<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1450417479771043159</id><updated>2012-02-16T11:03:07.850-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Anne Inkpen's Blog</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anneinkpen.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1450417479771043159/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anneinkpen.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Anne Inkpen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03983417522179328841</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>17</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1450417479771043159.post-2529231379790808504</id><published>2009-04-14T16:13:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-14T17:41:34.201-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Those Winter Sundays by Robert Hayden</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;Sundays too my father got up early&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;And put his clothes on in the blueback cold,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;then with cracked hands that ached&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;from labor in the weekday weather made&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;banked fires blaze. No one ever thanked him.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;I'd wake and hear the cold splintering, breaking.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;When the rooms were warm, he'd call,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;and slowly I would rise and dress,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;fearing the chronic angers of that house,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Speaking indifferently to him,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;who had driven out the cold&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;and polished my good shoes as well.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;What did I know, what did I know &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;of love's austere and lonely offices?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Those Winter Sundays written by Robert Hayden is spoken through the eyes of a grown-up man remembering his childhood and relationship with his father. It is evident that there was a distance between the father and son and very little communication, it is also clear, however subtly, through the sacrifices and suffering of the father that there was also love present.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In the first stanza the speaker points out that even though it is Sunday and his hands ached, his father is still the first to rise and make the house habitable on cold, “blueblack” mornings.  There are many examples of dramatic, vivid imagery such as “blueblack” which illustrates the bitter, numbing cold invading the house before sunlight has even warmed it and “cracked hands” telling the reader that the father works hard during the week, probably outside which again because of the season refers to the cold.  After such eloquence the bluntness in the last sentence, “no one ever thanked him”, makes the statement even stronger. This statement also tells the reader that everyone else in the house was unappreciative as the son was of everything his father did. The fact that the father is the first to rise and build the fire shows that there are no servants or central heating which implies the inhabitants are most likely poor.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In the second stanza the speaker is lying in the safety and warmth of his bed as he waits for his dad to warm the house and literally hears the cold “splintering” and “breaking” as his dad breaks wood for a fire. Figuratively also to the son the cold would appear to be “breaking” up and disappearing from the house. The extremity of these words adds to the drama of the poem and the father-son relationship. The “chronic angers of the house” could refer literally to the house meaning the creaking and cracking of old wood or the deterioration of a worn out house. Or the line could be more figurative, referring to the people within the house and possibly the anger of the father which could imply child abuse, however because of the love that is presented through the sacrifices of the father, I think it is the former.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The speaker has now risen and seen his father, “speaking indifferently to him”. The son uncaringly brushes him off, not realizing the sacrifices his father makes for his son because he loves him. Although the question, “what did I know?” could be viewed as an excuse but because the speaker was a kid at the time it is probably an honest question. The repetition furthers this assumption because it is true, how many kids realize the sacrifices parents make while the parents are making them and they are still children? The repeated question provides an accurate explanation for the son’s indifference. It also helps us understand why now as an adult the son can appreciate and respect his father because the son has finally grasped the reason his father “drove out the cold and polished [his] good shoes as well”. It was out of love. In the last line of the poem the term “offices” does not represent a room but instead a sense of authority and responsibility which can be applied to the father and his need to look out for his son. It brings to mind the phrase “it is lonely at the top” because children do not yet have the insight and experience to realize the different forms love can take. The son only sees the father’s austerity and distance from him and misses the subtle signs of love he displays through working hard for the family during the week, rising early, and polishing his son’s shoes. The son’s inability to grasp the meaning of those actions leads him to under appreciate his father and not return his love until he is older. This poem is a lament of the speaker’s failure to recognize his father’s attempts at showing his love as a child and therefore a sadness over the fact he never returned that love.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1450417479771043159-2529231379790808504?l=anneinkpen.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anneinkpen.blogspot.com/feeds/2529231379790808504/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1450417479771043159&amp;postID=2529231379790808504' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1450417479771043159/posts/default/2529231379790808504'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1450417479771043159/posts/default/2529231379790808504'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anneinkpen.blogspot.com/2009/04/those-winter-sundays-by-robert-hayden.html' title='Those Winter Sundays by Robert Hayden'/><author><name>Anne Inkpen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03983417522179328841</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1450417479771043159.post-8009553365632604427</id><published>2009-04-13T19:54:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-14T17:42:09.959-07:00</updated><title type='text'>AP Adventures</title><content type='html'>Unbeknownst to me my AP English adventures began in grade six when I decided to attempt to read all the “Penguin Classics” [that were in my school’s library]. My favorite was Jane Eyre and since then I have read it probably 20 times. Next I read Brideshead Revisited a few years later. I think I was too young to really enjoy it because it is one of my sister’s favorite books but I don’t remember much about it a.k.a. clearly was not a huge fan, so I might need to revisit that expedition. I read Anna Karenina this previous summer and thoroughly enjoyed reading about the aristocratic lives of nothingness [not being at all sarcastic]. Earlier this year I read A Farewell to Arms after reading and enjoying Son Also Rises last year. I like Hemingway’s straight forward writing style which appears simple, almost emotionless, but really hides a semi-autobiographical novel and a love story between Catherine and Henry. Most recently I’m reading Catch 22, Love In the Time of Cholera, and War and Peace. My