Fate or Coincidence?

Most of our discussion the past week has been about Lee. This is fairly obvious considering he's a main character and we've nearly reached the climatic event, but compared to previous discussions on Lee they've been different. We aren't talking about him per se, or even how deeply connected he is to a larger group of people that guided him, but rather fate and whether or not it really exists for Lee. Now, we may have an answer to that when we think to our lives, but when we think about it in terms of Lee and the bizarre events that have all somehow led up to this oddly perfect plan (in theory), it seems like there may be more than meets the eye. Once again, there is the possibility of us just being human and trying to find a pattern in anything remotely similar, so that's important to keep in mind. 

Like I previously said, quite a bit of our conversations in class end up being centered around Lee and whether or not fate may be involved in his life. The way I read the class initially was that it was kind of a joke, but then Ferrie brought it up to Lee and suddenly we all started to legitimately think about whether Lee's life is being steered by a force like fate. Things juts align too well for Lee's involvement in the conspiracy, such as him somehow always being in the right (or wrong) place just when it's most crucial, he's already made multiple false identities for himself right when he needs to, the place he works just happens to be a prime snipers nest just to name a few. It seems too perfect, even if yet another outside party was steering Lee. Maybe it is just coincidence, maybe it is something more, but we'll never know. Personally, I'm skeptical that fate had anything to do with Lee, but I will say, it's pretty convincing even if DeLillo is inserting things here and there to make it seem like fate is active in this plot.     

Developing a Conspiracy: Forwards and Backwards

Coming out of Kindred and into Libra, I wasn't too sure how Libra would strike me. However, over the past week I've come to really enjoy Libra. Theory crafting and conspiracies are my thing as I've come to realize. While I'm not intimately acquainted with the deepest parts of theories on the JFK assassination, I think that helps this novel and makes it more interesting. We are revealed information on the matter in an unpredictable way comparable to how the events unfold in the novel or even how they happened in the past. As interesting as it is to see DeLillo reconstruct Lee Harvey Oswald's life from what we know about him, I find it quite intriguing how DeLillo takes the unexplainable and makes a new theory that combines various other theories on the assassination and tries to connect them into a, still bizarre, but mildly coherent theory in itself. We're able to connect dots and make our own theories as DeLillo has Win, Parmenter, and Banister enact their devious plans.

In itself this isn't anything particularly special, but akin to Kindred, our knowledge of the end of the matter influences how we perceive the events happening in the moment. We understand that Lee Harvey Oswald will be heavily involved in the conspiracy, JFK will be killed, and the USA does not enact essentially another attempt at Castro's life after. This leaves us in a position similar to the conspirators, assuming it works but not knowing how the process will play out. They try to connect the dots towards a goal, gathering information as they come by it, start to finish. We try to connect the dots from the result, discovering the process, finish to start.

There's still plenty of the novel left for the plan to come together in one form or another, so we still have plenty of time to work it out for ourselves. I can only imagine just how deep the conspiracy goes.

Contemplating Perception

Plenty of discussion we've had has been about the effects of the Antebellum South on the people who are already living in the time period, Dana and Kevin from the 20th century, and ourselves from the 21st century. Gradually the conversations have built upon one another as Dana has traveled to and returned from the 19th century, becoming ever more involved with how we may have dealt with the situations that Dana has been put in. Rather, we've talked about how we can't really understand the situations we read about in the same way Dana is experiencing them or easily think about how characters like Rufus would act in a 20th or 21st century environment.

Frankly, it's almost infuriating to me that, unless we've gone through a similar experience (as wholly awful that would be), we can't fully connect with the characters or understand the motivations of characters like Rufus. Not justifying any actions taken, it's both confusing and sometime appalling just how those from the Antebellum South act, even though we know that the actions are based off of them living their entire lives in that environment. Because of this, I somehow can't find myself to totally despise Rufus, but I'm still leaning over the edge of hating him for a multitude of obvious reasons. In a similar vein, though not in a negative way, it's becoming more and more apparent how Alice seems to be acting like Dana, except from a different time (which brings up even more quandaries in my mind when it comes to the situation Dana is in). Really our lack of being able to perceive the world in the same way Dana does or experience it the same way either, works better for us as readers. We can experience a similar sense of disgust and shock without having to personally experience it. We just need to gut it out with Dana through her experiences.

