How does the poem opening the work affect how you read the main body of the text?
For my personal reading experience, the most effective result of the poem opening the story was that it gets you thinking about all those little things that we so often taken for granted.
Sum up what the poem is saying in one sentence.
Appreciate the things of life that we normally take for granted, and if you do not you should be cursed.
What are the key characteristics of the narrator which Levi chooses to present in this work; how would you describe the narrator?
Key characteristics-cynical, not foolishly hopeful, very matter of fact
Cynical (“Only a minority of ingenuous and deluded souls continued to hope…” p. 20)
I would say that the narrator is a great observer of things as they actually happen. I feel like I get all the minute details, as well as the overarching issues, relayed to me in such a way that I have a really clear vision of what is taking place in the text.
Does this add to or take away from your ability to sympathize with the narrator?
I still sympathize with the reader even though he’s not this innocent, naïve, hopeful figure. He is explaining the type of torture and mistreatment that he had to endure and I feel like there’s no way that I wouldn’t be able to sympathize with him. He seems very real to me and I understand the mentality that he’s adopted in order to survive.
Which moment(s) in the text stand out or make the strongest impact on you? Why?
p. 21 “…neither Italian nor German, had the courage to come and see what men do when they know they have to die…But the mothers stayed up to prepare the food for the journey with tender care…Nor did they forget the diapers, the toys, the cushions and the hundred other small things which mothers remember and which children always need. Would you not do the same? If you and your child were going to be killed tomorrow, would you not give him to eat today?”
--This part of the story really impacted me because for one, it shows that it is a disturbing display to watch someone prepare to die, and second, because Levi touches on a really interesting concept; the concept that mothers, good mothers, are still going to provide their children with the things they need even if it’s a “waste” in a sense because next they will be dead.
p. 22 “Dawn came on us like a betrayer; it seemed as though the new sun rose as an ally of our enemies to assist in our destruction. The different emotions that overcame us, or resignation, of futile rebellion, of religious abandon, of fear, of despair, now joined together after a sleepless night in a collective, uncontrolled panic.”
--This moment gives the idea that time is not your friend a whole new meaning. The idea that the “dawn” is the betrayer, bringing with it inevitable death seemed very profound to me. And that this inevitability of destruction instills a panic was very haunting for me when I was reading this.
p. 28 “But there is also a tap – and above it a card which says that it is forbidden to drink as the water is dirty. Nonsense. It seems obvious that the card is a joke, ‘they’ know that we are dying of thirst and they put us in a room, and there is a tap, and Wassertrinken Verboten. I drink and I incite my companions to do likewise, but I have to spit it out, the water is tepid and sweetish, with the smell of a swamp.”
--I love to drink a lot of water all throughout the day. I had a full bottle of water with me when I was reading this. So when I read of these people’s undying thirst my heart truly went out to them. I felt so much physical anxiety and pain for these people at the thought of being taunted with a source of water they could not utilize. I thought the portrayal of their continuous thirst was actually one of the most horrible things to read about (considering how tragic that would be for me if I were in their position).
p. 30 “But by now my belief is that all this is a game to mock and sneer at us. Clearly they will kill us, whoever thinks he is going to live is mad, it means that he has swallowed the bait, but I have not.”
--This moment is so powerful, yet so sad when he realizes that he must accept death and reject all hope of living because that would inevitably lead to his death (the death of his mental sanity, which is death according Levi’s ideas of survival).
p. 43 “We Italians had decided to meet every Sunday evening in a corner of the Lager, but we stopped it at once, because it was too sad to count our numbers and find fewer each time, and to see each other even more deformed and more squalid.”
--I thought this moment that we see that their sense of community and fellowship end, due to the disheartening effect their meetings had on their morale, was so sad. I felt very impacted at this moment reading how they had to stop coming together as a people because they could physically see their own demise.
Monday, February 26, 2007
Thursday, February 22, 2007
Writing Journal-Assignment 7
What is the reason you chose the option (a, b, or c) you did?
I chose to write my dialogue between the three characters in the painting because I didn’t feel knowledgeable enough to compose a believable conversation between the artist and someone else. I would have wanted to know Artemisia even better before I tried to emulate her, mostly because I have so much respect for her and wouldn’t want to portray her in an inaccurate light.
What is challenging about writing dialogue, especially when you are reliant on it for character development?
The trouble with being reliant on dialogue for character developing is that it makes the “showing, not telling” process even more challenging and time-consuming. For me, I’m the kind of person who gets restless pretty easily when writing and if the process is taking too long, it makes me not want to follow through with the story.
Do visual works add to or detract from your ability to be imaginative in your writing and why?
The visual element of this project actually really inspired me to be more creative. Considering the assignment, I didn’t feel the need to closely adhere to the actual story that is depicted in the painting. I had a lot of fun coming up with an entirely different interpretation of what was going on between the characters.
What are some of the most notable differences between the cities of Rome and Naples; do you think place has an effect on how you write? If yes, how so, and if not, why do you think it is irrelevant?
Naples is most definitely different than Rome. I could sense their character differences immediately. Naples had its own unique qualities and identity apart from Rome. However, I wouldn’t say that this necessarily affected my writing. Although, this was the most violent piece I’ve ever written, and Naples, to me, will always be the city that “violently mugs.”
I chose to write my dialogue between the three characters in the painting because I didn’t feel knowledgeable enough to compose a believable conversation between the artist and someone else. I would have wanted to know Artemisia even better before I tried to emulate her, mostly because I have so much respect for her and wouldn’t want to portray her in an inaccurate light.
What is challenging about writing dialogue, especially when you are reliant on it for character development?
The trouble with being reliant on dialogue for character developing is that it makes the “showing, not telling” process even more challenging and time-consuming. For me, I’m the kind of person who gets restless pretty easily when writing and if the process is taking too long, it makes me not want to follow through with the story.
Do visual works add to or detract from your ability to be imaginative in your writing and why?
The visual element of this project actually really inspired me to be more creative. Considering the assignment, I didn’t feel the need to closely adhere to the actual story that is depicted in the painting. I had a lot of fun coming up with an entirely different interpretation of what was going on between the characters.
What are some of the most notable differences between the cities of Rome and Naples; do you think place has an effect on how you write? If yes, how so, and if not, why do you think it is irrelevant?
Naples is most definitely different than Rome. I could sense their character differences immediately. Naples had its own unique qualities and identity apart from Rome. However, I wouldn’t say that this necessarily affected my writing. Although, this was the most violent piece I’ve ever written, and Naples, to me, will always be the city that “violently mugs.”
Writing Assignment #7
Dialogue within Judith and Holofernes
On this particularly chilling winter evening, the moon glowed, full of mischievous intent. The wind whipped violently through trees and against the nearby tents, jostling emotions and stirring up trouble. Holofernes, Judith, and Abra were having a casual evening hanging out in Holofernes’ tent; playing cards, drinking, joking with one another, just like they did any other night. But something was different this time, maybe it was the wind, maybe it was the devilish, instigator ways of Abra that led things to go gone too far.
