Defying the cycle of thought…




Now, a glimpse into how it all fits into a blox.

Similar to the way Cornell liked to jot down notes and ideas, creating dossiers – I, too, found myself writing down things as I read. Whether this was in the margins of the book, on a sticky note, in a word document, I found myself trying hard to hold on to an image, a thought, an idea. I knew that if I didn’t record it, this vision would be gone. The quickness of a thought bubble, is that unless you ground it, it will not last.

Cornell was fascinated with the idea of the glimpse – of capturing the glimpse. He pursued the glimpse in a voyeuristic manner. The thing about a glimpse, though, is that it is quick. It is not a gaze. It is not a stare. It is but a momentary connection between your eye and something else. And then it is gone. However, the power of a glimpse lies in the way that it can still stay ingrained in your mind, long after it has faded from real life. This is what I tried to capture in my blox. I wanted to provide glimpses into the lives of the characters in the book. But the thing about a blox, is that the images will stay as they are. However, I wanted my blox to imply a sort of movement, despite how fixed it is. I wanted to give people that glimpse, but to allow that glimpse to change. The more people glimpse, the more they see.

Another aspect that Cornell focused on with regards to the blox, is the idea of capturing a sense of nostalgia. He was focused on childhood, on remembering it, reflecting on it, gaining a sense of it back. Many of his works focused on the loss of home. This is highly relevant in My Sister’s Keeper, where it is about the loss of childhood at an early age, and the collapse of a family, a home.

I wanted my blox to start with the all-consuming fire. The fire is the catalyst in the book – it is what starts off each storyline. Therefore, I wanted it to start off my blox. As I took my notes, I realized that I glimpsed fire throughout the book – both physically and symbolically. And then I started to think about what the fire meant, what it implied – how quickly it can start, how quickly it can damage. I thought about the things that a fire destroyed in the book – relationships, homes, innocence, hope, time. I wanted to capture these ideas in my blox. And so I added the touching of the hands to symbolize how quick someone can enter and leave your life, but how their touch can be long-lasting. The hands also symbolize how a quick touch on the check, pat on the shoulder, can mean so much to someone. It quickly says – you are not alone.

I added the eye to show how life can change in the blink of an eye. Also, how the eye is quick to judge, quick to only see what is on the surface. But if you look deeper, you see much more movement. Life is not so fixed and black and white. The sunrise and sunset symbolize the hope that comes with a new day – how fast that hope can surface, how quickly it can disappear. Also, the sunrise and sunset emphasize the passage of time and make one aware that time is passing quickly, and, therefore, one must use one’s time wisely.

There is the calendar that mirrors the way the book is formatted by days. It also lends to the quickness of time in a more literal sense. The house collapsing in the fire epitomizes the family in this book, whose walls quickly fall down, but whose foundations had been rotting for years. Sometimes security is only an illusion. We spend so much time building it, but it can disintegrate in a moment.

The bear symbolizes how quickly innocence can be lost. There is movement behind the bear, that seems to be propelling it forward faster than the bear would like. The stars show how quickly things can exist and then be gone. Stars flick in and out of our vision. Anna is named after a star. Her reasoning for starting the lawsuit is feeling like she doesn’t exist. Also, the idea of feeling invisible is felt by Jesse – the brother – as well. The idea that life is moving so quick, we don’t matter – that is scary.

The popping of the bubble is one of the most integral photos in my mind. Here is the popping of the world that has been carefully constructed. Here is the popping of innocence. Here is the popping of what was expected. And instead, there is a bursting of unexpected. There is reality. And it all happens so fast. It all starts to blur together.

I tried to layer all the pictures in a way, that they moved right into the other. The movement is so fast, it is hard to tell one photo from the next – one idea from the other. Here is the notion that if you don’t stop to breathe and think things through, life will just pass you by. You will catch a glimpse, and nothing else.

That is why I included the final image – the flower. This represents the moments in the book where someone smiles or laughs, where someone just lets him or herself live in the moment and enjoy it. Here is the idea that these moments are fleeting – they are but one amongst many darker and gloomier days – but they still exist, and if we are quick, too quick, we will miss out on them.

While reading this text, I sometimes felt like it was hard to breathe, that time was just moving too fast and while the character’s world was spiraling out of control, it was hard for me not to feel some of this disorientation. I literally felt like I was constantly catching glimpses of one thing or another, then having to quickly put them together into something meaningful. This is what I hope to convey in this blox. I want viewers to realize that life is quick, and it is easy to get lost in the detail, if one isn’t careful.

Quickly, let’s discuss how to adapt.

Seger writes: “Novels and films express themselves in different ways. Fiction uses words to tell a story, describe character, and build ideas. Films use image and action” (27). Here comes the trouble with adapting: how do we take a complicated text, where words can help clarify thematic issues, plot devices, character traits, and translate that solely into images? How can we take a text that is quick through its theme, its narration, its use of point of view, and put that into a visual display?

This is when I thought back to Calvino – how is this story quick? How does the storyline lend to quickness? And then it hit me. The storyline is about how quick our innocence bubble is popped. It is about accepting reality, coping with change, living with consequences, learning that every action has a reaction. Every word we speak, every word we don’t speak – people notice.

Seger talks about the journey. If we are viewing this story with regards to how quickly people lose their innocence, then the journey is one of discovering reality. The goal, then, is learning to accept it. There is a fluidity to Picoult’s book, despite the fragmentation of points of view. There is a propelling movement through this fluidity – a sort of pulse. And this motion guides us on the journey – giving us details that build upon details, speeding us forward.

