The 70s

I must apologize for the delay in posting this--I had a week of personal crises, and could barely wrap my head around reading anything, much less processing it. However, my head is clear, the crises are over, and here goes!

We read three stories for the 1970s--"Roses, Rhododendron," by Alice Adams; "Verona: A Young Woman Speaks," by Harold Brodkey, and "How To Win," by Rosellen Brown. What struck me as I was reading was the prevalent theme of childhood. Each story was centered around children, their lives, and the interactions between children and parents.

To begin, let's look at "How To Win." In this story, a mother is faced with the grave difficulty of having a child with autism. During the 1970s, schools finally began introducing IEPS, that is to say, Individualized Education Plans, to help the lesser-functioning students make their way through school. This was a novel thought at the time--no one had taken any interest in these children before. The struggle this poor mother has with her child is a direct reflection of the difficulties of the time...there were no supports like there are now, and parents had to make do on their own. Education about the disorder was lax as well, as is evidenced by the father's comment on pages 511 and 514. He is of the 'boys will be boys' notion, and seems to disregard the fact that his son has a justifiable developmental disorder.

The remaining two stories are not pertaining to the first in terms of disorder, but only in terms of childhood. Each story, in fact, has a completely unique view on it, although some parallels can be drawn between the last two, to describe the relationship a girl has with her mother. I digress (again), however, so back to the point.

"Roses, Rhododendron" is the story of a young girl who's mother is a little, shall we say, flighty. She moves her daughter to North Carolina based on the whims of a Ouija board, and sets up shop dealing antiques. The daughter becomes close friends with a local family, despite her mother's jealousies. However, when she goes off to college, she loses touch with her friend, only to reconnect with her at the very end of the story.

What strikes me the most with this piece, is the author's ability to describe the mind of a child perfectly. When the girl witnesses a fight between her friends parents, she forgets about it, just like any other child who refuses to accept that their world is less than they desire it. When she loses contact with her friend, she builds a world around her, nearly idolizing her, only to discover that her friend had done the same with her.

The final story, "Verona: A Young Woman Speaks," is narrated by a very young girl who is traveling with her parents in Europe. The time period is set quite before the 70s, probably even before WWII, but it is not specified. The girl is having the time of her life, as is the whole family, yet the dynamics are fascinating. The father is the material parent, relying on presents and trips to solidify his place in his daughter's life. The mother on the other hand, with her strong personality, is simply the girl's Momma. There is a beautiful scene on the last page which demonstrates this, where the girl and her mother are on a train, simply looking out at the scenery passing them by. The father doesn't recognize the beauty, and goes back to sleep, but the girl, snuggled in her mother's arms, is happy (pg. 538).

The similarities between these stories, the theme of childhood and family dynamics, are closely related to some issues during the 70s. Families were being redefined by the prevalence of technology, and even close family ties were changing. It's no wonder then, that family played a large part in the literature of the decade.

The Ledge

*Apologies in advance for the sarcasm*


Oh my, where on earth do I start with this one. First off, can anyone say depressing? Holy crap! Every single story we read this week was abysmally depressing--from suicide, to wartime, to this. I'm sorry, but I fail to see the point of this level of depression. Of course, I am fully aware of the blinders I wear--I definitely prefer happy endings with rainbows and unicorns and fluffy kittens. Yeah, just kidding. I used to, though. In fact, I used to shun anything with even a remotely sad ending. Now, on the other hand, I am proud to say I can recognize the worth of a depressing ending, and when you look at this story in the context of history, it becomes even clearer.

"The Ledge" was written in 1960, by Lawrence Sargent Hall, and is the story of a grizzled fisherman who takes his son and nephew duck hunting on Christmas morning. And there ends any inkling of a happy story. Yes, they do have a slightly heart-warming "bonding" moment out there on the ledge, their hunt being incredibly successful. We can tell that the fisherman cares about the boys, although he has difficulty showing it, but still, the entire attitude of the text is harsh and frigid. It doesn't help that in the end, the skiff drifts off to sea, and the entire party freezes to death. Well, the fisherman does--the boys' bodies are never found.

