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The Cottagette

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The Cottagette

Charlotte Perkins Gilman

“Why not?” said Mr. Mathews “It is far too small for a house, too pretty
for a hut, too–unusual–for a cottage.”

“Cottagette, by all means,” said Lois, seating herself on a porch chair.
“But it is larger than it looks, Mr. Mathews. How do you like it,
Malda?”

I was delighted with it. More than delighted. Here this tiny shell of
fresh unpainted wood peeped out from under the trees, the only house in
sight except the distant white specks on far off farms, and the little
wandering village in the river-threaded valley. It sat right on the
turf,–no road, no path even, and the dark woods shadowed the back
windows.

“How about meals?” asked Lois.

“Not two minutes walk,” he assured her, and showed us a little furtive
path between the trees to the place where meals were furnished.

We discussed and examined and exclaimed, Lois holding her pongee skirts
close about her–she needn’t have been so careful, there wasn’t a speck
of dust,–and presently decided to take it.

Never did I know the real joy and peace of living, before that blessed
summer at “High Court.” It was a mountain place, easy enough to get to,
but strangely big and still and far away when you were there.

The working basis of the establishment was an eccentric woman named
Caswell, a sort of musical enthusiast, who had a summer school of music
and the “higher things.” Malicious persons, not able to obtain
accommodations there, called the place “High C.”

I liked the music very well, and kept my thoughts to myself, both high
and low, but “The Cottagette” I loved unreservedly. It was so little
and new and clean, smelling only of its fresh-planed boards–they hadn’t
even stained it.

There was one big room and two little ones in the tiny thing, though
from the outside you wouldn’t have believed it, it looked so small; but
small as it was it harbored a miracle–a real bathroom with water piped
from mountain springs. Our windows opened into the green shadiness, the
soft brownness, the bird-inhabited quiet flower-starred woods. But in
front we looked across whole counties–over a far-off river-into another
state. Off and down and away–it was like sitting on the roof of
something–something very big.

The grass swept up to the door-step, to the walls–only it wasn’t just
grass of course, but such a procession of flowers as I had never
imagined could grow in one place.

You had to go quite a way through the meadow, wearing your own narrow
faintly marked streak in the grass, to reach the town-connecting road
below. But in the woods was a little path, clear and wide, by which we
went to meals.

For we ate with the highly thoughtful musicians, and highly musical
thinkers, in their central boarding-house nearby. They didn’t call it a
boarding-house, which is neither high nor musical; they called it “The
Calceolaria.” There was plenty of that growing about, and I didn’t mind
what they called it so long as the food was good–which it was, and the
prices reasonable–which they were.

The people were extremely interesting–some of them at least; and all of
them were better than the average of summer boarders.

But if there hadn’t been any interesting ones it didn’t matter while
Ford Mathews was there. He was a newspaper man, or rather an
ex-newspaper man, then becoming a writer for magazines, with books
ahead.

He had friends at High Court–he liked music–he liked the place–and he
liked us. Lois liked him too, as was quite natural. I’m sure I did.

He used to come up evenings and sit on the porch and talk.

He came daytimes and went on long walks with us. He established his
workshop in a most attractive little cave not far beyond far beyond
us–the country there is full of rocky ledges and hollows, and sometimes
asked us over to an afternoon tea, made on a gipsy fire.

Lois was a good deal older than I, but not really old at all, and she
didn’t look her thirty-five by ten years. I never blamed her for not
mentioning it, and I wouldn’t have done so, myself, on any account. But
I felt that together we made a safe and reasonable household. She
played beautifully, and there was a piano in our big room. There were
pianos in several other little cottages about–but too far off for any
jar of sound. When the wind was right we caught little wafts of music
now and then; but mostly it was still–blessedly still, about us. And
yet that Calceolaria was only two minutes off–and with raincoats and
rubbers we never minded going to it.

We saw a good deal of Ford and I got interested in him, I couldn’t help
it. He was big. Not extra big in pounds and inches, but a man with big
view and a grip–with purpose and real power. He was going to do
things. I thought he was doing them now, but he didn’t–this was all
like cutting steps in the ice-wall, he said. It had to be done, but the
road was long ahead. And he took an interest in my work too, which is
unusual for a literary man.

Mine wasn’t much. I did embroidery and made designs.

It is such pretty work! I like to draw from flowers and leaves and
things about me; conventionalize them sometimes, and sometimes paint
them just as they are,–in soft silk stitches.

