LITERARY CRITICISM ASSIGNMENT-1

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Submitted by:

Avantika Gupta – 2011A7PS012G

Smriti Gambhir – 2011A7PS045G

Anirudh Ravichandran- 2011B4A3556G

Shaik Asifullah – 2011A7PS084G

Avva Hemanth- 2011A3PS168G

Snehal Jain- 2011A1PS037GSumedh Kaulgud- 2011A3PS124G

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TEXT FOR PSYCHOANALYSIS:

THE THIRD LEVEL BY

JACK FINNEY

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THE THIRD LEVEL The presidents of the New York Central and the New York, New Haven and Hartford railroads will swear on a stack of timetables that there are only two. But I say there are three, because I've been on the third level at Grand Central Station. Yes, I've taken the obvious step: I talked to a psychiatrist friend of mine, among others. I told him about the third level at Grand Central Station, and he said it was a waking-dream wish fulfillment. He said I was unhappy. That made my wife kind of mad, but he explained that he meant the modern world is full of insecurity, fear, war, worry, and all the rest of it, and that I just want to escape. Well, hell, who doesn't? Everybody I know wants to escape, but they don't wander down into any third level at Grand Central Station.

But that's the reason, he said, and my friends all agreed. Everything points to it, they claimed. My stamp collecting, for example--that's a "temporary refuge from reality." Well, maybe, but my grandfather didn't need any refuge from reality; things were pretty nice and peaceful in his day, from all I hear, and he started my collection. It's a nice collection, too, blocks of four of practically every U.S. issue, first-day covers, and so on. President Roosevelt collected stamps, too, you know.

Any way, here's what happened at Grand Central. One night last summer I worked late at the office. I was in a hurry to get uptown to my apartment, so I decided to subway from Grand Central because it's faster than the bus.

Now, I don't know why this should have happened to me. I'm just an ordinary guy named Charley, thirty-one years old, and I was wearing a tan gabardine suit and a straw hat with a fancy band--I passed a dozen men who looked just like me. And I wasn't trying to escape from anything; I just wanted to get home to Louisa, my wife.

I turned into Grand Central form Vanderbilt Avenue and went down the steps to the first level, where you take trains like the Twentieth Century. Then I walked down another flight to the second level, where the suburban trains leave from, ducked into an arched doorway heading for the subway--and got lost. That's easy to do. I've been in and out of Grand Central hundreds of times, but I'm always bumping into new doorways and stairs and corridors. Once I got into a tunnel about a mile long and came out in the lobby of the Roosevelt Hotel. Another time I came up in an office building on Forty-sixth Street, three blocks away.

Sometimes I think Grand Central is growing like a tree, pushing out new corridors and staircases like roots. There's probably a long tunnel that nobody knows about feeling its way under the city right now, on its way to Times Square, and maybe another to Central Park. And maybe--because for so many people through the years Grand Central has been an exit, a way of escape--maybe that's how the tunnel I got into . . . but I never told my psychiatrist friend about that idea.

The corridor I was in began angling left and slanting downward and I thought that was wrong, but I kept on walking. All I could hear was the empty sound of my own footsteps and I didn't pass a soul. Then I heard that sort of hollow roar ahead that means open space, and people talking. Then tunnel turned sharp left; I went down a short flight of stairs and came out on the third level at Grand Central Station. For just a moment I thought I was back on the second level, but I saw the room was smaller, there were fewer ticket windows and train gates, and the information booth in the center was wood and old-looking. And the man in the booth wore a green eyeshade and long black sleeve-protectors. The lights were dim and sort of flickering. Then I saw why: they were open-flame gaslights.

There were brass spittoons on the floor, and across the station a glint of light caught my eye: a man was pulling a gold watch from his vest pocket. He snapped open the cover, glanced at his watch, and frowned. He wore a dirty hat, a black

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four-button suit with tiny lapels, and he had a big, black, handle-bar mustache. Then I looked around and saw that everyone in the station was dressed like 1890 something; I never saw so many beards, sideburns and fancy mustaches in my life. A woman walked in through the train gate; she wore a dress with leg-of-mutton sleeves and skirts to the top of her high-buttoned shoes. Back of her, out on the tracks, I caught a glimpse of a locomotive, a very small Currier & Ives locomotive with a funnel-shaped stack. And then I knew.

To make sure, I walked over to a newsboy and glanced at the stack of papers at his feet. It was the World; and the World hasn't been published for years. The lead story said something about President Cleveland. I've found that front page since, in the Public Library files, and it was printed June 11, 1894.

