The essay by Ralph Ellison, Invisible Man, is very much like T.S. Elliot’s, The Wasteland. He does not give the reader time to dwell on any image, as he quickly moves from one thing to another and yet another in his writing. Unlike Elliot, he doesn’t give the reader notes by which to go by. For example, when he gets high, he starts to dream and he makes references to bible passages. I believe that Jonah and the whale myth is one of them, but I don’t know for sure.
I think that the prologue is an explanation of how black folk felt and were seen in the days of slavery. Chapter one is a response to the way Ellison feels about Booker T. Washington’s Atlanta Exposition Speech. Ellison does not come out and say exactly that, but you can sense the sarcasm in tone of his essay. He himself takes on the role of Booker T. Washington and paints a very sarcastic picture. When he is delivering his speech (Washington’s Atlanta Exposition Speech), he mentions equality and is scolded and guided by the white man to redirect his speech. This did not happen in Washington’s speech. However, it seems as though Ellison is implying just that.
What I found most striking about this essay is the prologue. In the beginning, he seems to show his anger towards society and the way that black folks were treated (invisible). Ellison implies that it is the white man’s loss when he states:
Meanwhile I enjoy my life with the compliments of Monopolated Light and Power. Since you never recognize me even when in closest contact with me, and since, no doubt, you’ll hardly believe that I exist, it won’t matter….
The way I interpret this is that an individual can be a very powerful person and be able to do a lot of good for the world, but unless he is visible to the world and given a chance, one will never know.
Another passage that I find very striking is when he says, “ Once I asked for a cigarette, some jokers gave me a reefer, which I lighted when I got home and sat listening to my phonograph…I not only entered the music but descended like Dante, into its depths.”
When I read this piece it reminded me of the movie Friday, by Ice Cube, when Smokey jumps in the 64 Impala with the Mexicans. They smoked some stuff with him. He thought they were smoking reefer, but instead he was given sherm (angel dust). Smokey also started to descend, but ended up in a chicken coop, twitching.
Monday, April 19, 2010
Sunday, April 11, 2010
I chose to write about Gwendolyn Brooks because I can relate to her material. I particularly liked the piece titled, “A Song in the Front Yard” because it reminds me of when I grew up in the hood. She writes about the ghetto, describing it as a harsh yet entertaining environment. It is fascinating how she successfully paints a beautiful picture of the ghetto, and transforms it into an intriguing place in which to have fun.
Brooks does an excellent job of making the ghetto come to life. As I read her poem, I was easily transported to the days when I used to enjoy playing in the streets of my neighborhood. Much like the voice in the poem who felt a strong desire for playing in the ghetto, I too felt a sudden nostalgia for the rough and dirty places I used to trample in.
The tone of the author in this piece is that of a rebellious child, questioning the rules and yearning for freedom to do as she wishes and be like the kids in the ghetto. She says:
I remember the multitude of times when my parents tried to persuade me into thinking that all of my neighborhood buddies where bad people. Unlike the character in Brooks’ poem, I did not have the guts to say that “it was fine.” Instead, I would agree, sneak out behind their backs and stay out until a quarter to three, in the morning that is.
I think that the sociological aspects in this piece are the stereotypes made by the middle class woman of the lower class “charity children.” One could get a feel for how this middle class family lives, by the descriptions given in this poem. They have a front yard with roses, and a gate in the backyard that leads to the alley. One gets the impression that the mother and her daughter do not live in the ghetto. Although little George may be a bad kid, on the account that he stole and sold this family’s back gate, it does not mean that Johnnie Mae will turn out to be a bad woman just because she lives down the alley in the concrete jungle (ghetto).
Brooks does an excellent job of making the ghetto come to life. As I read her poem, I was easily transported to the days when I used to enjoy playing in the streets of my neighborhood. Much like the voice in the poem who felt a strong desire for playing in the ghetto, I too felt a sudden nostalgia for the rough and dirty places I used to trample in.
The tone of the author in this piece is that of a rebellious child, questioning the rules and yearning for freedom to do as she wishes and be like the kids in the ghetto. She says:
“My
mother sneers, but I say it’s
fine
How they don’t have to go in at a quarter to
nine.
