Meggie's Blog Post #2

The difference between hope and hopelessness lies almost entirely in one’s ability to believe in something farfetched or unlikely, despite all odds. Often times, this ability is hindered by constantly repeating a certain negative idea either out-loud or in one’s head. In the first two books of The Odyssey, Telemachus repeatedly states that he does not believe that his father is alive or will ever make it home. He grieves:

“The gods have reversed our fortunes with a vengeance -
wiped that man [Odysseus] from the earth like no one else before.
I would never have grieved so much about his death
if he’d gone down with comrades off in Tory
or died in the arms of loved ones,
once he had wound down the long coil of war.
Then all united Achaea would have raised his tomb
and he’d have won his son great fame for years to come.
But now the whirlwinds have ripped him away, no fame for him!
He’s lost and gone now - out of sight, out of mind.” (Book 1, Lines 272-281)

Phrases like “wiped that man from the earth” and “whirlwinds... ripped him away,” imply that Odysseus has been permanently taken from the living world. The hopelessness of Telemachus is emphasized many times as he repeats his sentiments to various pairs of listening ears. To Athena, disguised as Mentes, he states that there is “no use” in thinking about his father since “he’s died a wretched death” (Book 1, Line 193). Also, when Telemachus speaks to the gathered men, he explains that he has “lost [his] noble father who ruled,” reiterating the fact that he believes his father is truly gone. The more he speaks it, the more he seems to have confidence in the fact.

The purpose of Telemachus’s insistence that his father is truly “dead and gone” is to juxtapose the hope that Telemachus gains when Athena convinces him that Odysseus is alive. After years of thinking his father will never come home, Telemachus finally sees a glimmer of hope. This hope provides Telemachus with the courage to finally leave his home and search for his long-lost father.

Madeline Berger, Blog Post #2

Through pages 161 through 167 of book 5 of the Odyssey, Homer develops a cycle in which Odysseus repeatedly switches back and forth between states of extreme desperation and of extreme confidence.

During his states of extreme desperation, Odysseus is convinced that he is about to die, claiming, “now what a wretched death I’m doomed to die!” and “my death-plunge in a flash, it’s certain now!” Despite how frequently he is certain of his approaching death, the gods prevent it every time; for example, “his bones [would have] crushed if the bright-eyed goddess Pallas had not inspired him now.” But what is noteworthy about the sequence of events is not the gods’ prevention of his death, but rather of, given the fact that he witnesses this prevention repetitively, his continually melodramatic responses to future seemingly death-producing experiences. The frequency with which Odysseus goes into the mindset of desperation (demonstrated by repetition on the part(s) of Homer and/or Fagles) despite the repeated evidence that the gods will protect him from death, shows that in times of danger, his emotions overrule his ability to observe patterns and deduce a logically probable outcome based on those patterns. In order to draw attention to the readiness with which Odysseus reverses his convictions on an emotional basis, Fagles uses the word “but” (over ten times in this capacity on these seven pages) to identify almost every moment of transition between the states of desperation and of confidence.

In lines 430-442, Fagles does not use a “but” when describing a reversal of mindset but identifies the definitiveness of that reversal in a more powerful way. Homer and/or Fagles convey(s) the seemingly eternal quality of Odysseus’s desperation by saying, “again and again the man foresaw his death” to illustrate a repetition of the visualization of his death. Homer breaks this repetition by replacing the visualized death with a new image: “landfall, just ahead.” Immediately after breaking the repetition of the state of desperation, Odysseus enters the state of confidence and experiences repetition of an opposite type: Homer and/or Fagles repeat(s) the word dawn twice, warm twice, and joy thrice. In the states of both desperation and of confidence, however, the word “again” is used twice, indicating that Odysseus repeats the convictions of his current mindset: that he becomes steadfastly loyal to them when he is in the mindset to which they belong.

Homer and/or Fagles use(s) repetition to convey both Odysseus’s all-encompassing faith in his current mindset and his ignorance of this quality.

Repetition and Oral Tradition

As contemporary readers, we understand that stories are dynamic creations, and are constantly being enhanced, altered, forgotten, and retold from person to person and through the passage of time. The Greek classics, with their mythology, dynamic heroes, expansive lore, and epic structure make them a prime example of the power and intrigue of oral tradition. Within the Odyssey, there are countless stories, settings, and characters that are woven in and may come from tradition, fact, or the mind of the author. The Trojan War is one example where fact is mixed with fiction, bringing to life the now crucial starting point of Odysseus’ journey. The effect of oral tradition is obvious to us now, yet is recognizable in the Odyssey itself. The repetition that Homer used in the story of Agamemnon and Clymanestra, seen first on lines 218-232 in book three, serves to comment on the prevalence of oral tradition at the time.
The words of King Nestor, Pylos, Menelaus, and Helen all tell a different tale stemming from a common experience. The story of betrayal serves to reflect on the plight of Telemachus, yet its repetition may also allude to the prevalence of oral tradition and the discrepancy that comes along with it. The story told by each of these characters is slightly different and affected by perspective, a trend that would have been prevalent when the Odyssey was written. The repetition that is so obvious with this particular side story reflects on the very creation of the Odyssey, an epic of undisclosed origin that draws a variety of stories and legends together to perpetuate an all-encompassing tale.