“You cheater, I slapped the deck first, those cards were mine,” shouted the defiant Abra at the cheating Holofernes.
“Whatever woman, those cards belong to me, I am the doubles-slapping master,” declared Holofernes. Taunting the women of the card game, he held his arms in the air as if cheering for his own victories falsely won.
“Why must we always have these feuds when playing Neapolitan Mouse Snatch,” whimpered Judith with her concerned brow.
“Just relax, Judith we’re just having some fun, as usual. I thought you liked this game,” replied Abra.
“I…I do…it’s just I hate when you and Holofernes are so competitive,” Judith sheepishly answered.
“Stop your ridiculousness, Judith. There always seems to be something plaguing you,” exclaimed Holofernes. “Try to have a bite more fun. Now pass me the wine and lets keep enjoying ourselves shall we.”
Judith reluctantly took a deep breath to perk herself up for the rest of the evening she would be spending with an intoxicated Holofernes and the always boisterous Abra. She could feel the anxiety looming over her, the way it always did when she would hang out with the two of them. Judith suffered greatly from a lack of self-confidence and tended to get pushed around by her bold friends. Nevertheless, these were two of her best friends and she tolerated their negative qualities in the hopes that the good would make an appearance every so often.
“Some day I am going to be the…ahhh…bestest…ahhh…greatest general ever, juuussst you girls wait and see,” stammered the progressively more inebriated Holofernes. “You see that sword, I am the best swordsmen you two would ever be lucky enough to see.”
Holofernes stumbled from out of his seat, weaving to the left and to the right as he walked over to get his sword.
“See look at how good I am with my sword.” Holofernes swung his sword around as he paced about the tent, almost losing his balance as well as the grip on his weapon several times.
“Sit down you big shot before you hurt someone,” scolded Abra. “Let’s finish this card game already. I am totally going to beat you,” she said with a cocky smile on her face.
Abra and Holofernes were different from Judith in a sense. The three of them had been friends for so long and were similar in many ways. However, Judith lacked the same boldness that Abra and Holofernes seemed to completely possess. Judith was the meekest of the three and was always easily coxed into doing things that were not of her own design.
Judith quietly started to chime into this discussion of future careers. “I want to be a model for a great painter some day. Maybe a painter like Caravaggio or Artemisia.”
“What,” Holofernes scoffed.
“Well…I think that’s what I would like to do. Dress up, be portrayed as someone completely different…than myself,” Judith replied.
“You could never be a model,” stated Holofernes.
“Why…why not?” she asked.
“Please, Judith, you don’t have the faintest clue what a model really does.”
“I…I don’t?”
“And…seriously…you might want to rethink your diet if you’re actually going to pursue being a model. You’re looking a little on the softer side.”
Then Abra finally decided to chime in. “Why the hell are you being so rude, Holofernes, you jackass?”
“Abra, I’m just telling her the truth, unlike you, who would sugar coat every thing for your poor, innocent friend, Judith.”
Abra turned to Judith and said to her under her breath, “Are you going to let him speak to you that way?”
“What?” responded Judith, with tears welling in her eyes and shame smeared all across her face.”
“I asked you if you are going to let him speak to you that way. You should stand up for yourself.”
“I…I should?” replied Judith.
“Yes goddamn it!” Abra said with her teeth grinding and her face completely tensed with furious passion. “You should make him sorry for what he said.”
Judith asked as she sniffled, “But how?”
“If I were you I would make him feel my pain, feel the pain physically. He says mean things to you all the time. Now it’s your turn. Slap him or something. Do it, just do something,” Abra insisted.
“I…I…” Judith stuttered quietly to her scheming friend. And then she started to look around the room for ideas of pay-back. Judith thought to herself about how mad and hurt Holofernes always made her feel. She glanced at him as he was now lounging on his bed chuckling to his-drunken-self; he was thinking he was so cleaver and had got her down for good. “Not any more,” Judith thought to herself.
She had become uncontrollably enraged. She swiftly grabbed Holofernes sword with a look of determination and rage in her eyes. She whipped around with the sword in her right hand and proceeded to attack Holofernes while he was lying helplessly on his bed.
“What are you doing?” screamed Abra.
“Getting my revenge! Help me!” cried Judith.
“Oh God,” gasped Abra.
“If you’re truly my friend, then help me.”
Knowing it was too late for Judith to turn back, as she had already started to strike Holofernes with his own sword, Abra rushed to restrain him. She couldn’t very well have both of her friends die from this situation (wasn’t she the one who suggested the revenge in the first place?).
“Hold his arms down,” Judith demanded. Suddenly the meekest one of their group was now the most aggressively demanding. Maybe there was something in the air of the night.
On this particularly chilling winter evening, the moon glowed, full of mischievous intent. The wind whipped violently through trees and against the nearby tents, jostling emotions and stirring up trouble. Holofernes, Judith, and Abra were having a casual evening hanging out in Holofernes’ tent; playing cards, drinking, joking with one another, just like they did any other night. But something was different this time, maybe it was the wind, maybe it was the devilish, instigator ways of Abra that led things to go gone too far.
“You cheater, I slapped the deck first, those cards were mine,” shouted the defiant Abra at the cheating Holofernes.
“Whatever woman, those cards belong to me, I am the doubles-slapping master,” declared Holofernes. Taunting the women of the card game, he held his arms in the air as if cheering for his own victories falsely won.
“Why must we always have these feuds when playing Neapolitan Mouse Snatch,” whimpered Judith with her concerned brow.
“Just relax, Judith we’re just having some fun, as usual. I thought you liked this game,” replied Abra.
“I…I do…it’s just I hate when you and Holofernes are so competitive,” Judith sheepishly answered.
“Stop your ridiculousness, Judith. There always seems to be something plaguing you,” exclaimed Holofernes. “Try to have a bite more fun. Now pass me the wine and lets keep enjoying ourselves shall we.”
Judith reluctantly took a deep breath to perk herself up for the rest of the evening she would be spending with an intoxicated Holofernes and the always boisterous Abra. She could feel the anxiety looming over her, the way it always did when she would hang out with the two of them. Judith suffered greatly from a lack of self-confidence and tended to get pushed around by her bold friends. Nevertheless, these were two of her best friends and she tolerated their negative qualities in the hopes that the good would make an appearance every so often.
“Some day I am going to be the…ahhh…bestest…ahhh…greatest general ever, juuussst you girls wait and see,” stammered the progressively more inebriated Holofernes. “You see that sword, I am the best swordsmen you two would ever be lucky enough to see.”
Holofernes stumbled from out of his seat, weaving to the left and to the right as he walked over to get his sword.
“See look at how good I am with my sword.” Holofernes swung his sword around as he paced about the tent, almost losing his balance as well as the grip on his weapon several times.
