Bressler's Chapter 5

Brave New World is filled with opposites, and after reading chapter five in Bressler's Literary Criticism I started to realize it more.

The Castes in Brave New World are the major opposites in the novel.  The Alphas are opposite to the Epsilons.  Wile the Alphas were given the best conditions while they were being created, the Epsilons were given the worst conditions.  The Epsilons were treated with alcohol and other factors that made them smaller and less intelligent than the Alphas.  However, I think that it would make more sense if the Epsilons we bigger than the Alphas because they have to do the labor for the society.

The Betas and the Deltas are the same way.  The Betas are not as smart as Alphas, but they are still one of the higher castes.  Similarly, while the Deltas are more intelligent than the Epsilons, they are still one of the lower castes in the society.  The Deltas, however, are in between the Betas and Deltas, so they might not be as smart as the Betas, but they're more intelligent than the Deltas.

Brave New World Revisited

I have to be honest.  I've never really liked non-fiction books.  They've just never caught my interest before.  However, Brave New World Revisited interested me, mainly the chapter titled "Quantity, Quality, Morality."

While in Brave New World, the society can pair biologically superior or biologically inferior ova and sperm to create citizens that fit the requirements for each caste.  While there are other factors when creating these people (the Bokanovsky Process, alcohol, protein poisons, etc.), it ensures that the people are to the society's standards.  As Aldous Huxley said, "in our random and unregulated way we are not only over-populating our planet, we are also, it would seem, making sure that these greater numbers shall be of biologically poorer quality."

While in today's society, we can help people born with certain illnesses or defects, but that doesn't mean that we shouldn't be more careful.  It seems like, everywhere you turn, more and more women are having babies, whether these children were planned or not.  These women have no idea if their children are going to have any birth defects or illnesses.  The only thing that these people can do is hope that their child will be born healthy, if the doctors cannot catch the defect before the child's born.

However, not all of these new lives can be cared for properly.  Some cannot be fed, clothed, or housed properly.  It's sad to think about, since we are fed, clothed, and housed properly.  To think of children, and even people our own age, that can't have basic necessities is almost unthinkable.

Brave New World

My reaction to Aldous Huxley’s Brave New World was actually somewhat similar to my reaction to Feed.  It felt like a huge wakeup call.  It felt like a mixture of Feed and the aspects from Consumed, both of which the AP Lang class had to read.  The World Controllers control what goes on in their section of the world (though in Feed, I don’t think that there are Feed Controllers or at least ones that stand out) and the infantilization of adults was something that Benjamin R. Barber discussed in his book.

I found the way that they make the people slightly disturbing.  The fact that they are willing and able to split an embryo into 96 human beings is disturbing, though that could be because today’s society probably wouldn’t do that.  I couldn’t imagine if there 95 other people that look like me.  I also find the idea of words such as “mother” and “father” viewed as pornographic or bad words.  It just seems so absurd in this time that it seems unreal.

I think that a world like this one could be a good or a bad thing.  On one hand, the World Controllers make sure that everyone is happy with their place in society and that nothing bad happens.  On the other hand, no one can experience hard times in life that make us better people.  The society also shapes the people in the molds that the World Controllers have set for the people.  These people never have the chance to choose what they want out of life.

Despite the disturbing and crazy parts of the society in Brave New World, I found it a very eye-opening book.

"A Good Man Is Hard to Find"

I have to say, I really enjoyed "A Good Man Is Hard to Find" by Flannery O'Connor. O'Connor uses something as normal as a family road trip to Florida and turn the entire story upside down.

In the beginning, the characters seemed, to me, a little plain. It wasn't until the family was on their way to the old plantation that I actually started to like the characters.  They started to feel more familiar as I started to see similarities between the family in the story and a normal family.

I felt that the story started to get interesting after the family stopped at the old diner. After hearing about the escaped convict known as "the Misfit," I knew that he was going to make an appearance at some point in the story.  I car wreck was something that I honestly wasn’t expecting.  However, the appearance of the Misfit was expected.  I did not, however, expect him to kill everyone in the family.  I actually felt bad for the family.  Though this might be because of the connection I felt between the family with, surprisingly, my own (to a point anyway).  I guess the title says it all:  a good man is hard to find.  All in all, I enjoyed the short story.  It was a nice piece that was a quick read.