I had to take a minute to think about this one, and finally realized that in historical context, the depressing ending is justified. It was in the start of the 60s that the horror of WWII was processed, and a lot of this came about with a blossoming of realistic fiction. Of course, I don't know who decided that 'realistic' had to mean 'depressing' but oh well. Everyone needs time to process, and that is what these stories are. They are processing the events of the previous war, as well as the impending horrors of Vietnam. Granted, the events of this story take place before the inklings of Vietnam, but as a cultural thing, many stories in this decade were influenced by it.

And enough with the history, let's take a look at the author. This connection is pretty straight-laced--Lawrence Sargent Hall spent a good portion of his life running a marina on the coast of Maine, and was quite concerned with how humans deal with situations under pressure, and he tended to write about gruff "manly men" in his stories. Anyone catch the similarities? Hall's life on the coast and his love for the sea was his inspiration, it is no wonder that his stories reflect this. I feel every writer does this--creates a story to either illustrate an inspiration or to cope with an emotion. In Hall's case, I believe it was to illustrate an inspiration...his love for the sea and his fascination with human behavior.

Miami-New York

This was my favorite story of all of them, but strangely I am having a difficult time deciding what to say about it. Well, I suppose I can start with the author. Martha Gellhorn was first described to me as "kinda badass" and I wholeheartedly agree with this assessment. She was a little pistol, passionate about her work, her life, and her lovers. She was most famous for her war-time correspondence, if fact, it was said that her correspondences were even better than Ernest Hemingway's. Interestingly enough, she ended up marrying him, although it did not last long due to the potency of their personalities.

It is not surprising, then, that this passionate woman of great strength and many lovers would write a story such as "Miami-New York." A woman in a loveless marriage meets a young officer on a plane, and in the darkness of the red-eye flight, they share an interlude of passion and intimacy. Not fated to last, this interlude is cut short by the realizations of who they are--the woman realizes the officer is young, merely 24, while he realizes that she is actually 35. They maintain a slightly awkward conversation while the flight finishes up, then part ways at the airport, never to meet again. I must admit, given Gellhorn's passionate nature, it makes me wonder if a chance meeting in her life turned into something more torrid, then faded with the morning's light.

It was the poignancy of this story that struck me the most...a woman trapped in a marriage she is unsure about, saddled with a husband who (she believes) loves her not. Is it no surprise then that she falls for the sensual hands and brooding features of the young officer? I think about how this would be different if she had a good relationship with her husband...if her mind was full of tender memories, reassurances of love and devotion, would she have even looked twice at John Hanley? I doubt it. I doubt he would have seen the vulnerability in her features, the need to be thoroughly kissed. And that is where I feel the point Martha Gellhorn was making. She was a woman who had many relationships, many of which simply did not work out. Perhaps this is her message of validation to women in Kate Merlin's situation. Perhaps she is encouraging them to be free, to live their own life, and society be damned.

The Hitch-Hikers & The Peach Stone

A question was brought up in class regarding "The Hitch-Hikers," by Eudora Welty. It asked how the concept of hospitality changed in the 40s, and how this affected the story. In the 30s, with the Great Depression, things were much more conservative and isolationist. With the advent of WWII, America became much closer-knit, standing strong together.

his affects the story in a simple way. The hitch-hikers. Harris picks them up because they're clearly not bums (page 3). Nowadays, one would hardly ever pick up a hitch-hiker, back then, it was fairly common. Even with the party later on, Harris is invited over, even though he may not have seen Ruth in ages (page 7). Five years ago, this may not have happened, not that there were many parties going on then.


Paul Horgan, the author of "The Peach Stone," loved the West. He moved out there, and most of his stories take place there as well. His stories usually revolve around the characters and there development, and this story is no different. It starts with a family on a trip. This is not a happy trip, though. The family is on their way to their hometown to bury the body of their dead daughter in the family graveyard. In keeping with Horgan's style, the family, the mother especially, moves from pure grief to the glimmer of hope for the future.

