Tag: ENGL200

An Essay on Hawthorne’s “The Birth-Mark”

Nathaniel Hawthorne has received recognition to be one of the most brilliant minds of American literature, primarily for the subject matter he tackled in his varied shorts and novels. Born into an area rich on old Puritan-Christian ideologies, Hawthorne frequently tackled matters of psychology and philosophy—challenging the basis of religious and civil morality; frequently evidence of these arguments were buried within symbolic elements, revealing themselves later toward the end of the narrative. Hawthorne’s The Birth-Mark employs these techniques, allowing the reader to sit and ponder about the tale’s moral as well as which characters might be villainous or heroic.

The Birth-Mark carries multiple symbolic elements, and leaves the reader with an array of morals to decipher—the battles of man against nature, the struggles of character in relationships, the dangers of hubris; interestingly, all of these messages are encompassed in and surrounded by the birth-mark.

Aylmer was a stereotypical man of science—knowledgeable and arrogant, carrying a number of neuroses that would have undoubtedly entertained the like of Sigmund Freud or Carl Jung. In reviewing the way this character was described, we might come to the conclusion that the scientist suffered from narcissism, perfectionism, and something between megalomania and a god-complex. This man wise and worldly eventually fell for the lovely Georgiana—an idealist—whom seemed to be perfect in every way, save one small blemish on her left cheek. Described as a relatively small mark which no other would pay mind, the reddish birth-mark favoring the shape of a tiny, hand was enough to drive Aylmer mad. In Aylmer’s obsession over the imperfection he began to associate the mark with nearly every negative that humanity and the world had to offer; to him the blemish symbolized “his wife’s liability to sin, sorrow, decay, and [die].” (Hawthorne, par. 8)

Following an evening discussion about the mark, Aylmer’s hatred and obsession infected his dear wife. Georgiana—young and naïve, possessing a great love and admiration for her husband—clung to his words, and desired the mark to be removed by the wondrous magic of his science—even if it would possibly result in death. Aylmer hastily proclaimed that he had been concocting methods and formulae in his mind that should yield positive results and forever erase this fault of nature. Aylmer thusly obliged Georgiana’s wishes, disregarding a bad omen received in a dream as well as words to the wise offered by his assistant, Aminadab.

Georgiana, whilst awaiting the procedure in her husband’s laboratory, learns of Aylmer’s varied experiments, finding a journal of her husband’s. Through reviewing the numerous trials—some of which having been failures, and a number of successes that could potentially unravel the lives of many—Georgiana finds how deeply depressed her husband is. Scrawled throughout the volume Aylmer had described failures as catastrophes, successes as failures; nothing seemed to measure up to the expectations he had set. After attempts to stroke her poor husband’s ego—something which she seems to do our of sorrow and love for the down-spirited man—Aylmer confesses that he had already begun experimentation on the mark, long before she had given her consent.

Eventually, Aylmer presents Georgiana with the elixir and watches her drift into a sleep. As he keeps a watchful eye, documenting the drug’s progression, he sees the ill-fated mark slowly fade. Finally, as the mark draws to a point where it has nearly vanished, Georgiana awakens, and announces to her husband that she is dying.

The birth-mark had become another one of Aylmer’s obsessions—an experiment in manufacturing perfection. His haughtiness and belief that he possessed the ability to challenge and change Nature’s design had proven fateful time and again; this time, however, had caused him to sacrifice his wife. Symbolically, the birth-mark represented any ill-perceived notion of the world and universe that man might wish to change. Additionally, the birth-mark carried symbolic representation of the paradoxical statement that within imperfection there is perfection—sometimes what we may see as wrong is right for certain purpose.

An interesting lesson exists with the view of the birthmark as perfect imperfection that can be applied to man and his relationships. On the surface of the story, we could simply read that no good can come from attempting to change the person that is one’s partner; while this is true, further in-depth reading and psychoanalysis of the text reveals much more. Not only did Georgiana’s birth-mark become an experimental project for Aylmer to fix—Georgiana was the project. Often in relationships—especially when they are still fresh, as is depicted in this tale—a partner might see something that is in need of change; frequently this is a reflection of a terrible match of characters or some issue buried in the partner’s psyche (McKenna, 2006 ); “death” of the relationship or the partner “needing” change usually occurs.

In the relationship described in this tale, Aylmer saw the mark and Georgiana in need of change, because they were not “perfect”—an issue with which Aylmer struggled within himself. Aylmer pushed Georgiana into submission, and killed her—mentally, emotionally and physically. Sadly, Georgiana played into this outcome of her own will, and wasn’t completely victimized. On the other side of the relationship, a partner can be so willing and forgiving of the other that any faults that arise must be their own and not that of the other or the two. Georgiana, holding such an idealization and idolization of Aylmer led herself to believe that the words Aylmer spoke were true (McKenna, 2006); as such, she disregarded the many warning signs and allowed for her partner to destroy who she was.