Blog Post #2

The presence and importance of the gods in Greek culture is emphasized many times in The Odyssey. Most, if not all, of the mortal characters in this epic poem have an unfailing faith in the omnipotence of the gods. They believe with full conviction that the gods shape their respective destinies, and that mortals have no control over their respective fates.

When Odysseus visits the Phaecians there is one conversation in which a certain phrase is blatantly repeated. When wise Echeneus proclaims that Odysseus should get off the floor and have the seat of honor he says, “So we can pour out cups to Zeus who loves the lightning/champion of suppliants- suppliants’ rights are sacred.” (p184, 196-197) Then, not even half a page later, King Alcinous repeats the very expression!

This obvious repetition is interesting for a few reasons. For one, we can glean much from the epithets that the characters use to see what they think of the gods. This epithet is interesting because of the word “loves.” Love is not a word used very often in an epithet, and even though here it is characterizing his relationship with lightning, it lends to a positive, beneficent view of Zeus. Additionally, he is called the “champion of suppliants,” also very positive language, that portrays Zeus as a just and kind savior. Having been told earlier on that Zeus bestowed upon the Phaecians a beautiful and peaceful country, it would only make sense for them to thank him greatly and view him in a positive light. In conclusion, the repetition in this short passage highlights the positive view the Phaecians have of Zeus, for he is the provider of their prosperity.

Lacrimae Rerum

In the Aeneid, upon viewing graphic depictions of battles from the Trojan War in a Carthaginian temple, Aeneas uttered a now-famous quotation: “Sunt lacrimae rerum et mentem tangunt.” A translation made by Robert Fagles reads, “The world is a world of tears, and the burdens of mortality touch the heart.” Aeneas, recognizing scenes of battle in which his dear comrades had fallen, realized the futility of war and the omnipresence of human suffering. This sequence in Virgil’s Aeneid also bespeaks the theme of storytelling and its tremendous power to summon emotions from the human spirit—a theme that is duly echoed in Homer’s The Odyssey.

In The Odyssey, there are two sequences in which a very similar situation is repeated. In both Book 4 and Book 6, the telling of stories brings the protagonist—In Book 4 the protagonist can be said to be Telemachus, and in Book 6 it is Odysseus—to tears. While Menelaus describes Odysseus’s plight to Telemachus, the boy begins to weep from memories of his father (lines 126-130). In the scene’s conceptual counterpart in Book 6, in lines 99-104, Odysseus buries his face in his cape in order to prevent King Alcinous from seeing him cry as events from the Trojan War are recounted.

The purpose of this repetition appears to be threefold. Firstly, as The Odyssey unfolds, Homer depicts in great detail the process of Telemachus becoming—or realizing that he is—Odysseus’s true son. There are several scenes in which Telemachus is seen to be similar to Odysseus, including a clever reference in lines 455-457 of Book 2: “…and the men fell in and fetched down all the stores and stowed them briskly, deep in the well-ribbed holds as Odysseus’ son directed.” The latter part of the description appears to be a direct allusion to the image of Odysseus stowing his crew inside the well-ribbed holds of the Trojan horse—the use of “Odysseus’ son” in lieu of “Telemachus” appears to support this analysis. Secondly, both scenes appear to share in common the theme previously drawn from Virgil’s Aeneid: human life is wasted in warfare, and suffering is universal. Telemachus weeps for his father’s wasted life, and Odysseus weeps for the lives of his dead comrades and fellow warriors. The final purpose of this repetition could possibly be an explanation for why Homer writes epic poetry—it shows storytelling as something intimate with the human spirit, something that has the power to draw emotions from deep within us.

Vengeance- Blog 2 Rebecca Southern

Book 1 of Homer’s The Odyssey is entitled “Athena Inspires the Prince.” In this book, Athena comes to Telemachus and informs him that his father is still alive. At home, suitors have been pestering Penelope and Telemachus. Athena inspires Telemachus and gives him the confidence to take command and drive the suitors that are plaguing his mother away. He first tries to take control of the suitors by saying:

“See to your feasting elsewhere,

devour your own possessions, house to house by turns.

But if you decide the fare is better, richer here,

destroying one man’s goods and going scot-free,

all right then, carve away!

But I’ll cry out to the everlasting gods in hopes

that Zeus will pay you back with a vengeance-- all of you

destroyed in my house while I go scot-free myself!” (Book 1, 430-437).