So It Doesn't Go

                Though I’ve already read Slaughterhouse Five a couple of times, the insight I’ve gotten from class has been a bit different from my personal interpretation. Generally speaking, I came to the same conclusion my class did about Billy and Tralfamadore, but without the basis or deeper understanding of the irony Vonnegut includes in the novel. One of these ironic statements that I somehow managed to gloss over was the ever present “so it goes.” I’m actually astonished I managed to miss how often it was used, only really seeming to notice it with the larger incidents such as the fire bombing. I missed the irony in the lesser moments such as “The water was dead. So it goes.” On one hand, the statement serves as a statement on death to undermine it, and on the other serves to outrage. In my mind, the provoking “so it goes” is certainly one of the most important aspects of the novel in terms of how it gets us as readers to reevaluate the scenes we are reading and the prospects of war.

                Obviously, war is terrible and causes suffering for all involved, but when Vonnegut chooses to describe the scenes of war and death with the statement “So it goes”, it drains the event of all weight and emotion behind it. Perhaps one of the best examples of this may be from the conversation between O’Hare and Vonnegut over the population of Dresden at the beginning of chapter 10:

On an average, 324,000 new babies are born into the world every day. During that same day, 10,000 persons, in an average, will have starved to death or died from malnutrition. So it goes. In addition, 123,000 persons will die for other reasons. So it goes. This leaves a net gain of about 191,000 each day in the world.

                Any sort of emotion that may have been felt by reading that 10,000, on average, die of malnutrition daily and over a 100,000 more die from other causes as well is just gone. Frankly, it’s disconcerting how it’s just passed by like, “It just happens. Oh well! Let’s move on with life.” We get upset at the injustices of the events or the lack of caring behind the loss of life, and by doing so, fulfill the other aspect of “so it goes”. The statement just sticks out like a sore thumb with the moment it is injected into. Because of this jarring contrast, we get up in arms at these extreme cases of death, longing to do something about it, but not with more violence. If you think about it then, Vonnegut did manage to make a sort of anti-war novel, discouraging violence and encouraging action against the violence and war. That’s not to say that the message can be taken the wrong way, especially considering the end of Billy’s story and his family, but with an understanding of “so it goes”, it does succeed at least on some level.     

A Short Thought on What is Mumbo Jumbo and Why

                Mumbo Jumbo is a novel that, after having read it, I feel like I have gotten more out of it than just another read. The multitude of important ideas and topics that Reed calls attention to are represented in a way that, for some reason sticks with the reader better than another form of the medium or even another medium. The question of “What if Mumbo Jumbo was told in a lecture format?” came up in class today and the general response to it was “It wouldn’t have worked they way it did as a novel.” Which again raises another question: Why does Mumbo Jumbo stand out the way it does when it comes to how Reed portrays the novel?

                From a literary standpoint, Mumbo Jumbo, apart from its unconventional formatting, seems to have that extra something that novels of a similar type don’t have. We brought up how Mumbo Jumbo fits the framework for genres such as Historical Thriller and Detective nearly to a T, but that lack of fitting either of those entire is what seems to classify it as almost a whole new genre unless it just fits into the very general genre of Satire. That being said, Mumbo Jumbo is a satire down to the smallest details like spelling of words for instance. Humor is found in the caricature antagonists, the interspersing of scenes like Abdul’s desk, and wherever you look to be honest. The satire Reed uses is established as the norm from the start, so it isn’t jarring when reading, but more serves the purpose of highlighting those small details that, in a more serious novel may be glossed over entirely. The humor helps these deeper topics be noticed and easier to digest in some ways, which also lets Reed expound more on said topics. Mumbo Jumbo fits squarely in as a Satire in its style, however, I feel Mumbo Jumbo something more than just Satire, but I can’t place my finger on it. Any thoughts?   

The Allure of the Unknowing

Even though we’ve finished Ragtime and moved on to Mumbo Jumbo, I feel that we didn’t quite finish learning about everyone in the book. In fact, spoilers, most of our main cast just dies at the end and I still feel that some of them felt as alien as ever. We do get to learn more about Coalhouse and Tateh and Younger Brother and Mother, but did we really get to know them better? I feel as if Doctorow had a specific goal in mind when having certain characters that we feel like we know everything about and with characters we know next to nothing about. For the most part, the ones we tend to know about are the historical figures, and the ones we know near nothing about are the characters of the family and Coalhouse. A bit like history in a way. We think we know a person whose been put into a history book because the information is written down and widely accepted, but we really don't, we just know about everything records say about them. Who’s to say that Doctorow’s Evelyn Nesbit is falsified? Maybe she did fade out of the public eye to visit poorer districts and become an anonymous donor to Emma Goldman’s efforts. Maybe she did, maybe she didn’t, but regardless, we feel as if we know her because apparently her life is documented in the history books. However, we also know that most of the information we have on her is slanted because of the media and her public image at the time, so it’s almost if by default we don’t know her at all, we just know about her.

