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Post by carolinedorman on Dec 25, 2013 3:26:17 GMT
I am a huge fan of mystery novels. I love all the subtle clues along the way that can be used to predict the outcome. If the resolution of a mystery novel is too obvious, however, it doesn’t make a great story. I don’t want to read a piece of literature that lays out the entirety of its substance in the first few pages or first act. I agree with Fiona that I don’t think A Doll’s House will be a simple story that will end with the moral “don’t lie”. Unlike a bad mystery novel, I want to keep reading farther even though the use of dramatic irony highlights what is about to happen. Ibsen writes, “Just think how a guilty man like that has to lie and play the hypocrite with every one, how he has to wear a mask in the presence of those near and dear to him, even before his own wife and children”(Ibsen 8). I am intrigued to explore the effects of Nora’s mask. Although the use of dramatic irony directly exposes the conflict of the play, I don’t think its contrivance takes away from the work as a whole.
I do not think, however, that you (Mr. Parris) should be more willing to suspend your disbelief. You had a valid reader response grounded from the text. It is legitimate that you groan when presented with a contrived story that utilizes dramatic irony. If this, however, is all you get out of the story then I think the contrived nature of A Doll’s House is a problem. My question is, why do we still read Romeo and Juliet even though the end of the play is blatantly obvious?
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Post by sammywong on Dec 25, 2013 3:44:36 GMT
Gosh, I cannot stop thinking that the dialogue between Krogstad and Nora hits more than just the issue of money, but also the issue of Nora's home life. Nora's life is so perfect until one digs deeper than surface level. Krogstad does exactly that in this chuck of their secret chat.
Nora [walking up and down the stage]. Sometimes one has a tiny little bit of influence, I should hope. Because one is a woman, it does not necessarily follow that--. When anyone is in a subordinate position, Mr. Krogstad, they should really be careful to avoid offending anyone who--who-- Krogstad. Who has influence? Nora. Exactly. ... Krogstad: Very likely; but, to come to the point, the time has come when I should advise you to use your influence to prevent that. Nora: But, Mr. Krogstad, I have no influence.
I think Nora does a lot of self convincing in the story. She convinces herself that her husband doesn't want her to eat sweets so she doesn't get cavities for one thing...She convinces herself that she is actually mothering her children (yeah, no.) And she convinces herself that she possesses an amount of power in her household. But Nora really has no say in any aspect of her life. She is a doll in a dollhouse whether she likes it or not. In this respect, she is a lot like Odysseus, at first glance both characters seem strong and independent but ultimately they are powerless. As we discussed before, Odysseus's life is dictated by a higher being, the Greek gods control his fate. There is no indication that Gods are stringing "little Nora" along, but it does seem like the social expectations of her house and community act in the same regard, dictating her actions and as result, her outcome is easily foreshadowed.
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Post by gracepark on Dec 25, 2013 4:48:33 GMT
As much as I loved reading the first act, I couldn’t help but despise Nora’s character. She embodies my biggest pet peeve: an immature, child-like Barbie doll living notoriously though her doll house – so annoying. I’m praying that I won’t throw down the book the next time I read one of her “Pooh!” lines. But I digress. Henrik Ibsen’s play… is amazing. I actually think I love it because of the layers and layers of dramatic irony. As mentioned before me, Ibsen seems to use dramatic irony as something more significant than it actually is. There’s an important facet in the obvious foreshadowing images of the macaroons and Christmas tree decorations and the dramatic-irony-embodying characters. Ibsen’s arguable overuse of dramatic work, I think, ultimately works to build its imminent ripple effect that acts as a distinctive quality that separates itself from any other dramatic-irony-driven works. And I think that’s what makes “A Doll’s House” so intriguing – this deeper element hidden in the superficial face of a standard dramatic irony that will hopefully show its colors more clearly as the story progresses.