At this, the suitors “bite their lips” and are “amazed the prince could speak with so much daring” (438-439). They did not take Telemachus seriously at all and did not leave. They knew Telemachus as a meek little boy, with no real power at all. They had been taking advantage of him and his mother for years. Telemachus also describes to Athena how his house once was great and rich, but now is not. He says, “Now the gods have reversed our fortunes with a vengeance” (line 272). He believed that Odysseus did not return home because the gods want vengeance. There is repetition of the word “vengeance” in Book 1 which indicates that vengeance probably will be a bigger theme in the poem. The repetition also enforces the fact that gods in Greek mythology are typically known for holding grudges and wanting to avenge their enemies.

Book 2 of The Odyssey is entitled “Telemachus Sets Sail.” By the second book, Telemachus has much more self confidence. The contrasting titles of Books 1 and 2 show the growing independence of Telemachus. He no longer needs Athena for inspiration; Telemachus is setting sail. Athena has given him more advice and he is less hesitant than he was in Book 1, but he is still does not seem like he is completely in control. Athena continuously gives him reassurance as he prepares to set sail and find his father. He again has to get rid of the suitors. He proclaims,

“See to your feasting elsewhere,

devour your own possessions, house to house by turns.

But if you decide the fare is better, richer here,

destroying one man’s goods and going scot-free,

all right then, carve away!

But I’ll cry out to the everlasting gods in hopes

that Zeus will pay you back with a vengeance-- all of you

destroyed in my house while I go scot-free myself!” (Book 2, 156-163)

Telemachus says the same words that he did in Book 1 to get rid of the suitors, but this time they come from himself and not Athena. Zeus also “sends down a sign”. Once the suitors see that Telemachus is very serious and is asserting his power, they back down and are nicer to him. These eight lines are repeated from Book 1, but the reaction from the suitors is very different. It took the repetition to make the suitors actually take Telemachus seriously. In general, repetition makes a person take something more seriously and remember it. When memorizing something for a class, repeating it is one of the best ways to put it into our brains. The repetition of these lines shows how Telemachus is growing in self confidence.

Response to #2, Response to #2, Response to #2

Lines 441-450

Many people claim that the ability to recognize patterns represents a large part of the partition between us, humans, and “other animals”. As critical thinkers we are rigorously trained to search for patterns. Repetition plays a key role in the formation of patterns; repetition denotes significance. The Odyssey communicates significance using numerous forms of repetition, and oftentimes the absence, or breaking of a pattern, carries just as much weight as the present repetition. In the lines 441-450 Telemachus and Pisistratus prepare for bed in Nestor’s palace.

The identification of Telemachus as Odysseus’ son, when contrasted with the characterization of Pisistratus as a prince and warrior, highlights the repeated insinuations of the continued boyhood of Telemachus. In this instance Telemachus possesses the epithet “King Odysseus’ son”. Epithets, by the nature of their repetition, lend identity to whatever they are attached to. Telemachus has no constant epithet of his own. The repeated absence of a constant epithet tells the reader of Telemachus’ lack of a mature identity, further compounded by this specific reminder that he has no claim to respect other than the identity of his father. Prince Pisistratus on the other hand, is identified as a prince and as “the young spearman, already captain of armies”. The stark comparison to Telemachus is clear, especially as Telemachus is also a prince but is not named as one. Pisistratus retains these epithets in lines 510 and 541, establishing a repeated pattern and communicating its significance.

The passage contains further significance, derived from repetition, apart from the parallel between Telemachus and Pisistratus. The phrase “each to his own house” pops up in line 291 as well. The repetition of this phrase paints a picture of the democratic concentration of ancient Greek society upon the individual, holding important clues as to why this epic remains relevant to modern American society.

Laura Rutledge

In The Odyssey’s Book 3 and Book 4, the phrase, “When young Dawn with her rose-red fingers shone once more”, is used to introduce two different situations, in spite of the use of the exact same terminology. The first time the phrase is used, it is setting up the scene in which Nestor is waking in his palace and preparing sacrifices to Athena. While the second time the phrase is used, it is when Menelaus is describing his journey back from Troy and having to trick Poseidon in order to cross the sea.

It is such a specific wording--- the imagery is very concise. The mood is set in both scenes because of this introduction. What I found interesting was “once more”. Because not only is dawn arriving once more to set up a scene in The Odyssey, but the phrase itself is used “once more”. The personification of Dawn’s fingers is beautiful imagery and definitely sets the pace of the action. I see dawn slowly spilling over Nestor’s palace or the beach where Menelaus hides beneath seal skins. I believe the significance of this repetition is to show both kings whom Telemachus visits—Nestor and Menelaus—and how though telling different stories, or performing different acts, there is a certain commonality in both men. They share relations with Odysseus; they share relations with Telemachus; they are both in the midst of clarifying and assisting Telemachus. I believe the phrase is repeated in order to show a thread with both experiences and the core of the story.

Repetition of Despondency

Conventional wisdom dictates that the repetition of words, phrases, and ideas help to aid the reader in acquiring knowledge and recognizing important textual clues. However, Homer displays how repetition can also be used as a way to highlight the plight of humanity and our inability to truly know anything. Odysseus’ clever use of repetition allows him to sway the thinking and attitudes of his men, forcing them to recognize their dire situation and take steps to end their peril.

