I have to confess something. I bawled my eyes out with this story! The Prologue was what got me started. The feeling of loneliness and anger was so tangible that I felt and sympathized with every word. It was a relief though when he snuck in little hints of humor to lighten the mood. Like his comment about Poe when he referred to Poe’s mental health, how he was screwing the power company and how he was a ‘tinker thinker’.
For the most part, I could identify with this character on such a basic level during the Prologue that it was uncanny. It was like looking in a timeless mirror and seeing my own circumstances laid out in front of me, “You ache with the need to convince yourself that you do exist in the real world…I did not come alive until I discovered my invisibility.” The worth of one’s self comes from one’s self. But at what cost does it take to realize this?
Then, when the story actually started, I was taken in a different direction. To circumstances that I can not even put into perspective. To think that that kind of stuff really happed is just so unreal to me! How could anyone treat another human being in this way? To laugh and enjoy the pain and humility of another person is so inhumane.
I felt so bad for this character when all he could think about was going ahead and giving his speech he had prepared, even after what those men had done to him. I understand the time period, but even then, if it was me, I would have had a few not lady like words to say to them and possibly a few hand jesters to go along with them!
It wasn’t only the White people that did injustice to this young man. His own Grandfather did harm to him also! He did harm to the whole family for that matter! How dare he say the things he did on his death bed? Talk about laying a guilt trip! How could this boy go throughout life from then on without self hate. He was bound to be messed up when no matter what he did was wrong in someone’s eyes. “And whenever things went well for me I remember my grandfather and felt guilty and uncomfortable.” This character had no chance, and it was a shame. He got it from both directions just because of his skin color. There was one good thing though, his tenacity. I don’t think I could have been so tenacious.
I’m not sure how this story ends, but I hope Ellison lets this character have something good happen in his life, he deserves it. I am definitely going to have to get the full story and find out!
Tuesday, April 20, 2010
Saturday, April 17, 2010
Robert Hayden 'Those Winter Sundays' pg 2264
I was struck with a sadness when I read Robert Hayden’s “Those Winter Sundays”. Though it was one of the shorter poems we have read this semester, it was one of the more saddening ones. One that talked of regret, mixed with admiration and the missed opportunity to show and teach love.
The father was clearly a very hard working man that showed his love by deeds; making sure the house was warm in the winter, and even polishing his son’s shoes. However, by working so hard, he missed the opportunity to teach his son how to love. Actions speak louder than words, including the actions of giving a hug, or just spending time with a person.
I felt the father lacked in expressing this kind of love and in doing so, his son did not learn what love is about and how to express it, as he says so himself at the end of the poem, “What did I know, what did I know of love’s austere and lonely offices?”. This is very sad as children grow up so fast and learn what they see. Love should never be lonely nor should it be a job to express it.
But the responsibility does not only lay with the father. The son also has missed opportunities to acknowledge what the father does, not out of duty, but out of love. Maybe this was how the father was taught to love, in turn, teaching the son these very things. However, the son could have gotten up to help split wood, or taken time to polish his father’s shoes for once, as his own gestures of love and appreciation.
As it seems, these opportunities have passed and the time to say ‘thank you’ is gone. It sounds as if the father has passed away and now the son is reflecting on these missed opportunities. Reflecting upon the indifference that he had toward his father and the anger that was in the house. I think that maybe he was wishing that things would have been different, that he should have said thank you and acknowledged what his father had done for him. To simply tell his father that he loved him. Something that he did not know how to do as a child.
This poem has almost a pleading tone in the son’s voice as if to say that he was sorry for not appreciating his father when it would have counted to do so. It is sad to think that these memories, memories that he clearly cherished, that he held of his father were mixed with one’s of regret.
As I have learned the hard way, living with regret is no way to live. One shouldn’t wait until it is too late to acknowledge something before they say or act to change it. It’s sad that this son has done this very thing. Because of this, maybe the son has learned how to finally love and appreciate. Unfortunately it is the hard way to learn.
The father was clearly a very hard working man that showed his love by deeds; making sure the house was warm in the winter, and even polishing his son’s shoes. However, by working so hard, he missed the opportunity to teach his son how to love. Actions speak louder than words, including the actions of giving a hug, or just spending time with a person.
I felt the father lacked in expressing this kind of love and in doing so, his son did not learn what love is about and how to express it, as he says so himself at the end of the poem, “What did I know, what did I know of love’s austere and lonely offices?”. This is very sad as children grow up so fast and learn what they see. Love should never be lonely nor should it be a job to express it.