All about up here were the lovely small things I needed; and not only
these, but the lovely big things that make one feel so strong and able
to do beautiful work.

Here was the friend I lived so happily with, and all this fairy land of
sun and shadow, the free immensity of our view, and the dainty comfort
of the Cottagette. We never had to think of ordinary things till the
soft musical thrill of the Japanese gong stole through the trees, and we
trotted off to the Calceolaria.

I think Lois knew before I did.

We were old friends and trusted each other, and she had had experience
too.

“Malda,” she said, “let us face this thing and be rational.” It was a
strange thing that Lois should be so rational and yet so musical–but
she was, and that was one reason I liked her so much.

“You are beginning to love Ford Mathews–do you know it?”

I said yes, I thought I was.

“Does he love you?”

That I couldn’t say. “It is early yet,” I told her. “He is a man, he
is about thirty I believe, he has seen more of life and probably loved
before–it may be nothing more than friendliness with him.”

“Do you think it would be a good marriage?” she asked. We had often
talked of love and marriage, and Lois had helped me to form my
views–hers were very clear and strong.

“Why yes–if he loves me,” I said. “He has told me quite a bit about
his family, good western farming people, real Americans. He is strong
and well–you can read clean living in his eyes and mouth.” Ford’s eyes
were as clear as a girl’s, the whites of them were clear. Most men’s
eyes, when you look at them critically, are not like that. They may
look at you very expressively, but when you look at them, just as
features, they are not very nice.

I liked his looks, but I liked him better.

So I told her that as far as I knew it would be a good marriage–if it
was one.

“How much do you love him?” she asked.

That I couldn’t quite tell,–it was a good deal,–but I didn’t think it
would kill me to lose him.

“Do you love him enough to do something to win him–to really put
yourself out somewhat for that purpose?”

“Why–yes–I think I do. If it was something I approved of. What do
you mean?”

Then Lois unfolded her plan. She had been married,–unhappily married,
in her youth; that was all over and done with years ago; she had told me
about it long since; and she said she did not regret the pain and loss
because it had given her experience. She had her maiden name again–and
freedom. She was so fond of me she wanted to give me the benefit of her
experience–without the pain.

“Men like music,” said Lois; “they like sensible talk; they like beauty
of course, and all that,–”

“Then they ought to like you!” I interrupted, and, as a matter of fact
they did. I knew several who wanted to marry her, but she said “once
was enough.” I don’t think they were “good marriages” though.

“Don’t be foolish, child,” said Lois, “this is serious. What they care
for most after all is domesticity. Of course they’ll fall in love with
anything; but what they want to marry is a homemaker. Now we are living
here in an idyllic sort of way, quite conducive to falling in love, but
no temptation to marriage. If I were you–if I really loved this man
and wished to marry him, I would make a home of this place.”

“Make a home?–why it _is_ a home. I never was so happy anywhere in my
life. What on earth do you mean, Lois?”

“A person might be happy in a balloon, I suppose,” she replied, “but it
wouldn’t be a home. He comes here and sits talking with us, and it’s
quiet and feminine and attractive–and then we hear that big gong at the
Calceolaria, and off we go stopping through the wet woods–and the spell
is broken. Now you can cook.” I could cook. I could cook excellently.
My esteemed Mama had rigorously taught me every branch of what is now
called “domestic science;” and I had no objection to the work, except
that it prevented my doing anything else. And one’s hands are not so
nice when one cooks and washes dishes,–I need nice hands for my
needlework. But if it was a question of pleasing Ford Mathews–

Lois went on calmly. “Miss Caswell would put on a kitchen for us in a
minute, she said she would, you know, when we took the cottage. Plenty
of people keep house up here,–we, can if we want to.”

“But we don’t want to,” I said, “we never have wanted to. The very
beauty of the place is that it never had any house-keeping about it.
Still, as you say, it would be cosy on a wet night, we could have
delicious little suppers, and have him stay–”

“He told me he had never known a home since he was eighteen,” said Lois.

That was how we came to install a kitchen in the Cottagette. The men
put it up in a few days, just a lean-to with a window, a sink and two
doors. I did the cooking. We had nice things, there is no denying
that; good fresh milk and vegetables particularly, fruit is hard to get
in the country, and meat too, still we managed nicely; the less you have
the more you have to manage–it takes time and brains, that’s all.

