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.