The first observation of the meaning behind Harry's scar is that it makes him different. Harry Potter looks just like any average teenager, except for the lightning bolt shaped scar on his forehead. In fact, Harry thought he was an ordinary person until he discovered the extraordinary history behind his scar. How to Read Literature Like a Professor by Thomas C. Foster mentions author Vladmir Propp, who studied folktales and separated the classic story of the hero into steps. One of the first steps in the process is that the hero must be blemished in some way. Whether he be scarred, lame, or disfigured, he must bear some form of mark that sets him apart. The story of Harry Potter, who received his scar as a baby, seems to apply to this formula. Essentially, Harry's scar makes him unique, it is a physical manifestation of what makes Harry Potter so special.

Another interpretation of the meaning behind his scar could be that it stands as evidence of the damage life deals out. In literature, the most simple blemish can tell a deep personal story. Harry's scar is a constant physical reminder of the incident in which both his parents were killed by his nemesis. The scar perpetually connects Harry to his past. Not only to his traumatic experience with Voldemort, but also to his loving parents who died to protect him. Later in the story it is explained to Harry that he escaped death because his mother gave up her life for him, thus, while it is a reminder of a painful event, the scar is also a sign of his mother's limitless love. It is a symbol of the goodness in his life as well as the bad. Harry stands as an illustration of the way life leaves scars on all who experience it.

There is one more analysis of the meaning behind Harry's scar. According to Thomas C. Foster, when an author calls attention to a physical problem, it suggests that this aspect of his identity will come into play. Foster uses the story of the Oedipus to explain this theory, though I find that Harry Potter shares a few similarities. Both heroes received scars at birth and did not discover the true history behind them until much later.However, the lightning bolt on Harry's forehead seems to be like a badge of honor, visible proof of having survived a great battle and of his destiny to wage more battles in the future. It is this slight imperfection which forever marks him as a hero.

Emil Sinclair lives a life of luxury until he meets Franz Kromer. Escapades with Kromer shove Sinclair deep into an unknown world of darkness. While living half in this world of darkness and half in his family's world of light, Sinclair meets Max Demian. Demian tells Sinclair his interpretation of the story of Cain and Abel. Demian views the mark of Cain to be a mark of distinction, a mark that sets him apart from other men. Sinclair's first realization that the world of darkness is not all bad is this interpretation. To Sinclair, Abel is the world of light, and Cain is the world of darkness into which he has fallen. Sinclair is not ready to embrace this world yet; When Demian provides a path for Sinclair to enter back into the world of light Sinclair follows it.

Sinclair sees himself as Abel and Demian as Cain. Demian is the new boy at school, and he is different from other boys. He seems older, more mature. “[I]n fact, he did not strike anyone as a boy at all” (22). Demian describes Cain as “a man with something in his face that frightened the others” (24). In this way, Sinclair first sees the mark in Demian. Sinclair compares himself to Abel, the weaker brother who was sacrificed, and whom God loved. Sinclair's departure from the world of light is like Abel's death, only Sinclair finds his way back to the world of light. Sinclair sees that Demian is a “tempter” like Kromer (37). After he confesses to his parents, Sinclair still feels as though he should confess to Demian. He no longer wants anything to do with the world of darkness. Sinclair says “I did not want to sacrifice Abel to glorify Cain, not just now when I had once more become Abel” (37).

When Sinclair begins Confirmation, he finds Demian in the same class. Demian introduces Sinclair to the idea that because the world is both light and dark, one must worship a deity who is both god and devil. “[W]e ought to consider everything sacred, the entire world, not merely this artificially separated half!” (51). When the story of the Passion is taught, Demian scorns the thief who repents on the cross and praises the thief who does not. “If you had to pick a friend from between the two thieves or decide which of the two you had rather trust, you most certainly wouldn't select that sniveling convert. No, the other fellow, he's man of character” (50). Demian believes that if a person has been on a path his whole life, it is cowardly to jump from it at the end. Confirmation then takes on a whole new meaning for Sinclair. “It was not into the church that I was ready to be received but into something entirely different-into an order of thought and personality that must exist somewhere on earth and whose representative or messenger I took to be my friend” (54). Sinclair looks forward to joining Demian in this higher realm of thinking.

When Sinclair goes away to boarding school he is thrust into a world of bitterness. He begins drinking with the older boys at the school and becomes depressed. In the park one day he sees a beautiful woman whom Sinclair obsesses over her, calling her Beatrice. He is pulled from his world of drinking and depression and begins to paint. He attempts to paint Beatrice, but the painting resembles Demian along with others. Sinclair never speaks to Beatrice. Her role in the novel is more as an idea than as an actual person. She is Demian and Sinclair and Frau Eva in one, the idea that delivers him from his despair and introduces him to Abraxas. Sinclair paints another picture, this of a sparrow hawk fighting its way out of an egg. He sends it to Demian who writes a simple note back- “The bird fights its way out of the egg. The egg is the world. Who would be born must first destroy the world. The bird flies to God. That God's name is Abraxas” (76). Sinclair must destroy the world he knows in order to live freely.

