his son and the generations that follow.
              Saleem gives us as many tiles as he can leading up to his birth, when all the tiles are finally and temporarily in place, and then he removes them one by one as the reader barrels towards his impending disintegration. The notion that Saleem's story is no puzzle is very interesting to me as well, and I think it's quite true. Often he comments on his own cracking as well as more literal instances of the pieces not fitting together quite properly in the form of noted chronological mistakes, “I have made another error,” Saleem says, “that the election of 1957 took place before, and not after, my tenth birthday; but although I have racked my brains, my memory refuses, stubbornly, to alter the sequence of events. This is worrying. I don't know what's gone wrong”(254).
              Saleem struggled to achieve the assiduity of his mother, as he wrote his autobiographical text but it was literally impossible because the circumstance of his birth was something of a crack itself. It hadn't have been for Mary's judgement call, Saleem's story would not have been the same. We are often forced to take Saleem's own telling of his story with a grain of salt even those often have a tendency to fall from the plate. Saleem's tale was indeed fragmented and his own commentary on the subject is the most interesting aspect of a novel which I have read to date.

    -Aubrey Helm

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  2. Very interesting Paula! I love your take on how once we finish the story, it's hard to shake this nagging feeling that something fell through the cracks. I think that really speaks to the type of read that Midnight's Children, and any magical realism text is. There's are so many details and nuances that readers are forced to put together to make sense of it all. By the time you're finished reading a piece of magical realism, it feels as though you could not have possibly put all the pieces together. In that way, a lot of the texts we read this semester are mosaics too. Upon finishing them, they are beautiful, and one could ruminate on them all day. But there are still gaps and spaces that something we aren't even aware of yet could fit into. In our class discussions that nagging feeling always plagued me and I know I'm not the only one who wanted to keep digging into the magic.
    While reading this novel, I really did feel like I was putting together a puzzle, but with pieces that kept changing shape as I handled them. I love the Saleem-as-mosaic image you conjure up because he himself attempting to situate himself within this larger picture of India and its history. By the end of the story when Saleem disintegrates (or does he?) it would seem that he is not in fact an entire picture or an entire mosaic. He's just one piece of India's history, and we cannot even be sure of just how important his piece. I love all the questions we had about Saleem's reliability and whether or not his pride is actually justified or not. How are we supposed to buy that this one man is THAT important to India's history? I like to think of it like this: Imagine every midnight's children having a story as complex and winding and enchanting as Saleem's. They would be just as confident as him in their importance to their nation, but in the end it doesn't really matter. Just imagine the mosaic all those stories of all those midnight's children would make. I think it speaks marvelously to the image of India this novel impresses upon its readers.

    -Rosie Stump

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    Replies
    1. I may be naive in saying this but throughout the course I've been taking these magical realist texts at face value because I felt that if I was too critical, the magic would be lost on me. That being said, reading Midnight's Children has kind of made me hesitant towards the genre as a whole because, now that I look back on it, everything kind of felt like "putting together a puzzle - with pieces that kept changing." I'm with you on feeling like the novel was a puzzle that needed to be solved and when that puzzle became a Saleem-centric mosaic, I felt cheated. I feel as though by being forced to focus on one man's intricacies with a nation we lose the potential voices of the other Midnight's Children (before they were all wiped out). Saleem wasn't the only child born at midnight and wasn't the only child that demonstrated extraordinary abilities; could you imagine the novel if we got the story through the eyes of another?

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