Flash Fiction; Paris Street: Zoo Escape

              As the train came within sight of Paris, Jacque stood anxiously inside one of its cars and kept watch of the zoo animals inside as he thought about how he had ended up working as a zoo keeper for the Paris Zoo, rather than attending that fancy university in Paris he’d always dreamt of.

              His gaze at the ornate buildings of Paris was suddenly interrupted when the train began to rock back and forth, was finally derailed and flipped on its side, its doors flung open. Animals of all sorts cried out as the train toppled over, climbing out of their respective cars as the wreckage settled.

              Jacque ran toward the herds of animals leaving the wreckage, calling frantically for them to “please come back”, quickly realizing the lack of control he could wield over such wild animals. In this situation, he was immediately reminded of the hopelessness he felt throughout his life back at his family’s decrepit home in a poor region of rural France.

              Jacque caught short glimpses of animals, now scattered throughout the streets of Downtown Paris, as they weaved between the buildings; coming out from behind one and immediately disappearing behind another. The people on the streets were all hurrying somewhere, and none seemed to have time to be concerned about the oddity of the wondering zoo animals. Those passing by gave little more than a confused glance.

              Meanwhile, the zookeepers had given up their attempt to corral the animals, while Jacque wondered the streets still, hoping that if he could find the animals, maybe he would think of some way to lead them to the zoo. He could hear them all around him, their hooves and scaly feet pattering on the cobblestone streets as they moved about. He felt trapped. He felt all of the things he had felt helpless about in his life surround him, pattering on those same cobblestone streets. He became increasingly curious about these things, wondering if there would have ever been a way to make the dreams he once had within reach.  The animals moved ever farther out of reach, and as they did he supposed not, and those past dreams seemed to vanish with the animals.

              The streets now were empty. The people who were so unaffected by the strange sight were now wherever they had intended to be; at work, at the grocery store, at the post office. They had all arrived at their destinations now, and it was about the time that the animals would have arrived at their own destination, had they not been derailed from route.

              As the day neared its end, Jacque saw people emerge from the buildings, the grocery stores, and the post offices, who were now on their way to another destination. It was time to end the day and time to go home, and as Jacque and the other zoo keepers arrived at the zoo to tell their boss of the unfortunate train wreck and escape, they were met by the very animals who had wondered the streets of Paris just minutes before.

              It appeared that the animals had found their way to their intended destination just as the people of the Paris streets had. It was as if the animals knew all along the place for which they were intended. As they walked seemingly instinctively into the zoo, Jacque felt the helpless things in his life come within his grasp, and he felt, for the first time, at ease.
ARTIST ATTRIBUTION: Oil Painting by Meg Mickelsen, titled Paris Street: Zoo Escape

Even the Bad Guys Can Be Christ Figures

              This chapter immediately got me interested in reading further just because of its strange title; I was curious to see where Foster was going with this idea. The “too” in the title seems to imply that Christ figures appear abundantly, but I initially could not think of any examples I’d ever seen of Christ figures. It seems sort of contradictory; if there is one Christ, how can there be so many Christ figures in literature? Christ figures aren’t meant to mean Christ himself, of course, but it would seem that there would still be a scarcer amount of them.

              Once Foster introduces his list of Christ-like qualities, he makes it known that Christ figures are much easier to spot than you’d think. If you can recognize just a few similarities to Christ, including the ones on this list, you’ve found a Christ figure.

              Despite the similarities to Christ that a character may hold, I think a certain attitude and connotation toward him/her must be present in order for them to truly take on a Christ-like persona. I don’t mean that the character has to be adored by all or looked to with the utmost admiration. The character, however, may be viewed in a different way than the other characters; he should stand out. I suppose you could even say that a Christ-like character is typically “marked for greatness”, although that greatness can be either good or bad.

              Someone who is a humanitarian could be considered a Christ figure, but so could a criminal who has gained a cult-like following. Harriet Tubman was a Christ figure, leading people to “salvation” in the north, and a huge group of people held a great deal of faith and respect in her. She was self-sacrificing (#3 on Foster’s list of Christ qualities) and had “followers” to some extent (#16 on the list). On the other hand, Kim Jong Un, the dictator of North Korea, also has Christ-like qualities. In fact, there’s probably a good chance that he’s even got some Koreans believing that he himself is God. While he doesn’t really fall into any of the categories on Foster’s list (other than having followers), he certainly is treated by North Koreans in a Christ-like manner. From what I know, his picture is displayed everywhere as a constant reminder of his power. He dictates nearly everything his people say and do, and in this way, he “plays God.” Similarly, the “Little Red Books” of quotes from Chinese leader Mao Tse-Tung resembled the portable copies of the New Testament that Christian often carry with them. Furthermore, it was believed by some to be a great offense to Mao Tse-Tung for the book to be damaged in any way.

              All things considered, the greatest factor in being a Christ figure tends to be the person’s following. To be sure, it’s not the only factor, but if a character or person does not have even a small number of “disciples,” it could be difficult for their other Christ-like characteristics to really shine through.