In lines 207-211 of Book 10, Odysseus analyzes the situation of his journey and of his men. As night falls, Odysseus gathers his men and implores them to:

‘Listen to me, my comrades, brothers in hardship,

we can’t tell the east from west, the dawn from the dusk,

nor where the sun that lights our lives goes under earth

nor where it rises. We must think of a plan at once,

some cunning stroke. I doubt there’s one still left.

Odysseus is seeking to inform his men of the disturbing realization that man’s knowledge is extremely limited, and he uses the set sun and the onset of night as an example of man’s helpless stupidity. Repetition allows Odysseus to effectively convey his message, as the comparisons of not being able to tell “east from west” or “dawn from the dusk” force his listeners to accept his words as truth. The examples are beautifully thought out, constructed, and presented, making for an eloquent and powerful sentence.

Of course, Odysseus is not calling his men together simply to depress them. He knows he must remind them of their current horrible state in order to shock them into the desperation required to find a solution. He creates this sense of worry through his repetition, hoping that it will inspire his men to greatness.

Odysseus is often described as a great speaker, or as a man of words, and this is an example of how his language can inspire action. The repetition of realistic, philosophical, yet helpless phrases allow Odysseus to beautifully craft a sense of despondency. Ultimately, great Odysseus will “think of a plan” and will discover “some cunning stroke,” but without the recognition and subsequent realization of despair and futility, perhaps Odysseus would not have experienced such great success.

#2 Dawn and the Telemachiad

In oral poetry, it is common to see repetition used frequently, especially with formulaic lines. In The Odyssey, I took interest in one particular line's role in the Telemachiad: "When young Dawn with her rose-red fingers shone once more..."

This line is read at each of the beginnings of four passages within the first four books of the epic (II.1, III.451, III.550, IV.343), and acts as an impetus for four discrete and key events that take place within those passages. These passages describe Telemachus calling a full assembly to discuss the events plaguing his royal house, Nestor planning his most lavish sacrifice yet after encountering Athena, Telemachus speeding off to Sparta after being gifted with stallions, and Telemachus learning of the reason for his father's delayed return from King Menelaus.

The meaning of this line can be taken quite literally--each time it is mentioned signifies the beginning of a new day in which new events inevitably happen. Dawn is equated with diurnal renewal, and one could even say that each day of Telemachus' journey would obviously yield meaningful results, rendering the statement almost trite. But what I find interesting about this line is that it surfaces first with Telemachus' journey. From the perspective of a man who has made little out of his young life thus far, each new day must create a great deal of meaning for himself. The line prefaces days in which he makes decisions that are remarkably wise, and speaks with an air of confidence that is noted to be very much like his father's.

In all, the line is used as an initiation for Telemachus on his journey, and grows with him as he develops a sense of identity--he, like the Dawn, is young; he continues to cultivate and extend his influence throughout the Telemachiad just as Dawn shines "once more" as each new day rises.

Hospitality

A guest (friend, stranger, or famed visitor) arrives in an unknown land and is met with a king’s welcome, showered with food and drink, welcomed as a friend – it is a familiar and repeated scenario in Homer’s epic, The Odyssey. In book 4, however, the situation is repeated with a fatal twist. When Agamemnon reaches the safety of land at last, Aegisthus greets him by “Picking the twenty best recruits from town / he packed them in ambush at one end of the house, / at the other he ordered a banquet dressed and spread / and went to welcome the conquering hero, Agamemnon, / went with team and chariot, and a mind aswarm with evil, / Up from the shore he led the king, he ushered him in – / suspecting nothing of all his doom – he feasted him well / then cut him down as a man cuts down some ox at the trough!” (Book 4, ll. 595-602).

Homer’s repetition of the scenario of men’s warm reception to guests of all kinds underscores the extreme importance, almost sanctity, of hospitality to the Greeks. A horrible story even if it were to stand alone, the heinous episode of Agamemnon’s visit to Aegisthus is magnified because it is a stark exception to the pattern. Aegisthus welcomes Agamemnon into his home, lavishes him with a great feast, then finishes with murder rather than dessert.

Homer’s use of repetition (and deviations in the pattern) of examples of Greek hospitality places the story of Aegisthus’ murder of Agamemnon, his guest, into cultural context. This cultural lens opens the door to recognition of the event’s intended significance.

