Monthly Archives: March 2018

Ways of thinking about Helga Crane

How can we organize our discussion of Quicksand?

Geographical surroundings: The South (at Naxos); Chicago; New York; Denmark…

The Race Question: look at how Helga interacts with people of different races

Class surroundings: in New York with people of different socioeconomic status; Helga’s own relationship to money and class

Color (both race and not)

Family: as an orphan; as someone who has to tell her story; in relation to Uncle Peter; in relation to her mother and father; in relation to her Danish relatives

In relation to other characters: Mrs. Hayes-Rore; Anne Grey; Dr. Anderson (early and mid); James Vayle (early and mid); Uncle Peter.

Loves NY! Depressed and lonely!–no location can continue to make her happy until she reconciles what is troubling her. She’s trying to find joy in other things instead of finding joy in herself. She doesn’t want to be anything, not comfortable being anything.

Sultry

Adjective

Very hot and humid:Sweltering

https://www.merriam-webster.com/dictionary/sultry

This word was encountered in chapter 10 of quicksand.”Arriving at work one sultry day,hot and dispirited,she found a waiting letter,”

when I first saw this word I didn’t know what it meant because I had never seen it before.At first I thought it meant something like sad or bland but now I understand that it is actually referring to the  weather.

This word also relates to Helga’s inability to deal with certain situations.Helga for the most part is slightly uncaring or rather shes detached.However when asked about marriage,when a kiss was stolen from her,the heat from the dance floor filled with all kinds of black folk twisting about in a “jungle animal” manner Helga just cannot handle it.All of this stems from her childhood. She cannot accept all that comes with being colored because she was so hated by her own family since she had colored blood. Early childhood researchers tell us that parents and life at home are instrumental to shaping an individual,its clear that her childhood implanted in her hatred for who she was.

Discussing Quicksand

In class on Monday, we discussed chapters 3 and 4 in Quicksand in depth but didn’t devote as much time to chapters 5, 6, and 7. For Wednesday, you are reading chapters 8-12. To drive our discussion forward, please find a passage we haven’t yet discussed from chapters 5-12 that stood out to you, quote it, and write about it–such as what stands out, what you want to understand better, how it connects to another passage in the novel or in something else we’ve read or that you’ve read, how specific details in the passage add to the general understanding of the passage, or anything else that you want to address. You can write this as a short comment (quotation plus 100-150 words), and comment back to another classmate’s passage as well. We’ll generate a great collection of passages to look at further.

 

A Rose for Emily From Emily’s Point of View.

Part 1:

When my father died, all he left me was his house. What was once an elegant estate in one of the best neighborhoods of Jefferson had now become a decaying building standing in a neighborhood taken over by cotton wagons and gasoline pumps. As a Grierson, I was part of nobility and expected to live a life of luxury. Instead, I ended up feeling betrayed by my father into living a life of poverty with no one to look after me but myself and my negro. A while after my father had died, some of the townspeople began demanding that I pay taxes. This was a preposterous demand as I was remitted of paying any taxes due to the fact that my father had loaned a great amount of money to the town and they are still unable to pay it back. At first they wrote me a few letters requesting me to pay the taxes, however i ignored their nonsensical claims and simply mailed them back. One day, they had the nerve to come into my home and ask me to pay taxes. I was enraged and told them to speak to Colonel Sartoris. I never heard from them again.

A year or so after the death of my father, the town had decided to pave the sidewalks. They had signed a contract with the company who had arrived to begin their work in the summer. The man who came from the company was named Homer Barron. He was a northerner. Tall, dark, and with a demanding voice. He became acquainted with everyone in town in a fairly short amount of time. He was able to make everyone laugh and was the only person who had managed to grow close to me after the death of my father. We began going on drives in his yellow-wheeled buggy on Sunday afternoon.

The townspeople thought i was not aware of what they were saying about me and Homer Barron, but I was completely aware. I just did not take heed to what they were saying as they were of lower status than me, as I was a Grierson. After some time had passed, some of my kin from Alabama had come over and demanded I get married to Homer Barron, as what I was doing with him was a bad example to the townspeople. I did not attend on marrying him as he was a northerner and a Grierson would not marry a northerner. However, I still decided to go along with it so as not to raise any suspicions on what I was about to do. I pretended to be planning for the wedding. I had been to the jeweler’s and ordered a man’s toilet set in silver , with the letters H.B. on each piece. I also bought a complete outfit of men’s clothing, including a nightshirt.

