Sunday, March 29, 2009
Free Write (Late my apologies)
So far the Great Gatsby (although a bit confusing) has been a great book. All the characters are well thought out, and Fitzgerald provides enough background and realism to allow for investment in those characters. The vocabulary is superb and I even plan on harvesting some of it for my own works later. Another trait I admire is the superb philosophy. The "pretty little fool" line is still stuck in my head. I'm proud to admit that The Great Gatsby had probably the biggest impact ending I've ever read. It was unexpected and rocked many people to their core, and I must admit for a book that was mandatory reading, it actually recieved conversation time...outside of english class. And that alone is a huge feat
Sunday, March 15, 2009
Gatsby Journal Of Gatsby-ness. Subsection 1 Part 1 (Beta)
After reading three chapters of Fitzgerald's work, The Great Gatsby, I discovered that not all literature that is analyzed far and wide by high school students can be bad. In fact I found one of my favorite quotes in the very first chapter. “I hope she'll be a fool—that's the best thing a girl can be in this world, a beautiful little fool.” Most of the first three chapters are satirical looks at the rich. Lavish parties, limitless booze, money abound... but turns it on it's head when it shows you these people have just as many (if not more) problems than "everyone" else. Tom's affair being a great example of that. The East and West Egg ect. have been explained and all the groundwork for the book has been laid... I will enjoy reading further. Also I wonder how Nick's relationship with Jordan has any chance of progressing as she is a dishonest person... a quality Nick scorns claiming he is one of the most honest people around.
Sunday, March 8, 2009
American Poetry Supermarket
http://gawow.com/roethke/poems/98.html
The link above contains a variety of my poet, Roethke's, works.
1. Roethke wrote during the time of the Great Depression, which, obviously, hindered his quality of life. However the Depression did in fact give him the ability to explore a different mindset for his writing , which he found very useful for his trade
2. Rhetorical aspects... for that i will be analyzing Elegy For Jane.
Great use of figurative language, with similes and metaphors abound, this poem is about unrequited love. Keeping a steady meter, Roethke kept his usual depressing tone as he told of a beautiful maiden who had the best of times and the worst of times. Unfortunately he must reminisce at her tomb stone.
3. As I stated above Elegy for Jane is now my favorite poem. Beautifully written and not too long, it is a poem that definitely will stay in your mind long after you read it.
4. Other than the fact that Roethke is truly American, I feel his themes are American. He speaks about topics such as child abuse that I feel other poets of the time would feel would be too tender to pick at. ALso, being a professor from Harvard, Theodore Roethke uses an extensive and enjoyable English vocabulary
The link above contains a variety of my poet, Roethke's, works.
1. Roethke wrote during the time of the Great Depression, which, obviously, hindered his quality of life. However the Depression did in fact give him the ability to explore a different mindset for his writing , which he found very useful for his trade
2. Rhetorical aspects... for that i will be analyzing Elegy For Jane.
Great use of figurative language, with similes and metaphors abound, this poem is about unrequited love. Keeping a steady meter, Roethke kept his usual depressing tone as he told of a beautiful maiden who had the best of times and the worst of times. Unfortunately he must reminisce at her tomb stone.
3. As I stated above Elegy for Jane is now my favorite poem. Beautifully written and not too long, it is a poem that definitely will stay in your mind long after you read it.
4. Other than the fact that Roethke is truly American, I feel his themes are American. He speaks about topics such as child abuse that I feel other poets of the time would feel would be too tender to pick at. ALso, being a professor from Harvard, Theodore Roethke uses an extensive and enjoyable English vocabulary
Sunday, March 1, 2009
Reading Blog
1. How do these writings compare to those of the American Romantics we have read? Can you note some comparison between romantics and realists?
Willa Cather's writings were not very much like the American Romantics we have read. She is down to earth, realistic (as the title would imply), and isn't afraid to show both the positive and negative sides of a story although the Romantics tended to focus on just either the positive or the negative aspect/
2. What topics, themes, social/political issues does this writer take up in his/her work? What might these tell us as readers about this author and his/her worldview?
In "A Wagner Matinee", Cather takes up the theme of love and depression at everyday life. "Consequences" revolves around suicide. Both stories I have noticed involve not only one person, but good or bad involve the main character interacting with someone else. This can be good or bad but judging from Cather's dark short stories often times the interaction is cancerous wheI understood. For her, just outside the door of the concert hall, lay the black pond with the cattle-tracked bluffs; the tall, unpainted house, with weather-curled boards; naked as a tower, the crook-backed ash seedlings where the dishcloths hung to dry; the gaunt, molting turkeys picking up refuse about the kitchen door.ther the character believes it to be or not.