Demian introduces Sinclair to Abraxas, but Sinclair has no idea who or what Abraxas is. While walking one night, Sinclair hears moving organ music and follows the organist. While talking in a bar, Sinclair mentions Abraxas to the organist and gains a teacher. The organist, Pistorius, explains the idea of Abraxas. “Sinclair, our god's name is Abraxas and he is God and Satan and he contains both the luminous and the dark world” (93). Pistorius teaches Sinclair that one can live most successfully in both worlds when one worships both god and devil. By the time he reaches this point in his life, Sinclair is ready to embrace both worlds. He stays with Demian for awhile, but eventually Demian needs to leave him. By the time Demian leaves, Sinclair was ready to be alone in the world.

Religion is an important aspect of Sinclair's life as he grows up. With his first brush with the world of darkness, Sinclair discovers a different interpretation of the story of Cain and Abel. After a stint of depression, Sinclair sees Beatrice whose presence pulls him back into the light and inadvertently introduces him to Abraxas. By the time Demian leaves Sinclair, Sinclair's religious beliefs are finally clear.

The central plot episode occurs when Hester visits Governor Bellingham's mansion to plead for the right to retain custody of her daughter, Pearl. She is a young woman entering the lavish residence of a powerful man, and she does not know whether her sojourn will be for good or ill. In the same way, Esther enters the palace of King Ahasuerus uncertain if her visit will bring tragedy or fortune. Her visit brings fortune; she is named queen, and, later in the story, she pleads with the king for the safety of her people, the Jews, just as Hester pleads for Pearl. “Esther receives the clemency of the king, who promises to grant any request she makes…Hester, appealing to Bellingham as to a king…also has her request granted” (Gartner). Adding imagery to the plotline, Bellingham's mansion is described as “Aladdin's palace” (Hawthorne), and lends a Middle Eastern semblance to the vision of the mansion; in the imagination it resembles the palace of a Middle Eastern ruler such as King Ahasuerus who ruled “from India to Ethiopia” (Esther 1:1). This scene of Hester visiting the governor's mansion demonstrates one of the connections between the two books.

Striking similarities between Esther and Hester also serve to link The Scarlet Letter and the Book of Esther. Perhaps the most obvious connection is the similarity in name. Hester is Esther with the “H” relocated to the beginning of the appellation. Gartner also emphasizes the similarities between the marital relationships of both women. Hester is married to Chillingworth, whom she does not love. In the prison, Chillingworth says to Hester, “I betrayed thy budding youth into a false and unnatural relation with my decay” (Hawthorne). In this passage, Chillingworth indicates that he is a great deal older than Hester. “Esther too has been brought into a "false and unnatural relation" with the much older Ahasuerus; she is first brought into his harem and then made his wife” (Gartner). While Hester clearly shows the greatest resemblance to Queen Esther, her public disgrace at the beginning of The Scarlet Letter reveals a parallelism to Esther's predecessor, Queen Vashti:

[L]et an irrevocable decree be issued by [King Ahasuerus] and inscribed among the laws of the Persians and Medes, forbidding Vashti to come into the presence of King Ahasuerus and authorizing the king to give her royal dignity to one more worthy than she….[T]he decree which the king will issue [will be] published throughout the land. (Esther 1:19-20).

In this way, Vashti is publicly humiliated and deposed; all peoples in the land learn of her disgrace. Hester stands on the scaffold for three hours and endures the malevolent gaze of the townspeople as a collective whole; everyone knows her disgrace as well.

Mordecai is Esther's cousin; he is reincarnated as Mr. Dimmesdale in The Scarlet Letter. Gartner depicts Mordecai as “the timid man of God.” Dimmesdale, as a minister, is also a “man of God”; he is also frail and weak, traits Hawthorne ascribes to Dimmesdale in several places: “[T]he health of Mr. Dimmesdale had evidently begun to fail…with every successive Sabbath, his cheek was paler and thinner, and his voice more tremulous than before…thus suffering under bodily disease and tortured by some black trouble of the soul….” Insofar as Mordecai is represented by Dimmesdale, “Hawthorne seems to imagine Mordecai as a weak figure who looks helplessly on as the woman he cares for is made to endure a long ordeal of shame, solitude, and isolation” (Gartner). Mordecai observes Esther in Ahasuelus's harem, but is unable to intervene on her behalf. In contrast, Dimmesdale has the ability to join Hester and alleviate some of her suffering by offering companionship, but out of cowardice is unable to do so for seven years. Gartner's comparison of Mordecai and Dimmesdale is solid except for one discrepancy: Gartner maintains that Esther and Mordecai are lovers. This would match the relationship between Hester and Dimmesdale; however, the Bible states that Mordecai takes Esther as his daughter and has no sexual relationship with her. Considering the Bible as an historical text, it is safe to say that Gartner is wrong in this area.

