classics

Five Poems Every Aspiring Poet Needs to Read

Wed, 19 Nov 2008 04:21:08 PST

These are some of the major poems that helped me on my way. Often I go back to them for inspiration. Hopefully they will be an inspiration to you as well.

The Highwayman

For those of us who love a touch of romance and tragedy, this poem gives more than enough of it. Unfortunately, the book's preview is nothing like the poem. I wouldn't advise you to read Kiss of The Highwayman unless you want to.

Alfred Noyes' poem is the perfect example of a wonderfully written poem. It rhymes, it builds, it masterfully uses repetition… what can I say? It's a masterpiece. Alfred Noyes, born in 1880, published this poem in Forty Singing Seamen and Other Poems, in 1907. It is arguably his most beloved poem.

The Lady of Shallot

This beautiful poem is told in true Tennyson fashion. It is a tale of King Arthur's court, and is filled with the magic that comes with tales such as these. It is a special treat to read again.

Where you can view the poem with art work. It is a lovely experience. Tennyson taught me the art of using figurative language. He also helped me develop pacing and rhyme.

The Raven

This poem and I go way back. We met in the sixth grade and I've frequently revisited it since. I love Poe. He may have been a drunk in his day but I still think he was an awesome writer. He's amazing, dark yes, but also amazing. I recommend Poe to all aspiring poets. This sadly tragic and painful poem helped me understand the importance of images. Just read it and see what effect the “shadow” in the last stanza has on you!

Annabel Lee

Ah, sweet and melancholy. Poe managed to capture a broad range of human emotions in his poem. Anger, love, passion, and sorrow, all drip from his pen, masterfully arranged by his genius. If you want to learn to move the heart of your reader, or if you'd like to know how the masters did it, this is the poem to read.

In Memoriam

image source

I recommend that you read the whole thing. I remember stumbling upon it in my AP English textbook, my beloved Norton. At once I was captured by the pain and the passion, the sorrow, and the anguish that Tennyson poured out onto those pages. Each poem breathed with life I'd never seen before. I want to share a little bit of his poem here,

“I sometimes hold it half a sin
To put in words the grief I feel:
For words, like Nature, half reveal
And half conceal the Soul within” (Tennyson, 5). Can you feel that? That is pure beauty.

I encourage all aspiring poets to study these writers. Study all of the poets you can get your hands on, but especially these; these are the ones that will be your foundation; these are the ones that will make others wonder at your mastery of the language, at your instinctive pacing and internal rhyme, at your ability to let the poem run wild and yet have it stream from the paper and to the reader like a powerful beam of sunlight into one central direction. Happy reading! Till next time.

