Fences

I enjoyed this week’s selection. I would like to have the chance to see it on stage, if for no other reason than to hear the comedic lines. Those scenes with a little touch of comic relief, where we saw the real relationships between Troy, Bono and Rose were my favorite. Yes, some of the comments were a little ribald, but aside from that, their conversations reminded me of the days when I was a little girl and my dad would hang out with his buddies and joke with one another like that. I thought it was interesting that no matter how much they joked around, Bono was the one who knew Troy the most and he eventually called Troy out for his less-than-perfect behavior.
I always find it sad to read a story where the character has problems due to mistakes his or her parents made. Throughout the story, we see Cory and Troy struggle over the football issue, and it is not until halfway through that we realize that Troy is not only fighting his own personal demons of failure, but also those old sins-of-the-father. After leaving home, he succeeded on his own, and he expects Cory to do the same. He doesn’t want Cory to have a chance to try sports, either because he doesn’t want his son to do better, or because he is afraid he will be hurt. Either way, the pain of past hurts is too much for their relationship.
I was touched, but not surprised, by Rose’s decision to help raise Raynell. She was a kind-hearted, generous, giving woman, who would not over-look a needy child because of her husband’s transgressions. It is her gifts and strengths that made it so unseemly for Troy to have cheated on her in the first place. Personally, I thought it was selfish for Troy to have acted the way he did, and even more so for him to have blamed it on the need to “steal second”. He forgot that he was not the only person in his family, in his marriage. Many people, not just men, forget that fact. Marriage is not easy, Troy found that out- it is full of pressures and bills and all sorts of daily problems; Troy’s solution was not an easy fix, as he quickly found out. Whereas Rose felt the need for a fence, to pull her family closer in, Troy never could finish it, as he felt trapped by it, by family.
The end was my favorite- poor Gabriel, spent the whole story as a minor character, the mental incompetent who talked of heaven and his job as an angel. I was worried when his trumpet wouldn’t work, then overjoyed when he began to dance. As he began to sing, overjoyed that his brother was going to Heaven- his relatives go to embrace him, thinking he was delusional, but no, he pushes them back. His song, his dance- both are his call to St. Peter, and they work… the gates of heaven are opened “as wide as God’s closet”.

Girl

Jamaica Kincaid’s “Girl” has always been a favorite of mine. The words and sentences are mashed together, a seemingly endless list of instructions and guidance with no break or pause. It occurred to me in this reading that a child would interpret it that way— never-ending but well-intentioned advice from parents and others. The mother in this story is trying to make sure she imparts all the useful knowledge to her daughter, like how to do the laundry, the best way to make her clothes and grow vegetables, because those things are basic necessities of life. She tries to teach her valuable social lessons, like how to behave in public, in church, how to dress, etc., because she wants her daughter to be a successful, normal person who can interact with others. She is concerned about the girl’s morality, so she instructs her on her to behave with boys, and how not to be the “slut I know you are bent on becoming”. The mother may have some issues relating to her own past, and that is why she is so fearful for her daughter. She instructs her daughter how to be independent, by telling her how to catch a fish, how to “bully a man”, “how to make ends meet” and how to get rid of an unwanted pregnancy. When the girl expresses doubt about being able to confront a baker, her mother assures her that if she does all that she has been taught to do, she will not be the kind of woman easily intimidated by a baker.
The way the mother gets her point across may be a little odd to some of us, but I think the bottom line is that she loves her child and is doing what she thinks is best to ensure her future as an independent woman. It is clear from the many things listed in the story that much is expected from women in that culture, and all the more important for her to take care of herself and grow up the right way.

Half and Half

I have been trying to figure out what the title “Half and Half” means. The story is almost half about the present situation, the narrator’s divorce, and half about her younger brother’s drowning; her marriage is half and half, she is Chinese, her husband is American, and after the accident, the remaining six children are evenly split by sex- three girls, three boys. Then I realize it’s in the last bit, “fate is shaped half by expectation, half by inattention”. Rose has believed all the time that her mother has given up on faith, the Bible under the table a sure sign to her. Similarly, Rose believes that she caused her brother’s death and the death of her marriage, both due to inattention. When she opens the Bible, still pure white even after all the years under the table leg, she sees her brother’s death written in “erasable pencil” and realizes that although her mother pretends to have abandoned her beliefs completely, she has not. She begins to understand that when “you lose something you love, faith takes over … You have to undo the expectation”. Rose sounds as though she may try to work it out with her husband, believing that it may be time to think for herself, to “pay attention to what [she] lost”.

Shiloh

I have to admit, I really did not find too much here to keep my interest. Possibly the whole “woman seeks to re-invent herself” theme has been so over-done in the last thirty years that I don’t appreciate those who initially did it so well. I appreciated the down-home feel and the wonderful nods to popular culture, many of which probably have gone by unappreciated by younger readers. "Dr. Strangelove" and "Lover Come Back" are two great movies. My aunt had that same gosh-awful fake wood organ. Mushroom soup casseroles. Log home kits. Civil War battleground. It is all familiar, and that does help it feel realistic, but I just don’t care about them. Mabel, the overbearing mother-in-law, is a trouble-maker who inspects her daughter’s closets. How crazy is that? The book said her husband died of a bleeding ulcer- coincidence? I think not. Leroy is so mixed up from not driving his truck anymore, that he spends his time doing crafts and smoking dope. I can’t see this ending well. Norma Jean has lived her life a certain way for so long, she couldn’t handle the change. She wanted something new, she wanted to change her life. We are left to believe that when she married, she had little choice, because she was pregnant- her mother made her get married. But now that she is older, her husband is underfoot all the time, she realizes that they really don’t have that much in common. She is ready to start her life over. While Leroy was concentrating on an “empty house”, she was “flexing her muscles” of independence. It is ironic that their marriage is ending on same battleground where so many died.