My mother, she tells me that Johnnie Mae
Will grow up to be a bad
woman…
But I say it’s fine. Honest, I do.
And I’d like to be a bad woman, too.”
I remember the multitude of times when my parents tried to persuade me into thinking that all of my neighborhood buddies where bad people. Unlike the character in Brooks’ poem, I did not have the guts to say that “it was fine.” Instead, I would agree, sneak out behind their backs and stay out until a quarter to three, in the morning that is.
I think that the sociological aspects in this piece are the stereotypes made by the middle class woman of the lower class “charity children.” One could get a feel for how this middle class family lives, by the descriptions given in this poem. They have a front yard with roses, and a gate in the backyard that leads to the alley. One gets the impression that the mother and her daughter do not live in the ghetto. Although little George may be a bad kid, on the account that he stole and sold this family’s back gate, it does not mean that Johnnie Mae will turn out to be a bad woman just because she lives down the alley in the concrete jungle (ghetto).
Sunday, March 28, 2010
Essay #2 Pitch
For the final essay, I have chosen to go with prompt number one, the Real Skinny Textbook Debate. I will attempt to convince the editors of the Norton Anthology that Walt Whitman, T.S. Elliot, and Hilda Doolittle should be the three authors included in the shorter version of the anthology textbook.
I have chosen Walt Whitman to represent the Romantic Period because he is a true Romanticist. In every one of his works, he gets very intimate, and often times sexual, with his surroundings. He takes in all of the sights, sounds, smells, and feelings that surround him, and reflects this in his writing. Whitman really draws the reader into his emotions. One can truly feel as though one is living the experiences that he portrays. Whitman describes his fascination with the simple things in life and turns our attention to their perfection.
For the Modernist Period, I have chosen T.S. Elliot. If there was any Modernist who did not cater to the reader, it was T.S. Elliot. His pieces do not give the reader time to dwell on any one image, as he quickly moves from one thing to another and yet another in his writing. His fragmented poems force the reader to work hard and seek outside references in order to interpret them. Furthermore, his writings, like other Modernist writings, are difficult to understand because there isn’t a unifying idea, connection, or consistency, between the fragments.
For the final author, I chose to include Imagist Hilda Doolittle. H.D. should make it into the shorter version of the Norton Anthology because not only does she successfully accomplish Ezra Pound’s principles of Imagism, but she creates complexity in the images she writes about. Her writing is simple and clear. In fact, she does not explain the intellectual or emotional meaning of the image or images she presents in her poems, but rather leaves it up to the reader to decipher that for himself.
These writers not only help us understand the time periods which they represent, but tell us more about the society in which they lived in or the society they were trying to escape. Romanticists painted emotions with their words, as they tried to illustrate the perfection they were so fond of and which they tried to get others to experience. Imagists, on the other hand, added no emotion, therefore removing subjectivity from their works. They, unlike the Romanticists, left it up to the reader to emotionally connect with the object on their own terms. Modernists, much like Imagists, leave their work open for interpretation. However, Modernist writing is more complex than that of Imagists, exemplifying the difficult times they lived in. It takes a lot of questioning and investigation on the reader’s part to make sense of what someone such as T.S. Elliot created, sometimes making no progress.
These three authors will help students develop critical reading and writing skills as they attempt to analyze their works. As students struggle in their analysis of these difficult pieces, they will develop the ability to deeply question the writers’ purpose and the bigger ideas that connect to culture and history. They will be able to engage in the exchange of ideas to gain further insight of these literary masterpieces. Finally, students will leave the class with an enjoyable experience of their creative journeys.
I have chosen Walt Whitman to represent the Romantic Period because he is a true Romanticist. In every one of his works, he gets very intimate, and often times sexual, with his surroundings. He takes in all of the sights, sounds, smells, and feelings that surround him, and reflects this in his writing. Whitman really draws the reader into his emotions. One can truly feel as though one is living the experiences that he portrays. Whitman describes his fascination with the simple things in life and turns our attention to their perfection.
