Daily Archives: May 13, 2013

Part 2 of Essay #2

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Beloved in Wordle

“The Choice”

This is not a drawing or video, it is simply just words. But to me I feel that these words speak louder. The passage I chose explains when Sethe is talking about how she first tried to escape Sweet Home with her children. I used the site wordle.net to create this image in order for viewers to get a sense of how the passage I chose may look differently. I inserted the passage and then tried to find the right type of style that would make the words in the passage stand out to the viewer. I wanted to show ordinary text from a passage to be looked at differently. There were certain words to me that stood out when I read the passage and I wanted the viewer to see that as well with this image. The words that stood out the most in this image are “go” “maybe” and “case”. You can see how they are the only words that are vertical and a different color than the rest. Although they are just simply three words, to me I want the viewer to see them differently. Sethe maybe should have heeded the woman  or should go back to Sweet Home in case of Halle coming back. You can see how that these three simply words in a normal passage are now highlighted to give you a different perspective of the image.

Beloved Drawing

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P.S. I’m not an artist.

 

Bel0ved:

The Moment Sethe met Amy Denver

This moment is a very significant moment in the story. It is up to this point when the story can turn in two different directions. In one scenario Sethe after being spotted by Amy Denver, Amy can run back into the town and talk to cops or anyone she sees and notify them of what she seen. Once doing that Sethe can try to run more but won’t be make it too far because of her injured and due to the lack of water and food really gave her no energy to  continue.  She might either die or eventually get caught and taken back to where she escaped from. In the second scenario Amy Denver actually helps out Sethe and care of her. In the story she actually does help Sethe. She cares for her in a barn she found and helps her delivery Sethe’s baby who is actually named after Sethe.

What Is True Love?

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What Is True Love?

Anwar Uddin

 As a sister I can do so much, I tried and tried thus I failed to aid my sister during her sorrows. She was troubled with cardiovascular disease so I tried giving her hints and description of what might have happened, slowly trying to reveal the whole outcome of the tragedy but all attempts failed. My sister’s husband’s friend, Richard had learned about a railroad disaster when he was in the newspaper office and saw Louise’s husband, Brently, on the list of those killed. As I slowly told my sister about Brentley’s death, I can see all the emotions building up in Louise and her eyes gradually turning red and slowly the first drop of tears ran across her cheeks and down her neck. I felt pain and grief run through my body as I told her about the incident it was a painful ache that’s unexplainable. As I tried leaning forward to grab her, Louise ran down the living room and up the stairs not stopping at once as she skipped through two stairs at a time. I followed behind her as she slammed the door in front of me all I can hear at this point is an ache that ran down my ears from the wooden door that Louise had slammed shut. So many things ran across my mind I thought I was going to lose my sister also, as I heard the windows crack open on the other side of this dense wooden door. There was a little opening under the wooden door and I felt a slight puff of air hit my toes. So I knew for sure Louise had opened the window. As I put my ears against the door to listen to what Louise was doing behind door, I heard a little whisper saying “free body and soul free!” then I yelled out “Louise, open the door! I beg; open the door you will make yourself ill. What are you doing, Louise? For heavens sake open the door.” I kept banging on the door and I felt flood flow into my arms as I started banging harder and harder slowly my hands started turning red.”Go away. I am not making myself ill.” My sister answered. I felt helpless, here my sister was going through a tough time and all I could do is watch and listen. After waiting and waiting I didn’t know what to do anymore and unexpectedly the wooden door slowly opened and I was ecstatic to see my sister all right. For some reason I saw triumph in Louise’s eyes I was bewildered it was as If she was free again. I wish I knew what was running through my sister’s mind. But I was delighted to see my sister okay and that’s all that mattered. I held my sister as she clasped her arms around my waist and I slowly held her as we walked down the wooden stairs there was silence and I heard my sister breathing hard and the stairs making crackling noises. At the bottom of the stairs Richard was awaiting our presence. As we finally approached the bottom of the stairs where Richard was standing, someone was trying to open the front door. I heard keys trying to twist and turn trying to open the door and finally the front door had cracked open. It was Brentley Mallard carrying his grip-sack and umbrella, I couldn’t believe it I felt a huge burden lift of my back and all I thought to myself was “how?” I was truly pleased to see Brentley safe. I burst out with laugher and cry. Richard had tried unsuccessfully to block Louise from seeing him. My sister Louise had passed away from heart disease, I was speechless nothing can overcome what I have been through all the sorrow and pain.

