My Favorite Work

I really enjoyed Edith Wharton’s works.  I had never read her before, and I really enjoyed her ability to tackle and look at messy, real-world issues.  She does not shy away from topics like divorce and the awkwardness accompanying remarriages.  I found her short story “The Other Two” very comical. 

While I enjoyed all her work, my favorite would be Summer.  I liked that the story was not a traditional love story where guy and girl meet, fall in love, and end up together.  I thought that it provided good insights into real life, where everything may not be a fairy tale, but things usually end up working out.  In my opinion, the drastically tragic and the drastically romantic views often found in literature or movies are interesting and perhaps even enjoyable to read or watch, but they do not provide a realistic look at life.  Rarely in life does everything work out perfectly, yet at the same time, life rarely ends in absolute tragedy.  Even in the midst of bad times, there are bright spots.  To me, Summer captures this truth of reality really well.  While Charity falls for a man who appears to use her for sex without much intention to marry her and winds up pregnant, her life does not fall completely apart.  Mr. Royall marries her and gives her security and a home for her and her child.  She may not end up with the love of her life, but a man who loves her and wants to protect her marries her.  She and her child will have a comfortable life with Mr. Royall.  It all worked out.  The semblance of a happy ending – the real-life happy ending – makes Summer an intriguing work because it examines real relationships and real truths applicable to daily life.

Self-Sabotage

In “Babylon Revisited,” Charlie is surprised when Duncan Schaeffer and Lorraine Quarrles arrive at the Peters’ home, wondering how they found the address.  He also tells Marion and Lincoln that “they wormed your name out of somebody” (339).  However, in the very opening of the story he gives the bartender his brother-in-law’s address to give to Schaeffer.  This discrepancy could be unintentional.  After all, Lorraine’s note comes to him at his hotel – the address he had left at the bar “for the purpose of finding a certain man” (336).  This suggests that perhaps the hotel address rather than the Peters’ address was given out in the beginning.  Yet, this seems like a rather blatant error for Fitzgerald and his editors to overlook.

Thus, there must be some reason behind it.  Perhaps Charlie simply forgot that he had left the Peters’ address for Schaeffer.  Perhaps he is initially surprised when they arrive, momentarily forgetting he left the Peters’ address, but then his protestation that he had not given them the address was a defensive mechanism in order to ensure he could get his little girl. 

However, even when he runs into Duncan and Lorraine at the restaurant with Honoria, he hesitates to give out his hotel.  Again, this suggests that he does not want them to know where he is at, which contradicts his leaving the Peters’ address for Schaeffer in the beginning.  Charlie also appears hesitant throughout to spend time with Duncan and Lorraine, so it seems odd that he would leave his address, let alone his brother-in-law’s address, for them.  He appears to understand that his association with them could damage his chances to get back his daughter, so why would he leave his brother-in-law’s address for Schaeffer?  Perhaps, he doesn’t believe he deserves his daughter back.  Or perhaps, he thinks she’ll be better off without him.

The Best Option

I did not find Charity’s marriage to Mr. Royall that depressing of an ending.  Granted, Charity does not get to escape North Dormer, but her marriage to Mr. Royall seems to be a pretty happy ending considering that she was pregnant. 

Whether Lucius Harney loved Charity or not, he never appeared serious about marrying her.  He does not bring up marriage until after Mr. Royall asks him his intentions, and he will not set a date but claims he needs “time to ‘settle things’” (206).  If he knew about the child, he probably would marry her, but that marriage would likely be filled with resentment.  Charity knows this because she knows that the two of them are not meant to be married; she “had never been able to picture herself as his wife” (209). 