In The Scarlet Letter, Roger Chillingworth strives to avenge the wrong Dimmesdale inadvertently does to him. To Hester, Chillingworth says, “I shall see him tremble….Sooner or later he must needs be mine!” (Hawthorne). The Book of Esther also casts a character bent on revenge. Haman a man revered by the king, seeks revenge on Mordecai: “Haman…sought to harm Mordecai and his people…” (Esther A:17). The difference between Haman and Chillingworth is their modus operandi. In fact, their methods of executing their revenge are the exact opposite of each other. Haman seeks to kill Mordecai while Chillingworth seeks to keep Dimmesdale alive in order to prolong his suffering. In the end, however, both men are foiled, and “[t]he mechanics of vengeance…break down” (Gartner). Dimmesdale's secret is revealed; Chillingworth no longer has any leverage over him with which to extract revenge. As for Haman, King Ahasuelus finds fault with him and hangs him on the gallows he had constructed for Mordecai. Both men meet their undoing on a scaffold.

One of the major themes in both the Book of Esther and The Scarlet Letter is secrecy. “Queen Esther and Hester Prynn must both keep, and must finally disclose, a secret” (Gartner). Hester hides the identity of her daughter's father. Esther conceals her own identity as a Jew. Both secrets cause harm to the men closest to the women; Chillingworth is able to slowly torture Dimmesdale, and Haman begins a systematic killing of the Jews to hurt Mordecai. Had the secrets been revealed, Haman and Chillingworth would have had no hold over Dimmesdale and Mordecai. “The turning point of both texts may thus be the heroine's revelation of her secret…” (Gartner).

Gartner brings up one more interesting phenomenon included in both books: “The Book of Esther is the only book in the Hebrew Bible not to include the word God; The Scarlet Letter also has at its center…the absence of the word "adultery," for which the letter A patently stands.” This lack of direct reference to an integral part of the story adds one more tiny filament to a shining web of connections.

The Book of Esther and The Scarlet Letter have so much in common that it is astonishing that they should not be analyzed together more thoroughly; an entirely separate book could be written about their similarities. The basic plot line of each story is nearly identical, as are the main characters. Both stories demonstrate the triumph of good over evil with the defeat of Haman and Chillingworth. Both stories place a woman in an adverse situation. Both stories see her turn that situation to her advantage. And both stories end on a scaffold; a symbol of pain and death transformed into a symbol of triumph and love.

"The Duel" begins with Lieutenant D'Hubert relaying a message to Lieutenant Feraud from the commanding general who is disgusted by Feraud's duel against a civilian from a prominent family earlier that day, ultimately ending in the death of the civilian. D'Hubert finds Feraud at the home of a wealthy woman and gives Feraud the message. The two men arrive at Feraud's lodging where, to the shock of D'Hubert, Feraud insists on a duel to avenge the disgrace of being called out while at the home of a lady. The two men fight, with D'Hubert reluctant and defensive, until D'Hubert realizes that Feraud means to kill him. D'Hubert ends up winning the duel by slicing Feraud's arm. D'Hubert worries that he will lose face amongst his peers and knows he will be punished by the general.
Later, the two men fight a second duel with D'Hubert being stabbed in the side. He is admonished by his colonel and refuses to give up the root cause of the duel only saying that it is not over a woman.

D'Hubert ends up being promoted to captain, which angers Feraud who believes that D'Hubert earned his promotion through flattery to the commander. He vows to earn a promotion since he is unable to fight D'Hubert while they are of different ranks. Feraud earns his promotion and the two men duel for the third time. This time D'Hubert succeeds in cutting Feraud across the forehead, ending the duel and causing a scar on Feraud's head.
Before the men can fight a third duel, the two men are both promoted to colonel and serve different commands. Eventually, they both serve in the sacred battalion as they flee to France after the defeat of the Army. During their flight, the two men are forced to rely on each other in battle, the first time they are amenable to each other.

Eventually, they are both promoted to general. Feraud is set to be made an example of, but D'Hubert secretly arranges for Feraud's name to be removed from the list of prospective victims of the restored monarchy. It is only after Feraud is retired and finds out that D'Hubert is given a command, that he challenges D'Hubert to a final duel with pistols.
By this time D'Hubert is engaged to a woman, Adèle, but feels awkward and undeserving of her love. The eve of his duel with Feraud, he fears that his wife-to-be will not mourn him and happily find another. The two men fight and D'Hubert bests Feraud telling the man that his life, according to the code of honor, belongs to him. D'Hubert leaves and finds Adèle upset on his bed because upon hearing the news of her betrothed in a duel, she ran to D'Hubert's home mourning thus proving her love to D'Hubert.