 

 

In the original story, “The Story of an hour” by Kate Chopin the author narrates the story using third person limited narration. We are guided towards the mind of Louise Mallard and we come to learn about Louise’s outlook and emotions about her husband Brently Mallards death when a railroad disaster takes place. Louise’s Mallard’s sister Josephine is trying very hard to cope with the situation and she’s slowly trying to explain to Louise’s about the incident that occurred with Brently. Therefore in my narration of “The story of an Hour” I used first person limited narration to take a tour around Josephine’s intuition about her perception and thoughts of the incident which took place with Brently and how she might have actually felt trying to explain to her sister that her husband wont be coming back home.

In my telling of “The Story of an Hour” I used first person narration to describe Josephine’s thoughts and feelings when she had found out about the railroad disaster that had took place and how it might have felt to actually tell someone that your loved one wont be returning back home. I described the story through Josephine’s perspective and how Josephine may have felt. Therefore started my story of with Josephine’s feelings and how she feels helpless and unworthy, “As a sister I can do so much, I tried and tried thus I failed to aid my sister during her sorrows.”This portrays Josephine can only do so much to help her sister through her struggles. Also Josephine’s sister Louise Mallard was troubled with heart disease therefore she didn’t want to go straight to the topic of Brently Mallards passing away instead she used broken sentences and hints to portray Brently’s death. Josephine acknowledged the despair that was building up when she was explaining to Louise about her husband’s death as she states, “I can see all the emotions building up in Louise and her eyes gradually turning red and slowly the first drop of tears ran across her cheeks and down her neck.” Josephine tried to soothe her by giving her a hug but Louise went up to her room alone. She followed Louise back to her room but Louise wouldn’t open the door. Many thoughts were running across Josephine’s head as a sister she wanted the best for Louise as we can see she states, “Louise, open the door! I beg; open the door you will make yourself ill. What are you doing, Louise? For heavens sake open the door.” Louise had cracked open the windows and Josephine knew something was up, she screamed “Louise, open the door! I beg; open the door you will make yourself ill. What are you doing, Louise? For heavens sake open the door.” But Louise wouldn’t budge therefore she answered “Go away. I am not making myself ill.” Josephine didn’t want her sister to feel ill therefore she kept banging on the door eventually Louise had opened the door and she came out. Josephine explains that Louise looked very delighted and happy when she walked out of the room, “For some reason I saw triumph in Louise’s eyes I was bewildered it was as If she was free again.” But to Josephine all that mattered at that point was that her sister was okay. As they grabbed each other and started walking down the stairs Richard was at the bottom of the stairs waiting for them when they reached the bottom of the stairs someone was trying to open the front door and eventually Brently Mallard walked into the house. Josephine couldn’t believe it, Brently was alive she was full of joy. Later on we come to a conclusion that Louise had passed away from heart disease.