One day I decided the only way to get out of the marriage would be to kill Homer. I found my way to the druggist and asked him to give me the best poison he had. After much persuasion, he finally had the arsenic delivered to my home. That day, I had put some arsenic into his food. He went to sleep that night and never woke up again. Since that day I had never left the house for fear of someone discovering the body. I did not care to move it or bury it and it remained in the bed in the same position for years to come. At one point his body had decayed into the bed and it was impossible to move. I decided to keep him there and did not let anyone visit my home. When the neighbors began complaining of the smell I took no notice. After my death, I knew that they would soon discover the source of the smell.

Part 2:

“A Rose for Emily,” is originally written in the first person point-of-view from the perspective of either the residents of the town as a whole or a specific resident of the town. The thoughts of the people of the town are clear as well as some of their emotions. It is very clear to see the conflict from everyones perspective except for Emily. This is the reason i chose to write it in Emily’s point of view.

The story is set in a southern town which seems to follow traditional values. Many of the things that Emily and her family does seems to go against these values, and due to this, many of the townspeople dislike her. They not only dislike her due to this but it seems as if they are jealous of her former high standing in society. Telling the story from Emily’s point-of view will give the audience a different perspective into the story. Instead of having a biased version of Emily being portrayed to the audience, they will have direct access to the thoughts and emotions of Emily Grierson.

The woman in the yellow wallpaper.

rittny Roberts

English 2001

Project one

One night when the moon light came through the window, Jane thought she saw the wallpaper  move. The faint figure behind seemed to shake the pattern, just as if she wanted to get out. She got up softly and went to feel and see if the paper did move, and when she came back John was awake.“What is it, little girl?” he said. “Don’t go walking about like that—you’ll get cold.”” She woke john by accident but thought it was a good time to talk. She told him she wanted to leave, he said no because there wasn’t any good reason. He thought it would be better if they stayed because she was getting better. She said “Better in body perhaps”—I began, and stopped short, for he sat up straight and looked at me with such a stern, reproachful look that I could not say another word.” He told her not to think or speak in that way and that she was being foolish. They only had 3 more weeks in the house and there was no reason to leave early. She didn’t say another word.

For the rest of her time there she focused on the strange paper. At first the paper just seemed strange and shapeless but soon enough it started to take form. “I didn’t realize for a long time what the thing was that showed behind,—that dim sub-pattern,—but now I am quite sure it is a woman.”. What she saw behind that paper was herself, a version of herself that was free. Charlotte reflected the parts of Jane she wouldn’t show to others. Charlotte creep by day and hide in the shadows whenever someone passed by. Jane would never creep by daylight, she taught it was humiliating. When Jane creep at daylight she would lock the door so john wouldn’t suspect something. They seemed like parallels.  

As the days came to an end Jane wanted to tear that horrid paper from the walls, she wanted to free the woman trapped behind, she wanted to free herself  “As soon as it was moonlight, and that poor thing began to crawl and shake the pattern, I got up and ran to help her. I pulled and she shook, I shook and she pulled, and before morning we had peeled off yards of that paper.” Tearing down that paper, setting her free, to Jane that was a form of rebellion to her husband. Jane was in fact sick physically but her husband caused her health to deplenish mentally as well. By tearing down the wallpaper she could now show him what he created “I don’t want to go out, and I don’t want to have anybody come in, till John comes. I want to astonish him.”. She kept tearing down the paper until john came banging on the door. She had locked the door and throw the key out the window, so she told him where he could find it. John went down and got the keys to unlock the door. He was worried for his wife, as he unlocked the door and entered the room he saw his wife tearing the yellow wallpaper from the walls. Charlotte saw john enter the room and kept on creeping as she was before. I kept on creeping just the same, but I looked at him over my shoulder. “I’ve got out at last,” said I, “in spite of you and Jane! And I’ve pulled off most of the paper, so you can’t put me back!’. From seeing thing john fainted but charlotte kept creepy over him trying to remove the rest of the paper.

 

Brittny Roberts

English 2001

Part 2 of Project 1

  The Yellow Wallpaper  was written in first person but will be retold with a third person limited narrator to give the reader a different point of view. The yellow wallpaper takes place in an old mansion, the narrator is ill and stays in a room that has old yellow paper on the wall. The story focuses on her writing down what happens in the house during the summer. She speaks about her husband and her health but her focus is on her fixation with the wallpaper in the room she stays in. In my retelling of the story I try to focus more on her fixation with the wallpaper and how she later on starts identify with it.