3. With regard to author’s purpose consider the following: To whom is this writer writing? For whom are they writing?
This author isn't writing to a specific sub-class but rather anyone that is in the darker times of their lives. If your particularly happy you probably won't be able to get through her stories sometimes, but they all have one point in them where there is an optimistic outlook, if only for a moment.
4. What relevance does this author’s writing hold for you as a reader?
"Consequences" spoke most to me. I honestly can say that I believe that everyone past the age of 13 has suicide cross their mind. If anyone says it hasn't they are probably lieing. What sets people apart is the amount of time people contemplate it. It can be as quick as "I wish I were dead!" to sitting and envisoining the act and it's consequences. I, being an honest person and leaning more towards the latter than the former, sympathized with Eastman and therfore this story resonated with me.
5. What drew you to the work of this author?
"I understood. For her, just outside the door of the concert hall, lay the black pond with the cattle-tracked bluffs; the tall, unpainted house, with weather-curled boards; naked as a tower, the crook-backed ash seedlings where the dishcloths hung to dry; the gaunt, molting turkeys picking up refuse about the kitchen door."
ALthough this was the last line from a Wagner Matinee" it was easilly the most key quotation that swayed me to choode Willa Cather as my author. I understand exactly how Aunt Georgiana feels. It's not often you get to get away from the troubles of everyday life, in fact it's amazingly difificult to truly detach yourself from them for any amount of time, and to just steal an extra ten minutes in that state is a true gift.
Willa Cather's writings were not very much like the American Romantics we have read. She is down to earth, realistic (as the title would imply), and isn't afraid to show both the positive and negative sides of a story although the Romantics tended to focus on just either the positive or the negative aspect/
2. What topics, themes, social/political issues does this writer take up in his/her work? What might these tell us as readers about this author and his/her worldview?
In "A Wagner Matinee", Cather takes up the theme of love and depression at everyday life. "Consequences" revolves around suicide. Both stories I have noticed involve not only one person, but good or bad involve the main character interacting with someone else. This can be good or bad but judging from Cather's dark short stories often times the interaction is cancerous wheI understood. For her, just outside the door of the concert hall, lay the black pond with the cattle-tracked bluffs; the tall, unpainted house, with weather-curled boards; naked as a tower, the crook-backed ash seedlings where the dishcloths hung to dry; the gaunt, molting turkeys picking up refuse about the kitchen door.ther the character believes it to be or not.
3. With regard to author’s purpose consider the following: To whom is this writer writing? For whom are they writing?
This author isn't writing to a specific sub-class but rather anyone that is in the darker times of their lives. If your particularly happy you probably won't be able to get through her stories sometimes, but they all have one point in them where there is an optimistic outlook, if only for a moment.
4. What relevance does this author’s writing hold for you as a reader?
"Consequences" spoke most to me. I honestly can say that I believe that everyone past the age of 13 has suicide cross their mind. If anyone says it hasn't they are probably lieing. What sets people apart is the amount of time people contemplate it. It can be as quick as "I wish I were dead!" to sitting and envisoining the act and it's consequences. I, being an honest person and leaning more towards the latter than the former, sympathized with Eastman and therfore this story resonated with me.
5. What drew you to the work of this author?
"I understood. For her, just outside the door of the concert hall, lay the black pond with the cattle-tracked bluffs; the tall, unpainted house, with weather-curled boards; naked as a tower, the crook-backed ash seedlings where the dishcloths hung to dry; the gaunt, molting turkeys picking up refuse about the kitchen door."
ALthough this was the last line from a Wagner Matinee" it was easilly the most key quotation that swayed me to choode Willa Cather as my author. I understand exactly how Aunt Georgiana feels. It's not often you get to get away from the troubles of everyday life, in fact it's amazingly difificult to truly detach yourself from them for any amount of time, and to just steal an extra ten minutes in that state is a true gift.
Saturday, February 21, 2009
Can words move people?