Building on this is the fact that the one person we think should have been put into the history books, Coalhouse Walker, isn’t in any recorded events. He is oddly lacking when it comes to information on him, and it stands out to us significantly more than the characters who Doctorow seems to know intimately. Despite this, he also feels the most like a realistic figure out of the cast. We sympathize with him often and seem to find more ways to understand him even though he is the character most veiled in mystery. All of the historical figures seem so removed from reality in their own way (ie. Ford is like a machine, Morgan feels transcended above the common folk, etc.). In reality, we really do learn the least about the family and Coalhouse, but we get to know them better than anyone else. In contrast, we learn the most about the historical figures and what their lives could have been like, but we know them the least. They still feel like some sort of legend instead of human beings, and it raises the question once again: Is there a difference between history and fiction?

Dwelling on Passive Remarks

          So we've finished a decent amount of Ragtime by E. L. Doctorow, and although we've read some seriously postmodern passages and shocking topics, Doctorow's writing style is still what intrigues me the most. Namely how with most introductions of characters, applying most recently to his characters of Henry Ford and J. P. Morgan. Doctorow opts to write with a more passive voice, applying heavy satire all the while. Personally I haven't read many books utilizing this sort of a style, yet it permeates the entirety of Ragtime in some way or another. Though the character introductions tend to have less striking descriptions of events or people in the passive voice, such as the description of the poverty balls or the child workers in earlier chapters for instance, the character introductions have this passive voice satire more consistently.
      
          Through the use of passive voice, everything must be taken with a grain of salt. Chapter 18, where we are introduced to Henry Ford, is a prime example of Doctorow's passive satire. It becomes so littered with satire that it's hard to tell what is and isn't meant to be satire. On one hand Doctorow says things like "Instead of having one man learn the hundreds of tasks in the building of one motorcar, walking him hither and yon to pick out the parts from a general inventory, why not stand him in his place, have him do just one task over and over, and let the parts come past him on moving belts. Thus the worker's mental capacity would not be taxed." and "He allotted sixty seconds on his pocket watch for a display of sentiment. Then he sent everyone back to work.", but also says calls him a genius without any other implications. Additionally, his allotment of a mere sixty seconds can be seen as admirable dedication to his work. The entire chapter is filled with these sorts of statements that are blatantly satirical, but also statements that can be read one way the first time, a different way a second time, and possibly even a third meaning the third time. It's quite perplexing to have a reading where, when you do a double-take, you pick up another understanding of the moment. The passive voice is a brilliant tool to make scenes like Ford's introduction seem just off enough for us to second guess ourselves and search for the meaning behind the satire. I'm personally bouncing back and forth ideas on what exactly Doctorow intended for the reader to interpret in this section (pre-meeting with J. P. Morgan) and how that fits into his meeting with Morgan.  Regardless, Doctorow's passive voice through the novel is an effective medium for the hypercritical satire he imposes constantly in my opinion. 

Change comes around (New Class!)

To all who might be following this blog after the roughly 6 month gap between posts, this blog is going to be used for the History as Fiction class posts until further notice.

Just a friendly PSA.

Have a good afternoon!

Home Alone

After some thought, and seeing just how Benji and Reggie's life is, I'm debating just how their home life affected them and if it was really a good or bad thing. Specifically, the fact that they are left alone all week for nearly every week of the Summer. I'm on edge with whether or not them being home all alone is a good or bad thing considering their home life.

In general, Benji and Reggie seem to have their life in order alone during the week what with having their own jobs and being functional human beings. They seem to get along with the other kids in Sag Harbor and are establishing their own identities through emerging cultures. They also don't seem to mind not having their parents around for a variety of reasons. With this however, whatever lessons their parents gave them (however many or few that actually is) aren't enforced and they are left to figure out how to deal with life by themselves. Normally I'd say this can be acceptable for parenting, letting the children figure out life by themselves, but not to this extent. Without either parent at home for a significant period of time over the Summer, there isn't much opportunity to form better relations within the family and at certain periods, this really shows. Part of this disconnect can be based off of previous years, as Ben mentions later in the novel when the cookout is described, but I'd say that due to experiences like the cookout, moments like that every once in a while don't really chalk up to a functional family.