sister has been encouraging me to read Catch 22 for a few years and I finally started, I’m not that far yet so maybe that is why I’m not a huge fan. I don’t like the character of Yossarian but I think that might be the point. I’m not far enough into the book to understand when he is being serious or not so I’m still slightly confused about what is going on. In Love in the Time of Cholera I’m about 100 pages in, so far enough to learn about the beginnings of Fermina Daza and Florentino Ariza’s love but not far enough to know what went awry and why she marries Dr. Urbino. I like Dr. Urbino with his eccentricities; his parrot, daily nap followed by a glass of lemonade, chess playing, and stubbornness. I’m not a huge fan of Marguez’s writing style, although it is very eloquent and filled with awesome descriptions, it takes him a little too long to say something. Compared to Anna Karenina War and Peace is The Terminator. Tolstoy mixes in some aristocratic fighting to the nothingness in War and Peace. So far I like Nikolai the best, even though I’m somewhat perplexed that he seems to go from 14 to 20 in a matter of months [but that may have been a misreading on my part]. Also somewhat confusing is that everyone is a prince or princess, Russia must have been teeming with them in the 1800s. I’ve also been reading World War Z: An Oral History of the Zombie War by Max Brooks which is really good. It’s written entirely through interviews from around the world of different people’s experiences of the zombie attacks [in this case the zombies are more like vampires, they don’t come back from the dead but they are bitten and then become “infected” with zombie-ism]. As well as finishing the Tristen and Isolde series, I actually just read the last one yesterday. As you can see, I still have not chosen a book to write my paper on, I would like to use War and Peace but it’s questionable whether I will finish it so I’ll most likely use A Farewell to Arms or finish Catch-22.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1450417479771043159-8009553365632604427?l=anneinkpen.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anneinkpen.blogspot.com/feeds/8009553365632604427/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1450417479771043159&amp;postID=8009553365632604427' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1450417479771043159/posts/default/8009553365632604427'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1450417479771043159/posts/default/8009553365632604427'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anneinkpen.blogspot.com/2009/04/ap-adventures.html' title='AP Adventures'/><author><name>Anne Inkpen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03983417522179328841</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1450417479771043159.post-6691135722022652990</id><published>2009-03-09T16:24:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-09T16:36:08.028-07:00</updated><title type='text'>What went wrong with Biff?</title><content type='html'>I think that Biff's breaking point occurred after he failed high school math and then decided to visit his father and discovered "The Woman." Willy had always been a hero in Biff's eyes; a popular salesman that was welcomed in every town and adored by his wife and sons at home. He joked around with the boys, he encouraged Biff in football, and joked about girls with him. Like Linda once says there was never a father more loved by his sons. However, Willy taught Biff and Happy to think the most of themselves in a way that made them rebellious rather than giving them high/healthy self-esteem. Willy also thought so highly of his sons that he could not realize their faults. When Bernard warned Willy that Biff was failing math, Willy said not to worry, no one would fail Biff with all those scholarships rather than encouraging his son to try harder and study more. When Linda said Biff was getting a reputation of being to rough with the girls, Willy laughed and said that's his son. Willy pumped himself and his sons so full of confidence that when Biff discovered Willy with the girl and realized Willy was a phony, everything he had believed before became a lie. Biff became lost, floating from job to job, not taking orders from anyone but himself but having no orders to set himself straight. Biff was floundering but Willy only saw this as spite towards himself because Biff was angry at him. Biff and Willy never talked about what happened and never came to terms with it, this was their destruction. In the end Biff finally realizes he's just a "dollar an hour" kinda guy and that he is ok with that but Willy still cannot accept the truth which eventually leads to his death.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1450417479771043159-6691135722022652990?l=anneinkpen.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anneinkpen.blogspot.com/feeds/6691135722022652990/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1450417479771043159&amp;postID=6691135722022652990' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1450417479771043159/posts/default/6691135722022652990'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1450417479771043159/posts/default/6691135722022652990'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anneinkpen.blogspot.com/2009/03/what-went-wrong-with-biff.html' title='What went wrong with Biff?'/><author><name>Anne Inkpen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03983417522179328841</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1450417479771043159.post-3806555869063052444</id><published>2009-02-23T17:42:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-23T17:42:47.885-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Nora's Epiphany</title><content type='html'>#5. Eric Bentley, in an essay titles “Ibsen, pro, and Con”, criticizes the character Krogstad, calling him a “mere pawn of the plot”. He then adds, “When convenient to Ibsen, he is a blackmailer. When inconvenient, he is converted.” Do I disagree or agree?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Although I do think Krgostad’s change of heart in the end is rather miraculous and Krogstad is used as a simple solution to one conflict in the play, I will challenge Bentley’s statement for two reasons. Firstly, however small the refernence is, Ibsen does recognize Mrs. Linde and Krogstad’s former acquaintance in the Act I and therefore possibly alluding to a connection later in the play. Secondly, I do not think that blackmail, debt, and forgery are the main themes of the plot. Even though the majority of the play is centered around Nora’s dilemma [her debt to Krogstad, keeping it secret from her husband, and the forged IOU] and a way to fix it, I think that the change that Nora experiences throughout the play is the more central theme. With or without Krogstad’s decision to send the IOU back, I think that Nora would still have grown as a person and realized her marriage to Helmer is a sham and she has a duty to herself to be happy. For example, hypothetically if Krogstad had not sent back the IOU and remained the evil person he appeared to be throughout the play, Nora still would have had her moment of realization, her epiphany one could say. Nora realized Helmer was not the man she thought he was when he did not sacrifice his own honor to spare Nora’s when he received Krogstad’s letter explaining what Nora had done. Nora thought she had married her hero, “it never so much as crossed my mind that you [Helmer] would ever submit to the man’s [Krogstad’s] conditions … when the miracle didn’t happen it was then I realized you weren’t the man I thought you were.” Once the delusion of Helmer as her savior is shattered, Nora sees she has been living a lie. She realizes that everything she has done was under the pretense of keeping her “happy” marriage alive but underneath that lie there was nothing at all. Nora also realizes that “first and foremost [she] is an individual” and that she must “think things out for [herself] and get things clear.” I think that Nora’s epiphany is the main theme of the play and therefore this challenges Bentley’s statement because although a pawn, Krogstad is not central to the major theme of the play, and since Nora realizes the falsity of her life before the IOU is returned, Krogstad and his flighty change of heart are merely foils to continue the plot and create a resolution to one dilemma of the play, the issue of the debt and the IOU but not the main dilemma, which is resolved regardless of Krogstad but between Nora and Helmer.