--Carly Turner

Leah Shapiro

In book 5 of The Odyssey, Homer utilizes repetition to reinforce Odysseus’ control of his own fate despite the Gods’ interference. A god named Leucothea approaches Odysseus and questions the root of Posiedon’s hatred. Even at this first encounter, she determines Odysseus’ individuality by stating “why is the god of earthquakes so dead set against you?/ strewing your way with such a crop of troubles!/ But he can’t destroy you, not for all his anger./ Jut do as I say. You seem no fool to me.” (page 163, 373-376) Furthermore, the statement “But he can’t destroy you” concretes Odysseus’ independence. She continues on to command Odysseus to take certain actions, constantly repeating the word “you.” Though this repetition may seem insignificant, the recurrence shows the reader that Odysseus can control his own actions. Though Inos somewhat commands Odysseus “But once you grasp the mainland with your hands/ untie it quickly, throw it into the wine-dark sea,” (page 163,384-385) Odysseus still has to perform the actions by himself. Finally, the last line of the passage most notably interlaces repetition when Inos says “but you, you turn your head away!” (page 163, 385) This statement shows that Odysseus can not only control his actions, but also his “head”, which could be taken literally, as a body part, or figuratively, as his mental state.

Repeating the Punishment

Sydney Bernardo

“Practice makes perfect!”

This one phrase, consistently hammered into our brains by parents, teachers, and coaches, invokes the idea that repetition always brings about good results. It is true that the way to master ideas, concepts, and activities is to practice and repeat, changing little aspects to ensure mastery; however, in Book 11: The Kingdom of the Dead in Homer’s The Odyssey, Odysseus and his men visit the underworld to consult with the seer Tiresias and recognize a series of men serving punishment for their respective “offenses” to the gods.

When asked to look for a pattern of repetition in The Odyssey, I found it interesting how repetition did not serve as a means of perfection, but rather, made for very (effective?) brutal punishment. Tityus, for example, has vultures digging into him for his innards; Tantalus is constantly “tantalized” by food and water he can never obtain; and Sisyphus must push a boulder uphill only to have it tumble down - and these happen repeatedly! Because these “activities” seem so gory and horrifying in nature, I automatically believed repetition as punishment was only applicable in the kingdom of the dead. And yet, when I thought about it, I realized that repetition can seem like punishment in our daily lives as well. There are so many creative people, weighed down by their lack-luster jobs, who despise the monotony of the same routine every single day. Prisons, the epitome of authoritative punishment, also make use of systemized procedures (which ironically parallels the structure of elementary and high school, in which designated times for lunch and recreation, and dress codes ruled the lives of children for so many years).

The fact that Homer references the use of repetition as punishment directly speaks to his audiences and readers, even in modern times. The experience of recognizing ourselves - the constantly pained, hungry, or burdened by happenings in life - in Tityus, Tantalus, or Sisyphus brings another dimension into the epic, making the book even more relatable. As for me, the next time I feel famished and there’s nothing left in the fridge, I’ll be happy that there’s always a grocery nearby, and that I don’t have to stand under a tree with food dangling above my head.

Blog Post #2

Select one passage (no more than 15 lines) from any Book of The Odyssey in which repetition is used. Then, using your close reading skills, make an individual, complex, or unusual claim about the significance of repetition. You may want to close read a passage in which Telemachus repeats Athena's words verbatim, or perhaps there is something interesting to say about recurring words/images (i.e., weaving webs, birds, etc). To expand on the ideas discussed in 102, you may want to take a closer look at one of the multiple stories that are repeated (with a difference).

Recognition vs. Realization

Realization is the understanding that results from a successful process of deduction. To perform this deduction, one needs evidence to use in the deduction process. One type of evidence to use when trying to realize the identity of a system is a recognition of a component of the system. Said recognition is achieved by matching the perceived component to the memory of an identical component.

In his Theory of Forms, Plato explains that all chairs existing in the material world are similar but not identical to one’s conception of a chair, which he calls “the ideal chair”. Given the difference (however slight) between the appearance of a real chair and the conception of the “ideal chair”, in order to realize that an unknown object is a chair, one must compare the appearance to the conception and recognize the matching components, such as the curvature of the seat or the texture of the legs. When one has recognized enough similarities, one can use deduction skills to realize that the object is a chair. Determining that the object is a chair is a realization rather than simply a larger recognition because deduction is necessary; the real chair is not identical to the viewer’s conception of a chair, and therefore, the identity of the real chair could not have been realized without deduction. If the ideal chair were to materialize itself in reality, however, then determining that the object were a chair would merely be recognition and not a realization because the ideal chair in reality would match the ideal chair in the mind and therefore deduction would be unnecessary.

In Shakespeare’s Twelfth Night, the cross-dressing and femininity-concealing Viola looks far different than Orsino’s conception of the ideal woman. Because these two appearances are so dissimilar, it takes the entirety of the play for him to realize her true gender. Before this ultimate realization occurs, Orsino recognizes many feminine traits in her, such as her “shrill and sound” small pipe. He compares her to women and by these comparisons, recognizes that some of her traits are feminine. He tells her that “Diana’s lip/ is not more smooth and rubious” and that “all is semblative a woman’s part.” But these recognitions are not enough to enable him to recognize that her gender is female. Recognizing in Viola’s twin brother many features of Viola including “one voice” and “one habit” enables him to, with deduction, realize that the “two persons” are twins. This realization functions as evidence from which he deduces that Viola is female and has merely been impersonating her brother. This realization, therefore, could not have occurred without the sum of the smaller recognitions, deduction, and their resulting realizations.