Joys of Reading

Tue, 28 Oct 2008 07:05:36 PST

Sometimes the simplest act of kindness can leave a lasting impression and even redirect ones life. I recently recalled an incident which occurred when I was eight years of age in 1945 which helped to direct my interests to the wonderful world of reading. Until then, my interests were limited to those of most eight year old farm boys in 1945. We created our own recreation and we were quite inventive and ingenious in doing so. We wandered freely across the steep, wooded hills, the grassy plains and the Cow Bayou bottoms in search of adventures. We played inside the cotton gin that sat only a few yards from our residence (when it was not in use during ginning season) and we found many other activities when we were not working in the fields. Walking, with bare feet during warm weather, and riding bicycles were our means of transportation. On that day that opened a new world to me (reading), Momma sent me up the gravel road that climbed steeply about one hundred yards and across the “main” gravel road, to Mrs. Jones’ house to get a cup of sugar, I believe. Mrs. Jones was the epitome of a lady of class and distinction. She was very much respected and she was refined and well educated, very unusual for the times. She was a widow lady who managed the farm lands left by her husband at his death. When I got to the door of her beautiful house, which reminded me of some pictures I had seen o elegant houses in England, Mrs. Jones greeted me and invited me inside. She left me in the living room and went back to the kitchen. I stood and looked around at what I thought to be the most beautiful room in the whole world. There was a rug or carpet covering the floor. Living room furniture (which most of us had never seen) and a big book shelf lined with beautifully bound books. I was enthralled with the books and stood looking at them until Mrs. Jones returned. She smiled and said “Do you like to read?” I said “Uh, Yess’m. I think so.” In all honesty, I had not read beyond the “Dick and Jane” readers in school for we had no books in our house, with the exception of the Bible. My parents had not been permitted to attend school beyond the seventh or eighth grade because they were needed to help sustain their families by working in the fields. I still feel a sadness when I recall how Daddy said “Kids now days cry because they don’t want to go to school. I cried when I couldn’t go.” Mrs. Jones took a copy of “The Swiss Family Robinson” from the shelf and handed it to me. She said “Try this and see if you like it. My children seemed to enjoy it very much.” I was to return it when I had completed the reading. I took that book and treated it as if it were worth a million dollars. I started reading as soon as I got home and I read every word or that little book. I lived, in my mind and at play, the adventures and I envisioned the beauties of the island and the sea. I saw the animals, the birds, the pirates and all things wonderful and exciting related in the readings. The experience opened a new world to me. I found that the world is much bigger than the one I had experienced within the parameters of my little world at that time. I returned the book in perfect condition and thanked her. Having been an educator, I believe that Mrs. Jones knew what had happened. She had helped me discover the most attainable source of recreation, adventure, knowledge and enjoyment in the world…good books. That classic reading made me hunger for more. I returned to school and surprised the teacher when I asked whether I could read some of the books on the shelves, in addition to our classroom readers. When I entered the eighth grade, the little four room school (of which we only needed two rooms now) was consolidated with a district seven miles away which had a high school. Our school numbers had dwindled with the war coming to an end and people moving to towns and cities for better jobs. The high school classes were too small, so they transferred for several years prior to our ultimate consolidation. Now we rode a big yellow school bus to and from school instead of walking the gravel and dirt roads to the nearest school. When I entered high school, another wonderful person rekindled my love for reading “good” books. My English teacher, all the way through high school was the same teacher, Mrs. Annie T. McGee. Mrs. McGee scared the pants off us before we got to her class by generating a reputation that she was just a wee bit kinder than Adolph Hitler. It was all hype. She was strict and quite formal, but she was the kindest, most wonderful lady I knew…unless one crossed the line she had drawn concerning behavior. Under her influence, I lived (in my mind) through the adventures of “Ivanhoe ,“ “Robin Hood” and other books of the sword fighting and fine maidens times. Then there was “Huckleberry Finn” Tom Sawyer, “The Yearling” “White Fang” and on and on. Several years ago I saw an old classmate and we were talking at a Gym while we worked out. He said “You know something, I have never told anybody this before but I truly learned to like literature when Mrs. McGee taught it.” I laughed and told him that he finally arrived. I had gone years without admitting that a country boy who played football in high school and chased girls actually enjoyed English and American Literature in high school…and I still do. We both had quite a laugh about it. Learning to love to read was not only a most enjoyable achievement, it was to become quite practical and necessary. I went to a large university and found that I had difficulty in most subjects…excepting in English grammar and literature. I excelled. When I decided to major in history, I found that history (which I did not like at all in high school) suddenly became my favorite subject now that reading and research opened doors to previously unknown adventures in history. I still have an old library card from Fort Knox military base in Kentucky, issued in 1958. I did not have much free time there, but I read and visited the library often, even while in the military. I did my share, or more, as a boy, reading “funny books,” ( or comics), but even they were good books compared to what I see today. They would be better today to read some of those old comics than to spend hours of their time watching a screen filled with violence, in most cases. As the years slithered by, I continued to enjoy reading, even in graduate and post graduate courses. I always felt comfortable in my room with books around me which I had accumulated over the years. I feel that the masters and the classics are old friends to whom I can “listen” at any time, by simply opening a book and reading what they thought concerning whatever interest enters my mind. I turn to Thoreau quite often. I also turn to John Locke, Thomas Paine, Marcus Aurelius and many others. There are numerous biographies from which I gain ideas, inspiration and, in some cases, better understanding of events and personalities. Now that I am retired, reading is one of my top three ways to relax and seek solitude. I also enjoy painting and drawing as well as writing. I first developed a love for drawing from my father who I recall when I was very young, drew with a pencil for recreation. Writing, I believe, is a natural spin off from loving to read and reading a lot. In our society today, reading has lost much of its impact to electronic and wireless communication. I use the internet and technology, but may greatest appreciation for technology lies with the vast improvements in word processing, printing, on-line publishing and e-mail. Solitude is good for the soul. Whether outside in nature or in my study/gallery/office/library, I find peace in solitude. In solitude I can, in peace and quite, observe the wonders of God’s creation, meditate, let my mind wander and just be. I also receive balm for my soul when alone reading a good book, mostly a classic. One friend, Henry David Thoreau, says of the classics “For what are the classics but the noblest recorded thoughts of man?” He also wrote: “Books must be read as deliberately and reservedly as they were written.” Emerson said “ ‘Tis the good reader that makes me the good book.” Recently, I read that more than 44 million Americans cannot read. I feel sadness and a small bit of responsibility for this atrocity. Many cannot read because of a language problem or a learning disability, but many cannot read because they never learned to love to read. Of those who are functionally illiterate, many can read, but only at a very low level. To sell newspapers and magazines, the reading level had to be set quite low. Many see no need to read. There is television and all sorts of communication with verbiage, including recorded books. Newspapers are said to be on the verge of being something of the past, which, to me would be a shame. I enjoy reading newspapers at coffee shops and selecting the parts that I like most and ignoring the others. I enjoy the opinion pages, news and the comic strips. I never got into the crossword puzzle bit, but many love them. Reading is losing its appeal and “good” reading as defined by Thoreau, for example, is quite rare. That is sad and it is not a favorable commentary on our society. I am so happy that Mrs. Jones generated a spark in my soul that flamed to a great desire to read and that Mrs. McGee guided me onto the path of reading “well” in the sense of reading good books. Books can, of course be used for evil, but in most cases, when freedom is lost to dictatorial governments, the good books (classics and the intellectually driven) are rounded up and burned while warnings are issued against having or reading one of the books. At that time, people will be told what to think, what to say, and what to do. They are not to read other ideas and philosophies. If they should, they would, as inevitably happens in such situations, begin to think for themselves and then they would be destroyed with those ideas before they spread. Reading is wonderful. It is also recommended for a people who choose to be free and informed. Sometimes the simplest act of kindness can leave a lasting impression and even redirect ones life. I recently recalled an incident which occurred when I was eight years of age in 1945 which helped to direct my interests to the wonderful world of reading. Until then, my interests were limited to those of most eight year old farm boys in 1945. We created our own recreation and we were quite inventive and ingenious in doing so. We wandered freely across the steep, wooded hills, the grassy plains and the Cow Bayou bottoms in search of adventures. We played inside the cotton gin that sat only a few yards from our residence (when it was not in use during ginning season) and we found many other activities when we were not working in the fields. Walking, with bare feet during warm weather, and riding bicycles were our means of transportation. On that day that opened a new world to me (reading), Momma sent me up the gravel road that climbed steeply about one hundred yards and across the “main” gravel road, to Mrs. Jones’ house to get a cup of sugar, I believe. Mrs. Jones was the epitome of a lady of class and distinction. She was very much respected and she was refined and well educated, very unusual for the times. She was a widow lady who managed the farm lands left by her husband at his death. When I got to the door of her beautiful house, which reminded me of some pictures I had seen o elegant houses in England, Mrs. Jones greeted me and invited me inside. She left me in the living room and went back to the kitchen. I stood and looked around at what I thought to be the most beautiful room in the whole world. There was a rug or carpet covering the floor. Living room furniture (which most of us had never seen) and a big book shelf lined with beautifully bound books. I was enthralled with the books and stood looking at them until Mrs. Jones returned. She smiled and said “Do you like to read?” I said “Uh, Yess’m. I think so.” In all honesty, I had not read beyond the “Dick and Jane” readers in school for we had no books in our house, with the exception of the Bible. My parents had not been permitted to attend school beyond the seventh or eighth grade because they were needed to help sustain their families by working in the fields. I still feel a sadness when I recall how Daddy said “Kids now days cry because they don’t want to go to school. I cried when I couldn’t go.” Mrs. Jones took a copy of “The Swiss Family Robinson” from the shelf and handed it to me. She said “Try this and see if you like it. My children seemed to enjoy it very much.” I was to return it when I had completed the reading. I took that book and treated it as if it were worth a million dollars. I started reading as soon as I got home and I read every word or that little book. I lived, in my mind and at play, the adventures and I envisioned the beauties of the island and the sea. I saw the animals, the birds, the pirates and all things wonderful and exciting related in the readings. The experience opened a new world to me. I found that the world is much bigger than the one I had experienced within the parameters of my little world at that time. I returned the book in perfect condition and thanked her. Having been an educator, I believe that Mrs. Jones knew what had happened. She had helped me discover the most attainable source of recreation, adventure, knowledge and enjoyment in the world…good books. That classic reading made me hunger for more. I returned to school and surprised the teacher when I asked whether I could read some of the books on the shelves, in addition to our classroom readers. When I entered the eighth grade, the little four room school (of which we only needed two rooms now) was consolidated with a district seven miles away which had a high school. Our school numbers had dwindled with the war coming to an end and people moving to towns and cities for better jobs. The high school classes were too small, so they transferred for several years prior to our ultimate consolidation. Now we rode a big yellow school bus to and from school instead of walking the gravel and dirt roads to the nearest school. When I entered high school, another wonderful person rekindled my love for reading “good” books. My English teacher, all the way through high school was the same teacher, Mrs. Annie T. McGee. Mrs. McGee scared the pants off us before we got to her class by generating a reputation that she was just a wee bit kinder than Adolph Hitler. It was all hype. She was strict and quite formal, but she was the kindest, most wonderful lady I knew…unless one crossed the line she had drawn concerning behavior. Under her influence, I lived (in my mind) through the adventures of “Ivanhoe ,“ “Robin Hood” and other books of the sword fighting and fine maidens times. Then there was “Huckleberry Finn” Tom Sawyer, “The Yearling” “White Fang” and on and on. Several years ago I saw an old classmate and we were talking at a Gym while we worked out. He said “You know something, I have never told anybody this before but I truly learned to like literature when Mrs. McGee taught it.” I laughed and told him that he finally arrived. I had gone years without admitting that a country boy who played football in high school and chased girls actually enjoyed English and American Literature in high school…and I still do. We both had quite a laugh about it. Learning to love to read was not only a most enjoyable achievement, it was to become quite practical and necessary. I went to a large university and found that I had difficulty in most subjects…excepting in English grammar and literature. I excelled. When I decided to major in history, I found that history (which I did not like at all in high school) suddenly became my favorite subject now that reading and research opened doors to previously unknown adventures in history. I still have an old library card from Fort Knox military base in Kentucky, issued in 1958. I did not have much free time there, but I read and visited the library often, even while in the military. I did my share, or more, as a boy, reading “funny books,” ( or comics), but even they were good books compared to what I see today. They would be better today to read some of those old comics than to spend hours of their time watching a screen filled with violence, in most cases. As the years slithered by, I continued to enjoy reading, even in graduate and post graduate courses. I always felt comfortable in my room with books around me which I had accumulated over the years. I feel that the masters and the classics are old friends to whom I can “listen” at any time, by simply opening a book and reading what they thought concerning whatever interest enters my mind. I turn to Thoreau quite often. I also turn to John Locke, Thomas Paine, Marcus Aurelius and many others. There are numerous biographies from which I gain ideas, inspiration and, in some cases, better understanding of events and personalities. Now that I am retired, reading is one of my top three ways to relax and seek solitude. I also enjoy painting and drawing as well as writing. I first developed a love for drawing from my father who I recall when I was very young, drew with a pencil for recreation. Writing, I believe, is a natural spin off from loving to read and reading a lot. In our society today, reading has lost much of its impact to electronic and wireless communication. I use the internet and technology, but may greatest appreciation for technology lies with the vast improvements in word processing, printing, on-line publishing and e-mail. Solitude is good for the soul. Whether outside in nature or in my study/gallery/office/library, I find peace in solitude. In solitude I can, in peace and quite, observe the wonders of God’s creation, meditate, let my mind wander and just be. I also receive balm for my soul when alone reading a good book, mostly a classic. One friend, Henry David Thoreau, says of the classics “For what are the classics but the noblest recorded thoughts of man?” He also wrote: “Books must be read as deliberately and reservedly as they were written.” Emerson said “ ‘Tis the good reader that makes me the good book.” Recently, I read that more than 44 million Americans cannot read. I feel sadness and a small bit of responsibility for this atrocity. Many cannot read because of a language problem or a learning disability, but many cannot read because they never learned to love to read. Of those who are functionally illiterate, many can read, but only at a very low level. To sell newspapers and magazines, the reading level had to be set quite low. Many see no need to read. There is television and all sorts of communication with verbiage, including recorded books. Newspapers are said to be on the verge of being something of the past, which, to me would be a shame. I enjoy reading newspapers at coffee shops and selecting the parts that I like most and ignoring the others. I enjoy the opinion pages, news and the comic strips. I never got into the crossword puzzle bit, but many love them. Reading is losing its appeal and “good” reading as defined by Thoreau, for example, is quite rare. That is sad and it is not a favorable commentary on our society. I am so happy that Mrs. Jones generated a spark in my soul that flamed to a great desire to read and that Mrs. McGee guided me onto the path of reading “well” in the sense of reading good books. Books can, of course be used for evil, but in most cases, when freedom is lost to dictatorial governments, the good books (classics and the intellectually driven) are rounded up and burned while warnings are issued against having or reading one of the books. At that time, people will be told what to think, what to say, and what to do. They are not to read other ideas and philosophies. If they should, they would, as inevitably happens in such situations, begin to think for themselves and then they would be destroyed with those ideas before they spread. Reading is wonderful. It is also recommended for a people who choose to be free and informed.