I turned toward the ticket windows knowing that here--on the third level at Grand Central--I could buy tickets that would take Louisa and me anywhere in the United States we wanted to go. In the year 1894. And I wanted two tickets to Galesburg, Illinois.

Have you ever been there? It's a wonderful town still, with big old farm houses, huge lawns, and tremendous trees whose branches meet overhead and roof the streets. And in 1894, summer evenings were twice as long, and people sat out on their lawns, the men smoking cigars and talking quietly, the women waving palm-leaf fans, with the fireflies all around, in a peaceful world. To be back there with the First World War still twenty years off, and World War II over forty years in the future . . . I wanted two tickets for that.

The clerk figured the fare--he glanced at my fancy hatband, but he figured the fare--and I had enough for two coach tickets, one way. But when I counted out the money and looked up, the clerk was staring at me. He nodded at the bills. "That ain't money, mister," he said, "and if you're trying to skin me you won't get very far," and he glanced at the cash drawer beside him. Of course the money was old-style bills, half again as big as the money we use nowadays, and different-looking. I turned away and got out fast. There's nothing nice about jail, even in 1894.

And that was that. I left the same way I came, I suppose. Next day, during lunch hour, I drew $300 out of the bank, nearly all we had, and bought old-style currency (that really worried my psychiatrist friend). You can buy old money at most any coin dealer's, but you have to pay a premium. My $300 bought less than $200 in old-style bills, but I didn't care; eggs were thirteen cents a dozen in 1894.

But I've never again found the corridor that leads to the third level at Grand Central Station, although I've tried often enough.

Louisa was pretty worried when I told her all this and didn't want me to look for the third level any more, and after a while I stopped; I went back to my stamps. But now we're both looking, every weekend, because now we have proof that the third level is still there. My friend Sam Weiner disappeared! Nobody knew where, but I sort of suspected because Sam's a city boy, and I used to tell him about Galesburg--I went to school there--and he always said he liked the sound of the place. And that's where he is, all right. In 1894.

Because one night, fussing with my stamp collection, I found--well, do you know what a first-day cover is? When a new stamp is issued, stamp collectors buy some and use them to mail envelopes to themselves on the very first day of sale; and the postmark proves the dates. The envelope is called a first-day cover. They're never opened; you just put blank paper in the envelope.

That night, among my oldest first-day covers, I found one that shouldn't have been there. But there it was. It was there because someone had mailed it to my grandfather at his home in Galesburg; that's what the address on the envelope said. And it had been there since July 1894--the postmark showed that--yet I didn't remember it at all. The stamp was a six-cent, dull brown, with a picture of President Garfield. Naturally, when the envelope came to Granddad in the mail, it went right into his collection and stayed there--till I took it out and opened it.

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The paper inside wasn't blank. it read:

941 Willard Street

Galesburg, Illinois

July 18, 1894

Charley:

I got to wishing that you were right. Then I got to believing you were right. And, Charley, it's true: I found the third level! I've been here two weeks, and right now, down the street at the Daly's, someone is playing a piano, and they're all out on the front porch singing Seeing Nellie Home. And I'm invited over for lemonade. Come on back, Charley and Louisa. Keep looking till you find the third level. It's worth it, believe me!

The note is signed Sam.

At the stamp and coin store I go to, I found out that Sam bought $800 worth of old style currency. That ought to set him up in a nice little hay, feed, and grain business; he always said that's what he really wished he could do, and he certainly can't go back to his old business. Not in Galesburg, Illinois, in 1894. His old business? Why, Sam was my psychiatrist.

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PSYCHOANALYTICAL CRITICISM OF “THE THIRD LEVEL” BY JACK FINNEY

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Jack Finney’s “The Third Level” gives an insight to the shadowy half of the world which lies somewhere between dreams and reality.

BACKGROUND :

In the 1950s, people were scared. Panic and chaos were prevalent. The world had already seen two World Wars and the Cold War was heating up. This is when Jack Finney came up with his book which is a collection of short stories on escapism and time travel. “The Third Level” is a short story from this book.

