His review is, in all other respects, perfectly fine. I’d argue over the semantic appropriateness of describing it as a “review”, for it seems more a belated criticism, focussing more on society’s response to the play than on the play itself, but I digress. Write about the annoying bit already! Okay, okay.

The woman’s eyes are opened; and instantly her doll’s dress is thrown off and her husband left staring at her, helpless, bound thenceforth either to do without her (an alternative which makes short work of his fancied independence) or else treat her as a human being like himself, fully recognizing that he is not a creature of one superior species, Man, living with a creature of another and inferior species, Woman, but that Mankind is male and female, like other kinds, and that the inequality of the sexes is literally a cock and bull story, certain to end in such unbearable humiliation as that which our suburban King Arthurs suffer at the hands of Ibsen.

No, my complaint is not with multiple-run-on sentences (for I myself am often guilty of that, though perhaps less spectacularly than his rather-admirable effor there), but rather with his abuse of the term “literally”. No, GBS, A Doll’s House’s rejection of the notion of the inequality of the sexes is not achieved through literally presenting this as a story about a cock and a bull. You may use that as a metaphor, but not literally. Declaring something to be literal does not serve to emphasise the point. In fact, in this instance, it serves only to ridicule it.

*pulls faces*

The end.

¹ I’m the first to admit I was born in the wrong century. Love of the Internet and technology in general aside, I could quite happily have spent my days as a fringe-Romantic intellectual arguing with various figures of similar standing in the late nineteenth century. So call me an élitist, or something. I enabled dead keys on my keyboard just so I could type élitist properly, you know? I’m that bad. It makes typing apostrophes hellish…

Anyway, to make up for the distinct lack of content this place has been suffering from (although the hits don’t suffer, thanks to search engines and previous relevant content regarding MP3 players, the set of A Doll’s House, and miscellaneous other things…), here’s a list of what I’ve been reading over the last week or two. If you can’t read the titles on the cover images, hold your mouse over and text will appear. Clicking images takes you to the relevant Amazon.com product page (great for reviews that I’m too lazy to type now…). I’ve got more to say on some of these books, but can’t be bothered typing right about now.

How are the concerns and values of Ibsen’s play established in Act 1?

Henrik Ibsen’s play, A Doll’s House, seeks to criticise the values of the society in which it is set. This criticism is established in the opening act of the play, and further developed throughout (culminating in the active rejection of these values by Nora in the closing scene). From the outset, Ibsen’s work identifies several key values which are of concern, in order to address these at a later point.

The viewer is presented first with the character of Nora Helmer entering from “the outside”, dressed in outdoor attire: this is the first and only time the viewer is aware of Nora having been outside the house in the entire play, with all action taking place in the constraints of the set defined by Ibsen as “A room, comfortably and tastefully, but not expensively, furnished.” The set itself is used to establish an environment of comfort, with some degree of irony: what is now a scene of domestic living, becomes synonymous with a prison for Nora, as the story develops.

Upon first entry to the set, Nora is seen standing in the doorway, paying a porter a krone – although he requests only fifty øre (half a krone) – for carrying a Christmas tree and a basket. Whilst “tips” or gratuities of this kind may have been conventional and possibly even required by the expectations of society at the time, a reader in a more contemporary culture (especially in a country such as Australia, or non-European nations where such an expectation does not exist) may perceive this as reflective of Nora’s “spendthrift” nature, which her husband Torvald Helmer is constantly critical of.

Perhaps more significantly, the juxtaposition of Christmas and all that entails for the family of this play (a tree, gifts, etc.) with payment and commerce may be viewed as exemplifying the values held by the society in which Nora and Torvald live their lives: indeed, there is a complete absence of spiritual or religious references regarding Christmas or any other event which occurs in the play (though some may argue Torvald’s condemnation of his wife in the closing scene stems from “Christian” values; indeed, he criticises her for having “no religion, no morality, no sense of duty”). Torvald is still working in his study, so committed to his work that this is being done at home, even on Christmas Eve – “I must make use of the Christmas week for [work], so as to have everything in order for the new year.” The values of society in which they live are such that numerous visitors at this time (with the exception of Doctor Rank, whose visiting is as a friend, as opposed to a business acquaintance) appear with an agenda not purely social, but motivated by something pertaining to work or employment.

Not only the character of Nils Krogstad, but also, to an extent, that of widowed Mrs. Kristine Linde – the motive for her appearance is not entirely apparent to the audience, although the outcome of her visit is key to creating conflict leading to the revelation of Krogstad’s agreement with Nora; her appointment to the position in which Krogstad was previously employed is the catalyst for further plot development in this play. The conversation between Mrs. Linde and Nora is focussed on financial affairs, with all personal references bound to a need for security in a financial manner, or in accordance with other values of the period. Whilst at the beginning of this dialogue Nora asserts that “today I won’t be selfish”, she comes to speak of her “self”, and all that entails: financial security, her husband, and her children.