“Sit down you big shot before you hurt someone,” scolded Abra. “Let’s finish this card game already. I am totally going to beat you,” she said with a cocky smile on her face.
Abra and Holofernes were different from Judith in a sense. The three of them had been friends for so long and were similar in many ways. However, Judith lacked the same boldness that Abra and Holofernes seemed to completely possess. Judith was the meekest of the three and was always easily coxed into doing things that were not of her own design.
Judith quietly started to chime into this discussion of future careers. “I want to be a model for a great painter some day. Maybe a painter like Caravaggio or Artemisia.”
“What,” Holofernes scoffed.
“Well…I think that’s what I would like to do. Dress up, be portrayed as someone completely different…than myself,” Judith replied.
“You could never be a model,” stated Holofernes.
“Why…why not?” she asked.
“Please, Judith, you don’t have the faintest clue what a model really does.”
“I…I don’t?”
“And…seriously…you might want to rethink your diet if you’re actually going to pursue being a model. You’re looking a little on the softer side.”
Then Abra finally decided to chime in. “Why the hell are you being so rude, Holofernes, you jackass?”
“Abra, I’m just telling her the truth, unlike you, who would sugar coat every thing for your poor, innocent friend, Judith.”
Abra turned to Judith and said to her under her breath, “Are you going to let him speak to you that way?”
“What?” responded Judith, with tears welling in her eyes and shame smeared all across her face.”
“I asked you if you are going to let him speak to you that way. You should stand up for yourself.”
“I…I should?” replied Judith.
“Yes goddamn it!” Abra said with her teeth grinding and her face completely tensed with furious passion. “You should make him sorry for what he said.”
Judith asked as she sniffled, “But how?”
“If I were you I would make him feel my pain, feel the pain physically. He says mean things to you all the time. Now it’s your turn. Slap him or something. Do it, just do something,” Abra insisted.
“I…I…” Judith stuttered quietly to her scheming friend. And then she started to look around the room for ideas of pay-back. Judith thought to herself about how mad and hurt Holofernes always made her feel. She glanced at him as he was now lounging on his bed chuckling to his-drunken-self; he was thinking he was so cleaver and had got her down for good. “Not any more,” Judith thought to herself.
She had become uncontrollably enraged. She swiftly grabbed Holofernes sword with a look of determination and rage in her eyes. She whipped around with the sword in her right hand and proceeded to attack Holofernes while he was lying helplessly on his bed.
“What are you doing?” screamed Abra.
“Getting my revenge! Help me!” cried Judith.
“Oh God,” gasped Abra.
“If you’re truly my friend, then help me.”
Knowing it was too late for Judith to turn back, as she had already started to strike Holofernes with his own sword, Abra rushed to restrain him. She couldn’t very well have both of her friends die from this situation (wasn’t she the one who suggested the revenge in the first place?).
“Hold his arms down,” Judith demanded. Suddenly the meekest one of their group was now the most aggressively demanding. Maybe there was something in the air of the night.
Wednesday, February 14, 2007
Reading Journal-Assignment 7
Juvenal is very critical of those who struggle to obtain a great amount of wealth and the exaltation of wealth. The narrator (or Juvenal) immediately starts out on a rant explaining why he satirizes things at all and a huge reason why is because of this infuriating behavior, such as worshipping wealth. He states, “Weatlh has the prior claim, and the badge of the sacred office…Wealth, in our hearts, is set in the veriest Holy of Holies, Though we have not yet built temples in honor of Money” (p. 21). This shows how the population he’s talking about worships money just as if it was a deity or god to be honored in a building resembling something as sacred as a temple.
In Innocents Abroad, Twain creates a more dynamic narrator who is critical of wealth, for example his criticism of the Medici family, but at the same time he appreciates all the products of wealth and it is the measurement by which he judges the value of anything. Through a series of thoughts you eventually come to understand the dichotomy of Twain’s narrator’s ironic concepts regarding wealth, whereas, Juvenal’s narrator is more obvious is his disdain for concerns of wealth.
I think Twain values free speech and depicts his narrator as someone who is annoyed at the Roman people for not taking advantage of this very powerful form. His narrator doesn’t want to be bothered by the impoverished people hanging around the attraction to bother him because it’s really their own fault for not taking charge within their government. I’m pretty confused as to what Juvenal thinks about free speech, but I think he shows his lack of confidence for the people to ever stand up for themselves and be truthful; therefore, this value of free speech is lost on them. Twain represents a very playful attitude about the arts in his story. The narrator mocks St. Peter’s as being too “bulky,” and yet he loves it as well. There’s a certain sarcastic attitude towards Michelangelo and how he was your basic “over-achiever” designing half of Rome, it seemed. Juvenal does not have this playful affection/mocking tone towards the arts, artists, and patrons. He sees the whole system as being corrupt and nasty. I think Juvenal would value “truth” and “control over one’s greed” to be the most noble qualities. He says that, “Virtue alone is proof of nobility” and I think that truth and elimination of greed are two characteristics of nobility that Juvenal is lobbying for.
First Satire: “Meanwhile, all by himself, on a couch unshared, their good king will/Gobble and guzzle the choicest products of land and ocean. Down goes a whole estate; from such luxurious tables,/Broad and antique, down goes a whole estate at one sitting” (p. 22).
I liked this quote because it made me think of the king as sitting down and consumed an entire house. He eats a quantity the size of an entire property/estate/house! I think this is a good use of hyperbole in order to get the idea across that these rich men are consuming so much in excess that it equates an entire household.
Fifth Satire: “To the main event, a battle royal, the freedmen/ Versus the rest of you, with goblets and crockery flying./You stop a jug with your face, pick up a napkin to wipe it” (p. 56).
This quote is crazy because the thought of having your face smashed in with a jug and then wiping yourself off with a napkin, and then for everything to fine and dandy is absurd. I think this is definitely a use of burlesque, since having your face broken is serious and giving it a wipe of the napkin to fix it is silly and ridiculous.
Seventh Satire: “What big lies they puff out as they heave and pant like a bellows/Drooling all over their chins and halfway down to their navels!” (p. 95).
I believe this quote employs some hyperbole and some irony. This quote’s funny because it makes you wonder how any of the lawyers succeed if all we’re to see them as are these drooling idiots in court.
Eighth Satire: “how does he dare be/Proud of the conqueror’s title bestowed, or of the Great Altar,/Hercules’ own, if he’s silly, and avaricious, and softer/Than a Euganean lamb? The chests of his forebears were hairy;/Look at him, though, with his butt all smootherd by Catanian pumices!” (p. 102).
I definitely think this is Juvenal’s use of mock-heroics, parody, and irony all in one. This passage amused me because I can’t image myself looking up to this heroic figure after the humorous physical description that is given. I think that’s the whole point.
