Time Traveler Extraordinaire (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
solaciolum) wrote2009-09-24 02:13 pm
solaciolum) wrote2009-09-24 02:13 pm
(no subject)
Why, hello there, crippling academic doubts, it's been such a long time!
I know I am capable of analysis, I just tend to be bad at it.
Using "parent" here as shorthand for the modern, American definition; declaiming the various kings in the story as bad parents ignores the cultural landscape contemporary to the stories, and I am aware of that.
Technically the Simurgh is genderless, but the translation of Esfandiyar's story refers to it in the feminine; some research into the Simurgh's background might be necessary if there is actually some sort of point to be made about it. It is genderless in the original Persian because Persian doesn't have gendered pronouns- but this is the bird that kept a nest, and raised Zal as its own child. Even if it lacks a gender, it assumed the role of mother/parent in Zal's life.
The Simurgh also continues to serve as a mother/parent- father figures are not parental except in the most peripheral of ways. In both stories, the major father figures (the shahs) are distant, forboding, and villainous. The shahs do not raise their children; Esfandiyar and Rostam do not raise their children.
Possibly I just want to examine motherhood vs. fatherhood in these two stories- mothers as advisors, supporters, mourners; fathers as antagonists, authoritarian and blinded by that authority. The bond between father and son is much weaker than that between a soldier and country, pahlavan and king- Esfandiyar isn't loyal to the shah because the shah is his father- he's loyal because the shah is ordained by god. Rostam and Sohrab don't recognize each other because the enmity between the Iranians and Turanians is too great.
But there are functional father/son bonds in the Dragon's Claws- Esfandiyar's children fight alongside him. One of them dies in the battle against the Zabolestani warriors- a battle that ocurred only because of Esfandiyar's pride and his loyalty to the shah. The other son survives him and is raised in Zabol by Rostam until he is grown and can return to court in Iran.
It might be interesting to look at Bahram as Rostam's way of atoning not only for Esfandiyar's death, but also for Sohrab's. Rostam has one other son, who fights beside him and is a hero on the battlefield, but we know nothing of Faramarz's mother; she isn't mentioned in the geneology Clinton provides in the preface to the Dragon's Claws.
The obligation from father to son and son to father is disrupted by the obligation of a man to his king and country, and when the king is corrupt, all other bonds are vulnerable to corruption of a similar sort. Kay Kavus denies Rostam the opportunity to save Sohrab, and Rostam can't fight him over this, because Kavus is still shah, and Rostam is still the greatest pahlavan of Iran, and loyal to a fault. (But not so loyal that he would submit to chains; Rostam is more independent than the other characters we see, but he pays for that independence with shame and murder.)
The chain of command: son-->father-->king-->god
Women, of course, do not even exist in this line of authority. A mother has no power except through her son; thus Katayun has some influence because Esfandiyar is crown prince; Tehmine's only ambition was to escape the harem and bear Rostam's child.
It's interesting to note that both Esfandiyar and Sohrab at one point or another threaten their mothers with death, when all their mothers were doing was giving good advice.
Rostam, on the other hand, counsels his brother to tell their mother not to weep or mourn overmuch for him if he should die. We never see this woman except in references from Rostam and Zal, but it is clear Rostam loves her and respects her.
And then we have the Simurgh, who raised Zal, whom Zal summons with milk and fire, who teaches Rostam to defeat Esfandiyar but also counsels him to not be blinded by anger- much as Katayun counsels Esfandiyar earlier in the story. (Zal, then, is the only father figure who actively takes on a parenting role; Rostam does not submit to his authority the way Rostam submits to the shah's. Is this just because Rostam outranks his father, or because Zal is an Otherworldly figure, "Pale Zal," raised by the Simurgh, born white haired and like a demon? What could be more Other than a man who stands outside of the normal patriarchal hierarchy and is not brought low because of it?)
I'm totally reading too much into that. I don't have enough material to draw the conclusion that sorcery-->mysterious-->feminine. Demons are genderless or male; women didn't even have enough power to be witches at this point. (Or perhaps they did, but I haven't got the sources to back it up either way- it was certainly true in the ancient period, but the classical/medieval period? Not necessarily so.)
The fact remains that Zal is not threatened by his son's greatness the way Goshtasp is threatened by Esfandiyar, or the way Rostam is threatened by Sohrab, even though Rostam is undoubtedly the greater hero.
But I digress. The Simurgh is the fourth mother figure in these two stories- genderless and powerful, but still there to grant wise counsel and serve in a mothering role. But being a supernatural bird creature with knowledge of the mysteries of Yazdan gives the Simurgh authority that the human women don't have. She heals Rostam's wounds, makes him whole, gives him the power to defeat Esfandiyar. Fathers exist to be obeyed; mothers exist to support and love and uplift their sons.
