Kat's Commonplace Notebook (ENGL 3460.10)

This passage in Book 4 references Satan’s infamous talent for seductive “Rhetoric,” which -- as Milton points out -- worked so effectively on Eve but fails to sway Jesus Christ. Eve is somewhat derisively invoked here as a reminder of Satan’s previous power, albeit without any reference to the quite profound justification Eve provides for wanting to procure knowledge. I may be interpreting this passage incorrectly, but the phrase “Eve was Eve” seems to gesture toward her weakness -- particularly in comparison to Jesus’s might against Satan. I was irked by this moment, because in my own reading of Paradise Lost, Eve came across as compelling and rational in her hopes for liberation through knowledge. While Milton does, indeed, write Satan as a “fraud” and a “Tempter,” Eve deserves more credit. Is she weak because she does not wish to live in blissful ignorance? I think not! 

I was astonished at this irreverent assessment of Paradise Lost, as it hits on some of our most vibrant discussions about agency, seduction, and divine authority! Bruno appears most enamored with Satan’s “self-invention,” which resists the “paternalistically castigatory abashments of God” that leave no room for free will, self-formation, etc. Of course, this romantic characterization of Satan omits some of the fallen angel’s predatory / disingenuous tendencies, including his relationship with Eve and other demons. However, Bruno encapsulates the appeal of a figure who attempts to exercise agency against an authoritative system. God is no protagonist in this narrative! “And also like Satan, I’m a beautiful loser” is a perfectly priceless line, albeit a loaded one. Perhaps our “beautiful loser” can be someone who rebels without abusing others along the way. 

I was stirred by the tense negotiation between human and angel power in this moment, as Coulter perceives her vulnerability in Metatron’s angelic presence and attempts to assert agency. There is something almost predatory about this encounter -- because Coulter’s flesh becomes a disturbing object of lust for Metatron’s consumption. However, this moment is also framed to demonstrate Metatron’s own vulnerability, as Coulter is keenly aware that he “coveted” human flesh and “longed for contact with it.” As I mentioned on Slack (regarding another moment between Metatron and Coulter), Pullman’s depiction of angelic desire is troubling and uncertain; while Coulter seems to claim some sort of agency in this moment (i.e., observing Metatron’s weakness), I don’t think there is enough interrogation of Metatron’s predatory characterization. 

Thorold’s stirring description of Lord Asriel presents some compelling questions about the nature of human power / how that human power may relate to Milton’s representation of control in Paradise Lost. Much of Thorold’s characterization of Asriel hearkens to Satan’s description in PL; both hold an “ambition” that challenges the divine authority of God, and both, indeed, “dare to do what men and women don’t even dare to think.” However, a central part of Lord Asriel’s exceptionalism is his humanity; Satan, of course, is a fallen angel with an army of demons rallying around him. I nonetheless remain interested in their parallels, and there is, perhaps, something to be said for the exceptionalist depiction of these figures. Lord Asriel’s prerogative transcends any other human’s aspirations (according to Thorold), while Satan is certainly an outlier when it comes to his remarkable anger/vengefulness. Additionally, I am fascinated by Thorold’s comparison of Asriel to the fallen angels themselves; he suggests that “human power” can be mightier than that of angels -- specifically, Asriel’s human power! In Paradise Lost, meanwhile, attempts to claim such human agency are met with severe punishment. 

This particular passage exemplifies issues of knowledge/ignorance and innocence/experience that we have often discussed in reference to Milton’s Paradise Lost. As I mentioned in the Slack channel, Lyra’s innocence is somewhat baffling to me; in certain passages, it seems that Pullman romanticizes her inexperience, despite (or in tandem with?) the fact that she possesses an exclusive ability to comprehend the atheliometer’s messages. The declaration that “only in her ignorance can we be saved” reminds me of knowledge’s villainization in PL, which suggests that certain experience/enlightenment taints humanity. Like Milton’s portrayal of Eve, I think there is an idyllic depiction of innocence and ignorance at play in Lyra’s characterization. However, Lyra’s ability to “make mistakes” is also emphasized, which does trouble a potential villainization of experience. My main qualm: Lyra’s “destiny” -- as a young, relatively privileged girl -- is directly associated with her “ignorance.” I wonder what this conflation might look like if Lyra were less advantaged, or perhaps, a young girl of color instead. 

