A Bed of Roses: On Imagery of Women, Death, and Flowers
June 30, 2020
“I have heard of your paintings,” Prince Hamlet seethes at Ophelia. “God hath given you one face, and you make yourselves another” (Hamlet, 3.1.114). In this oft-quoted monologue, Hamlet condemns all of womankind for deceiving the world of their true appearances. This isn’t a shocking statement. In the canon of English literature, women are constantly berated for their supposed deceptions. From the moment Eve plucked the forbidden fruit in the Garden of Eden, women in the media have been characterized as deceitful, dishonest, and even demonic. Women alter their appearances. Women don’t mean what they say. Women keep secrets. To keep it short, women are liars. We are not to be trusted.
In this scene, Hamlet’s outburst appears to stem from intense anger at his mother’s remarriage, which in turn substantiates his general mistrust of women. Though his anger is misplaced, Hamlet’s claim holds an element of truth to it. Women in literature and film are often denied the opportunity to express their true selves, and this denial can lead characters to take drastic — and occasionally deadly — measures to escape the reality that has been forced upon them. Presentation is their mode of survival. To complicate this further, Hamlet’s admonishment of women’s “paintings” becomes reductive in light of the fact that paintings are created for interpretation. So, the question becomes, whose interpretation do we consider true?
In addition to Lady Ophelia from Shakespeare’s Hamlet, I see the Lisbon sisters from Jeffrey Eugenides’ The Virgin Suicides and the Lady of Shalott from Alfred Tennyson’s eponymous poem as standout examples of the intersection between art, truth, and femininity. Each of these characters is shut out of society — physically, metaphorically, or both. There is Ophelia, caught between her love for Hamlet and her fidelity to her father, which drives her to madness. The Lisbon sisters are confined to the four walls of their house by their parents following the suicide of the youngest Lisbon sister, Cecelia. Finally, the elusive Lady of Shalott lives in a tower and can only experience the world through the reflection of a magic mirror. These removals from reality allow readers, as well as other characters, to view the women as objects to be observed, revealing the harsh contrast between what is and what is perceived.
The visual imagery used in these stories frames the female characters as innocent, pristine, and even angelic — a complete contradiction to the fates these characters meet. In this sense, the characters have been painted to appear in a particular manner, but not as a result of their own design. Flowers, for instance, feature heavily in each of these stories as a way for external forces to manipulate the female character's presentation. Flowers are generally associated with femininity, beauty, youth, and innocence. Beautiful and delicate, flowers are used in these stories to cover up things that aren’t so nice to look at.
Flowers are what make death bearable for the people closest to Lady Ophelia, who dies with strands of “crow-flowers, nettles, daisies, and long purples” caught in her hair — another symbol of youth and beauty. In recounting the details of Ophelia’s self-inflicted drowning, Queen Gertrude emphasizes the role of flowers in her death, describing how they gently pulled her body into the water. Ophelia is no longer an actor in her own right, but an object to be manipulated. This ultimately detracts from the true horror of what Ophelia has done to herself, preserving her innocence and obscuring her madness.
In a number of paintings based on Tennyson’s poem, the Lady of Shalott is also covered in flowers as her body sails to Camelot. When Sir Lancelot, the knight who once rode past her tower, sees the Lady, he makes no comment on the fact that she is dead. In fact, the only comment he makes is that she “had a lovely face” (118). In the film adaptation of The Virgin Suicides, the Lisbon sisters are often seen wearing clothes with flower patterns on them, and sometimes have actual flowers stuck in their hair. The fact that their clothes are often white adds to the symbolism of purity and innocence. In each of these cases, flowery imagery lessens the impact of the brutal and gory suicides of Ophelia, the Lady of Shalott, and the Lisbon sisters. Instead, their deaths are depicted as ethereal and beautiful — even if these women didn’t live their lives that way.
In one of the first scenes in the adapted film of The Virgin Suicides, we are introduced to Cecelia Lisbon, who has been hospitalized after a suicide attempt that shakes the entire neighbourhood. The doctor treating Cecelia is confused, telling her that she “isn’t old enough to know how bad life gets.” To this, Cecelia responds: “Obviously, Doctor, you’ve never been a 13-year-old girl.” This interaction sets the stage for the film’s premise, which is a relentless investigation and interpretation of the Lisbon girls. This story is actually being told 20 years into the future, by a group of boys who used to live in the neighbourhood at the time. Even as middle-aged men, these boys have an obsessive need to further understand what happened to the Lisbon girls. In their memories, they recall stumbling across a diary that was written by Cecelia in the Lisbon’s trash, tearing through the pages in order to make connections with these girls.
Flowers are what make death bearable for the people closest to Lady Ophelia, who dies with strands of “crow-flowers, nettles, daisies, and long purples” caught in her hair — another symbol of youth and beauty. In recounting the details of Ophelia’s self-inflicted drowning, Queen Gertrude emphasizes the role of flowers in her death, describing how they gently pulled her body into the water. Ophelia is no longer an actor in her own right, but an object to be manipulated. This ultimately detracts from the true horror of what Ophelia has done to herself, preserving her innocence and obscuring her madness.