Lois likes to do housework, but it spoils her hands for practicing, so
she can’t; and I was perfectly willing to do it–it was all in the
interest of my own heart. Ford certainly enjoyed it. He dropped in
often, and ate things with undeniable relish. So I was pleased, though
it did interfere with my work a good deal. I always work best in the
morning; but of course housework has to be done in the morning too; and
it is astonishing how much work there is in the littlest kitchen. You
go in for a minute, and you see this thing and that thing and the other
thing to be done, and your minute is an hour before you know it.

When I was ready to sit down the freshness of the morning was gone
somehow. Before, when I woke up, there was only the clean wood smell of
the house, and then the blessed out-of-doors: now I always felt the call
of the kitchen as soon as I woke. An oil stove will smell a little,
either in or out of the house; and soap, and–well you know if you cook
in a bedroom how it makes the room feel differently? Our house had been
only bedroom and parlor before.

We baked too–the baker’s bread was really pretty poor, and Ford did
enjoy my whole wheat, and brown, and especially hot rolls and gems. it
was a pleasure to feed him, but it did heat up the house, and me. I
never could work much–at my work–baking days. Then, when I did get to
work, the people would come with things,–milk or meat or vegetables, or
children with berries; and what distressed me most was the wheelmarks on
our meadow. They soon made quite a road–they had to of course, but I
hated it–I lost that lovely sense of being on the last edge and looking
over–we were just a bead on a string like other houses. But it was
quite true that I loved this man, and would do more than this to please
him. We couldn’t go off so freely on excursions as we used, either;
when meals are to be prepared someone has to be there, and to take in
things when they come. Sometimes Lois stayed in, she always asked to,
but mostly I did. I couldn’t let her spoil her summer on my account.
And Ford certainly liked it.

He came so often that Lois said she thought it would look better if we
had an older person with us; and that her mother could come if I wanted
her, and she could help with the work of course. That seemed
reasonable, and she came. I wasn’t very fond of Lois’s mother, Mrs.
Fowler, but it did seem a little conspicuous, Mr. Mathews eating with us
more than he did at the Calceolaria.

There were others of course, plenty of them dropping in, but I didn’t
encourage it much, it made so much more work. They would come in to
supper, and then we would have musical evenings. They offered to help
me wash dishes, some of them, but a new hand in the kitchen is not much
help, I preferred to do it myself; then I knew where the dishes were.

Ford never seemed to want to wipe dishes; though I often wished he
would.

So Mrs. Fowler came. She and Lois had one room, they had to,–and she
really did a lot of the work, she was a very practical old lady.

Then the house began to be noisy. You hear another person in a kitchen
more than you hear yourself, I think,–and the walls were only boards.
She swept more than we did too. I don’t think much sweeping is needed
in a clean place like that; and she dusted all the time; which I know is
unnecessary. I still did most of the cooking, but I could get off more
to draw, out-of-doors; and to walk. Ford was in and out continually,
and, it seemed to me, was really coming nearer. What was one summer of
interrupted work, of noise and dirt and smell and constant meditation on
what to eat next, compared to a lifetime of love? Besides–if he
married me–I should have to do it always, and might as well get used to
it.

Lois kept me contented, too, telling me nice things that Ford said about
my cooking. “He does appreciate it so,” she said.

One day he came around early and asked me to go up Hugh’s Peak with him.
It was a lovely climb and took all day. I demurred a little, it was
Monday, Mrs. Fowler thought it was cheaper to have a woman come and
wash, and we did, but it certainly made more work.

“Never mind,” he said, “what’s washing day or ironing day or any of that
old foolishness to us? This is walking day–that’s what it is.” It was
really, cool and sweet and fresh,–it had rained in the night,–and
brilliantly clear.

“Come along!” he said. “We can see as far as Patch Mountain I’m sure.
There’ll never be a better day.”

“Is anyone else going?” I asked.

“Not a soul. It’s just us. Come.”

I came gladly, only suggesting–“Wait, let me put up a lunch.”

“I’ll wait just long enough for you to put on knickers and a short
skirt,” said he. “The lunch is all in the basket on my back. I know
how long it takes for you women to ‘put up’ sandwiches and things.”

We were off in ten minutes, light-footed and happy, and the day was all
that could be asked. He brought a perfect lunch, too, and had made it
all himself. I confess it tasted better to me than my own cooking; but
perhaps that was the climb.