Blog 1

At first glance, the words “recognition” and “realization” look quite similar. Not only do the two words have eleven letters, start with the letter “r”, and end in “-tion”, both conjure up images of light bulbs brightening as ideas come to fruition. However, as the similar words reverberate through my skull, two separate meanings take form. I find that this question initiates my usual process of first recognizing an idea and subsequently realizing the idea’s importance.

But I am not the only one subject to this predetermined succession of events; as I look around, the thought concretes into tangible cases before me. When I watch my favorite show, Law and Order, I note the recognitions of the detectives as clues are gathered; later, the detectives use these recognitions to come to the ultimate realization – the capture of the murderer, or the criminal, or the lunatic.

As I look back at my favorite novel, The Room, I become aware of the recognitions the main character makes before realizing the importance of escaping her kidnapper. After the protagonist acknowledges the fatal factors, such as her diminishing food, strength, and beauty, she fully comprehends the urgency of the situation and consequently forms a plan of escape.

Through a study of my everyday life, I have come across countless examples of this progression of “recognitions” and “realizations” to find that recognition predetermines the realization, much like a symptom predetermines a disease.

Recognition and Realizations

When broken down to its basic Latin root, the word ‘recognition’ literally means to ‘rethink’—the process of recognition is one that implies a visitation to a concept or entity that has previously been introduced. A realization, however, connotes a fundamental shift in one’s own perception of a concept or entity.

An example of this can be seen in Virgil’s Aeneid. At the end of the epic, Aeneas—the eponymous protagonist of Virgil’s famous epic—falters before killing Turnus, the antagonist of the story. Aeneas hesitates to kill Turnus because he understands that Turnus has already been defeated and the war won by King Evander's forces. However, Aeneas recognizes the belt that Turnus is wearing—a belt that was previously worn by a young boy and ally of Aeneas that had been mercilessly slaughtered by Turnus. Turnus, in his arrogance, had taken the boy’s belt as a trophy. Even still, Turnus begs for mercy beneath the tip of Aeneas’s sword. Having recognized the belt and realized that Turnus was undeserving of mercy, Aeneas buries his sword into Turnus’s breast, killing him.

The ending of One Flew over the Cuckoo’s Nest also illustrates the difference between recognition and realization. At the end of the novel (or movie), The Chief, a mute patient in a psychiatric ward, makes the decision to smother his friend, McMurphy, to death with a pillow. The Chief made this decision after seeing McMurphy for the last time—McMurphy having been lobotomized in an effort to quell his rebellious behavior. The Chief recognized McMurphy as his friend, but also realized that McMurphy had been reduced to a vegetated state and no longer demonstrated a capacity for a meaningful or enjoyable life. The Chief realized that killing McMurphy would be granting him freedom and an ultimate reprieve.

In both examples, both recognition and a realization occur. In both cases, the realization represents a dramatic shift in the perception of an individual and recognition occurs when an individual revisits or reviews a person or item that they once knew.

#1 Recognition vs. Realization

At first, I wrote this blog post's title as "Recognition +/vs. Recognition" to examine the similarities and differences between recognition and realization. But now that I think of it, there isn't much to say on the matter of convergence because recognition and realization are very discrete in meaning and application. The idea that the two are similar is true--both exercise cognition in retrieving a thought of minimal to considerable familiarity from any stimulus that houses itself in the brain longer than thirty seconds (i.e. long-term memory)--though it is of a very common understanding that doesn't quite register the depth in each word's meaning.

Recognition is closely associated with "acknowledgement," which is a simple act of noticing, quite on par with the first tier of Bloom's Taxonomy, remembering, and possibly even the second, understanding. It is largely external--you recognize certain appearances, or even less physically, character traits in someone or something, and when a person is recognized, he or she is put on exhibition for a certain viewable quality. For example, Sanger Rainsford of Richard Connell's "The Most Dangerous Game" notices several curiosities: markings that show disturbance in Zaroff's forest, blood stains on trees, and a death cry that is unfamiliar to his ears. He loosely recognizes them as products of hunting but not specifically what and why.

Realization is a dawning-upon of meaning, nearly requiring a context of more complexity and even confusion than recognition normally finds itself in. It expects reflection upon previous actions, events, and ideas and the realizer's rearrangement of thoughts--imagine these creating a "path" leading up to the realization--to integrate the epiphany with his or her understanding of self or others before moving forward. Continuing in Rainsford's thoughts again, he eventually realizes that the hunt was for a very sophisticated animal--the human--after conversing with the General and "backtracking" to what he had seen earlier. There is also the archetypal hero who gains some sort of meaning after embarking on his or her most salient adventure yet, as with Katniss Everdeen in Suzanne Collins' The Hunger Games, who after so long recognizing her enemy as her war opponent, the totalitarian society of Panem, comes to realize that both Panem and District 13 are her enemies, with different goals but startlingly identical characters in government. Since there seems to be a pattern formed by recognition preceding realization, it then would make sense for realization to cross to the upper tiers of Bloom's: applying, analyzing, evaluating, creating.

