The Wasteland was, by far, the most confusing piece of poetry I have ever read. So many references to things and people. While reading through, I had a really hard time coming up with a center to the poem, a place where it started and where it was going to.
From what we have been talking about in class and about Modernists, modernism is very fragmented and broken up. It is almost like stream of consciousness, where new ideas come in and old ideas leave whenever the poet wants them to. Elliot is a prime example of a modernist poet, by this definition. He starts talking about the seasons, which I can follow, but continues to bring in new ideas, which is where I get lost. I read and re-read through this poem, but could not get a handle of what it was about. I think the best way to actually understand this poem would be to absolutely rip it apart and disect everything. But then again, it is hard to do. How do we know what Elliot was saying, or more so, how do we know what he was feeling?
By this poem, The Wasteland, it seems as though Elliot is a very dark character. So many words in this poem point to this. He is constantly using descriptive words that make me think he likes the color grey. He seems like that kind of man. Very plain on the outside, but his mind like a very complex machine, spirting out things all over the place.
Thursday, March 8, 2007
Wednesday, February 21, 2007
Zitkala Sa
When reading Impressions of an Indian Childhood, I got the strong impression that her mom hated the white western settlers. In the first story, My Mother, Sa's mother even states that the only man who is real is the Dakota. From the time that Zitkala is a child, it is drilled into her brain that the white man is evil and the only men to trust are those of her kind.
The two themes that kept reappearing were the evil of the white man and also the heritage and tradition. In Native American culture, there is a big focus on their heritage and ancestors. In almost every story, there was a mention of someone who was dead or of someone who had passed away. Also, the objects of their culture kept reappearing. The moccasins and little trinkets were mentioned in a majority of the stories.
Overall, the sense that I got from this story was change. Zitkala's mother seems to mourn the assimilation act (which she has every right to mourn). As a child, I do not think that Sa understood exactly what was going on when the settlers wanted to give the children an education. Yes, they were educated, but they were not treated with respect. The settlers never knew their traditions, and did things carelessly at the education schools (such as cutting off the braids of the children, which was only done in a time of mourning.) The children came back and couldn't fit with the westerners, but they no longer fit in with their people either. From a little background information, this is what I got out of Gertrude Simmons Bonnin's short essays.
The two themes that kept reappearing were the evil of the white man and also the heritage and tradition. In Native American culture, there is a big focus on their heritage and ancestors. In almost every story, there was a mention of someone who was dead or of someone who had passed away. Also, the objects of their culture kept reappearing. The moccasins and little trinkets were mentioned in a majority of the stories.
Overall, the sense that I got from this story was change. Zitkala's mother seems to mourn the assimilation act (which she has every right to mourn). As a child, I do not think that Sa understood exactly what was going on when the settlers wanted to give the children an education. Yes, they were educated, but they were not treated with respect. The settlers never knew their traditions, and did things carelessly at the education schools (such as cutting off the braids of the children, which was only done in a time of mourning.) The children came back and couldn't fit with the westerners, but they no longer fit in with their people either. From a little background information, this is what I got out of Gertrude Simmons Bonnin's short essays.
Tuesday, February 13, 2007
Washington Vs. Dubois
When reading these two pieces, I couldn't help but thinking about language. Even though professional language must be used when trying to sound intelligent, I wish that essays were written in a language that was everyday. It makes it so much harder to study if the language is stiff. Was there ever a person in history that was not worried about professional language?
With that said, Washington was very reasonable, although I felt as though he was safe. I feel like Washington was a man who liked to please everyone. He makes this crazy comparison, where he compares blacks and whites to a little bucket story. I think that if I were an african american at this time, it would infuriate me. This story displayed the dependence that blacks had on whites at the time. What I took from the story is if the blacks did not have whites to fill up the bucket, they would be shit out of luck. Even though Washington makes this crazy thought that blacks and whites can be friends (crazy thought for the time), I tend to think that he didn't really believe this. How can one man be so passionate about friendship with his enemy?
Dubois seems to disagree with Washingtons views a little. The main fact that I saw disagreement in was the place of blacks in society. Although they both agree that blacks should be in the work field, I think that Dubois concentrates more on education. Dubois believes that as long as a man has an education, they can make it in the world (with their brains maybe). Washington believes that as long as a man works hard enough, and gets a good successful job, they can advance in society.
