Friday, March 12, 2010

Substantive: Grass

We discussed in class, while reading The Martian Chronicles, about the potential concerns of a telepathic race. What would happen if human beings came into contact with them, what kind of control could they exert, etc. Here in Grass we see all too clearly what would happen: the Hippae, brutal and cruel, use human beings as a tool in their war to conquer Grass at the expense of the foxen, who they cannot believe are a higher version of themselves. It was horrific, to me, to see such a tradition--a barbaric one, but a tradition nonetheless--as the foxhunt perverted for the means of slaughter of intelligent beings.

I know this is a class focusing on aliens, so the Hippae, the Hounds, the Foxen--that should be our focal point, but the bons seem to me even more exceptionally alien: perhaps because their minds have been overshadowed by the mounts. To be fair, they reject (as does Marjorie, in a way) the Manifest Destiny imposed by the Sanctified, who seem to see the universe as a focal point for spreading the gospel, whatever that may be. However, they also seem to lack the basic human empathy, as for instance when Marjorie brings up the plague, and Sylvan professes not to care.

Is this what isolation does to human beings? I understand that there are outlying factors, in particular the telepathic dominance of the Hippae, but it seems to me that a group as aristocratic and isolated, as well as turned inward, as the bons would eventually forget the rest of humanity. The absent-minded cruelty of this class is not entirely out of order, even in our own history--British imperialism and the White Man's Burden, for instance. And yet, even amongst themselves, thanks to the Hippae, they seem to have turned into something other than humans. Shevlok ravishes an insensible Janetta, the Ordmun bon Danfels physically abuses his wife and daughters--we are their pets, to do with as they like, and as the book continues we see that the humans most exposed to the Hippae become most like them. Joy-to-kill-strangers is, I believe, the Arbai word the Hippae trace in the cavern.

I think it's interesting that you insert into this story, on the other side, a devoutly Catholic equestrian. Marjorie's values are challenged frequently--most often by her own marriage, where her husband, despite openly having a mistress, blames her for their difficulties--and in her we see how potent the notion of original sin can be. How potent guilt can be. And yet, with Marjorie, we see someone who is driven into action by it, in particular towards the end of the book, whereas the foxen, who seem to possess nothing but guilt, are virtually immobilized.

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