When we were nearly down we stopped by a spring on a broad ledge, and
supped, making tea as he liked to do out-of-doors. We saw the round sun
setting at one end of a world view, and the round moon rising at the
other; calmly shining each on each.

And then he asked me to be his wife.–

We were very happy.

“But there’s a condition!” said he all at once, sitting up straight and
looking very fierce. “You mustn’t cook!”

“What!” said I. “Mustn’t cook?”

“No,” said he, “you must give it up–for my sake.”

I stared at him dumbly.

“Yes, I know all about it,” he went on, “Lois told me. I’ve seen a good
deal of Lois–since you’ve taken to cooking. And since I would talk
about you, naturally I learned a lot. She told me how you were brought
up, and how strong your domestic instincts were–but bless your artist
soul dear girl, you have some others!” Then he smiled rather queerly
and murmured, “surely in vain the net is spread in the sight of any
bird.”

“I’ve watched you, dear, all summer;” he went on, “it doesn’t agree with
you.

“Of course the things taste good–but so do my things! I’m a good cook
myself. My father was a cook, for years–at good wages. I’m used to it
you see.

“One summer when I was hard up I cooked for a living–and saved money
instead of starving.”

“O ho!” said I, “that accounts for the tea–and the lunch!”

“And lots of other things,” said he. “But you haven’t done half as much
of your lovely work since you started this kitchen business, and–you’ll
forgive me, dear–it hasn’t been as good. Your work is quite too good
to lose; it is a beautiful and distinctive art, and I don’t want you to
let it go. What would you think of me if I gave up my hard long years
of writing for the easy competence of a well-paid cook!”

I was still too happy to think very clearly. I just sat and looked at
him. “But you want to marry me?” I said.

“I want to marry you, Malda,–because I love you–because you are young
and strong and beautiful–because you are wild and sweet and–fragrant,
and–elusive, like the wild flowers you love. Because you are so truly
an artist in your special way, seeing beauty and giving it to others. I
love you because of all this, because you are rational and highminded
and capable of friendship,–and in spite of your cooking!”

“But–how do you want to live?”

“As we did here–at first,” he said. “There was peace, exquisite
silence. There was beauty–nothing but beauty. There were the clean
wood odors and flowers and fragrances and sweet wild wind. And there
was you–your fair self, always delicately dressed, with white firm
fingers sure of touch in delicate true work. I loved you then. When
you took to cooking it jarred on me. I have been a cook, I tell you,
and I know what it is. I hated it–to see my wood-flower in a kitchen.
But Lois told me about how you were brought up to it and loved it–and I
said to myself, ‘I love this woman; I will wait and see if I love her
even as a cook.’ And I do, Darling: I withdraw the condition. I will
love you always, even if you insist on being my cook for life!”

“O I don’t insist!” I cried. “I don’t want to cook–I want to draw!
But I thought–Lois said–How she has misunderstood you!”

“It is not true, always, my dear,” said he, “that the way to a man’s
heart is through his stomach; at least it’s not the only way. Lois
doesn’t know everything, she is young yet! And perhaps for my sake you
can give it up. Can you sweet?”

Could I? Could I? Was there ever a man like this?

[text taken from http://www.fullbooks.com/The-Forerunner-Volume-1-1909-1910-12.html]

Are You Mr. Right?

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Are You Mr. Right?

Crystal Lin

Has love ever existed? What is love? I’ve wonder. I, Lois was once a beautiful and sexy girl in the village, and was admired by men, but I picked him, Tom Bucker. Tom was a young and handsome newspaper worker in the village. One day, someone came to ring my door bell, I looked out the window and I saw a young man standing outside, and his face looked fresh to me.

Tom came to me and offered me to be his newspaper topic. He told me he heard about my music talents and he wanted to write a paper on me. Tom was skinny and his clothes didn’t make him look dull but instead more sexy. I fell for him at once but I told myself to keep it inside my heart. We started our interview, sitting by the riverside. Does that count as “Dating?” Ever since then, he came to interview me almost every day, and that was how we got to know each other.

After three months, he proposed to me. It was a rainy day, and neither of us brought an umbrella. He covered me with his jacket while we walked to the tree, and we sat under the tree while waited for the rain to stop. His action really touched my heart because he was so sweet and considerate.

After the rain stopped, we went back to the riverside and then he suddenly bended down and proposed to me.

“I love talking to you and being with you. I enjoyed spending time with you and I do not want this to be just a moment but instead I want it forever. Lois, would you like to be my wife?” He asked.