But the responsibility does not only lay with the father. The son also has missed opportunities to acknowledge what the father does, not out of duty, but out of love. Maybe this was how the father was taught to love, in turn, teaching the son these very things. However, the son could have gotten up to help split wood, or taken time to polish his father’s shoes for once, as his own gestures of love and appreciation.
As it seems, these opportunities have passed and the time to say ‘thank you’ is gone. It sounds as if the father has passed away and now the son is reflecting on these missed opportunities. Reflecting upon the indifference that he had toward his father and the anger that was in the house. I think that maybe he was wishing that things would have been different, that he should have said thank you and acknowledged what his father had done for him. To simply tell his father that he loved him. Something that he did not know how to do as a child.
This poem has almost a pleading tone in the son’s voice as if to say that he was sorry for not appreciating his father when it would have counted to do so. It is sad to think that these memories, memories that he clearly cherished, that he held of his father were mixed with one’s of regret.
As I have learned the hard way, living with regret is no way to live. One shouldn’t wait until it is too late to acknowledge something before they say or act to change it. It’s sad that this son has done this very thing. Because of this, maybe the son has learned how to finally love and appreciate. Unfortunately it is the hard way to learn.
Friday, April 2, 2010
Essay #2 Pitch
I have chosen to go with pitch #3, Text and Context, for my final essay. I will attempt to write a chapter on Imagism in a really hip textbook. I do not own a corduroy jacket, but hopefully it will turn out just as well. I shall keep my fingers crossed.
I chose Imagism because I think it was a very important step forward in all literary work since its conception. Though this movement was short lived, it held a lasting impact on future writers and poets.
With imagism, there is no confusion on what you are reading, the images are clear. This is apposed to the earlier eras where the words were complicated and sometimes felt disjointed from the image. This is if you could even find an image from having to stop and decipher all the words.
Imagism is the ‘the bare bones and punk rock of poetry’. (Scott Weaver) With imagism, you have the image of what is being said as soon as you read it. It may not make since at first, but the image is clear. Then, when reread and pondered upon what you have read, you get this ‘ah ha’ moment and the image suddenly expands.
This is important, for me at least, because you are not lost in the words, but the image itself, thus allowing a reader to go back and analyze their own interpretation. For me, when I read something, I try to imagine what I am reading while I am reading it. I try to ‘see’ and understand at that precise moment of what is being said. Then, when I ponder on that image I have in my head, suddenly this one image explodes into many.
Ezra Pound and his ’cohorts’ may have been revolting against the Romantic era optimism and they may have just been trying to get their ’circle’ of friends published, but the fact remains that the literary world was changed forever.
Imagism may not be easy to interpret and it may sometimes make a person say ‘OK, that’s different’, but the fact remains, imagism was a very important movement that apparently was, and is here to stay.
I will try to write this chapter so that these undergraduate students can appreciate the value of an era that was short lived, but had a lasting impact on the world.
I chose Imagism because I think it was a very important step forward in all literary work since its conception. Though this movement was short lived, it held a lasting impact on future writers and poets.
With imagism, there is no confusion on what you are reading, the images are clear. This is apposed to the earlier eras where the words were complicated and sometimes felt disjointed from the image. This is if you could even find an image from having to stop and decipher all the words.
Imagism is the ‘the bare bones and punk rock of poetry’. (Scott Weaver) With imagism, you have the image of what is being said as soon as you read it. It may not make since at first, but the image is clear. Then, when reread and pondered upon what you have read, you get this ‘ah ha’ moment and the image suddenly expands.
This is important, for me at least, because you are not lost in the words, but the image itself, thus allowing a reader to go back and analyze their own interpretation. For me, when I read something, I try to imagine what I am reading while I am reading it. I try to ‘see’ and understand at that precise moment of what is being said. Then, when I ponder on that image I have in my head, suddenly this one image explodes into many.
Ezra Pound and his ’cohorts’ may have been revolting against the Romantic era optimism and they may have just been trying to get their ’circle’ of friends published, but the fact remains that the literary world was changed forever.
Imagism may not be easy to interpret and it may sometimes make a person say ‘OK, that’s different’, but the fact remains, imagism was a very important movement that apparently was, and is here to stay.
I will try to write this chapter so that these undergraduate students can appreciate the value of an era that was short lived, but had a lasting impact on the world.
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