At this point, D'Hubert knows Adèle loves him and in a twist of fate, owes it to his nemesis, Feraud. He pays Feraud a pension without letting his enemy know who it came from him out of debt for finding out that Adèle loved him.

The duel between the two men becomes famous even decades after the actual first encounter. The fascination of the other characters with the origin of the duel reflects Conrad's obsession "with the obscure genesis, in human emotion or ideation, of an extraordinary event." (Nolte 225)

The two men could be considered a doppelganger, since they are such opposites. However, it's their differences that are core to the story. Both men relate directly to a particular aspect of the era.

Feraud is born a common man. He seems to delight in battle and courageous acts and disdains the staff officers, who he includes D'Hubert among. He considers them to be men who gain rank through flattery of superiors rather than through battle.

"He saw in this promotion an intrigue, a conspiracy, a cowardly manoeuvre. That colonel knew what he was doing. He had hastened to recommend his favourite for a step." (Conrad)

Feraud is constantly referred to as brash, fearless and hot-headed. For him, the only thing that is allowable in regard to the duel is the utter defeat of D'Hubert.

Feraud is a reference to Napoleon, who accepted nothing less than total defeat of the enemy. Napoleon was known to be a brash man who not only favored battle over concessions for peace, but actually enjoyed battle.

If Feraud can be compared to Napoleon, D'Hubert represents the royalists. He is aristocratic, cool-tempered and often more concerned with his personal position and favor among his peers than the duel. His relation to the royalists is demonstrated in the favor he has with the restored royalist government, which causes the final duel.

Both men, when considered together, indirectly reflect the state of France. When France is successful and the battles are won, they are most at odds with each other. During the first two duels, they both possess the most animosity towards each other. At that time, the French army was undefeatable. Even though they are both promoted at this time, they share little joy, since they are either encumbered with official duties or are plotting against or fighting each other.

"It was only after the occupation of that town that Captain Feraud found leisure to consider his future conduct in view of the fact that Captain D'Hubert had been given the position of third aide-de-camp to the marshal. He considered it a great part of a night, and in the morning summoned two sympathetic friends." (Conrad)

However, when the French Army is at its worst, the two men are most amenable toward each other. During the long march home from the devastatingly unsuccessful invasion of Russia, the feud between two men is reduced to point where they are both soldiers who rely more on instinct and military knowledge to survive and have no time or ability to focus on the duel between the two of them.

"Though often marching in the ranks, or skirmishing in the woods side by side, the two officers ignored each other; this not so much from inimical intention as from a very real indifference. All their store of moral energy was expended in resisting the terrific enmity of nature and the crushing sense of irretrievable disaster." (Conrad)

They come to the point where they need to depend on each other to survive and cast aside the duel.

"they found themselves cut off in the woods by a small party of Cossacks. A score of fur-capped, hairy horsemen rode to and fro, brandishing their lances in ominous silence; but the two officers had no mind to lay down their arms, and Colonel Feraud suddenly spoke up in a hoarse, growling voice, bringing his firelock to the shoulder: "You take the nearest brute, Colonel D'Hubert; I'll settle the next one. I am a better shot than you are." Colonel D'Hubert nodded over his levelled musket. Their shoulders were pressed against the trunk of a large tree;"(Conrad)

Both these excerpts demonstrate the inverse relationship between the Napoleonic army and the men when taken together. However, there is also a direct relationship between the individual men in regard to France.

After the restoration, when France is again a monarchy, D'Hubert is progressively more and more successful. He retains his rank, no small feat in and of itself. He also finds a woman whom he falls in love with, promising a bright future just as the future of France is bright with the wars of the empire in the past and the monarch restored. D'Hubert forgets the duels and focuses on the courting of Adèle. The pending union of D'Hubert and Adèle reflects the unity of France and the peace and fruitfulness of the less warlike, more stable monarchy.

Unlike D'Hubert, Feraud's life gets progressively worse and likely would have ended in his execution if not for the intervention of D'Hubert. Feraud loses his command and is retired. This is the most devastating thing that could happen to the man who lived his life from battle to battle. Like Napoleon, locked away in his prison on an island in the Atlantic, Feraud is forced to stay in a particular town lest he interfere in the newly re-established government. His condition is essentially the same as Napoleon's in that he has fallen from one of the most successful military men in France to an inconsequential commoner (Wikipedia).