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1450417479771043159-3806555869063052444?l=anneinkpen.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anneinkpen.blogspot.com/feeds/3806555869063052444/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1450417479771043159&amp;postID=3806555869063052444' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1450417479771043159/posts/default/3806555869063052444'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1450417479771043159/posts/default/3806555869063052444'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anneinkpen.blogspot.com/2009/02/noras-epiphany.html' title='Nora&apos;s Epiphany'/><author><name>Anne Inkpen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03983417522179328841</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1450417479771043159.post-3294293441042445331</id><published>2009-02-02T13:31:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-02T13:59:05.380-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Hamlet and Ophelia</title><content type='html'>I read both "Hamlet and Ophelia" by Rebecca West and "Producing Hamlet" by Jan Kott, both articles present a different opinion on the relationship of Ophelia and Hamlet. West holds the opinion that Ophelia is "not a chaste young woman ... shown by her tolerance of Hamlet's obscene conversations." West says that Ophelia is "foredoomed" by her father to be a mere pawn in the court. The affection between Hamlet and Ophelia is spurred on by Polonius's desire to gain favor with the prince; Ophelia is one of the "poor little girls who were sacrificed to family ambition in the days when the court was a cat's cradle of conspiracies." There is no true affection between Ophelia and Hamlet, Ophelia is only following her father's orders to either become Hamlet's mistress or when/if Hamlet falls out of favor then act as a spy for the King. On the other hand, Kott maintains that Hamlet truly loves Ophelia but "he has more important matters to attend to." Their love is fated to end because "in a world where murder holds sway, there is no room for love." Hamlet also knows he is perpetually being watched, when he dramatically cries "Get thee to a nunnery!" it is addressed to everyone listening not just to Ophelia. For the rest of the world, that cry confirms Hamlet's madness caused by his obsession with Ophelia and for Ophelia it proves that their love does not hold sway in such corrupt world. &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1450417479771043159-3294293441042445331?l=anneinkpen.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anneinkpen.blogspot.com/feeds/3294293441042445331/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1450417479771043159&amp;postID=3294293441042445331' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1450417479771043159/posts/default/3294293441042445331'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1450417479771043159/posts/default/3294293441042445331'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anneinkpen.blogspot.com/2009/02/hamlet-and-ophelia.html' title='Hamlet and Ophelia'/><author><name>Anne Inkpen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03983417522179328841</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1450417479771043159.post-6574427332134762460</id><published>2009-01-19T18:14:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-19T18:54:29.674-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Oedipus: Eternally the Hero</title><content type='html'>#9. What are your feelings towards Oedipus and Creon as the play ends?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oedipus unknowingly committed incest and murdered his father. Oedipus was oblivious to his true parentage and therefore, you could argue, completely innocent. However, Oedipus remains the hero because he sticks to his word. He said that no matter who the murderer was, he/she would suffer the same, harsh punishment. When Oedipus learns the truth he asks/commands Creon to exile him and gauges his eyes out. As king, Oedipus could have easily denied the truth and killed anyone who opposed him but instead he punishes himself like he would have anyone else. This ends Oedipus's rule of Thebes, but it shows that Oedipus has the strength and courage to be king.  Although Creon denies his plans to overthrow Oedipus and any desire to be king, his fast action after Oedipus is disgraced proves he was lying. Even though Creon may never have overtly tried to seize the throne from Oedipus, his falseness and his readiness in agreeing to exile Oedipus prove his disloyalty. This contrasts Oedipus and Creon. On the outside and through his words, Creon rivals Oedipus but through his actions Creon falls short. Oedipus's ability to follow through with his actions proves he is the eternal hero and better man in the story.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1450417479771043159-6574427332134762460?l=anneinkpen.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anneinkpen.blogspot.com/feeds/6574427332134762460/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1450417479771043159&amp;postID=6574427332134762460' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1450417479771043159/posts/default/6574427332134762460'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1450417479771043159/posts/default/6574427332134762460'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anneinkpen.blogspot.com/2009/01/oedipus-eternally-hero.html' title='Oedipus: Eternally the Hero'/><author><name>Anne Inkpen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03983417522179328841</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1450417479771043159.post-5185064977441241079</id><published>2009-01-12T19:20:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-12T19:35:57.778-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The Death of Ivan Ilyich</title><content type='html'>Tolstoy condemns “Ivan Ilyich’s opportunism, marriage of convenience, vanity, and limitation, and then, with astonishment, the reader finds himself beginning to like this conventional man and to be sorry when he starts to lose out to death.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tolstoy introduces Ilyich as a care-free, pleasure loving follower. He lives his life in a way that society dictates he should. He takes the sort of job that is appropriate to his standing, he marries because she is a "good match", and he decorates his house just like everyone else trying to appear richer than they are. And yet as this stereotypical man nears death he begins to re-evaluate his life. Ilyich attempts to figure out what went wrong in his life, why he is suffering from such a great pain now; if it is punishment for something? Ilyich struggles to think about his life objectively, however, his society's dogma has been so deeply ingrained in his mind that he cannot bring himself to admit that living any other way could possible have been better. But as Ilyich looks further back on his life, all the way back to childhood, he notices that he can remember more "good" in his childhood memories. As the memories become more recent there is less and less Ilyich remembers as good. This is when the first inkling of doubt appears in his mind; that possibly there could have been another, better way to live his life. When Ilyich begins to realize and grasp the truth, the reader begins to sympathize with this man who is finally realizing how he could improve his life on the brink of death.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1450417479771043159-5185064977441241079?l=anneinkpen.