Inquiry Question

Writing a story, be it fact or fiction, can be a somewhat overwhelming consideration for the average person. Even seasoned writers have difficulty with certain aspects of the writing process. There are certain formal conventions that we're supposed to follow so the material is familiar enough to make it easy to read; the reader should not get lost in figuring out punctuation or quoted passages. There are times, however, when such formalities aren't really necessary.
Inquiry Question: What does a reader experience when they choose a book or short story that has been written in a manner that is not familiar?
For example, the late Frank McCourt wrote three highly acclaimed memoirs in such a style that illustrates the elimination of formality. This might not seem so unusual except that he was an English teacher. It is reasonable to expect that an English teacher would be a stickler for following the established "rules" of writing.
In Robert W. Miles’ book review, in 2000, of Frank McCourt’s book, ‘Tis: A Memoir, he notes that in 1954 McCourt’s style of writing was deemed as “direct.” McCourt’s instructor encouraged him to “explore his rich past.” It may have taken several years for McCourt to act on this advice; however, his style had not changed once he became an educated adult. His works have been a consistent demonstration of throwing convention to the wind and writing from the heart. McCourt was not attempting to convey pity for having such a rough beginning in life, but rather he set out to provide an example of how one can accomplish a goal, regardless of the lack of ability, or desire, to conform to the orthodox manner of writing to become a blockade.
I was given some great advice once, years ago, about writing (in fact I don't recall who it was). This person said, "write as though you're talking directly to the person." I thought his made perfect sense; after all, isn't that what you're really doing, "talking" to someone. I think McCourt must have had this same idea when he wrote because when you read his books, you feel as though he's speaking to you; telling his story. We don't see punctuation when we listen, we hear inflection and tones that guide our understanding.
I asked my daughter, Angela, and sister, Joanne, (both major book-worms) how they adapted to McCourt's books. They both agreed that at first the style was fairly unfamiliar, but it didn't take long to become comfortable with his style and the story was captivating; like listening to the story and not actually reading it. I too felt this same way when I first started to read Angela's Ashes. I read the first several pages before realized the quotation marks were absent. I wondered if I had missed who was saying what. I went back and read over some of the previous pages, I thumbed through the rest of the book; still no quotations. Okay - so be it. I was already "in to" the story and wasn't going to put it down for lack of formal writing convention.
Have you ever wanted to write your memoir, a short story, or a novel but were too intimidated by no knowing all the "rules"? I say, follow McCourt's lead and just do it! Write it as if no one will ever read it or grade it. Like the familiar saying, dance as if no one is watching.

Works cited

Brooks, Angela. Personal interview. 14 Nov. 2009.

Girardi, Joanne. Personal interview. 21 Nov. 2009.

Miles, Robert W. Frank McCourt’s Second Memoir. (Book Review). Sewanee Review, Summer 2000. Vol. 108, Issue 3. Retrieved from Academic Search Premier.

"O" - Entry 16 (out of sequence)

This modern day remake of Shakespeare's classic play, Othello, in my opinion, was done brilliantly. The story line followed the original so well; it's obvious this film was not just thrown together to make a quick Hollywood dollar.
In scene 16 the camera pans up the spiral staircase in the dorm where, at the top of the case, Hugo is describing to Odin his flawless plan to deal with Michael and Desi. The spiral staircase serves as a subtle symbol of a situation that is about to spiral out of control.
Hugo has planted the seed of jealousy in Odin's mind and has fed it so well; cultivating it to the point of being out of control. Hugo played on the weakness of Odin's need to self medicate his jealousy by supplying him with alcohol and crack-cocaine, all the while knowing this is a deadly combination when mixed with raging jealousy.
Hugo tells Odin, "You're everything to me O. You're not my friend, you're my brother. When a brother's been wronged, so have I..." Hugo then describes in detail the sequence of events and time lines that he has devised and assures Odin that his plan will work. As Hugo describes his plan it is depicted to the audience, step by step. But who's thoughts are we seeing; Hugo's or Odin's?
I think we're seeing Odin's imagination as Hugo narrates. This imagination prompts Odin to inquire about a third party who will be involved; the picked on and angry side kick, Roger. Roger also has an ax to grind and is a willing participant to get revenge.
This scene is important to the story because it emphasizes how Hugo has managed to manipulate several different people simultaneously without any one of them suspecting his ulterior motive. Just like the original play - this tragedy depicts the dangers of jealousy.
I gave this film a "two-thumbs up."