For the Modernist Period, I have chosen T.S. Elliot. If there was any Modernist who did not cater to the reader, it was T.S. Elliot. His pieces do not give the reader time to dwell on any one image, as he quickly moves from one thing to another and yet another in his writing. His fragmented poems force the reader to work hard and seek outside references in order to interpret them. Furthermore, his writings, like other Modernist writings, are difficult to understand because there isn’t a unifying idea, connection, or consistency, between the fragments.
For the final author, I chose to include Imagist Hilda Doolittle. H.D. should make it into the shorter version of the Norton Anthology because not only does she successfully accomplish Ezra Pound’s principles of Imagism, but she creates complexity in the images she writes about. Her writing is simple and clear. In fact, she does not explain the intellectual or emotional meaning of the image or images she presents in her poems, but rather leaves it up to the reader to decipher that for himself.
These writers not only help us understand the time periods which they represent, but tell us more about the society in which they lived in or the society they were trying to escape. Romanticists painted emotions with their words, as they tried to illustrate the perfection they were so fond of and which they tried to get others to experience. Imagists, on the other hand, added no emotion, therefore removing subjectivity from their works. They, unlike the Romanticists, left it up to the reader to emotionally connect with the object on their own terms. Modernists, much like Imagists, leave their work open for interpretation. However, Modernist writing is more complex than that of Imagists, exemplifying the difficult times they lived in. It takes a lot of questioning and investigation on the reader’s part to make sense of what someone such as T.S. Elliot created, sometimes making no progress.
These three authors will help students develop critical reading and writing skills as they attempt to analyze their works. As students struggle in their analysis of these difficult pieces, they will develop the ability to deeply question the writers’ purpose and the bigger ideas that connect to culture and history. They will be able to engage in the exchange of ideas to gain further insight of these literary masterpieces. Finally, students will leave the class with an enjoyable experience of their creative journeys.
Thursday, March 11, 2010
T.S. Eliot's " The Wast Land" p.1587
Although “The Waste Land” by T.S. Eliot is very difficult to understand because of all the fragments he uses throughout his poem, it is an intriguing piece of work. From the very beginning, T.S. Eliot takes me on a trip down memory lane when he says:
My cousin’s, he took me out on a sled,
And I was frightened. He said, Marie,
Marie, hold on tight. And down we went.
In the mountains, there you feel free.
This passage reminds me of how much I loved the mountains when I was growing up. One day, my sister and I were sliding down a mountain on some cardboard sleds we made. Shortly after, we hit a bump and I flew off of the sled. I rolled all the way down the side of the mountain terrified. Even though I ended up all scraped up and with a broken arm, I will never forget how free I felt to play in the mountains.
Another passage that I really like is when he says:
‘My nerves are bad to-night. Yes, bad. Stay with me.
‘Speak to me. Why do you never speak. Speak.
‘What are you thinking of? What thinking? What?
‘I never know what you are thinking. Think.’…
‘What is that noise?’
The wind under the door.
‘What is that noise now? What is the wind doing?’
Nothing again nothing.
Although this really makes no sense, it makes me laugh. I can picture a bunch of crack heads all tweaked out and paranoid, looking out the window at any little noise.
I really like that T.S. Eliot has a good sense of humor. There are a couple of passages that made me laugh hysterically. He does a really good job of painting a very vivid picture in my mind and makes it come alive. He writes:
Now Albert’s coming back, make yourself a bit smart.
He’ll want to know what you done with that money he gave you
To get yourself some teeth. He did, I was there.
You have them all out, Lil, and get a nice set,
He said, I swear, I can’t bear to look at you.
When I read this I could picture someone scolding a girl with really messed up teeth. I could also picture a dumbfounded look on the girl’s face. All I could think of as I wiped away the tears of laughter is, “Where does he come up with this stuff?” Just when I thought it couldn’t get any funnier, he surprises me with:
Old man with wrinkled female breasts, can see…
I really like the way that T.S. Eliot comes up with some really crazy stuff and adds a twist by adding lines in a different language. Although I don’t know what it means, it flows well together.
My cousin’s, he took me out on a sled,
And I was frightened. He said, Marie,
Marie, hold on tight. And down we went.
In the mountains, there you feel free.