I was shocked at this action, he was always so humorous, yet quiet. He had surprised me this time, and I love it because I love him very much. Yes, I have to admit we both fell in love during these three months.

“Oh my lord, I feel the same for you. Yes I will be your wife, if you promise me this. As you know I love my music, and I would like to keep it as my career in the future. Therefore, I do not have time to cook – be your kitchen lady.” I said.

“Oh sure dear, I will be your kitchen man. Don’t worry, nothing is going to change. I’m still going to write my newspaper, and you do what you like. I will love you even though you do not cook for me,” he said.

After a month, we got married. It was supposed to be a happy marriage, but it wasn’t. We were fine in the beginning because everything went as we planned. He went to work in the morning and came home at night and cooked while I stayed home and practiced my music. But everything changed after a year of our happy marriage. He started to complain that I didn’t do the job a wife should do, mainly cooking. He told me that he was so jealous at his friend, because his wife cooked and handled house chores perfectly that his friend didn’t have to worry after came back from work. One night, he said to me.

“This is not the life I want, I thought I’m okay with that but as result I ain’t,” he said.

He had forgot what he promised me when he proposed to me that day.

Now, I understood what kind of man he was. He was sweet before he had me, but after he had me everything changed, forget about the love and the promise because all was a lie.

Ever since that night, we didn’t talk to each other nor sleep together. That relationship didn’t last the month, we got divorced and I got my freedom back and lived with my best friend, Malda.

I see Malda as my past, because she is pretty and sexy and she has her own interests. She was good at art and I was good at music. Malda was young and sexy just like I was in the past. One day, Malda told me that she met a writer and he treated her like a sweetheart. And yes, that was how Tom used to treat me, too. I was worried that she would “repeat my mistakes.”

As her best friend I did not want to see her that happen.

“You are beginning to love Ford Mathews—do you know it?” I asked.

“Yes.” She said.

“Does he love you?” I asked.

“It is early yet, he is a man, he is about thirty I believe, he has seem more of life and probably loved before-it may be nothing more than friendliness with him” She answered.

“Do you think it would be a good marriage?” I asked. We had often talked of love and marriage and I told her my past too.

“Why yes—if he loves me. He has told me quite a bit about his family, good western farming people, real Americans. He is strong and well—you can read clean living in his eyes and mouth. “Ford’s eyes were as clear as a girl’s, the whites of them were clear. Most men’s eyes…

“STOP!” I yelled.

Malda stared at me and I took a deep breath.

“He’s just like my ex-husband Tom Bucker. I know how much you love him. I know what he’s going to offer you when he proposes to you. Just remember one thing “Don’t be foolish, child, this is serious. What they care for most, after all, is domesticity. Of course they’ll fall in love with anything; but what they want to marry is a homemaker. Now we are living here in an idyllic sort of way, quite conducive to falling in love, with no temptation to marriage. If I were you—if I really loved this man and wished to marry him, I would make a home of this place.” I said.

And yet I couldn’t give up my career for Tom, was that because I didnt love him that much like I think I did?

Malda looked serious at me.

“Yes, I’m serious Lois. I know he’s my Mr. Right and I will do anything to please him, because I love him and I’m sure he will do the same too,” she said.

Malda surprised me after our last conversation. She started to cook and although it wasn’t good,  Ford started to come by very often, (of course with me there). He came almost every day and had dinner with us. One night, I decided to talk to Ford about Malda and him. After dinner, I talked to Ford alone while Malda was washing.

“Ford, I know you love Malda, but do you love her enough to change the domesticity society?” I asked.

He looked at me with humorous face “Yes, I do not think that’s the problem, because of where and how I grown up,” he said.

“I hope you will keep your promise forever, because as you know she loves arts and you have to admit she’s good at it too. I want her to have the best.” I said in a serious tone.

One year later, Malda married Ford Mathews and I was happy for her. Malda was willing to change herself to give up her interest and be Ford’s kitchen lady. And yet, Ford was willing to switch the kitchen work with her once a while so she can do her art. And me, sitting by the window and watching the rain thinking about what would happen if I willing to learn to cook for Tom. Would we have had a marriage if I wasn’t that stubborn? I’m starting to wonder if I should give myself another chance and seek for my Mr. Right again?