The narrator from the original story was given a name. I gave her a name for two main reasons. First I wanted the story to be easier to follow, most things in the original story is vague and can be confusing. The second reason I gave her a name was to help show the point in time where Jane(the original narrator) and the woman in the wallpaper were the  two different people, when they become the same and when one took over the other.

I originally wanted to have a 3rd person omniscient narrator  but I found myself only focusing on Jane and charlotte, I consider the two be the same person so I decided to change it to 3rd person limited. In both stories it shows Jane and charlotte becoming one. “I don’t like to look out of the windows even—there are so many of those creeping women, and they creep so fast. I wonder if they all come out of that wallpaper as I did?” in this quote from the original story you can see how it seems like there is two different personalities. Jane is responsible for the first sentence while charlotte is for the second sentence.  “What she saw behind that paper was herself, a version of herself that was free. Charlotte reflected the parts of Jane she wouldn’t show to others.”, this is a sentence from my version on the story shows clearly that jane and charlotte are the same.

In the yellow wallpaper things that are stated are indirect and vague which leaves the reader wondering, for example in the original story it wasn’t clear that John had caused his wife to go insane. While in the retelling I was straight to the point,it was clear that Jane had created Charlotte but they were still the same person. This changes the way the reader imagines and understands the story.

 

Helga Crane leaving Naxos

What do we know about Helga Crane? About her surrounding environment and the people who populate it?

  • Dr. Anderson: the school’s new principal: she likes him; she doesn’t like him; he thinks she has good breeding and she reacts badly to this. He has grey eyes. (does this mean he is biracial as well?)

Are we sympathetic to Helga or angered by her? Can we relate to her?

  • her moods change so frequently
  • feels like an outsider, can’t connect
  • never satisfied–there’s excitement in her wanting something
  • lack of family support may be different than our experience

think about time: analepsis (flashback) and prolepsis (flash forward)

think about repetition: what gets repeated must be important somehow

Think about:

train scene (ch 4)

arriving in Chicago (ch 5)

looking for work (ch 6)

treats herself even though she’s low on cash, denies herself food

Mrs. Hayes-Rore (ch 7)

A Rose for Emily from Tobe’s perspective

Part 1: Retelling

1

Miss Emily has been so ill up till now. Not sick in the body, but sick in the soul. Ever since Mr. Grierson died she’s been having difficulties. First, she almost seemed like she was in denial about his death, not allowing anyone in to remove his body, parading around for people, acting as though she wasn’t hurting. She did give in, eventually, but it took so long! I worry for her. She asked me to cut her hair. I didn’t want to, a woman her age ought to have at least shoulder length hair, but she made me cut it down to just about her ears. She looks younger, not how a lady her age should look.

Still, she’s at least socializing again, going out and about. There’s a new man in town, from up north. He’s a foreman for the company doing some civic construction in town, something or other Barron. I’m not sure how much I like the fella, but Miss Emily has taken a liking to him. He’s loud, and rude, and loves to be the center of attention, just like the yankee he is. He comes around most weekends and takes her for rides in the buggy, and then comes in here and order me around like I’m one of his workers! I wish one of us would leave so I’d never have to see him again.

 

2

Miss Emily and Homer have been consorting for over a year now. No one approves, and I think they know. Some of the Cousins Grierson have come to try to dissuade Emily from associating with Homer, which is for the best. He stays out late with the other men, drinking and doing Lord knows what. As they say, “He’s not the marrying kind.” She should be focused on a suitor more appropriate, someone from town, perhaps.

Not even the local minister approved, seeing as he came around to try to talk to her about it. At least, I believe he wanted to talk about that. All I really heard after l let him in were some raised voices on Emily’s part. He left shortly after, and she was not dissuaded at all since she’s still riding with Homer on the weekends and has even recently purchased a handful of presents for him, things that indicate a more intimate relationship than what they’ve shown so far. I believe she is planning something for him soon, a grand gesture. Whatever is to come, I hope it comes without her kin here. They are so difficult, bless their hearts!

 

3

Lord forgive us! We have committed the greatest sin! For weeks now, the Cousins Grierson have been haunting the halls in this house, whispering terrible things to Miss Emily, telling her that she’s throwing dirt upon the Family Name for being involved with a northerner, an “enemy”. I thought she was just letting their words roll off her back like water, but she had been listening the whole time! She’d just taken the words in her self, bottled them up and let the shame ferment. Her own blood had poisoned her, and then quickly fled!