In Innocents Abroad, Twain creates a more dynamic narrator who is critical of wealth, for example his criticism of the Medici family, but at the same time he appreciates all the products of wealth and it is the measurement by which he judges the value of anything. Through a series of thoughts you eventually come to understand the dichotomy of Twain’s narrator’s ironic concepts regarding wealth, whereas, Juvenal’s narrator is more obvious is his disdain for concerns of wealth.
I think Twain values free speech and depicts his narrator as someone who is annoyed at the Roman people for not taking advantage of this very powerful form. His narrator doesn’t want to be bothered by the impoverished people hanging around the attraction to bother him because it’s really their own fault for not taking charge within their government. I’m pretty confused as to what Juvenal thinks about free speech, but I think he shows his lack of confidence for the people to ever stand up for themselves and be truthful; therefore, this value of free speech is lost on them. Twain represents a very playful attitude about the arts in his story. The narrator mocks St. Peter’s as being too “bulky,” and yet he loves it as well. There’s a certain sarcastic attitude towards Michelangelo and how he was your basic “over-achiever” designing half of Rome, it seemed. Juvenal does not have this playful affection/mocking tone towards the arts, artists, and patrons. He sees the whole system as being corrupt and nasty. I think Juvenal would value “truth” and “control over one’s greed” to be the most noble qualities. He says that, “Virtue alone is proof of nobility” and I think that truth and elimination of greed are two characteristics of nobility that Juvenal is lobbying for.
First Satire: “Meanwhile, all by himself, on a couch unshared, their good king will/Gobble and guzzle the choicest products of land and ocean. Down goes a whole estate; from such luxurious tables,/Broad and antique, down goes a whole estate at one sitting” (p. 22).
I liked this quote because it made me think of the king as sitting down and consumed an entire house. He eats a quantity the size of an entire property/estate/house! I think this is a good use of hyperbole in order to get the idea across that these rich men are consuming so much in excess that it equates an entire household.
Fifth Satire: “To the main event, a battle royal, the freedmen/ Versus the rest of you, with goblets and crockery flying./You stop a jug with your face, pick up a napkin to wipe it” (p. 56).
This quote is crazy because the thought of having your face smashed in with a jug and then wiping yourself off with a napkin, and then for everything to fine and dandy is absurd. I think this is definitely a use of burlesque, since having your face broken is serious and giving it a wipe of the napkin to fix it is silly and ridiculous.
Seventh Satire: “What big lies they puff out as they heave and pant like a bellows/Drooling all over their chins and halfway down to their navels!” (p. 95).
I believe this quote employs some hyperbole and some irony. This quote’s funny because it makes you wonder how any of the lawyers succeed if all we’re to see them as are these drooling idiots in court.
Eighth Satire: “how does he dare be/Proud of the conqueror’s title bestowed, or of the Great Altar,/Hercules’ own, if he’s silly, and avaricious, and softer/Than a Euganean lamb? The chests of his forebears were hairy;/Look at him, though, with his butt all smootherd by Catanian pumices!” (p. 102).
I definitely think this is Juvenal’s use of mock-heroics, parody, and irony all in one. This passage amused me because I can’t image myself looking up to this heroic figure after the humorous physical description that is given. I think that’s the whole point.
Monday, February 12, 2007
Writing Journal-Assignment 6
So I have changed my mind...I really like writing in first person, for the most part. I find that I tend to use my characters to tell of my own anecdotes, but at the same time changing them in some ways for purposes of the story. However, in this case, I think that my character might be pretty flat. The narrator doesn’t really change at all by the end of the story. I tried to satirize the narrator to a certain extent, but I didn’t really see a way to create a problem or conflict for them to resolve. And the most challenging part of writing the satirical piece was the entire assignment. I mean come on, how can we follow an amazing act like Twain. I didn’t know how to present humor appropriately for this piece. I tried to satirize a couple of figures in this piece, but I just don’t know if I was able to fully satirize one figure in the same way that Twain would have.
Sunday, February 11, 2007
Writing Assignment #6
An American Tourist Grocery Shopping in Rome
I enjoy grocery shopping and cooking immensely. So when I managed to book my first trip to Rome, Italy I of course became extremely eager to experience the wonders of shopping at Italian grocery stores with the locals and savor the delectable Italian cuisine. As soon as I arrived at the airport I tracked down a taxi, gave the driver my destination, and headed on to the city. The drive into Rome was absolutely enchanting. The streetlights’ muted glow of yellow illuminated the buildings in the dark night just enough so that I knew they were there and they appeared beautiful in a way that I suppose only Roman buildings could. As the taxi approached the heart of Rome we crossed the Tiber River, which seemed to have the moon glazing its water as it danced upon the crystal lined surface.
My taxi finally arrived at the Campo di Fiori and the driver told me the total cost was 60 euro, which I found to be confusing since the meter in the car read 40.07 euro exactly. As I gestured to the meter, my advocate for an honest price, and presented my driver with a puzzled look he startled to wave his hands and said, “Night fare, night fare.” “Oh ok, I guess that makes more sense,” I thought to myself and just before I started to move for my wallet he said, “I give you special price, I give you special price…50 euro.” How sweet, he was offering me a better price and not trying to scam me at all. I paid the driver without any question of his moral integrity or sincerity. I was excited if this was to be a good foreshadowing of how all the other Italians were going to treat me while visiting their city.
The next morning, I set out determined to resolve my ever-increasing hunger for some really phenomenal Italian food. I wandered down the alleys, with my Eyewitness travel book in hand, wide eyed, looking for something that would resemble a grocery store. With a couple of turns down random alleys in the Campo, some of which seemed to take me in a circle, I found my “Mecca;” I had found a grocery store, named Punto. Granted it was the smallest little hole in the wall establishment I had ever seen and I had expected something a little grander in stature (I thought Italians were suppose to be really serious about their food), but I was so excited all expectations completely escaped from my mind.
I entered, grinning, even drooling a little at the thought of some delicious Italian treats, and then my euphoria was enhanced as I intersected with the strong aroma of something incredibly fishy. The fragrance was so strong I could feel the flesh peeling off from inside my nasals. I have to say it was the most enjoyable burning sensation I had ever experienced. I suppose I have always delight in a bite of physical pain when I’m commencing grocery shopping. I proceeded to commandeer a shopping cart and then continue on into the rest of the store.
As I strolled through the first aisle I took note of the petite size of the store and its adorably dwarfed aisles. This had to be the most claustropho-bically comfortable grocery store I had ever been in. I felt like the other shoppers and I were snuggled together in the aisle of dairy and bread. Considering the size of the aisle, we might as well be camping out somewhere and cramming oh cozily into the same airtight sleeping bag. Grocery shopping here was going to be a great way to get to know the Roman people, and fast.