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anneinkpen.blogspot.com/feeds/5185064977441241079/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1450417479771043159&amp;postID=5185064977441241079' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1450417479771043159/posts/default/5185064977441241079'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1450417479771043159/posts/default/5185064977441241079'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anneinkpen.blogspot.com/2009/01/death-of-ivan-ilyich.html' title='The Death of Ivan Ilyich'/><author><name>Anne Inkpen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03983417522179328841</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1450417479771043159.post-6471170574548338785</id><published>2008-12-08T11:30:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-08T11:35:50.687-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Compare and Contrast</title><content type='html'>In Heart of Darkness and Waiting for the Barbarians both Kurtz and the Magistrate have left their “people” behind. They have strayed away from the dogma of their cultures, daring to think and act differently than the norm. Kurtz and the Magistrate do this each in their own forms of madness. Kurtz literally loses his mind. He is leaves his men and travels back in the wilderness by himself and proceeds to go mad. He continues to collect ivory for the empire but in unorthodox, unapproved ways. Kurtz also takes on a leadership role over the “savages” and abuses the power they bestows upon him. The Magistrate falls in love with the girl and I think this shows the Magistrate the receiving end of the Imperial whip. This realization of the horror of the Empire is what causes him to go against the ways of the Empire and “his people”. However, Kurtz and the Magistrate are also abandoned by their people. It was not a conscious choice for them to alienate themselves but instead the ways they changed their thinking caused “their people” to think they were mad and in some ways contaminated or unclean. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As Kerr says, Conrad and Kurtz are both “liberal imperialists.” They are part of the Empire but represent a humanity not present in many of the power-hungry imperialists, however, they both use this humanizing quality differently.  The humanizing quality gives the Magistrate and Kurtz a sort of power over the savages and barbarians. The savages and barbarians see the Magistrate and Kurtz as less threatening and therefore listen to them before the rest of the imperials. Kurtz takes advantage of this power by imagining himself omnipotent. He makes the savages worship him and treat him somewhat like a god. On the other hand, the Magistrate uses this humanizing quality correctly. He tries to alleviate the suffering brought on to the barbarians by the harsh Colonel. The Magistrate speaks out against the Colonel publicly and attempts to defy him.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1450417479771043159-6471170574548338785?l=anneinkpen.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anneinkpen.blogspot.com/feeds/6471170574548338785/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1450417479771043159&amp;postID=6471170574548338785' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1450417479771043159/posts/default/6471170574548338785'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1450417479771043159/posts/default/6471170574548338785'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anneinkpen.blogspot.com/2008/12/compare-and-contrast.html' title='Compare and Contrast'/><author><name>Anne Inkpen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03983417522179328841</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1450417479771043159.post-3224004360219909962</id><published>2008-12-01T11:27:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-02T11:12:38.522-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Convenience and Companionship vs. Affection: Waiting for the Barbarians</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(68, 68, 68); font-family: 'Segoe UI'; font-size: 13px; "&gt;&lt;p class="EC_MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 1.35em; margin-left: 0px; "&gt;One of the most intriguing aspects of Waiting for the Barbarians I found was the relationship between the Magistrate and the barbarian girl. It seems to evolve out of habit and desire for some sort of convenient companionship rather than affection except when the Magistrate returns her to the barbarians he openly shows that he cares for the girl when he tells her he would like her to stay. Throughout their whole affair the Magistrate seems more annoyed and angry with the girl instead of being interested in pursuing a romantic relationship with her but when it is time to say goodbye he shows there is more to it. I think that the Magistrate is drawn to the fact that the girl is damaged, she is complicated and therefore holds intrigue for him. The girl is a mystery that he wants to solve and then fix, he hopes and wants to be her white knight. I think he expects the girl to become dependent on him and to need his help to heal, however, although the girl seems to improve when she is with the Magistrate she still has not opened up to him and let him in on the secret of what happened to her with the colonel. I think that because she does not open up, he sees that as a failure on his part. The Magistrate feels he was unable to help her or maybe she did not really need his help as much as he expected and that is what contributes to a lot of the anger and frustration he puts on himself over her.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="EC_MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 1.35em; margin-left: 0px; "&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="EC_MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 1.35em; margin-left: 0px; "&gt;On the girl's part she also doesn't really show any interest in the romantic aspect of the relationship (even in the end when he does) but rather that she is in a strange place left by her own people and the Magistrate is offering to help her and she realizes she must return the favor somewhat(although she does not seem ungrateful, just emotionally indifferent to him). It is rather odd though that the girl gets angry and confused and maybe even jealous when she realizes the Magistrate has been visiting the girl at the inn. Although that is one of the few times that the girl seems to question what there relationship is about, otherwise it seems to be mostly the Magistrate who is puzzling over it and trying to figure out what he sees in the girl and what he wants from her. I also found it interesting that although the girl becomes the "girl without a face" to the Magistrate he still always remembers her and the impression she left on him. Also, even though in essence she is the reason he lost his position and was imprisoned it does not seem like the Magistrate resents her or her roll in his humiliation and degradation.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="EC_MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 1.35em; margin-left: 0px; "&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="EC_MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 1.35em; margin-left: 0px; "&gt;*** Sorry I did not get this to you earlier, my sister does not have internet at her apartment in Paris. Also, the movie with the silkies in Ireland is called "The Secret of Ron Inish"&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1450417479771043159-3224004360219909962?l=anneinkpen.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anneinkpen.blogspot.com/feeds/3224004360219909962/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1450417479771043159&amp;postID=3224004360219909962' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1450417479771043159/posts/default/3224004360219909962'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1450417479771043159/posts/default/3224004360219909962'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anneinkpen.blogspot.com/2008/12/convenience-and-companionship-vs.html' title='Convenience and Companionship vs. Affection: Waiting for the Barbarians'/><author><name>Anne Inkpen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03983417522179328841</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1450417479771043159.post-7195787619556060468</id><published>2008-11-13T20:39:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-17T13:50:06.243-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The Congo Diary - Joseph Conrad</title><content type='html'>13th of June, 1890&lt;br /&gt;       -“Think Just now that my life amongst (white) around here cannot be very comfortable. Intend to avoid acquaintances as much as possible.”