Essay 1: “The Elephant Vanishes” by Steve Coraor
Haruki Murakami, one of the most critically acclaimed and widely read authors in Japan today, is labeled by many as a postmodernist. His short story “The Elephant Vanishes” is a prime example of why this label has been placed on Murakami’s work. It includes a number of characteristics that are definitively postmodern and deals with themes that seem to be drawn from the time period of the artist. Specifically, Murakami employs the fundamental principles of a postmodern work: incorporation of technologies and the natural, anti-functionalistic architecture, the concrete body displaced by its image, and a disconnection from or a resistance to history and the metanarrative.
Murakami utilizes the first of these postmodern principles, the incorporation of technologies and the natural, as a focal point of “The Elephant Vanishes.” Clearly the image of the elephant represents a connection to the natural that becomes incorporated into modern society. The descriptive detail of the transaction between town and zoo for the custody of the elephant explains the exact relationship that this society has with the natural. The mayor’s explanations for the keeping of the elephant centered around the idea of the natural elephant as an economical gain for the community: the elephant was of insignificant cost to keep, it was old and therefore would eat little and put no one in danger, upon death the town would keep the land, and the elephant could become the town’s symbol. None of these explanations take into consideration the concept of the natural except the last where the elephant become an icon for the town’s greatness for housing a natural elephant. Following this theme, the town clear-cuts a wood to build the elephant’s cage and, once the elephant vanishes, soon forgets about the whole ordeal.
The vanishing of the elephant has a number of implications, but relating to the incorporation of technology, the architecture of the cage plays a key role. The cage built by the town is the ultimate manifestation of technology and attempts to serve a very functional purpose: to house and keep housed the elephant. Interestingly, the cage fails in this intended function when the elephant vanishes and thus becomes utterly useless. It was clearly Murakami’s intention to illustrate the irony of the town’s desire to house the elephant as a natural mascot while their own technological architecture could not contain the elephant itself. The idea of this natural mascot leads to another postmodern characteristic of “The Vanishing Elephant.”
From the town’s acceptance of the elephant as a mascot to its apparent shrinking witnessed by the narrator, the body of the elephant becomes displaced by its image. A mascot is often the adoption of an image of a natural animal meant to represent some aspect of the group who creates it. In the case of the elephant, the image of the natural is desired by the town as a point of pride as if to say, “We are a technologically advanced town who incorporates the natural.” Of course, the image of the elephant only partially represents its actual body. However, the shrinking of the elephant as witnessed by the narrator suggests a disassociation with the body and an actualization of image. The town’s disinterest with the elephant after the initial flurry of excitement is shown through the shrinking of the elephant, replacing the body of the elephant with its image.
“The Elephant Vanishes” truly employs a variety of postmodern themes that allow Murakami to comment on society while retaining the idea that his story does not explain or lead to any other story. This resistance to the historical and metanarrative arises in the narrator’s conversation with the business woman he attempts to woo. His excitement for the retelling of the tale of the vanishing elephant disappears when he realizes the conversation has nowhere to turn. While retelling the tale, the couple’s excitement grows as the spiritual acts of the narrator (such as finding the cliff to view the elephant and the interest the narrator has in the elephant) become integral to the historical account of the elephant. However, once this moment has passed and the conversation drifts to other points, the magic is lost and the only solution is to end the relationship. This is indeed how Murakami’s tale of “The Vanishing Elephant” ends, with the culmination of all facts surrounding the disappearance of the elephant and the utter de-spiritualization of all characters and events involved. Through this aspect of the work and all other postmodern themes employed throughout, it is clear the “The Elephant Vanishes” definitely qualifies as a postmodern work which comments on many aspects of society.
Essay 2: A Gesture Life by Michael Lin
Hata’s traumatic memories make it harder for him to grasp the already elusive concept of home. His experiences with love and loss shattered his perception of himself and forced him to create the “gesture life” that he lives. Most importantly, Hata’s love of K, and its subsequent destruction, damaged his already fragile view of home and country. His countrymen, his supposed comrades, took from him the only thing that he had ever loved, and he was powerless to stop them. He suffered the ultimate betrayal, and was left a broken man because of it. Even before then, however, Hata was an outsider. As an ethnic Korean, he was always aware of the differences between him and his countrymen, even in his supposed home of Japan. Even if he was treated no differently than ethnic Japanese were, the fact that the difference existed at all was enough to make him an outsider in his own land. On top of these ethnic differences, Hata grew up with adopted parents, another fact that could never have changed. No matter how much they loved him, he would always know that they were not his real parents. All of these aspects of his past distorted his notion of acceptance and home, and forced the creation of the superficial self-image that Hata constantly maintains.
It is no surprise that Hata’s history led him to America, where outsiders are more easily welcomed. It is also no surprise that the difficulties he experienced in his past made it extremely difficult for him to provide a loving home for Sunny. Throughout his entire life the pain of his memories warped his concept of home, and the best home he can provide is only an extension of his gesture life. It is merely a home created to mimic other homes, with no real basis in his mind, heart, or life. Hata’s house is a reflection of that, with its always spotless and perfectly arranged interior, and its similarly impeccable exterior. One could say that his house is without a soul: simply form without function. Despite Hata’s best efforts, his distorted self-image and worldview cannot create a true home, as evidenced by Sunny’s rebellion against him, and the failure of his relationship with Mary.