The story is truly a an insight into small-town Western life, complete with the character who went East to study, and came back to teach. Arleen Latcher has a superiority complex to rival Emperor Palpatine (forgive m\y geeky reference). She's a hyper-religious, stuck-up snob, basically. Everything she says brings the attention to herself, and most of it casts her in the role of a Christian martyr (page 232). But then again, what world would be complete without a character like that?

Here We Are

I'm going to try and keep this post fairly short, simply because if I try to tackle everything that's going on in this story, I'll never leave my laptop. Instead, I'm simply going to tackle one prevalent theme: the lack of self confidence in the characters on the subject of marriage, a theme that ties directly into the history of the time, simply by addressing marriage in this light. The story was written just after the great stock market crash, and it takes place in a time where women are coming into their own, and family values are being stressed by the economics of the Great Depression. Everything in that time was uncertain, an uncertainty that is reflected by the characters of this story.

We have two main characters, a bride and groom, who remain unnamed. They have only been married for 2 hours and 26 minutes, and both are nervous about their decision, the bride more so. Their nerves are in different areas, though. The bride is concerned about the marriage itself, in fact, she brings it up right away, talking about how many people think about marriage "Just as if it wasn't anything." (page 128, line 21) This becomes a common thread, and one can infer from the text that she is freaking out about her decision. She doesn't know the first thing about marriage, a fact that becomes clear when her new husband begins alluding to the wedding night (page 132-133). She talks about having to write letters, and wanting to go to sleep, while her poor husband is beginning to despair of ever being "married" in his sense of the word.

The husband's nerves stem from not knowing how to handle his new wife. He tries to soothe the discussion when she begins to panic, but it only escalates, until he is frustrated as well. He mentions that her friend Louise looked pretty at the wedding (page 129), little knowing that it would spark a debate that lasts for 3 whole pages.

Finally, in the very end, they decide to put it all behind them and start over. One would like to think that it would work out, but I highly doubt it.

That Evening the Sun Go Down

"That Evening Sun Go Down"

William Faulkner was an old Southern gentlemen from an old Southern family. This is evident in his works, which show a small Southern county and its transition from the old days to the new. In his story "That Evening Sun Go Down," this theme is prevalent.

"That Evening Sun Go Down" takes place 15 years prior to 1931, and depicts a wealthy Southern family and the Negros who live on their land. It's not a happy tale, per se, but instead one where fear runs rampant. But I digress. The point I wish to make, is that Faulkner casts a sharp contrast between the values of the Old South, and the changing values of the current times. He makes constant references to the differences between "whites" and "niggers," most markedly by the children in the story, saying "You were scairder than Frony. You were scairder than T.P. even. You were scairder than a nigger." (page 115, lines 27-28)

These are the white children saying this, comparing their younger brother to something clearly inferior. The youngest, Jason, vehemently denies this association, multiple times throughout the story, saying quite firmly, "I ain't a nigger." (page 117, line 29).

The "niggers" also make this distinction, most notably a line by the character Jubah, discussing how the white man can enter his home and it ceases to be Jubah's property (page 113, lines 29-33). Nancy too, makes comments about it--every page is chock-full of racial statements, so clearly defining the line between blacks and whites.

One might argue that Faulkner doesn't even bother to make a distinction between old and new values, that he simply glorifies the old values and makes no mention of the new. This assumption would be incorrect. The distinction is made in the first paragraph, when Faulkner is discussing life today (and by today, I mean 1931). He makes constant use of the word "now," distinguishing this part of the story from the rest. He draws a line, saying "...even the Negro women who still take in white people's washing after the old custom, fetch and deliver it in automobiles." He is stating quite clearly that even in this small Southern town, the dynamics have started to change. "Negros" have automobiles, and are no longer held to the same class level as they once were.

That is the distinction he makes. That is the contrast between old and new.