So there you have it--a moment out of context may occur with recognition, but when one synthesizes this exclusive thought with a wider web of ideas does realization truly arise in oneself. I would think we all innately use these terms in acknowledgement of their boundaries, but we wouldn't easily recognize their causal relationship if not for this willful juxtaposition.

Recognition and Realization

In my opinion, recognition is to acknowledge and see something but realization is to fully understand all aspects of something. A person can recognize that something exists, but realization takes the recognition a step further and is when they are fully aware. To recognize something is to acknowledge the presence on the outside, but to realize is to understand from within oneself. A person must understand internally to realize. Realization usually comes after recognition.

In Shakespeare’s King Lear, King Lear completely disowns his only loyal daughter Cordelia because he believes that she does not love him. He trusts his illegitimate son Edmond who is really just using Lear for his money and power. Lear recognizes Edmond as good and Cordelia as bad because they both appear to be on the outside. But in reality, Cordelia loves Lear and wants him to be happy and Edmond is using him for his own self interest. For most of the play, the evidence of the truth was right in front of King Lear, but he did not realize it or understand until later. He clearly saw the actions of both Cordelia and Edmond but his realization of the truth came from within and cause him to go crazy.

In the movie “Spiderman”, Peter Parker recognized that he had super powers and what he physically could do. But throughout the movie, Peter realizes who he really is. He finds that he can do good for other people by using his powers in the right way. Peter fights crime and saves the day many times before he realized that family and friends are also important aspects of his life. He needed to take care of his Aunt and Uncle, and spend more time with Mary Jane. He realized that being Spiderman wasn’t about dressing up in a costume but actually helping the people he loves. His realization came from within and allowed him to more fully understand who he is and the implications of his actions.

Recognition vs. Realization

Recognition and Realization are two forms that share the similar essence of knowing, or "to find out" in the verb tense. The similarities and complexities of the two reflect the Spanish words conocer and saber, which both translate to "to know" in the English language. However, their actual meaning and usage is quite distinct. While they are not a direct correlation to recognition and realization, the distinct difference of saber (having knowledge of) and conocer (being acquainted with something) reflects the variety of meaning that knowing can have.
Recognition is in many senses the less profound version of realization. It is the act of knowing; a more continous knowledge of something that is reflected in recalling the essence of the object. You recognize a person you have met before, recognize the validity of the argument, or recognize the danger of the situation. In the novel "Catcher in the Rye", the protagonist Holden Caufield has a distinct, somewhat pessimistic but certainly an honest view of people. He recognizes most as "phonies", a view that stays somewhat constant throughout the novel and reflects his knowledge of human behavior. It is perhaps a result of his attitudes and opinions, but neverthless he exemplifies recognition in a constant knowledge of the truth of people.
Realization, on the other hand, is more profound and unique in that it describes a moment of knowing where you at some point realize the truth of something. In Plato's Allegory of the Cave, the man who is released from the reality of shadows to the outside world is hit with the knowledge of the true form of things. All he knew was an illusion, and at that moment he gains the knowledge of what life truly is. He has realized at that point, not simply recognized something he has seen before but actually has found the true form of every reality. Recognition is important as the base of understanding, but realization achieves deeper knowledge and the progression of knowledge through its instant deposition of the truth.

Similar in Structure, Different in Impact : Recognition vs. Realization

“Recognition” and “realization” are similar in meaning and structure. Both begin with the same consonant sound, both consist of eleven letters, and both refer to a sort of identification, but while these similarities help explain the inevitable connection between the words, they also highlight the idea that perhaps without such structural similarities the words would not be used as if they were the same. While the words have some similar aspects, they should not be used interchangeably, for the implications of their uses are vastly different.

Recognition is an identification of presence. When a recognition is made by someone, he is able acknowledge the existence of something, but perhaps does not fully understand the concept. This is contrasted by a realization in which the person is struck by an identification in such a way that he is fully aware of the implications and results of whatever it is he has witnessed or realized.

The distinction between recognition and realization helps to explain situations in which both types of identifications occur. In Conrad’s Heart of Darkness, Kurtz’s exclamation of “The horror! The horror!” exemplifies a profound realization, as Kurtz discovers something horrifying about the depth of his soul, the plight of humanity, and the terrifying nature of death. However, this realization is only experienced by Kurtz, and the reader, as well as the narrator Marlow, are left only with a recognition that something profound and important has occurred. Millions of scholars and readers have ventured their own ideas about what Kurtz may have meant when he uttered these famous words, but there is no true answer, condemning this identification to simply a recognition.