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Post by patricktbutenhoff on Dec 25, 2013 6:01:21 GMT
One of the problems with sorting literary works into genres is that it creates certain expectations with which we proceed to judge the literary work. This seems to be occurring here as well; one could definitely take the fact that the play is considered a realistic work and criticize it because it seems that, at times, the play is doing a terrible job being realistic. The largest example of this is the dramatic irony at the end of the first act. But I think we should be looking at A Doll's House based on not how well it fits into our perceived box of a "realistic drama" but on how well it functions as a play as a whole. And for that, we should, as Joel mentioned, look at how the irony contributes to the play, not how well it contributes to a sense of realism. Unrealistic elements in fiction aren't necessarily bad; virtually everything we've read this year has at least something that would create disbelief in a cynical reader. The key is whether these unrealistic elements have a positive effect on the work as a whole.
I'd have to say that the dramatic irony at the end of Act I is useful looking at the play as a whole. The central conflict in the play centers around Nora and her internal struggle between being upfront with her husband and maintaining her secret. The problem is how to make her realize both sides of the story. She needs to address her conscience on the issue of her forgery, but at the start of the play, Nora has almost no conscience of her own. Everything--her thoughts, actions, and money--belongs to her husband. To have Nora, at this point in her life, consider such a complicated issue all by herself seems almost as unrealistic as her "convenient" conversation about "Krogstad." Helmer acts as a symbol of justice; throughout the play, he is the only character with strong, well-defined morals who sticks to them. His beliefs and his actions regarding frugality ("There's always something inhibited, something unpleasant, about a home built on credit and borrowed money" (1682)), the relation between husband and wife ("If it ever got around that the new manager had been talked over by his wife" (1706)), and hard work ("I have to work on it over the Christmas week. I want everything straight by the New Year" (1700)) are very ideologically consistent, even though the morals themselves may be dubious. Because of his immense power and emphasis on morals, Helmer acts as a conscience for Nora over the first part of the play. As a result, to have this emotional conflict, Nora has to be confronted by Helmer about her lie--just without him knowing about it. Therefore, despite its lack of realism (my first instinct was to laugh), the dramatic irony in A Doll's House is very effective in the context of the play. It catalyzes Nora's internal conflict by forcing her to encounter the true complexity of her problem.
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Post by Anna M. on Dec 25, 2013 6:25:46 GMT
In real life, if someone came up to me and said, "People who hide chocolates under their bed are going to end up sad and alone someday," I would assume that this person already knew that I was hiding a box of Godiva truffles under my bed. Torvald's and Nora's conversation seemed to very unsubtly work dramatic irony into the play. Since they are talking about Krogstad, why does Torvald need to mention how poisonous a lying mother is? At first I considered the idea that Torvald might already know about Nora's secret, but based on the prompt and the response of many others, it is just a very, very obvious use of dramatic irony. I am not opposed to the dramatic irony, I like the being able to relate to the stomach drop that Nora feels when Torvald says, "Practically all juvenile delinquents come from homes where the mother is dishonest" (1701). How can your stomach not drop?
In response to Caroline, I think we keep reading stories that we can predict the end to for many reasons. 1) We like the satisfaction of being correct. 2) How the characters get to the end is really important to our response, in my opinion. 3) Knowing how a story ends can be comforting-- if we know Romeo and Juliet are going to die in the end, we won't be AS devastated when it actually happens (of course, we will still be devastated). 4) I'm sure there are other reasons but It's Christmas Eve and the list could go on and on.
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Post by madisonarmst on Dec 25, 2013 6:34:08 GMT
I disagree that Nora needs to look examine her moral feelings regarding forgery. Her feelings about forgery are irrelevant to her because she has justified the act—for herself—by saying that she only did it to help others. She is only now realizing that her actions may have negative consequences, not only for herself, but for others as well. The saddest—and most intriguing—part of this story is that she cannot fully understand how her actions will impact others. She does not understand that her husband will likely lose his job if she is caught (as alluded to by her continuously mentioning their new and improved financial situation) and her kids could end up becoming juvenile delinquents because of her dishonest nature (seems like a bit of a stretch...). Nora is fully aware that she has done something wrong, she just did not realize that it would be a big deal. She thought she could so easily get away with it, but she overlooked a few key details.