When they had left, Miss Emily pulled me aside and explained all this. She kept going, telling me she loved Mr Barron, she wanted to spend forever with him, couldn’t handle him being with another woman, all of this. Then she told me her family and the people in town would never allow them to be together, which I already knew, but she even went so far as to admit her guilt about it all. She would not allow herself to be with him, no matter how much love she felt for him! So she continues, telling me of the arsenic she bought from the chemist and how she plans for me to use it in his food when he returns! God have mercy on me, I didn’t argue with her. I hate that man, and it would make her so happy! She’s all I worry about now.

Homer Barron came for supper and a chat the next evening. I had a stew on the cooker for the whole day, and fresh made rice. Emily and the man sat at the table, talking quietly and intensely, sipping on sherry. The arsenic came in a small brown bottle and in the form of round pellets. The instructions said to mix with water and pour onto the bait, so I just poured some into Homer’s stew bowl and served them both, careful not to mix up whose is whose. I then sat down in the kitchen, eating my own supper while listening to their conversation. Listening as Miss Emily cried and Homer became more and more tired in his responses. He didn’t understand what she was saying by the end. After a time, he asked to lay down until he felt better and his headache was gone. As I helped him carry himself up the stairs to the guest bedroom, he spilled blood from his mouth and it made the steps slick beneath our feet.

Well, I got him up into the bed and laid him down. Miss Emily asked me to leave the room and I heard her beginning to sob on my way out. Now I’m just sitting on my own bed coming to terms with what we’ve done. We killed that man! If any of the people here in town found out, Miss Emily would be locked away and I would be killed! Lord forgive me, no one can ever know.

 

Part 2: Examination

For my retelling I chose A Rose for Emily, but from the perspective of Tobe during the time leading up to Homer Barrons murder and directly after it. Instead of being a stream of consciousness type of first person narration, I chose to do it as more of a journal style. While A Rose for Emily is written in a first-person point of view from a character who was not involved in the events of the story and is therefore somewhat unreliable, and portrayed Emily as a near invincible character, my retelling is a first-person point of view from a first-hand perspective, and shows Emily as a more vulnerable, human character while in her own home.

One of the more prominent themes of A Rose for Emily is gossip. The whole story is told through a second hand recounting of the events, with townspeople constantly remarking about Emily and her family. They talk of her great-aunt and how she went crazy, and they talk about how the Grierson family, whether they are “like a tableau” or how little was left to Emily after her father passed.

“That was when people had begun to feel really sorry for her. People in our town, remembering how old lady Wyatt, her great-aunt, had gone completely crazy at last, believed that the Griersons held themselves a little too high for what they really were. None of the young men were quite good enough for Miss Emily and such. We had long thought of them as a tableau, Miss Emily a slender figure in white in the background, her father a spraddled silhouette in the foreground, his back to her and clutching a horsewhip, the two of them framed by the back-flung front door. So when she got to be thirty and was still single, we were not pleased exactly, but vindicated; even with insanity in the family she wouldn’t have turned down all of her chances if they had really materialized.”

In my retelling things are more intimate, told through the eyes of Tobe who witnessed everything that happened in the house. He sees things about Emily that others would not know, and his comments are based on that, like how fragile Emily really is.
“Miss Emily has been so ill up till now. Not sick in the body, but sick in the soul. Ever since Mr. Grierson died she’s been having difficulties. First, she almost seemed like she was in denial about his death, not allowing anyone in to remove his body, parading around for people, acting as though she wasn’t hurting. She did give in, eventually, but it took so long!”

The next difference between the original story and my limited retelling is how the people in each version perceive Emily. In the original version, peoples views of Emily are pretty much split down the middle, with some people thinking of her as southern nobility and others thinking she’s no better than them. Another thing people are split on is her relationship with Homer Barron. Some people were supportive, saying she deserved to be happy, while others were disapproving.

“At first we were glad that Miss Emily would have an interest, because the ladies all said, “Of course a Grierson would not think seriously of a Northerner, a day laborer.” But there were still others, older people, who said that even grief could not cause a real lady to forget noblesse oblige—without calling it noblesse oblige.”

In my retelling, Tobe has a much more mixed view of Emily. He’s disapproving of Homer for a few reasons, but he also wants Emily to be happy and he does anything to make sure she is. He also thinks she’s a great, incredible woman while still being aware of her shortcomings and weaknesses.

“I worry for her. She asked me to cut her hair. I didn’t want to, a woman her age ought to have at least shoulder length hair, but she made me cut it down to just about her ears. She looks younger, not how a lady her age should look.”

The biggest difference between the two versions is the role of Tobe in the stories. The original version barely makes any use of him, really only mentioning him in reference to the house they live in. He’s mentioned as letting people in to the house, being blamed for the stench surrounding the house after Homer is killed, and as doing the shopping for the house. He never speaks or shares his thoughts, and is only ever spoken to by Emily.