To me there really isn't a clear distinction to whether or not being left alone most of the Summer is a good or bad thing because each has valid reasons I think. Being left alone means that Benji and Reggie are able to determine their direction over the course of the Summer, be able to get a chance to be independent and self-sustaining, and get time away form what seems to be an abusive father. Being left alone also means that can't form an effective relationship with their parents over the course of the Summer which most likely would affect the time to come, have to artificially be of age and control their own life (debatable if this is a negative or positive), and have little positive parental influence. To Benji and Reggie, they're quite fine with being left to their own devices as Ben hardly mentions his parents until the chapter where it is explicitly about them. Maybe in the future Ben regrets this as he brings up the point of not knowing why they never defended their mother from their father, but at the time, they seemed content about having no parents around for the extended time that they were away.  

 

The Tale of a Wallet

                Serious moral dilemma time in the book. Aren’t moral dilemmas just so much fun?! More seriously though, I like to view situations like these from many angles, so having a whole chapter related to a moral dilemma of Jason’s was an interesting read. To preface all of this, I feel the need to state my final opinion on the subject because bias will show up. I agree with Jason giving the wallet back in the end, however I don’t agree with the reasons why Jason kept the wallet in the first place (the whole keeping because of complete spite). I just want to take a look at the scene in a way I read it and compare it to the rest of Jason’s decisions on a scale of sorts.

                Taking the side of moral high ground, I’ll take a bit of a look at the situation. Initially, Jason does take a moment to contemplate giving the wallet back, which in itself is a good choice. It kind of goes south after that when he keeps the wallet out of spite once he sees it belongs to Ross Wilcox. It just seems petty to keep it for that one reason only and retcon his decision to give the wallet the fair grounds owner. At that point it really is stealing rather than keeping until you find the right person to give it to. Shortly after, he enjoys seeing Ross in a state of panic where he starts to make plenty of mistakes. It just seems wrong to get that much joy from the suffering of someone (Personal note: I don’t fully enjoy Ross’ panic, but there is some satisfaction there). Once he’s told that that wallet actually has hundreds of pounds in it, he gets some sense back and realizes that stealing Ross’ wallet really is an issue, but he’s still not thoroughly convinced he should give it back. He has reasons to use the money, but the ones he mentions really aren't for any other purpose other than personal gain. What makes it worse is that he’s told the consequences to Ross when he doesn’t bring the money back, he likes it; he really feels that it would be one of the best things that could ever happen to him. After a quick talk with his own dad, Jason is hit by sense again and he decides to finally give the wallet back as is. Morally, he ended in the right place, but it was a bit rocky getting there. Not the most satisfying way to think about the scene for many people because the ending of the incident also kind of makes the revenge seem less so there. It’s there and Ross does end up with some karma for his actions, but losing his leg is pretty harsh don’t you think?

                Now a look at the rest of his story that we’ve gotten. I’d say this incident would actually fall somewhere in the middle of the spectrum. The fact he spent as much time as he did between either giving the wallet back and keeping it is really what makes me put it there. I don’t blame him for wanting revenge and to be honest, the opportunity wasn’t that bad, but I just don’t agree with the amount of time he spent debating it. In the end though, the decision seems thoroughly Jason in that he does give it back but before then, a massive amount of thought that went into it. Can’t help but notice the logical Julia make a very visible impact on his thoughts and life.

Your Bridges are Burning Down

To say the least, the last two chapters of "Housekeeping" really threw some important events at us, whether they were expected or not. Ruth running away with Sylvie, being presumed dead, leaving all behind and moving on a truly transient lifestyle as well as finally cutting off all ties with Lucille. What really struck me though was in chapter 11 with the burning of possessions and the house before leaving Fingerbone for good. It's mentioned that they do it because the things they would be leaving behind were personal and either weren't good for anything when they were gone (they were sentimental things) or they just couldn't let others have them. Afterwords, they were forced to cross the bridge in order to leave Fingerbone without anyone finding them. Taking the visible parts of both of the acts, you get burning possessions and crossing a bridge, but in my mind, they both come together as one thing: "burning bridges".