In a number of paintings based on Tennyson’s poem, the Lady of Shalott is also covered in flowers as her body sails to Camelot. When Sir Lancelot, the knight who once rode past her tower, sees the Lady, he makes no comment on the fact that she is dead. In fact, the only comment he makes is that she “had a lovely face” (118). In the film adaptation of The Virgin Suicides, the Lisbon sisters are often seen wearing clothes with flower patterns on them, and sometimes have actual flowers stuck in their hair. The fact that their clothes are often white adds to the symbolism of purity and innocence. In each of these cases, flowery imagery lessens the impact of the brutal and gory suicides of Ophelia, the Lady of Shalott, and the Lisbon sisters. Instead, their deaths are depicted as ethereal and beautiful — even if these women didn’t live their lives that way.
In one of the first scenes in the adapted film of The Virgin Suicides, we are introduced to Cecelia Lisbon, who has been hospitalized after a suicide attempt that shakes the entire neighbourhood. The doctor treating Cecelia is confused, telling her that she “isn’t old enough to know how bad life gets.” To this, Cecelia responds: “Obviously, Doctor, you’ve never been a 13-year-old girl.” This interaction sets the stage for the film’s premise, which is a relentless investigation and interpretation of the Lisbon girls. This story is actually being told 20 years into the future, by a group of boys who used to live in the neighbourhood at the time. Even as middle-aged men, these boys have an obsessive need to further understand what happened to the Lisbon girls. In their memories, they recall stumbling across a diary that was written by Cecelia in the Lisbon’s trash, tearing through the pages in order to make connections with these girls.
In this clip, it is clear that the boys have a very rose-coloured view when it comes to the Lisbon girls. Even the way the clip was shot, blurry and dream-like, demonstrates that the boys still do not know anything real or substantial about the girls — something that they must admit to themselves by the end of the film. Yet, they still continue to search for the truth of the girls’ lives. When all is said and done, the Lisbon girls remain as much a mystery to us as they do to the boys. In this sense, the boys have a similar role to the Lady of Shalott. While they may not be the ones confined to a tower, they desperately want to understand the girls across the street the way the Lady wants to understand the town below. However, neither is ever able to fully understand — only to piece together clues through reflections of who these people might be.
Chasing reality and searching for the truth are both very common themes in literature and film, and the characters on these journeys often venture down destructive paths in order to find reality. Seeking out the truth proves to be a burden for the Lady of Shalott, for Ophelia, and even for the boys who once lived across the street from the Lisbon girls. But, if we can learn to accept the harsh truth that appearances do not always reflect reality, perhaps we can gain a better understanding of not only who these characters are but who we are, too.
Perhaps we can learn to paint our own self-portraits.
***This is a slightly edited version of a presentation I made in high school. I was quite proud of it at the time, so I thought it would be nice if it could live somewhere other than my old hard drive.
THE STARLESS SEA: An Ode to Storytelling
February 09, 2020
"They have similar elements, though. All stories do, no matter what form they take. Something was, and then something changed. Change is what story is, after all."
I think the digital and traditional narratives are woven together so well in this book — a perfect balance between the value of tradition and the importance of innovation that blossoms alongside the fables that Morgenstern tells throughout the novel. In doing so, she emphasizes that there is value in all stories, because each one reminds us that we matter. With Zachary, I fell deep into the depths of a secret literary society and took part in a dance between fate and freewill that reminded me of the importance and impact of our own choices.
Morgenstern's writing is lush and whimsical. Under her pen, even the mundane becomes fantastical. Each fable in The Starless Sea reads like a different genre, but somehow also bleeds seamlessly into the next section. I never felt like I was being taken out of the story, because I got the sense that there was something bigger that connected each part of the book.
The one issue I had with this book is that I wish the relationships were given a bit more time to breathe, as I often felt we had jumped over big parts of their development. In particular, I wish I had gotten to spend more time with Dorian and Mirabel, whose personalities and histories felt a bit sparse to me. Part of me thinks that we're given just enough to keep these characters as elusive and magical as they feel, but the more selfish part of me desperately needs more backstory to flesh these guys out.
As much as I'd like to resist comparisons between this book and Morgenstern's last, Zachary's journey reminded me so much of Bailey's in The Night Circus. Without spoiling either plot, both Zachary and Bailey seem to have a similar relationship with fate and choice (yes, I know, I'm mentioning choice again just let me have this). Zachary wants so much for life to have a discernible plot, a direction to travel towards some important conclusion. They are both characters whose choices matter, written so that we remember that our own choices matter. They remind me that fate gives us opportunities, but we have to make the decision to take them. I feel like that's a reminder I need all the time.
“You want a place to be like it was in the book but it’s not a place in a book it’s just words. The place in your imagination is where you want to go and that place is imaginary.”
The Starless Sea is another stunning novel from Erin Morgenstern — well plotted, well paced, and with intriguing and real characters who felt completely brought to life through gorgeous prose. You really get the sense that the writing lives beyond the pages in your hand, that the story lives on without you, spiralling into something more.