Everyday Use

I really liked this story. I found it to be humorous in places, and very relatable in others. The matriarch of the family and younger daughter Maggie await the arrival of Dee, and while they wait we find out that she was not happy to be raised poor and in the country. It sounds as though she may have hated her older house so much that she burned it down, causing Maggie to be burned in the process. Maggie is portrayed as a homebody, perhaps a little bit simpler, but devoted to her mother and the traditional ways. I can’t quite see Dee cooking or gardening. When Dee arrives, she is in traditional African clothing, with a boyfriend who is Muslim (Nation of Islam?) She has changed her name, as it came from “the people who oppressed [her]”. Maggie and Mama found that a little amusing, as she was named after her aunt and grandmother. Although Dee spent her childhood expressing her distaste in everything around her, she is now taking Polaroid pictures of everything she sees, as though it is brand new and freshly authentic. She enthusiastically ate a meal that she probably would’ve turned her nose up at just a few years before, and then went looking for antiques and other things around the house that represented her family history. Things that she never would have touched, much less knew how to use, she wanted to take with her. Maggie knew the history of each piece, who “whittled” what, etc. Then she wanted some of the hand-pieced quilts, quilts that she had previously refused because they were “out of style”. Dee/Wangero only wanted them to hang on the wall, to show them off because of her new interest in her “roots”. Even though Mama had promised them to Maggie when she married, Maggie, used to being overrun by Dee, offered them to her sister. But Mama wasn’t having it- she knew that Dee didn’t really appreciate the quilts; Maggie did. Her compromise to Dee was ignored, and Dee said that the other two women did not understand their heritage- but it was she who didn’t. Mama and Maggie lived their heritage every day, in the sweeping of the yard, in their church, their cooking of certain foods, their quilting using old clothes, using furniture handed down for generations, etc.- that was their heritage. Dee was pretending, and as soon as she tired of it, she would move onto something else, still not understanding or appreciating where or whom she came from.

A Good Man

This was an odd story. The grandmother was not a very likable character, as we see in story— she is a racist and a snob, to put it simply. She has a very selfish streak, and was only concerned about her own pleasures and wants. Just the fact that she brought along a cat when her son didn’t want her to irritated me. She felt as though she had the right to do as she pleased. When the family had an accident, thanks in no small part to the grandmother, her first reaction was to complain of an injury, an attempt to throw anyone off the track of the missing house. She didn’t ask about anyone else, especially the missing mother and baby. Astounding. When they are confronted by the strangers, the grandmother recognizes the “Misfit” and is arrogant (and stupid) enough to tell him so. When it becomes clear that they are in danger, the grandmother pleads not for her family, but for her own life. One by one her family is killed, and yet she still begs for her own life. At that point, I was thinking, why? I would be begging to go with them. In desperation she asks the Misfit to pray, and he tells her of his conflicted religious issues, and in the last minute she reaches out to him like he is her son. The misfit shoots her. I haven’t quite decided what happened here. Was she confused, or did she think that he, even as a sinner was a child of God? I don’t know. The Misfit wasn’t confused by her rhetoric though, as he said in the second to last line, “She would have been a good woman, if it had been somebody to shoot her every minute of her life”. He is saying that not until she was faced with death did she extend any offer of kindness to anyone. I think the title is a bit of a play on words, as it almost should say, “A Good Person is Hard to Find”.

I Stand Here Ironing

“I Stand Here Ironing” is a poignant piece, written obviously by a real-life mother. The narrator in the story, a mother, begins to flash back to memories of her daughter’s life when she is asked to speak to some professional about her— perhaps a school counselor, teacher, we do not know. The mother goes over the whole of the girl’s nineteen years; we see how she begins to blame herself for her daughter’s illnesses, her learning difficulties, and her lack of happiness. The story seems to bring front and center the problems women had with no forced child support system, lack of suitable employment for women and most importantly, serious deficits in quality child care and early childhood programs. The mother was forced to work and although she frequently had no choice, she still regretted and blamed herself for the outcome. When she remarried and had more children, they seemed to thrive and be all that her first child, Emily, was not. In the end, Emily found her own ways to cope, through humor, and finally found her place. I found the beginning interesting, where the mother starting describing her as a “beautiful baby”, then as Emily became sad and ill, she was dark and “foreign looking”, and then at the end, when Emily finally grew into herself and became “Somebody”, she was “so lovely”. I think she must have looked how she felt.

Nikki Giovanni

I enjoyed the very powerful poetry of Nikki Giovanni. I found her work to be full of imagery. The words are very simple, but put together in such a way as to stir emotion and thought. I liked “Nikki-Rosa” the most, and it may sound funny because I am not African-American and obviously cannot relate to her in that way, but I do understand aspects of this poem on a certain level. Growing up in the rural Deep South (like I did) has a lot of negative connotations attached to it. Most people assume just as many things about that type of existence as they might assume about the early childhood of Ms. Giovanni. The lines “everybody is together and you and your sister have happy birthdays and very good Christmases” and “they’ll probably talk about my hard childhood and never understand that all the while I was quite happy” are the most meaningful to me, as they can also be applied to the lives of my family and my friends. We weren’t poverty stricken, but compared to the rest of the world, we weren’t exactly well-off either— it wasn’t a problem. We, and others like us, were fine. Families got together and took care of one another, good times and bad times. By the same token, Nikki Giovanni doesn’t use her childhood to define herself, nor will she let others pigeon-hole her as being deprived of anything just because she is black.

“Poem for Black Boys” was another powerful piece, written apparently in a time of unrest. Although it seems to be telling young black men to accept less than strive for, to forget about being the hero, and run away to the corner and hide, it is actually challenging them. By using humor and sarcasm Ms. Giovanni injects many popular references of the time, including Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. She makes a clever play on the Monopoly game, “DO NOT SIT IN, DO NOT FOLLOW KING, GO DIRECTLY TO STREETS”, calling it “CULLURD” (colored) and saying that it is one game they can win. She advises them to go “natural”, take up vandalism and buy the “Burn Baby Burn” revolution kit, with instructions on how to make Molotov cocktails. Her admonition to the young men is not only a reminder of how easily the world can view them as troublemakers, but also how easy it would be for them to be that way if they make the wrong choices. The last stanza tells them to be their own heroes, and that it is time for them to find their own way.

Serena

Ron Rash’s Serena was a page-turner. Not so much as a thriller, but because as a reader, you became invested in what happened to the characters, especially Rachel and her little boy. The scenery was vivid, and the use of local color and real-life people, places and occurrences helped make everything seem more real. I appreciated the detail of the loggers’ lives and hard work, the matter-of-fact way they went about their jobs. A lot of my family logged “way back when”, and although I’m sure the process was much improved from the time of the story, it was still pretty primitive and dangerous.
Serena was an interesting character, and I could clearly see the allusions to Lady Macbeth as others have mentioned, with her seemingly endless plotting of murders and having others to carry out the evil deeds; Serena differs from Lady Macbeth in that she doesn’t suffer from guilt- she expects it be done, and she gets Pemberton to do her bidding by convincing him that they are building an empire, that he is protecting his future, in essence, being a man. She charms him, and ultimately, all the men around her, in one fashion or another. There is also the touch of the supernatural, although in this case there is Galloway’s blind-but-“seeing” mother instead of the witches of Macbeth.
Rachel is the good mother, the scorned woman who suffers for the love of a man and child. Serena does all she does because she is jealous of Rachel and the power she has over Pemberton- Serena cannot provide Pemberton with a child, and she will not allow anyone else to have what she cannot. If these two were the two mothers before King Solomon fighting over a baby, Rachel would have handed over the baby to Serena to save it, Serena would have surrendered it for cleaving in half.
My favorite part of the book was the loggers and the conversations they had among themselves. They were surprisingly articulate and well-read for loggers, and had quite interesting things to say about the state of the forest and the world to come. They were helpful in the progress of the story, as they helped fill-in the blanks of the action, some of the things that we didn’t read about. The beginning of chapter thirty-five is when Snipe’ crew has cut the last tree; the men are discussing not only how the Sheriff has died, but how Rachel and her baby got away. We see how the men were aware of what was going on and how Galloway was involved. The men survey the wasteland around them, and compare what’s left to the annihilation left after WWI. They accurately talk about their part in the destruction, how they had no choice, “had to feed [their] families”, and the most surprising line comes from the recently silent McIntyre, who says “I think this is what the end of the world will be like”.