The difference between the two men is what causes the duels and fuels further conflicts initiated by Feraud. However, the duels have the strange effect of making both men better than they would have likely been otherwise.

For Feraud, it's the success of D'Hubert, which pushes him to excel and earn rank. He is disgusted by his enemy's promotion and resorts to methods of promotion he would have disdained otherwise.

"Of a happy-go-lucky disposition, of a temperament more pugnacious than military, Lieutenant Feraud had been content to give and receive blows for sheer love of armed strife, and without much thought of advancement; but now an urgent desire to get on sprang up in his breast. This fighter by vocation resolved in his mind to seize showy occasions and to court the favourable opinion of his chiefs like a mere worldling." (Conrad)

The success of D'Hubert also served to save Feraud's life, even though he never knew it. For D'Hubert, the duel served as a way to check his progress. He is constantly worried about his place in society and it's conceivable that had he not had to worry about the duel from time to time, he would have been more successful and of eventual interest to the restored monarchy. Had he been allowed to work through the ranks unhindered by Feraud, his name would have likely have graced the list of names to be made examples of by the crown.

 

"The Duel" serves as a drama of the Napoleonic era as told through the lives of two men whose private battle reflects the very real battle going on around them.

Even in the beginning, Jack's personality is distinctly powerful and ruthless. It is interesting to note that, after a storm and a plane crash, Jack still is able to gather together and lead a perfect formation of choir boys in a flawless march down the beach. Even from the outset, he has tremendous leadership ability. He also exhibits extreme callousness and is able to spread this callousness to the other boys. In the very beginning, Jack commands his underlings to ignore Simon when he faints though at that time they were reluctant to show such blatant ignorance to the suffering of a human being. In the choir boy's minds, however, Jack's almost godlike presence seems to rationalize anything that he actually instructs them to do (or not do). In this way, Jack is able to make some theoretically benign and sensible people act like callous and brutal machines in practice. One must wonder if Jack uses the sort of leadership methods exhibited by Hitler or any brutal dictator. After the war, when members of the German army were shown videos of their own atrocities, many descended into tears. It was almost as if, with their leader gone, they no longer had anyone to help them rationalize or deny their own behavior. Suddenly, they found themselves back in possession of their own thoughts, and their own thoughts suddenly realized what had really happened. Illusions of order, power, and enjoyment melted away, allowing more basic and truthful human emotions and philosophies to break the surface. Jack develops this leadership “method” throughout the story and the other boys find it increasingly convenient to allow him to be responsible (after all, why argue with someone when they let you do exactly what you want) while they let remorse and logical thought to float out into the breeze. Jack further recognizes this willingness presented by the other boys to invest themselves entirely in his false logic and rationalization and he capitalizes further on it and learns its intricacies and carefully toes the limits of its effectiveness. There was often a slight reluctance to do his bidding: the boys did not feel quite normal ignoring Simon as he lay prostrate on the ground, nor did they particularly want to tie up SamnEric but Jack knew his aura of “reason” and power would shift them just that slight bit more. Also, Jack utilized even more advanced leadership methods that could be more closely described as mind control and manipulation. He used the “dance” to great effect in his later stages of leadership. This dance was originally inspired by one of the greater motivators of all time: fear. Jack, through a sort of study of the other boys, learned that he need only utter the word “Beast” and cast himself as the sole means of salvation to invoke an intense and feral response of anger and violence that could be easily redirected through any additional connection of the Beast or the means to escape it to whatever he may have wanted done at the time. Also, the very fact that Jack saw the “Beast” seemed to help the effectiveness of this method. His own (though arguably lessened) fear helped him sincerely establish this fear in the others. By experiencing this fear, he was better equipped to inflict it.

It was also interesting to watch as the bonds of civilization fell away from Jack like so many worn out clothes. Jack's passage into brutality was a battle with himself, though more with what civilization had applied to him. He passed from disregarding Simon when he faints, to barely checking his arm short of the writhing piglet, to severing a pigs head and preparing to bring Ralph's head to the same fate. In many ways, it was simply the passage of time and the isolation that allowed civilization to slip away. It is likely that Jack slowly stopped visualizing the reaction of his parents or his teachers to his every action. On a remote island, it is likely easy to stop thinking in the context of civilization's response, instead Jack began to be his own judge. Here is a fundamental difference between Jack and say…Simon. Jack adheres to civilizations rules due to little more than a sort of conditioning. He knows that negative actions bring negative responses (or at least used to). In Simon's case however, right and wrong is either more deeply ingrained or it is actually a fundamental part of his entire being. Even without outside influence, Simon actually seems to be a sensitive and loving person as a default. Jack, on the other hand, quickly becomes a vehicle of his every whim and desire. In a sense, he enjoys an ultimate freedom near the end of the story. He is separate from the bonds of sensibilities, remorse and consideration for the feelings of others. He is the only person in the world to worry about. It is not as if this happens all at once. There are hurdles to pass, steps to make towards the final destination of savagery. The killing of the sow was a huge step for Jack. It allowed him to prove to the once well rooted vestiges of civilization inside himself that he was indeed capable of savagery and bloodshed, that he could cut throats and stab with spears and instruct a horde of followers to do likewise. There is some amazing phenomena that causes us to be able to do something with relative ease once we have done it once. Jack decapitates an animal once, and Golding leaves us little doubt that Jack, in a much later stage of his escape from society, would be able to move another step and do the same to Ralph.