Mr. Royall, at least, seems to care genuinely for Charity, and while she doesn’t get away from North Dormer, she can hold her head high and live a life of relative comfort – or at least, one that is far superior to life on the Mountain.  Mr. Royall may have had a few moments of weakness in the past, but Charity trusted him not to take advantage of her as she continued to stay in that house with him.  Also, the fact that on their wedding night, he sleeps in a chair, relieves Charity and demonstrates that he cares for her and won’t hurt her.  Watching him, Charity realizes that he knows she’s pregnant and that was the reason “he had married her, and that he sat there in the darkness to show her she was safe with him” (240).  He knew she was pregnant, so that revelation won’t cause a problem later between the newlyweds.  He also married her to protect her honor and to keep her safe.  And, he does not take advantage of her in her vulnerable state.  He cares about her, so in the very least, he will treat her right and not resent her.  This marriage has the makings of being happier than she would be with Harney. 

And, there’s still a chance she could get away from North Dormer.  In one of his earlier proposals of marriage, he promises to take her away to “some big town” (156).  While he says nothing of leaving North Dormer in the end when he marries her, he still may take her away. 

Finally, the reservations over Mr. Royall marrying Charity because he’s like her father do not really bother me.  Yes, she was raised in his house, but she always called him Mr. Royall, never father.  He had never “legally adopted her” (108).  He also did not seem like he was ever real involved in raising her.  She seemed like she had likely raised herself; for instance, she made her own decisions regarding her education.  They lived in the same house, but he did not seem to act in a fatherly manner to her.

Works Cited

Wharton, Edith.  Ethan Frome & Summer.  New York: The Modern Library, 2001.

Resolution?

At the end of Edith Wharton’s Ethan Frome, the reader learns that Ethan, Zeena, and Mattie have all lived together in that house for over twenty years.  Wharton does not provide much of a glimpse into what that live has been like, but I would imagine that it would be rather awkward.  There’s essentially no resolution to the love triangle.  Zeena continues to live with her husband and the woman he loved and possibly still loves.  Twenty-two years earlier, Zeena could not stand that prospect, so she sent Mattie away.  Perhaps, taking care of Mattie gave her a sense of purpose and relief from the boredom of living on the farm.  Perhaps, she believed Ethan had been drawn to Mattie’s youth and vitality, which the accident had taken from the girl; as an invalid, Mattie may no longer have been threatening to Zeena. 

What are the relationships between three after the accident living in that house?  Wharton does not give us much insight, other than that the two woman do not get along.  Do they go along and pretend that Ethan and Mattie were not ever in love?  Is Zeena merely a caretaker or is she still Ethan’s wife?  Do they each have their own bedroom and live as three very uncomfortable, miserable people without speaking of the past?  Does Ethan still love Mattie?  Did his guilt over her accident affect his feelings for her?  Does he feel guilty?  I imagine that he does since his conscience seems to give him trouble earlier in the story: guilt prevents him from asking the Hales for money under false pretenses and Zeena’s face continually flashes before him.  Has the change in Mattie’s personality affected his feelings for her?  As Mattie whines that the fire went out, but Zeena was asleep, so Mattie was worried that she would freeze before it was restarted.  This one line of hers reminds me of Zeena earlier in the story.  Zeena had always been whining about her health and the lack of care she received from Mattie and Ethan.  As Ethan had not seemed to care for this quality in his wife, I feel that perhaps it dampened his feelings for Mattie.  I’d imagine that Ethan feels guilty toward both women – he betrayed one and physically injured the other.  I presume he feels responsible for the accident, but again, the reader is not given an answer.  As for the accident, does Zeena know that it was a suicide attempt?

All of the unanswered questions leave the story without a clear sense of resolution.  I suppose the narrator probably was not privy to the specifics as I doubt Ethan opened up about his story.  But, then again, this was the narrator’s “vision” of Ethan’s past (19).  It is presented in third person as though it actually occurred, but it is really just the narrator’s thoughts on what happened.  Major events are probably true since those are the anecdotes that the narrator picks up from people around town, but the interactions between Zeena, Ethan, and Mattie are only known to them – and I doubt any of them told the entire story to the narrator, who is an essential stranger, even to Ethan.  Thus, if the narrator is presenting a “vision” of the story, why can’t he wrap up his vision a little more completely? 

Works Cited

Wharton, Edith.  Ethan Frome & Summer.  New York: The Modern Library, 2001.