Sylvia Plath

Oh no, not Sylvia Plath! The single most depressing and mentally ill poet I have ever read. In “The Bee Meeting” she painfully exudes lack of confidence in herself as a person and a poet. She is afraid of everyone, paranoid almost, feeling naked and alone, an outsider to a foreign world. I can’t decide if she is comparing herself to the old queen bee, about to be replaced, or is she is merely an observer. At the end, she gives the impression of death, her own. Who knows.

In “Daddy”, Plath attempts to end her grief over her father’s death by alternately comparing him to God and the devil, describing their relationship as that of Nazi and Jew, called him a vampire, a bastard, etc. She loved him so much, thought he was almost a god, in fact, that she had to “exorcise” him from her life in this poem by symbolically killing him. Just a little bit weird for me, but then we know that Ms. Plath was tragically unique.

"Sonny's Blues"

Baldwin’s “Sonny’s Blues” covered drug addiction in an interesting way. We forget that drugs are not a new problem. It was interesting to see how the narrator took the news of his brother’s arrest and incarceration. It was as though he couldn’t bear to think of it, didn’t want to get involved- maybe he felt guilty. When he sees Sonny again, old memories and emotions come back, and he remembers his mother asking him to take care of Sonny, to look after him, because his father lost a brother who was much like Sonny. The narrator doesn’t think that Sonny has taken a very responsible way of life, being a musician- he doesn’t understand that Sonny expresses himself that way, just as he found his way through teaching. Their failure to understand each other is one of their biggest problems. As Sonny struggles to stay “clean”, his brother accompanies him to a club to hear him play, where he sees Sonny finally shine in the limelight as the talent that he is. He has accepted Sonny for what he is, and will take him as he is.

Randall Jarrell

These poems were just a little depressing weren’t they? I get the sense that Mr. Jarrell did not have much hope in mankind, or in his own future. But then, he only lived what, fifty years, so perhaps he was born with a built-in sense of life-is-temporary-and-meaningless type of complex. Of the selections given, I would have to pick out “Losses” as the one I “liked” the most. In it the narrator, maybe Jarrell, maybe not, describes his experience in war and how he thinks of death. It feels like he is trying to make sense of it, not just the dying, but the dying for reasons he didn’t particularly understand. Men died in training, men died due to accidents, died because of hazards unforeseen; men barely out of training were called into replace those freshly killed, only to die as well, their bodies soon to “lay among the people [they] had killed and never seen”. Those who made it were given medals; those who didn’t were described as “losses” or “casualties”, never dead. It was hard to reconcile with death if it was never called death I suppose.

A Raisin in the Sun

I greatly enjoyed the movie “A Raisin in the Sun”. Nothing against Diddy, but I watched the original with Sidney Poitier, as it is the version I have seen the most bits and pieces of. I don’t know why I never bothered to sit down and actually see it all the way through- it is such a wonderful, rich story. I must confess that as much as I like Sidney Poitier, I didn’t care for Walter Lee, his character. I understand that Walter was a walking, talking example of frustrated manhood, unable to provide for his family, unable to live out his life’s dreams, never realizing the potential he thought he possessed. But Walter took it further than that- when the insurance check came, he let the hopes and dreams of his family take second seat to those that he saw for himself. He wanted to “be a man”, and to him that meant money. To his father, being a man meant taking care of your family and teaching them right from wrong. To Walter, being a man meant making money any way you could, being a “big shot”, making deals. He wasn’t interested in his family’s wishes. He ignored his wife, he didn’t support his sister in her goal to be a doctor, and he spoke disrespectfully to his mother and all who didn’t agree with his plans.

Some of the most interesting things for me were when Mama spoke about the plant, and how it couldn’t grow without sun; when she told everyone she bought the house, we physically see the exhausted Ruth stretch out towards the ceiling, smiling, thinking of how nice it would be to have a house, just like a plant reaching out towards the sun. When Walter was pleading his case for the liquor store, he said that even when people couldn’t pay their rent, they would always have money for liquor, and later we see him in the bar drinking, when Ruth didn’t have fifty cents to give her son. He spoke of what he knew. When the friend ran off with money, Walter and Mama cry and mourn, not just over the money, but because losing the money is like losing the father all over again; the money was their last link to his memory, it was his last gift to them. I liked what Asagai had to say to Beneatha about her being dependent- they were all dependent on the death of the father for that money. No matter what kind of deal Walter fell into, he could never be a “man” until he stood up and did something for himself. He finally did that at the end when he spoke up for his family, and I like to think of them all living as happily as they could, given the times, and that Beneatha became a doctor and went to Nigeria.

Powerhouse

Eudora Welty’s “Powerhouse” certainly seemed to walk a fine line between fascination with the characters and outright racism. Or maybe, it was less racism than a snapshot of what she was seeing, or interpreting from the time. Either way, I find little to take away from this story aside from the incredible detail that went into the character’s appearances and the settings, and or course, the ending of the story. They are all lushly drawn, larger-than-life characters; Powerhouse in particular is aptly named from his description and abilities.
The realities of real life seem to have followed Powerhouse, as he has received a telegram advising him of his wife’s death. He can’t understand why she has jumped to her death, doesn’t know why another man who he knows has signed the message. The more he talks, the more he feels guilty, then upset. His bandmates encourage him to confront the man, until they all realize without saying so that Powerhouse’s wife is probably not dead, but instead has run off with the man. They go back to work, do not mention it again, afraid to mention it again. The band plays and Powerhouse sings, “Somebody loves me, I wonder who!”, and we are left thinking that his words mean more than just words in a song.