 

 

 

 

In the short stories The Cottagette and Are You Mr. Right? focus on whether women should be live as in domesticity society, where women must do the kitchen and house chores while men work outside, and how love overcome that. The both stories are in first person character narrator but as in different character’s point of view. In the original story The Cottagette by Charlotte Perkins Gilman is telling from the main character; Malda’s point of view. She is type of girl will give up her interests for her love one. And in the retell story Are You Mr. Right?, is telling from Lois’s point of view based on her failed marriage experience, and to show how she qualify to be a marriage adviser. Lois is type of girl that will not change for anyone, even for her love one.

In the story The Cottagette, the narrator is focus on Malda’s point of view on her feeling and how she fall in love on Ford Mathews. And yet she didn’t know what man expect from woman, until Lois told her, and after she knows, she’s willing to change herself.

Malda and Lois both have their own interests. Malda is good in art, and Lois is good in music. Malda met a writer Ford Mathews, and she fall in love on him that she’s willing to do anything to please him. And Lois work as Malda’s marriage adviser.

“Then Lois unfolded her plan. She had been married,–unhappily married, in her youth; that was all over and done with years ago; she had told me about it long since; and she said she did not regret the pain and loss because it had given her experience.” (27). Lois was married at her youth, but had an unhappy marriage. But she never feel regret because she learned her lesson. Because of Lois past, she understands what man is looking for and that make her qualify to become Malda’s adviser.

Lois told Malda that all men care are their stomachs, they insisted to find a kitchen lady no matter what even though they love you so much. From the story Are You Mr. Right?, “He started to complain that I didn’t do the job a wife should do, mainly cooking. He told me that he was so jealous at his friend, because his wife cooked and handled house chores perfectly that his friend didn’t have to worry after came back from work. One night, he said to me…This is not the life I want, I thought I’m okay with that but as result I ain’t,” he said. Everything went okay until one night Tom came home and complained that Lois didn’t do the job as a wife should do – cooking. He told Lois that he was jealous at his friend because he has a good wife and she’s willing to cook for him. Tom told Lois if she not going to do what a wife should do, then he couldn’t accept it anymore –soon they ended up divorced.

Lois also mention that in the story The Cottagette,“A person might be happy in a balloon, I suppose,” she replied, “but it wouldn’t be a home. He comes here and sits talking with us, and it’s quiety and feminine and attractive –and then we hear that big gong at the Calceolaria, and off we go stopping through the wet woods–and the spell is broken. Now you can cook.” (31). Lois is saying that food is the most important thing to a man, they can leave what they were doing and went for the food. Lois also pointing out that in order for this to be a happy marriage, Malda needs to prepare to cook for him. “This is serious. What they care for most after all is domesticity. Of course they’ll fall in love with anything; but what they want to marry is a homemaker. Now we are living here in an idyllic sort of way, quite conducive to falling in love, but no temptation to marriage. If I were you—if I really loved this man and wished to marry him, I would make a home of this place.” (24). Lois is saying that this is serious since they live in domesticity world. Of course man will fall in love on anything, but the most important thing they want is to marry a woman who can cook. Lois said if she is in Malda’s position, she will build a kitchen inside the cottagetee and learn to cook if she really love Ford.

And yet, Malda has no problem with the domesticity world because she know how to cook.“I could cook. I could cook excellently. My esteemed Mama had rigorously taught me every branch of what is now called “domestic science;” and I had no objection to the work, except that it prevented my doing anything else. And one’s hands are not so nice when one cooks and wash dishes,–I need nice hands for my needlework. But if it was a question of pleasing Ford Mathews.” (24). Malda is saying that she can cook because her mother taught her the skill in the past. But she has her work to do, it was hard to work on one hand and wash dishes on another hand. But she is willing to give up her work if cooking for Ford will make him happy. She feels cooking will not be a problem for her but then she will not be able to work on art. Although, she doesn’t like to cook.

From the story Are You Mr. Right?, Lois asked Tom to promise her something before she willing to marry him “Oh my lord, I feel the same for you. Yes I will be your wife, if you promise me this. As you know I love my music, and I would like to keep it as my career in the future. Therefore, I do not have time to cook – be your kitchen lady.” I said. Lois told Tom a heads of time that she will not cook for him because she’s busy with her music work and she wants to find a job in that field in the future. And at that time Tom said, “Oh sure dear, I will be your kitchen man. Don’t worry, nothing is going to change. I’m still going to write my newspaper, and you do what you like. I will love you even though you do not cook for me,” he said. Tom told Lois that she can concentrate on her work, and he will work and cook. He also said that he will still love Lois even though she doesn’t want to cook for him. But later on, Tom felt regret and they started to have arguments and they divorced at the end.