Stevens' "The Snow Man"

Wallace Stevens’ “The Snow Man” is one long thought.  There is only one period in the entire poem, so it is one “sentence.”  There are only two semicolons to offer a bit of a pause.  Stevens uses quite a bit of enjambment, but interestingly enough, he uses it from the last line of a stanza to the first line of the next.  I had always thought of stanzas as holding a thought or expressing an image, but his enjambment does not allow for pause after his second and fourth stanzas – and his third stanza only ends with a comma, which is not much of a pause.  Thus, I feel that the final stanza is where most of the meaning is as it is the only one that allows for much reflection while reading.

The first four stanzas are mostly descriptions of images of a cold, desolate winter landscape.  The final stanza introduces a figure “who listens in the snow” (13).  This figure also “beholds / Nothing that is not there and the nothing that is” (14-15).  The “nothing that is” present refers back to the imagery of the previous stanzas; essentially the wintery landscape does not hold much but frozen trees and a bit of wind, which in the speaker’s mind amounts to “nothing.” It would not be possible to “behold” something that is not present, so the first part of the line makes sense.  However, the listener does not “behold… the nothing that is” there either.  This could just be an emphasis of the idea that nothing is there to behold; the few trees aren’t anything to bother about.  On the other hand, if the listener does not “behold” what is present, then the listener is not capable of perception.  This idea is enhanced by the fact that the listener is “nothing himself” (14).  A figure that is “nothing” would not be capable of perception or “behold[ing]” anything – but would also not be capable of “listen[ing]” in the snow, which contradicts the previous line.  The final images of a man frozen in the snow unable to perceive anything are rather depressing, which makes a fittingly dark ending for the depressing tone of the earlier descriptions of the landscape.

"The Law of Life"

In London’s “The Law of Life,” Koskoosh accepts being left behind by his tribe to die.  He realizes that it is the “law of life” that “all men must die” (1054).  It certainly is true that everyone eventually dies, but most people want to avoid death and even after a long life do not accept the fact that death comes.  Most people are not as understanding of the nature of life as Koskoosh; perhaps since he lived his tribal life more in tune with nature he had a more accepting view toward death.  London writes that Koskoosh “had been born close to the earth, close to the earth had he lived, and the law thereof was not new to him.  It was the law of all flesh.  Nature was not kindly to the flesh” (1054).  Koskoosh had seen death throughout his life as he lived “close to the earth,” so he understood that every living thing must eventually die; it was a law of nature.

As Koskoosh waits for death to take him, he reflects on his youth and remembers an old moose he had seen killed by wolves.  The moose was targeted by the wolves because he was “an old one who [could not] keep up with the herd” (1055).  The moose, even though he was old and had difficulty keeping up with his herd, made a stand; he did not want to die.  In many ways, the moose is like Koskoosh; both are old and left behind by their herd/tribe.  However, Koskoosh has accepted his fate, while the moose fought for life as many are likely to do even after a long life.  All living creatures are programmed instinctively to cling to life.  At the end of the story, wolves come up to Koskoosh, picking up on prey separated from the herd.  Koskoosh initially waves a torch to keep the wolves away, but he knows eventually the fire will burn out.  He knows death is coming, and he asks himself “why should he cling to life?” (1057).  And, he gives up and succumbs to his fate, the “law of life.”  In this he differs from the moose; when faced with the wolves the moose made a stand:  “he had done his task long since, but none the less was life dear to him” (1056).  Like Koskoosh, the moose was old and had accomplished the task of life: “to perpetuate” (1054).  Yet, the moose still valued life and fought for it instinctively while Koskoosh recognizes the “law of life” and yields. 

Koskoosh’s acceptance of this law is even more intetesting due to the fact that the moose still clung to life.  Most people would not accept death as Koskoosh did, but the assumption that he had lived “close to earth” and seen death as a natural thing and was thus able to accept it does not hold up as well.  Granted, the moose is an example of the nature being unkind to the flesh, but the moose did not accept death.  Koskoosh was able to accept death even when he had seen an animal instinctively cling to life. 