With that said, Washington was very reasonable, although I felt as though he was safe. I feel like Washington was a man who liked to please everyone. He makes this crazy comparison, where he compares blacks and whites to a little bucket story. I think that if I were an african american at this time, it would infuriate me. This story displayed the dependence that blacks had on whites at the time. What I took from the story is if the blacks did not have whites to fill up the bucket, they would be shit out of luck. Even though Washington makes this crazy thought that blacks and whites can be friends (crazy thought for the time), I tend to think that he didn't really believe this. How can one man be so passionate about friendship with his enemy?
Dubois seems to disagree with Washingtons views a little. The main fact that I saw disagreement in was the place of blacks in society. Although they both agree that blacks should be in the work field, I think that Dubois concentrates more on education. Dubois believes that as long as a man has an education, they can make it in the world (with their brains maybe). Washington believes that as long as a man works hard enough, and gets a good successful job, they can advance in society.
Tuesday, February 6, 2007
Regionalistic story
Instead of waking to her alarm, Jenna woke up to the beeping of the TV, along with the warnings of Don Paul, informing the listeners that many schools and activities in Erie County and neighboring counties have been closed. As she waited for her schools name to flash across the screen, she heard a snap of a branch in her backyard. It came from the tree that her childhood treehouse was in. The big maple, that he great-Grandfather had planted when her Grandpa was ten. It crack came from the exact branch she had fallen from on her eighth birthday, which resulted in a hospital trip and an arm sling.
Mount Mercy, Nardin Academy, Niagara Falls. She unknowingly scratched her arm, eagerly awaiting her schools name to flash along with the many others. Fredonia, Frewsburg, Gowanda. Holland. No! In one short minute, her hopes for a snow day had been crushed. The thought of having to leave her warm bed to get into the shower made her head hurt. She subconsciously groaned, just loud enough to disturb her cat that had curled up on the end of her bed.
"Honey, don't forget to pack your ski stuff for tonight. It's Thursday! You have ski club," her Mom bellowed up the stairs. Thursday was the highlight of Jenna's week, every week. Almost to the weekend, but not quite there yet. Having something to look forward to, such as skiing, made the week go by so much faster. Hopefully, Holiday Valley was in the mist of a blizzard. Jenna always loved skiing when it was snowing. Especially when there was powder on the slopes.
Jenna quickley got up and jumped into the shower. She was surprised at how much she wasn't dreading the day, even though every school surrounding her own had the day off. Maybe, just once, the stingy superintendent would cancel school. He always has an excuse to make us go, she thought to herself.
Once Jenna got to school, all she could think about was the night she had ahead of her. I wonder if Jordan will sit with me on the way to skiing, she quietly asked herself. Jordan was the boy that everyone swooned over. He knew he was good looking and used it to his full advantage. As she thought about it, she looked out the window to see a little freshman getting blown around in the snow. "School should have been cancelled," whispered her best friend, Kate, as she hurried to walk along side of Jenna. "Tell me about it," said Jenna, "but don't worry, we still get to go skiing tonight! Something to look forward to at least."
By sixth period, the snow had picked up, but Jenna had hardly noticed, due to the new substitute teacher that had taken the place of Mr. Glore, the highschool's oldest english teacher and the most boring by far. Mr. Glore had been out for about a week and would not be coming back anytime soon. He was having surgery to try and fix his deathly receeding hairline. The new substitute could not have been a day over 22, and Jenna sat, entranced.
After sixth period, the principal came over the loud speaker. "Due to the extensive weather conditions, school will be closing early today. All afterschool activities are cancelled."
Even though Jenna had been looking forward to skiing, a big grin slid across her face as she thought about her warm bed. "I guess I can deal with a half day," she thought.
Mount Mercy, Nardin Academy, Niagara Falls. She unknowingly scratched her arm, eagerly awaiting her schools name to flash along with the many others. Fredonia, Frewsburg, Gowanda. Holland. No! In one short minute, her hopes for a snow day had been crushed. The thought of having to leave her warm bed to get into the shower made her head hurt. She subconsciously groaned, just loud enough to disturb her cat that had curled up on the end of her bed.
"Honey, don't forget to pack your ski stuff for tonight. It's Thursday! You have ski club," her Mom bellowed up the stairs. Thursday was the highlight of Jenna's week, every week. Almost to the weekend, but not quite there yet. Having something to look forward to, such as skiing, made the week go by so much faster. Hopefully, Holiday Valley was in the mist of a blizzard. Jenna always loved skiing when it was snowing. Especially when there was powder on the slopes.