Aylmer, too, represented sins and psychoses present in all man; fortunately many of these inner issues only exist in whatever degree we allow. Further symbolism and flaws in man may be seen with Aylmer’s interactions with Aminadab. Aylmer’s constant reference to him as a man of clay raises a few possible interpretations: in plain context, this may be more of a demeaning term, as it is outlined that Aminadab is more of a common man—common as dirt, and tough or stubborn as clay, perhaps? Looking religiously, however, there are references in the Bible to men being clay (Walsh, 2009). Aminadab, being a “man of clay” seemed to know better than to go against nature as Aylmer did; Aylmer thought himself to be above it.

Aylmer desired to discover all the answers to life, and wished to do so without realizing that he may not worthy of an answer, or that an answer may simply not exist. Tragically, Aylmer failed to possess concepts of patience, acceptance, and serenity. Had these elements been part of his psyche, his entire character would have been very different, and the poor Georgiana might still have life.

Works Cited

Hawthorne, Nathaniel. “The Birth-Mark” ENGL200: Composition and Literature. American Public University System. 2011. McGraw-Hill. PDF/Web. Retrieved from: http://ebooks.apus.edu.ezproxy1.apus.edu/ENGL200/Perkins_2011_unit2.pdf

McKenna, John J. “Lessons About Pygmalion Projects And Temperament In Hawthorne’s “The Birthmark..” Eureka Studies In Teaching Short Fiction 7.1 (2006): 36-43. i Web. 29 July 2012.

Walsh, Conor. “Aminadab In Nathaniel Hawthorne’s THE BIRTH-MARK.” Explicator 67.4 (2009): 258-260. Academic Search Premier. Web. 29 July 2012.

Whether a written work be a short-story, a novel, or a performance piece, certain essential elements are included in the piece to aid in the development and direction of characters, setting, and plot. Performance pieces—such as plays and movie scripts—often limit how often scenery and direction appear within the text, leaving only specifics to the author’s visions in place.

This week we are prompted with the question of which of the two plays—The C Above High C and The Importance of Being Earnest—relies heavily on the performance elements; we were also asked how this affects the experience of reading the work. After review, I would have to argue that Reed’s “ …High C” uses performance at a degree much higher than that of Wilde’s “…Earnest”.

“…Earnest” is very heavy on dialogue—as is to be expected—and limits direction to initial scene settings, and vocal or expressive cues for the character. These instructions are important, yet if any of the performance elements were removed, the ability to perform the story remains; suggested or understood tone in the dialogue allow for the reader/director to envision the missing elements—due, in part, to the logical progression of the story. “…High C”, on the other hand, goes much further in plot and character development through the use of background action, sub-scenes, visual cues, and shifts in timeline—striking any of these elements and relying solely upon the dialogue would be a confusing nightmare.

Plot and character development in "…High C" also make way for political statements, symbolism, as well as satire—many of these points being lost if we were to use the dialogue alone; for example:

Symbolism, Irony

Louis, after his performance, applies facial cream—so much that his face is “white” in appearance. This element is not mentioned in dialogue and is kept in direction only. Louis is a fairly dark—though not very dark—complected African-American man. He is accepted by both “white” and “black” audiences; yet in a community of rising “black” entertainers—beboppers—he is seen as being very dark—Uncle Tom-like (Reed, I.1.7-8). All of this is mentioned and used during the continual application of facial cream while conversation also expands to the discussion of racial equality.

Symbolism, Satire, Comedy

The character of J. Edgar Hoover is described and portrayed as a short, fat, black transvestite (Reed, I.2.77-80; II.2). Rumors are fairly widely known of Hoover having been a transvestite and possibly bi-sexual or gay; adding the characterization of Hoover being dark-skinned adds an element of satirical humor—creating a visual representation of how Hoover isn’t “accepted as a white man” (Reed, I.2.80). The representation could also suggest that the man was so bent against everyone due to his own personal insecurities and fears of how his inner image would be viewed by society.

Juxtaposition and scene transitions

Several scenes within the play show contradicting views or sub-scenes onstage at one time. Examples of such scenes are: the flash to a bebopper talking jive about Louis in scene one (Reed, I.1.8); Mamie appearing for a monologue turned dialogue with Lil in front of Ike and Kay—which later transitions to J. Edgar snooping behind Lil and Kay (Reed, I.2.46-91); etc.