The dramatic irony in Act I relies on Nora's lies and the idea that the audience knows the truth, but her husband and the other characters have no idea what is going on. Each of the characters is stuck in their own individual reality, but what they do not know is that it is all going to come crashing down in time. I understand why you would roll your eyes at the irony, because it seems so obvious. But for me, knowing roughly what is going to happen makes it all the more intriguing to keep reading. As Caroline was saying, why do we continue to read Romeo and Juliet if we know what is going to happen? It's not the ending we are anticipating. From the first few pages of the story, we know what is going to happen, but we do not know how it is going to happen, which is where all the beauty comes in. The ending is irrelevant because its so predictable, but I am interested to see how Nora transitions from living a carefree life to "falling" to rockbottom.
Merry Christmas!
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Post by coreybrown on Dec 25, 2013 6:36:56 GMT
While I'm thoroughly enjoying the story, it's definitely trying my patience. Every time I think I've seen a new side of Nora, something arrives to spoil it. Initially, I hated the plasticity and antiquated nature of the scene (oh wait, it's called "A Doll's House" hmmm... [sub-parenthetic comment: please note that I am not restricting the play's title to this particular aspect of the play as I do believe and can see it in many more aspects of the text]) and the family irked me. As the play progressed, however, it was clear that something was amiss. When it turned out to have something to do with Nora, I was ecstatic. Her character would finally become more than the "squirrel" she'd been introduced as. And that was all find and dandy, the story had me hooked, but then Krogstad comes back along. Her complex act of kindness and cunning had come back to bite her with the new twist, the forgery. But alas, the poor "song-bird" was once again caught in the traps of the other characters. But, for a brief moment, Nora was a stronger character. I only hope that she gets the chance to regain that strength.
As for the really obvious dramatic irony...well... I'm not sure. But I must say, it made me smile a bit when Helmer proclaimed: "Practically all juvenile delinquents come from homes where the mother is dishonest.... It's generally traceable to the mothers, but of course fathers can have the same influence..." (1701). There's that wonderful moment where, though Torvald thinks the conversation is about Krogstad, we all know that it's really about the Helmers. It would have been enough to just claim that lies and deceit are bad in a home (when referring to Krogstad), but to mention that it is often the mothers just pushes it over the top. The irony is painful, but not entirely in a bad way. I think, in this case, that it's perfect for the story. And, if you can tolerate it as a reader, adds some humor while simultaneously putting us in the same position as Nora so that we as readers can truly understand the pressures she's under and the conflict that's sure to follow for the rest of the play.
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Post by avinash on Dec 25, 2013 6:56:43 GMT
I felt that the dramatic irony of this story really got in the way of my enjoyment. I finally decided this when Torvald said, “Practically all juvenile delinquents come from homes where the mother is dishonest.” Torvald and Nora had been talking about Krogstad’s dishonesty. Krogstad is obviously a man (and can’t be a mother), so there was no pertinent reason for Torvald to mention that statement regarding mothers.
In this story I was hoping that Nora would come clean to Torvald and tell him all of her secrets. I sympathized with Nora and felt this route would lead to the least negative outcome. This option is basically no longer plausible now that Torvald has badmouthed liars in such a blatant fashion. Here lies my problem with dramatic irony: the plot becomes too one-dimensional. Essentially, a lot of possible outcomes are no longer possible because they do not fit in with the ironic comments made by certain characters. As a reader I don’t want to there to be a limited number of possibilities.