I first read Shelley’s Frankenstein in high school, prior to any sort of familiarity with Paradise Lost and its interrogation of divine power. However, upon reading Milton’s epic, the symbolic intricacies of Shelley’s novel pack an entirely different sort of punch! Rather than just constructing her characters to parallel power dynamics and issues detailed in Milton’s epic, Shelley directly references Paradise Lost from the “Creature”’s POV; in my opinion, this choice is provocative for its unabashed engagement with the text. Most compelling is Shelley’s subversion of dichotomous analogies; the Creature, of course, compares himself to both Satan and Adam, albeit delivering an idealized view of the latter’s life. Ironically enough, the Creature says he cannot be Adam because has been deprived of “joy for no misdeed”; a critical reading of Milton’s God, however, would suggest that Adam and Eve experienced this fate as well. If the Creature considers himself comparable to Satan, though, he still sees Dr. Frankenstein as his God; Dr. Frankenstein himself bears similarities to Eve and Adam (especially Eve in his desire for knowledge/labor) AND Satan. Shelley does not map merely one Milton character onto her own creations! Moving forward, I am especially interested in the relationship between knowledge and power that manifests in Dr. Frankenstein AND the Creature’s intellectual labor. Neither one of these attainments ends particularly well, but for the Doctor, knowledge still constitutes power (however disastrous it may be). For the Creature, learning does not ameliorate his alienation. Who is allowed to benefit from the supposed empowerment of knowledge, we might ask? 

“Though the cry of irreligion, or even atheism, be raised against me, I will simply declare, that were an angel from heaven to tell me that Moses’s beautiful, poetical cosmogony, and the account of the fall of man, were literally true, I could not believe what my reason told me was derogatory to the character of the Supreme Being: and, having no fear of the devil before mine eyes, I venture to call this a suggestion of reason, instead of resting my weakness on the broad shoulders of the first seducer of my frail sex” (Wollstonecraft 101). In this stirring tirade against Christian normativity, Wollstonecraft appears to indict patriarchal understandings of Christianity and presents an alternate view of her gender -- despite the risk that she will be accused of “irreligion.” However, there is a friction at play in this vision; even as Wollstonecraft argues against male tyranny in Christianity, she reaffirms her devotion to the “Supreme Being” and therefore adheres to what is, arguably, another form of patriarchy. Especially in light of God’s portrayal in Paradise Lost, there is an irony in the devotion to this gendered authority whose ethics are hotly debated. Still, there is something incredibly radical in Wollstonecraft’s defense of Eve, particularly because she openly admits the likelihood that she will be called an atheist. “I simply declare,” she says, and therefore conducts a total paradigm shift of Christianity. In my opinion, powerful quotes from Eve in Milton’s epic would bolster this argument; however, I don’t think Wollstonecraft makes use of those moments in this passage. As we discussed, audience is a principal factor in Wollstonecraft’s authorial positionality, but Eve’s meditations on power would provide an apt addition to Wollstonecraft’s words. 