Fate 1, Free Will 0

Sat, 18 Oct 2008 09:41:47 PST

In “Oedipus Tyrannus” by Sophocles, Sophocles is trying to teach his audience that humans have no ability to control their fate. He teaches his audience this lesson by explaining the life of Oedipus, the future ruler of Thebes. As characters in the play try to change Oedipus's tragic prophecy, they end up fulfilling the prophecy, which means humans have no control of their fate. Because people knew of Oedipus's fate and accidentally helped it come to pass, Sophocles shows his audience that it is better for people not to know their fate.

Oedipus's prophecy began when Cadmus, the founder of Thebes, enraged the god Apollo by killing Apollo's favorite snake. Because of Cadmus's kill, his descendants are forced to live under a curse. Thus, a prophecy states that the son of Laius, the current king of Thebes, will kill his father and marry his mother.

Socrates proves to his audience that humans have no control over their fate by showing multiple failed attempts of people trying to prevent Oedipus's horrible prophecy from coming true. First, Laius simply tries to kill his son by asking one of his servants to leave the baby at Mt. Cithaeron to die. Unfortunately, his attempt at avoiding fate is useless when his servant pities the infant and takes him into a caring family elsewhere.

Once one discovers what his or her destiny will be, he or she will waste time, trying to avoid the impossible. When Oedipus himself finds out about his awful future, he flees Corinth, the city where his parents supposedly are staying. Without realizing his poor decision, he comes into a messy situation with his unfamiliar father. Long after this event, he speaks with Jocasta, his wife and mother about his realization: “I was in that place where three roads meet…the man in front, and the old one, ordered me out of the path. I refused…I killed him. I killed them all…I am the one for whom my curse was meant!” (19). By this time, Oedipus has already reached the point where his prophecy is complete. After declaring vengeance for his father, he finally realizes that he has cursed himself. Therefore, Oedipus's discovery of his fate turned against him.

Free will has no effect on fate, according to Sophocles's play. In fact, one's discovery of his or fate only does destruction. Because Oedipus tries to avoid his fate, he realizes that he helped “accomplish” it when it was too late.

Seven Fascinating Literary Works for Bookworms

Sun, 21 Sep 2008 02:49:37 PST

One Hundred Years of Solitude (by Gabriel Garcia Marquez)

Set in the tiny fictional village of Macondo, this novel portrays the rise and fall of the Buendia family. It takes the reader towards a journey of 100 years of rich family and cultural history. The author is a master of telling the story from different vantage points. Although the timeframe for the novel extends to well over a century, the events are not told chronologically but from different angles and time periods. The author is a Nobel Prize winner.

Midnight's Children (by Salman Rushdie)

This novel won both the Booker Prize and the James Tait Black Memorial Prize in 1981. It is the only novel written by an Indian author that got on Time magazine's list of top 100 best English language novels in a span of 50 years. The credentials of this book should speak for themselves.