Works Cited

London, Jack.  “The Law of Life.”  The Norton Anthology of American Literature. 7^th ed.  Ed. Nina Baym, Jeanne Campbell Reesman, and Arnold Krupat.  Vol. C.  New York: W.W. Norton & Company, 2007.  1052-1057.

"We Wear the Mask"

Paul Laurence Dunbar’s poetry appears to explore the topic of slavery primarily, including poems written in slave dialect and poems about famous abolitionists Harriet Beecher Stowe and Frederick Douglass.  Due to this common theme, “We Wear the Mask” is likely a poem about the mentality of slaves.  However, “We Wear the Mask” could also apply to humans in general. 

Images such as smiling through “torn and bleeding hearts” and “tortured souls” could apply to slaves putting on a face for their masters; they are “wear[ing] [a] mask” (ln 4, 11).  However, it could also apply more generally to any person suffering from inner or external turmoil that wants to hide his/her pain from others by “wear[ing] [a] mask.”  The second stanza really captures this idea:

            Why should the world be overwise,

            In counting all our tears and sighs?

            Nay, let them only see us, while

                        We wear the mask.  (ln 6-9)

In other words, the speaker poses a rhetorical question, asking why the world should know of every problem of an individual person, and concludes that the world should see the face someone puts on.  The use of the plural “our” and “us” suggests that Dunbar is referring to a group’s shared pain, such as that of an enslaved people; if he were speaking more to an individual wanting to hide his/her pain, he could use the first person pronouns.  However, the idea holds true for an individual.  Plus, the plural could speak not just to a shared pain common to a group but to pain, which is common to all humankind.  I really enjoyed this poem because it did speak to something that is very true in human nature; we have tendencies to hide our problems from the world and “wear [a] mask.”

Chesnutt's Parallel Constructions

Both “The Goophered Grapevine” and “Dave’s Neckliss” are similar stories.  As I read “Dave’s Neckliss,” I kept noticing names of characters and locations being repeated: Annie, Uncle Julius, Mars Dugal, Rockfish, Mars’ Dugal’s second plantation on Beaver Crick, and Wimbletom/Wim’l’ton Road.  This makes sense as the stories belong to a collection or series as Dr. Campbell explained in class.  However, I could not help but notice similarities in structure as well. 

In both, Uncle Julius tells a story from his slave past in an attempt to get what he wants.  In “The Goophered Grapevine,” he wants to keep the narrator and his wife from buying the ruined plantation, so he tells a story to try and convince him that the place is cursed.  In “Dave’s Neckliss,” he wants the ham, so he tells a story to make John and Annie not want the ham any longer.  Are the tales he tells real or made-up?  Is he able to relate a real experience that fits to his purposes or does he create one to get what he wants?  The “goophered” story seems made up to me because while the slaves may have believed in the “goophered” grapes and attributed deaths to something that doesn’t exist, there is no such explanation for the fact that Henry got young and grew hair and then got old and bald in a seasonal cycle.  The story of Dave seems a bit more believable, which is perhaps why it seems more appalling.  However, that story could also be made-up as the tear while eating his sixth slice of ham seems a bit staged. 

It is interesting that the “goophered” story does not succeed – while Dave’s story does – in bringing about what Julius wants.  Partly, this could be due to the fact that Dave’s story is more appalling – and seems more likely to be true.  However, I also think that it has to do with which of Julius’ listeners is responsible for the action.  In both cases, Annie seems more affected by the stories and more likely to believe them to be true.  When she asks him if the “goophered” story is true, she does so “doubtfully, but seriously” (696).  This suggests that at least a small part of her believes the story – or, at least, the tragedy tugs at her emotions.  Similarly, in “Dave’s Neckliss,” she gives Julius the ham because she “couldn’t have eaten any more of” it (508).  This implies that after hearing the story of Dave, she was bothered enough that she couldn’t eat more ham.  On the other hand, her husband does not appear as bothered in either story.  He purchases the plantation regardless of the story and he wants ham after Julius’ story.  Thus, the success of Julius’ story in the “Dave’s Neckliss” seems to rely on the fact that Annie was the one in the position to give him what he hoped to gain by it, whereas in “The Goophered Grapevine,” he was relying on John to do as he wanted. 