In this, Ibsen’s play criticises society as focussed upon financial security and the acquisition of wealth first and foremost, with family and friends taking second place, and religion somewhere in the distance – something to provide a loose set of (patriarchal) values, and an impression of self-righteous morality.

It is with no degree of subtlety that Henrik Ibsen contrasts the characters of Nora and Mrs. Linde at the beginning of their dialogue: It is established that Mrs. Linde has been widowed, with a man she did not love dying and leaving her precious little behind, as his business collapsed with his own death – in this, there is a parallel established between the sustenance of life and work, a value echoed in other aspects of the text, too. Deprived of security (which may be achieved, so it is implied, only through marriage to a male preserver – Torvald describes himself in the closing act as having “broad wings to shelter [her] under”), Mrs. Linde is forced to work for a living of her own, and is at this time unemployed.

Ibsen changes the focus of dialogue so quickly that his audience is left in a state of shock: one moment, Nora is declaring “That must be awful”, and sympathising with Mrs. Linde’s plight, yet in the next breath speaks of her own three children, immediately following Mrs. Linde’s declaration that she has none, and no-one to live for.

At this stage, Nora claims she does not wish to be selfish, and requests Mrs. Linde speak of herself first: until she begins on a tangent of her own, saying “just one thing” first. “Just one thing” is to detail the success of Torvald, and the new position of financial security in which they find themselves. Indeed, the impression created is near-comic in nature: one moment, the audience is faced with a dour-faced Mrs. Linde, and sympathising Nora at her side – the next, Nora is declaring how fortunate she is, in a circumstance with which Mrs. Linde is only able to look upon with a degree of remote longing – “Yes; at any rate it must be delightful to have what you need.” – to which Nora replies “No, not only what you need, but heaps of money– heaps!”.

Nora says “Oh, Christina, I feel so lighthearted and happy!” in regard to her situation at the beginning of the play. There exists something of an argument over the semantics of the term “happy” as applied in this play: it is felt by some that nuances of language representing different degrees and types of “happiness” have been lost in some translations of Ibsen’s original play, such that the meaning of terms in the original Riksmål (Traditional Standard Norwegian), Lykkelig and Lystig, are used inappropriately in some translations: the former term means “happy”, whilst the latter is better translated as “gay” (or, given the contemporary connotations that word now carries, “cheerful”) – associated with a more fleeting and temporary emotion.

The significance of this, of course, is that Nora’s “happiness” (translated as such in both McLeish’s translation, Archer’s translation, and the translation used by the Project Gutenberg public domain text), as an profound state of mind, and not a fleeting emotion, is felt as a direct result of the financial situation in which she is in by virtue of her husbands position at the bank. This is perhaps the clearest way in which the importance and value of materialism to the society in which the play is set is conveyed in the opening act of this text.

There is some degree of irony, then, in the cause of conflict within this text being directly associated with that which is so valued: whilst materialism is the prevailingly good and a cause of “happiness”, embracing this same materialism (with charitable objectives, no less) is the ultimate cause of complication and demise – if demise is an appropriate term for the resolution of this text.

In the opening act, Ibsen establishes Nora’s motive in forging her deceased father’s signature: this is done in order to sustain her husband’s life, and spare her dying father from “anxiety and care” which would have stemmed had he been aware of her husband’s illness. It is said by Krogstad that “the law cares nothing about motives”, and claims that the cause of his own social demise was “no more or nothing worse” than the actions taken by Nora. In this, her actions are condemned along with his, and the stage is set for her inevitable “fall” into the same social disrepute which Krogstad now inhabits: her husband confirms as much later in the same act, claiming what was done was done out of necessity, yet later denied – and this, creating a “poisonous” climate for his children.

He goes on, attributing this poison to a “mother’s influence” – something upon which Nora reflects, and apparently accepts: immediately after this conversation ceases, she refuses to see her “little ones” which are begging to be let into the room.

A concern of this play established here is the notion of guidance by parental figures: this is also echoed in the closing act of the play, however the framework and grounds for later comment are established here, as the audience is presented with the three Helmer children being cared for by their nurse – the relationship between the children and Nora parallels that of Torvald and his wife. This serves as a dual criticism, both of the apparent lack of involvement between children and their traditional mentors, and also in likening the relationship between husband and wife (in this circumstance) to that between a parent and a child: Torvald’s continually refers to his wife as being “little”, as to a child.

The belittling attitude adopted by Torvald towards Nora persists throughout the play, with his likening her to an object which is his possession – “You can’t deny it, my dear little Nora.… It’s a sweet little spendthrift, but she uses up a deal of money.” (emphasis added) – later, towards the close of the act, Torvald apparently takes some pleasure in saying to Nora “Aha! so my obstinate little woman is obliged to get someone to come to her rescue?” when she requests his advice: her motive in this is apparent to the audience (she wishes to placate her husband), and the advice required is trivial – this hints that perhaps Nora is capable of greater control and depth than previously thought: in the words of American feminist Emma Goldman, “Down deep in the consciousness of Nora there evidently slumbers personality and character, which could come into full bloom only through a great miracle—not the kind Nora hopes for, but a miracle just the same.”