Breathing Lessons (by Anne Tyler)

"Breathing Lessons" won the Pulitzer Prize for fiction in 1989. It is a story that tells the reality of married life and midlife crisis. One of the best modern literary artists, Anne Tyler also authored works such as Earthly Possessions and The Accidental Tourist. All those mentioned titles became smash hits.

Rabbit Is Rich (by John Updike)

This novel is the third part of Updike's "Rabbit series". Rabbit Is Rich was the lucky episode in the series that won the Pulitzer Prize for fiction in 1982. The story is about a former high school basketball star who now faces the challenges of modern society, ever struggling with various factors such as his wife's alcoholism, his uncontrolled libido, his son's misbehaviour, and dark memories from his past.

White Noise (by Don Delillo)

This novel is one of the best examples of postmodern literature. In fact, it is a standard "textbook" for college students taking up literature, primarily discussing postmodernism. Don Delillo's eighth novel, White Noise won the National Book Award in 1985. Film makers also attempted to release a film adaptation of the novel in 2006, but did not fully materialize.

Catch 22 (by Joseph Heller)

Considered as one of the greatest literary works in the post World War era, Catch 22 gained massive acclaim when it was first released in 1961. Today, it is a favorite among famous literary circles and subject of study for avid students of literature, sociology and politics. The story was set during the late stages of World War 2, focusing on a handful of U.S. air force soldiers. The novel is full of satire, political and social criticism, as well as many equally strong underlying themes. Disturbing, humorous, and witty to a full scale extent, this novel is definitely a must read!

Everything That Rises Must Converge (by Flannery O' Connor)

Unlike the other works mentioned here, this work is not a novel but a short story collection. It is, however, considered as an individual literary piece. "Everything That Rises Must Converge" is in fact the first short story in a collection of nine, thereby earning the title for the whole work. The author wrote these short stories during a long period of illness, and were published after her death. She writes with supreme taste, style, and technicality; the readers often find themselves grasping for and holding on to every word.

10 Books a Young Writer Should Read in High School

Fri, 12 Sep 2008 03:37:57 PST

Most teen writers don't have much they can write about besides pimples, unrequited "love," and the great evil of parents and other authority figures. Also, even if they have a good idea, they might not know how to make a great piece of writing.

To help young writers learn not only what makes good literature, but also how they can create it, here's a list of ten books a budding writer should read in high school. These are outstanding examples of certain writing principles that can shape young writers. (Whether or not they'll like these books, however, is another issue.)

For the purposes of this list, poetry and plays (sorry, Shakes) have been excluded. And watch out, a few minor spoilers ahead. If you need to know more about a work or its author, click on it for more info.

And now, in no particular order:

Great Expectations by Charles Dickens
Illustrated Principle: Plot is good. (So are characters with delightfully-odd names.)

One of the most important things in a thrilling, emotional, splendiferous piece of literature is how attractive the title font is. Another is plot. This and other Dickens novels are great examples. Sure, sometimes he goes on too much about facial features or eccentric office decor, but you have to admit, this guy's got pretty awesome storylines.

In huge, soap-operatic strokes of genius, Dickens throws twists in one right after another-"Pip is in love! Pip is unloved! Pip is rich! Pip is still unloved! Wait, what? That guy was Estella's dad! Holy General Hospital!" No one will tie things (characters, mostly) together more neatly than Dickens. Also, this book can help you decide how much detail you like writing-just enough? Or so much that people wonder if you were paid by the word?

The Good Earth by Pearl S. Buck
Illustrated Principle: Universal Values = Bestseller and lots of prizes!!1!

Obviously, this is not the only book that features universal values. It is, however, one of the few widely-studied books in America that help the non-Asian majority understand Asians by putting readers smack dab in the head of a Chinese farmer.

Keep in mind that this book was published in 1931 when Americans were not exactly the most China-savvy people on earth. This novel connected with Americans and many others, featuring relatable issues like survival, poverty (see: Great Depression), self-esteem, generational differences, etc. To top it all off, this book showed Chinese life without racism, mockery, or bias.

Any book can have topics all cultures can relate to, but few books can teach one culture to begin to understand another.

The Red Badge of Courage, by Stephen Crane
Illustrated Principle: You can't use metaphors as life preservers, even if you inflate ‘em.

For a good laugh, read some of Crane's metaphors and similes. Like "The regiment, involved like a cart involved in mud and muddle, started unevenly with many jolts and jerks." Or this one about a general in the middle of battle: "He looked to be much harassed. He had the appearance of a business man whose market is swinging up and down."

Okay, RBoC has its merits, and some of the metaphors are lovely ("The red sun was pasted in the sky like a wafer" is pretty charming). After reading this, however, young readers are bound to want to control their urge to compare everything to something as a way of adding description and "color."

(P.S.: Try some of Crane's other stuff; they're better. Like his poem "In The Desert.")

Nineteen Eighty-Four, by George Orwell
Illustrated Principle: The nitty-gritty of humanity is a doubleplusgood topic.

Well, that isn't a very good description of this book's greatest quality, but this book is just inconceivably awesome, and not just because it gave us Newspeak, 2+2 = 5, and "rebel from the waist down." Its message is enduring; its internal and external dialogue expose the inner workings of man's mind; and its characters are sympathetic, but real and flawed. 1984 gives young writers a level of meaning and influence to aspire to and encourages them to find a chord of humanity to strike.

Wuthering Heights, by Emily Bronte
Illustrated Principle: She told me that he told her that structure is important.

E. Bronte's only novel is a wonder of literary construction. Not only is it separated into two halves (Heathcliff's arrival - Cathy Linton's birth and from then - Heathcliff's death), but the narration itself is often likened to a Matryoshka doll (see: Russian nesting doll). At its most complex, it's a guy telling us what several characters said according to a letter from Isabella Linton that was sent to the woman who told him the story. If you haven't read it, don't worry, it makes sense when you read it, but you might need to pause and regroup every once in a while.

WH shows young writers how important planning and structure is and how they can add to a story's irony, meaning and poetic justice. It's also amazing in other aspects (use of doubles, emotion, etc.) and gave us an awesome declaration of love ("I am Heathcliff!")

One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest, by Ken Kesey
Illustrated Principle: Narration can make or break a story.

Not only is One Flew a crazy story about crazy people, it's also shown to us through the eyes of a crazy person, Chief Bromden. Since he is a paranoid schizophrenic, Bromden can be an unreliable narrator, feeding us his hallucinations and actual hospital events with the same spoon. This novel could have been a surreal disaster, but Kesey balances the storyline and Bromden's perception perfectly, showing that selecting a "different" narrator to be original or avant garde doesn't work unless you back it up.

Kesey was enabled by the depth of his characters. Almost each character's voice, motives, background, etc. are so strongly defined that they shine through any fog Bromden's mind creates.

The Great Gatsby, by F. Scott Fitzgerald
Illustrated Principle: Some green lights are more special than others.