They literally didn't burn down the bridge (that would be a plot twist!), but in the metaphorical sense that they are eliminating all ties to something. With the house, they are burning all of their belongings, which included family sentiments and memorabilia. These are all reminders and ties to the past and to their life there, while the house itself is the anchor. By burning it all, they are effectively severing all ties with Fingerbone as a place. The house not actually ending up burning down is besides the point; it's the act that really counts. The second part of "burning the bridges" is the crossing of the bridge. By crossing the bridge, they go to a place where the inhabitants of Fingerbone will never go, leaving them behind. With this, Ruth and Sylvie cut all ties with the people of Fingerbone. Their supposed deaths only solidify this truth; to Fingerbone, Ruth and Sylvie are now ghosts, taken away by the lake never to be found again like many before them. At this point Fingerbone has no more ties with Ruth and Sylvie apart from it being a place where they had once been, all bridges burned down now free to do whatever they want.

 (Side note, couldn't help but think these lyrics fit the post and moment perfectly, so here they are)

"Gather in the ashes (Your bridges are burning down)
Everything thrown away (They're all coming down)
Gather in the ashes(It's all coming round)

Scatter as they blow away" 

- Foo Fighters, "Bridge Burning"      

Beneath the Bell Jar

I’ve been noticing lots of people writing about Esther and her views as being trapped under a bell jar and I decided to throw in some things I've noticed as well. In post, after reading Esther’s feelings of her depressed state and feeling trapped beneath a bell jar, some of her interactions and descriptions make more sense. For starters, in class we talked about how Esther’s descriptions of other characters seem more like caricatures than reliable, realistic descriptions.

This could be a side effect of Esther looking at the outside world as if she were looking though a bell jar as they are made of glass and when looking through glass (especially curved glass) features of things on the other side get distorted and exaggerated which is exactly what happens to Esther’s caricature descriptions of other people. Doreen has a massive puffball head of hair as her defining physical characteristic, Dr. Gordon has his smile, and Dodo looks like two eggs stacked to Esther to give a few examples. This also extends to their personalities, but given Esther’s state it can be more difficult to tell just how true those are but for the most part they just seem exaggerated but true.

Esther also had some memorable interactions with this sort of distortion or at least the “observer/observed” dynamic that goes along with the concept of a bell jar. With bell jars normally being used in scientific fields for observation and killing, the concept fit extremely well. The tour of Yale with Buddy can be seen as an observation sort of interaction where Esther was observing, with the placid and critical eyes at the moment, the medical facilities. She was unfazed by the cadaver, babies in jars, and the facility itself and the only thing that tripped up that view was the birth. On the more grim side, Esther’s attempts at suicide could be seen as the “killing of the specimen” aspect of bell jars as she is trying to kill herself beneath the bell jar of her life. Of course it can’t be ruled out that Esther herself is being observed, literally, by doctors when she is being treated by both Dr. Gordon and Dr. Nolan. This makes the observation aspect of the bell jar go both ways and creates an interesting dynamic where Esther views the world from inside the glass and describes it to the reader and the outside observers seem like monsters, not understanding or caring explicitly what happens to the specimen (not applicable to all characters). Esther’s mother, as one of the observers, can’t quite grasp the totality of Esther’s situation and therefore thinks that when the bell jar is lifted from Esther’s life, she can return to it like nothing has happened. For Esther, that’s impossible, she’s experienced the feeling of being trapped and watched as well as the freedom on the outside, being able to also observe herself now that she is not in the midst of the bell jar. The stark contrast of the environments creates a memory for Esther that can never be forgotten. 

Holden's Coming of Age Conundrum

               Now that we’ve finished Catcher in the Rye, I my doubts on whether or not the “Coming of Age” part of the novel applies to Holden at all. As the book begins, Holden is reflecting back on a few days around Christmas time last year saying something crazy happened during that time. To me, that gives the sense that Holden went through something that was so momentous he can describe each day in detail to us readers. We all know he did go through some serious stuff, but he came out from those experiences pretty much as the same Holden Caulfield as the Holden who entered them. Every time someone tried to talk to him about being a part of the world and getting his life together he just shrugged off the thought of submitting to a phony world as he would put it. Mr. Spencer, Mr. Antolini, and even Phoebe were unable to make a change in him big enough for him to turn his life in another direction. I realize this is not the definition of coming of age (nobody really knows), but for Holden, I feel his coming of age would be when he finally decides to either try things in the world or just go and be secluded like he mentioned. He does neither of these. With all of that in mind, how then does this book count as a coming of age novel? Simple: the concept of coming of age.