The Sun Also Rises

Since I had read A Moveable Feast by Hemingway, I wasn't sure what to expect.  I actually liked The Sun Also Rises better than The Moveable Feast.

I enjoyed the entire book, except for one character.  That character was Brett.  She was just mean and seemed to flirt with one too many guys.  At multiple times, Brett made it very clear that she would never end up with Jake in the end because she wouldn't be willing to give up sex.

Like in A Moveable Feast, there was a lot of drinking involved.  However, that was the norm when this book was written.  And, like in A Moveable Feast, many important events happened when the characters were having a drink. 

While Cohn wasn't one of my favorite characters, I feel bad that he fell for Brett.  He would try his best to get her attention, but I don't think that following her around would give him any chance of Brett noticing him.  His stalker-like behavior led to Mike, Brett's fiancé, calling Cohn a steer.  The building tension between Mike, who strongly dislikes Cohn (probably because Cohn is following Brett around), and Cohn eventually leads to a fight between the two which Cohn, being the middleweight boxing champion at Princeton, managed to beat Mike.

Jake's condition was continuously mentioned throughout the novel.  The war injury that he received plays a major part in his relationship that he and Brett could have had together.  However, because of her unwillingness to give up sex, their relationship, or at least the one he would like to have with Brett, is nonexistent.

Overall, I really did enjoy The Sun Also Rises and I will probably end up reading it again.

Did I Kill Herman Mildew? No. Do I Think Whoever Did Should Get an Award? Yes

To tell you the truth, I'm glad that Herman Mildew is dead.  I think the person that did it should get an award.  I’ve heard just about a million rumors of how he died, most of them were typical murder stuff:  house fire, drive by, mugged.  And some of them were really weird, like someone had said that he got a paper cut and bled out.  I mean, come on, who does that?  But don't get me wrong:  I did NOT kill Herman Mildew.

Mildew was a cruel man; I should have listened to what everyone else was saying about him.  When I was looking for an editor, everyone was telling me to not even give him a second thought.  But, stupid me, I thought "what the heck," and went to meet the guy.  He seemed decent enough, I could handle his paranoia and loud and obnoxious ways, but there was one thing I couldn't stand.

He hated small furry animals, AND he was cruel to them.  What is up with that?  Mice and rats I can understand, most people don't like them, but to hate and be cruel to every single small animal is completely insane in my opinion.

Now, if you can’t already tell, I love animals.  I have a ton of them:  cats, dogs, guinea pigs, geckos, birds, you name it, there’s a good chance that I have at least one.

Had I seen him earlier that day?  Yeah I did.  I told you he was my editor didn’t I?  The day he died was the day that I told him he wasn’t my editor anymore.  Heck, maybe he was so depressed about me leaving that he decided to commit suicide and you guys have it all wrong.  But, then again, he doesn’t seem like the suicidal kind of guy either.

Where was I the rest of the day?  Well, after I left his office, I had lunch with one of my friends, I went to the pet store to pick up some stuff – and no, it was not another animal, it was just food and toys – and then I went home for the rest of the day.  I wrote for the rest of the day, played with the animals, and went to bed.  The next morning, I wake up and BAM!  I found out that the pessimistic, vulgar, tub of lard was dead.

Why do I hate him so much?  Hey, hey, wait a minute.  Hate is a very strong word.  I prefer to think of it as a very strong dislike for Mr. Herman Mildew.  And the reason for that, honestly if you can’t figure it out by now then I guess you aren’t that great at picking up small details, now are you?

It’s amazing really.  Some writers and I had a bet.  The bet was to see how long it would take for someone to fly off the handle and kill Mildew.  Most of the other writers were saying within a year or two he’d be gone.  Not me.  I told them “give it ‘til Christmas.”  I guess I win that bet.