In the original story of “The story of an hour” by Kate Chopin, she uses Third person limited narration. In the story there is a short description of Josephine’s reaction when she first hears the incident that occurred with Brently Mallard. Louise Mallard is heart troubled so she is cautiously informed about her husbands passing away. The description tells us that Josephine use’s broken sentences to describe the incident that occurred, as explained in the story “it was her sister Josephine who told her, in broken sentences; veiled hints that revealed in half concealing.” Louise’s husband’s friend Richard, had learned about a railroad disaster that befall when he was in the newspaper office and saw Louise’s husband, Brently, on the listing of those wounded and killed. After Josephine had slowly explained to Louise about Brently’s death Louise slowly started weeping and she runs upstairs to her to room alone. Louise sits down in her room and she looks out an open window. She sees trees, she smells the aroma of approaching rain, and hears someone yelling out what he’s trying to sell. She hears somebody singing as well as the sounds of sparrows, and there are fluffy white clouds in the sky as its stated in the story “She could see in the open square before her house the tops of trees that were all aquiver with the new spring life. The delicious breath of rain was in the air. In the street below a peddler was crying his wares. The notes of a distant song which some one was singing reached her faintly, and countless sparrows were twittering in the eaves.” She feels young with lines around her eyes we come to this conclusion because the author explain “she was young, with a fair, calm face, whose lines bespoke repression and even a certain strength.” Still weeping, she looks into the distance. She feels anxious and tries to hold back the building emotions inside her, but she can’t. She starts continuously repeating the word “Free” to herself over and over again. Her heart begins to beat quickly, and she feels awfully warm. Louise knows she’ll sob again when she see’s her husband corpse. Louise describes Brently’s hand as tender, and that he constantly looked at her tenderly. But when she starts thinking about the years to come, which belong only to her now, and spreads her arms out ecstatically with eagerness, the author explains “she knew that she would weep again when she saw the kind, tender hands folded in death; the face that had never looked save with love upon her, fixed and gray and dead she saw beyond that bitter moment a long procession of years to come that would belong to her absolutely. And she opened and spread her arms out to them in welcome.” Louise will be free on her own without anyone to tell her what to do. She feels as if all men and women oppress one another even if they do it out of affection. Louise often felt love for Brently but she tells herself that none of that matters anymore. She feels happy with her new freedom. Josephine comes to her door and starts knocking, pleading Louise to come out, and telling her that she’ll get sick if she doesn’t. Louise tells Josephine she’ll be fine and for her to go away. Louise thinks about all the days and years to come and how she’ll live a long and healthy life with no stress. Louise eventually opens the door and both sisters start walking down the stairs where Richards is waiting for them at the bottom of the stairs. The front door suddenly opens and Brently Mallard comes in. He wasn’t in the train disaster or even attentive that one had happened. Josephine screams out of delight, and Richards tries to block Louise from seeing him. When the doctors appear they state that Louise died of a heart attack brought on by joy.

In conclusion, the author Kate Chopin describes all the feelings and emotions of how Louise felt when she thought her husband passed away. Kate Chopin used third person limited narration to describe Louise and her thoughts about the whole situation. Louise felt a huge burden lift of her back as she thought her husband passed away. In the story I described I used third person narration with a different character I used Josephine as the character and her described her thoughts and feelings about the whole situation from her point of view.

Overly Affectionate Woman

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Overly Affectionate Woman

Urgyen

The most bewildered occupation I ever had was a housekeeping job at John and Madison’s rented house. John was a physician. He was practical in the extreme, and had no patience with faith. He scoffed openly at any talk of things not to be felt and seen and put down in figures.  Madison was an obedient, imaginative and soft woman with overall affection from her husband. “Jennie,” called John. “You must very well take care of Madison while we live here for three months. She has nervous breakdown I want her to take rest as much as she can”. Madison looked fabulous when we entered the old mansion. She would listen to him in every step he told her to follow; after all he was a physician. Her brother was a physician too.

John looked worried but confident that he could help cure Madison from the nervous breakdown through his medical partition. Being John’s sister, I would try hard to make them happy. I felt that Madison would recover soon from her nervous breakdown since poor John had tried his every possible option.

All for the benefit of Madison’s fast recovery, John brought Madison to this old mansion in order that she could breathe better air and rest as comfortable as she could. There were some legal issues, the mansion was empty for years and John could rent at a cheap rate. The house was three miles away from the village so the place was quite lonely, standing isolated on the far side of the road. It looked calm but not the calmness that any people would want. For the first few weeks, I had difficulty adjusting to the place as most people usually did.

“Jennie, please follow her schedule in case if she gets carried away on her imaginative things.” said John walking hurriedly towards the door. John had scheduled Madison’s prescription for each hour of the day. He let her exercise, drink tonics, journey, catch more fresh air and never let her do any sort of work specially writing which he thought would pressure her mind with more fancy ideas. John said I am supposed to keep watch on Madison if she ever touches any paper.

There were many rooms for maids and guests on the ground floor, but they chose to take the room on the upper floor, the room is big, airy, the whole floor nearly, with windows that look all ways, air and sunshine bountiful. The wallpaper had few scratches; maybe previous landlord’s children must have played around a lot.

John wanted to repaper the wall, but later dropped the idea because they were only going to be here for few months and if he starts, there will be never ending repairs to be done for three months. He said that nothing was worse for a nervous patient than to give a way to such fancies.