Freestyle 19

My husband and I went to town today to take care of a couple of errands. We stopped by Fred's to get a new set of sheets in preparation for our next new bed that will arrive next week ("next," because it's the 3rd one in seven years - but that's another story). As we walked through the double electric doors - there was Christmas staring us in the face; again! It was just here, or so it seemed to us.
Maybe because we really don't go shopping all that often is why we feel this way. At first we were mumbling and grumbling about it all and why can't they just wait till after Thanksgiving to decorate, and aren't those the same sale items they had last time?
Then I began to think about it all and how much fun we actually have when we dig in to our Christmas fund and spend it on the grandkids. We look through catalogs, solicit the kids for ideas, ask their parents for input, and talk to other grandparents about what they're getting for their grandkids. Since we don't have exposure through television to all the latest and greatest in kids' toys - we're pretty reliant on others for ideas. But at any rate, we want the gifts to be something unique and out of the mainstream.
Books are often a large part of out total purchase. Sometimes they're very elaborate with all the pop-ups and such (for the younger kids), and sometimes they're just the good old fashioned hard cover classics.
I made a vow a few years ago to buy locally. So far, I've been able to keep that vow at least for 90% of our purchases. And not just locally in the few "big box" retailers, but the local shop owners who don't belong to a big chain. It is amazing some of the very unique things you will find in these shops - and a lot of the time, they're things not made in China!!
Even though it seems like we just put away the Christmas decorations - I'm really excited to go Christmas shopping again.

Othello - Quote Response 18

In scene III Desdemona is summoned to stand before her father and confess her love for and marriage to Othello, "My noble Father,
I do perceive here a divided duty.
To you I am bound for life and education;
My life and education both do learn me
How to respect you. You are the lord of duty;
I am hitherto your daughter. But here's my husband,
And so much duty as my mother showed
To you, preferring you before her father,
So much I challenge that I may profess
Due to the Moor my lord" (Shakespeare 954).
What I like about this quote is that Desdemona was very straightforward, yet abstract, with how she justifies her marriage to Othello. Knowing that her father has great admiration and trust for Othello, she really did not need to testify about his character. She only needed to make her case by using the example of her mother's duty and loyalty to her father as her love and duty to Othello.
I think Shakespeare was very clever to not make this passage a lot longer with all the typical hard to follow dialogue that needs translation to make more sense of what's being said.

Trifles - 17

Mrs. Peters: "She said she wanted an apron. funny thing to want, for there isn't much to get dirty in jail, goodness knows. But I suppose just to make her feel more natural..." (Glaspell 838). This piece of dialogue is relevant in telling the audience that the woman being held for questioning about an alleged crime is scared; she needs a piece of security to help her through this difficult and scary time. Just as a child would need their security blanket. It's indicative also of how people will act or react when they're faced with a situation in which they don't know what to do; they struggle to stay connected to sanity, to feel safe and grounded, "normal" if you will.
Most everyone has experienced this in life. They did something or were witness to something so shocking that their mind transitioned in to unknown territory in an effort to cope. This particular passage is important in that it's a subtle message that the mind can snap in a traumatic moment, causing a retreat in to the most secure subconscious; such as childhood.

Satrapi - Quote Response 14

Anoosh, Marji's beloved uncle, has been executed after being accused of being a Russian spy. Marji finds herself at odds with her faith and feels let down by God; she believed that he would prevail over evil and protect Anoosh. Anoosh assured her too that everything would be alright. As she lays on her bed in her dark room, alone and stricken with anger and grief, she envisions God, and he asks, "Marji, what seems to be the problem?" She rises up, stands on her bed and denounces God, "Shut up, you! Get out of my life!!! I never want to see you again! GET OUT!" At that moment her father yells to her, "Marji, run to the basement! We're being bombed!" (Marjane Satrapi, pp. 70-71)
The illustrations on these two pages speak louder than the words. As Marji is thrown in to that out of body experience that comes with shocking news, she proclaims, "And I was so lost, without any bearings...what could be worse than that?" (p. 71). Marji's God has let her down and Anoosh has been taken away forever. She feels as though she has been tossed in to outer space, alone and confused.
Why did she believe that God would intervene? Why did she rely on God in the first place? Why does anyone rely on God to provide safety, bounty,... a new car? Isn't it really inner peace and strength that faith in a supreme being is supposed to bring? When the outcome to a difficult situation or event is unlikely to be good, but it happens, it's a miracle; when the outcome is not so favorable, it's God's will. Marji has learned that it's really out of any one's control, including God's. There are two forces at work at all times; good and evil, dark and light, yin and yang.