This passage reminds me of how much I loved the mountains when I was growing up. One day, my sister and I were sliding down a mountain on some cardboard sleds we made. Shortly after, we hit a bump and I flew off of the sled. I rolled all the way down the side of the mountain terrified. Even though I ended up all scraped up and with a broken arm, I will never forget how free I felt to play in the mountains.
Another passage that I really like is when he says:
‘My nerves are bad to-night. Yes, bad. Stay with me.
‘Speak to me. Why do you never speak. Speak.
‘What are you thinking of? What thinking? What?
‘I never know what you are thinking. Think.’…
‘What is that noise?’
The wind under the door.
‘What is that noise now? What is the wind doing?’
Nothing again nothing.
Although this really makes no sense, it makes me laugh. I can picture a bunch of crack heads all tweaked out and paranoid, looking out the window at any little noise.
I really like that T.S. Eliot has a good sense of humor. There are a couple of passages that made me laugh hysterically. He does a really good job of painting a very vivid picture in my mind and makes it come alive. He writes:
Now Albert’s coming back, make yourself a bit smart.
He’ll want to know what you done with that money he gave you
To get yourself some teeth. He did, I was there.
You have them all out, Lil, and get a nice set,
He said, I swear, I can’t bear to look at you.
When I read this I could picture someone scolding a girl with really messed up teeth. I could also picture a dumbfounded look on the girl’s face. All I could think of as I wiped away the tears of laughter is, “Where does he come up with this stuff?” Just when I thought it couldn’t get any funnier, he surprises me with:
Old man with wrinkled female breasts, can see…
I really like the way that T.S. Eliot comes up with some really crazy stuff and adds a twist by adding lines in a different language. Although I don’t know what it means, it flows well together.
Wednesday, March 3, 2010
Raymond Chandler's "Red Wind" p. 1541
What a big difference it is to be able to read something that you could understand. Raymond Chandler is a great murder mystery writer, especially for his time. I really enjoyed reading “Red Wind.” I have read many murder mystery stories, but none that placed me in a murder scene in the 1930s. I was actually able to visualize the way they dressed, the cars, and even the way they smoked their cigarettes. Chandler’s story is so detailed, it actually comes alive. I loved all the twists and turns he sets up for you. Once I picked up the book, I could not put it down.
One thing that I noticed about this piece is how Dalmas, who is a character, is also the narrator. I have read plenty of novels and never really paid attention to this very important detail. I think that reading and analyzing poetry has really paid off. The first thing I do when I read is automatically try to analyze what the author is trying to say, how he is saying it, and what it is he means by it. Another thing that I can attribute to reading poetry is the way that my mind wants to recreate what I read, giving it my own twist.
One of my favorite scenes is in the beginning when Dalmas is talking to the young bartender. They are speaking about the drunk over in the corner and the kid says: “I don’t like drunks in the first place and in the second place I don’t like them getting drunk in here (meaning his bar), and in the third place I don’t like them in the first place.” I could not stop laughing after reading this piece. What a way to start off a story!
Another thing that I like about what Chandler does with his character Dalmas, is that he lets Copernik (one of the dicks) take the credit for the capture of the murderer. Then towards the end of the story, when the dick is beating up Dalmas, Dalmas confesses everything and blackmails the dick into giving him what he wants (the pearls, papers, and names kept out of the newspaper). If the dick fails to comply, and the truth is revealed about the capture and the other solved murders the dick took credit for, he is going to look like a cheat and a liar. That was a very smooth move on his part.
The part that really confused me was when Dalmas had the fake pearls replaced with other fake pearls. After rereading and analyzing, I realized that he did it so that Lola would never find out that the pearls which were given to her by her lover were actually fake.
One thing that I noticed about this piece is how Dalmas, who is a character, is also the narrator. I have read plenty of novels and never really paid attention to this very important detail. I think that reading and analyzing poetry has really paid off. The first thing I do when I read is automatically try to analyze what the author is trying to say, how he is saying it, and what it is he means by it. Another thing that I can attribute to reading poetry is the way that my mind wants to recreate what I read, giving it my own twist.