It is arguable that without Jack, the events on the island would not have escalated the way they did. Unfortunately, Jack developed immensely by shrugging off the influence of morals and compassion and learning how to control others in a sick supplement to his destructive newfound freedom. No evil or manipulative person seems to simply become their full fledged form instantly; they must evolve, learn the required techniques, and free themselves from any positive influence that has been cast around them.

Casy, while obviously imperfect, unlike Jesus, eventually demonstrates quite Christ like altruism and finally self sacrifice. He also has the same initials…Casy views the poor as his people, a group bound to his protection, much like Jesus viewed his own “flock”. Casy's calm acceptance of his own sacrifice is another powerful quality, once again utilized as well by the Good Book. In fact, much like Jesus Himself, Casy understands and even accepts outright betrayal by those he sacrifices his life to protect: “An' know what? Them folks he been tryin' to help tossed him out. Jus' as natural as rain.” (525)

In the same vein, Casy wins the ultimate victory by forgiving his killers for their sin: “You fellas don' know what you're doin'”(527). Jesus does the same, asking: "Father forgive them; they know not what they do." This unconditional forgiveness and wisdom in the face of murder entails a purity and clarity of mind many of us would love to possess. Such a powerful act is not fascinating simply because of its appearance in the Bible; rather, it fascinates people because it is a rare and powerful expression of pure goodness. While Casy's actual actions pale somewhat in comparison to those of Christ, we could certainly imagine the story of Casy emerging thousands of years later, raised to the same level by centuries of retelling. Regardless of the truth of the exact comparison, Steinbeck explores the same themes with Casy as the Bible relies on with Jesus.

Unfortunately, nearly every work of fiction has a character that can plausibly be declared a “Jesus”. This comparison is somewhat stale, though many are fascinated by the concepts of true altruism and moral purity. However, the scene with Uncle John and the baby is more complex and arguably more unique. Still, the parallels with the story of Baby Moses in the Bullrushes should ring a bell in the heads of any American over the age of....eight or so. Like Moses, the baby released by John journeys as a desperate hope for an entire people: “Go down an' tell em'. Go down in the street an' rot an' tell em' that way. That's the way you can talk.”(609) Desperation obviously exists in any situation where a newborn is left to the mercy of the water and charged with the future of an entire people. Yet, if we examine this metaphor directly, we may also imply that this sacrifice will pay off, that “They'll know then” (609). Just as Moses ultimately returned to the Hebrews and led them to freedom, so to might we imply that the lot of the migrants will eventually improve, that they might be delivered from eternal slavery. Still, there is no possibility of a stillborn baby returning and literally leading a people to freedom. In all probability, Steinbeck never intended the comparison to be interpreted literally, if at all.

Arguably, Steinbeck could have hardly ended the book more expertly than with the potent atmospheric backdrop of the flood. Any major flood, like the great Biblical Flood, provides a clear separation of time. There is the time before, and the time after. The flood brings a new beginning. Its way is destructive, but the ultimate result is a cleansing, a purification like the one that God took to an extreme in the Bible. After the flood, everything, to a degree, starts anew. Thus, by ending the book with a flood, Steinbeck gifts us with a surprising sense of hope, mysterious in its origins, possibly sensed by Rose of Sharon when “her lips came together and she smiled mysteriously.” Floods also add an interesting new dimension to human interaction. Every action is more desperate, but, at the same time, more pure, free from the usual underhanded, implied meanings of conversation and relationships in everyday life. It is through this time of clarity that Ma's control over the family is finally realized and understood: “Were a- getting outa here”, she said savagely, “getting to higher groun. An you're comin or you aint comin but im takin Rosasharn an the little fellas outa here” (613). Ma's rise to power is implied throughout the novel, but the flood provides the desperate backdrop against which her dominance springs into permanence. While the flood hardly exhibits the qualities of the Great Flood with any degree of accuracy, its connotations and its hold on our psyche are certainly related.

Steinbeck probably never crafted his writing merely in order to invoke comparisons with Biblical text. Instead, he, like many other storytellers, realized that the Bible has some good ideas for when it comes time to gain a hold on readers' emotions and thoughts. Authors tend towards these themes because they are things people have been thinking about for a very long time. Probably even before the Bible was written.