“And so she died. Fell ill in the house filled with dust and shadows, with only a doddering Negro man to wait on her. We did not even know she was sick; we had long since given up trying to get any information from the Negro. He talked to no one, probably not even to her, for his voice had grown harsh and rusty, as if from disuse.”

In my version Tobe is the narrator, so everything is from his perspective. I explore how he might possibly feel about Homer Barron, what he thinks about Emily, and his involvement in Emily’s crime. I go into detail about the murder, how Tobe was actually the one to poison him and how he assisted Emily in getting Homer into the bed, since she would not have been strong enough to do it on her own. This is a huge departure from the original version in which he is little more than a background character.

“I had a stew on the cooker for the whole day, and fresh made rice. Emily and the man sat at the table, talking quietly and intensely, sipping on sherry. The arsenic came in a small brown bottle and in the form of round pellets. The instructions said to mix with water and pour onto the bait, so I just poured some into Homer’s stew bowl and served them both, careful not to mix up whose is whose. I then sat down in the kitchen, eating my own supper while listening to their conversation. Listening as Miss Emily cried and Homer became more and more tired in his responses. He didn’t understand what she was saying by the end. After a time, he asked to lay down until he felt better and his headache was gone. As I helped him carry himself up the stairs to the guest bedroom, he spilled blood from his mouth and it made the steps slick beneath our feet.”

All in all, both versions are light on details surrounding what actually happened to Homer Barron and why he was killed, as well as his relationship with Emily, but my retelling provides a bit more context from Tobe’s point of view in the story. I felt that Tobe was an overlooked character who no one paid much attention to in the original, and I think my retelling also explains some of his behavior throughout the story, like him refusing to speak to townspeople and running away once Emily had died.

A Jury of Her Peers

Charles Tripoli                                                                                                            3/19/18

Part 1

A Jury of Her Peers

One day waiting around my hose for the sheriff to arrive, we had some business to attend to. I sat in the living room wile my wife worked in the kitchen when the team from town stopped to get me, the sheriff came running in to say his wife wished she would come too–adding, with a grin, that he guessed she was getting scary and wanted another woman along. So she had dropped everything right where it was.

“Martha!” I said “Don’t keep folks waiting out here in the cold.”

She again opened the storm-door, and us waiting for her in the big two-seated buggy.

We spent the ride not really talking about much we had gone up a little hill and could see the Wright place now. It looked very lonesome this cold March morning. It had always been a lonesome-looking place. It was down in a hollow, and the poplar trees around it were lonesome-looking trees. we were looking at it and talking about what had happened. The county attorney was bending to one side of the buggy, and kept looking steadily at the place as they drew up to it.

Once we got inside we went over to the stove. The women stood close together by the door. Young Henderson, the county attorney, turned around and said, “Come up to the fire, ladies.”

Mrs. Peters took a step forward, then stopped. “I’m not–cold,” she said. And so the two women stood by the door, at first not even so much as looking around the kitchen.

We talked for a minute about what a good thing it was the sheriff had sent his deputy out that morning to make a fire for them, and then Sheriff Peters stepped back from the stove, unbuttoned his outer coat, and leaned his hands on the kitchen table in a way that seemed to mark the beginning of official business. “Now, Mr. Hale,” he said in a sort of semiofficial voice, “before we move things about, you tell Mr. Henderson just what it was you saw when you came here yesterday morning.”

The county attorney was looking around the kitchen. “By the way,” he said, “has anything been moved?” He turned to the sheriff.

“Are things just as you left them yesterday?” Peters looked from cupboard to sink; from that to a small worn rocker a little to one side of the kitchen table.

“It’s just the same.” I said

“Somebody should have been left here yesterday,” said the county attorney.

“Oh–yesterday,” returned the sheriff, with a little gesture as of yesterday having been more than he could bear to think of. “When I had to send Frank to Morris Center for that man who went crazy–let me tell you. I had my hands full yesterday. I knew you could get back from Omaha by today, George, and as long as I went over everything here myself–”

“Well, Mr. Hale,” said the county attorney, in a way of letting what was past and gone go, “tell just what happened when you came here yesterday morning.”

“Yes, Mr. Hale?” the county attorney reminded.