To the audience, Nora’s concern at this point is primarily for her husband and children: there is no notable sense of self in her consternation with regard to Krogstad’s threats. This is reflected not only in her past actions (specifically, the manner in which she concealed the source of funds for their holiday to Italy from her husband and father), but also in her immediate concerns – she recognises a threat from Krogstad, and responds by speaking of her husband: “If my husband does get to know of it, of course he will at once pay you what is still owing, and we shall have nothing more to do with you.” Her concerns are not for the implications for herself at any point in this first act. Later, when Torvald asserts that the cause of moral corruption is from the mother, Nora responds by shunning her children, in her fear of what she may do to them.

She believes her husband implicitly, not thinking to question him: she is, as the title of the play implies, a doll, stuck in a doll’s house, manipulated by others. The opening act establishes this environment, her domestic prison, and sets the stage for her inner turmoil and subsequent escape from the strictures and expectations of society in the closing lines of this play. Through the development of Nora’s character, and gradual revelation of “truth” opposing society, Ibsen annunciates his concerns and oppositions to accepted values, both in the opening act, and further throughout the play.

A room furnished comfortably and tastefully, but not extravagantly. At the back, a door to the right leads to the entrance-hall, another to the left leads to Helmer’s study. Between the doors stands a piano. In the middle of the left-hand wall is a door, and beyond it a window. Near the window are a round table, arm-chairs and a small sofa. In the right-hand wall, at the farther end, another door; and on the same side, nearer the footlights, a stove, two easy chairs and a rocking-chair; between the stove and the door, a small table. Engravings on the walls; a cabinet with china and other small objects; a small book-case with well-bound books. The floors are carpeted, and a fire burns in the stove.

From this, my sketch (which would probably work in most performance spaces, assuming they’re not too unusual — in which case, you should be used to having to butcher directives in order to get a working set!):

Of course, I’m completely unfamiliar with the design conventions of the period (speaking generally, not of stage and set construction), so chances are furniture details are incorrect, as (most likely) is the style of the stove (stage left) and various other elements in the room. Notably, this block and sketch have been worked from a translation of the original text, so some elements may be different or incorrect due to misunderstanding after translation: The McLeish translation (arguably far less eloquent and watered down!) dictates a number of things different — the most significant being the description of “a small table” (as above) instead as “a side-table”.

I’d chosen to ignore the directive to place that furniture behind the stove, simply because it was simpler not to, and I’d forgotten about the bookcase (besides, there aren’t any compelling reasons to follow this directive, if I were to follow the Gutenberg or Archer version only — “a small table” may be placed anywhere, however the McLeish translation states “a side-table”, which requires a wall…).

For the record, I’m perfectly well aware I can’t sketch, so don’t bother reminding me! Having said that, there seems to be a distinct lack of set designs around that adhere to Ibsen’s directives, so perhaps this may be useful to someone. Oh, and this is just about proving a point, anyway. ;)

Hmm. Aside from that, of course, other things have been happening. Yesterday was my brother’s 8th birthday — I would say happy birthday, but he doesn’t read this, so there we go. :P We went out to Juanita’s, a great Mexican restaruant in Kensington, and… umm… ate food. As you do.

The rest yesterday was spent on a variety of things, from frantically editing CSS and the occasional graphic (all visual design work, thankfully — I’ve decided that I shouldn’t make a habit of programming, as it’s something I regularly fall flat on my face trying!) for an upcoming website, to reading Henrik Ibsen’s 1877 play, A Doll’s House.

I’m struggling to decide which was more enjoyable, too… this website features some rather well implemented gimmicky elements of design, and it’s immensely satisfying to watch come together, from paper mockup to digital reality (haha, I’d never noticed the irony in that before — funny how us web people turn even the concept of “reality” itself on its head, hey?). At the same time, A Doll’s House was an excellent play. I think a comparison of which is more “enjoyable” is truistic, because the play is certainly not enjoyable, even if it was incredibly worthwhile reading.

The website is currently chock-full of proprietry –moz CSS extensions, which is part of a new strategy I’m trying to cut development time. Basically, the thought behind it goes “Josh sucks when working with the GIMP”, so the idea is I use Mozilla controls to achieve visually what I want in an electronic form, such that what I wish to achieve is evident on screen already, and then simply go about converting that to a static graphical form. Of particular use, at least for what I’d envisaged for this design, is the Opacity property… it’s not a perfect representation of what I’ll end up with, as it effects the contents of the element it’s applied to (i.e. not JUST the background of an element), but it’s close enough for all intents and purposes.

Further into this website, I’ll post estimates as to just how much time this has saved… it’s something of an intangible, but hey, you get that.

Today’s the last day of my holidays! Ahhhhh! This has honestly been one of the shorter holiday periods of my life… ah well. I think I’m going to go and buy some more film and RAM for this computer today… I’m sick of seeing it 30% into swap, and physical usage sitting at 98%!

P.S. Mandy Moore’s song “Only Hope” is suprisingly good — I’d written her off as another pop queen, but I’d cite that song as proof she can sing!