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Post by yongkim on Dec 25, 2013 7:47:18 GMT
Nora is constantly pampered and overindulged in Torvald's love. In the beginning of the play, Torvald clearly states, "Nora, Nora!... No debts! Never borrow! There's always something inhibited, something unpleasant..." (Ibsen 1682). Due to Nora's lack of maturity and ability to comprehend her husband's words, I could not stand her. Her husband clearly told her one of his pet peeves, but it seemed as if she did not even bother to hear what he had to say. However, my mind begins to change as the story progresses. A lot of you said you could not bear this doll-like woman living in her "barbie" world. I could not have agreed more until she realizes her debt was a misfortune. Although it is difficult to sympathize with the spoiled Nora when she is blackmailed by Krogstad, the backfire of attempting to aid someone with the best intentions is all too familiar. This reminds me of the situation when a friend gives extra attention or care to someone because he or she has a physical or mental limitation. Even though the friend who is helping feels good inside for trying to be a better person, in reality the friend is "injuring" the other individual more by giving him/her special care. I can empathize with Nora when she says, "I don't believe it. Isn't a daughter entitled to try and save her father from worry and anxiety on his deathbed? Isn't a wife entitled to save her husband's life?" (Ibsen 1699). One of the greatest pains in life is thinking you are positively contributing to someone or something when you are actually doing more damage.
I understand why this story deserves the groans due to its dramatic irony. It's that "not again" groan that naturally comes out when we can foresee literature's redundancy. However, I wouldn't define this as Mr. Parris's problem. I agree with Keely in that Mr. Parris does have more experience and exposure to this type of literature, which results in a deeper groan. Personally, I love dramatic irony in that the author empowers the audience. We are given information that a character in the play is oblivious to; thus, we feel more a part of the story.
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Post by samwerner on Dec 25, 2013 7:53:27 GMT
The contrivance in the play that is consistently nabbing at Mr. Parris' nerves has more depth than it is credited with. Whether or not Parris should suspend his belief is entirely subjective, but placing myself in his shoes makes me want to answer in affirmation. As Matt astutely pointed out, it would be easy to jump to the conclusion that the dramatic irony is overused and overdramatic—an obvious and predictable attempt to hook the audience that does quite the opposite. However, Nora's character, fickle, troubled and rash in her decisions, was well-developed in the first act. Even if I agreed with Parris that the dramatic irony was slightly overdone, Nora's character captivated me. She is undoubtedly the most complex character, and because of the fact that all the literature we have previously read in this class has contained depth in terms of plot and characters, I suspect that giving Nora a chance to continue her development and ignoring the contrivance a bit longer may well pay off. Foreshadowing has played its role early and concretely in this play thus far, but despite a predictable ending many of us believe will occur, I am excited to read on and see how much farther Nora is able to develop.
We constantly look for resonance within the text, but even if that search wields mere "groans," as it may have done for Parris, it still holds worth. The things we as readers take away from the text is purely subjective, and our collective groans, although reasonable, may not be in vain. The dramatic irony that foreshadows an expected event is just that, expected. What the text holds between the groans and the event should always leave us suspending our disbelief. Also, a reading experience filled with groans may hold as much power as one filled with tears or laughter. Either way, the response is what matters. This play hasn't left me moaning and groaning, but other things we've read this year have. I have found that suspending my feelings until clarifying the conclusion and theme of the text is rewarding and worthwhile, and I won't write "A Doll's House" off just yet.
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Post by abbylyons on Dec 25, 2013 7:57:38 GMT
Before I answer the question directly, I’d like to go back and take a look at “Happy Endings.” We hear multiple stories about the same two people, and they all end the same way: John and Mary die. John and Mary die. John and Mary die. It doesn’t matter when or where they die, or what their names actually are: ultimately, they’re still dead. All human lives have the same framework: it begins with birth, continues as the person matures and becomes an adult, and eventually ends in death. What really matters is what John and Mary do with their lives. Were they active members of their communities? Were they generous and loving people? Did they ultimately benefit society or make it worse? The answers to those questions are the variables in human lives.