Next, I perused the aisle swarming with the vast pasta selection. As I pondered my different choices - farfelle, spaghetti, tortellini, linguine – I seemed to be pushed around by the determined Italian shoppers. They grazed and clipped my cart in such routine way; they truly made me feel at home. There’s really nothing like a little battery at the grocery store to make you feel accepted and loved. This hustle and bustle activity continued throughout the rest of the store, all 36 square feet of it. Every time I reached for something someone else was right behind me trying to help themselves to the supplies they obviously needed to have more instantly than myself. When in Rome, I guess people are in more of a hurry. Their pushing and shoving around me couldn’t possibly be a sign of their dislike for me or of their inherently rude natural. This is not even possible.
Finally, it was time to check out after profusely weaving my cart around in order to allow those eager Roman shoppers to pass along their way. Besides my task of shopping is always accomplished in a more efficient manner when I let someone’s or some people’s pushiness guide my every move. I got to the check out line and then it was my turn to pay for my stuff. The clerk rang up my total, 21.38 euro. All I had was one of the 50 euro bills the atm has spit out to me that morning. When I handed the bill to the check out woman, her eyes seemed to radiate a certain hatred for my very existence and her chin curled up as her bushy brows started to severely furrow. Apparently she wanted me to give her some smaller change, but I simply threw my arms up in the air out of helplessness to demonstrate to her that I had no other way to pay, other than that 50 euro bill that was so outrageously unacceptable to her. As she reluctantly counted out the change she need to give to me, I saw that she was so kindly giving me back all of my change in coins alone. Thankfully she was doing this so that my wallet would way at least a metric ton, thus making me feel rich and fully prepared to pay someone in smaller change when the need should arise again.
I enjoy grocery shopping and cooking immensely. So when I managed to book my first trip to Rome, Italy I of course became extremely eager to experience the wonders of shopping at Italian grocery stores with the locals and savor the delectable Italian cuisine. As soon as I arrived at the airport I tracked down a taxi, gave the driver my destination, and headed on to the city. The drive into Rome was absolutely enchanting. The streetlights’ muted glow of yellow illuminated the buildings in the dark night just enough so that I knew they were there and they appeared beautiful in a way that I suppose only Roman buildings could. As the taxi approached the heart of Rome we crossed the Tiber River, which seemed to have the moon glazing its water as it danced upon the crystal lined surface.
My taxi finally arrived at the Campo di Fiori and the driver told me the total cost was 60 euro, which I found to be confusing since the meter in the car read 40.07 euro exactly. As I gestured to the meter, my advocate for an honest price, and presented my driver with a puzzled look he startled to wave his hands and said, “Night fare, night fare.” “Oh ok, I guess that makes more sense,” I thought to myself and just before I started to move for my wallet he said, “I give you special price, I give you special price…50 euro.” How sweet, he was offering me a better price and not trying to scam me at all. I paid the driver without any question of his moral integrity or sincerity. I was excited if this was to be a good foreshadowing of how all the other Italians were going to treat me while visiting their city.
The next morning, I set out determined to resolve my ever-increasing hunger for some really phenomenal Italian food. I wandered down the alleys, with my Eyewitness travel book in hand, wide eyed, looking for something that would resemble a grocery store. With a couple of turns down random alleys in the Campo, some of which seemed to take me in a circle, I found my “Mecca;” I had found a grocery store, named Punto. Granted it was the smallest little hole in the wall establishment I had ever seen and I had expected something a little grander in stature (I thought Italians were suppose to be really serious about their food), but I was so excited all expectations completely escaped from my mind.
I entered, grinning, even drooling a little at the thought of some delicious Italian treats, and then my euphoria was enhanced as I intersected with the strong aroma of something incredibly fishy. The fragrance was so strong I could feel the flesh peeling off from inside my nasals. I have to say it was the most enjoyable burning sensation I had ever experienced. I suppose I have always delight in a bite of physical pain when I’m commencing grocery shopping. I proceeded to commandeer a shopping cart and then continue on into the rest of the store.
As I strolled through the first aisle I took note of the petite size of the store and its adorably dwarfed aisles. This had to be the most claustropho-bically comfortable grocery store I had ever been in. I felt like the other shoppers and I were snuggled together in the aisle of dairy and bread. Considering the size of the aisle, we might as well be camping out somewhere and cramming oh cozily into the same airtight sleeping bag. Grocery shopping here was going to be a great way to get to know the Roman people, and fast.
Next, I perused the aisle swarming with the vast pasta selection. As I pondered my different choices - farfelle, spaghetti, tortellini, linguine – I seemed to be pushed around by the determined Italian shoppers. They grazed and clipped my cart in such routine way; they truly made me feel at home. There’s really nothing like a little battery at the grocery store to make you feel accepted and loved. This hustle and bustle activity continued throughout the rest of the store, all 36 square feet of it. Every time I reached for something someone else was right behind me trying to help themselves to the supplies they obviously needed to have more instantly than myself. When in Rome, I guess people are in more of a hurry. Their pushing and shoving around me couldn’t possibly be a sign of their dislike for me or of their inherently rude natural. This is not even possible.
Finally, it was time to check out after profusely weaving my cart around in order to allow those eager Roman shoppers to pass along their way. Besides my task of shopping is always accomplished in a more efficient manner when I let someone’s or some people’s pushiness guide my every move. I got to the check out line and then it was my turn to pay for my stuff. The clerk rang up my total, 21.38 euro. All I had was one of the 50 euro bills the atm has spit out to me that morning. When I handed the bill to the check out woman, her eyes seemed to radiate a certain hatred for my very existence and her chin curled up as her bushy brows started to severely furrow. Apparently she wanted me to give her some smaller change, but I simply threw my arms up in the air out of helplessness to demonstrate to her that I had no other way to pay, other than that 50 euro bill that was so outrageously unacceptable to her. As she reluctantly counted out the change she need to give to me, I saw that she was so kindly giving me back all of my change in coins alone. Thankfully she was doing this so that my wallet would way at least a metric ton, thus making me feel rich and fully prepared to pay someone in smaller change when the need should arise again.
Thursday, February 8, 2007
Reading Journal-Assignment 6
Reading Journal – The Innocents Abroad by Mark Twain
Institutions and figures satirized:
Bankrupt government/Italy: killing people with taxation to salvage itself, starving people to create wonderful churches, full of beggars (compared to America), evil eye and treasury,
Churches of Italy: rich, uselessly decadent,
Medici: tyrannical, indulgent, self-centered
Beggars: friendless orphan
Dominican friars: barefooted rascals, ignorant or illiterate,
Civitavecchia and its people: hot, dirty, disgusting, deathly smelly, populated with stupid, unclean, and talentless people, full of bugs, as advanced as Turkey
America: populated with people that can actually read, lacking in soldiers and priests, much wiser and knowledgeable compared to Romans, provides convicts with duel roles
Modern Romans: boundlessly ignorant, illiterate, simple,
American politicians: must be rich, “ignorant asses,”
Jews: dogs in Italy, humans in America
St. Peter’s: bulky, uncomprehendably large, turns full-grown men into insignificant school boys,
Roman Christians: “good” by torturing, brutal when it comes to converting (the Barbarians)
Pantheon: beautiful, pagan, tricked into a Christian establishment, has pagan elements disguised as Christian (i.e. Venus statue as Mary)
Colosseum: isolated, was the theater of Rome and the entire world
Michelangelo: designed a scary amount of Rome
Tour guides: “know enough English to tangle everything up so that a man can make neither head nor tail of it”
Six moments of word choice with humor (identify the humorous word/s):
“The people here live in alleys two yards wide, which have a smell about them which is peculiar but not entertaining. It is well the alleys are not wider, because they hold as much smell now as a person can stand, and of course if they were wider they would hold more, and then the people would die” (193).