In reading “…High C”, I found myself wondering what additional action was supposed to take place on stage, as there were several cues for slides to be projected; nowhere had I read any description of the images that were to be shown—other than being described in dialogue/performance cues. I found this void in direction to be a bit annoying, however I was capable of continuing the story.

Overall, I would say that the experience of reading “…High C” was greater due to the depth in which the stage/scene direction went; I was capable of creating a much more entertaining stage in my mind, whereas “…Earnest” left me with simple characters on a stage.

Works Cited

Reed, Ishmael. "The C Above High C". 1997. ENGL 200: Composition and Literature. Boston: McGraw-Hill, 2011. Web. 3 July 12

Wilde, Oscar. “The Importance of Being Earnest.” 1895. ENGL 200: Composition and Literature. Boston: McGraw-Hill, 2011. Web. 3 July 12

Another essay assignment…

Jeremiah Hall Palmer
Professor Mendel
ENGL200
June 29, 2012

Dear Prof. Mendel:

For this essay I chose to pick on Woody Guthrie’s “This Land is Your Land.” In this essay I’ve tried to stay focused on the topic of the differences between the written, poetic form that we are presented with in the text and the vocalized version of which the majority of us are accustomed. For a brief moment I touched on the topic of how the addition of music to verse can have an effect on interpretation and meaning—how could I not, as the two topics do cross over with this piece?

As always, thank you for your time and criticisms; I look forward to seeing what marks I’ve earned with this work.

Sincerely,
Jeremiah Hall Palmer

Jeremiah Hall Palmer
Professor Mendel
ENGL200
June 29, 2012

It can be very difficult—next to impossible, even, for this author—to read the lyrics of Woody Guthrie’s “This Land is Your Land” without experiencing the melodic accompaniment echoing through the mind. “This Land…” has been implanted in many of our minds over the course of years, starting for many of us in elementary school, as one of the first songs taught in music education. Singing along internally comes fairly easily—almost annoyingly—while letting the eyes follow the printed text of the poem; that is, until the mentally pictured bouncing ball that followed the words hits the brick wall that is the additional “unknown” stanzas. Not only does the melodic flow of the words disrupted by the discovery that more of the poem exists—but perspective is changed, once these “new” passages are read, and discovery is made that there is additional meaning that has been stricken from the more “patriotic” version.

At the start of the poem, Guthrie illustrates a man’s nomadic wandering across the earthen face of the nation; visions of the vast and bountiful picturesque landscape are shared, with the exclamation that all of this is here for us to enjoy—this land was made for you and me (Guthrie, 5-8). Guthrie continues on in painting this picture; underlining that from Pacific to Atlantic, our eyes can see—and if we open them up further, our ears can even “hear” a resounding voice telling us that the majestic is ours to have and share freely (Guthrie, 11-12). Pressing further in his writing, however, Guthrie shows us that—sadly—the wonderful and sentimental truth he has shared is anything but; nature’s beauty and freedoms aren’t available to us all, after all.

A sign is seen ahead, and when approached, it is seen emblazoned with the words, “No Trespassing”; as with most signs which we see making such a declaration, our wandering minstrel notices that the opposite side is blank—suggestion is then made that perhaps we belong on the other side of the sign (Guthrie, 17-20). An interesting point of discussion arises from these simple few lines—is this some sort of symbolic representation? Has this simple poem that was taught to us as school-age children turned into political commentary? Continuing on, our lyrical guide takes us to a small inner-city scene, where poor and down-trodden seek out assistance (Guthrie, 22-23); following this, Guthrie poses the question, “Is this land made for you and me?” (Guthrie, 24)

We have gone from hearing, and singing what had been a rather calm, mellow, and upbeat song, to reading a somewhat depressing poem that makes us question the direction with which our nation is heading and the troubles that we—as a nation—are facing. In a land of wondrous beauty and opportunity, poverty is ever-present; varied laws and regulations withhold some from achieving the dream. There is still hope available, however, as Guthrie continues; he tells us in his words that he has the ability to defy the “No Trespassing” signs and be master of his own destiny and enjoy the elements written/ sung about earlier, and that “nobody living can ever make me turn back.” (Guthrie, 27)

In reviewing the original writing of “This Land…” and comparing it to the version most commonly known in song, we can see a difference in the interpretative meanings. Simply taking the traditional lyrics alone without musical accompaniment, we can see that the words can be slightly melancholy; yet when we apply the music, the words gain some “bounce” and are brought to a more comfortable and cheery level of relaxing and hopeful reflection of what the dreams of the nation are. Stripping the music away, however, and examining the entire written work exposes a writing of saddened concern for humanity and political system in America. It would be difficult to imagine what the traditional song would sound like with the addition of these stanzas; would the melody be capable of carrying these darker lyrics? And, had the additional verses been included, would the song have ever been published and risen to being such a commonly known song, given it would have been political commentary? I doubt it.