One of my favorite scenes is in the beginning when Dalmas is talking to the young bartender. They are speaking about the drunk over in the corner and the kid says: “I don’t like drunks in the first place and in the second place I don’t like them getting drunk in here (meaning his bar), and in the third place I don’t like them in the first place.” I could not stop laughing after reading this piece. What a way to start off a story!
Another thing that I like about what Chandler does with his character Dalmas, is that he lets Copernik (one of the dicks) take the credit for the capture of the murderer. Then towards the end of the story, when the dick is beating up Dalmas, Dalmas confesses everything and blackmails the dick into giving him what he wants (the pearls, papers, and names kept out of the newspaper). If the dick fails to comply, and the truth is revealed about the capture and the other solved murders the dick took credit for, he is going to look like a cheat and a liar. That was a very smooth move on his part.
The part that really confused me was when Dalmas had the fake pearls replaced with other fake pearls. After rereading and analyzing, I realized that he did it so that Lola would never find out that the pearls which were given to her by her lover were actually fake.
Friday, February 26, 2010
Ezra Pound's "A Retrospect", p. 1505
I decided to comment on Ezra Pound’s critical piece, “A Retrospect.” He strikes me as a very intelligent individual. This piece actually reminds me of George Orwell’s piece, “Politics and Education.” I am inclined to think that Pound may have had some influence on Orwell.
I enjoyed the way he criticizes "vers libre.” I especially enjoyed the part where he says, “Indeed vers libre has become as prolix and as verbose as any of the flaccid varieties that preceded it. It has brought faults of its own. The actual language and phrasing is often as bad as that of our elders without even the excuse that the words are shovelled in to fill a metric pattern or to complete the noise of a rhyme-sound.” I could not help but laugh when I read this. There have been times when I have read poetry and I cannot make out what the author is trying to say. As I recall, I had a teacher in grade school that would recite some poems that did not make any sense, but because they rhymed or sounded good, she would read them to us. We never really liked the poems she read, but we always asked her to recite them so that we could kill time.
One of the passages I found most striking is when he says, “Be influenced by as many great artists as you can, but have the decency either to acknowledge the debt outright, or try to conceal it.” Usually all writers are influenced by other writers. Pound suggests that whether they are past or present writers, one should acknowledge their talent and give credit where credit is due. However, you may pass a piece off as your own as long as you don’t sound exactly like the artist you are influenced by.
I find it interesting that Pound criticizes the principles of Imagism, a method he once used to write poetry. I wonder what may have happened to turn him against Imagism. Perhaps his work did not do so well. It could also have been that he learned more through experience and he and the other two poets who made the three suggestions (“demanding direct treatment, economy of words, and the sequence of the musical phrase”) were trying to find a rebirth for old poetry. Perhaps, it was frustrating to them that, because of the superfluity of Imagism, poetry was becoming so abstract that it was not as enjoyable.
Although Pound speaks of poetry, this piece nevertheless made me reflect on my writing and how I may be using superfluous words. I know I sure don’t like it when I have to read something so difficult that I need a dictionary to make sense of it! So, from now on, I will try to check my writing to make sure that every word counts.
I enjoyed the way he criticizes "vers libre.” I especially enjoyed the part where he says, “Indeed vers libre has become as prolix and as verbose as any of the flaccid varieties that preceded it. It has brought faults of its own. The actual language and phrasing is often as bad as that of our elders without even the excuse that the words are shovelled in to fill a metric pattern or to complete the noise of a rhyme-sound.” I could not help but laugh when I read this. There have been times when I have read poetry and I cannot make out what the author is trying to say. As I recall, I had a teacher in grade school that would recite some poems that did not make any sense, but because they rhymed or sounded good, she would read them to us. We never really liked the poems she read, but we always asked her to recite them so that we could kill time.
One of the passages I found most striking is when he says, “Be influenced by as many great artists as you can, but have the decency either to acknowledge the debt outright, or try to conceal it.” Usually all writers are influenced by other writers. Pound suggests that whether they are past or present writers, one should acknowledge their talent and give credit where credit is due. However, you may pass a piece off as your own as long as you don’t sound exactly like the artist you are influenced by.