Bigger

I don’t know quite what to write about Wright’s “Native Son”. The excerpt we read showed us a young man who was unsure of himself, afraid of the “white world” and the feelings of insecurity it called up. To Bigger, whites were not to be trusted, at least not fully. He did not like Mary and Jan’s attempts to win him over with their Communist talk; he felt that whites who had once put down blacks “held him up now to look at him and be amused”. To be sure, their alcohol-fueled antics did little to convince him of their sincerity. He was angered by their treatment of him. When he had to take a drunken Mary up to her room, he let the closeness and the excitement of forbidden fruit get to his head- he stole a kiss before her mother could come into the room, revealing his mixed emotions. His terror at being caught by the blind woman led to desperate actions, more primitive response than quick thinking. A pillow to smother her sounds accidentally smothered her to death, and Bigger became the stereotype that his employers, and victim, fought so hard to erase.

Steinbeck

John Steinbeck’s “Flight” was a very colorful and altogether very dark story. It was incredibly descriptive, and it painted a picture that is hard to get out of the mind. I can easily see Pepe, fighting nature and man for his life in those hills. I thought it was interesting how his mother thought him lazy, and that she worried that his knife would get him into trouble. The line, “A boy gets to be a man when a man is needed” really stood out. Pepe grew up in one evening, due to an argument that turned into what we can only assume was murder. His youth and laziness disappeared in a flash, his immaturity displayed in the bad decision to use a weapon.
As he “grew” into his “manhood”, or what he and his mother assumed it to be, he took on the tools of his new role- his father’s rifle, coat, and of course, his father’s knife. Riding off on the family horse, he leaves forever, running off before being caught for his crime. Unfortunately for him, his new “manhood” has not adequately prepared him for the rigors of the outdoors, and one by one, he loses the objects that he took with him, the horse, the coat, the gun and the knife. He becomes more primitive, with no food, no water, living like an animal in the wild, being hunted by an unseen foe. With his enemy near, his injuries seriously infected and his body suffering from thirst, he realizes that the end is near- Pepe says his prayers and stands atop the ridge, placing himself in the clear view of the enemy. Pepe was shot, fell down the mountain, and was covered up by a mountainslide. I think in his own way, he accepted his fate “as a man”.

Langston Hughes

Of Langston Hughes’ poetry, I like “Young Gal’s Blues” the best. The rhythm was steady, the rhymes familiar and easy. You could almost hear a piano or blues guitar in the background. The poem says things that a young girl thinks about- she goes to the graveyard because when she’s dead she wants someone to go there for her; she goes to visit her aunt, because when she’s “old and ugly” she wants someone to go and visit her. She thinks it would be better to be dead than to be old and ugly, and she doesn’t want to be blue (without love), so she begs her “daddy” to keep “a-lovin’ her”.

“On the Road” by Langston Hughes was a very dark and depressing story. I suppose it has lots of meanings, on lots of different levels, but I confess to not getting most of them. The story appears to be about a homeless black man as he searches for shelter and food. He is cold, wet, and hungry, seemingly oblivious to the snow, even though it pelts down on him. He is a black man in the cold, dark night surrounded by white snow. It’s almost as if the snow is all white people, crushing his spirit, keeping him in the cold. He didn’t seem to notice the very thing that was controlling his world, or maybe he was ignoring it. After the altercation with the police, he lost consciousness, and he envisioned he was walking with Jesus. Perhaps his vision of Jesus was a manifestation of a real desire for salvation, or merely just one of the last images he saw before losing awareness. He felt real satisfaction at his “rescue” of Jesus, and probably felt like he had really accomplished quite a feat by pulling down the “white” church, the one that would not help him. I liked the description of the sound of his steps in the snow. Before, the snow covered him, made him cold and wet; after he “pulled the church down” he “crunched” the snow with his steps. He dominated it; he left marks in it wherever he went. When he awoke in his cell, cold and wet once again, he realized that he did not, after all, pull down the church. He threatened to break down the door, and then wondered aloud where Jesus might be, because he wasn’t there with him now.

That Evening Sun

“That Evening Sun” by Faulkner was a different type of story. It certainly has some provocative themes for a story written so long ago, but then each generation thinks it is the first to think of such things. Nancy is person with some problems, not the least of which is apparently a drug and alcohol problem. Nancy’s “problems” are probably also the basis of her altercation with one church-going Mr. Stovall, the latter owing her money for services unmentioned but ultimately assumed by all. Through the narrator, the child of the family that Nancy works for, we learn that Nancy had been arrested and has unsuccessfully tried to kill herself- we also find out that Nancy is pregnant, and that her common law husband is not the father. Her husband, Jesus, leaves her, and Nancy falls apart. Her guilt and fear drive her crazy, and she begins to fear for her life. She thinks that Jesus is waiting for her, planning to kill her. The father of the family and the children walk her home one night, as Nancy is afraid of the dark. The mother is upset that the father would choose to Nancy’s safety over her. Eventually, Nancy is so upset that she winds up sleeping on a pallet on the children’s floor, talking about her death. She is afraid to go home, afraid that Jesus might be in the ditch waiting for her. The family tolerates Nancy and her drama for a while, and then they become impatient with her. They think her fears are “nonsense”, in part due to her dire predictions and also due to the fact that she is a black woman, a servant in their house. She was not seen as being worthy of their attention for very long. The wife especially was jealous and resentful of the attention shown to Nancy. The children and the family do not seem to understand that Nancy’s life is in danger from her “husband”, or that she served any purpose greater than doing their laundry and cooking. As the family left her cabin for the last time, Nancy had resigned herself to her probable fate, sitting in the dark she feared. The family was talking, joking, already dismissing what they had seen and heard as nonsense. The narrator wondered who would do their laundry, as if to say, if Nancy does die, what will we do? Their only concerns were for themselves, not for their servant.

Francis Macomber

I have never been a huge fan of Hemingway. I am not sure why, I just don’t care for the way the characters are drawn, or the way things are described- just a little too realistic, too unpleasant for my tastes. I know I am terribly picky about what I read, but that’s just the way it is. I never saw the joy in reading something you didn’t like.