&lt;div&gt;* In &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Heart of Darkness&lt;/span&gt; Marlow also finds life amongst the other whites rather unbearable and refers to the whites condescendingly as "pilgrims".&lt;br /&gt;Saturday 28th of June&lt;br /&gt;          -“Danes join company.”&lt;br /&gt;Monday 30th&lt;br /&gt;         -“To Congo da Lemba after passing black rocks long ascent … Bother. Camp bad. Water far. Dirty.&lt;br /&gt;1st of July&lt;br /&gt;          -“V.[ery] G.[ood] Bath. Clear river. Feel well. 1st chicken. No sunshine today.”&lt;div&gt;* I noticed that in &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Heart of Darkness&lt;/span&gt; Conrad also sometimes employs simple one word sentences to show emotions or actions. &lt;br /&gt;Wednesday, 2nd July&lt;br /&gt;           -“Danes still in Company.”&lt;div&gt;*I thought this was interesting because in the &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Heart of Darkness&lt;/span&gt;, Conrad also comments on the presence of Danes.&lt;br /&gt;Friday, 4th July&lt;br /&gt;            -“Saw another dead body lying by the path in an attitude of meditative repose. In the  evening three women of whom one albino passed our camp … Mosquitos. At night when the moon rose heard shouts and drumming in distant villages.”&lt;br /&gt;Saturday, 5th July&lt;br /&gt;         -“Today fell into a muddy puddle. Beastly. The fault of the man that carried me. After camp[in]g went to a small stream, bathed and washed clothes. Getting jolly well sick of this fun.”&lt;br /&gt;Tuesday, 8th July&lt;br /&gt;          -“The country presents a confused wilderness of hills, land slips, on their sides showing red. Fine effect of red hill covered in places by dark green vegetation. ½ before beginning descent got a glimpse of the Congo.”&lt;br /&gt;Friday, the 25th July&lt;br /&gt;           -“Harou lame and not in very good form. Myself ditto but not lame.”&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1450417479771043159-7195787619556060468?l=anneinkpen.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anneinkpen.blogspot.com/feeds/7195787619556060468/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1450417479771043159&amp;postID=7195787619556060468' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1450417479771043159/posts/default/7195787619556060468'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1450417479771043159/posts/default/7195787619556060468'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anneinkpen.blogspot.com/2008/11/congo-diary-joseph-conrad.html' title='The Congo Diary - Joseph Conrad'/><author><name>Anne Inkpen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03983417522179328841</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1450417479771043159.post-6141347198968436463</id><published>2008-11-06T17:05:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-06T19:08:13.398-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Benjy's Rut</title><content type='html'>An event that provides closure to the story is when Luster diverges from the normal route and Benjy has a minor heart attach. Benjy's whole life has been centered around order yet chaos has always surrounded him. Benjy loves routines; he stays content with routines. He goes the same way to the graveyard every week, Dilsey always opens the stove for him to watch the fire, he watches the golfers with Luster every week, etc. Benjy would be happy living in his own rut but since Caddy left Benjy has been faced with chaos and confusion. First with the disappearance of Caddy and the arrival of Miss Quentin, next Quentin, and shortly after Father. In the book, Benjy's last blow-up and his quick return to complacency when his routine is returned to, symbolizes a chance at a "new beginning" for Benjy, a return to his life routine. With Miss Quentin gone, Jason worried about his "stolen" money, and Mother's hypochondria absorbing all her attention, Benjy will finally be left alone to live contently in his rut. This is also linked to the last day of the book being on Easter Sunday which references the resurrection and a "re-birth" or new beginning.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1450417479771043159-6141347198968436463?l=anneinkpen.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anneinkpen.blogspot.com/feeds/6141347198968436463/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1450417479771043159&amp;postID=6141347198968436463' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1450417479771043159/posts/default/6141347198968436463'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1450417479771043159/posts/default/6141347198968436463'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anneinkpen.blogspot.com/2008/11/benjys-rut.html' title='Benjy&apos;s Rut'/><author><name>Anne Inkpen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03983417522179328841</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1450417479771043159.post-6013025436302858544</id><published>2008-10-27T07:44:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-27T07:45:33.635-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Faulkner's Use of Folklore</title><content type='html'>Faulkner’s Use of Folklore in The Sound and the Fury&lt;br /&gt;Charles D. Peavy&lt;br /&gt;The Journal of American Folklore, Vol. 79, No. 313&lt;br /&gt;Published by: University of Illinois Press&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Summary:&lt;br /&gt;According to this article, Faulkner used an extensive amount of folklore in the novel. Peavy is attempting to educate the reader on the symbols used throughout the story and their links to Southern regional and African American folk beliefs.  By doing so, Peavy places more meaning behind recurring symbols in the novel such as the jimson weed which are not superficially apparent without outside knowledge.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I found this article particularly intriguing because it explained the deeper significance of  Benjy’s obsession with flowers. Firstly, Peavy discusses the jimson weed. Peavy points out that the weed is extremely poisonous which made it surprising that Benjy is given the weed to play with. Peavy also suggests that since the weed is extremely “odoriferous (like the honeysuckle identified with Quentin) and is sometimes called stinkweed” it “is an ironic symbol of the loss of Caddy, “who smelled like trees.” In the Appellation region, the closed jimson weed bloom is a symbol of the male sex organ. Peavy notes that Faulkner was “doubtlessly aware of the phallic implications of the closed jimson flower clutched in the fist of the castrated Benjy.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Another flower associated with Benjy is the narcissus which traditionally symbolizes egotism and conceit. In Benjy’s case, Peavy claims the flower, like Benjy himself, symbolizes the world’s selfishness and also its need for love. In reference to Mrs. Compson, Quentin, and Jason, the flower symbolizes a self-love that is also destructive. Benjy’s eyes are described as “cornflower blue” which symbolizes Benjy’s innocence since another common name for the cornflower is Innocence.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1450417479771043159-6013025436302858544?l=anneinkpen.