It is for this reason that I believe that the additional lyrics have been excluded from the song’s performance by nearly every performer—with exception to Woody’s son, Arlo Guthrie. The song has grown to be known by so many, that the discovery or inclusion of the additional verses would cause upset to persons who have grown so accustomed to the vision of a man, journeying the nation in solitude, breathing in the beauty, and finding peace. Any change would destroy this image and simply be unacceptable to the collective majority.

Works Cited
Guthrie, W. “This Land is Your Land” ENGL200: Composition and Literature. American Public University System. 2011. McGraw-Hill. PDF/Web. Retrieved from: http://ebooks.apus.edu.ezproxy1.apus.edu/ENGL200/Perkins_2011_unit2.pdf

…kind of a follow-up of the previous weeks’ forum posting…

It would appear that–in a way–I have already tackled this particular forum’s task through my response to last week’s forum. In writing about the form—the methods of rhythm, etc.—used in “My Papa’s Waltz”, I dove into how the structure and choice of words could have an affect on the reader’s interpretation, thus changing the meaning; in doing so, I uncovered two methods of critical response: psychological and reader-response.

In my initial review of “My Papa’s Waltz”, I came to the conclusion that the poem was simply about a father and son goofing off after supper, and getting on the mother’s nerves in doing so; I came to this conclusion based on reader-response—my own personal experience—as well as an historical approach. I hadn’t researched the period in which the piece was authored, but had let my own interpretation of the language and scene draw a conclusion of the setting; primarily due to the drink of choice being whiskey—“the whiskey on your breath…” (Roethke, 1), the fact that the father’s hands were filthy—“…palm caked hard with dirt…” (Roethke, 14), pans being set on a shelf instead of tucked in a cupboard—“…the pans slid from the kitchen shelf…” (Roethke, 5-6), I assumed that the tale took place in the late 1800s closing in on the turn of the century. After researching further and finding that the author was born nearly a decade after the beginning of the 20th century, and that this piece was published in 1942, I see that my assumptions of period are off—yet not by much, as a lower working-class home of that period would still fit within the same assumptions I had made.

From the melded psychological and reader-response viewpoints, we are still left with differing opinions. Through my own experiences I fail to see where the poem is one of abuse; whereas any person that may have had experiences with an alcoholic and/or abusive parent might see the work as a tale of how a child had been beaten, yet still seemed to possess a slight amount of unconditional love for the abuser.

For this forum prompt, we were asked to find an approach that would be best used in criticizing one of the works we read; I believe that in the case of “My Papa’s Waltz”, three approaches are available—with two standing at the forefront, joined in a combined approach. Given the few setting descriptors we can approach it with a slight historical view; however, as the poem is emotional in nature, we are left with the psychological and the reader-response. Due to the strength of the emotions contained in this poem—strong, perhaps due to the fact that tale centers around the view of a former child—reader-response comes out on top.

…based upon my own personal psychological and emotional response to the poem, I still see it as an innocent tale of a father and son enjoying a time together.

Works Cited
Roethke, Theodore. “My Papa’s Waltz.” ENGL 200: Composition and Literature. New York: McGraw-Hill, 2011. Web. 16 August 2011.

This post received the following responses:

The following is one more little essay I wrote for one of my classes…

Jeremiah Hall Palmer
Professor Mendel
ENGL200
June 28, 2012

Dear Prof. Mendel:

I must say that this essay took quite a bit of time to complete. I chose to use The Birth-Mark as the tale to place under attack, with the concepts of symbolism within the story as the focus of the essay. In reading the story it became clear to me that the topic of the story was that of perfection—or imperfection—and how man should find solace rather than aggravation with the slightest imperfections and disappointments—see beauty, balance and harmony in the chaos, instead of discontent—lest he suffer additional losses. An easy concept to write about, I thought; discuss how the mark on Georgiana’s cheek was the balance in her life—the balance in all of life—which made her beautiful to begin with. With an odd twist of irony, I stared blankly at my screen for hours trying to think of the “perfect” way to begin a writing in which I planned to speak downwardly about perfection.

To be frank, I am not that pleased with how this essay has turned out; it has not reached the expectations I had—more irony. Had I been able to think a bit more clearly—and if the assignment allowed for outside resources and influences—I would have tried to write a bit more about some of the psychological and religious aspects of the story, which are further symbolized in the relationship between Aylmer and Aminadab—I found a neat little piece online discussing the “bad anima”.

In spite of my limitations and my battle with writer’s block, I am very content with the fact that I did manage to have words spring forth from my fingers, tapped out here for you to read. I do know that my work will yield a better result than that of Aylmer’s, even though it is of a quality much less than what I had originally desired.