The setting of this novel plays a significant role in distinctly establishing the historical perspective of events as well as the societal values prevalent at the time. The narrative is set in 1920's America near New York. The First World War had just ended and an opposite reaction against the suffering and hardships of war swept through the nation. This came in the form of a diametric change to lifestyle, attitude and the general outlook on life. The austerity of war time was determinedly pushed to the boundaries of memory, to be replaced by gaiety, high living and the seeking of wild pleasures.

The parties hosted by Gatsby represent the attitudes of society as a whole - "In his blue gardens men and girls came and went like moths among the whisperings and the champagne and the stars." Pertinent descriptions of the people who attend these parties can be made. Subsequently, their mindlessness and shallowness in their hedonistic behaviour are portrayed as the symptoms of an illness which festered in society.

This was also the Age of Prohibition in which the consumption and supply of alcohol were declared illicit. Due to the inability of this law to be effectively enforced, corruption became rampant and gangsterism saw its golden era. New easy money could be made. Wolfsheim is a sinister representation of these underworld activities, as do the true origins of Gatsby's money - "… I carry on a little business on the side… a rather confidential sort of thing." Jazz music, the Charleston dance and motor cars were introduced. This period, known as the Roaring Twenties, the Jazz Age and the Aspirin Age saw society profusely peopled with caricatures who cared for nothing except for the satisfaction of their pleasures. This led to amorality, insubstantiality in character and an increasingly vulgar decadence.

The degradation of the American dream - a dream of an ideal world where all humankind had equal rights to pursue happiness, freedom and hope - is reflected by the stagnation of society. The idealistic American dream seems to have been shattered by the corruption and materialism of the higher classes. What is additionally shown to be tragic is the loss of spiritual depth in the working classes, illustrated by the self-destructive ambition to climb the social ladder (represented by Myrtle Wilson) and the apathetic lack of aspirations (represented by George Wilson). Power based on gender has been addressed by the negative portrayal of female characters and the dominant positions that men hold in the patriarchal society.

Characterisation in the novel is especially important in drawing certain responses from the reader for the aspects of society that each character represents. Contrasts can be made between the lifestyles of the classes. The Buchanans, through their contemptuous dialogue when referring to "new"money, affected gestures and artificial responses, demonstrate that they are only alive when indulging in worldly materialism. They are dead to all sense of decency and genuine feeling.

Tom Buchanan's power and arrogance is derived from his physical bulk and large inheritance of respectable "old" money. He controls everyone through implied physical intimidation, such as in - "… his determination to have my company bordered on violence." This referred to Tom wanting to show the narrator his mistress, like showing off a prized possession. Daisy Buchanan is quickly indicated to be a shallow character. Her voice is described to be "full of money" and her graceful affectations - "[her] murmur was only to make people lean toward her" give her a façade of insincerity and emptiness.

Gatsby's character, by contrast, is infused with energy and vigour. His hopes, dreams and subsequent actions to reach them gives him life and vitality - "He had thrown himself into [his dream] with a creative passion…" Gatsby's had a purpose in life, in contrast to the Buchanan's aimlessness, even though his one object of desire had to be gained through the construction of a façade and the ostentatious display of wealth.

The narrative point of view is taken through the eyes of Nick Carraway. A reason that pertain to him being a reliable narrator is his inherent nature in withholding judgment - "I'm inclined to reserve all judgments." Other reasons include his background from the Mid-West, associated with traditional family values, his links between each character, his honesty - "I am one of the few honest people that I have ever known", and finally, his naïvety in the corrupt relations among the wealthy. The retrospective plot enables him to tell the story with some consideration on what he had learnt from the course of events and with the benefit of fore-knowledge.

Tone of the narrator is important in defining his opinion of the comments made by other characters and in the description of setting. Nick occasionally injects sarcasm or a sense of irony in his critical analysis of various people. Through sarcastic replies and personal ironic thoughts, he can act as a mouthpiece for the author to ridicule society's love for affectation and malicious gossip. The description of the setting is another medium by which Nick can give his negative impressions of society. The impression given of Myrtle's apartment - "… crowded to the doors with … tapestried furniture entirely too large for it…" is a pretense of wealth. It is obviously overdone and instead of showing taste, she has only displayed her avaricious desire for money.