Poem Paraphrase - Entry 12

Triolet, by Robert Bridges, is a short poem that reveals the common phenomenon of the human love relationship and the work that is required to keep the love alive.
"When first we met we did not guess
That Love would prove so hard a master;"
Of course not, why would anyone even give a second thought to what lies ahead when you're newly in love. But isn't this what's referred to as "the honey moon must be over."
"Of more than common friendliness
When first we met we did not guess."
Once the newness wears off, a couple is of course still in love, but the intensity of day to day interactions are now quite subdued and are more equivalent to a strong friendship.
"Who could foretell this sore distress,
This irretrievable disaster
When first we met - We did not guess
That Love would prove so hard a master."
At this point, the poem takes a turn and suggests that the relationship that Bridges is writing about has become quite strained. Perhaps the couple has moved away from even the common courtesy of "friendliness."
The repeating line about love being a task master emphasises the pain-staking difficulty of keeping a relationship in strong.
This old poem certainly is ageless. Relationships are never just easy, they take a lot of work; ask anyone.

Symbol - Quote-Response 13

"Of mansions never quite disclosed
And never quite concealed
The Apparatus of the Dark
To ignorance revealed."

This last stanza of Emily Dickinson's poem, "The Lightning is a yellow Fork," the mansion is a significant symbol that reveals the direction that Dickinson wants the reader's interpretation to move toward; the Lightening is from the heavens.
Mansion is the symbol that is synonymous with the heavens; "mansions in the sky" and other such expressions have been used throughout time to equate heaven as being as wonderful as living in a mansion.

"Found" Haiku

Education sucks
Nobody understands me
Disappear from here


After reading "Teenage Wasteland" by Anne Tyler (Kennedy 36-42) I wrote this Haiki (my first). This story is set in an era I can relate to, but the story itself is ageless really. It tells of a young teen who struggles to suceed in the conventional education system and the parents who are at a loss with how to handle the situation; sadly a common theme still today.

Blog Entry 8

Poem:
"Those Winter Sundays" by Robert Hayden (Kennedy pp. 779)

Paraphrase:
Even on Sunday, the day of rest, “father got up early”(779). The air was so cold is can only be described as “blueblack”(779). Father’s hands were intensely worn from working outdoors; it was a thankless job. The crackling fire indicated that the cold was turning to warmth. This was the prelude to being summoned out of the warmth of the bed; apprehensively getting dressed to face another day of endless madness. Don’t dare mutter a word of complaint, and be grateful for how father’s love is demonstrated, no matter the form.

Comix Strip on the "Critics Discussing O'Connor"

http://www.makebeliefscomix.com/Comix/?comix_id=12094964C150308

Freestyle Number Seven

Fiction and Nonfiction.
As much as I enjoy reading short (fiction) stories, I seem to have a tendency to look for the weakness in the story. I don’t know if this is the reason I like nonfiction more, but when I read nonfiction I only find myself asking questions that would bring clarity to the story; I’m not questioning the reality of it.
I understand that with fiction, there are some things that have to be assumed in order to tie certain ideas or events in with the story line. I also understand that fiction is often derived from real life stuff. At any rate, it’s a struggle for me, most of the time, to sit down and spend time reading or watching a movie that is made up stuff.
I haven’t always had this affliction; it started about ten years ago and just seems to be more prevalent as I get older. About this time I was on a John Grisham kick and would stay up till the wee hours to finish a book. I knew these stories were based on real cases, which made it even more interesting to me. But then something happened; the questions in my head were now along the line of, “oh, how could that be?” rather than, “I wonder…” and I switched to exclusively reading biographies and history.
The paradox is such that, as I get older, I feel as if I should spend more leisure time on things that aren’t of great importance but just more entertaining, like reading fiction. After all, one of my all time favorite movies is The Wizard of Oz. I watched it recently (for the, oh, 100th time maybe) with two of my grandchildren; not once did I get up or find any flaws with the story line. Maybe there’s hope for me still.

A Clean, Well-Lighted Place"

“And what do you lack?”
“Everything but work.”
(Kennedy 150)
In this short story by Ernest Hemingway, we learn about an older deaf man who frequents a café and is the subject of the two waiters; one young and the other old. It’s obvious that the younger waiter is irritated with the older deaf man because he stays late and sometimes leaves without paying. The quote above reveals, to me, that the older waiter can relate to the old deaf patron; one works at the cafe and the other frequents the café, and both men don’t seem to have much more going on in their lives. Both of the older men are lonely and stay out till early in the morning. Their inability to verbally communicate disables them from engaging in chit-chat they might otherwise enjoy; which would fill a void of loneliness.