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anneinkpen.blogspot.com/feeds/6013025436302858544/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1450417479771043159&amp;postID=6013025436302858544' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1450417479771043159/posts/default/6013025436302858544'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1450417479771043159/posts/default/6013025436302858544'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anneinkpen.blogspot.com/2008/10/faulkners-use-of-folklore.html' title='Faulkner&apos;s Use of Folklore'/><author><name>Anne Inkpen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03983417522179328841</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1450417479771043159.post-7847116318429078340</id><published>2008-09-30T16:47:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-03T08:12:26.351-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Emotional Ghostliness</title><content type='html'>“They carried the common secret of cowardice barely restrained … in many respects this was the heaviest burden of all, for it could never be put down, it required perfect balance and perfect posture (77).” The soldiers in The Things They Carried share the common fear of embarrassment and dishonor. They did not join the army for heroics or to achieve valor but because “men killed, and died, because they were embarrassed not to … to avoid the blush of dishonor (77).” The men in this story were “tough”; they talked big and made themselves laugh. They kicked the heads of dead men, cut off thumbs, and joked about their fear, taking the meaning and hurt out of death. “They were actors”, masking the truth and burying emotion. “It was not courage, exactly; the object was not valor. Rather, they were too frightened to be cowards (77).” Too afraid to let reality get past their crude jokes and harsh language. Feeling was cowardice, crying was for girls; they were men, meant to go to war and to kill. But in reality, embarrassment was not what they were scared of, the soldiers were scared that if they stopped denying what was going on around them - what has happening to their friends - it would destroy them.  The men became emotional ghosts; feeling no pain and living superficially was better than thinking about the destruction and death going on around them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;       After Ted Lavender’s death, the soldier Kiowa attempts to talk with another soldier, Norman Bowker, about Lavender’s death, but Bowker just cuts him off and tells him to shut up (45). Bowker doesn’t want to think about their comrade’s death anymore than he has to and in any greater depth than the facts: he got shot, he’s dead, that’s that. Later when Kiowa thinks about Ted Lavender’s death on his own, the strongest emotion he can feel is relief and happiness that he is still alive. Kiowa is ashamed, thinking it is unchristian, that he can’t feel anything more about Lavender’s death than surprise at the quickness of his death, the “Boom-dead”.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;       On the other hand, Lavender’s death is the last bullet that breaks down Lieutenant Jimmy Cross’s tough-guy façade. Guilt and self-recrimination seep through the unfeeling, mental blockade Cross had enforced with the help from his fantasies of Martha. Before Lavender’s death, Cross used his obsession with Martha as an emotional buffer. All his emotions were consumed with the happy memories of Martha, his love for her, their one date, dreams of her falling in love with him, etc. These dreams distracted Cross and repelled reality. Cross did not think about the death around him because he was too busy worrying about the death of Martha’s virginity. Lavender’s death, however, is a reality check for Cross. Although it is not his fault, Cross blames himself and “Martha the buffer” for Lavender’s death; “He felt shame. He hated himself. He had loved Martha more than his men, and as a consequence Lavender was now dead.” Once Cross blamed Martha, he let go of her and his buffer was gone. Cross is left emotionally naked to face the onslaught of emotion caused by Lavender’s death. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;          The other men are still holding on to their Marthas. Cross, as their leader, is somewhat of an emotional shield for all of them. Since Cross has let his own defense down, he is also essentially no longer a bulwark for the other soldiers. Once Cross lets go of Martha and sees reality clearly again, he is determined to stop dreaming and “comport himself as an officer (99).”  None of his soldier’s safety would every be risked again because he couldn’t accept what was really going on. If he was going to start accepting the harsh reality, his men sure as hell would too.  He was also going to take away their buffers; the remainder of Lavender’s weed, stop allowing the soldiers to lighten their loads along the trek, insist on clean weapons. Even though his men would see it as punishment, Cross did not do this to reprimand his men but because, those Marthas, those buffers, were distracting his men – as they had distracted him – and making a dangerous situation fatal.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Discussion Questions:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- To what extent do you think other men are holding onto their emotional buffers too?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-What is the significance of the switch in perspectives from Jimmy Cross's to Kiowa's perspective?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-What is O'Brien's purpose in listing both the material and emotional burdens of the soldiers?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- How does Cross see Lavender's death as a second chance at leading his men better? And how will getting rid of Martha help Cross pay more attention to his men?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1450417479771043159-7847116318429078340?l=anneinkpen.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anneinkpen.blogspot.com/feeds/7847116318429078340/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1450417479771043159&amp;postID=7847116318429078340' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1450417479771043159/posts/default/7847116318429078340'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1450417479771043159/posts/default/7847116318429078340'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anneinkpen.blogspot.com/2008/09/emotional-ghostliness.html' title='Emotional Ghostliness'/><author><name>Anne Inkpen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03983417522179328841</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1450417479771043159.post-6385615764104783731</id><published>2008-09-27T20:31:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-27T20:35:18.651-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Mirthless, Animalistic, Hair-raising, Haunting, Sinister</title><content type='html'>“The last sound I expected to hear in so still a region, a laugh … a curios laugh; distinct formal, mirthless. It passed off in a clamorous peal that seemed to wake an echo in every lonely chamber … for the laugh was as tragic, as preternatural a laugh as any I ever heard … circumstance of ghostliness accompanied the curious cachinnation (Bronte 159).”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“When you follow the lame uncertain curves for a little distance they suddenly commit suicide – plunge off at outrageous angles, destroy themselves in unheard-of contradictions (Gilman 33).”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“The night – its silence – its rest, was rent in twain by a savage, a sharp, a shrill sound that ran from end to end … whatever being uttered that feared shriek could not soon repeat it: not the widest-winged condor on the Andes could, twice in succession, send out such a yell from the cloud shrouding his eyrie … a shout of laughter greeted his entrance; noisy at first, and terminating in [a] goblin’s ha! Ha! &lt;em&gt;She&lt;/em&gt; then was there (Bronte 299)”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“For outside you have to creep on the ground, and everything is green instead of yellow. But here I can creep smoothly on the floor, and my shoulder fits in that long smooch around the wall, so I cannot lose the way … Now why should that man have fainted? But he did, and right across my path by the wall, so that I had to creep over him every time (Gilman 260)!”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“In the deep shade, a figure ran backwards and forwards … whether beast or human being, one could not, at first sight, tell: it groveled, seemingly on all fours; it snatched and growled like some strange wild animal (Bronte 418).”