RATING
Postcards from Athens
September 03, 2018
August 24th, 2018
One ten-hour flight later, and I’m walking around the heart of Ancient Greece as the sun rolls over the hills above me. It’s so surreal to watch the day-to-day hustle and bustle of a modern city against the backdrop of an ancient world. The fact that the people who live here get to walk past ruins and monuments on their commute to work is unreal to me. Apartment buildings and local stores are built right into the same mountainous terrain as historical landmarks, and the locals just walk around me without a second look — because, of course, this is their normal.
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| The Temple of Zeus (feat. Me) |
August 26th, 2018
Standing under ancient ruins that are centuries old makes me feel so small. You'll be strolling along a cobbled street, peering into store windows and hiding from the sun, when you stumble upon these marble columns that tower over you with their decadence. You take a step closer to admire the finer details - the smooth curves, the intricate designs, the personal inscriptions carved into hidden corners. It's hard to imagine that these places were real once.
August 27th, 2018
People keep telling us that Athens is experiencing a cool summer, but it does not feel like it. While I hide under the hat I bought at a local marketplace, the heat is unrelenting - beating down on our faces, arms, legs, and giving me a tan I haven't had in a while. Once in a while a cool breeze will grant us some relief, but in a few seconds it's gone and the sun will pull us back into its sleepy haze. Then, when I crawl into bed at the end of the night, anticipating sleep, I feel more awake than ever and unable to rest until a ridiculous hour in the morning. Oh, the joys of timezones.
August 27th, 2018
We hiked up the Acropolis this morning, and all of a sudden it was like we were in a different world. With the rest of Athens down below, we could wander around and pretend that this is all there is. There's something special about being able to walk where the ancients once walked and marvel at the same magnificent sights.
August 28th, 2018
We visited the archeological site of Aristotle's Lykeion this morning, allowing ourselves to wander the grounds and examine the excavation sites, and in the afternoon we spent an hour or so travelling to the Temple of Poseidon. The temple sits atop a mountain and has been weathered away by time and by the sea. A tour guide within earshot mentions that Lord Byron himself carved his own name on the side of the temple, graffiti leftover from another world.
CIRCE: An anthem for the silenced women in Greek mythology
May 01, 2018
“Later, years later, I would hear a song made of our meeting. I was not surprised by the portrait of myself: the proud witch undone before the hero’s sword, kneeling and begging for mercy. Humbling women seems to me a chief pastime of poets. As if there can be no story unless we crawl and weep.”
Circe is the witch daughter of the Titan Helios, god of the sun, and a constant source of disappointment for her family. After unlocking her powers and committing a heinous act in her father’s halls, Circe finds herself banished to the island of Aiaia, where she is condemned to spend the rest of her eternity. On Aiaia, Circe learns to control her occult powers, makes a home for herself amongst the creatures on her isle, and encounters figures such as the man-beast Minotaur, clever Daedalus and his son Icarus, the love struck and murderous Medea, and, of course, the great hero Odysseus.
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| A wonderful book and a gorgeous cover to boot. |
This book is enchanting; it cast a spell upon me as I read it, enveloping me within its pages and delivering both a timely and timeless epic. It flicks through centuries with ease, telling stories that feel both enormous and personal. The prose is elegant and simplistic, suited to Circe’s character and the book’s tone, and I was invested in both the immortal problems of the gods and the vicious whims of mortals. There is no structured plot to follow in Circe – not in the traditional sense. Rather, Miller offers a portrait of growth for a minor character whose original author(s) wrote her in one dimension. This is a book about reinvention. This is a book about creating a home for oneself, and finding self-worth from within. It did take around two or three chapters for the characters and setting to grab hold of me – but once I was in, I was in. I devoured this novel within 48 hours, and it would have been less if I didn’t need to sleep.
I want to add that, in the wake of the #MeToo and #TimesUp movements, this book feels like it came right on time – but it also feels like I’ve been waiting for it forever. In an interview, Miller commented on the impact of Circe’s tale on the modern social landscape, and observed that: “Witches are women who have more power than society says they should”. In a world that has so often neglected the stories of powerful women, Circe shines as bright as the sun. It is a story that demonstrates the complexities and darker themes of womanhood, while also emphasizing the value in love and compassion – traits that are so often overlooked when we talk about what it means to be a strong female character.
Beautifully written, wonderfully unique, and well worth the read.
“It is a common saying that women are delicate creatures – flowers, eggs, anything that may be crushed in a moment’s carelessness. If I had ever believed it, I no longer did.”
I want to add that, in the wake of the #MeToo and #TimesUp movements, this book feels like it came right on time – but it also feels like I’ve been waiting for it forever. In an interview, Miller commented on the impact of Circe’s tale on the modern social landscape, and observed that: “Witches are women who have more power than society says they should”. In a world that has so often neglected the stories of powerful women, Circe shines as bright as the sun. It is a story that demonstrates the complexities and darker themes of womanhood, while also emphasizing the value in love and compassion – traits that are so often overlooked when we talk about what it means to be a strong female character.
Beautifully written, wonderfully unique, and well worth the read.
RATING
Content warnings: violence, gore, rape, torture, graphic childbirth scenes
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