Jenna quickley got up and jumped into the shower. She was surprised at how much she wasn't dreading the day, even though every school surrounding her own had the day off. Maybe, just once, the stingy superintendent would cancel school. He always has an excuse to make us go, she thought to herself.
Once Jenna got to school, all she could think about was the night she had ahead of her. I wonder if Jordan will sit with me on the way to skiing, she quietly asked herself. Jordan was the boy that everyone swooned over. He knew he was good looking and used it to his full advantage. As she thought about it, she looked out the window to see a little freshman getting blown around in the snow. "School should have been cancelled," whispered her best friend, Kate, as she hurried to walk along side of Jenna. "Tell me about it," said Jenna, "but don't worry, we still get to go skiing tonight! Something to look forward to at least."
By sixth period, the snow had picked up, but Jenna had hardly noticed, due to the new substitute teacher that had taken the place of Mr. Glore, the highschool's oldest english teacher and the most boring by far. Mr. Glore had been out for about a week and would not be coming back anytime soon. He was having surgery to try and fix his deathly receeding hairline. The new substitute could not have been a day over 22, and Jenna sat, entranced.
After sixth period, the principal came over the loud speaker. "Due to the extensive weather conditions, school will be closing early today. All afterschool activities are cancelled."
Even though Jenna had been looking forward to skiing, a big grin slid across her face as she thought about her warm bed. "I guess I can deal with a half day," she thought.
Monday, January 29, 2007
Henry James/ Edith Wharton
In "The Art of Fiction," Henry James describes his idea of how fiction should be written and viewed. He first started out by talking about different people's views on fiction, such as the french and then proceeded to quote and go back to the lecture by Besant. James says, "Art lives upon discussion, upon experiment, upon curiousity, upon variety of attempt, upon the exchange of views and the comparison of standpoints; and there is a presumption that those times when no one has anything particular to say about it, and has no reason to give for practice or preference though they may be times of honour, are not times of development-are times, possibly even, a little of dulness."(554) James gives his opinion of art by saying that there is a point in which it has to go through a period of scrutiny. Art is present to be discussed and talked about. Whether or not people agree with this, this is how it is. James then talks about his opinion on fiction. I was not sure what he was trying to get at with this section but this quote that I found kind of sums up what I got out of it. "The only effectual way to lay it to rest is to emphasise the analogy to which I just alluded- to insist on the fact that as the picture is reality, so the novel is history."(555)
When comparing this critical article to Wharton, it was a little hard to find comparison. I took what I got out of James' article, and started looking for things to compare from Wharton. In doing so, I think I missed the whole enjoyment process that usually takes place while reading. Even so, I think that James talks a lot about fiction and how fiction is based somewhat on people's real experiences and histories. I feel as though Lydia (the main character in Souls Belated) had a lot of Edith Wharton in her. In Wharton's little biography in the beginning, it says that she was born in NYC, and was always somewhat of a city girl. In Souls Belated, it is obvious that Lydia is a city girl, and enjoys the city. She even at some point tries to convince Gannett to move to the city. "But I thought- I remember your telling me once that your best work had been done in a crowd - in big cities. Why should you shut yourself up in a desert?"(851). I think that with the idea that James brings up in his essay about fiction being based on reality, Wharton definitely displays this in her writing.
When comparing this critical article to Wharton, it was a little hard to find comparison. I took what I got out of James' article, and started looking for things to compare from Wharton. In doing so, I think I missed the whole enjoyment process that usually takes place while reading. Even so, I think that James talks a lot about fiction and how fiction is based somewhat on people's real experiences and histories. I feel as though Lydia (the main character in Souls Belated) had a lot of Edith Wharton in her. In Wharton's little biography in the beginning, it says that she was born in NYC, and was always somewhat of a city girl. In Souls Belated, it is obvious that Lydia is a city girl, and enjoys the city. She even at some point tries to convince Gannett to move to the city. "But I thought- I remember your telling me once that your best work had been done in a crowd - in big cities. Why should you shut yourself up in a desert?"(851). I think that with the idea that James brings up in his essay about fiction being based on reality, Wharton definitely displays this in her writing.
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