The audience is thereby positioned through these interdependent techniques to abhor the Buchanans because of their lack of spiritual insight and the people who attend Gatsby's parties because of their innate parasitic nature - "People were not invited - they went there.""Her laughter, her gestures, her assertaions became more violently affected.""Can't repeat the past?… Why of course you can!" Nick himself is placed as the balance point between the extremes of the forces of idealism, unreality and romanticism as opposed to materialism, insubstantiality and worldliness. Myrtle is also despised as she chases materialistic goals by putting on shallow performances - The audience, however, sympathises with Gatsby, even though we may disapprove of his overwhelmingly unrealistic fantasy of repeating the past -

Imagery and symbolism are the major constituents which give the story greater meaning and depth. A symbolic colour, yellow, which is mentioned frequently may indicate the colour of champagne and the gold of money, both of which, during the Prohibition, were a sign of corruption. This connection can be made with the knowledge of the context. Gatsby's real person can be segregated from his façade by the symbolic differentiation of his room from the rest of the house - "His bedroom was the simplest room of all…" Gatsby's true person had depth but the enormity and vast fantasy of his aspirations had forced him to don the all-concealing cloak of ostentation and insubstantiality. The imagery used to describe the "valley of the ashes" contrasts its oppressive, static environment with the airy, chaotic pulsation of Gatsby's parties.

The opposition of the ways of life between the two classes is categorised by the broad division of East and West Egg. The initial descriptions of their physical appearance - "… identical in contour… physical resemblance a source of perpetual wonder" are ironically contrasted with the tags society places on them - "West Egg… the less fashionable, a most superficial tag to express the bizarre and sinister contrast between them." That a person can be pre-judged by where he resides, the type of money he has (old or new) and the rumours surrounding his background - all display the foundation of social relations, based on fraudulence and facades.

Women in the novel are depicted as being overpowered by men both socially and physically. An example is when Tom casually resorts to physical violence to settle a meaningless argument with Myrtle - "… broke her nose with his open hand." In a patriarchal society, the ideal woman should only have an ornamental role - "gorgeous, scarcely human orchid of a woman." They are only possessions. Even Gatsby's obsession with Daisy is due to his need to possess her and her total love - "tell [Tom] the truth - that you never loved him… and you loved only me."

Fitzgerald has been able to convey the themes in a specific context though the use of the literary techniques. What he wrote challenged the values which dominated the American society, most of which had been influenced by the historical post-war conditions, the Prohibition and the changing national identity of the era. Despite the destruction of idealism by materialism, a fresh burst of hope is injected in the resolution, as expressed by Nick - "… tomorrow we will run faster, stretch out our arms farther… So we beat on, boats against the current, borne back ceaselessly in the the past."

The rhyme scheme used by Poe in his poem “The Raven” is described as ABCBBB. Every stanza in “The Raven” follows this rhyme scheme to create a very structured poem. Poe also uses internal rhyme where two words in the third rhyme will rhyme with each other and with another word in the fourth line. In the second stanza the word morrow in line three rhymes with the word borrow also in line three and sorrow in line four. Poe also uses repetition to not only conform to his rhyme scheme, but to emphasize the word as well. “'Wretch,' I cried, 'thy God hath lent thee - by these angels he hath sent thee” (Raven: 81) is an example of Poe using repetition to rhyme. Poe used trochaic octameter for his poem. Poe used many other devices in his poem such as alliteration and consonance. “Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before;” (Raven: 26) is an example of alliteration and consonance. Poe used alliteration to increase the effect of the line. “The silken, sad, uncertain rustling of each purple curtain” (Raven: 13) is an example of an onomatopoeia used by Poe in his poem.

The tone of “The Raven” is morbid and depressing. Poe used a man who had lost his lost Lenore to deepen the melancholy feeling, because losing a loved one is the grimmest subjects there is. Poe had a raven, an already grim animal, to repeat the word “nevermore” whenever the narrator would speak to it. One other way Poe increased the melancholy effect is the torture of the narrator. The answer the narrator received each time was already predetermined and both the reader and the narrator knew what the reply was going to be; therefore, continuously torturing the narrator.

Poe also used many similes, metaphors, and examples of personification. “Quoth the Raven 'Nevermore'” (Raven: 48) is an example of personification found in Poe's poem “The Raven”. Since birds cannot really talk, the raven was given a human characteristic of speech. “And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon's that is dreaming,” is an example of a metaphor used in “The Raven” by Poe to compare the raven's eyes to a demon's; therefore, comparing the raven to a demon. “That one word, as if his soul in that one word he did outpour.” (Raven: 56) is an example of a simile that Poe used to compare the raven's reply to the narrators state of grief.

Poe used many devices to produce the melancholy feeling found in his poem “The Raven” including alliteration, assonance, consonance, and onomatopoeia. The tone of the poem was created using depressing symbols, topics, and themes. Poe followed a very strict rhyme scheme throughout the entire poem. After looking through the poem and carefully examining how much work was put into it to make it so strict, we can conclude that the poem was carefully though through and produced by a literary genius to have pieced it all together so perfectly.