As long as there is literacy in the world and as long as people take the time to read, words will always retain their power. If you think about it the words themselves are nothing, mere jumbles of characters put together in a universal pattern. Rudimentry symbols they may be, it is the meaning given to them by the user that empowers them and has the ability to sway people. Adolf Hitler... a man considered by many to be the most evil person to roam this planet and yet he commanded massive fleets and came close to having his beliefs encompass the entire globe. What would persuade masses of people to take up arms and hail the dictator that would have them slain in a moment if it benefited him? His words. He spoke with such conviction that he was able to compel people to do his bidding. If you cannot appreciate this historical example I will use the recent phenomena of mobile text messaging. Although they are just pixels on a screen, everyone who reads this who uses text messaging services in any way knows that when they recieve affectionate words from someone they can't help but smile or make an attempt to see that person. It is the context of what has been said in conjunction with the speaker that makes it special. So, to answer the prompt, yes I not only feel words can move people but that they will continue to for as long as they are kept around.
Monday, February 16, 2009
Alternate Price of a Child Ending
Chapter Thirteen- When It All Falls Down
As if agreeing to one final effort, the horses broke into a rhythmic walk. Tyree laughed.
“How much longer ‘till we get to Zilpha’s?” Tyree asked.
“Just five miles or so Mr. Tyree. Don’t you worry.”
“That’s good to hear, Merce. I can’t take much more of this unbearable drive.”
Tyree smiled and put his head in his hands. Mercer tugged on the reigns of the horses gently nudging them to a halt and Tyree looked up inquisitively.
“Before we make it to the house I need to tell you something,” Mercer muttered in a barely audible tone.
“Sure, Mercy. Just tell me what’s on your mind.”
Mercer turned to face Tyree and took a deep breath. She knew this was against her better judgment.
“I think I’m in love with you.”
Tyree sat there in silence and utter amazement. He looked her over for a few moments and bit his lip as he spoke to her.
“I think I love you too.” He made his way up the wagon and squeezed in the drivers seat next to her. “Since I met you I have felt like you were something special, and now I find myself thinking of you all the time. I wouldn’t let anyone hurt you.”
Mercer felt her face heat up and she turned her face away as she whispered. “Let’s leave. Let’s take my children and start new.”
Tyree smiled and pulled her face back to him. “Sounds good. We can go to Canada.” Mercer returned the smile and he slowly edged closer kissing her lips softly. He tilted her head to the side and kissed her neck.
“Not now Ty,” Mercer groaned, his lips feeling warm and delightful to her.
“As you wish,” he replied returning to the passenger seat. “When we get to Zilpha’s I will tell everyone and secure some money for us. And I’ll make sure I get enough to get Bennie back. I wonder what your ex-master deems the price of a child.”
Mercer tugged roughly on the reigns and let the horses go as fast as they could. They trotted and the two sat in stunned silence at what was just said, thinking about spending some time together. About fifteen minutes had elapsed when Tyree jerked up from a nap.
“Something’s burning!” he shouted.
Mercer got past a thick brush of trees and gasped as she saw the horrid sight. Zilpha’s house was ablaze and only two people were outside. “No!” She muttered sadly.
A voice rang out as two men with muskets walked towards the wagon. They were laughing and smelled of ash. “You know we couldn’t let all you free niggers live in peace right?” Tyree clenched his fists and Mercer began to cry for her children. “They all burned. Too bad huh? Oh wait, we had to shoot this one drunkard.”
“Bea…” Tyree said through gritted teeth. He reached into his sock and pulled out a small knife.
The two men laughed sinisterly again and loaded their guns. “We killed that other nigger you call Nig-Nag earlier. Imagine the reward we’ll get for returning proof of all your remains. I mean, obviously not nearly as much as for you alive but beggars can’t be choosers.”
“I’ll kill you!” Mercer screamed with tears in her eyes. Both her and Tyree had had enough. They jumped out of the wagon and rushed the men who were just finishing loading the muskets. Tyree ran towards the one on the right, Mercer on the left.
Tyree heard two shots ring out and he ignored the pain in his arm, but as he looked back and saw Mercer hit the ground he was inconsolable. He plunged the dagger into the man’s chest and jumped on the second before the first one could fall. “Why won’t you die?” The white man shouted as Tyree stabbed him repeatedly, screaming nonstop as he did. Both men now bloody on the ground Tyree walked over to Mercer. She was dead, shot through the chest.
“I’m so sorry Mercy. I’m so sorry…” he moaned the pain beginning to settle in. Tears, for the first time in a long time, began to stream down his face. “It’ll be so much better where your going I promise.”