The Story of an Hour, Kate Chopin

In reading from Kennedy, it is said that Kate Chopin had the “ability to write short stories of compressed intensity” (pp. 326). After reading The Story of an Hour, I would say this is, at best, an understatement.
Okay – I must stop my reader and advise you that I’ve given then end of the story away in this posting. So, if you’re interested in reading it for yourself first – please take the opportunity to exit and come back after you’ve read it.
Mrs. Mallard is the main character in this short story who, upon hearing of her husband’s supposed death in an accident, is at first distraught and wants only to be alone. I think this is probably something that a lot of people can relate to and therefore, it’s easy to understand why Chopin would describe her immediate need for seclusion. Chopin makes sure the reader knows early on that Mrs. Mallard is “afflicted with a heart trouble” (Chopin 326) as this is quite useful to the way the story takes the reader on a path of possible outcomes.
As I read from sentence to sentence my assumptions about where this “hour” would end were many, but not once did I consider the turn that Chopin takes at the end, after all, Mrs. Mallard was obviously overjoyed at the reality of being widowed. Once it became apparent that she was through the initial shock of her husband’s death, and that she was beginning to feel a sort of liberation; I wondered what the significance of the heart affliction actually was.
As it turns out, she dies, and her husband is not dead. He arrives home within minutes of her dying, and he would never know what had transpired in her mind in the previous hour. I would be willing to bet that Alfred Hitchcock would have enjoyed this story, and probably did; it’s right up his alley.
I have to admit that I picked this story for my freestyle blog posting because, well, it’s really short and time right now is of a premium. But as the old saying goes, “good things come in small packages.”

Miss. Brill Has a Bad Day

“Yes, I have been an actress for a long time” (Wolff 86): Miss. Brill’s proud proclamation in response to an inquiry of her profession.
“But why? Because of that stupid old thing at the end there?” (Wolff 86): A young lad’s response to his date’s resistance to a risky public display of affection.
Wow – talk about being hit in the gut! Who doesn’t love to sit and people watch, and no one would expect to encounter this level of emotional devastation from such an innocent past time. Obviously, Miss. Brill has taken people watching to another level; she’s created a diversion from her otherwise lonely existence. Isn’t this what we might equate to modern day “reality TV,” another method of escapism?
Miss. Brill was having an exceptionally grand time on this particular day, and then all of a sudden, a few thoughtless words of a selfish young lad, trying to steal a romantic moment in public with his young love, and she finds herself immersed in mental agony.
Wolff does an exceptional job in creating a climax by building up a mental picture of this elderly, yet sophisticated, woman who is taking in every moment that surrounds her. She was so pleased to be watching the young couple, “…beautifully dressed; they were in love” (Wolff 86). As she attempts to eavesdrop for her own enjoyment and amusement, she is stabbed in the throat when she is referred to as the “stupid old thing” (Wolff 86) sitting within ear shot. Was this punishment for her taking the liberty of being the voyeur? At this moment, the reader can feel her pain. But even when she finds herself back in the solitude of her home, she has refused to acknowledge herself as being the source of the sound of whimpering, and instead transfers it to her little dead furry friend, “But when she put the lid on [the box] she thought she heard something crying” (Wolff 87); the ultimate form of denial.

Freestyle - The Chris Farley Show

During the break between summer and fall classes I started reading several books, one of which is The Chris Farley Show written by Tom Farley, Jr. and Tanner Colby. For those you who are familiar with Chris Farley, I don’t have to say much to convince you that he was an endearing, yet troubled, young comedian who met with an untimely death. If you’re not familiar with Farley and his repertoire of characters from Saturday Night Live and his movies, I suggest (if you’re interested) to check out the SNL archives (circa early 90’s)featuring him as the motivational speaker, Matt Foley and/or his movie with David Spade, Tommy Boy.
This book is written in a style that allows you, the reader, to feel as though you’re sitting in a room listening to his friends and family members reminisce about their interactions with this comedic genius. Each person gives a short paragraph or two in each chapter of the book that takes up where the previous person leaves off, or they begin a new story or an account of some experience they had with Farley. It’s done in a no holds barred honest account of their feelings and opinions about what Farley did, should have done, could have done, and how he touched them on some level.
I enjoy biographies, and autobiographies, and recommend this book to those who also enjoy the real-life stories of others. This story also demonstrates the destructiveness of addiction and how it can rule and dictate an individual’s struggle to “be clean,” as well as the profound affect that an addict can have on the people around them, close or otherwise. There is a common theme among those who are afflicted with the addictive gene; there is only one pivotal moment in which their lives change forever.