It's Time for the Initiation

Personally, out of the Initiation stories, I like "Stepdaughters" the best. Max Apple did a great job showing the transition from girl to woman. The main character Stephanie refuses to accept the stereotype of a woman. Stephanie, to me, is someone who should be admired for her strength in standing up. For some, it's not easy to tell your parents that you want to anything in your own way, even me.  I don’t know what it is, but there’s something in me that doesn’t want to disappoint my parents. 

Even when she's struggling to make an identity for herself, Stephanie never gives up. I think that Apple did an amazing job showing this struggle in the girl’s choices and "initiation."  I wish that there were more stories like this, stories that portrayed a strong girl who is willing to go against her mother’s wishes and follow her own path.  If Stephanie’s aiming for the Olympics, then she should follow that dream.  Why shouldn’t she?  Because her mother wants her to stay at home?

I feel like Stephanie is a relatable character to many people.  Whether it’s standing up to a parent or parents, or going against stereotypical gender roles, which I am not fond of, people, no matter what gender, can relate to Stephanie.  Overall, I think that Apple did an awesome job with this short story.

Short Story #2

And here's number 2!

1776 – Amelia’s Point of View

I stood quietly next to US as we watched the men sign a piece of paper.  I brought my tiny hand to my eyes to wipe the tears.  I didn’t want to upset Britain and UK, but my people wanted to be free; I had no choice.  US and I were so young…it hurt to have to break away from them.  UK and Britain had raised us.  Mr. Franklin put a gentle hand on my shoulder.  It had been determined that US and I would go to help deliver the message to the King.  I looked up to see him smiling down at me, a slight twinkle in his eyes.

Once the meeting ended, Mr. Franklin escorted US and I out of Independence Hall.  “I know it will be difficult,” he said, “but it’s the right thing to do.”

I nodded, looking down.  I felt a tear rolling down my cheek.  My straight, dark hair cascaded in front of my face.  US grabbed my hand and gave a gentle squeeze.  I looked up to see him grinning at me, his short blonde ponytail swaying in the light breeze, “mama and papa will understand.”

“I hope they will,” I whispered softly.  Mama Britain and Papa UK would surely understand.  Both of them knew how hard they were on us after the French people tried to hurt us.  But then our other people had sided with the French.  I’ve been told that I look like them; the only difference is my blue eyes.

After around 2 months, we had finally reached Great Britain.  Mama Britain and Papa UK were waiting for us on the docks.  US and I squealed in delight and raced to hug them.  Papa UK picked me up and spun me around.  “And how is little Miss America,” he asked.

I hugged him, “doing well, papa.”

Our “babysitter” looked at us with a hateful eye.  My smile faded as papa put me down.  Mama took my hand as we walked to the palace.  I knew that this was not going to end well; I knew that mama and papa would hate US and I.

 

Once the Declaration was read, I finally looked over at mama and papa.  Mama had tears streaming down her face and her hand covered her mouth.  Papa was looking at the floor, but I could see the hurt in his eyes.  Mama quickly walked over to US and I.  “Why” was the only thing that she asked.  US and I couldn’t stop our tears, “we’re sorry!  It wasn’t our fault; we didn’t want to leave either of you!  It’s just that, you both have been so hard on us that we couldn’t take it anymore!”

Mama and Papa looked at us painfully before leaving.  I only saw them look back once; the same thought on everyone’s mind.

There will be war.

Short Story #1

Hey guys, I decided to post two short stories that I wrote last year on this blog.  Feel free to post a comment and I hope that you guys like them! :)

March 25, 1911 – New York City, New York, Unites States of America

Amelia Jackson, known only to the closest of friends, and co-workers, as Lady Liberty, tucked a loose strand of jet black hair behind her tan ear as she walked the streets of New York City, tall buildings all around her.  The people walked to work like any other day.  Although industries were booming, many of the workers weren't happy with the conditions.  She sighed in frustration.  Although being able to hear her people’s thoughts could come in handy, it also gave her insight to the working conditions that she never experienced.  She smiled whenever she saw one of my coworkers walking to work.  She stood out among the crowds of New York City.  She heard the slurs that were directed toward her.  Native American blood ran through her veins, among others, and Amelia was proud of it.  Since most of them were immigrants or born to immigrant parents, Amelia had taken it upon myself to learn as many languages as she could.  It was enjoyable, though Amelia learned many languages from other nations.  They were actually surprised that she could even speak another language besides English, even though she could already speak all of the languages spoken by Native Americans. 