The fact that Annie seems more affected by these stories also raises the question of whether Chesnutt was making a point about women being more susceptible than men to these sorts of ploys.  It’s hard to tell if he was trying to denote a gender difference in general or if these are just characteristics of two particular characters that happen to be of different genders as they are the same characters.  If they had been different characters in each story, the conclusion of a statement regarding gender would be easier to come by.

The Power of Women

I could not help but notice the portrayal of powerful women in Mary E. Wilkins Freeman’s stories.  Given that the women of the late nineteenth century did not have a lot of power, it seemed odd that the women in her stories had power over men.

In “The Revolt of ‘Mother,’” Sarah questions her husband building another barn where he had

promised her a house, but he does not answer her.  She is upset and has enough sway over him to make him come in and listen to her, but she does not get an explanation or change his mind.  Up until this point, Sarah appears to be a typical woman of that time.  However, when her husband leaves town, Sarah decides to move into the new barn.  She tells her husband that this is the way it is going to be, and he does not argue.  The ending demonstrates the power Sarah truly has.  She was determined to have a house, so she made the barn into a house; her husband did not fight her on it, but rather wept, not realizing she was so determined to have a house.  The title also suggests that the “mother” was going to have some power, but the fact that her revolt against her husband’s authority was successful given that he acquiesced to her demands shows just how much power Sarah truly had.

Similarly, in “Old Woman Magoun”, the title character got the men to build the bridge she wanted.  Freeman writes that “the weakness of the masculine element in Barry’s Ford was laid low before such strenuous feminine assertion” (361).  Freeeman comes right out and makes Old Woman Magoun a powerful force to be reckoned with.  Unlike in “The Revolt of ‘Mother,’” where Sarah gradually demonstrates her power, Old Woman Magoun is described as powerful from the start.  Also, while Sarah only had power over her husband, Old Woman Magoun wields power over the men in her town.  When Old Woman Magoun claimed that her daughter had been married and had not had a child out of wedlock, “no one had dared openly gainsay the old woman” (362).  No one dared to cross her; she certainly was not a powerless woman.

Even in “A New England Nun,” the female character has some power.  While Louisa participated in very ladylike activities – practically leading a girl’s life – she had power.  She wanted out of her engagement so she could keep on living her way, while Joe had fallen for another woman.  However, neither was willing to back out as they had given their word and didn’t want to hurt the other.  Yet, when Louisa realized that Joe also wanted to break their engagement, she was in the position to break it off as she knew that they both wanted out.  Thus, she had the power over him: either to free him of his obligations or to hold him to his word.  She chooses to break off the engagement, using her power in an unconventional way to keep living the girlish life that she so enjoyed.

Dickinson's Darker Take

Selected poems from The Household Book of Poetry on similar topics as Emily Dickinson’s poetry have a wildly different tone than Dickinson’s poetry.  Her poetry is much darker and more depressing than the poems by her contemporaries.

Sarah Roberts’ “The Voice of the Grass” is an innocent poem extolling the positives of nature, in which she describes how grass grows everywhere.  Dickinson has poems about nature as well, but the tone, while a bit playful, is somewhat darker.  For instance, in “Apparently with no surprise,” Dickinson writes of the destruction of a “happy Flower” by frost (ln 2-3).  By focusing on the destructive rather than the generative power of nature, Dickinson is already taking a different tone.  However, she ends this little poem by describing how the sun is “unmoved” by and how God “approve[s]” of this act (ln 6, 8).  Dickinson demonstrates that nature accepts this evil act of killing a “happy Flower,” and that God even desires that it be so.  She seems to be pointing out that life is supposed to have tragic and dark aspects, that there is no need to pretend nature and life are all perfectly happy and sweet.