I find it interesting that Pound criticizes the principles of Imagism, a method he once used to write poetry. I wonder what may have happened to turn him against Imagism. Perhaps his work did not do so well. It could also have been that he learned more through experience and he and the other two poets who made the three suggestions (“demanding direct treatment, economy of words, and the sequence of the musical phrase”) were trying to find a rebirth for old poetry. Perhaps, it was frustrating to them that, because of the superfluity of Imagism, poetry was becoming so abstract that it was not as enjoyable.
Although Pound speaks of poetry, this piece nevertheless made me reflect on my writing and how I may be using superfluous words. I know I sure don’t like it when I have to read something so difficult that I need a dictionary to make sense of it! So, from now on, I will try to check my writing to make sure that every word counts.
Wednesday, February 17, 2010
Robert Frost's "The Wood-Pile" pg. 1399
I decided to comment about Robert Frost’s “The Wood-Pile” because he comes across as a very creative individual. I was aware of his son’s suicide and his daughter’s mental collapse from the introduction. Knowing this information helped me to formulate a comparison about his life’s trials and tribulations and the unfolding of his scenic poem “The Wood-Pile.”
From the first part of the poem, I was able to draw the conclusion that Robert Frost has been met by indecision throughout his life, and that although life has been fair he has had a few setbacks. Frost writes:
I paused and said, “I will turn back from here.
No, I will go on farther—and we shall see.”
The hard snow held me, save where now and then
One foot went through.
As I continued to read I was able to infer that the little bird he encounters is his son, who was distant and kept to himself. Frost thought it was foolish to think of what was going through his son’s mind. However, he may have saved his son from suicide if he had tried to guess what his son was thinking or going through. Frost continues to write:
A small bird flew before me. He was careful
To put a tree between us when he lighted,
And say no word to tell me who he was
Who was so foolish as to think what he thought….
One flight out sideways would have undeceived him.
Frost further explains that he forgets about the little bird due to a wood-pile. He writes:
And then there was a pile of wood for which
I forgot him and let his little fear
Carry him off the way I might have gone,
Without so much as wishing him good-night.
From this I was able to deduce that he is talking about his daughter. He used to think about his son all the time and all of a sudden he had to shift his focus to his daughter’s mental collapse. The perfect wood-pile is his daughter. He shows how this illness starts to affect her and that she just lets herself go. The tree holding the pile on one side and still growing is the part of him who wants to stay strong. The stake and prop that are holding up the wood-pile on the other side, and is about to fall is the side of him who is not taking it very well and wants to give up. Frost continues:
The wood was gray and the bark warping off it
And the pile somewhat sunken….
What held it, though, on one side was a tree
Still growing, and on one a stake and prop,
These latter about to fall
From the first part of the poem, I was able to draw the conclusion that Robert Frost has been met by indecision throughout his life, and that although life has been fair he has had a few setbacks. Frost writes:
I paused and said, “I will turn back from here.
No, I will go on farther—and we shall see.”
The hard snow held me, save where now and then
One foot went through.
As I continued to read I was able to infer that the little bird he encounters is his son, who was distant and kept to himself. Frost thought it was foolish to think of what was going through his son’s mind. However, he may have saved his son from suicide if he had tried to guess what his son was thinking or going through. Frost continues to write:
A small bird flew before me. He was careful
To put a tree between us when he lighted,
And say no word to tell me who he was
Who was so foolish as to think what he thought….
One flight out sideways would have undeceived him.
Frost further explains that he forgets about the little bird due to a wood-pile. He writes:
And then there was a pile of wood for which
I forgot him and let his little fear
Carry him off the way I might have gone,
Without so much as wishing him good-night.
From this I was able to deduce that he is talking about his daughter. He used to think about his son all the time and all of a sudden he had to shift his focus to his daughter’s mental collapse. The perfect wood-pile is his daughter. He shows how this illness starts to affect her and that she just lets herself go. The tree holding the pile on one side and still growing is the part of him who wants to stay strong. The stake and prop that are holding up the wood-pile on the other side, and is about to fall is the side of him who is not taking it very well and wants to give up. Frost continues:
The wood was gray and the bark warping off it
And the pile somewhat sunken….
What held it, though, on one side was a tree
Still growing, and on one a stake and prop,
These latter about to fall
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