Reaching the door of her building, she walked up to the eighth floor, going through the daily bag check before walking to the sewing machine that she always worked at.  Everyone, including Amelia, thought that today would be just a normal day at the shirtwaist factory.  However, they couldn't have been more wrong.

The workday had been going smoothly, like every day before, until 4: 40 pm.  One of the women that Amelia worked with told our production manager that there was a fire.  The smell of smoke filled the air.  The production manager tried to put out the fire with a bucket of water, but by then the fire had spread too far.  The women and girls began to panic and everyone rushed to the door.  The manager tried to get the fire hose to work, but to no avail.  Amelia raced to the door and ushered the girls through the door one by one, trying to calm the panicked girls.  Glancing over at the telephone, Amelia saw a woman run over to it, a panicked look plastered to her face.

"What's wrong," Amelia yelled over the screaming.

"The switchboard's not putting me through to the 9th floor!"

Cursing under her breath, she yelled, "you go on! I'll handle the 9th floor!"

She ran past Amelia to the door as Amelia turned and ran to the stairs.  The production manager was running up the stairs in front of me, trying to reach the girls trapped on the 9th floor.  When the pair reached the door, Amelia could tell that something wasn't right, something was hissing behind the door.  Realization hit her as Amelia pulled the manager out of the way, watching the door explode in front of them.  She told him that she would handle getting the girls out of there.  He simply nodded and ran to get out of the building, never looking back at youthful-looking girl.  Tears streamed down Amelia’s face as she felt some of the girls burning.  Their screams rang in her ears and she could feel the women suffocating on the smoke.  These women and girls had done nothing wrong, why was this happening?  What did these women do to deserve this?

Coughing, Amelia gripped her skirt and jumped over the flames in the doorway.  She looked around and saw that many of the girls were gone.  Some of them were still trying to make their way to the elevator.  She looked around to see other women and girls in a panic, trying to find another way out.  Amelia looked out the window to find that the fire escape no longer standing.  Left with no other option, Amelia watched in horror as two girls stepped out onto the window ledge.  Gripping onto each other, the poor girls took their final step off of the building and plummeted to the ground.

Screaming in pain and sorrow, Amelia felt the impact that, surely, killed the girls instantly.  She felt a stream of blood flow down the side of her face as more of the girls jumped to their deaths on the streets below.  By the time Amelia finally looked up, there was one girl still alive, crouched down and crying.  The poor thing looked no older than 15 years old. Amelia pulled herself up and walked over to the girl, wrapping her arms around the girl and rocked her gently.

"I don't want to die, America," she whispered in broken English.

"I'm not-"

"I know what you are," she whispered, "you are America."

"A smart girl," Amelia said, smiling.

"I don't want to die..."

Amelia stood up, with the girl still in her arms, and walked toward the windows.  "We won't."

Amelia looked down at the girl and smiled, "I'll break the fall as best I can."

She stood up on the ledge and looked out at the city.  Amelia stepped off the ledge, and curled herself around the girl.  She felt the girl grip onto her shirt as they fell, getting closer and closer to the ground below.  She couldn't tell if they were both screaming or if it was only one of them.

Amelia curled herself further around the girl and turned onto her back.  Amelia felt her back slam into the ground.  Amelia’s head snapped backward and hit the concrete.  She felt something wet against the back of her head.  She looked at the girl to find that she was still alive, thank God.  The girl’s wrists looked a little swollen, but overall, she looked fine.