On the other hand from the story The Cottagette, Ford Mathews doesn’t want Malda to cook for him because he wants her to focus more on her art work. He doesn’t want her to give up her interest just for him. “Yes, I know all about it,” he went on, “Lois told me. I’ve seen a good deal of Lois—since you’ve taken to cooking. And since I would talk about you, naturally I learned a lot. She told me how you were brought up, and how strong your domestic instincts were—but bless your artist soul dear girl, you have some others!” Then he smiled rather queerly and murmured, “surely in vain the net is spread in the sight of any bird.” (55). Ford is saying that Lois had told him about Malda and her talent as well, he thinks she should continue doing what she like and don’t give up anything for him, he is proud of Malda’s talent. At here, Ford shows consideration on Malda and he willing to accept her as whom she is and doesn’t want her to change her beauty. He love her as who she is.

In conclusion, shifting from another character’s point of view really made the reader to understand better in another way. In the original story “The Cottagette” we get to understand that Malda was young, pretty and open-mind that she willing to change herself and give up her interest for her love one if she has to. She’s the type of girl that will do anything to please her love one. We get to access to Malda’s mind, however we didn’t get to know how Lois being quality as a marriage adviser. We know Lois was married before from the story The Cottagette, but Malda didn’t mention much about that in detail. And in the retell story, I expanded Lois’ past and shows how she understands man better than Malda based on her background and past, which mades her quality as a marriage adviser. Lois has opposite personality than Malda. Lois was young, pretty but stubborn, she will not change herself no matter what and perhaps that was why she doesn’t have a happy marriage. But after she saw Malda and Ford’s marriage, she starts to think differently.

 

What Some Women Think Men Expect From Them

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 What Some Women Think Men Expect From Them

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Malda met Mr. ford at the calceolaria, a place where highly thoughtful musicians and highly musical thinker would gather to eat.  Mathews was an ex-newspaper man and a future book writer.  He was a passionate man who enjoyed music, and he also like the little place we lived in. Moreover, he liked our company and so did I. Mathews have friends in very high places. However, Most evening he would come and sit on our balcony and we would chat and sometimes we would go hiking during the day. And sometimes he would invite us for an afternoon tea, made on gipsy fire where he organized his workshop.

Malda was a great artist. She designed and did embroidery. She was very talented and her works were extremely attractive.  She made drawings from flowers, leaves, and things about her.   She was very passionate about her works because that was the thing that completed her.  She likes music, nature and every little admirable thing about it. When Malda an I sit and talked about our environment, she would tell me how she sees up here as a place where she gained all the little beautiful things she had desire and all the big things that put joy and confidence in one’s life and can push you to accomplish great and splendid works. Malda and I shared the beautiful and peaceful cottagette.  We were happy of the vast size of the view and did not have to worry about anything except when the soft musical thrill of the gong stole through the tree, and we hurried off to the calceolaria.

One thing Malda, Mathews and I had in common was that we were all into music. In fact, I was a pianist, a really good one, and Malda enjoyed watching me played. I was quite older than Malda. Nevertheless, I appeared younger than my actual age.

I have noticed that everyday malda was getting closer and closer to Mr. Ford. She was starting to fall for him. It was clear to me that she was in love with Mathews but I did not think she knew it herself.

“You beginning to love Ford Mathews –do you know it “? I asked her.

Yes, she replied with little doubts.

“Does he love you?” I asked

‘’ It is early to predict. She told me “

It was cleared that she did not know how Mr. Ford Mathews really felt about her. Malda and I had a really good relationship. We trusted and liked each other. Therefore, I felt like I was responsible for her.  ‘Men would fall for anything’. “They like music, romantic talk and beauty”. Moreover, They will fall for your beauty and your dreams but in the end what they really care about is domesticity. They want to marry someone who can do housework, especially someone who knows her way around the kitchen.  ”Trust me it is the truth”. I have been married before, long ago when I was just a girl. It was not the type of marriage a young girl would hope for. There was no happiness. Jerome was a bit older than I was when we got married. Unlike Mr. ford, he was neither into music nor the romantic type. He’s passion was work and spending time at the town local bar. I was more like a servant than a wife to him and sometimes I think that’s what kept him around during the time we spent together. I would cook, wash dishes, do laundries and iron his clothes.  All I get in return was nothing. No love, it was plain agony and I have learned from it all.