Once again, I would like to thank you for taking the time to review my work. I do hope that it has not been too hard to follow—though I wouldn’t be surprised if it is, considering the hours I’ve spent trying to untangle my thoughts. As always, do feel free to critique the work and offer up as much criticism—humorous or otherwise—crack if time allows.

Sincerely,
Jeremiah Hall Palmer

Jeremiah Hall Palmer
Professor Mendel
ENGL200
June 28, 2012

An Essay on Hawthorne’s “The Birth-Mark”

Nathaniel Hawthorne, perhaps most widely known for the Scarlett Letter, has been argued to be one of the most brilliant minds of American literature, especially with regard to some of the subjects he tackled in his varied shorts and novels. Hawthorne frequently tackled matters of psychology, though the evidence of these arguments were oft-times buried within symbolic elements in a matter akin to a moralistic fable, with the final reveal becoming clearer toward the end of the narrative; The Birth-Mark is one of Hawthorne’s works which employs such techniques. Though the battle of science and nature is an obvious conflict in the tale—something which is underlined heavily as the main argument for the story, within the first two paragraphs—it is the birth-mark which becomes the main symbolic element for the rest of the psychological conflict throughout the rest of the writing.

Aylmer was a man of science—knowledgeable and arrogant, with neuroses that may be described as narcissistic, perfectionist, and, perhaps, even a dash of a God-complex. This man who thought himself to be wise and worldly had fallen for a radiant beauty named Georgiana, that seemed perfect in every way, save one small blemish on her left cheek—a reddish birth-mark that had a shape favoring that of a tiny, miniscule hand. This imperfection became a point on which Aylmer obsessed—obsessed so much that in his own mind he began to see the mark symbolize nearly every negative in the world and in humanity; the pigmented skin became a “symbol of his wife’s liability to sin, sorrow, decay, and [die].” (Hawthorne, par. 8)

Aylmer’s obsession grew to a point where his distaste for the imperfection became subject of discussion between the two; eventually the hatred for the mark infected Georgiana, and drove her to desire it to be removed by some miracle of her husband’s science—even if death were a risk. Aylmer quickly jumped at the chance, proclaiming that he had been mentally concocting methods and formulae that would yield positive results in removing this fault of nature. Despite having had a dream that foreshadowed a negative outcome—a dream which sparked this discussion of the mark—Aylmer obliged Georgiana—and his ego, or id—to experiment with the mark’s removal.

Whilst in her husband’s laboratory, awaiting the procedure that was to remove the mark, Georgiana learns of Aylmer’s varied experiments; many of which having been failures, and a few successes being those that could potentially unravel life for one or many. Georgiana finds a journal of her husband’s, and finds how deeply depressed of a man he is—outlining failures as catastrophes and successes as failures, as nothing measured up to the high expectations he had set. Later, as Georgiana investigates more of her husband’s life in the laboratory, Aylmer confesses that he had already begun to experiment on the mark, long before her consent.

Eventually, Aylmer presents Georgiana with the elixir and watches her drift into a sleep. As he watches, he sees the mark slowly fade away. Finally, as the mark draws to a point where it has nearly vanished, Georgiana awakens, and announces to her husband that she is dying.

The birth-mark became yet another one of Aylmer’s obsessions—one of his experiments at creating something perfect, or modifying something existing in order to make it perfect. Aylmer’s haughtiness and belief in that he possessed—or could possess—the ability to change Nature’s design proved fateful time and again, and this time caused him to lose his wife. Symbolically, the birth-mark represented any possible ill-perceived problem seen in the world to which men of science wish to attempt to change. The birth-mark also stood as a symbolic representation of the paradoxical statement that within imperfection there is perfection—sometimes what we may see as wrong is right for certain purpose.

Aylmer, too, is a symbolic representation of certain sins and psychoses that are present in all of man, should we allow for these issues to take control of our lives. Aylmer desired much more out of his life than what was attainable—he desired to discover all the answers he could out of life without accepting that, at times, there simply isn’t an answer. Aylmer didn’t seem to possess the concepts of patience, acceptance, and serenity; had these elements been part of his psyche his character would have been quite different, and the poor Georgiana might still have life.

Works Cited
Hawthorne, Nathaniel. “The Birth-Mark” ENGL200: Composition and Literature. American Public University System. 2011. McGraw-Hill. PDF/Web. Retrieved from: http://ebooks.apus.edu.ezproxy1.apus.edu/ENGL200/Perkins_2011_unit2.pdf

Response to–yep, you guessed it–an assignment!

