<rss version="2.0" xmlns:atom="http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom">
  <channel>
    <title>Comments by Brian Hanides</title>
    <description>Most recent public comments by Brian Hanides</description>
    <link>https://nowcomment.com/users/16927</link>
    <atom:link rel="self" type="application/rss+xml" href="https://nowcomment.com/users/16927/comments"/>
    <item>
      <title>Dream symbolism simplifies the inhumanities of displacement and war through one explanation: animalism.</title>
      <link>https://nowcomment.com/documents/36344?scroll_to=408123</link>
      <guid isPermaLink="true">https://nowcomment.com/documents/36344?scroll_to=408123</guid>
      <description>This paragraph caught my eye virtually immediately. Upon first read, it is typically what an author chooses to say in imagery that sticks out in such a pertinent fashion. There is a certain amount of close reading to be done here, whether one wants to focus on the violence with which the narrator feels jerked into a vision after &quot;[sinking] toward slumber&quot; or the domestic entity of their paternal grandmother surrounded by a gloomy scene.

Perhaps the most personally and historically part of this section is the transformation, however; antithetically reminiscent of Franz Kafka's &quot;Metamorphosis,&quot; the shape-shifting sharp crow caws into a &quot;cacophony of human voices&quot; (beautifully, hesitantly worded) brings life to feral cries. This occurrence is related to the passing-by of a deceased family member's soul,  from the &quot;loved ones on the other side celebrating her in a clamor of elated welcomes.&quot; 

Some argue that war and conflict are unavoidable, a part of our &quot;human nature&quot; as creatures who have inevitably evolved from animals. Animals--who we try so desperately to other as lesser than--are typically caged, consumed, or studied at a disadvantage along this echelon of existence. A crow could be read through its darkness, its state as an omen, but in this paragraph, its closeness and relation to the cries of humans brings the chaos of war and displacement together with death as acts of the animal.</description>
      <pubDate>Wed, 11 Nov 2015 11:19:52 -0500</pubDate>
    </item>
    <item>
      <title>This approach is beautifully critical of American exceptionalism... and the imperialism that comes along with it.</title>
      <link>https://nowcomment.com/documents/36342?scroll_to=403377</link>
      <guid isPermaLink="true">https://nowcomment.com/documents/36342?scroll_to=403377</guid>
      <description>We are most certainly not in an era of post-colonialism but rather of seemingly infinite coloniality; everywhere we turn, we see the effects of retired imperialism, and how such colonialism carries on both physically and fiscally. The critique of hypocrisy and of lacking empathy that follows this sentence is crucial to proving the idea of perceptual American exceptionalism true. &quot;Patriotism&quot; (see: nationalism) has left citizens of the United States with a lingering air of superiority. 

In this sentence in particular, I find the use of &quot;but&quot; rather powerful in a close reading. The sun sets in the South China Sea, and that sea does lie east of Vietnam. A simple &quot;which&quot; could have sufficed, but I am convinced that the word &quot;but&quot; was chosen for a reason. Nguyen's powerfully contrasts matter-of-fact nature with the same backwards logic utilized in critiquing American exceptionalism. The American soldier &quot;walks into the sunset with a young Vietnamese orphan in need of his paternal benevolence.&quot; There is both a patriarchal foundation and an agenda of American exceptionalism left lingering before this sentence, which--while simple--is powerful, and certainly felt lasting.</description>
      <pubDate>Sat, 07 Nov 2015 15:31:19 -0500</pubDate>
    </item>
  </channel>
</rss>