Anyone who has studied this book for class will tell you, Gatsby's rich symbolism is mad important. Symbols are optional rungs that can make a story's ladder more complete and help it reach higher. They can add another level of meaning to a story.

Fitzgerald is particularly proficient at using symbolism. Other writers tend to use artificial, detached metaphors that seem contrived, but Fitzgerald's are natural to their setting and situation-two locations with different lifestyles; a light on the end of a dock; a billboard. Characters connect better with organic symbols, which makes stories flow nicely.

Black Boy, by Richard Wright
Illustrated Principle: Sometimes the best characters aren't from your imagination.

This is one of the best autobiographies found in high school curricula. Wright makes readers feel his pain and joy as he goes through hardships and occasional good fortune without being whiny, overdramatic, or unbelievable.

Any writers can use their own life story and emotions to make better stories. Even lives that are too "normal" or "boring" to be main plot material can be borrowed from to amplify certain emotions or add detail to stories. Look into your own life and actively find ways you can relate to your characters and their situations.

The Elements of Style, by William Strunk Jr. and E.B. White
Illustrated Principle: Omit needless words! (And others.)

Okay, so this isn't exactly a novel like the other books on this list, but it is a must-have for any writer-young, old, or uncomfortable-with-disclosing-their-age. Strunk and White encourage correct usage, consistent style, and strong sentences. This book helps writers become aware of their bad habits and fix them. It's a great reference to keep around the pen and pad, typewriter, or computadora. No writer should be without it!

If you haven't read all these books, now would be a great moment to update your "To Read" list. Of course, these are just some of the great curriculum books young writers can study. Pride and Prejudice, Candide, Fahrenheit 451, A Tale of Two Cities and others come to mind.

Just remember that reading all these books won't necessarily transform you magically into MegaWriter X or anything like that. After you finish a novel, there is still much work to do. If you read, find what you like about each book and figure out how to apply what you've learned to your writing, you just might come up with something great.

Good luck!

Amazing Novels and Series

Wed, 10 Sep 2008 02:48:24 PST

I am an avid reader and I have always loved books. My mother taught me how to read before I was 5 years old and I haven't stopped since. I am a college student so nowadays it is hard to find the time for extracurricular books, but I still try to squeeze one in here and there. Over the years I've read thousands of books, and no two are the same. Here are some of my favorites:

Angels and Demons by Dan Brown
Ender's Game Series by Orson Scott Card
Black, Red and White Series by Ted Dekker
Eye of the Storm by Jack Higgins
Anne of Green Gables by L. M. Montgomery
Journey to the Center of the Earth by Jules Verne
Dracula by Bram Stoker
Nancy Drew Series by Carolyn Keene
Great Expectations by Charles Dickens
Digital Fortress by Dan Brown
The Great Gatsby by Scott Fitzgerald
Call of the Wild by Jack London
The Sea-Wolf by Jack London
Catch-22 by Joseph Heller
Brave New World by Aldous Huxley
Mysterious Island by Jules Verne
Dark Justice by Jack Higgins
The Fifth Profession by David Morrell
Midnight Runner by Jack Higgins
Desperate Measures by David Morrell
Fahrenheit 451 by Ray Bradbury
The Hobbit by J. R. R. Tolkien
The Lord of the Rings by J. R. R. Tolkien
The Two Towers by J. R. R. Tolkien
Return of the King by J. R. R. Tolkien

Enjoy!

A Separate Peace

Sun, 07 Sep 2008 06:42:21 PST

One of the biggest underlying themes in A Separate Peace is that despite the seemingly playful attitude at Devon, and likewise apparent esprit de corps between Phineas and himself, Gene is a tortured individual at his core. At the beginning of the book he tries to be a good friend, and give the benefit of the doubt in most situations, while at the same time struggling to keep his own life in line and interests protected. This lifestyle eventually takes its toll on him, and he comes to resent Finny because Finny is better. Nothing more, nothing less needs to be said; he's just better. Because of this Gene begins to hate him for being better not only at sports, but he is more well liked, happier, but most of all, a better person - a better friend. Though he tolerates it at first, this knowledge is ultimately too much for Gene to bear; it frustrates him like nothing else, because he knows he couldn't possibly measure up to his best friend. This evokes a running conflict inside of him: a schism is struck between two sides of his personality - Gene, friend of Phineas Vs. the monstrous conspiratorial Beast of Jealousy.

By degrees the monster wins the war, and as a result drives Gene to trounce the branch and end Finny's athletic career permanently. He feels guilty but doesn't know what can be done, whether he is even responsible. It's debatable whether we can call it an accident, whether it was his fault- after all, we can't control (or suppress) our subconscious urges, but they are as much a part of us as our flesh and bones. For a long while he intends to hide the truth from everyone around him, but no one so much as suspects him at first. Since he has no accusations from which to defend himself, the guilt eats at him even more, because he has nobody to even profess his innocence to, he's just left to the silent mocking of his own mind.

Finally, when he goes to visit Phineas in the hospital, he resigns himself to telling his friend the truth, “that's what Finny would have done in my place,” he decides. This mollifies Gene's guilt somewhat, and consequently strengthens their friendship via his willingness to speak to Finny again. Coupled with the passage of time, which is this case heals wounds both physical and spiritual, the increased honesty between the two of them goads Gene to try to make it up to him, in a sense. For example, he tolerates and to a point believes Finny's drivel about the war being a hoax, if only as a show of goodwill. He begins to feel better about the whole situation, and life in general, and starts to believe that maybe things will turn around for him.

However, these hopes are crushed by the “trial” because Gene knows that under the combined duress of Brinker and all his minions, Phineas will eventually succumb to the allegations against his best friend. After he is forced to accept reality, he cannot cope with it. He was too much of an idealist for this world, and in the end it killed him. The world had beaten down upon him. The same is true of Gene, really. The very occurrence of the accident killed his optimism, so that he was rendered unsuitable to face reality, a fact that haunts him for fifteen years. It is not until he returns to Devon that he can shake off the fog of guilt that has so thoroughly consumed his mind.

When Gene does return to Devon, he is finally able to face his demons, and forgive himself for what he's done. He had made peace with Finny long ago, but still blamed himself for all that had happened. I think in this case it's true that we are our toughest critics, because we can regret the deeds we've committed. Therein lies the difference- we do not feel bad about being wronged, we don't regret it. The people we hurt may give us their blessing, and we accept it, but the fact remains that they feel no lament, as there was nothing they could have done differently. In this respect we are certainly harder on ourselves than we need to be, a lesson Gene learned the hard way. I think ultimately we sometimes need to just come to terms with our faults and move on. If he had, in the very beginning, he could have had a very different life- one of tranquility, and his own internal separate peace.

The Clueless Man's Role in Heroine Literature

Sat, 09 Aug 2008 12:21:39 PST

“And when ordinary fellows like you and me attempt to cope with their idiosyncrasies the result is bungling. Most women are moody and whimsical. This is some passing whim of your wife, due to some cause or causes which you and I needn't try to fathom."