She felt uncomfortable whenever I entered the room to clean it. When I caught her several times her face changes to flush like a blending style of chameleon. I could see her hand move swiftly to set aside the book. I always look straight forward to grab the book and advice her that it would be detriment for her health.

During the second month, Madison seems physically better. But her eyes looked tired in the morning whenever I serve the breakfast. I could understand that she had not slept well during the night.

Madison always faced the wall that has scratches on it. It seemed like she always meditates on that wall. She does walk around but mostly she concentrate for much longer time as if her soul has been stuck on that fancy wall. When I enter the room in those first weeks, Madison would describe that there’s something unique about that wall.

Most of the time, John would come very late. During the day Madison would never come out of her room for hours. In those first two months, she was collaborating with us, following the schedule set by her husband. Those provisions really improved her physically but not mentally. She seems abandoned from the present world and kept herself sticking her eyes to that wall much longer than usual.

Near the last week of third month, I was busy cleaning up and putting back things where they belong in the first place. We took things up and down to embellish the room, rearrange the position but now it’s time to move everything back to normal position. Madison would never come out of her room. I noticed in the morning that she had scratched the wall little bit.

Although it’s the last day, I heard John scream at the door. “Open the door, my darling!” Madison had locked herself inside. John could not find the key to get inside the room. I walked up the stairs and let John know that I am available for any help. Madison replied in her gentlest voice. “The key is down by the by the front step, under the plantain leaf” John was very nervous and his body was shaking.

We could hear from outside what was going on inside.  She was peeling off all the papers and tearing down whatever she could reach like a cat scratching the couch. John got frustrated looking for some way to break-in. I found the key and he snatched it from my hand. He nervously put the key into the door’s lock, the door hesitated to open, but with a final shove he got through.

“What is the matter?”   he cried. “For God’s sake. What are you doing?” She was still scratching the wall; she looked at John over her shoulder through disheveled hair. John ultimately fainted on the ground. I wondered what had gone through her mind. She was so soft and yet she absorbed everything inside herself.

 

 

 

Although the original short story’s narrator, Charlotte Perkins Gilman, “The Yellow Wallpaper”, convey the hardship of woman, negligence and unworthy love during 20th century. The protagonist first-person omniscient narrator shows us how she felt when she could not express her feelings that made her fall into much deeper misery in her life.

In my retelling, I used Jennie ‘the sister’ as protagonist and first-person limited narration. The whole theme of the story changes when viewed from another person’s angle and switch to limited narration. Jennie was more in favor of her brother rather understanding a woman’s (sister-in-law) situation.

Gilman narrated the situation of a woman whose husband had loved her as much as she loved him but the way she expressed made the readers felt that she was over powered by her husband in the ways to express her feelings. “The narrator word ‘Then do let us go downstairs, I said, ‘there are such pretty rooms there.’ Then he took me in his arms and called me a blessed little goose, and said he would go down to the cellar, if I wished, and have it whitewashed into the bargain.”  Under my retelling the story, Jennie has seen her brother as an overly affectionate towards his wife. Here “Jennie, please follow her schedule in case if she gets carried away on her imaginative things.” said John walking hurriedly towards the door.”  She felt that her brother’s wife Madison always stresses herself even though her husband take cares of her well enough.

Next in Gilman’s narration, woman was going through lot of imaginative world. She thinks that the rest of the family was trying to bother her yellow wall paper. She thinks that rests are also studying the pattern like her but only she could find the solution. But in my narration, Jennie would describe her as a person who makes herself sick by sticking her eyes to that worthless wallpaper for hours and hours.

In the end, the woman could able to free herself from the bond which was kind of torture to her. “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!” On the other side of narration, Jennie was more worried about her brother who was frustrated and shivering to get inside the door to find out what was going on.

Brainstorming for the final exam

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For the final exam, we are going to draft several questions for a comparative essay. In class on Wednesday, we will narrow this list to 5 possible topics. I will then offer you the choice of one of three of the topics on the final exam, which you will take on Monday, 5/20.

We discussed several interesting connections between Louise Erdrich’s “The Shawl” and Toni Morrison’s Beloved in class today, and between Sherman Alexie’s “What You Pawn I Will Redeem” in our class last week. Please reply here with some suggested topics. Please include a short rationale to help the class understand the topic. We might blend related topics together as we did for the midterm exam.