---The words “peculiar, entertaining, and die” add the humorous element because it’s funny to think of a smell ever being entertaining. It’s even more so when Twain abruptly says that more of the smell would kill the people, when in actually this would never happen.
“These alleys are paved with stone and carpeted with deceased cats and decayed rags and decomposed vegetable tops and remnants of old boots, all soaked with dishwater, and the people sit around on stools and enjoy it” (193).
---“carpeted with deceased cats” and “people…enjoy it” are so ironically funny together in this sentence.
---People would never “enjoy” alleys that are composed of all these disgusting elements. It’s surprising when Twain adds this fact at the end of a most repulsive description of the city’s streets.
“They have other kinds of insects, but it does not make them arrogant. They are very quiet, unpretending people. They have more of these kind of things than other communities, but they do not boast” (194).
---“arrogant” and “do not boast” provoke the most humor and surprise because you would never consider bragging about have an ample supply of bugs in the city that you live in.
“…if a man be rich he is very greatly honored, and can become a legislator, a governor, a general, a senator, no matter how ignorant an ass he is—just as in our beloved Italy the nobles hold all the great places, even though sometimes they are born noble idiots” (198).
---“ignorant” and “ass” make this idea funny because it’s ridiculous, but true that a stupid man can get into practically any position of power, so long as he has the money; and people will honor and praise him for the things he does out of his own ignorance because he is in this position of power/control
“In that country you might fall from a third-story window three several times, and not mash either a soldier or a priest” (198-199).
---“several times” and “mash” are the funniest part of this sentence. Twain is emphasizing the shocking small amount of soldiers and priests in American compared to Rome, while at the same time making fun of both places for their extreme quantities, or lack there of. He does this using a funny image for the reader so they can his point and have a bizarre image running through their minds at the same time.
“…it is said they even have the privilege of buying land and houses, and owning them themselves, though I doubt that, myself…” (199).
---“privilege” and “I doubt that, myself” are what make Twain’s point so humorous; this idea that Jews are actually treated as people, and have normal (inherently deserved) civil rights, as opposed to how they are treated in Rome. And since Twain is evoking the Roman traveler’s voice it makes it very funny that he would doubt the actual possibility that Jews would be treated so well in America. How could that ever be true (from the view point of the Roman)?
Devices Twain employs to achieve this effect:
In order to achieve the effects of this thoroughly humorous and entertaining satire, Twain uses a lot of irony or an element of surprise and illustrates stereotypes, mundane truths, as well as exaggerations. I found that as the reader I was laughing the most when wrote of ideas that would never actually be true and facts of life that were greatly exaggerated.
Institutions and figures satirized:
Bankrupt government/Italy: killing people with taxation to salvage itself, starving people to create wonderful churches, full of beggars (compared to America), evil eye and treasury,
Churches of Italy: rich, uselessly decadent,
Medici: tyrannical, indulgent, self-centered
Beggars: friendless orphan
Dominican friars: barefooted rascals, ignorant or illiterate,
Civitavecchia and its people: hot, dirty, disgusting, deathly smelly, populated with stupid, unclean, and talentless people, full of bugs, as advanced as Turkey
America: populated with people that can actually read, lacking in soldiers and priests, much wiser and knowledgeable compared to Romans, provides convicts with duel roles
Modern Romans: boundlessly ignorant, illiterate, simple,
American politicians: must be rich, “ignorant asses,”
Jews: dogs in Italy, humans in America
St. Peter’s: bulky, uncomprehendably large, turns full-grown men into insignificant school boys,
Roman Christians: “good” by torturing, brutal when it comes to converting (the Barbarians)
Pantheon: beautiful, pagan, tricked into a Christian establishment, has pagan elements disguised as Christian (i.e. Venus statue as Mary)
Colosseum: isolated, was the theater of Rome and the entire world
Michelangelo: designed a scary amount of Rome
Tour guides: “know enough English to tangle everything up so that a man can make neither head nor tail of it”
Six moments of word choice with humor (identify the humorous word/s):
“The people here live in alleys two yards wide, which have a smell about them which is peculiar but not entertaining. It is well the alleys are not wider, because they hold as much smell now as a person can stand, and of course if they were wider they would hold more, and then the people would die” (193).
---The words “peculiar, entertaining, and die” add the humorous element because it’s funny to think of a smell ever being entertaining. It’s even more so when Twain abruptly says that more of the smell would kill the people, when in actually this would never happen.
“These alleys are paved with stone and carpeted with deceased cats and decayed rags and decomposed vegetable tops and remnants of old boots, all soaked with dishwater, and the people sit around on stools and enjoy it” (193).
---“carpeted with deceased cats” and “people…enjoy it” are so ironically funny together in this sentence.
---People would never “enjoy” alleys that are composed of all these disgusting elements. It’s surprising when Twain adds this fact at the end of a most repulsive description of the city’s streets.
“They have other kinds of insects, but it does not make them arrogant. They are very quiet, unpretending people. They have more of these kind of things than other communities, but they do not boast” (194).
---“arrogant” and “do not boast” provoke the most humor and surprise because you would never consider bragging about have an ample supply of bugs in the city that you live in.
“…if a man be rich he is very greatly honored, and can become a legislator, a governor, a general, a senator, no matter how ignorant an ass he is—just as in our beloved Italy the nobles hold all the great places, even though sometimes they are born noble idiots” (198).
---“ignorant” and “ass” make this idea funny because it’s ridiculous, but true that a stupid man can get into practically any position of power, so long as he has the money; and people will honor and praise him for the things he does out of his own ignorance because he is in this position of power/control
“In that country you might fall from a third-story window three several times, and not mash either a soldier or a priest” (198-199).
---“several times” and “mash” are the funniest part of this sentence. Twain is emphasizing the shocking small amount of soldiers and priests in American compared to Rome, while at the same time making fun of both places for their extreme quantities, or lack there of. He does this using a funny image for the reader so they can his point and have a bizarre image running through their minds at the same time.
“…it is said they even have the privilege of buying land and houses, and owning them themselves, though I doubt that, myself…” (199).