Recognitions can often pave the way to a meaningful realization. This is often how detectives work, as they recognize suspicious behavior and clues before following them to the realization of solving a case. A more spontaneous transition from recognition to realization occurs in the final minutes of “The Shawshank Redemption” when the warden quickly transitions from noticing a hole in the Rita Hayworth poster (recognition of something wrong) to realizing the implications of the tunnel Andy has escaped through. When the warden first hurls a stone through the poster, he does not know the full implications of what has happened. However, the realization of truth can not occur without the initial recognition. Acting upon recognitions often results in realizations, and it is important to act without hesitation to avoid missing an opportunity at profound realization.

Response to Prompt 1

Realization and recognition are kind of like fraternal twins--- alike in concept, very different in actuality. When one realizes something, anything, one is seeing something completely new. A paradigm shift has occurred. For example, when Emma Stone, in “Easy A”, becomes aware of the power she has as a female and the power of perception, she realizes something she has never known before. She uncovers this secret (although to many others it is not a secret). She has never been aware of this “power”, and so, to her, a sudden light bulb goes off, that she never knew existed in the first place.

Recognition is similar to dusting off an old photo album. One is not uncovering something, rather, refreshing an idea or thought that was already in place. A seed was planted a while ago… in The Color Purple, when Celie begins to come to terms with the fact that she has been horribly mistreated and abused by Albert, there is a sense of recognizing something that she has known the whole time. She just needs others to tell her something she has known the whole time in her gut.

Answer to First Blog Prompt

By Meggie!

Although the words “recognize” and “realize” share similar connotations of a basic sort of knowing, recognizing is simply the act of noting an object’s, person’s, or event’s existence, while realizing implies a deeper level of understanding of the meaning of the aforementioned object, person, or event. The difference between recognition and realization is exemplified in the climax of Shakespeare’s Romeo and Juliet. Romeo, upon seeing a deeply sleeping Juliet in a tomb, recognizes that she is dead. Understandably, it makes sense for him to reason that, since Juliet outwardly displays all the signs of lifelessness. However, had he received the message that she was feigning death, he would have realized and truly understood the purpose of her state. Romeo’s recognition, and not realization, of Juliet’s “death” leads to his unnecessary suicide. Conversely, when Juliet awakes from her intense slumber, she swiftly comprehends what Romeo has done, realizing exactly why he took his own life - her message never reached him. Understanding the events that took place that led Romeo to his fate, Juliet commits suicide with a purpose, her decision supported by her awareness of the facts.
A less tragic example of the stark difference between recognizing and realizing occurs in the 2006 cinematic gem, “She’s the Man,” a modern adaptation of Shakespeare’s Twelfth Night. The protagonist, Viola, assumes the identity of her twin brother in order to participate in the “boys only” soccer team, deceiving all of her classmates. Her friends and teammates unsuspectingly “recognize” a wig-wearing Viola as her twin brother, but only a select few realize the suspiciousness of a high-school jock discussing the inconveniences of wearing heels, or refusing to shower at the same time as the rest of “his” team. These few “realizers” eventually reveal Viola’s true identity because they are the only ones to see beyond simple appearances to discover truth.
Though recognition is essential to everyday life (i.e. recognizing a hall-mate, or a building where class takes place), it is very straightforward in nature. Realization requires looking beyond the accepted “face value” to discover someone or something’s greater function. However, realization cannot exist without some sort of recognition beforehand. Thus, recognition and realization work in tandem in the process of uncovering truth and purpose.

Recognition is the final step of realization. A realization can take many forms: it can be frivolous or life-changing, it can come gradually or in a single elucidating moment, it can be intensely personal or universally applicable. No revelation, however, merits the title of ‘realization’ until the moment of recognition, the moment in which the subject can, in retrospect, see a series of events or a set of knowledge – which may or may not have seemed significant at the time – as the stepping stones to a greater understanding.

In Albert Camus’ The Stranger, Mersault reaches the realization that death is inevitable, and no difference exists between dying by execution and dying by natural causes. His lucidity and self-analysis in his final moments starkly contrast his previous indifference and apathy; his new clarity of thought stems from his ability and willingness to recognize the meaning – or lack thereof – of his life events thus far. No new events occur in Mersault’s final moments, but his ultimate recognition of the implications of his past completes his final realization.

On a slightly disparate vein, Chuck Palahniuk tells the story in his novel, Fight Club, of the protagonist’s (who is never named) life and interactions with a man named Tyler Durden, ultimately concluding in a final realization toward which the protagonist reels over the course of the novel. Similar to Mersault, the protagonist’s realization immediately precedes the time he believes he will be killed. His mental clarity in his final moments allows him to recognize, in retrospect, that every occurrence in his life has been a stepping stone, a clue – and finally, with this recognition, his realization is complete: he and Tyler Durden are the same person, he has a split personality.

Realizations are reached every day – in life, in literature, in the movies – but no thought can be a realization until the subject recognizes it as such.