"A & P"

“By the time I got her feathers smoothed and her goodies into a bag – she gives me a little snort in passing, if she’d been born at the right time they would have burned her over in Salem…”
“You never know for sure how girls’ minds work (do you really think it’s a mind in there or just a little buzz like a bee in a glass jar?) but you got the idea she had talked the other two into coming in here with her, and now she is showing them how to do it, walk slow and hold yourself straight.” (Updike, pp. 15-16)
In reading this short story there are several adjectives that give me the impression that Updike’s character, “Sammy” is somewhat of a misogynist and perhaps a pervert. A word like “feathers” to imply the woman in his check-out line is a hold hen, and his suggestion that the girls’ minds (and those of girls in general) are relatively empty except for the “buzz.” He assigns each of the three girls a nickname to indicate a level of attractiveness as if they’re just objects to toy with.
Further on in the story it’s obvious he’s actually an immature hormonal post adolescent who finds himself in a moment of impulsiveness for, what seems to be, defending the honor of the young ladies who he disappear and miss his heroic act.
This story is colorful, humorous, and actively engaging. At the point where you begin to have total disdain for young Sammy, it takes a turn and it’s obvious that his family has aligned with his impetuous decision to walk off his job in defense of the young girls. At the conclusion of this story Sammy realizes that his actions were in fact quite dramatic by his statement, “and my stomach kind of fell as I felt how hard the world was going to be to me hereafter” (pp. 19). Did life really become difficult or was that just his fearful assumption at that moment? Did he actually meet the girls later on and befriend them? If so, were they impressed with his defense of their defiance of the store’s dress policy? Perhaps quitting the job at the A&P lead to better things for him; got him out of a possible rut. It’s all left to each reader’s imagination and what they want for the smart-alec young Sammy.

Reading

My reading life began very early on. My father read to my siblings and me on a very regular basis. I remember learning to read in the first grade. By that time I had the basic words mastered; cat, rat, hat, sat, pat, Sally, Dick, Jane, Spot, and fluffy, it was time to move ahead. This was a good reading experience for me because the stories were short and they rhymed. So far, so good. As I progressed in to Dr. Seuss, I was still doing quite well. Still, no problem. I then found the Baby Bear books; "Emily in the Woods," and "Baby Bear." I especially liked these books because of the cellophane book covers; I felt like I was getting into some grown up stuff. As I entered in to the third grade the reading material became more sophisticated. Suddenly, the chapters were longer, more words, bigger words; I was having some major problems with comprehension. In fact, the teacher's words still echo in my mind, "Janet is a good reader, but she's having problems with comprehension." I wasn't even sure what "comprehension" was, but I knew it was my problem. And I wondered, does that have anything to do with the fact that I can read several pages but not remember what I read? From that point, reading was a struggle. I enjoyed reading, but I preferred to read short stories.
As it turns out - many years later and a test in my adult life, I discovered I have dyslexia, which also explains my struggle with math; but that's another story.
Dyslexia, combined with an attention span equal to a fly, has presented a struggle for me. However, it hasn't kept me from reading. In fact, I read several books concurrently without any trouble, as long as I am able to read at my own pace; no problem what-so-ever!
My oldest sister is a book worm. She can read the same book several times and never loose interest. She reads fiction and non-fiction with equal enthusiasm. She is so book smart it's not funny; I'm envious of her ability to read and retain.
One of my granddaughters has a photographic memory. We often cook and bake together. I have her read the recipe and then we set about the kitchen preparing to create some sort of baked good or other such delight. I never need to check the instructions because she has them locked in. She's twelve. Talk about intimidating. If you want to know anything about anything, she's your go-to person!
My husband is an avid reader as well. His interests are politics and art. He will sit down with a magazine and quietly read, but within a short time - he's "sawing logs." He works too hard.
In retrospect, I know why as a child I enjoyed listening to the radio programs, and still do to this day. Sunday evening is dedicated to A Prarie Home Companion. I heard recently that Garrison Keelor had a stroke, but that he was sitting in his hospital bed with his laptop. I sure do appreciate his tenacity.