And this is what happens when you have 40 year old men marrying 15 year old girls- by the time the kids are grown, their mother isn't even middle aged while their father is nearing the end of his life. (In Islamic courts, girls could be married at 9, because that was the age of the prophet's youngest wife; at what point did childbirth generally occur, though? ...ugh, patriarchy.) The sons have a much stronger bond with their mothers, but mothers still have no authority- even the Simurgh can't tell Rostam what to do, although I suppose at a certain point you have to accept that your 500 year old grandson is old enough to make his own stupid decisions.
Katayun, Rostam's mother, Tehmine, the Simurgh...and then we have Gordafarid, who almost bests Sohrab in battle, and even if she doesn't quite manage that, she certainly acquits herself honorably against him. And Sohrab is totally respectful of her, even though the emphasis is placed on her womanly traits- she's beautiful and graceful, but when she had her helmet on, she was fierce and undaunted. Women are only allowed to be not-womanly when they aren't being seen.
I'm not sure where Gordafarid stands with regard to the other women in the story- in Sohrab and Rostam, the only other woman is Tehmine (Rostam's mother is mentioned, but never seen) who is, without a doubt, the most ambitious woman we encounter. She knows what she wants, and she takes it- she has agency and desires. Granted, her desires are to 1) have hot sex with a hot hero and 2) bear the beautiful children of that hot hero, but it's still kind of remarkable that she is so upfront about these desires. Esfandiyar and Sohrab were also ambitious, and that led to their downfall- but their ambitions clashed with the kings, while Tehmine's ambitions are purely personal.
There's no real background on Gordafarid, except in the meaning of her name- one who is made a warrior. She is so much not-woman that she could not possibly have been born of a woman. Or something like that, I need to check my footnotes.
After Sohrab dies, there's a line that mourns his passing- no woman will ever bear his like again- or something like that. There's some sort of parallel there, but I'm not sure it really means anything.
(There's a particular moment- and I'm brainvomiting all of this stuff without my books open, so it's imprecise- where the captured general is compared to a woman in a particularly poetic manner. And this guy isn't meant to be respected; he didn't die protecting the White Fortress, he surrendered, and now he's giving information to Sohrab. He does redeem himself eventually, and gets whacked by Sohrab for not pointing out Rostam on the battlefield, but at that particular point in the story he is a pathetic figure.)
The women mourn far more than the men do, even though the men entreat them to not grind ashes into their hair and such. They weep bloody tears at every opportunity for their slain sons. (Though we never see Tehmine's reaction to losing Sohrab- only Rostam's. He is only a parent when his son is dead.)
Paper is due next week; I need to get my thoughts more in order if I want to not embarrass myself completely. *sigh*
I know I am capable of analysis, I just tend to be bad at it.
Using "parent" here as shorthand for the modern, American definition; declaiming the various kings in the story as bad parents ignores the cultural landscape contemporary to the stories, and I am aware of that.
Technically the Simurgh is genderless, but the translation of Esfandiyar's story refers to it in the feminine; some research into the Simurgh's background might be necessary if there is actually some sort of point to be made about it. It is genderless in the original Persian because Persian doesn't have gendered pronouns- but this is the bird that kept a nest, and raised Zal as its own child. Even if it lacks a gender, it assumed the role of mother/parent in Zal's life.
The Simurgh also continues to serve as a mother/parent- father figures are not parental except in the most peripheral of ways. In both stories, the major father figures (the shahs) are distant, forboding, and villainous. The shahs do not raise their children; Esfandiyar and Rostam do not raise their children.
Possibly I just want to examine motherhood vs. fatherhood in these two stories- mothers as advisors, supporters, mourners; fathers as antagonists, authoritarian and blinded by that authority. The bond between father and son is much weaker than that between a soldier and country, pahlavan and king- Esfandiyar isn't loyal to the shah because the shah is his father- he's loyal because the shah is ordained by god. Rostam and Sohrab don't recognize each other because the enmity between the Iranians and Turanians is too great.
But there are functional father/son bonds in the Dragon's Claws- Esfandiyar's children fight alongside him. One of them dies in the battle against the Zabolestani warriors- a battle that ocurred only because of Esfandiyar's pride and his loyalty to the shah. The other son survives him and is raised in Zabol by Rostam until he is grown and can return to court in Iran.
It might be interesting to look at Bahram as Rostam's way of atoning not only for Esfandiyar's death, but also for Sohrab's. Rostam has one other son, who fights beside him and is a hero on the battlefield, but we know nothing of Faramarz's mother; she isn't mentioned in the geneology Clinton provides in the preface to the Dragon's Claws.
The obligation from father to son and son to father is disrupted by the obligation of a man to his king and country, and when the king is corrupt, all other bonds are vulnerable to corruption of a similar sort. Kay Kavus denies Rostam the opportunity to save Sohrab, and Rostam can't fight him over this, because Kavus is still shah, and Rostam is still the greatest pahlavan of Iran, and loyal to a fault. (But not so loyal that he would submit to chains; Rostam is more independent than the other characters we see, but he pays for that independence with shame and murder.)