In the same way, all tragedies have a common set of traits. The main character starts out as a respectable person but is eventually reduced to death (or a fate worse than death, like Oedipus). The not-so-subtle foreshadowing Mr. Parris mentioned is another one of these traits. It’s present in Macbeth, Oedipus, Romeo and Juliet, The Titanic, and so many other tragedies. Assuming the audience has read or seen a tragedy or two before, they will immediately identify A Doll’s House as a tragedy. Obvious foreshadowing isn’t so much a problem as it is a necessary, albeit annoying, component of effective tragedy. When watching (or reading) A Doll's House, the audience must know that Nora will suffer; it allows them to focus less on the plot and more on important things like drawing meaning from the work and applying it to their own lives.
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Post by kevinle on Dec 25, 2013 19:27:45 GMT
Hooray, it's no longer Christmas Eve... Hooray for being the first to break that 12:00 am barrier.
I agree with Abby's notion on how all tragedies share common traits, and how one could predict the course of a plot by understanding the structure of dramatic irony and tragedy. The sense of contrivance comes down to both the person and the nature of the literature. The literature of this genre falls within an archetype, so there will be great similarities between the plots. I understand how one can start to see many texts as contrived. On the other hand, the sense of contrivance lies with the expectations of the reader. If one expects a story to follow the archetype and only looks at how predictable the story is, he or she will see only the artificiality of the plot. The ways similar texts differ, however, lies within the ability for the reader to connect with the story. Like Aristotle said, tragedy is all about the catharsis. That catharsis is the difference between each reader; nobody experiences the same feelings. Those differences are what bring genuine aspects to similar pieces of texts.
For example, Oedipus the King and A Doll's House share many qualities, such as the power dynamics and the fact that the lower characters hold secrets about the powerful characters. Yet, I cannot relate to Oedipus well, because the setting and the events are well, not very similar to those of my life. On the other hand, the plot of A Doll's House is realistic. Everyone can relate to the spending and saving of money, the care of family members, doing secret favors for each other...this is why Oedipus the King felt artificial in its predictability and why A Doll's House felt genuine, despite its predictability.
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alice
New Member
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Post by alice on Dec 26, 2013 0:14:14 GMT
I get kind of psyched when dramatic irony comes into play because not only do you see a power shift in the story but also the power shifts to the reader. Even when it's obvious and sort of...invasive I get very like "OH SNAP LOOK WHAT DAT DID SON STUFF'S HAPPENIN' NOW!". I feel that the dramatic irony allows the reader to feel empathy for the character who does not know their own probably fate while the reader knows it all too well. But that's just me. This part delves into reader response territory so it's different for other people... Also since this is only act 1 there are many ways we could see this go. Many people here have discussed Torvald knowing about Nora's lying but there are many other possibilities as well as is true with any still continuing story but I'm trying not to let my imagination run away with me.
As far as the Oedipus relations go I was definitely aware of her passionate (not THAT kind of passionate) relations with both her father and her children. Like Oedipus, Nora deeply loves her children and truly wants the best for them. Her relationship with her father though is strong but like Oedipus' her father's death will affect her life in a stronger and more distinct way than simply their father's dying. Also (this is a bit more of a stretch) but both Nora and Oedipus depend on their father's lives or loss of them to keep someone else's going (Nora needed her dad to sign the paper but oops shhh he dead while Oedipus needed to kill his dad to complete his own prophecy).
Will we ever hear of Nora's mother?