The 1920s

We read two stories from the 1920s--"Blood-Burning Moon," by Jean Toomer, and "The Killers," by Ernest Hemingway. I must confess, "Blood-Burning Moon" was definitely my favorite. While I admire Hemingway for his works, he is not my favorite author. I much prefer the lyrical beauty of Toomer's work to the austerity of Hemingway's. But that is mere personal preference, so now on with the point of this post. Because we didn't have time to finish it up in class, we are to use this post to answer two questions about the stories.

Firstly, we are to examine a line from "Blood-Burning Moon," and opine on why Toomer used the words he did. The quote is as follows.

"She was worth it. Beautiful nigger gal. Why nigger? Why not, just gal? No, it was because she was a nigger that he went to her."

I had a difficult time with this quote at first, unsure of how to answer it. Why does Bob Stone go to Louisa because she is "a nigger." I had to look at other passages to finally understand, and the one that stuck in my head was on pages 63-64, where Bob Stone is having an internal monologue about Louisa.

He is fighting with himself, fighting with the old Southern values and the new. He talks about Louisa from a master's point of view, talks about "taking her" with no pretense, "direct, honest, bold," but then merely a few sentences later, he blushes at the thought of his family knowing. He blushes--such a soft word for such a tense monologue. Why is that word chosen? It's a tender word, couldn't Toomer have used "colored?" His face colored at the thought? Perhaps even reddened, or heated...why blushed?

He used it for the same reason that he used the word "love" on page 64. "He was going to see Louisa tonight, and love her." Despite all his internal arguments, Bob Stone is in love with Louisa. She represents something he could never find with a white girl. She is dark and exotic, forbidden. She satisfies his need for power, after all, he is a white man, and she is only a "nigger gal." In that time, in that culture, he could do anything he wanted. Yet he chooses not to. He chooses to meet her in the canebrake, to sneak around and respect her need for secrecy.

Why? Because he cares for her.


Our second question is from "The Killers," by Ernest Hemingway. We are to discuss what Hemingway is telling/showing his audience about life in the 1920s. My answer was actually rather succinct.

The mob is everywhere. The 1920s were not all about flappers and speakeasies, they were also a dangerous time to be in. The rise of organized crime coupled with the prevalence of automobiles made the world a dangerous place to be. If you got into trouble, then the mob would surely track you down, and there was nothing you could do to stop it. You might as well make like Old Andreson and just plain old give up.

To be a little more in depth, he also almost glorifies the mobsters. They are the hardened criminals, while the other characters in the story are mere wet-behind-ears lads. They're naive and effeminate, and are treated as such by the author. He berates them, makes fun of them, and continuously treats them like idiots, a classic move for Hemingway.

There is also the element of racism, as is evidenced by the introduction of Sam, the diner's cook. It actually takes a good 17 lines to establish the fact that "the nigger" has a name.

To sum up, Hemingway has established a world where fear is a part of life. There are new methods of crime, and new avenues in which crime can be carried out. No matter where you are or how far you run, they will track you down and kill you.

Sure sounds like a fun place to be, if you ask me.

Biographical Mathematics

I was watching an episode of Numb3rs earlier, and it made me think of the stories we just read in class. We're working on analyzing stories using the historical/biographical critical theory, which is to say, using a combination of world events and the author's history to further understand the story.

With the first of our stories, "A Jury of Her Peers," this was fairly easy. We had an extensive biography on the author, Susan Glaspell, and were able to tie her life to her story.

Mary Lerner, the author of the second story, was a completely different situation. We didn't have any information on her. None at all. We could do a historical analysis of the text, but not a biographical. It made me wonder, as I was watching this particular episode of Numb3rs, if we could reverse the process...work backwards and instead of analyzing the stories from the author's life, determine the author's life from the stories.

I'm not a math person, I couldn't do it. Numbers and I, well, let's just say that we're not always the best of friends. Still, it made me think...what if it was possible to reverse the analysis? What if, somewhere, someone could write an equation that took all the information in the stories, extracted the common threads, and spat out a generalized biography? I don't know if it's possible, but it's something that made me stop and think.