Anyway, this story seemed to be about the coming-of-age of poor Francis Macomber, the long-suffering rich boy with the heartless trophy wife. Unfortunately, he grew up too late, as he was already married to a cruel woman and found himself near the midpoint of his life, wracked with fear and indecision. The safari was probably a chance for him to impress his wife by shooting animals, and when he failed at that, no doubt not the first the time, he realized that she might leave him. He no longer felt secure in her faded beauty and his vast wealth. When his wife slept with the hunter, he further felt further emasculated and humiliated, as was his wife’s intention. She told him he was a coward, and she wanted to punish him. Francis found redemption in the killing of the water buffalos. He gained a new attitude, seemed to “find himself”, and showed off a new-found bravery. He was actually happy and ready to take on the world. His wife, on the other hand, watched his transformation warily, with dread. I think she saw her husband become content and confident right in front of her eyes, and she began to be very afraid for her future. After all, she couldn’t very well expect to act the way she was used to acting, or stay married long after the way she had behaved. Her world was about to change. I don’t know if she planned to shoot him, but maybe when she began to shoot at the charging buffalo her mind just snapped, and it happened. Self-preservation. Just like the wounded lion who will attack to save itself, Francis Macomber’s human trophy killed him.

Trifles

Wow. Where has this been hiding? I can’t believe I haven’t read this play before. It was fantastic; so simple and spare, yet it said so many things. I think this play touched me because I am a bit of a homebody, and I have jars of fruit on my shelves, I make bread, and I sew- all that “old-lady stuff”. No, my husband doesn’t terrorize me, which is lucky for him. I liked this story and the way women made short work of figuring out what took place in the unhappy house, while the men marched around, criticizing the housewife’s housekeeping and making fun of the women’s “worrying over trifles”. It was their taking care of the “trifles”, the little details of the household and the womanly chores, that helped them understand Mrs. Wright’s motive for killing her husband. The men would never understand that a woman who could take such care with a complicated quilt would never randomly kill someone. A woman who took great pains to put up summer fruit and make fresh bread would never plan a murder, leaving her house in disarray for others to find. Only extreme circumstance could bring someone to murder, and the women stumbled across it. While murder cannot be condoned, the women felt like they were justified in hiding the box that held the dead bird, the motive for the crime. In their eyes, not only was Mr. Wright guilty of taking away the life of his wife’s bird, he also took away her life, keeping her away from other people, taking her youth away, keeping her trapped in a cage just like the bird he eventually killed. They felt guilty for not helping her, reaching out, and maybe in some way, they felt like they were making up for their own crimes by helping her.

A Wagner Matinee & Paul's Case

“A Wagner Matinee” was a bit odd to me. I kept thinking I had missed out on some monumental reference to the narrator’s childhood, but no, there were just the brief mentions of this and that, here and there that let us know that he was raised by his aunt and uncle out in Nebraska. I get the impression it is a place that he does not ever want to go back to. In fact, he has a peculiar attitude about his aunt; it seems almost as if she doesn’t seem to measure up to his standards. He makes remarks that sound as though he doesn’t think she’s all there. He wonders if she will be able to understand the world that she has left. I wondered why she didn’t whop him one. He did care for his aunt, to be true, and I appreciate the fact that he cared enough to take her to the concert. She seemed to enjoy hearing Wagner, and he was shocked to find out that she had heard some of it before. She became emotional with each piece, at times working her fingers as though playing along with the music. At the end, when everyone was leaving, she said “I don’t want to go…but I suppose we must”. She knows that it’s time to not just leave the concert hall, it’s time to go home, back to Nebraska, back to the work and the hard life.

“Paul’s Case” was not a favorite read this week. But, I have to say, it did stir up some questions. I realize Paul had an unrealistic vision for his life that was unattainable at that particular time. His life stood out in clear contrast to the gray, orderly life of his family. He wanted to be “Somebody”, and he wanted it without having to earn and education or work. (These days he would probably be a reality tv personality.)But above all of this, two things stood out to me- 1) Paul seemed to have some sort of mental imbalance, and 2) Paul may have had some unrecognized sexual identity issues. (no, those two things do not have anything to do with one another ) I really questioned what I was reading, and went searching to see if anything similar turned up. I was surprised to see that the possible latent homosexuality is a very commonly held idea with this story, but even more surprised to see that the mental imbalance theory is not mentioned very much. I feel that Paul’s problems are serious, not just those of a spoiled youth. In the end of the book, he has a hang-over, and experiences “one of those fateful attacks of clear-headedness that never occurred except when he was physically exhausted and his nerves hung loose”. It sounds almost as though he is a manic-depressive/bi-polar type person. Any homosexuality that may or may not been part of his makeup probably only contributed to his depression, as it could not have been very easy to live with, or even easy to understand as a young person in that day and age.

Zora Neale Hurston

Zora Neale Hurston was completely new to me, and I am glad to have had the chance to read some of her work. “How it Feels to be Colored Me” was a very thought-provoking, although short. It really captured the thoughts and feelings of a young girl/young lady who did not think of herself in terms of color or race until confronted with the views of the rest of the world. Even then, she did not become a victim of the time, she relished her uniqueness. My favorite line was “No, I do not weep at the world— I am too busy sharpening my oyster knife.” For those who aren’t quite up on oysters, they require a bit of work to get open, but once inside, you have a yummy, briny treat, and hopefully a pearl. I think she was saying she didn’t have time to cry because she was too busy trying to make something of herself and her life- trying to find the best out of all of it. I think that’s a message we can all appreciate.
In “The Gilded Six-Bits” we see a couple who is happy with what they have, living a simple life. Joe is a hardworking man, and Missie May loves him, but it seems as though he has taught her to expect some sort of money as part of love and affection. Missie May is a simple woman, she loves her husband, but she loved gold more, at least momentarily. Not until after her infidelity did she realize how much she loved her husband. Joe did not leave Missie May, which confused her and made her feel guilty. I think he loved her so much, he was willing to give her time to realize her mistake, and to give himself time to heal. When Joe laughed at catching them together, I got the impression that he found it all rather ironic- the man he had been admiring was with his wife- it was almost like he thought he deserved it somehow, or should have seen it coming and didn’t. Either way, I am glad that they both found a way to work through it all. Love can do that, sometimes, if you want it to badly enough.

Robert Frost

This week we look at the poems of Robert Frost. I have not had much exposure to Frost in the past, what little I’ve had I found interesting but not quite my “cup of tea” to be honest. It was nice to dig a little deeper into his work, and find out a little bit more about him and his ideology.
I picked out three poems that stood out to me. Most of his poems, the longer ones, seemed to be more like narrative verses, almost as though they belonged in a passage of short story. Too short for a story, too long for a poem, for my taste, although the descriptive elements were amazing. I preferred “Fire and Ice”, a shorter piece compared to some of his others. In it he talks about the end of the world, and how it might end, and what might bring it about- desire (fire) or hate (ice). He is of the opinion that the world will end in one sin or another, and he puts himself in the “desire” group, saying he has “tasted of” it before. I also liked “Nothing Gold Can Stay” which I take as symbolizing the fleeting nature of new spring, but also maybe youth, or beauty itself, maybe new love as well. “The Road Not Taken” is a familiar poem to many, frequently recited to remind us to heed our inner voice, be independent and make the right choices. Personally, I’ve never really known if he made the right choice, or if he regretted his choice; to me it’s a bit ambiguous. He says he took the road less traveled, but how did he know? In the middle two sections he said they were worn about the same, and were equally covered in leaves. Either way, it’s a lovely poem, and it does make you think.