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Post by billfeng on Dec 26, 2013 0:35:59 GMT
As Kevin noted, Merry Christmas! :-) Yes, I feel feel that the dialogue of the story was somewhat vapid and eye-rolling. On the other hand, I think we should appreciate how technical Ibsen was in crafting this story. I really like how the three act system of the story plays out in a similar fashion to "Oedipus Rex". In the first act, we see a static relationship between the Helmers that, on the surface, looks relatively stable and somewhat happy. The act only slightly introduces the central conflict of the story: Krogstad's threat to reveal Nora's forgery. The second act introduces the crumbling of this superficial relationship as Nora's anxiety over Krogstad's threat rises. The third act is where the Helmer marriage collapses and Nora, with irreconcilable differences, leaves Torvald. I found this three-act structure to be a homage to the dramatic structure of Greek tragedy. In both "Oedipus" and "Doll's House", the main character watches as his/her entire livelihood crumbles due to his/her own actions. For both plots, the tragic incident of the main character is a result of hamartia (human action, not fate). Oedipus unknowingly fulfills his fate by killing his father and sleeping with his Mother. Nora forges her father's signature to take out a secret loan which eventually leads to the end of her marriage. Though Oedipus and Nora diverge upon unintentional and intentional action, Aristotle notes in Poetics that the ethos of a tragedy is driven by human cause. Another aspect Aristotle constitutes that is part of any good, Greek play is opsis or spectacle. Both Ibsen and Sophocles use large amounts of opsis to intensify the dramatic atmosphere of their plays. This aspect refers to the observable imagery and scenery that supplements the work. Ibsen utilizes the Christmas Tree prop as a symbol of the crumbling marriage. In the first act, the tree is newly purchased and freshly orientated into the house. The tree is later "stripped, bedraggled and with its candles burnt out" (Ibsen 1702) in Act Two to foreshadow instability in the Helmer household. Another component of the "Doll's House" opsis is the homely feel of the stage (as depicted on page 1681). When Torvald questions Nora's happiness in Act 3, she states, "... You've always been so kind to me. But our house has never been anything but a play-room" (Ibsen 1730). The picturesque environment of the stage direction directly alludes to the image that the Helmer household is nothing more than a "doll house". This spectacle, for the viewer, is just as powerful as the dual-use of bloody drippings from Oedipus's eye sockets in Sophocles' play (tears of pain!). I agree with Aristotle on the notion that if the visual component of these two plays (which I pictured) were to be removed, the viewer would be deprived of the deeper, tragic meaning. All in all, I think Ibsen's work is more of transitional work from classical Greek to modern play structure than an explicit pioneer of the modern play. On the other hand, I can't discredit Ibsen's implementation of realism into the plot. Unlike most tragedies from the Greek era up to the 19th century, "A Doll's House" is entirely removed from any mythological or religious backbone. Ibsen does this to remove the concept of fate. Instead, he places the fault of the tragedy entirely upon the shoulders of humanity. I am also surprised just how liberal Ibsen was for someone who published this work in 1879. He bravely demonstrates lack of traditional gender roles, relative female freedom, and the downfall of marriage within a work that would probably be deemed "societal sacrilege" by his contemporaries. As for whether or not Mr. Parris should suspend his disbelief of Ibsen's obvious use of dramatic irony, I don't think this should even be necessarily questioned. As for Oedipus, viewers should see "A Doll's House" as a literary work rather than some sort of bio-pic. I think people eye-rolling for a "Doll's House" mostly in part to it's genre label: "Realistic Drama". The same explicit instances of dramatic irony in Oedipus certainly do not receive this same treatment. Ibsen's work should be taken at an intellectual scale rather than a this-better-be-as-realistic-as-possible-or-it-sucks scale.
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Post by emwolfram on Dec 26, 2013 4:34:45 GMT
Nora is an complicated character because she appears to be so vapid and silly and yet be feel sympathy for her. Nora is in many ways an unlikable character because she does not stand up for herself. Yet as she plays the part of the silly obedient little housewife she is also harboring a great secret. She has broken the law and deceived her husband. This is what creates her characters depth and makes it a little more bearable for me to read. I have to shout out to Anna for her point about Torvald possibly already knowing Nora's secret. That is what I originally thought after there unsubtle exchange at the end of the play. The dramatic irony at that point was certainly groan worthy. There hits a point where the entire dialogue feels like building irony and the story is almost comically unfortunate. Although admits our groans it is important to recognize that some stories are fueled by their straightforward nature. There is value in the extensive foreshadowing because it creates a downward spiral of misfortune that the reader can clearly follow and understand. We all can clearly see the rising problems and the building strain of Nora's secret.
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