“Harry and I had started to town with a load of potatoes,” I started “We come along this road,” I continued, with a motion of my hand to the road over which we had just come, “and as we got in sight of the house I says to Harry, ‘I’m goin’ to see if I can’t get John Wright to take a telephone.’ You see,” I explained to Henderson, “unless I can get somebody to go in with me they won’t come out this branch road except for a price I can’t pay. I’d spoke to Wright about it once before; but he put me off, saying folks talked too much anyway, and all he asked was peace and quiet– guess you know about how much he talked himself. But I thought maybe if I went to the house and talked about it before his wife, and said all the women-folks liked the telephones, and that in this lonesome stretch of road it would be a good thing–well, I said to Harry that that was what I was going to say–though I said at the same time that I didn’t know as what his wife wanted made much difference to John–”

“Let’s talk about that a little later, Mr. Hale. I do want to talk about that but, I’m anxious now to get along to just what happened when you got here.”

When I began this time, it was very deliberately and carefully: “I didn’t see or hear anything. I knocked at the door. And still it was all quiet inside. I knew they must be up–it was past eight o’clock. So I knocked again, louder, and I thought I heard somebody say, ‘Come in.’ I wasn’t sure–I’m not sure yet. But I opened the door– this door,” jerking a hand toward the door by which the two women stood. “And there, in that rocker”– pointing to it–“sat Mrs. Wright.”

Everyone in the kitchen looked at the rocker.

“How did she–look?” the county attorney was inquiring.

“Well,” I said, “she looked–queer.”

“How do you mean–queer?” As he asked it he took out a note-book and pencil.

My wife kept her eye fixed on me, as if to keep me from saying unnecessary things that would go into that note-book and make trouble.

I spoke guardedly, I didn’t like the pencil

We continued talking about this for a bit and we finely made our way upstairs to the scene there we saw the chalk outline of Mr. Wright and the rope used to kill him.

Everything was just the same as yesterday. We talked some more about what had happen when I got up here to see if he was alright.

And how when I asked Mrs. Wright what happened, how she didn’t know anything.

How someone slipped the rope around his neck and killed him.

I didn’t like being here, not just this room but this whole house, it’s a very dreary place.

When we finally returned to the kitchen the women looked a little shaken but its probably just this house

We had all the clues and evidence we needed but we just couldn’t find the motive

Charles Tripoli                                                                                                                     3/19

 

Part 2

 

There are a few differences in the 2 versions of this story. I changed the story for a 3rd person selective POV to a 1st person POV. I also changed who the story is fallowing form the women to the men using Mr. Hale as the character and narrator.

 

The biggest change this caused was the length of the story. We lost a large part of the story when the women talk about Mrs. Wright and who she was both before and after she got married. My story cut that out and focused more on the actual evidence talked about in the original. Because of this the story went form a longer story to just a 2 page story. That was something I wanted to make evident in my story. The men are focused on the crime itself they’re not really paying attention to little things like the bird cage.

 

I also changed what is actually said. Example I cut a lot of the beginning conversation in the kitchen that didn’t have to do with Mr. Hale directly for I felt that he wouldn’t necessarily pay too much attention to the women talk and give their opinions.

 

Another big change was the fact that without the women POV we lost the motive behind Mrs. Wright killing her husband. We only learned that when the men went upstairs in the origanl story when Mrs. Hale looked at the birdcage. Without that passage we were left with the same question the men had, “Why would Mrs. Wright kill him?” we didn’t have an answer because the people we were fallowing didn’t. All they had was the evidence found at the scene, and Mr. Hale’s testimony

 

In conclusion the way I wrote this story greatly impacted the progress of the investigation for the reader. Between the story being shorter, less detailed, and never finding a satisfying end it will make readers want to read the original to see what they missed out on .

Jorge Lopez – Anthology Project

Jorge Lopez

Professor Rosen

English 2001

22 March 2018

Part 1: Retelling

There Was Once

 

“There was once a poor girl, as beautiful as she was good, who lived with her wicked stepmother in a house in the forest.”

“Oh good choice on setting it in a forest, but talk about the forest, like what about it?”

“You mean like describe it?”

“Yeah, details.”

“There was once a poor girl, as beautiful as she was good, who lived with her wicked stepmother in a house in a large forest where the only other sounds were scurrying squirrels and screeching jays.”

“Good but there’s something missing…oh talk about what made them poor”

“Like their lifestyle?”

“Yeah that could work”

“There was once a poor girl, as beautiful as she was good, who lived with her wicked stepmother in a old and rugged house, with broken windows and old creaking floors, poorly lit rooms and barely any furniture to work with, deep within a large forest where the only other sounds were scurrying squirrels and screeching jays.”

“Ohhh I could almost imagine it, you know what’s missing though?”

“What’s that?”