The Other Two

Unlike Crane’s poetry and story “The Open Boat”, Edith Wharton’s “The Other Two” illustrates how nature comes out in our emotions, and how forces beyond our power, like society (and marriage, depending on the time period), can have absolute control over us. The husband in this story started out being more than a little confident, happy with his choice of wife, despite her twice-divorced status. He seemed to be proud of the way she didn’t care what others thought about her, and he was especially happy with the way she cared for her child, but not overly so. When her first husband entered the picture again, he was not thrilled, and neither was she, but he told her not to worry, and was happy to see that she “obeyed”. He saw her as an object, and the idea of her first husband’s visit threatened him. Soon he met up with her second husband, and he began to think about his wife’s earlier marriages. When he saw her later, she did not seem to be as charming as she once had been to him. But then, he took in her beauty, and “yielded to the joy of possessorship”- he was filled with a sense of ownership for her. At least until she mistakenly made the same drink she used to make for her ex-husband.
As Waythorn began to have more dealings with his wife’s past husbands he began to think less and less of her; the fact that she “took her change of husbands like a change of weather” bothered him immeasurably. To him, she was “as easy as an old shoe”, one that had been worn by too many feet. She was no longer special, no longer just his. He felt like part-owner in something he didn’t know the first thing about.
Alice used the only thing available to her- marriage- to move up the social food chain. Each time, she moved farther up, until she married Waythorn. She did so without regrets on the surface, but in shadowed looks and veiled comments, Alice’s unhappiness is seen at various times. She is a victim of the time, in a way. She may have found happiness with Waythorn, she seems happy with him most of the time, but her inability to freely express herself and her thoughts never lets us know. Even in the last scene, when she is confronted by all three of her husbands, she has to conform to social conventions and be polite, regardless of what she really may have wanted to do. Even in this day and age, that would be have been an awkward situation; I can’t imagine how crazy it would have been back then.

The Open Boat

This was not my favorite piece this week. I understand that it has significance, and I do appreciate the imagery, but again, not my kind of story. I enjoyed Stephen Crane’s poetry- short, dark, ironic and to the point. I could see his naturalist tendencies at work in this story, as the four men battled the sea for their lives. Trapped in their little dinghy, they relied on each other to survive, taking turns rowing their small boat through the rocking waves. Crane makes the sea almost come alive, it is so aggressive and seemingly bent on their destruction. In section VI, the narrator makes the observation that to have worked so hard to survive and then to still be drowned by the “seven mad gods” of the sea was surely an injustice- he realizes that nature does not value him or his life. He is insignificant. Much like the poem “A Man Said to the Universe”, the universe feels no obligation to the men in the boat. In section VII, the correspondent sees the tall, deserted wind-mill on shore, and it causes him to think about nature. To him, nature no longer seemed brutal, it was unfeeling, indifferent, uncaring. It gave him the opportunity to see his life and all of its mistakes, and he wished for the chance to repair them. At the end, the overturned men are swimming for shore, and nature’s unpredictability is shown. As a wave flings the correspondent towards the shore in a “miracle of the sea”, the cook and the captain survive, but the oiler apparently drowns.

The Poems of Stephen Crane

I barely remember our high school reading of “The Red Badge of Courage”, and that is probably a good thing, because I didn’t want anything to interfere with my enjoyment of Crane’s poetry. I never knew there were poems, and I was pleasantly surprised to read these. They are short, but certainly not sweet, and in my opinion, they are petite masterpieces of the naturalism and honesty he tried to portray in his work.

They are very dark and sometimes a little scary, but then, they are intended to show how man is often just part of the world, often a victim, having no more importance than anything else in it. My favorite is “A Man Said to The Universe”, in which a man finds out that he is not important just because he exists; the universe owes him no obligation because of his existence. It does serve to remind all of us that we are all mere mortals on this rock and we should be mindful of our place; we are no more important than anyone or anything else simply because “we are”. I also liked “A Man Feared That He Might Find an Assassin”. One man fears he might find his killer, one fears he might find his victim. We know that one will find the other first, and so do they. It is very short, very dark, and very thoughtful. Who was the most fearful? In a way, I think the assassin was the most fearful, because he would have to live with himself and the sin of his misdeeds afterwards. That kind of guilt twisting through you, I think it might last longer than the quick death of an assassin.

The Yellow Wallpaper

I first read this short story last summer, in American Women’s Studies. It was, and still is, a great study of the emerging voice of female writers of the late 1800’s. It, like so many others we have read, speaks loudly of the “unheard” woman, who desperately seeks self-expression, but finds herself at odds with an overbearing patriarchal society. Like “The Awakening”, Charlotte Perkins Gilman’s tale is one of a heroine who felt suppressed by her husband and society as a whole. Unlike Chopin’s Edna, we feel more emotion for and from the narrator in the “The Yellow Wallpaper”; the horror experienced by the narrator is felt by us.
We feel for this character, we sympathize with her plight, even though we do not entirely understand her circumstance. Did her problems begin with the birth of her child, or was she perhaps a bit “nervous” already? Certainly being left on her own with nothing to occupy her mind, her husband’s best medical advice, was the worst thing to do, as it just fed into her anxiety and frail mental state. Her hallucinations of the women trying to get out of the wallpaper seem to echo her own inner desire to get out of the room, out of the stifling conditions she felt. As she “crossed over” and became completely delusional to the point of thinking that she was the one trapped in the wallpaper all along, we begin to see how desperate her situation is. In fact, we see that it is she, from the start that has destroyed the room. Her husband did appear to care for her, and in his ignorance, tried to provide her a place to recuperate; he acted out of the best advice of the time, as foolish and backwards as it was. Her stepping across him in the last line as she made her rounds of the room probably served as some sort of triumph for her, as to her she had conquered her captor.