SUMMARY:

Set in New York, the story is about a 31 year old man Charley who is mentally exhausted from the pressures of his job. Like any other day, he enters The Grand Central Station to board a train to head back home from work. Tired and lost , he takes a wrong turn somewhere in a long-isolated tunnel and enters the Third Level of the station . However there is no Third Level in reality. But Charley claims to have visited it . He even goes on to describe how it looked. The décor, the dressing and ambience belonged to an 1890s era. He felt transported to the world of his dreams. He goes to the newsboy to discover the papers dating back to 1894 thus assuring him the existence of the old scene. The repressed desire of going back to the times of simplicity and compassion overwhelms Charley and prompts him to buy train tickets for himself and his wife Louisa to Galesburg,Illinois. It’s a town where people enjoy the ordinary things in life. Charley fearing himself to be caught in the wreck of the World War, wants to go back to the land of peace. At the ticket window, he realises that he doesn’t have the old currency hence can’t buy the tickets. The sheer desperation of escaping the grim realities of the present drives him to exchange all of his money and savings for the old currency of lesser worth. But, this time he couldn’t find the route to the third level. His wife Louisa starts worrying about his mental state. To explain it to her and to the outside world,

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he brings a letter from his stamp collection, a hobby inherited by his grandfather. A blank envelope with just the stamp is called a first-day cover not meant to be opened. But the letter he brings, which shouldn’t have been there, wasn’t blank and bears a postmark of July 1894. The letter has a Galesburg address. Turns out Sam, the psychiatrist whom Charley approached for the assurance of his mental soundness, was not as incredulous of the third level as it appeared initially. This letter to Charley is sent by Sam who is leading a contented life now in Galesburg. He persuades both Charley and Louisa to come back to the town and never giving up the hope of finding the third level to it.

The story can be analysed using various psychoanalytical tools.

CHARLEY’S ILLUSION AS A FREUDIAN SLIP:

Charley gives a very vivid description of the station. He considers it ever-growing, like a tree. He describes how he keeps discovering new corridors and staircases every time he visits the Grand Central. This adds a mystic element to the story.

Parallels can be drawn to Freud’s psychoanalytical theory. Galesburg was a small, self-sufficient town in Illinois where the pace of life was a tad slow. This happens to be the life that Charley wants to lead. His sheer desire to stay there is a reflection of his Id. His inability to go there and living and working in New York nevertheless, constitute his super-ego. His wife, Louisa, acts like a gatekeeper of his thoughts. She consistently tries to remind him of the reality. Hence she also constitutes his super-ego.

He tries to vent out his frustration by collecting stamps. This is a sublimation of his desires as Freud calls it.

He also mentions that the Grand Central Station has been a portal to elope for years referring to how people use trains to leave one place to explore another.

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He says that maybe because somewhere in the back of his head he had this in mind, he ended up in the third level.

We can argue that his Id was somehow always trying to overpower his super-ego.

There can be various interpretations of the character of Sam in the story. It can be a mere figment of Charley’s imagination or may derive its roots from a real character.Charley, to prove his sanity could have come up with a story of a psychiatrist named Sam whom he consents to resolve the dilemma in his mind. “A waking dream wish fulfilment” is what Sam calls it. Entering the third level is like living a dream he sees everyday with open eyes. It’s an escape to a world free from wars and worries. It can be an imprint of his Id and his repressed desires. And, Sam initially being reluctant to Charley’s seeing the third level, finally finds his door of escapism. The letter sent by Sam can actually be a piece written by Charley mailed to himself. The idea is being derived from Charley’s grandfather’s hobby of stamp collection where he used to mail the first-day stamp covers to himself.Whereas, there can be another outlook to this. Sam can be a real existing figure, a friend or a psychiatrist who has gone out of station or has permanently moved to a new city. In fact it is possible that Sam was also as troubled with his life and work as Charley.

LACAN’S ANALYSIS:

The Third Level of the Grand Central is a microcosm of Charley’s desires. It serves as a portal to where Charley wants to be. He wants to break out of his present and build his future in the past. He is so disillusioned with his life that as soon as he finds a train to Galesburg in 1894, he decides to buy two tickets for himself and his wife. Upon not having the currency notes for 1894,he immediately rushed to the bank the next day to exchange 300$ for some old style currency.

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This illustrates Lacan’s concept of “Lack”. Charley feels vanquished by his relentless toils at work and the vagaries of the world . There is a lack of life itself in his existence. He wants to go to Galesburg,where he thinks he belongs. He is like the young man who is a misfit in his generation, a man caught in the wrong era.

The story dwells on the theme of escapism not only as a psychological refuge from the grim realities of the present but also as a desire to stay in the past or to keep the past alive in the complexities of the present.

We can say that Charley is fixated in his Imaginary Stage. He is still searching for his identity. Whether or not he belongs to this time is his biggest dilemma. This is where the concept of Lack also comes into picture. He might have entered the social order on the outside as per the norms but mentally he is still trying to search his reaches for himself.

As Lacan argues, “the Unconscious mind is the kernel of our being”, a place where the self actually resides. It is possible that Charley unconsciously created The Third Level and even created an alternate self as his psychiatrist friend Sam and made him go to Galesburg since he himself couldn’t. As also analysed by Freud theory, Charley could have sent the letter supposedly written by Sam to himself.