My Dear Wife

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My Dear Wife

Emmanuel Amoah

It was one sunny afternoon when my wife Missy told me she was sick. I told her there was nothing wrong with her other than temporary nervous depression. I asked her to start packing because I’ve acquired a colonial mansion for our three months vacation. She asked why it had stood for long untenanted and too cheap to rent the place. I laughed it off as I always do whenever she asks any silly question. Then late in the first night when we had moved in, Missy came to me saying; “it was the most beautiful place and makes her think of English places we read about because it is quite alone, standing well back from the road, quite three miles from the village for there are hedges and walls and gates that lock, and lots of separate little houses for the gardeners and people.  She said she had never seen such a large and shady garden, full of box-bordered paths, and lined with long grape-covered arbors with seats under them”.

Missy told me she wants to stay in the room downstairs which has an open piazza with roses all over the window with pretty old-fashioned chintz hangings. I refused her request because there was not enough room for two beds and no near room for me. I told her I had to be closer at night because she was not in the right state to be left alone. I realized she was nervous so I prescribed some medication for her so her condition would not get worse. I also let her know we were there solely on her account and that, she has to have as much rest as possible so she will get better.

We had been at this place for some time and Missy had shown signs of improvement. She was more active than she used to be when we got here and I was quite glad about that. Later that day Jennie, my sister told me she sees Missy look at the wall in a strange way and anytime she enters our room she sees her hands under the pillow. Jennie thinks I should ask Missy if there is anything she’s hiding but I refused. She also said she once saw Missy holding something that looked like a pen. I asked whether she was sure about what she was saying but her response was shaky. Later that night Jennie woke me up telling me she had some concerns about Missy. I asked her to wait until I return from work the next day so we could talk. She insisted it was important but I told her I had to go back to sleep because I had to be at the hospital very early in the morning.

Some days later, whilst having dinner Missy started talking about how much she loved the place again. She said she gets a lovely view of the estate. She also said there was a beautiful shaded lane down that runs down there from the house. She added that, she always fancy to see people walking in the numerous paths and arbors around the place. I asked why she fancied the place that much and warned her that, her imaginative power and habit of story making with her nervous weakness could lead to all manner of excited fancies.

Three weeks for us to leave, Jennie told me once more that, she is concerned about the way Missy acts when she sees her. I told her I appreciate her concerns and ask her not to worry about her. I called Missy and asked how she was faring. She said, “John dear, I feel better but I want to go home”. I pleaded with her that she should be a little patient because they had not finished the repairs in our house. She understood and all was well after that. I had to spend the night outside a day before we leave this place. When I returned the next morning, I found Missy locked out in the room insisting she was not going to open up until I came. I could hear her screaming and talking about tying up the woman when she comes out of the wall so she will not escape. I asked her to open the door but she said she can’t. I pounded on the door and called for an axe. She said in the gentlest voice “John dear, it would be a shame to break down that beautiful door!” the key is down by the front steps, under a plantain leaf” That silenced me for a moment. Then I gently asked her to open the door but she insisted the key was under the leaf so I had to go and see, and I got it of course, and came in. I stopped short by the door. What is the matter? I cried. For God’s sake, what are you doing Missy! She kept creeping and looked at me over my shoulder and said “I’ve got out at last, in spite of you and Jennie. And I’ve pulled off most of the paper, so you can’t put me back!” That was all I heard. I opened my eyes and heard Missy’s brother ask me whether I was ok. He said I fainted when I saw Missy go crazy.

 

 

               The “Yellow Wall Paper” and “My Dear Wife” are stories that talks about the decline in the mental stability of a medical doctor’s wife. The “Yellow Wall Paper” uses autodiegetic narration to show what John’s wife goes through during this period whereas “My Dear wife” uses first person character narration to  show John’s ignorance and denial of what his wife goes through. The type of narration in each of the stories has an effect on the level of detail available to the reader. The narrative of the original story is very detail and overt and makes readers understand what the writer wants to send across quite easily but the retell “My Dear Wife” on the other hand has little detail and most of it is implied and makes it quite difficult to understand what the narrator wants to send across to the naratee.