Edna's Awakening

This week brought us some very interesting reading. Kate Chopin should be familiar to most people in the class, from “The Story of an Hour”, about an unhappy housewife who gets a glimpse of happiness when she hears of her husband’s “death”. In my high school in Louisiana, we read this story in 12th grade, although I have to admit I forgot just about everything but the ending. My preferred Chopin story is “Desiree’s Baby”, (HUM 122- Southern Culture), about an abandoned baby girl who was raised in a prominent family, who grows up and marries a wealthy plantation owner, and then has a baby who is obviously not 100% white. Her husband accuses her of being non-white, and in shame she kills herself and the baby. (remember the time period) The story goes on to a shocking ending, and it only compounds the avoidable tragedy.
I can see why “The Awakening” is both her best and the most controversial story. It delves into the subject of women who feel incomplete and stifled by the constraints of marriage, like the “The Story of an Hour”, while it also tapped into the psychological study of depression and inability to cope, and how they link to suicidal tendencies, like in “Desiree’s Baby”. I felt like Edna’s character had some flaws, but perhaps many of her problems could have been avoided by steering clear of marriage, at least marriage to someone she did not love. I realize our notions are not the same as those our ancestors had 110 years ago, but it would have solved at lot of her problems. She loved her children, but had she been childless, she would have been happy. She was a person who suddenly found herself incomplete- not happy with her marriage, her responsibilities or her lack of vocation. While I don’t necessarily agree with her method to rediscovery, I can sympathize with the lack of direction and choices given to women of the day. In her mind, death was the only way she could prevent her husband, her children, even her lovers from subjecting her to their will; not only is that sad, but to me, it speaks of a certain level of selfishness. Just my two cents.

Uncle Remus and Brer Rabbit- how they do take me back. I realize it’s a rarity, but I grew up hearing these stories. I am from the Deep South, went to a small country school, so small that our teachers were our neighbors and/or our relatives. When a teacher needed a substitute, she more than likely called Miss Bernice. We all loved Miss Bernice, because she told us stories all day long. She was into her late seventies when she stopped working, but she was as clear as a bell when she told us about Brer Rabbit and the other animals, or if we were older, Laura Ingalls and her family.
It wasn’t until I was older that I realized that the initial setting of those stories was not politically correct by today’s standards, and I completely understand why… but at no time when we heard them were we ever told anything about slavery or anything along those lines. Uncle Remus was just a man to us. We liked the stories for what they were, and because we spoke “a little country” ourselves, we didn’t think anything about the animals doing it. They were "our" Aesop’s Fables, much more relevant to us because we could “see” that rabbit in a briar patch, “hear” the familiar twang in the voices.
"Free Joe" was a completely different type of story that I had not read from Harris before. It was a moving piece, one that really seemed before its time. It reminded me of Twain’s writing, in that it had a message about slavery not being all that people thought it was; it offered up what had to be new and certainly unpopular ideas. Free Joe’s freedom brought him no measure of happiness, as he was an island unto himself. Other slaves did not want him around, because they were jealous, and because their owners feared his influence. Wealthy whites did not want him around because it was the South, and they had no use for him. Joe had to bend his pride and talk to the only people who would have him, the “poor white trash”, those who he would have never spoken to when he was a slave. He did so only because he was desperate. I felt sorry for Joe, because he lived most of life under the rule of someone else, and when finally got his freedom, he didn’t have the faculties, or the wherewithal, to do anything with it. He was so consumed with concern and love for his wife, that he died waiting for her.

Bierce's "Owl Creek Bridge"

Wow. Very dark writing for 1890, I really didn’t expect it. Of course, I didn’t see the end of the “Sixth Sense” coming either, so there you go. It was not my favorite of this week’s list. The first part of the first section, on the railroad bridge was so full of detail about the planks and the soldiers, etc., it was a little dizzying. Too much. Then it settled into the hanging, and his falling…
The second section took a step backwards in time, and that’s where we see why the man, Peyton Farquhar, is being hanged in the first place. He was tricked by a spy into trying to “interfere with the railroad”. His wife is seen, and we see that his life is a very comfortable one, as a wealthy planter. Part III flashes back to the present and Peyton seemingly falls to his death, only to have the rope break. He struggles with the bindings, escapes, and is shot at by the troops. He makes his way through the water and eventually the woods until he safely home. His neck is in pain, his throat is swollen, but he is home. His lovely wife is waiting for him… beautiful wife, home at last, all that he has waited for is there, and he just has to reach out...
Snap! Peyton had the longest and weirdest “life-flashed-before-my-eyes” moment ever recorded. Very odd, and I suppose very influential on the numerous other books and movies that have come out in the last 120 years. It is an interesting concept, what we think and hear and feel in those seconds before we die.

Tennessee's Partner

“Tennessee’s Partner” was a great piece. I could definitely see the influence on the whole western genre, both novels and movies. I was a little surprised at the tale of the wife, and her following indiscretions with Tennessee, et al, especially considering the date of the story. Trouble is as trouble does they say, and Tennessee gets into trouble when he attempts to rob someone. When Tennessee is at his trial before his peers, Tennessee’s Partner burst in with a bag of Tennessee’s Partner seems like a simple man, quiet and uncomplicated, and his partner, Tennessee seems like a trouble-maker.
Trouble is a trouble does, as they say, and when Tennessee attempts to rob someone, he hunted down and hauled before a jury of his peers. Tennessee’s Partner interrupts the proceeding with a simple declaration, “It ain’t for me to say anything agin’ him”. I think he was hurt that his partner tried to rob someone rather than come to him for help, but he was not willing to see him die for it. He had forgiven him for the wife incident, and he already stated that they didn’t always agree, but he was willing to put down all the money he had to free his partner. In his mind, the justice system had acted just like Tennessee- they hunted him and caught him, just as he did his victim; in Tennessee’ Partner’s eyes, they should be equal, and the money would everything over the top. He did not understand that gold and money were not acceptable in such an offense, and it was actually seen as a bribe- it hurt his friend’s chances.
There was much care taken to prepare the coffin for Tennessee, and Tennessee’s Partner wanted others to share in the funeral experience, even if he didn’t exactly shout it. He was a simple man, and it was probably difficult for him to bury his friend and contemplate life without him. The end was sad, but fitting, as they were “partners” once again, meeting together on their journey.

Editha

I found Howell’s Editha to be disturbing, and when thought of in a more timely setting, strangely unsettling. We see Editha in love, with a man who had once considered the ministry. Poor Editha is concerned that her suitor has not properly earned her affections, because she gave them away, as she said without “thinking”. When she encouraged him to go to war, she did so in the hopes that he will be a Hero, not only for her but for God and country too. She knows that he does not believe in war, and uses the “order of Providence” to try and persuade him, and perhaps herself, that this war is right. When he deferred to her will, she was overcome with emotion, not by his sacrifice, but by the fact that he humbled himself to her. Her letter was foolishness, a girl’s emotions and pride all twisted up by the news of the day. Instead of being a true love, she convinced someone who didn’t believe in war to go off in participate in it.
The trip to George’s mother was sad. I think Editha was mourning George as school-girl would, still not comprehending that he only went because of her. She was wallowing in her grief as only a Victorian widow could. Meeting the mother was a wake-up call that she desperately needed, but only slightly answered— she never thought she was sending him to his death, she just thought he would come back a hero; she did not understand the mother’s relief that George didn’t kill any other innocent boys like himself. I think Editha was spoiled and far removed from the normal world, and had no sense of reality in sending out the man she was supposed to love to face the horrors of war. A dedicated sense of pride and nationalism is wonderful thing, but it shouldn’t overshadow personal conviction and moral stance, nor should it stand in the way of true love.