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The eerie, hair-prickling sensation inspired by all of these quotes could imply they are from the same novel, however they are from two totally separate stories. Yet both have a creepy, haunting air to them. Unlike a traditional horror story with an excess of blood and gore and incessant killing when a character becomes useless, these stories use insanity and mystery to instill fear within the reader. Although I have read &lt;em&gt;Jane Eyre&lt;/em&gt; numerous times, Bertha Mason and her evil laugh never cease to give me the chills. I’ve even had a dream where a Mrs. Rochester-like figure set fire to my room, except no doting Jane Eyre was there to rescue me. The mystery surrounding Bertha’s incontrollable, animalistic madness for most of the story dramatizes Bertha and increases the reader’s fear without actually stating there is something to fear. In &lt;em&gt;The Yellow Wallpaper&lt;/em&gt;, Gilman also uses madness to creep the reader out. She follows the narrator’s path to complete insanity in the story. The increasing possibility of the narrator’s going totally insane and her obsession with the only thing in the room, the wallpaper, almost cause the reader to go crazy with the narrator. The focus only on one object in the story and the hidden woman behind the wallpaper and the use of exclamation marks show the narrator’s increased boredom and the emotional excitement that comes with being cooped up with no distractions for a long period of time. (527)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1450417479771043159-6385615764104783731?l=anneinkpen.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anneinkpen.blogspot.com/feeds/6385615764104783731/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1450417479771043159&amp;postID=6385615764104783731' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1450417479771043159/posts/default/6385615764104783731'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1450417479771043159/posts/default/6385615764104783731'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anneinkpen.blogspot.com/2008/09/mirthless-animalistic-hair-raising.html' title='Mirthless, Animalistic, Hair-raising, Haunting, Sinister'/><author><name>Anne Inkpen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03983417522179328841</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1450417479771043159.post-1756770358051620042</id><published>2008-09-21T21:56:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-21T21:57:40.269-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Do I have something in my teeth? Oh..not quite.</title><content type='html'>Last Thursday I had a swim meet and my parents ate early so I had to get my own dinner. I decided to pick something up at Aj’s. I parked, checked that my hair wasn’t all over the place [I had the windows down], grabbed my purse, and locked my car. I walk in to the store and begin to peruse, however, I could sense some interesting stares directed my way. Hmm that’s odd, it can’t be my hair, I checked that. I look down, yes, I have shoes on. A little further up … Ah, that is why. I’m still wearing my towel and my one piece swim suit and that’s about it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A week or so earlier, it was a Friday and there was a soccer game going on. I decided to meet Jess down there after swim practice. I wasn’t planning on staying too long so I didn’t bother changing out of my practice suit [I wear a two piece just so I don’t get a ridiculous tan]. I just slipped on a pair of shorts and threw my hair up in a ponytail and headed down to the game. Hmm, Jess is sitting on the third set of bleachers. That means I have to walk past the first set, the set packed with parents, and the second set, the set teachers are crammed onto. Feeling extremely awkward, I attempted to strategically position my arms to cover my stop and avoided making eye contact as I walked towards the third bleacher.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It’s interesting how a swim suit is a perfectly acceptable, and that actually any other attire would really be unacceptable, at the beach or at the swimming pool but taken out of context, a swim suit can be considered scandalous, inappropriate apparel. The three girls in A &amp;amp; P, clearly were just running an errand for their mother [what teenage really just buys “fancy herring snacks”?] and had probably been at the beach or on their way to the beach when the mother asked them to run to the store. Just like me, they didn’t even consider that their clothing would be inappropriate because where they had been it was what they should have been wearing. I think that it was not the girls intension to wear swim suits to get attention or impress anyone, instead they forgot what they were wearing until it was rather brutally called to their attention by Lengel, the manager, when he scolded them. The girls blushed and tried to explain that they were just running a quick errand, implying swim suits and bare feet were not what they would normally wear for a trip to the A &amp;amp; P. Although no one said anything to me directly, I did experience some interesting looks and feel more than slightly awkward. Except why is it that a swim suit is completely fine to wear in the pool, even when adults or teachers are around, but about 300 yards away on the soccer field, it is inappropriate? Although I would not regularly walk around with my entire midriff exposed, it is just my standard uniform for swim practice and when it is obvious that I’m coming from something where it is totally normal, just like the girls in A &amp;amp; P who were coming from the beach, why should anyone judge or feel awkward? If the judgers had been at the beach, the meet, or swim practice they would not even bat an eye at someone in a swim suit. It is just interesting how standards are different for everything from clothing and places, to culture and even standards for girls and boys are sometimes different. (614)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1450417479771043159-1756770358051620042?l=anneinkpen.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anneinkpen.blogspot.com/feeds/1756770358051620042/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1450417479771043159&amp;postID=1756770358051620042' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1450417479771043159/posts/default/1756770358051620042'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1450417479771043159/posts/default/1756770358051620042'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anneinkpen.blogspot.com/2008/09/do-i-have-something-in-my-teeth-ohnot.html' title='Do I have something in my teeth? Oh..not quite.'/><author><name>Anne Inkpen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03983417522179328841</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1450417479771043159.post-7043004736647678923</id><published>2008-09-13T15:30:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-27T07:49:30.780-07:00</updated><title type='text'>5.15 - The Who, "My Generation"</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zUl9Tum0BMg"&gt;http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zUl9Tum0BMg&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In response to “Teenage Wasteland”:&lt;br /&gt;As a mother it is Mrs. Johnson’s first priority to “mother”. I believe that the way different members of the family act greatly effects the other members. Home is where children spend the majority of their time and their parents and siblings are the people they see most frequently. Speaking from experience, I know what it is like not to want to come home, like Donny. To feel like a dark cloud is constantly looming over your house, no matter how bright and sunny it is in reality. Once you step through that door, the atmosphere and your emotions/attitude immediately darken to match the gloomy feeling in the air. It is almost like dementors [magical creatures in Harry Potter who literarily suck the happiness and warmth from the air] have become the resident gargoyles around your house. To know that as soon as you enter that house, no matter how much you fight it, you’re fighting the inevitable, you will enter “grumpville”. It is horrible, to feel that everything would just be better if you could only escape this dark cloud, your home, your supposed sanctuary. Now, why does a house come under this dark cloud? Maybe because of fighting, divorce, financial troubles, etc.: the soap opera issues. Or maybe as in “Teenage Wasteland” because someone in the house has given up. I believe that Mrs. Johnson has forgotten/given up her role as a mother, as the adult. Mrs. Johnson thinks she has failed as a mother, which she has because she has stopped being one. Mrs. Johnson simply gives up, she sees that she has failed and succumbs to hopelessness and self-pity. Mrs. Johnson does nothing to correct the situation with her son, instead she hands over her job as a mother to Cal. She hides behind the inadequate solution of a tutor, pretending everything is alright. Even when someone [Donny’s teacher] tells Mrs. Johnson directly that she needs to step up and help Donny, Mrs. Johnson still refuses to accept the truth. The truth that she is part of and a cause of Donny’s unhappiness and unruliness.