To have a home, one must have a kitchen. That’s the ideal of a home to me. My mother has taught me how to be a good homemaker. I knew how to cook very well and do other housework. Malda was in love with Mr. Ford Mathews, and a perfect way to get a man to marry you, is to show him you are a good homemaker since all the really care about is domesticity. Therefore, I insisted that we get kitchen in order for Malda to please Mr. Ford Mathews and win his heart.

 

 

 

 

I have chosen a part of the story “the cottagette” to retell. The narrative style used in the story is the first person narration, which mean the story is focus on one person’s perspective. I have kept the same narrative style, but change the main narrator to another. In the story Malda is a young woman who is attracted to a man name Mr. ford Mathews and her friends Lois is advising her on what she thinks men want in women and what women should do to keep a man happy. Although in the original story the narrator tried to express her point of view in a very understanding way, in the retelling story you get a clearer understanding and a slightly change in Lois thoughts because she is now controlling her thoughts as the narrator instead of having Malda.

Having Lois as the narrator brings more life to her point of view rather than having Malda telling her story. Lois thoughts are slightly different now because she is the one directing her feelings to us now.  If we look at the second paragraph of the new version of the story, and from lines 8 to 11 in the original story, there is a minor change in expression in the way Malda described her works and views on things than the way Lois described them in the retelling version. Lois is Malda best friend and roommate; therefore, one can say they are pretty close. Lois sees Malda works in a more profound way than Malda sees them. She is able to realize than Malda works is one thing that put joy in her life and that she was very passionate about what she did. For example, Lois mentioned that Malda works were extremely attractive. Moreover, she likes music, nature, and every little admirable thing that relate to nature. Therefore, one can tell that Lois really admired Malda works, and as a friend, she pays good attention to her friend.

Another good approach on Lois focuses as a narrator as oppose to malda is how she is able to quickly notice her friend falling for Mr. Ford and how she relates things together. In paragraph 3 in the new version, Lois explains how Malda, Mr. ford and herself are all passionate about music, and it is one thing that connected them together. We can conclude that music played a major role in their life as individual and as friends.  Lois played the piano really good and Malda really liked to listen to her piece, and Mr. Ford Mathews was someone who enjoyed music a lot. In addition, Lois was able to rapidly draw a conclusion that Malda was falling for Mr. Ford because of how close the two couple have gotten to each other due to a lot of time they have spent together. In the original story Malda mentioned “You beginning to fall for Mr. Ford and you cannot even see it said Lois”. However, there weren’t enough details that showed us how she noticed such thing because as Malda the narrator, she does not have a lot of access to Lois thoughts. Fortunately, the new version provides that information because as Lois the narrator, we get full access in her thoughts.  Malda and Mr. Ford would see each other more than often. They would go places together and he was always in the house. As a result, she has gotten very close with him and it lead to her falling for him. Therefore, having Lois as the narrator help us understand her point of view much better than having Malda as the narrator.

In the retelling story, we get more out of Lois’s perspective on what men desire in women and on what she has been through in her past than it is detailed in the original story. Her point of view is more expressive now because she is the one directing to us her thoughts and experience. In the original story, Malda mentioned, “ of course man would fall in love, “but what they want to marry is a home maker, said Lois”. However, it doesn’t say how Lois came up with such conclusion. In the new version Lois state “trust me I know”; I have been unhappily married long before when I was a young girl. As a result, that is the reason why Lois thinks that without a kitchen you cannot call your place a home. Moreover, in order to get a man to marry you, being able to perform housework is a must.  Lois have learned a lot from the past and gained a lot of experience. We can assume that being a homemaker was a major key in Lois’s relationship back then and that the reason why she keep on rejecting every man who revealed his feelings for her

With Lois as the narrator, it is easier to comprehend her feelings and to be able to see how her past experiences has affected her life as an individual.  In the retelling story, Lois mentioned, “I was treated more as a servant than a wife”. In her case, domesticity was the key to the relationship. They had nothing in common. She was trapped in his world back then as she is now for thinking being a homemaker will make Malda wins Mr. FORD’S heart.  In the original story malda pointed out Lois’s point of view but gave little details because she doesn’t have that access Lois has when she is the one narrating the part. Therefore, having Lois as the narrator gives us a clearer meaning of her perspective toward Malda and Mr. Ford relationship.