As we discussed in class, Wheatley’s “On being brought from AFRICA to AMERICA” opposes some of the revolutionary rhetoric we have observed in her other work. Indeed, Wheatley deploys some of the same dichotomies that Milton uses in Paradise Lost, the most notable of these oppositions including Pagan versus Christian and Light versus Dark. Just as Milton associates Pagan beliefs and gods with Hell, Wheatley positions her “Pagan land” as something from which she is rescued from by “mercy.” She also refers to herself as “benighted,” a word that troublingly associates darkness with ignorance; Milton, too, is prone to villainize darkness in the rhetoric of Paradise Lost. However, in the latter half of the poem, Wheatley begins to indict the racism of enslavers, attempting to upset the dichotomy of light versus dark that she employs at the beginning of the poem. Nonetheless, when she tells (white) Christians that black people may “be refin’d,” she gives the impression that until one is a Christian, one is not worthy. I wonder whether there is an opening to read this poem as a satirical indictment of racist binaries that are weaponized to perpetuate enslavement. Depending on the interpretation of her comma usage, this poem may constitute a message to Christian enslavers, which explains its positionality -- and the power dynamics under which she operated. What are the stakes in reading this poem against the grain instead? I am reminded of our varied readings of Paradise Lost, and the potential for empowerment in oppositional interpretation. 

This passage is uncanny in its reminiscence to “Il Penseroso,” especially in the invocation of religious imagery to characterize supposedly empowering pain. Just as Milton tells us to “hail divinest Melancholy” in his poem on depression, Satan tells his comrades to “hail horrors, hail / Infernal world.” Horrors and Melancholy are glorified as liberating, but the reality is much more nuanced -- as demonstrated in Satan’s inner struggles and “L’Allegro’’’s role as a counterpoint to “Il Penseroso.” Milton seems acutely self-aware of such contradictions and irrational appeals to horror or depression. I am also fascinated by the demons’ subversive use of a term like “hail” -- they no longer hail God, but rather the presumed antithesis of divinity as constructed in Christian theology. It is also notable that, rather than saying they can be happy or joyful in Hell, Satan asserts that they can find what they’re looking for in the horror. Freedom in hellish autonomy, apparently, supersedes joy. Like the narrator in “Il Penseroso,” is their freedom in their pain? How will this concept be interrogated (or supported) throughout the epic? 

These lines encapsulate the troubling conflation of wisdom with depression that characterizes Milton’s “Il Penseroso.” I am particularly struck by the religious symbolism Milton deploys to celebrate Melancholy, which he openly calls “divinest” and “saintly.” Regarding the latter description, I am compelled and disturbed by Milton’s assertion that Melancholy’s “saintly visage is too bright”; this description blatantly glorifies emotional strife by suggesting, perhaps, that to be sad is to be closer to God and knowledge? He even calls humans’ sensory perceptions “weaker” because they cannot see the true holiness of Melancholy. The capitalization of “Melancholy” and “Wisdom” also feels particularly poignant, allowing Milton to make his (questionable) priorities abundantly clear. Furthermore, Milton plays with his characteristic dichotomy of light and dark, and ironically, he attributes both traits to Melancholy. It appears “black” to humans (it sounds like we will push back against the loaded implications of this word later!) but is actually just “too bright” for us mere mortals to appreciate! Thus, happiness is constructed as inferior to Melancholy... As we discussed in class, this romanticization of what we can now interpret as depression is inherently toxic. However, I think these lines, with their invocation of the light/dark binary and Milton’s association of pain with transcendence, exemplify themes that we see playing out in the first books of Paradise Lost. 

In regard to reading preferences, I adore the “traditional” novel structure and find myself drawn to that format of fiction more often than graphic novels or poetic storytelling. However, I do read the occasional comic and am consistently impressed by the added dimension that visual art provides for a text. I will admit that poems, especially those of the dense variety, are not my forte (a topical admission to make at the commencement of a Milton class, perhaps?). Despite this aversion, confounding literature provides the most rewarding fodder for analysis, so I am excited to approach Milton’s tough material this semester and build upon my appreciation for an author with whom I have only dabbled. (On Twitter, in contrast, I might post something short and not-so-sweet about the ineffability of Milton). I also enjoy a stimulating scholarly essay, especially one that approaches another text from fresh and critical angles; these sorts of analysis will be particularly useful for a text so challenging as Paradise Lost and will aid me in my own preferred form of writing, the scholarly paper. Let the Milton extravaganza begin!