Adversity Marks Greatness

                Before even reading the first word of this chapter (but having read the chapter’s title), I immediately thought of harry potter. He was “marked for greatness” in a number of ways. First and most obviously, he had the lightning bolt shaped scar on his forehead. There were other signs of his future greatness too, though. Mr. Potter was sort of the black sheep of his family, not really having a place where he truly fit in. His parents having died when he was a baby, he was forced to live with his unaccepting and hateful aunt and uncle. All of the signs that he was an underdog were there. Harry is treated terribly by his so-called family members until he is finally able to escape to a better place when he discovers his wizarding abilities and is sent to Hogwarts. Other than being a sign of his future greatness, Harry’s scar itself can symbolize the tragedies he’d faced in his life before leaving to Hogwarts, beginning with the death of his parents and continuing into his life of neglect with his aunt and uncle. As for the shape of the scar, it could symbolize hope for Harry, that he’s destined to “light up” the world with his future prominence, or that he is to one day be as powerful as a lightning bolt (or any other symbolism that can be derived from light or a lightning bolt).

                Foster makes a good point in saying “it’s easier to introduce characters without imperfections.” After considering this statement, it is much easier to tell when that potential greatness is present. If J.K. Rowling hadn’t given Harry the scar, the death of his parents, and all the hardship he faced, it would have been significantly easier to get to the point where Harry is at Hogwarts and becomes a wizard. Eliminating his hardship would diminish his greatness though, not to mention make the story much less interesting, so J.K. Rowling clearly had a purpose in detailing Harry’s unfortunate past.

                It seems that in a great number of cases the “mark” for greatness originates from something negative, such as a troubled past, a physical disability, or some other hardship. To achieve greatness, the characters must overcome the hardship. This form of “marking” for future success is very relatable to reality. In the real world, people are admired for overcoming adversity. In literature, there are the other cases of “marked for greatness” in which the “mark” is some trait that did not derive from past adversity, such as a girl with purple hair (I couldn’t think of a better example) or someone being great just because they were born that way. It’s obvious which stories of greatness we prefer, however. Who wants to hear about someone who already has a great life who then, for no reason at all, becomes even more endowed than before? I think that the general consensus is that people like to hear about underdogs who beat the odds and become something wonderful. After all, that’s exactly what people strive to do in the real world; beat the odds of finding success in such a cut-throat and competitive society. The achievement of greatness we see in literature inspires people, particularly because we are all working towards the happy endings that exist in the stories about those “marked for greatness.”

Communion is Everything (Literally)

              Before reading chapter 2 of this book, I had never noticed just how symbolic and meaningful meals were. I knew of course, that eating together is a way of unifying and uniting people, but Foster also brought up some of the more implicit meanings that a meal can hold. For example, Foster’s description of someone not wanting to eat with another person, or someone even trying to kill the person they’re eating with are both circumstances that bear a lot of significance. Both situations show resentment that is extremely deep rooted, and reveal a lot about the sentiments between the people in either case. Refusal to eat with another person shows not only the magnitude of antipathy for another person, but even reveals a quality of honesty in the person doing the refusing, although rather harsh in nature. On the other hand, an attempt to kill another person at a meal by poisoning or similar means reveals the deceitful and manipulative qualities of the person committing the murder; at some point the attempted murderer had to fake kindness to some degree to get their victim to eat with them, instilling a false sense of trust in them. Having said this, behavior at meals gives a great deal of insight into our values and our character. If a person is, for instances, very mannered at the table, putting a napkin in their lap and refraining from putting their elbows on the table, it can be told that they value respect and propriety. It can also be told that they probably do not like people who are loud or rude. The preparation of the meal also gives insight to personality. If a person spends all day cooking a meal themselves, then a hospitable and caring quality can be seen in them. In addition, such diligent preparation of the meal shows that she likely cares deeply for the people she is cooking for, seeing that she or he would likely not have gone to such great efforts to prepare a meal for guests who she harbors resentment for.

              Just as conduct at meals can reveal true personalities, the communion that is shared at meals can also break down bad sentiments between people. The communion in sharing a meal often shows reconciliation, another term inspired by religion, between those at the table. Many movies and TV shows even end with a shot of family or friends laughing and eating dinner together, despite any discord or argument in previous scenes. By this account, it is probably even safe to say that meals shared by loved ones also symbolize commitment and loyalty.

In foster’s description of James Joyce’s story, “The Dead”, in the last paragraph, he states that in death there is a sense of unity and therefore, life itself is a form of communion. In making this claim, it would seem that Foster invalidates all of his previous claims about communion, replacing those statements with the idea that everything we do is some form of communion simply because it involves living. Perhaps what he really means is that in the form of meal or even in the smoking of a marijuana joint, as Foster described in this chapter, is a symbol of the quality of life we all share. If the communion in sharing meals can be viewed as a symbol of life, then this can be related back to the communion received in church. The bread and the wine offered at each mass in church, the communion, represent the receiving of the blood and body of Jesus Christ, which symbolically give us life. In both cases, life is the unifying factor, joining people together to share in not just a meal, but the receiving of life.

(yes, the picture is the cast of Duck Dynasty eating dinner together)