As mentioned, the main difference in both stories is the level of details. The narrative style makes understanding the “Yellow wallpaper” easier compared to “My Dear Wife”. Using autodiegetic narration in the “Yellow Wall Paper” gives a lot of substance to the story, as it the protagonist telling us what experience she had. It makes the story very believable as all the information is from the original source. For example John’s wife at a point in her narration described what she goes through by writing that “You see I have something more to expect, to look forward to, to watch. I really do eat better, and am more quiet than I was. John is so pleased to see me improve! He laughed a little the other day, and said I seemed to be flourishing in spite of my wall-paper. I turned it off with a laugh. I had no intention of telling him it was BECAUSE of the wall-paper—he would make fun of me. He might even want to take me away. I don’t want to leave now until I have found it out”. This is an all inclusive detail that says a lot about her imaginations and is quite central to understanding the direction the story is going. In other words the quotation has a lot of information on the thoughts and reaction of the most important characters in the story. This kind of detail enables the reader put him or herself into the minds of the characters and as a result will make the message well understood. On the other hand the retell, “My Dear Wife” using John as a narrator does not give much detail about what is going on with his wife, the main character in the story. John in his narration gave very few and quite unreliable details about the very few things he thought might have contributed in what became of his wife at the end. The information in his narration was mostly based on what his sister, Jennie suspected rather than what he had seen or suspected. As John tells us that, “Three weeks for us to leave, Jennie told me once more that, she is concerned about the way Missy acts when she sees her. I told her I appreciate her concerns and ask her not to worry about her”. From reading “My Dear Wife”, this is the kind of detail that was available to the reader. This in other words is not information to enough to understand or know the direction the story was going. From reading the original story and knowing what the story is all about this kind of detail does not help in any way to understand what the story is all about. The information provided in the retell does not say much about what was really going on with John or his wife. It only showed the concerns of Jennie about Missy and does not add much to the substance of the story. It only tells us how dismissive and ignorant John was in terms of what was going on with his wife. The level of details provided in either story as mentioned earlier affected the meaning and understanding of each story. As the original story was very detailed and was quite easy to follow through it but the shallowness of the details of the retell affected how it was understood and showed clearly it lacked what was important to understand a story properly.

Notwithstanding the effect the narrative style had on how the stories were understood; the narrative of both stories gives an idea of signs of mental instability of John’s wife at some point. In the “Yellow Wall Paper”, John’s wife at several points in her narration gave an abnormal description of the wall paper in their room. She wrote in her narration that, “There is one marked peculiarity about this paper; a thing nobody seems to notice but myself, and that is that it changes as the light changes. When the sun shoots in through the east window—I always watch for that first long, straight ray—it changes so quickly that I never can quite believe it. That is why I watch it always. By moonlight—the moon shines in all night when there is a moon—I wouldn’t know it was the same paper”. She wrote this to describe the wall paper in their room. What she was “seeing” or imagining was on the wall paper was a form of illusion in her mind’s eye; something that was a sign of mental instability. These continuous habits of imaginations throughout the story attest to the fact that there was something mentally wrong with her. It is a sign of the fact that her idleness is having a direct impact on the way she thinks and sees things. Similarly, the narrative of “My Dear Wife” also showed signs of insanity by John’s wife. There are points in the retell where her utterances clearly showed that her mental stability was declining. For example it is written in the retell that, “whilst having dinner, Missy started talking about how much she loved the place again. She said she gets a lovely view of the estate. She also said there was a beautiful shaded lane down that runs down there from the house. She added that, she always fancy to see people walking in the numerous paths and arbors around the place. I asked why she fancied the place that much and warned her that, her imaginative power and habit of story making with her nervous weakness could lead to all manner of excited fancies”. The way she talked about the place was kind of weird coupled with John’s objection to her continual description of the place in such a manner showed there was something abnormal going on with her. These attitudes Missy exhibited clearly showed there was something mentally wrong with her. Though John warned her to stop those imagination, he was dismissive of that because he thought it was one of those ‘‘things’’, as he warned her that he habit of story making and imaginations could lead to all manner of excited fantasies. Clearly, it is quite obvious from these details that the mental stability of John’s wife is in serious decline.

Lastly, both the original story the “Yellow Wall Paper” and the retell “My Dear Wife” have clearly shown what became of John’s wife after respecting his judgment as a medical doctor but the narrative style affected the level of details available which in turn affected the measure of the understanding in either story. The original story using the autodiegetic narration showed how John’s wife transitioned in her insanity and the retell on the other hand using a first person character narration showed how ignorant and dismissive John was.