The chain of command: son-->father-->king-->god
Women, of course, do not even exist in this line of authority. A mother has no power except through her son; thus Katayun has some influence because Esfandiyar is crown prince; Tehmine's only ambition was to escape the harem and bear Rostam's child.
It's interesting to note that both Esfandiyar and Sohrab at one point or another threaten their mothers with death, when all their mothers were doing was giving good advice.
Rostam, on the other hand, counsels his brother to tell their mother not to weep or mourn overmuch for him if he should die. We never see this woman except in references from Rostam and Zal, but it is clear Rostam loves her and respects her.
And then we have the Simurgh, who raised Zal, whom Zal summons with milk and fire, who teaches Rostam to defeat Esfandiyar but also counsels him to not be blinded by anger- much as Katayun counsels Esfandiyar earlier in the story. (Zal, then, is the only father figure who actively takes on a parenting role; Rostam does not submit to his authority the way Rostam submits to the shah's. Is this just because Rostam outranks his father, or because Zal is an Otherworldly figure, "Pale Zal," raised by the Simurgh, born white haired and like a demon? What could be more Other than a man who stands outside of the normal patriarchal hierarchy and is not brought low because of it?)
I'm totally reading too much into that. I don't have enough material to draw the conclusion that sorcery-->mysterious-->feminine. Demons are genderless or male; women didn't even have enough power to be witches at this point. (Or perhaps they did, but I haven't got the sources to back it up either way- it was certainly true in the ancient period, but the classical/medieval period? Not necessarily so.)
The fact remains that Zal is not threatened by his son's greatness the way Goshtasp is threatened by Esfandiyar, or the way Rostam is threatened by Sohrab, even though Rostam is undoubtedly the greater hero.
But I digress. The Simurgh is the fourth mother figure in these two stories- genderless and powerful, but still there to grant wise counsel and serve in a mothering role. But being a supernatural bird creature with knowledge of the mysteries of Yazdan gives the Simurgh authority that the human women don't have. She heals Rostam's wounds, makes him whole, gives him the power to defeat Esfandiyar. Fathers exist to be obeyed; mothers exist to support and love and uplift their sons.
And this is what happens when you have 40 year old men marrying 15 year old girls- by the time the kids are grown, their mother isn't even middle aged while their father is nearing the end of his life. (In Islamic courts, girls could be married at 9, because that was the age of the prophet's youngest wife; at what point did childbirth generally occur, though? ...ugh, patriarchy.) The sons have a much stronger bond with their mothers, but mothers still have no authority- even the Simurgh can't tell Rostam what to do, although I suppose at a certain point you have to accept that your 500 year old grandson is old enough to make his own stupid decisions.
Katayun, Rostam's mother, Tehmine, the Simurgh...and then we have Gordafarid, who almost bests Sohrab in battle, and even if she doesn't quite manage that, she certainly acquits herself honorably against him. And Sohrab is totally respectful of her, even though the emphasis is placed on her womanly traits- she's beautiful and graceful, but when she had her helmet on, she was fierce and undaunted. Women are only allowed to be not-womanly when they aren't being seen.
I'm not sure where Gordafarid stands with regard to the other women in the story- in Sohrab and Rostam, the only other woman is Tehmine (Rostam's mother is mentioned, but never seen) who is, without a doubt, the most ambitious woman we encounter. She knows what she wants, and she takes it- she has agency and desires. Granted, her desires are to 1) have hot sex with a hot hero and 2) bear the beautiful children of that hot hero, but it's still kind of remarkable that she is so upfront about these desires. Esfandiyar and Sohrab were also ambitious, and that led to their downfall- but their ambitions clashed with the kings, while Tehmine's ambitions are purely personal.
There's no real background on Gordafarid, except in the meaning of her name- one who is made a warrior. She is so much not-woman that she could not possibly have been born of a woman. Or something like that, I need to check my footnotes.
After Sohrab dies, there's a line that mourns his passing- no woman will ever bear his like again- or something like that. There's some sort of parallel there, but I'm not sure it really means anything.
(There's a particular moment- and I'm brainvomiting all of this stuff without my books open, so it's imprecise- where the captured general is compared to a woman in a particularly poetic manner. And this guy isn't meant to be respected; he didn't die protecting the White Fortress, he surrendered, and now he's giving information to Sohrab. He does redeem himself eventually, and gets whacked by Sohrab for not pointing out Rostam on the battlefield, but at that particular point in the story he is a pathetic figure.)
The women mourn far more than the men do, even though the men entreat them to not grind ashes into their hair and such. They weep bloody tears at every opportunity for their slain sons. (Though we never see Tehmine's reaction to losing Sohrab- only Rostam's. He is only a parent when his son is dead.)
Paper is due next week; I need to get my thoughts more in order if I want to not embarrass myself completely. *sigh*