WITH THE TELESCOPE OF OBJECT RELATIONS THEORY:

Galesburg is Charley’s favourite place and probably his hometown too. He had always wanted to be there. It is possible that he was partly brought up in Galesburg. And even after moving to New York, his parents raised him the way families in Galesburg raised their kids, simple and happy. However New York was not anyway even close to Galesburg in 1894. It was the entire opposite in fact. This made him crave for Galesburg even more.

END :

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The story ends on a mysterious note where both Charley and Louisa end up searching for the Third Level. It symbolises how Charley’s repressed desires get the better of him and how he ultimately subverts his super-ego. Sometimes its easier to live with the hope of someday going to a place which you know never existed. It makes life simpler. The paradigm of the story is nebulous and intersects the ideas of time and space. It is also a beautiful commentary on how the present has corrupted our rich heritage and simplicity.

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TEXT FOR MARXIST ANALYSIS:

LONDON BY WILLIAM BLAKE

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LondonBY WILLIAM BLAKEI wander thro' each charter'd street,Near where the charter'd Thames does flow. And mark in every face I meetMarks of weakness, marks of woe.In every cry of every Man,In every Infants cry of fear,In every voice: in every ban,The mind-forg'd manacles I hear How the Chimney-sweepers cryEvery blackning Church appalls, And the hapless Soldiers sighRuns in blood down Palace walls But most thro' midnight streets I hearHow the youthful Harlots curseBlasts the new-born Infants tear And blights with plagues the Marriage hearse 

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MARXIST ANALYSIS OF THE POEM:Marxist views can be frequently found within William Blakes poem “London”. The poem itself was both written and published in 1792, a full half a century before Karl Marx would publish his Marxist theory in 1848. Despite this his views can definitely be described as Marxist, even though he did not have the blueprint for Marxism at that point in time.

The ideological similarities between the views expressed in the poem “London” and Karl Marx’s beliefs are easily found. Just like Karl Marx believed that the working class would one day rise up against the bourgeoisie (We see this written in Karl Marx’s notes “the working class must seize political power internationally through a social revolution”), William Blake also notes in his poem that the working class could easily rise up against the ruling elite but do not because of their “mind-forged manacles” – meaning both the ideological and physical restraints imposed on the slay men by the capitalists – this clearly shows how both the Repressive state apparatus (RSA) and the ideological state apparatus (ISA) function against the working class people. . The mention of CHURCH and PALACE confirms the ideology of the state that has made life more difficult and painful for the Soldiers, peasants and labours

The strongest evidence supporting the claim of Marxist views being found in “London” is William Blake’s criticism of an institutionalized world or as we call it capitalism. For example, in the poem William Blake speaks against several institutions including the Church and the Army. Evidence of this is in the quotes “Blackening the churches appalls” and “the hapless soldiers sigh”. Both of these institutions would have been incredibly powerful during both William Blake’s and Karl Marx’s time and both of them are key features of a capitalist society. One of the key and strongest features of Marxism is Karl Marx’s critique of capitalism, with Marxism often being described as the polar

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opposite to capitalism. Evidence of this can be found in Karl Marx’s notes. “In capitalist society, an economic minority, dominate and exploit the working class majority”. The army is a powerful institution within a capitalist society and the “the Hapless Soldiers Sigh” could be a silent protest against fighting to uphold a system which ultimately forces his friends, family and social kin to live a life of hardship and poverty.

The impact created due to this difference of the proletariats and bourgeoisie's control on the economy is vast. But here, Blake just shows the hardships of life by pointing out to the condition of women. . Young women had to resort to prostitution because of poverty and he can hear her curses for what she has to be put through. Blake takes on an even more foreboding tone as he talks about the young girl who is out in the darkness of the night walking the streets. Her grief affects the new born child.

Blake is pointing a finger at the rich men who might use the services of a prostitute and then get married and pass on disease to their wives. He uses the word "plagues" to signify the goings on of the rich and how their actions affect the lives of all the innocent people involved.

Symbolically this sexual exploitation could refer to the exploitation of the working class. Their plight involves being both metaphorically and literally raped by the ruling elite, like how the rights and lives of the working class are raped and used by the ruling elite.

A silent protest against defending capitalism. When Blake describes the Soldier as “Hapless” he is probably referring to him as miserable, this would connote that a soldiers life is not full of courage and valor as the proletariat were led to believe.

Concluding, this poem in the end, marks itself as a piece of Social Rebellion and unrest. It hints and warns the ruling classes and the Church of the rising proletariat movement that will one day overthrow them, and equality will prevail.

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