 

Monster

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Monster

Submarine.

Everyone has off days.  Days where we aren’t ourselves.  Your days always recap in your dreams, if not the same, differently, but they seem to always to relate to each other.  I’m having a bad dream.  “Wake up Gregor! Wake up!” I keep repeating it to myself, over and over.  After eternal seconds, I wake, only to wish I didn’t.  Is it just a chain of nightmares?  Is my mind playing games with me?  I think to myself, “I need glasses,” and, “I may be under the weather.”  But after a few seconds and minutes pass by, the only words repeating again are, “wake up.”

Click.  Click.  Click.  My skin is no longer skin.  Click.  Click.  Click.  My stomach is now slightly domed and hard.  “Wake up,” I repeat.  Click.  Click.  Click.  Some of my senses are now determined by these brown and fuzzy antennae.  This cold weather and snow outside the windows don’t make the shaking any better. Brown stiff sections cover my stomach, I dared not look at my legs.  I try to lift them: small, skinny, fuzzy, multiple.  My voice, like an alien; unrecognizable.  What has happened?!  How can I explain this to everyone at work?  No one would believe me.  My 15 years of service at my job, and never have I missed, but everyone would get suspicious.  How embarrassing!  Everyone will notice me.  I already missed my train, but may catch the next one.  What the hell do I do now?

I can’t let my parents see me, especially not my mom, her poor little heart won’t be able to cope with the fact that her young boy has turned into an ugly creature.  A monster.  It’s almost funny how fast people change.  Funny how we take our hands and feet for granted on a daily basis.  No, not funny at all.

It is now a quarter after 7.  The door knocks and out comes my mother’s voice, “Gregor!  Are you alright sweetheart? Are you feeling under the weather?  Is there something that I can get you?”  She hasn’t heard my voice until now. “I’m fine mom!,” I replied, and I felt her vibe: concerned.  She tells me that the chief clerk has arrived to my house to see how I’m progressing.  I tell him that I’m doing better, that I’m just getting ready to get the 8 o’clock train, and to not worry about me.  But who am I kidding?  I’m befuddled.  My present state of mind is completely off the charts.

My goal was to go to work.  I open the door and allow them to see my present state.  I am no longer human, but a vermin.  “MY GOODNESS!”, says the chief clerk.  Mother starts to weep, while father holds her and steps back, as if I am a monster.  My sister in shock: blank face, eyes popping, jaw dropping.  The painful quietness filling up everyone’s ears.  Everyone’s fear radiates the hallway.  I feel everyone’s eyes on me, except for my poor mother.  Her eyes red, I’m no longer her good boy, I am the family burden.

The family burden I remained.  For the following two weeks, my own parents didn’t come into my room.  I didn’t leave it.  My room has become the shell that never comes off the turtles’ backs.  I am my own company.  My little sister , Grete, is the only one who is capable of coming into my room, but it isn’t to see me.  Grete has grown dramatically, and has tried to take over the role I played in the family.  She cleans and fixes my room and cleans the debris I leave behind.  Property is destroyed from the acidity of my bodily fluids.  They make this horribly disgusting sound, almost like a huge wet tongue covered in thick saliva, except it’s a thousand times louder.  My mom still doesn’t dare to see me.

Grete was my only hope to having contact with society, and not just talking to myself all the time.  As a man, I had a responsibility of working and providing for the family.  I am no longer the provider in the family, which is a shame, almost as if I am stripped from my manhood.  I am no longer a man.  I am less than a person: a waste of life.  You see, I thought Grete was a good child, covering for me while I am ill, but it wasn’t the case.

With the door always closed, outside sounds sound hollow: deep.  I overheard Grete talking to my parents about me being too much to handle.  I thought she was different, my little sister, has now turned her back on me and not taking care and responsibilities on me.  I rue the day this all started.  My family and friends are nothing but stranger now and it’s painful.  Sometimes my brain goes on overload.  There’s not much i can do when I’m by myself surrounded by four walls and the shaking sound of my antennae.  I will go to sleep now, sleep makes everything better.