For most of his life Hata lives his gesture life, always trying to create that which he does not know, always trying too hard to do all the wrong things. It is only after he reunites with Sunny and begins to spend time with Thomas that he is able to grasp the fundamental building block of a home:
“It was then I understood better what had upset Mary Burns about her daughter’s phone call. There is a need for the belief—even if illusory—that despite the ever-obvious evidence of familial messiness and complication, one’s child will always hold the most unconditional regard for her parent, the same one no doubt that Mary Burns felt her heart spill over with when she was handed her newborn daughter, and which I am sure washes over me whenever Thomas tugs my hand. We wish it somehow pure, this thing, we wish it unmixed, unalloyed with human hope or piety or fear or maybe even love. For we wish it not to be ornate.
And yet it always is.”
It is only now that Hata realizes what he must do to feel at home. His love for Sunny and Mary was always decorated with his own ideals, expectations, and hopes. Instead of loving for the sake of love, as he loved K, he loved in an attempt to escape his past loss and alienation. Instead of allowing himself to be accepted as a part of their lives in whatever role he could fill, he tried to present himself in their lives in a role he designed to minimize his pain, and failed. His failure came not from a lack of will or emotion, but simply his inability to allow himself to be himself, choosing instead to continue to pose. Hata continued to display his unwillingness when Sunny went to him pregnant for the first time. He showed that he learned the wrong lesson from his past with K, and instead of choosing the moral but difficult route, he chose to reject his morals and preserve his status.
However, Hata does finally realize his failures at the very end of the novel. Although he chooses to leave his life behind, indicating that he believes that he has no real role in the town or Sunny’s life, which is untrue, he does so leaving behind very generous gifts. And in his leaving, he is finally able to do what he never could before: allow his generosity and love to be taken plain and unadorned. Finally he is able to create a home, even though it is a home that he believes he does not belong in, and thus he is finally able to come almost home.
Essay 3: Ghost in the Shell by Peter Jeong
As the Puppetmaster said in Mamoru Oshii’s Ghost in the Shell, “Even modern science cannot define what life truly is.” In a very possible future, Oshii depicts a futuristic world, where wireless internet, GIS, GPS, and androids are commonplace. Cyber enhanced humans and complete cyborgs are everywhere. Ghost in the Shell, focuses on a particular cyborg, Motoko Kusanagi. Nicknamed “Major”, Motoko is an agent of Section 9, a secret government agency assigned to identify and eliminate terrorist threats. With no recollection of her past, Motoko is in constant search of herself. In the movie, those who have “Ghosts” are considered life forms, but the Puppermaster, a manmade program, seemingly formed his own ghost, which once again blurs the distinction of what is a life form and what is not. As society approaches the age of artificial intelligence, cloning, and genetics, self-perception and relationships become more vivid yet so distant.
The main philosophy of Ghost in the Shell focuses on the relationship between self and consciousness. The movie proposes that “self” is created through one’s memories and experiences, but it raises the question of whether an artificial compilation of memories and experiences can create a consciousness, or in other words, a ghost. The Puppetmaster, a self-proclaimed life form, achieved such a feat. Despite being spawned in the “sea of information” The Puppetmaster can think and evolve by hacking into other people’s ghosts and attaining their knowledge, memories and experience. If a purely technological being can think and evolve, what remains to distinguish man from machine? Technology and genetics have become so intertwined that life is no longer limited to organic beings. However, what makes one human? Batou suggests that one is human when he is treated as one, but does treating computers as humans truly make them human? Motoko, being a full cyborg, is respected as the top agent in Section 9 and is clearly treated as a human being. However, her persistent efforts to “feel” emotions, depict her human characteristics, also make her very inhuman. Her struggle to find herself is strengthened after encountering the Puppetmaster, which created an interesting dichotomy: Motoko has a physical body but seemingly no ghost, while the Puppetmaster, who has no body, appears to have a ghost.
While today’s society is not as advanced as the one depicted in Ghost in the Shell, subtle similar parallels exist. The Internet defines a lot about the “self.” The “sea of information” is most likely the net in which the Puppetmaster was conceived. In this sea, people can share data and information with others as if they were face to face. The Internet is just another environment in which people don their masks and adapt. Like the Puppetmaster, people create a sense of “self” with no body. Without a physical body, people can talk with absolute freedom and without fear of putting one’s physical reputation on the line. If one is met with contempt or opposition, another mask can be adopted and accessing the net is once again made plain and simple. Just as in Ghost in the Shell: Stand Alone Complex, when an individual is persecuted or disliked, he can easily switch his body, much like how a snail changes its shell. Nevertheless, because there are no physical bodies, truly judging and knowing a person through the Internet is impossible. Even with emoticons, emotions and feelings cannot be emulated through the ‘net. The Puppetmaster was considered genderless due to the lack of physical evidence, and expressed no emotions throughout the movie. A self with no body cannot be classified as man or woman, but because the identity is constructed in a digital space, gender can be created.
Returning to the original question concerning life, the Puppetmaster, much like a person in society, is striving to achieve stability. Motoko seemingly has stability during the beginning of the movie. She carries out her responsibilities in a very methodical, robot-like fashion. Paradoxically, man seeks to achieve complexity and diversity by retaining his individuality and his “self.” The Puppetmaster, a “self” without a body, is a very powerful being, and in some ways he is an immortal. Yet even information has a life span. The Puppetmaster realizes that a single virus could destroy him, and therefore recognizes the predicament he is in. As a result, he merges with Motoko in order to obtain that stability. Interestingly, the humans in the movie and the series want to obtain cybernetic enhancements while the only complete cybernetic being wishes to become more biologically human. As society continues to grow technologically and culturally, Oshii is ultimately imposing a question upon his viewers: man adapts to fit his own instruments, which were made to further society and culture, but what happens when those instruments begin to adapt to fit man?