My Papa’s Waltz seems to be an awesome poem to pick on, especially where potential exists for a reader to see more than what is written. The poem has a very even rhythm to it, with every other line matching perfectly in rhyme and being within one to two differences in length when counting syllables. This pace aids in setting the mood for the poem, depending upon whether a few keywords or phrases trigger a past emotional response in the reader.

On the face—which is where I sit in reading the poem—I see a hardworking father having come home after a hard days work and enjoying a silly little dance with his child after having supped and having a short drink to relax his weary muscles and aching bones. Unfortunately, Papa’s drink is rather strong and lingers on his breath; despite the revoltingly powerful smell, the child clings closely to the father—which makes the dancing all the more difficult.

Father and child dance quite a while, awkwardly moving about the room—likely having many near misses with the furniture—jostling the floor, sending vibrations up the walls, disturbing mother’s cookware. Though possibly enjoying the connection being shared between the father and child, mother still wasn’t all that pleased because of the unnecessary romping and messes being created by the raucous.

As time presses on the difficult movements of the pair become a bit more awkward as the father’s body tires—or the relaxing effects of the drink take hold. Clumsy, tired—and likely well-lubricated, by now—feet get in the way of themselves, and the poor kid—who assumedly stands roughly waist-high—scrapes their ear against the father’s belt buckle as they move about the room. Eventually, the dance comes to an end, as the father takes the child to bed.

Alternatively, one that might have an unpleasant childhood and relationship with alcohol could see further symbolism in this work. The first three lines of the poem suggest that “daddy is drinking again” and that the fearful child must “[hang] on like death”; the final line of that first stanza then suggests that the codeword for abuse in this situation is waltzing—dancing. From this point forward other keywords in the poem become symbolic code words: “We romped… hand that held my wrist… My right ear scraped a buckle… You beat [sic] my head…” Amongst these words, the mother frowning, becomes a fearful wife. The battered knuckle on the hand holding the child’s wrist becomes battered from striking the child, possibly from “beating” the child’s head instead of thrumming a rhythm as he held the child close.

All of those words and phrases along with the cadence—something which may also be present in an abusive situation (cadence, rhythm, pattern, order, control)—aid in changing the interpretation of the poem. This work shows a good example of the importance of all the elements of form discussed in this unit—and how they can sometimes twist the meaning depending upon the end reader’s influences in life.

…but, seriously, it’s a poem about a father and child goofing off after supper; I’ve done the same—though my breath doesn’t smell of a distillery, mine smells like an ashtray… (and the kids have pointed this out—a stink that one doesn’t necessarily appreciate, but will love and cling onto anyway, just because it means being close to dad.)

This post received the following responses:

Ashley Heenan:

I did this poem also. I must admit that poetry is not my strong suit and I don’t know much about it. I see most of it one-sided like it is written and have a hard time looking deeper. Until someone commented on my post talking about the child abuse, I wouldn’t have even considered it. Mainly because I couldn’t see how the mother would stand there and watch it. But after reading your post, I see now what the other person was talking about you, but your interpretation clearly defines what could be read deeper. Because of the meaning of the other interpretation, I do prefer to think of it as just the hardworking father dancing with his father instead of the father beating his so. That’s only because no one really likes to think about child abuse happening and having someone there watching it and not doing anything.

Patricia Stubbs:

I am mildly surprised that the people who tackled the inner meaning in this poem did not take it as a dark poem. However, that is only because this situational poem would have been too close to getting emotional for me to have handled its dissection well. I spent much of my childhood humoring a drunken parent. Life just went smoother when we went along with his plans, even if it is dancing through the kitchen like the little boy and his father in the poem. Thank you for spinning this into a more positive light. I think the father in the poem is a little too far gone on whiskey for this to be a good thing. If he was just playing around he would have noticed the little boy’s uneasiness. The last two lines show the unconditional love of a young child for their parent, as he still clings to his father to head to bed.

[…kind of a recycled response to a class assignment… you can flip through the archives to see the original…]

Character development and style can be very strong elements in engaging a reader of any story. In The Things They Carried, author Tim O’Brien presented an interesting tale of the Vietnam war, and did so primarily through the views of one centralized character, Lt. Cross. Amidst the descriptions in the tale of the men and their supplies, we bounce back and forth from seeing the men—and Lt. Cross, in particular—as being “standard issue” grunts to being human. The development of the characters as well as the style used in presenting the tale—the cyclic switching of fantasy and reality—bring about an interesting perspective on war and the human psyche in general.

Throughout the work we are given multiple examples of how the war and the men’s prior lives have helped shape them. Though the military has prescribed a specific list of things the men must carry, each man carries something different with them—though in many ways, they still carry the same things. Comic books, photographs, letters, various “charms”—each man carrying something special to them which keeps them connected to their individual worlds at home; each man carrying something which attempts to keep them connected to sanity.