 

 

 

 

In “Metamorphosis” by Franz Kafka, the story of a man who converted into a vermin is told in a third-person narration.  The whole story focused a lot on how his life affected everyone around him, rather than the effect it had on him.  While reading the story, I felt it was a lot more important to show how it affected him rather than everyone else, because, after all, the change did happen to him, and not anyone else.  In my retelling of the story, I change the narration from third-person, to first-person.  In the short story, “Monster,” my version of “Metamorphosis,” I allow the reader to get a glimpse of what it was like for Gregor Samsa after becoming a vermin.

As a person living in a big city in the 21st century, I felt like the whole story symbolized a lot of the problems that we have now.  In my eyes, I felt it was something that our society has not accepted yet, and is seen as a monster to everyone else but themselves and alike-people.  I felt like the Gregor’s mother represented society’s lack of acceptance towards the situation.  Towards the end, Gregor dies, and everyone is relieved, which in my eyes, it interpreted as a suicide of the unaccepted group in our society, because society, up until now, kills what they don’t like.  In my retelling, I managed to focus on the pain and neglect that Gregor went through after being transformed.

In the beginning of “Metamorphosis,” Gregor wakes up from a chain of nightmares, and it’s the point in the story where he realizes he is no longer human.  In my interpretation of the story, I felt like it was still that lack of acceptance, and this is the point where he starts to think of how it would be like when the problem is faced in reality.  “What has happened?!  How can I explain this to everyone at work?  No one would believe me. […] How embarrassing,” (second para…Monster).  I made Gregor’s character panic more than the original version just to emphasize the drastic changes and how hard it is for him to deal with something like that.  In all situations in real life, one has to accept things first in order for others to take you seriously.  I felt like his character didn’t do that because his parents and sister would walk all over him and neglect him, so I made him a lot weaker in order for that to stand out later on in the story where Grete’s character turns on him.

“Metamorphosis” kept relating to society, in my eyes, and I felt like some examples of social issues we have had or still have today are things such as blacks versus whites, and straights versus gays.  In both issues, the ones who don’t accept, is the monster in the other’s eyes.  When one is not accepted by the other, they tried to strip them from as many rights as possible in order to eliminate them as a whole because they aren’t viewed as a “person.”  Gregor was being punished by removing his prized possessions.

“Gregor kept trying to assure himself that nothing unusual was happening, it was just a few pieces of furniture being moved after all […]. He was forced to admit to himself that he could not stand all of this much longer.  They were emptying his room out; taking away everything that was dear to him […].”  (Kafka 15)

I felt Gregor was being stripped from his manhood once he didn’t take the responsibility of providing for the family.  I felt like everyone thought it was his fault that he turned into a bug, and that he could have prevented it from happening, so they wanted to take away things because they felt he didn’t deserve.  In the story, Grete thinks that the furniture “was of no use to him at all,” although it was true, Gregor clearly states that he felt like crap when Grete was taking the furniture out of his room, although he wanted to help, they wouldn’t let him and he felt they didn’t care what he wanted to do, they just wanted him out of their way.  In my story, I used the fact that he could not go back to his job as a way to explain the responsibilities that he had to take care of as a man in the house, and how he is being frowned upon because he can no longer be the one who provides in the house and he is now being rejected from his family and now is a family burden.  “My room has become the shell that never comes off the turtles’ backs.  I am my own company. […]  I am no longer a man.  I am less than a person: a wasted of life.”

At the end of the story, Gregor dies and everyone is relieved because they can get a break from him and working.  I felt like they didn’t really care for their loss and were content with the outcome.  In our society, people would do anything to end something they don’t like.  In this case, Gregor’s family wanted nothing to do with him; they wanted to get rid of him, especially Grete.  He knew they didn’t want him in their lives anymore.  She says, “[…] we can’t carry on like this.  Maybe you can’t see it, but I can.  I don’t want to call this monster my brother, all I can say is: we have to try and get rid of it” (Kafka 22).  In my story, he dies almost like with a suicide.  He felt the rejection and he felt it was best to just sleep.  My ending is almost like he forced himself to die to make others happy.

I felt it was a lot more important to tell the story through the main character’s eyes.  If society saw things through everyone’s eyes, a lot more things would be accepted.  And if everyone knew Gregor’s true emotions and the crap everyone put him through for something that he couldn’t change or even picked to be, they wouldn’t treat him as badly as they did in the story.