- The Awakening by Kate Chopin

Throughout the ages, across the nations, spanning languages and customs there is one commonality all man/womankind can agree on, men do things sometimes that do not make much sense. Authors love to tap into this shared experience, portraying the sillier side of masculinity. Let us discuss a certain type of male character used in fiction, the clueless man. What purpose does he serve? Why is he often tied to the empowerment of women? We will look at three pieces of literature in the twentieth century, defined (among other categorizations) as uneasy heroine pieces. These are The Awakening by Kate Chopin, Tender is the Night by F. Scott Fitzgerald and Lolita by Vladimir Nabokov. In each of these pieces there are uneasy heroines that are berated by “clueless men”. In examining these men and their role as catalyst for happiness within the heroine we will better understand the fictional device of the clueless man employed in each of these novels. We will observe each novel to define the clueless man inside and look at the similarities that span the three, catching any mode that might enlighten us to the clueless man as fictional device.

Looking at The Awakening we will examine Leonce Pontellier and his effect on Edna Pontellier as the clueless man. The quote that opened this paper resembles the attitude taken by the husband of our heroine. His approach in his dealings with Edna comes not from a husband, in the romantic sense of the word, but the point of view of one who is “...looking at his wife as one looks at a valuable piece of personal property which has suffered some damage." (Chopin, 3) Leonce Pontellier objectifies his wife and places her in a definition of his own which is like a mother-woman. This is the role in which Edna caters to in the beginning of the novel. Her idealization of Madam Ratignole the true “mother-woman” shows her tendencies to conform to the social norm of a woman in her position. "He reproached his wife with her inattention, her habitual neglect of the children. If it was not a mother's place to look after children, whose on earth was it?" (7) Leonce has defined in his mind an ideal woman of Edna's status the “Mother Woman”, as defined perfectly in this next passage.

"The mother-women seemed to prevail that summer at Grand Isle. It was easy to know them, fluttering about with extended, protecting wings when any harm, real or imaginary, threatened their precious brood. They were women who idolized their children, worshipped their husbands, and esteemed it a holy privilege to efface themselves as individuals and grow wings as ministering angels." (10)

This is Leonce's ideal woman. He has had this in his mind since a man of his status began looking for a wife. The mother woman is what the society pressures young women to be. Partly because there is this ideal that the men of the time had, and the threat of the old maid forced them into this role. The Awakening is at its core about a woman moving past the role and into individuality. It is about leaving Mrs. Ratignole and moving toward Madam Rieze. The shift in this case was directed by her husband. If she is indeed awakened it is Leonce's fault that she was asleep. His ideal mother-woman personae that Edna has accepted into her psyche has kept her “asleep”. When she does begin to change Leonce is confused, clueless.

"It sometimes entered Mr. Pontellier's mind to wonder if his wife were not growing a little unbalanced mentally. He could see plainly that she was not herself. That is, he could not see that she was becoming herself and daily casting aside that fictitious self which we would assume like a garment with which to appear before the world." ( 77)

Her change, her awakening, was as a mental imbalance to Leonce that is how foreign this idea of Edna leaving the bounds of his ideal is to him.

The unsupportive man and the neglectful man are also parts that Leonce plays. Steven T. Ryan, in his article “Depression and Chopin's The Awakening”, actually equates her previous life trying to play the Mother Woman as a “Hypomanic depressive” (254-255). I do not believe he is saying she actually was this, but her actions of an imprisoned woman resemble the same as a “bipolar II” disordered person. He goes on to comment about her actual “Awakening” referring again to the neglectful role Leonce has played in her life. “Edna is not destroyed because her sensuality is awakened but rather because the awareness of her sensuality emotionally resurrects her frustrated need for intimacy.” (259) Leonce does not create a marriage which acts as a venue for support, with intimacy or even artistic expression. He is ignorant to the creative passions that Edna is being awakened to. He is unaware and thus unsupportive of a change in his ideal woman. She is becoming the passionate artist that her personality caters to. These opinions are also not to say that Leonce did not love Edna, I feel he did, but that he was simply not the husband that she needed. The clueless man in this case is unsupportive, and unrecognizing of what his woman truly is outside of the ideal box he has placed her in. Because of this our Heroine is thrust, rather violently, toward happiness that has been denied her. She finally takes a figurative leap into the unknown taken the chances that this will be better than her current situation.

"The water of the Gulf stretched out before her, gleaming with the million lights of the sun. The voice of the sea is seductive, never ceasing, whispering, clamoring, murmuring, inviting the soul to wander n abysses of solitude. All along the white beach, up and down, there was no living thing in sight. A bird with a broken wing was beating the air above, reeling, fluttering, circling disabled down, down to the water." (154)

The author does not give us the proof of her death at the end of the novel, but the fact that she took a swim, into a dangerous area, far from land, shows the heroine taking her identity out of her husband's hands and into her own. The fact that it had to be done in an unfortunate way is the tragedy of the novel. The clueless man not only pushed the heroine toward happiness but also away from himself, first into the arms of another and then into the sea.

Within the novel Tender is the Night, by F. Scott Fitzgerald, our main character, Dick Diver, plays husband to our heroine Nicole diver. He had first met Nicole as a patient while he was a young practicing psychiatrist. Against advice from colleagues and social morays, the two blossomed into a relationship that ended in marriage. I use the term “ended” purposefully. While reading the early days of the relationship, the earliest moments, chronologically in the novel, we get a sense of true happiness, where Dick Diver is a decent person, even likeable. By the end of the novel the places of these two characters have switched; Dick has fallen and is now a shadow of the man he used to be. Conversely, Nicole has freed herself from the feelings of unhappiness and progressed, though tentatively, toward joy. She is uplifted at the same time Dick has fallen. Let us look at what part this clueless man has in his own downfall and the rise of our heroine.

Through Dick's false ideals of what a woman is to him, he has created, much like Leonce had, a box in which to place the definition of Nicole Diver into. Once in the box he knows how to react to her, he is able to care for her. But in making a box and opposing his will on the real Nicole to be like his ideal, he has made a fragile life. “"Nicole's world had fallen to pieces, but it was only a flimsy and scarcely created world." (143) When she begins to actually realize happiness may not be what she thought it was, her fragile world comes crashing down.

So what exactly is the ideal which Dick has tried to conform Nicole to? "You don't understand Nicole. You treat her always as a patient because she was once sick." (308) There is a doctor/patient model at work here, but this does not seem to encompass everything. The relapse Nicole had in the bathroom (112) expressed more than a hostility to her husband, there were ugly similarities between this scene and those that had caused her fragile state. She was yelling at her father as much as she was yelling at Dick Diver. The horrible past, which had included the molestation by a father, crept back into her psyche. She was yelling at Dick as if he were her father. This triggers in the audience a realization of the father figure that Dick truly is. Dick's idealized woman then is a daughter figure; one who acts like a patient, needing to be rescued and taken care of. In his article entitled, “Dick Diver and the Priest of Nemi” Erwin R. Steinberg, emphasizes this need to protect and heal, “Fitzgerald Recorded, as part of the summary of the plot, that the hero "marries her (the heroine) and is madly in love with her and entirely consecrated to completing her cure” (70). He rarely tires of playing the father figure because this is an ongoing process, she is never cured of any disease physically or mentally in the novel. This fatherly attraction completely explains the attraction he has with Rosemary, the young actress, in need of guidance, on the brink of adulthood. Dick"s self worth is tied up in what he does. "God, am I like the rest after all?" (Fitzgerald, 133) He understands his place in society and in a way looks down on his equals. His self worth is related to being a father to Nicole. His downfall begins when he believes he can be a father figure/lover to Rosemary as well. This clueless man has placed the women he adores in these closely defined boxes where he keeps them and depends upon them for self affirmation. When they move on, when they are unhappy as heroines get being placed in a box, they take with them the structures holding up Dick's self. He then begins to descend as Nicole rises.