In the end, our main character, Lt. Cross, feels that his attempts at keeping sane—through his random daydreams—have drawn his mind away from his duties and caused an undue loss of life. I question whether the Leuitenant’s self-assesment is fair. Cross may have been miles away in his mind, but was he truly responsible for Lavender’s death? Day-dreaming of a woman that may not truly have “feelings”, imagining, questioning whether this girl was pure of mind, body and spirit—were these things really responsible for Lavender’s demise?

Boom-down. Zapped while zipping.

Cross, just as any other man would, found fault in himself, fault in his emotions—fault in being human—and decided to blame that fault for Lavender’s death. A good Lieutenant may not have been preoccupied with thoughts and visions of college girls playing volleyball, sure; but a good Lieutenant may have had his nose buried so deep in maps and radio communiqués that any number of men could have had their heads blown off.

Is imagination, fantasy, day-dreaming, escaping reality for a single moment—is it dangerous? It can be. Cross saw it as an avoidable danger in the end.

Are these separations from reality positive and helpful? Undoubtedly. One could question whether the men would be sane or even human if they did not take these breaks from the horror that they were living. It is my belief that the main point being driven here is that these feelings and emotions are impossible to escape; that to fantasize is simply a part of being human, and that it can and does happen at any time and in any setting. Whether these fantasies can be controlling—how influential they may be—is entirely up to the individual; interesting points to ponder, that were given to us through the awesome use of character.

O’Brien delivers his message very well, amidst this tale of a seemingly small platoon in the Vietnam War. The main concept of the collection of stories is to deliver the experience of the war; what better way to do so, than to write it in such a way as to allow for the reader to connect on a more human—a more emotional—level? In order to accomplish this goal, O’Brien made use of the historical fiction genre, and drew upon the use of fantasy as the connecting element between the characters and the reader. Fantasy also serves as an interesting element in affecting the flow of the story, jerking the reader into and out of the fantasies as well.

Delivering a factual tale of a war can be less than entertaining; telling the reader of the various equipment used creates a sense that the writer simply copied the dry and sterile text of a military publication—an equipment list, a duty roster, or a technical manual on the assembly of some exotic weapon. These facts, as necessary as they may be, do not engage a reader; breaking away and dipping into the souls of the characters involved, however, is very engaging. This is why, I suspect, that O’Brien chose the tactic of drawing us into the character; introducing the “current” fantasy and then breaking away back to the more “mundane” details of the things they carried, cycling back to the other “things” they carried—repeating the cycle.

This method—or style of writing—worked quite well to establish an engaging tale and give the reader a truer feeling of how fantasy can creep upon us, draw us in and then boom—back to reality.

—

Rather than keeping with one element as the prompt asked us, I chose to speak on both character and style, as the two were very closely related and equally important in this story.

…just as a side note…

…a really nice reading of the short is available at: http://www.podcastdirectory.com/podshows/10573078

…rough draft of a short essay i need to turn in tomorrow…

Human emotion, with regard to matters relating to the heart, can be quite an interesting topic for discussion, and one which is brought forth in reading F. Scott Fitzgerald’s “Winter Dreams”. Our central character in this short tale is a young man by the name of Dexter Green. Dexter comes from humble beginnings, yet manages to live an American dream of owning and operating a successful business, rewarding him with the ability to stand amongst the same character of men he had once caddied for as a child. Dexter’s fortune has brought him many things in life; love—or the love he had desired for so long—isn’t among the rewards.

On the day Dexter had decided to quit his job as a caddy at age fourteen, Dexter crossed paths with a young lady and her nurse; the child he had recognized from a year or so prior, yet this time she seemed more striking—perhaps because she had grown closer to the age of pubescence, though still “beautifully ugly” at the age of eleven. This spoiled, privileged child—who had been throwing a tantrum of sorts in finding that a game of golf might be out of the question—caught his eye and captured his heart with an innocent yet devilishly mischievous smile.

Years passed, and Dexter went off to college, taking loans against his degree following graduation and purchasing a laundering service. Through the combination of becoming successful and catering to the special laundering needs of golfing attire, Dexter was extended an invitation to the club where he had caddied. While on the links playing among the men he had once followed, Dexter once again crossed paths with little Miss Jones, who was now a much older and “matured” Judy Jones. Later that evening, Dexter and Judy dined together, and spoke of varying topics, with the final being an attraction to another followed by some heavy petting. Though these actions were undeniably based on mere physical attraction, and possible attraction of assumed social status, Dexter fell madly in love, connecting the experience to the first time his eyes were drawn to her smile so many years ago.