“A description of the girl that’s what, can’t just say she’s beautiful and leave it at that.”

“I guess you’re right.”

“I know i’m right, now get to it!”

“There was once a poor girl, as beautiful as she was good, with her long blonde hair and dreamy blue eyes and having a smile that would light the room, sadly lived with her wicked stepmother in a old rugged house, with broken windows and old creaking floors, poorly lit rooms and barely any furniture to work with, deep within  a large forest where the only other sounds were scurrying squirrels and screeching jays.”

“This is coming along nicely! Keep going though, think outside the box, what haven’t we added yet that we could?”

“Hmmm, maybe we could talk about her background?”

“Yeah yeah I like that idea!”

“There was once a poor white girl, who grew up sheltered from the rest of the world, not knowing much beyond what she’s seen, and as beautiful as she was good, with her long blonde hair and dreamy blue eyes, having a smile that would light the room, sadly she lived with her wicked stepmother in a old rugged house, with broken windows and creaking floors, poorly lit rooms and barely any furniture to work with, deep within  a large forest where the only other sounds were scurrying squirrels and screeching jays.”

“Wow it’s like i’m right there, you’re doing a nice job describing it but I feel that you can use stronger words.”

“How so?”

“Like for example, when you talk about the stepmother you use wicked.”

“And? What’s wrong with that.”

“Nothing I just think you can take a different approach when mentioning the stepmother.”

“Alright i’ll give it a shot…There was once a poor white girl, who grew up sheltered from the rest of the world, not knowing much beyond what she’s seen, and as beautiful as she was good, with her long blonde hair and dreamy blue eyes, having a smile that would light the room, sadly she lived in an old rugged house with her stepmother who was cold and heartless because she herself had been abused in her childhood, this home, this poor broken down home, with broken windows and creaking floors, poorly lit rooms and barely any furniture to work with, resided deep within a large forest where the only other sounds were scurrying squirrels and screeching jays.”

“This is great! Nice job!”

“You like it?”

“Like? I love it!”

“Well I couldn’t have done it without you, you’ve been a big help, thank you so much!”

“No problem! It’s the least I can do for you.”

Part 2: Thinking about retelling

There Was Once

The story “There Was Once” by Margaret Atwood is a story that revolves around a conflict between the person telling the story and the person listening to it. This conflict is due to the listener consistently criticizing and suggesting ways to change the story to make it more politically correct, which eventually aggravates the storyteller and they try to resist being told how they should write their own story. My re telling takes a similar approach but instead of the listener suggesting changes that take away from the story, they suggest changes that add to it, making it grow into its original intent.

In my version of the story I made the listener encourage the storyteller, motivating the storyteller to add on to it in different ways to improve it. Pointing out where details were missing and helping with the brainstorming in the creation process. A very different approach of the original where the listener would critique everything the storyteller wrote, patronizing them for their choice of words and format. My approach led to the story flowing in a different direction and actually allowing it to grow whereas in the original version of the story it falls flat with the storyteller ended up with less than what he had to start with. Both stories share similar relationships but revolve around different themes, for mine I aimed on the theme of growth and teamwork. Which again is seen all throughout my version as more is added to the story. In the original it’s more themed around tension and conflict, which can be seen with the listeners attitude towards the storyteller as they share their distaste for how the story was coming along.

In summary both stories share a similar relationship between storyteller and listener where one writes and the other gives feedback, but both take a different approach in how they do it. My version revolves around the listener adding to the story in a positive way by approving the storytellers decisions and encouraging, leading to growth. In the original it’s the opposite where the listener contributes negatively to the story, causing problems between them and the storyteller and eventually causing the story to die.

Change of Narration in “A Rose For Emily”

Project Part 1 -> First Person (Emily’s Perspective) 

   One day, I decided to go to the arsenic and wanted to buy some rat poison. The rule in this town is that whenever someone buys poison, they have to say why they are buying it and for what they are going to use it. Due to the previous dilemmas of my father dying and me not feeling like myself, I Just stared at him without saying a word. He also was looking at me with his big round eyes, but in a few minutes he wrapped up the poison and decided to give it to me. Without any extra words, I left and started to walk down the street.I knew that people around me were all thinking that I bought this poison for myself and that I was going to kill myself. But those fools did not know a single thing. Throughout my whole life everything was chose for me, whether or not something happened depended on my father’s wishes. After my father’s death, the only thing of value that I have left is my family title. A family title that is honored throughout the town and no one dares to go against me.