Like The Awakening our heroine makes a conscious choice to not stay with the status quo and live in unhappiness but to brave the unknown in search for the things denied her by the idealization of a man pretending his wife is something she is not, a daughter figure. The flight, in this case happened not as dramatically as running into the see but was never-the-less the biggest step of Nicole's life.

"So delicately balanced was she between an old foothold that had always guaranteed her security, and the imminence of a leap from which she might alight changed in the very chemistry of blood and muscle, that she did not dare bring the matter into the true forefront of consciousness." (279)

It takes Nicole the entire rest of the novel to break free of the lifestyle she had known. She was not ruined, but free. This in fact would be the cause of Dick's fall, but she can hardly be blamed for him placing so much of his manhood on being a pseudo husband, one whom needs to be as a father. "There was some element of loneliness involved--so easy to be loved - so hard to love." (245) This quote elucidates us to this fact that this is where Dick gathers his defense of his actions from. It is easy to be loved as a father figure without the necessity of loving another. A father's main office is to supply, provide, protect, and be loved. The role of this clueless man is a father figure. He spurned on his wife toward happiness and again away from himself. His acting more as a father and less like a husband drove a delicate and fragile Nicole to the arms of another man, and when Dick's self worth is wrapped up in his ability to keep Nicole as a daughter who loves him, he descends and withers as a man. The clueless man pushes, by action or inaction, by force or neglect, the woman in his life to break free of the ideal he has forced her into and toward joy.

Lolita by Vladimir Nobokov is obviously a very difficult text to analyze. This is how I will approach the text. I feel, given the utter unreliability of the narrator that lines and direct quotes do little good. I am taking this cue from an article entitled, “Humbert Humbert's Use of Catullus 58 in Lolita” by Gary R. Dyer. In it he examines how the “novel insists on making the reader suspend disbelief”, and “by putting aside the matter of the book's self-conscious artifice and taking Humbert's account at face value, we can by illuminating the narrative, illuminate the novel.” (2) We shall illuminate the narrative and stay away from direct quotes that may cause one to get off track in a number of ways. We may be able to form a clearer image of the characters if we focus on terminology and the periphery of the text. This is why you the reader will not see as many quotes as you have previously; I find it more helpful to discuss the key nouns and general happenings of the story as a whole.

Our main character, Humbert Humbert, is in “love” with a twelve year old girl named Delores, whom he refers to as Lolita. When speaking of Humbert Humbert as the clueless man in question, we need to understand the outcome of his actions. His Lolita feels, as all previous heroines in this paper, that the ideal woman Humbert Humbert has coined her as is not what she is. She rebels, like previous women, and flees the confines of his company. She disappears and eventually turns up again asking for money from him, she is pregnant and with another man. Humbert Humbert takes his aggression out on a man named Quilty, he murders him for stealing Lolita from him some time ago. Humbert Humbert writes his memoirs in a jail cell in which he soon dies. These are the stakes of being clueless in this novel.

What makes Humbert Humbert clueless? If we are indeed to take our lead from the previous novels we have studied it might be safe to assume it is his ideal of the perfect woman that commences his downfall. According to the memoirs, early in his life he had a crush on a beautiful young girl his age. But be fore they could consummate their relationship she was snatched away from him later to have died. This left a whole in Humbert Humbert one he has been trying to replace ever since. This is where the term, “nymphet” comes from. Humbert Humbert see sin young beautiful girls the one he was never able to have. He is “incarnating her in another”. These young nymphets spur on his obsessive tendencies, making him a pedophile. He idealizes the nymphet as the one thing missing, the one thing that will make him whole. He is dependent upon this obsession. There is no simple physiological explanation for his actions. This is not a lust, this is a mental obsession. It is a barrier in his psyche that prevents him from moving on. He “must have her”. “Lolita, light of my life, fire of my loins. My sin, my soul. Lo-lee-ta: the tip of the tongue taking a trip of three steps down the palate to tap, at three, on the teeth. Lo. Lee. Ta.” (Nobokov, 1) The opening lines of the novel place us in the obsessed and beautiful mind of Humbert Humbert. We get a sense of how the world is nothing without her; without his nymphet. Humbert Humbert cannot simply move on to another young girl. He sees his lost love in her and must be with her only. He goes so far as to marry Lolita's mother so that he may stay in her life.

The meat of the novel focuses on the relationship of man and woman. Though there is an age difference, it is not the father figure relationship demonstrated in the Divers. There is a captor and captive feel to them. Though Humbert Humbert feels, and writes, that she is madly in love with him, we get the sense that she is looking elsewhere, or at least has other opportunities that H.H. realizes as well.

“Oh, I had to keep a very sharp eye on Lo, little limp Lo! Owing perhaps to constant amorous exercise, she radiated, despite her childish appearance, some special languorous glow which threw garage fellows, hotel pages, vacationists … into fits of concupiscence which might have tickled my pride, had it not incensed my jealousy.” (159).

The appearance of Quilty following them is the first sense we get that H.H. is losing his grip on Lolita. There is another presence that threatens the relationship. H.H. would not have been threatened had he believed, without a doubt, in the strength of the relationship. One could argue Quilty is a manifestation of his imagination here to exemplify the loosening grasp on Lolita.

Like the heroines of The Awakening and Tender is the Night, Lolita, we can assume, begins to resent her cage of ideals that H.H. has placed her in. He is making Lolita into the young girl he never had. This will push her toward something better, something where she can be free to be Lolita, and not the shadow of some former love. Lolita takes flight and turns up missing. H.H. is sure she has left with Quilty.