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;By not helping herself Mrs. Johnson is also affecting the way Donny acts. When someone you are constantly around and emotionally attached to, like a mother, is unhappy and is letting herself fall apart, it affects you too. Mothers are supposed to be people that you can look up to and that you can go to for help, someone with the answers and someone children can rely on. Except how can a child like Donny go to his mother for help when she can’t even help herself? I think it is selfish, sad, and pathetic when people do not help themselves and instead decide to wallow in self-pity, to just give up. Of course that person is not expected to do everything themselves but no one can help you if you do not decide to help yourself and realize you need help first. As the adult it is Mrs. Johnson’s job to get the help she needs then properly help her son. Her feeling of self-pity and unhappiness affects and “rubs off” on everyone else in the house. Her depression and hopelessness are the dementors in the house. [534]&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1450417479771043159-7043004736647678923?l=anneinkpen.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anneinkpen.blogspot.com/feeds/7043004736647678923/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1450417479771043159&amp;postID=7043004736647678923' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1450417479771043159/posts/default/7043004736647678923'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1450417479771043159/posts/default/7043004736647678923'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anneinkpen.blogspot.com/2008/09/515-who-my-generation.html' title='5.15 - The Who, &quot;My Generation&quot;'/><author><name>Anne Inkpen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03983417522179328841</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1450417479771043159.post-371059990109111353</id><published>2008-08-26T16:59:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-26T18:01:00.204-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Summer Reading</title><content type='html'>This summer I took it upon myself to read &lt;em&gt;Anna Karenina&lt;/em&gt; by Leo Tolstoy. I had started it a few summers previous when my sister read it for college but unfortunately got bored rather quickly. This summer I was determined to read the entire book, fortunately I found the book much more interesting this time around. Along with &lt;em&gt;Anna Karenina&lt;/em&gt; I obviously read &lt;em&gt;Pride and Prejudice&lt;/em&gt;, which I had originally read in grade six and many times since [I went through a phase where I only read classical novels such as &lt;em&gt;Pride and Prejudice&lt;/em&gt;, &lt;em&gt;Emma&lt;/em&gt;, &lt;em&gt;Jane Eyre&lt;/em&gt;,  &lt;em&gt;The Count of Monte Cristo&lt;/em&gt; and a few others]. I also read the sequel to Meg Cabot’s [the author of the &lt;em&gt;Princess Diaries&lt;/em&gt; series, of which I have also read] &lt;em&gt;All American Girl&lt;/em&gt;. I read of few snippets from Hunter S. Thompson’s &lt;em&gt;Shark Hunt: Strange Tales from a Strange Time&lt;/em&gt;. Which I found interesting but many of the pieces were only excerpts so without the entire story and not having lived in that era, therefore not knowing the popular culture of the times, I found some of the stories hard to follow. I wanted to read &lt;em&gt;The Electric Kool-Aid Acid Test&lt;/em&gt; and &lt;em&gt;Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas&lt;/em&gt; but I did not get the chance. The other book I read for school was &lt;em&gt;Old School&lt;/em&gt; by Tobias Wolff. I found &lt;em&gt;Old School&lt;/em&gt;  interesting because of how the story was told, it was more of a monologue. The narrator reports what is going on around him from his point of view and how he sees things, omitting extraneous details that as the observer, the narrator already knows, for example the reader never learns the name of the narrator or what he looks like. I also liked how the narrator goes through many different phases, when he reads Ayn Rand's &lt;em&gt;Fountainhead,&lt;/em&gt; he becomes obsessed with trying to imitate the ridiculously heroic characters in her novel. When Ernest Hemingway is scheduled to visit the narrator endlessly copies his stories attempting to create one of his own, driving him to cheat, although unintentionally, in an attempt to win an audience. As a Hemingway fan, I really liked the connections to Hemingway in &lt;em&gt;Old School&lt;/em&gt; also.    &lt;br /&gt;       I really enjoyed &lt;em&gt;Anna Karenina&lt;/em&gt;. Although at first glance the book seems to be about a whole lot of nothing. Although it turned out to be 700 pages of very well written nothing, it still managed to keep my attention. Because the "nothing" was actually a depiction of everyday life, just like a life I could have, although I am not Russian nor am I married and worried about my husband taking my child, but it is possible. I wanted to continue reading and see what would happen between Anna and Alexey Alexandrovitch, if Anna would keep her son or run away with Vronsky. By the end I had begun to despise Anna, her life was unfortunate and yes, she was shunned by her society but instead of trying to be happy with Vronsky and her daughter, she chose to blame Vronksy and succumb to jealousy and mistrust. Without regard to the effect her death would have on Vronsky or their child, she throws herself on to the train tracks to end her unhappiness and get revenge upon Vronksy. I had particular respect for Oblonsky’s wife, Dolly, her husband had cheated on her and is extremely frivolous with her money, yet Dolly chooses to forgive him. Although it may appear that Dolly just gave in to keep her house and her respect, I think that showed more strength in staying with him than if she had left him because she chose to make the best of it by devoting herself to their children and helping her sister Kitty. Also when Anna becomes an outcast, Dolly was one of the only women who still receives her and visits her.  My favorite characters in the novel were Konstantin Levin and his wife, Kitty. Once they are married, they move out to the country away from society and attempt to pursue the simple pleasures of life, farming and housekeeping in this circumstance, and they both seem extremely happy just to be with each other.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1450417479771043159-371059990109111353?l=anneinkpen.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anneinkpen.blogspot.com/feeds/371059990109111353/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1450417479771043159&amp;postID=371059990109111353' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1450417479771043159/posts/default/371059990109111353'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1450417479771043159/posts/default/371059990109111353'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anneinkpen.blogspot.com/2008/08/summer-reading.html' title='Summer Reading'/><author><name>Anne Inkpen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03983417522179328841</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry></feed>