   Before I never had a choice to choose on who to love or who to care for, but for some reason Homer Barron’ really stuck to me and now I feel like I need to keep him forever. This poison that is in my hands will make sure to keep him next to me until my death. This time, no one will choose for me or make decisions without my acknowledgement. This is something that I purely settled on myself. That same night I decided to invite Homer over, and while he was occupied I put some droplets for the poison in his glass. In a few minutes he started to feel unwell. At that time he was talking about how we can leave this old town and move to somewhere quite. We would have a happy family and a house. My eyes met his and I started feeling this emotion of regret. Maybe I should not have done this, maybe I should also drink this poison, to join him in the afterlife. Right as I thought that, Homer fell to the ground and ceased breathing. I brought him upstairs and put him on the bed. This was the best time to do this because, the word spread that he was leaving town. So nothing would be suspicious at all.I stopped letting people into my home, unless it was the servant who brought the food for me. Each morning and night I laid next to his body and treated him like a living person. Years went by and time came for me to also lie down next to him. Whenever the town find out that I have died, they will probably break through all the doors and  find Homer stuck to the bed after all these years. Whatever they will think about me won’t matter anymore, I was finally able to do something for myself without and third party helping me or forcing me. I guess you can say that our love was eternal.

Project Part 2-> Reasoning for changing perspective

Throughout the story of “A Rose for Emily” the narrator that is telling the story is not the protagonist but someone from the town or one of Emily’s servants. Due to this, the narrator cannot be too trustworthy because they are telling the story from their perspective and from what the think happens/happened. This is exactly why i chose to write a part of the story as a homodiegetic narrator. In other the narrator that takes part in the story itself. One of the biggest changes with using the narrator as the protagonist is that the ending and the start of the story can vary. In the original story Emily dies and then we get to imagine and see through the eyes of the town like we did throughout  the whole story what they found in her house. But with the part that i rewrote, the story cuts off after Emily’s death. I could have added like an imaginative ending, of how she tells us about what happened after her death, but that would seem highly absurd. Changing the perspective from the town to Emily, we are able to see and experience the story in more detail and a bit differently.

As stated before, most of the information we learn about Emily and her family are from the town folk or maybe even the servants that took care of Emily after her father’s death. Everything we hear are just speculations and opinions from others. For example when Emily buys the rat poison, the narrator says this “So the next day we all said,She will kill herself”. This opinion was plausible but incorrect. When I rewrote the story through Emily’s point of view, I made sure to import this part and show that no one actually knew anything about her plans and her feelings. They didn’t even have a clue that she will use the poison on Homer Barron. When looking through the Emily’s eyes, we get to actually feel this sense of lost hope and desperation. After her father’s death, she could not accept it for couple of weeks. Losing someone that you knew your whole life can have a huge toll on your body, mentally and physically. Even though she also felt some relief of losing the person who was controlling her life, she still felt some emotions of depression. When we are told the story, we are barely shown this side of her, everyone thinks that things will get better, she will get married and move on. Sadly something was different about her and no one was able to figure out what.

With the protagonist being the narrator, we can see most of the thoughts and ideas that come to her head. So we are not just sitting there wondering what would happen. We are actually also involved in the poisoning plot and know why she is buying the poison. This quote from the original story; “ the women mostly out of curiosity to see the inside of her house, which no one save an old man-servant – a combined gardener and cook – had seen in at least ten years”, left us with a huge gap. On the other hand it does drag us deeper into the mysterious plot without knowing all the details, but nothing is better than experiencing the story “first-hand” .

Going back to the different endings that I mentioned; there are tons of ways to end the story differently and uniquely. In this case because I chose to write the narration as the protagonist Emily, it changed the way I can end the story. Instead of seeing the full aftermath, we get cut-off after her death. We don’t really learn too much on what happens afterwards. By losing this ending, we gain mostly all of the thoughts of Emily. We can see clearly the plans that she has in stored, and the motives behind her actions. We don’t have to be guessing like the towns people on what will she do next. Then again while we gain all of that, we lose the suspense. So it all depends on how the reader would prefer for the story to be written or portrayed. Whether they want to all the facts to be kept hidden from them or be involved in the story and see everything through the eyes of the main protagonist.

The stories might vary with their endings and whether or not there is suspense, but in the end everyone gets the general idea on what the story is about and witness the acts that Emily commits. Once again it all depends on the reader, I prefer to actually be involved in the story fully, and be part of Emily’s train of thought. Also, while we imagine the story from the towns perspective, we get all the information from what they think and their opinions(somewhat bias). If the story would have been told as I portrayed it, then our experiences would have been a bit different.