Emily Dickenson

Well, I have say that I truly admire the imagination and creativity in Miss Emily Dickinson. She must have felt strange and out-of-place knowing that she had that ability, and no real outlet for it. I recognize her extraordinary gifts and talents, but I have to say, her poems do not speak to me. It may be because I am more of a "left-brain" person and her poems are very free and almost abstract in a way, compared to more formal works. I do not like the irregular rhythms and near rhymes, even when I do find a rhythm in a longer poem, there is always one line that is off, and it drives me crazy.
There are some poems that start off so beautifully, but then end oddly or seem to go nowhere, such as number 670. Perhaps I am just too dense to understand, I don't know. I admire her talent for seeing what I cannot, and for putting into words what others appreciate. I liked the beginnings and the idea of 732: "She rose to his requirement", "To take the honorable work/Of woman and wife", but it felt like ended oddly to me. She seems to have a certain penchant for death, and with her history of staying at home, it seems like she suffered from some form of depression, like so many writers and poets. For example, no. 49,death; 67, death; 241, death; 258, death; 280, death; 287, 303, 341, 414, 449, 465, 510, and so on... all about death. Truly depressing if you ask me!

A White Heron

Of this week’s readings, Sarah Orne Jewett’s “White Heron” was perhaps my favorite. It was a short story, and yet it was full of so much. Jewett’s ability to describe her characters and the region was wonderful, and I truly felt like I was there. I am familiar with salt-water marshes (although not those in the Northeast) and I could almost smell the brackish water. I loved the description of the obstinate old cow, Mistress Moolly. My own grandmother had a cow just like her.
The author was able to write with great detail about the girl’s thoughts and emotions. We are very happy when we learn the young Sylvia has come away from the dirty city to the beautiful country to live with her grandmother. The attention to detail in the description of the landscape and the birds and other animals was amazing. Each bird call or flutter of moth wings caught my attention. The grandmother and young man were not captured in such detail; Sylvia is the star of this story, rightfully so. She decided to help the young bird-watcher, and to her dismay, she saw her bird-friends go to their deaths. At his request Sylvia finally located the White Heron, and along the way somehow found herself, as she stood atop the tall tree. When she came down, and went back to the cottage, Sylvia found she was unable to give up the secret that would mean the heron’s death— because she felt like a part of the forest, like she finally belonged.

A New England Nun

I found Mary Freeman’s story “A New England Nun” quite interesting. I thought the characters were very practical and realistic, as the short biography of her suggested they might be. After reading that she was remembered for recording the old ways of New England villages, I started the story thinking it would be rich in scenery and other regionally inspired imagery, but in truth it did not seem to be any different than any other rural setting. I appreciate the way she took such care in the intricate details with which Louisa Ellis went about her daily routines; I could almost see her as she sat at her window, sewing her seams and watching the laborers.
Louisa Ellis had a fully established set of routines that made up her days. Her good china, her sewing- with the spools aligned just so, her neatness in gathering currants— she had a ritual of life, almost a religion of solitude that had come about in the time that she had been alone. She needed her space; she needed her things about her to be in order. The thought of Joe intruding into her neat and ordered existence seemed to be upsetting for her. The story is called “A New England Nun”, and we know a nun to be one who not only forsakes marriage, but also dedicates her life to service and devotion. In the end, we see Louisa Ellis willingly give up marriage, partly for Joe and his love for Lily, but also because she knew that she was devoted to solitude and serenity. She could only be happy and satisfied in her little house, with no one to intrude upon her, no one to interrupt her sewing and dusting.

Huck Finn

After almost thirty years, I have finally finished the Adventures of Huckleberry Finn. What started as a rainy weekend project was never finished; my middle-school attention span could not hold out against the dialects, the constant stream of characters, etc. I gave up. My class did take a field trip to see the movie, but the reels were put in incorrectly, so everything was out of sequence!
I have read other Twain works over the years, and must admit that my distaste for heavy dialects in written form remains, but I did enjoy finishing Huckleberry’s story. I like the wit and humor in Mark Twain’s writing, and especially the deftness with which he manages to insert it into the story. Anytime a person boasts of his own intelligence while appearing to have none, I’m a fan.
Twain made clear his views on slavery and those who believed in it; by making those characters “dumber” than they thought they were, he hoped to make us see that their beliefs and actions are the same- not as smart as they appear to be. Huck spoke to and about Jim as an inferior, but we see many times that Huck did not know what he was talking about- grudgingly, Huck began to see that Jim was smarter than he thought. Huck was not clear on religion, because he was not given a clear vision of it, only “do this” and “don’t do that”; Twain used Huck’s adventures and subsequent spiritual growth on the river to show that religious training is not the only way to morals and values. I feel that Twain had much to say on the subject of anti-slavery, by giving Jim a big heart, and making him so fatherly to Huck- Huck would not have survived without him. But it seems that he was either too close to the time period or perhaps not far enough away to be completely objective. While I know his choice of words was completely within the context of the time period, I feel like he often treated Jim like a comedic character. I did not enjoy the last part of the story, as it felt like Huck had completely regressed into a minor character in another book; all of the steam and momentum that had built up was lost for me.
The river and the outdoors will always be a symbol of freedom; while not as bad as Jim being trapped by slavery, Huck felt confined when he was being “civilized”, and only when they were out and on the river did they feel free. At the end of the story, when Jim was finally free and he once again had a family to claim his own, Huck was searching out for wide spaces again, for freedom.

First Post

Hi everyone! I am looking forward to this class, although I am a bit afraid of the amount of writing we have to do. I know, I know, it's part of it, but my brain just takes a while to adjust! I am an avid reader, when I don't have tons of school work to read, that is.

I have what could be described as eclectic reading tastes. I read just about everything but westerns and "bodice-ripper" romances!

I grew up in a reading household, and for the most part, my children (now mostly grown) are readers as well. I am pleased to say that they are also extremely articulate and they are very good writers- reading definitely pays off!

What I have seen so far of the reading list is intriguing; some of it is familiar, some of it is daunting. Either way, I can honestly say I won't be bored! Good luck!