Nora Perry’s “Loss and Gain” deals with a death, a common subject that Dickinson seems to tackle.  However, Perry’s poem has a much lighter feel, focusing on the bittersweet memories and how time brings the only lessening of grief.  On the other hand, Dickinson seems to focus on the dead, such as in “Safe in their Alabaster Chambers” and “I died for Beauty – but was scarce.”  By focusing on the dead in their graves, Dickinson provides more morbid images than Perry does by focusing on the living’s memories of the dead.  Even in “I heard a Fly buzz – when I died,” Dickinson, though there is no grave, still focuses on the individual who is dying.  She does not paint a pretty picture of death by talking of “stillness,” the “last Onset,” giving away one’s possessions, and being unable to see (ln 2, 7, 9-10, 16).  She looks at what happens when one dies, while Perry offers the idea that the dead are better off and that time will lessen the hurt (ln 12, 21-22).  Dickinson’s poems don’t seem to take this pat response to death that Perry’s do.

Dickinson, Emily.  “Poems.”  The Norton Anthology of American Literature. 7^th ed.  Ed. Nina Baym, Jeanne Campbell Reesman, and Arnold Krupat.  Vol. C.  New York: W.W. Norton & Company, 2007.  78-91.

Twain's Popularity

Mark Twain was clearly well-liked by the readers of his day.  He was popular on the lecture circuit, advertising simply with phrases or pictures. However, a lot of his work tends to poke fun at his audiences, which makes me wonder how he could be so popular. 

In Letters from the Earth, he takes a rather antagonistic stance regarding Christianity.  He notes that the heaven that most desire embodies everything they dislike on earth.  Some of these points, such as singing and harps, would not likely offend his audience.  However, his thoughts regarding mixing the nations happily in heaven, while “here in the earth all nations hate each other” could be seen as a comment on the hypocrisy of the Christians in his day who support segregation even though they claim that all races are equal before God (313).  I would think that this attack on Christianity would upset his largely Christian audience.  This theme continues throughout Letters from the Earth, culminating in the satirical response by the “Department of Petitions” to one man’s prayers (318).  Here Twain points out that some who profess to be Christians pray for and receive answers to petty prayers that conflict with the goodwill prayers they say out loud in a group setting (318-320). Twain certainly makes a worthy point, although I would presume that many of the audience would take offense.

This idea of prayer being utilized for personal gain appears in “The War Prayer” as well in which a stranger, claiming to be a messenger from God, points out the unspoken part of the prayer delineates all the calamities that they wish will befall their enemy (323).  Twain concludes by saying that the people gather “believed afterward that the man was a lunatic, because there was no sense if what he said” (324).  Here, as in Letters from the Earth, Twain is calling attention to hypocrisy, probably attempting to bring about social change, but as people tend to resist looking at themselves that closely, I would imagine that the general public would not be thrilled with these works that scrutinize them.

Granted, these works may not have affected his popularity since they were both published after his death.  Most likely this delay in publication was due to their controversial subject matter.  However, similar elements could be found in works published in his lifetime as well.  For instance, in “A Visit to Niagara,” Twain criticizes the racist views toward Native Americans. 

Yet, even with his satire, he was very popular. Perhaps Twain became more bold in his depictions of the public as he gained a foothold or perhaps he became more antagonistic in his old age.  I just find it strange that he enjoyed such popularity when he often offended his audience in his works.

Works Cited

Clemens, Samuel.  “A Visit to Niagara.”  Sketches New and Old.  1903.

Twain, Mark.  “from Letters from the Earth.”  The Norton Anthology of American Literature. 7^th ed.  Ed. Nina Baym, Jeanne Campbell Reesman, and Arnold Krupat.  Vol. C.  New York: W.W. Norton & Company, 2007.  307-321.

Twain, Mark.  “The War Prayer.”  The Norton Anthology of American Literature. 7^th ed.  Ed. Nina Baym, Jeanne Campbell Reesman, and Arnold Krupat.  Vol. C.  New York: W.W. Norton & Company, 2007.  322-324.