---“privilege” and “I doubt that, myself” are what make Twain’s point so humorous; this idea that Jews are actually treated as people, and have normal (inherently deserved) civil rights, as opposed to how they are treated in Rome. And since Twain is evoking the Roman traveler’s voice it makes it very funny that he would doubt the actual possibility that Jews would be treated so well in America. How could that ever be true (from the view point of the Roman)?
Devices Twain employs to achieve this effect:
In order to achieve the effects of this thoroughly humorous and entertaining satire, Twain uses a lot of irony or an element of surprise and illustrates stereotypes, mundane truths, as well as exaggerations. I found that as the reader I was laughing the most when wrote of ideas that would never actually be true and facts of life that were greatly exaggerated.
Monday, February 5, 2007
Writing Journal-Assignment 5
I chose the character I did because I was having a difficult time beginning the assignment, since I kept getting distracted by my music. And then I just decided to let my distraction be my inspiration. I had a really hard time creating a convincing character by “showing and not telling.” This is always my greatest challenge because I find it difficult to not let my writing get hindered by this type of logistical constraint. I felt like because I was trying to show so much, that some of her more substantial characteristics were left behind because I couldn’t just come and tell the reader that she was “x” of “y.” I wrote my story in a completely contemporary setting/circumstance that anyone, especially my peers, would recognize. I find it much more difficult to write in past time periods, rather than the contemporary. To be totally honest I was so completely fatigued by this assignment, it took me hours to try and show versus tell.
Writing Assignment #5
To Be An American Pop Princess
Backstage Jessica could hear the roar of the crowd. The noise of their hands colliding together and their voices straining for volume in order to get her back on stage was deafening. They chanted, “Encore, encore, encore!” Jessica could feel the exhaustion aching in every one of her muscles, but she quickly caught her breath before the various people controlling the show’s logistics acted as her shepherds, maneuvering her back onto stage like she was one from their flocks. She pasted on her million-dollar smile as she skip-ran back to her adoring fans. As she returned to center stage, Jessica saw hundreds of signs all saying the same thing, “I love you Jessica Spears!” or “I’m your #1 fan Jessica!” She gave her signal to the band and dancers, the drums began to rattle, the fans started to scream, and Jessica’s angelic voice started the first line of the last song.
Jessica Christina Spears, born some two decades ago, had always been told that she had the voice of an angel. Upon hearing her sing, friends and family would immediately be floating euphorically on a cloud somewhere high in the heavens. Just as marvelous was, and still is, her unparalleled beauty. Her blonde tresses were just like brilliant rays of sunlight, and her dazzling blue eyes were a portal for anyone who makes eye contact with her, to the crystal blue sky or shimmering sapphire waters of the sea. Jessica definitely had a passion for singing, but it wasn’t as grand as the passion her parents had for her to become the most famous singer possible. Fast forward to today, and Jessica is at the tenth concert of her third world tour, and she’s the most famous pop “princess” from the USA, thus fully realizing the dreams of her parents.
Jessica stepped off the stage for the last time tonight and was whisked away to her dressing room by her team of people. She was dripping wet and her clothes stuck to her as if her sweat and make-up had fused together to become a permanent glue. Her faithful assistant, Candy took on the arduous task of continuously yanking at Jessica’s Dolce & Gabbana leather pants until they would finally released their grip from her perfectly toned thigh muscles. After she had been helped out of her performance clothes Jessica refreshed her aching body with a cleansing shower. While showering, she wondered to herself how she ever got to this place in life. Concert after concert, interviews after interviews, nightly show appearances. Life never seemed to stop and ask her what she wanted any more.
While under the soothing beads of the hot shower her mind took over, slipping into a fanciful state where she thought about her deepest, unfulfilled dreams: going college; friends she wished she had, but was never in one place long enough to make; places in the world she wanted to go to and not remain a captive in the confines of a hotel room. Realizing her mind had run away with itself, Jessica shook her head in order to fling those fanciful ideas out of her mind, got out of the shower, got dressed, and braced herself for the hoards of people she still had to deal with in order for her night to be over.
Just as she was applying the pale green and brown eye shadows that were supposed to highlight her much admired blue eyes, her manager, Jonathan rattled the hinges of the door as he stormed into the room. He informed he that there were already critical reports surfacing that Jessica had lip-synched through the entire concert. Her eyes started to well up from the inside out, as if the weak damns in place were going to let the floodwaters break through. Jessica was so weary of these types of scandals always being brought against her. And for what…so that some ridiculous source could profit by slandering her reputation as an artist. Jessica had always been able to confront the press using her charm and self-confidant image to whole heatedly negate the accusations against her. Jessica exuded confidence to everyone around her, but inside she knew these criticisms constantly being brought against her didn’t help with her inner issues of self-consciousness. She felt like everyone-her fans, her family, her manager-presumed to know her, when she didn’t even know herself any more. Jessica’s world had become increasingly confusing to her as the years progressed.
Seeing that she was upset Jonathan started to caress her neck and weave his fingers through her golden locks. Jessica shrugged her shoulder indicating to him that it was even more upsetting for him to continue his ways of seduction. She turned around giving him an all-knowing glance so he would know it was over. She knew that he was taking advantage of their cozy little situation of mixing business with pleasure, by giving himself extras shares of her earnings when he thought she didn’t know. He needed to know that she didn’t need him to fix her problems any more. She was always the one charming her way out of these scandals the media kept projecting onto her. Things were finally starting to seem clear, after having been so unclear for so long. Jessica knew what she needed to do. Her mind, body, and heart ached from all that she was enduring just appease the public that demanded everything of her. She wanted to fulfill those dreams she had fantasized about for way too long. She didn’t know how, but she was going to remedy this problem of her not running her own life.
Backstage Jessica could hear the roar of the crowd. The noise of their hands colliding together and their voices straining for volume in order to get her back on stage was deafening. They chanted, “Encore, encore, encore!” Jessica could feel the exhaustion aching in every one of her muscles, but she quickly caught her breath before the various people controlling the show’s logistics acted as her shepherds, maneuvering her back onto stage like she was one from their flocks. She pasted on her million-dollar smile as she skip-ran back to her adoring fans. As she returned to center stage, Jessica saw hundreds of signs all saying the same thing, “I love you Jessica Spears!” or “I’m your #1 fan Jessica!” She gave her signal to the band and dancers, the drums began to rattle, the fans started to scream, and Jessica’s angelic voice started the first line of the last song.
Jessica Christina Spears, born some two decades ago, had always been told that she had the voice of an angel. Upon hearing her sing, friends and family would immediately be floating euphorically on a cloud somewhere high in the heavens. Just as marvelous was, and still is, her unparalleled beauty. Her blonde tresses were just like brilliant rays of sunlight, and her dazzling blue eyes were a portal for anyone who makes eye contact with her, to the crystal blue sky or shimmering sapphire waters of the sea. Jessica definitely had a passion for singing, but it wasn’t as grand as the passion her parents had for her to become the most famous singer possible. Fast forward to today, and Jessica is at the tenth concert of her third world tour, and she’s the most famous pop “princess” from the USA, thus fully realizing the dreams of her parents.