Judy was, sadly, a bit of a flirt and strung along many men over the years, and had even continued to do so while her and Dexter were “together”. Understandably, Dexter was upset when he discovered that Judy was so set in having what she wanted—so much so that she extended this selfishness into her love life, and saw no issue with it. Dexter was, however, still deeply infatuated with Judy; Dexter had found himself into many of the elite club and society gatherings just so that he could have opportunity to find time with her. Eventually, Dexter tried to push the thoughts of this first love aside, and sound another interest, Irene, to whom he became engaged. The engagement didn’t last, however, as Judy once again entered his life, and took him away to her boudoir.

Dexter had spent so many years pining over Judy, and it led to nothing but heartache. Roughly ten years had passed, and their paths hadn’t crossed—not a thought had been given—until the day a gentleman, a Devlin character with business in Detroit off-handedly mentioned Judy. The simple mention of her name brought about all of the old feelings Dexter had for this woman. Concern and anger rose in Dexter as Devlin shared how Judy was nothing more than a fairly common housewife now—no special beauty or endearing, mischievous smiles graced her face anymore. A love that enveloped Dexter for so long—a love which had caused him to lose his fiancée—was no more; Judy, though still alive, no longer existed. Dexter, having received this word, has found that a part of himself has died as well. Judy was more than an old-flame, but a “dream” of his—a part of his heart, his mind, his soul—that had helped and caused harm in making him the man he had become.

…once again, I go above and beyond in length for a forum posting. The following was submitted in response to a classwork assignment:

Personally, I believe that O’Brien simply wants to show that the soldiers are as vulnerable to fantasy, dreams and emotion as any other person. Soldiers of war are still very human—their minds shall never stop being creative in dealing with the troubles they face. Through painting this image, O’Brien leads us to ask whether this—being human in such an inhumane setting—is positive or negative.

Throughout this short we’re given multiple examples of the differences of what the men are thinking and how the war and prior lives have helped shape them. Though the military has prescribed a specific list of things the men must carry, each man carries something different with them—though in many ways, they still carry the same things. Comic books, photographs, letters, various “charms”—each man carrying something special to them which keeps them connected to their own world at home; each man carrying something which attempts to keep them connected to sanity.

In the end, our main character, Lt. Cross, sees that his own attempts at keeping sane have drawn his mind away from his duties to his men. I question whether this judgment is fair. Cross may have been miles away in his mind, but was he truly responsible for Lavender’s death? Day-dreaming of a woman that may not truly have “feelings”, imagining, questioning whether this girl was pure of mind, body and spirit—were these things really responsible for Lavender’s demise?

Boom-down. Zapped while zipping.

Cross, just as any other man would, found fault in himself, fault in his emotions, fault in being human, and decided to blame that fault for Lavender’s death. A good Lieutenant may not have been preoccupied with thoughts and visions of college girls playing volleyball, sure; but a good Lieutenant may have had his nose buried so deep in maps and radio communiqués that any number of men could have had their heads blown off.

Is imagination, fantasy, day-dreaming, escaping reality for a single moment—is it dangerous? It can be. Cross saw it as an avoidable danger in the end.

Are these separations from reality positive and helpful? Undoubtedly. One could question whether the men would be sane or even human if they did not take these breaks from the horror that they were living. It is my belief that the main point being driven here is that these feelings and emotions are impossible to escape; that to fantasize is simply a part of being human, and that it can and does happen at any time and in any setting. Whether these fantasies can be controlling—how influential they may be—is entirely up to the individual.

O’Brien delivers this message well amidst this tale of a seemingly small platoon in the Vietnam War. The main concept of the collection of stories is to deliver the experience of the war; what better way to do so, than to write it in such a way as to allow for the reader to connect on a more human—a more emotional—level? In order to accomplish this goal, O’Brien made use of the historical fiction genre, and drew upon the use of fantasy as the connecting element between the characters and the reader. Fantasy also serves as an interesting element in affecting the flow of the story, jerking the reader into and out of the fantasies as well.

Delivering a factual tale of a war can be less than entertaining; telling the reader of the various equipment used creates a sense that the writer simply copied the dry and sterile text of a military publication—an equipment list, a duty roster, or a technical manual on the assembly of some exotic weapon. These facts, as necessary as they may be, do not engage a reader; breaking away and dipping into the souls of the characters involved, however, is very engaging. This is why, I suspect, that O’Brien chose the tactic of drawing us into the character; introducing the “current” fantasy and then breaking away back to the more “mundane” details of the things they carried, cycling back to the other “things” they carried—repeating the cycle.

This method worked quite well to establish an engaging tale and give the reader a truer feeling of how fantasy can creep upon us, draw us in and then boom—back to reality.

—

…just as a side note…

…a really nice reading of the short is available at: http://www.podcastdirectory.com/podshows/10573078