The domineering spirit H.H. possesses inhibits the true identity of Lolita. We purposefully are kept at a distance from Lolita in the novel. We only know of her through the eyes of the narrator, H.H. As with the other novels discussed here, the true identity of the woman is suppressed to fill the identity of the ideal the man has. This causes the heroine to rebel against her rules and find a place where she can be free, be this, another man, the sea, divorced, or just away from her clueless man. H. H., even at the end of his life, places Lolita in the nymphet role, for he writes his memoirs regarding her as if it were still going on. “By telling his story Humbert TRIES to transcend not only the loss of the nymphet to maturity and marriage, but her death and his own death. He writes that his memoir may be published only after Lolita has died.” (Dyer, 12)

From these texts we are able to better define the clueless man device used in these cases of fiction. From The Awakening we learn that the clueless man is able to passively neglect his wife. His actions do not have to be tangible. The clueless man, in this case, imprisoned the heroine in a figurative construct of ideals. His “perfect” woman (in quotes because they may not be perfect to universal standards) does not want to be the woman he has pressed upon her. She rebels. In Tender is the Night we also see a rebellion, though much slower than and not as dramatic as throwing oneself into a sea. The revolt is simple, a run for happiness and joy. Nicole sees a chance in a new man though it means leaving the security of what she has known. This clueless man also struggles with an ideal. In this case, Dick Diver invests more of himself into the ideal of this daughter like figure that he can protect. He would always have played the doctor and father to her if she would have let him.

Lolita acts as an experiment to that which occurs when the ideal and the stakes become dangerous. Humbert Humbert idealizes a lost love, “incarnating her in another”. This other is Lolita a young girl who is the victim of obsession. This situation acts a little more like a prison, here; the victim has little power physically in this relationship. Lolita acts as a more concrete version of what the other Heroines progress through. She too rebels and runs away. The interesting thing about it is we get a glimpse of life after she made the choice to move on. She is not nearly as happy as she could be. This is a jolt for those who love the romantic questions that follow the reading of novels such as The Awakening and Tender is the Night. Lolita does not allow for guess work. Nobokov hits us twice with Lolita's decision to stay away from the man whose false ideals had imprisoned her. We see that life was not glamorous, star studded, or falsely optimistic in anyway, however, she makes the choice to live free as an individual and accepted for the woman she is, not the nymphet Humbert Humbert wanted her to be. This is what truly makes the uneasy heroine heroic.

The clueless man is used as a way to trap the protagonist. His idealization of what a woman should be causes them to rebel and become who they truly are, this doesn't always mean an easy life, but it is a free one. The clueless man does not have one idea about a woman, or even a bad idea in some cases, Mrs. Ratignole was very content with playing the “Mother Woman” part, but it is when men try to place a woman in a box that creates the conflict. Placing any man's idea of a woman on a woman will be inaccurate. Women are as different from other women as they are from men.

When fiction uses the clueless man device to make a point, it brings with it many notions of gender, masculinity and ties in a universal element everyone can relate to. Real life men may be able to take away lessons from these novels. Do not place women in a box, they will rebel, maybe not with suicide or affairs, it may be as subtle as unhappiness. Understanding how these fictional devices work exactly and what makes them so popular taps into what we bring to the table as a reader. It taps in to the outside “texts” that we hold in the back of our minds when understanding literature. It may even help to change some of those “texts”.

Sense and Sensibility: A Review of Jane Austen's Work

Wed, 06 Aug 2008 06:38:54 PST

The work Sense and Sensibility by Jane Austen still remains as one of the most powerful literary classics of all time. The novel (which later became a film) focuses on the class struggle and many other social issues of eighteenth century England. This class distinction was between people from the middle class and those who are on elite capitalist positions of society.

The classic work seems to imply that the role of women during those times is to become active yet servile individuals in society, and by establishing connections, they put themselves in a position where they can be noticed by people from the higher class and eventually become married to one of them. Jane Austen places importance on love, but it is not the single element that will create a perfect marriage and happiness in settlement. Money and social position are also two important characteristics that should be found in a gentleman, thus by having those two traits, a lady can be sure that he can give her a secure lifestyle and a considerable place in the world.

The distribution of wealth in those days is interesting. A normal family will engage in trade for an entire lifetime and build a long lasting income. If fortune smiles upon the father, he will be able to lay up some wealth for the next generation. Upon death, the firstborn male child will receive a monetary inheritance from his father, and he will take charge of all the family property as well practically becoming the new father. This type of scenario is very unfortunate for families with only female children exclusively. When there is no male heir present, the female siblings are then forced to try their luck; in the outside world, hoping to find an eligible bachelor with considerable wealth and social position so that they can live a secure life in the future.

Annabel Lee: Symbols of Love and Death in the Poem

Tue, 22 Jul 2008 05:31:43 PST

Edgar Allan Poe was known for writing poems and stories with a dominant central theme of death, and "Annabel Lee" is no exception. Scholars, critics, and people who love his work generally believe that the poem was written in reference to Poe's deceased wife, Virginia Clemm, who died of tuberculosis before even reaching full womanhood. This morbid poem is full of symbols about love and death - two themes with equal importance and magnitude (even the Bible itself states that “love is as strong as death”). The poem Annabel Lee presents these two equally strong themes, beautifully interwoven in symbolism.

While many biographers conclude that Poe's wife was the real Annabel Lee, it is also possible that she was a fictional character. Annabel Lee was the main figure being spoken of in the poem, but she could also be considered as a symbol of a rare, pure and tender love. There was something about her description that evokes innocence, purity and childlikeness (characteristics that Virginia Clemm possibly had). It is indeed strange that Poe, an orphan and drunkard who had experienced so much cruelty from life, should marry a thirteen year old sickly girl. Perhaps, in his mind, there was an undying ideal, a longing to find tenderness and innocence in a woman and become united with her. This ideal notion was symbolized by Annabel Lee, and if she was indeed Virginia Clemm, we can say that Clemm was the only true love that Poe ever had.

In the first line of the poem, we can read, “it was many and many a year ago, in a kingdom by the sea”. The sea here was used to represent the speaker's memory. The entire phrase suggests that Annabel Lee's death occurred a very long time ago, but the sea speaks of reminiscence and an undying memory of love. This particular pattern was repeated in the succeeding stanzas, where each time the “kingdom by the sea” was mentioned, there was also a mention of things which belonged to a distant past. Poe wrote in the second stanza, “I was a child and she was a child, in this kingdom by the sea”. At the time this poem was written, Poe cannot be considered a child, as he was way past his early twenties. Clearly, he was simply using the word "sea" as a vehicle to illustrate unfading memory of a loved one which cannot be erased by time. He seems to be implying that the memory of love he had for his woman cannot be erased even after the pain of loss and death. Thus at the end of the poem, we can find him staying beside the dead girl's sepulchre by the sea.

The poem suggests that the speaker's love for Annabel Lee was of such divine and everlasting nature that it disturbed divine creatures themselves. The jealousy of the “winged seraphs of heaven” speaks strongly about the magnitude of the couple's love for each other. Obviously, the love was too much (it was a love that was more than love) that the heavenly beings chose to inflict death on poor Annabel. It is possible that the “winged seraphs” personify ill fate, and the “highborn kinsman” represents God Himself. The reason for the jealousy was not explained in the poem. Either Poe merely used it as a plausible excuse to justify an untimely death, or he simply wanted to blame ill fate, or possibly God, for the loss of his love. Or perhaps, poet as he was, he was just trying to sound a little bit more poetic. We can only surmise, because only Poe, dead in his grave and his love long been buried, has all the answers to the questions that belie "Annabel Lee".