Tyree was so busy letting his emotions out he didn’t hear the first man he attacked reloading. The shot echoed out and he looked down at his chest, his shirt becoming dyed with his blood. He didn’t care. He had nothing left.
Tyree fell to the ground in front of Mercer and he took her cold hand in his. “I’m so sorry” was all he said as his eyes rolled back into his head, the man chuckling to himself. It was all over.
Chapter Thirteen- When It All Falls Down
As if agreeing to one final effort, the horses broke into a rhythmic walk. Tyree laughed.
“How much longer ‘till we get to Zilpha’s?” Tyree asked.
“Just five miles or so Mr. Tyree. Don’t you worry.”
“That’s good to hear, Merce. I can’t take much more of this unbearable drive.”
Tyree smiled and put his head in his hands. Mercer tugged on the reigns of the horses gently nudging them to a halt and Tyree looked up inquisitively.
“Before we make it to the house I need to tell you something,” Mercer muttered in a barely audible tone.
“Sure, Mercy. Just tell me what’s on your mind.”
Mercer turned to face Tyree and took a deep breath. She knew this was against her better judgment.
“I think I’m in love with you.”
Tyree sat there in silence and utter amazement. He looked her over for a few moments and bit his lip as he spoke to her.
“I think I love you too.” He made his way up the wagon and squeezed in the drivers seat next to her. “Since I met you I have felt like you were something special, and now I find myself thinking of you all the time. I wouldn’t let anyone hurt you.”
Mercer felt her face heat up and she turned her face away as she whispered. “Let’s leave. Let’s take my children and start new.”
Tyree smiled and pulled her face back to him. “Sounds good. We can go to Canada.” Mercer returned the smile and he slowly edged closer kissing her lips softly. He tilted her head to the side and kissed her neck.
“Not now Ty,” Mercer groaned, his lips feeling warm and delightful to her.
“As you wish,” he replied returning to the passenger seat. “When we get to Zilpha’s I will tell everyone and secure some money for us. And I’ll make sure I get enough to get Bennie back. I wonder what your ex-master deems the price of a child.”
Mercer tugged roughly on the reigns and let the horses go as fast as they could. They trotted and the two sat in stunned silence at what was just said, thinking about spending some time together. About fifteen minutes had elapsed when Tyree jerked up from a nap.
“Something’s burning!” he shouted.
Mercer got past a thick brush of trees and gasped as she saw the horrid sight. Zilpha’s house was ablaze and only two people were outside. “No!” She muttered sadly.
A voice rang out as two men with muskets walked towards the wagon. They were laughing and smelled of ash. “You know we couldn’t let all you free niggers live in peace right?” Tyree clenched his fists and Mercer began to cry for her children. “They all burned. Too bad huh? Oh wait, we had to shoot this one drunkard.”
“Bea…” Tyree said through gritted teeth. He reached into his sock and pulled out a small knife.
The two men laughed sinisterly again and loaded their guns. “We killed that other nigger you call Nig-Nag earlier. Imagine the reward we’ll get for returning proof of all your remains. I mean, obviously not nearly as much as for you alive but beggars can’t be choosers.”
“I’ll kill you!” Mercer screamed with tears in her eyes. Both her and Tyree had had enough. They jumped out of the wagon and rushed the men who were just finishing loading the muskets. Tyree ran towards the one on the right, Mercer on the left.
Tyree heard two shots ring out and he ignored the pain in his arm, but as he looked back and saw Mercer hit the ground he was inconsolable. He plunged the dagger into the man’s chest and jumped on the second before the first one could fall. “Why won’t you die?” The white man shouted as Tyree stabbed him repeatedly, screaming nonstop as he did. Both men now bloody on the ground Tyree walked over to Mercer. She was dead, shot through the chest.
“I’m so sorry Mercy. I’m so sorry…” he moaned the pain beginning to settle in. Tears, for the first time in a long time, began to stream down his face. “It’ll be so much better where your going I promise.”
Tyree was so busy letting his emotions out he didn’t hear the first man he attacked reloading. The shot echoed out and he looked down at his chest, his shirt becoming dyed with his blood. He didn’t care. He had nothing left.
Tyree fell to the ground in front of Mercer and he took her cold hand in his. “I’m so sorry” was all he said as his eyes rolled back into his head, the man chuckling to himself. It was all over.
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