Jessica stepped off the stage for the last time tonight and was whisked away to her dressing room by her team of people. She was dripping wet and her clothes stuck to her as if her sweat and make-up had fused together to become a permanent glue. Her faithful assistant, Candy took on the arduous task of continuously yanking at Jessica’s Dolce & Gabbana leather pants until they would finally released their grip from her perfectly toned thigh muscles. After she had been helped out of her performance clothes Jessica refreshed her aching body with a cleansing shower. While showering, she wondered to herself how she ever got to this place in life. Concert after concert, interviews after interviews, nightly show appearances. Life never seemed to stop and ask her what she wanted any more.
While under the soothing beads of the hot shower her mind took over, slipping into a fanciful state where she thought about her deepest, unfulfilled dreams: going college; friends she wished she had, but was never in one place long enough to make; places in the world she wanted to go to and not remain a captive in the confines of a hotel room. Realizing her mind had run away with itself, Jessica shook her head in order to fling those fanciful ideas out of her mind, got out of the shower, got dressed, and braced herself for the hoards of people she still had to deal with in order for her night to be over.
Just as she was applying the pale green and brown eye shadows that were supposed to highlight her much admired blue eyes, her manager, Jonathan rattled the hinges of the door as he stormed into the room. He informed he that there were already critical reports surfacing that Jessica had lip-synched through the entire concert. Her eyes started to well up from the inside out, as if the weak damns in place were going to let the floodwaters break through. Jessica was so weary of these types of scandals always being brought against her. And for what…so that some ridiculous source could profit by slandering her reputation as an artist. Jessica had always been able to confront the press using her charm and self-confidant image to whole heatedly negate the accusations against her. Jessica exuded confidence to everyone around her, but inside she knew these criticisms constantly being brought against her didn’t help with her inner issues of self-consciousness. She felt like everyone-her fans, her family, her manager-presumed to know her, when she didn’t even know herself any more. Jessica’s world had become increasingly confusing to her as the years progressed.
Seeing that she was upset Jonathan started to caress her neck and weave his fingers through her golden locks. Jessica shrugged her shoulder indicating to him that it was even more upsetting for him to continue his ways of seduction. She turned around giving him an all-knowing glance so he would know it was over. She knew that he was taking advantage of their cozy little situation of mixing business with pleasure, by giving himself extras shares of her earnings when he thought she didn’t know. He needed to know that she didn’t need him to fix her problems any more. She was always the one charming her way out of these scandals the media kept projecting onto her. Things were finally starting to seem clear, after having been so unclear for so long. Jessica knew what she needed to do. Her mind, body, and heart ached from all that she was enduring just appease the public that demanded everything of her. She wanted to fulfill those dreams she had fantasized about for way too long. She didn’t know how, but she was going to remedy this problem of her not running her own life.
Thursday, February 1, 2007
Reading Journal-Assignment 5
Middlemarch, by George Eliot
Dorothea - idealist, naïve, selfish, romantic, neglected/unfulfilled
shows: “all this vast wreck of ambitious ideals, sensuous and spiritual, mixed confusedly with the signs of breathing forgetfulness and degradation, at first jarred her as with an electric shock, and then urged themselves on her with the ache belonging to a glut of confused ideas which check the flow of emotion.” p. 181
shows: “…Dorothea’s ideas and resolves seemed like melting ice floating and lost in the warm flood of which they had been but another form.” p. 186
tell: This is showing her idealistic ideals colliding with reality.
Mr. Casaubon - oblivious, misunderstood, dull, routine-stricken, unimaginative
shows: “ ‘Yes,’ said Mr. Casaubon, with that peculiar pitch of voice which makes the word half a negative.” P.187
tell: This tells that Mr. Casaubon says one thing, but means another; he’s not always entirely honest.
Will Ladislaw - charming, arrogant, questionable, unrestrained, competitive
shows: “Will Ladislaw’s smile was delightful, unless you were angry with him beforehand: it was a gush of inward light illuminating the transparent skin as well as the eyes, and playing about every curve and lines as if some Ariel were touching them with a new charm, and banishing for ever the traces of moodiness.” p. 192
tell: This tells the reader that he’s a man who is immediately charming upon meeting him. He has smile that radiates and will make people happy and feel up-lighted by being in his “smiley” company
In Eliot’s opinion (found in On Realism) what are some of the author’s most important responsibilities when designing characters for fiction?
Do you think she “practices what she preaches” in Middlemarch? Why or why not?
Yes, I think her characters feel very real to the reader. The conflict is realistic and complicated. Dorothea seems especially real to me because there are times in the story where I truly sympathize with her, even like her, and other times I really don’t like who she is. I think characters seems the most real when they are conflicted and have multiple qualities about them that are viewed as both positive and negative.
Dorothea - idealist, naïve, selfish, romantic, neglected/unfulfilled
shows: “all this vast wreck of ambitious ideals, sensuous and spiritual, mixed confusedly with the signs of breathing forgetfulness and degradation, at first jarred her as with an electric shock, and then urged themselves on her with the ache belonging to a glut of confused ideas which check the flow of emotion.” p. 181
shows: “…Dorothea’s ideas and resolves seemed like melting ice floating and lost in the warm flood of which they had been but another form.” p. 186
tell: This is showing her idealistic ideals colliding with reality.
Mr. Casaubon - oblivious, misunderstood, dull, routine-stricken, unimaginative
shows: “ ‘Yes,’ said Mr. Casaubon, with that peculiar pitch of voice which makes the word half a negative.” P.187
tell: This tells that Mr. Casaubon says one thing, but means another; he’s not always entirely honest.
Will Ladislaw - charming, arrogant, questionable, unrestrained, competitive
shows: “Will Ladislaw’s smile was delightful, unless you were angry with him beforehand: it was a gush of inward light illuminating the transparent skin as well as the eyes, and playing about every curve and lines as if some Ariel were touching them with a new charm, and banishing for ever the traces of moodiness.” p. 192
tell: This tells the reader that he’s a man who is immediately charming upon meeting him. He has smile that radiates and will make people happy and feel up-lighted by being in his “smiley” company
In Eliot’s opinion (found in On Realism) what are some of the author’s most important responsibilities when designing characters for fiction?
Do you think she “practices what she preaches” in Middlemarch? Why or why not?
Yes, I think her characters feel very real to the reader. The conflict is realistic and complicated. Dorothea seems especially real to me because there are times in the story where I truly sympathize with her, even like her, and other times I really don’t like who she is. I think characters seems the most real when they are conflicted and have multiple qualities about them that are viewed as both positive and negative.
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