Every character experiences the moment when they realize life is not as stable as they once believed. At one point, Kate and Anna’s mother says: “Driving home, I am struck by the sudden thought that the world is inflatable – trees and grass and houses ready to collapse with the single prick of a pin” (Picoult 34). Here is her epiphany. Life can be popped and can collapse quickly.

Another issue to identify when it comes to adaptation, is figuring out the catalyst and knowing the conflict. In this case, the catalyst is Kate. She has cancer, and because of this, her innocence, and the innocence of those around her, is taken. The conflict – how to cope with this news. A catalyst is the essence of quickness – it speeds up a reaction. Kate causes everyone to lose their innocence quicker than they probably would have. She speeds up the process of facing reality.

And finally, another layer of quickness present in this book, that is a catalyst for reality, is the idea of fire. Before each section opens up, there is a quote about fire. It opens up the chapter – it is literally the catalyst for each chapter. It ignites each story. To add a couple more layers to this: the dad is a fireman. The son starts fires to gain attention. The father is fascinated with stars, which are, in many ways, gaseous fires in the sky. Anna is named after a star. And like a star, she is quick – she flickers in and out of existence. At one point, the dad says the following: “A fire can’t burn forever. Eventually, it consumes itself” (Picoult 37). Fires are quick. They can be started quick. They can be stopped relatively fast. The effects, though, are long lasting.

Eventually time will run out – eventually it will be consumed.

Experience can be quick.

Time is relative. Sometimes it seems like life is moving slow, so slow, that each second is dragging into the next, just barely inching along. Other times, it seems like the world is spinning, fast, too incredibly fast, that you just can’t breathe. Then there are the times,you reflect on how a day can seem so long, but how the week just flew right by. You think you just met a person, but it feels like it has been forever. One musical that I really enjoy is Rent. In this musical, there is a song entitled “Seasons of Love” and it talks about the ways in which people can measure time. There is no set way to measure how quick something happens, however, we all use like tricks to mark the passage of life.

Calvino described quickness as the shortest distance between two points. In literature, quickness has to do with style, theme, word choice, plot, characterization. A text that embodies quickness, though, also emphasizes the idea of digression. It illustrates how, if we get too caught up in the details, a quick text can “quickly” become slow. Also, sometimes a heavy idea can be diluted if it is told quickly, or if the idea changes rapidly after. Quickness can be used to make heavy ideas easier to deal with. It is also a means to uphold attention. However, quickness, like time, is not black and white.

My Sister’s Keeper embodies the idea of quickness in many ways. Most obviously, is the main plot: a young girl, Kate, is dying of leukemia. Her life is passing by at a rapid pace. It is limited. A sense that life is finite, seems to accompany the idea of quickness. We are quick, when we know we don’t have much time. The novel requires the other characters to make quick life or death decisions. Sacrifices must be made. However, the idea of an approaching death is quite heavy. It is slow and difficult to grasp. While Kate’s death is approaching at a fast pace, as she is in the final stages of renal failure, her death has been slow coming. She was diagnosed at the age of three. Her life is measured in relapses and remissions. It is about time slowing down, and then hoping it will speed back up and that she will get better. It has not been a question of will she die, but a question of when. The question of “when?” automatically situates the reader and characters to focus on time.

This fixation with time – how much time is left, how one is spending time, how time can be borrowed – all of these have to do with the idea of quickness. When we sense that time exists in an hour glass, we are forced to make wise decisions with what to do with our time, all the while knowing that as we sit and ponder, more sand is falling through the glass.

The way the book is written, also lends to its quickness. It is separated by days of the week. Each section is a different day, in chronological order. The book spans two weeks. Therefore, as the reader flips through the pages, he or she can’t help but be reminded of time and how quickly it is passing. With each day – or each section – Kate is closer to dying. Another method that Jodi Picoult, the author, utilizes, is differing perspective. There are about seven characters that she migrates between. This makes the pace seem quicker. It also helps diminish the heaviness of each passage. You read something deep or painful and intense, but then it is quickly over and you are on to the next person. It is used as a means of relief for the reader.

This makes me wonder if quickness is something we use to escape from really immersing ourselves in the hard stuff. If we can quickly brush something off, is this the simpler thing to do?

My Sister’s Keeper also involves a legal battle. Kate’s sister, Anna, was genetically modified to be the perfect bone marrow match for Kate. She was engineered and born to save her sister. She is, in essence, her sister’s keeper. However, the decisions were always made for her. She was quickly told to help her sister, but Anna never got the chance to really think about the implications. The novel centers around her realization that she wants control of her own body. She sues her parents for medical emancipation – or rights to her own body. Therefore, the sense that Anna is fighting not to give her sister the kidney that is need to save Kate’s life, adds to the urgency of Kate’s situation. It makes it all that more important that the court hearing occur quickly, so that the family can then figure out what to do with their lives.

Another way, perhaps one of the most poignant ways, in which quickness can be seen in this novel, is the way in which all the children in this family must mature at a rapid pace. Their innocence is taken away at a young age. They must cope with problems way beyond their years. Childhood, for them, occurs too fast.

The characters in this novel have most of their problems because things occurs too quickly – before they could breathe, gain control, really assess the situation. They had to be quick, or else they wouldn’t survive. Jodi Picoult crafts this book in a clever way by jumping from one narrative and one day to the next. She is forcing her readers to be quick, with the characters. She is telling us that we better keep up, or we will fall behind – that life can be rough and horrible and hard to grasp, but that we need to, and then we need to keep moving. Through her style, she creates a pulse, a propelling motion forward. Whether this is to Kate’s death or not, we are moving, we are discovering, we are learning, we are feeling. The journey is deep, but it is quick – much like life, itself.