                All of the talks given to Holden about his life and future are, in whole, conversations about coming of age. “What will you do when you grow up?” “Who do you want to be?” “Pull yourself together!” All of these are quintessential questions and statements of defining what it means when you come of age (ie what will it look like when you come of age?). Along these lines, Holden has an admiration for children and their simple and happy lives. When he’s near Phoebe for instance, he is quite content that she doesn’t need to worry about the real world yet. He’s happy she has yet to come of age. His metaphor for being a catcher in the rye fields saving kids from falling off a cliff is extremely vague, but I choose to see it as Holden saving the children from adulthood and thus coming of age because of his fascination with children and hatred of the phony adult world.  

Spiritual Rise, Worldly Fall

            Even though we briefly brought the topic up a week ago or so, the idea that Stephen seems to revert, in a way, to childhood again after becoming a devout Catholic intrigues me. It seems mildly ironic in a sense, that Stephen makes a decision of his own (which was a sign of him growing and becoming independent) to become the most devout Catholic the world has ever seen. In every sense, the decision Stephen made was one of spiritual growth. However, as he became more of a spiritual man, he seemed to lose his grip on the world around him, almost as if he forgets some of his worldly wisdom. He doesn’t care about his surroundings and what sort of beauty he can find in it as much as he used to. In addition, his language becomes simpler and he doesn’t go off on the trademark tangents that Stephen was so fond of making. In fact, it is very reminiscent of Stephen’s mind as a child at Clongowes.

            At Clongowes, Stephen was an innocent, simpler minded version of himself. He was very focused on doing whatever the “right thing” was, even though he might not know exactly why it was the right thing. A sort of faith in his decisions that they were the correct thing to do. It is almost exactly the same sort of behavior that Stephen exhibits when he decides to embrace Catholicism. A core aspect of Christianity in general is faith, the ability to trust in something you can’t see and don’t necessarily understand. Normally, this is trusting that God will get you out of a situation or put you in one, all you need to do is the “right thing”. Rarely is that even close to obvious, and oddly enough, Stephen’s younger self had just about as much knowledge on what the “right thing” or “right answer” was as any sort of faith decision: little to no clue. Also, possibly a coincidence, but the few times Stephen mentions that he knows the “right answer” as a child, he said he knew that because of his father and quite often God is referred to as Father and humans as the children. Aside from a faith in actions comparison, Stephen as a devout Catholic makes the conscious effort to be as pure and correct a person as he can be, which younger Stephen can easily be seen as a very innocent and mostly pure child. In the end, it’s almost as if Stephen has not only reverted to his younger self, but also fully embraced some of the aspects of his life that he intentionally threw away, like his innocence. Progress spiritually actually appeared to set back Stephen from maturing more in a worldly sense.         

Coming of Age in a (Personal) Nutshell

                Even though we had the discussion of what it really mean to “come of age” and what Coming-of-Age means, the whole concept has been taking up my thoughts since. Many ideas came up when the class talked about it, mostly revolving around the notion that when someone “comes of age”, it’s ultimately their thoughts of what it means to come of age that determines when they come of age. While I agree with most of this, I also think that to “come of age” personally is different than “coming of age” in a sense that the rest of the world would realize. For instance, if a child (say they are about 8 or so) decides they have grown up and feel like they have past the point in life where they consider they’ve “come of age”, would literally anyone else in the world see that as well? I mean, they’re 8 years old! Point being, if anyone older came along, the most likely outcome of the child saying they’ve “come of age” is disbelief and the pity of the older person who knows the child hasn’t even begun to experience what the real world is like. This isn’t to say that traumatic events, being forced to be older than you are (i.e. managing siblings for parents because it is physically impossible for them to), or life experiences couldn’t push the threshold closer, but in most cases you have much more to live though before I think you could consider yourself to “come of age”.

                In all, as much as I feel that “coming of age” is determined by your own notions of what it means and when in time you feel it applies, I feel that whatever society you belong to also influences this event. For instance, even though the ages of 13, 16, 18, and 21 are arbitrary, society has given those ages some sort of importance. The age 13 is really just a time where the suffix of the number associated changes to –teen, thus making the teenage years. It can be seen as some step closer to adulthood. 16 has, for whatever reason in the United States, been determined to be the time where you are able to get your driver’s license which is seen as a rite of passage. Similarly, 18 is also an age that is seen as a rite of passage towards adulthood. If you think about it, most people consider 21 to be the age at which you become an adult.

                In the end, I feel that “coming of age” is never a set time, but rather a series of events. Not exactly a set series of events, but something that is really influential. Also, even though I’ve just said that you determine when you come of age, with how ingrained those ages and their meanings I mention before, I am quite certain that those also have a sort of determining factor that perhaps you use to measure your coming of age or perhaps others inside your life do.