People rushed over to the two and Amelia insisted that they should look over the girl instead of herself.  She stood and watched as the dead bodies were lined up and put in caskets, crying the entire time.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Amelia woke up screaming, tears falling down her face.  She looked over to find her cellphone next to the alarm clock, her laptop on her desk, the baseball bat sitting in the corner, the TV buzzing, video games strewn across the floor, her iTouch was plugged into the stereo, and worst of all, all of Amelia’s scars were still visible across her tan skin.  A shadow appeared in the doorway, bright blue eyes looked at Amelia with concern, "America, are you okay?  I heard you screaming and..."

Amelia nodded, "I'm fine US."

"No you're not," he shook his head, running a hand through his wheat colored hair, "Amelia Jackson, tell me what's wrong."

She sighed, "the triangle shirtwaist factory..."

Amelia felt something move on the bed and a pair of arms pulled her backwards into something warm.  "I know it hurt. It's difficult to be a nation, but we get through it."

Beowulf

When I started reading Beowulf, I thought back to the mythology unit that I had in my 6^th grade Reading/English class at my old school.  We only went over a simple version of Beowulf, but I still remember the little stick figures that we made for each character.  As I read through Beowulf, I couldn’t help but think back to those silly little stick figures with missing arms and x’s for eyes.

I really did enjoy this epic tale.  That may be because I love mythology and old epics, but I liked the poem just the same.  I did appreciate the references to Sigemund from Norse mythology, and the fight between Beowulf and the dragon reminded me of the fight between Sigurd and Fáfnir (the dragon that Sigurd has to fight).  Both the dragon from Beowulf and Fáfnir are guarding a treasure while Beowulf and Sigurd fight, and slay their respective dragons.  Beowulf is, essentially, a mash-up of some of the greatest warriors in mythology.  There’s Sigurd/Sigemund with their dragon slaying streak, and the strength of Heracles/Hercules.

I admired Beowulf most of all.  When he was younger, Beowulf is the ideal warrior.  He’s brave and strong, and clearly able enough to take on any foe he comes in contact with.  I mean, he took off Grendel’s arm without any weapon for crying out loud!  I’d say that gets some major warrior points.  Even though Unferth tried to tell Beowulf that he [Beowulf] wasn’t good enough to defeat Grendel, Beowulf simply said that he wouldn’t use a sword because it would be an unfair advantage.  The only thing that I could think of was “is this guy nuts?”  And then Beowulf goes and rips Grendel’s arm off with his Herculean strength like he pulls a monster’s arm off every morning before breakfast.  I bet that back in the day, every guy wished that he could say “yeah, I took off a monster’s arm this morning.  And I didn’t even break a sweet.”

As Beowulf ages, his wisdom grows, leading him to become a wise king that cares for the protection of his homeland and his people.  Even as an old man, Beowulf is still kicking monster butt.  He wanted to slay the dragon and obtain the treasure, not for himself or his family, but for all of his people.  I feel bad that the majority of his men ran away when Beowulf went to fight the dragon.  The only one that stayed and helped Beowulf fight the dragon was Wiglaf.  Shows how brave the other warriors are.

So far, I’ve enjoyed all of the books so far, especially this one, and I hope that the other books are just as good.

Wuthering Heights

Overall, I really did enjoy Wuthering Heights.  I thought that it would have been a more Jane Austen-esque book, but I was pleasantly surprised.  I seemed like a slightly darker, more twisted version of a Jane Austen novel, which reminded me why I like creepier stories (hello We Have Always Lived in the Castle).  

Heathcliff was one of the more interesting characters.  He tried so hard to be with the first Catherine only to have her choose Edgar.  I mean, you have to feel bad for the guy.  The only girl he loved threw him away for a guy that could give her a few shiny trinkets.  But, he did become pretty mean after Catherine tossed him aside.  He became harsh, cruel.  Even after he took revenge through Hareton, Edgar, Isabella, his son Linton, and even the second Catherine, he loved the first Catherine just as much as ever.  

Throughout the novel, Emily Brontë mentions ghosts multiple times.  The spirits give an uneasy effect.  Ghosts are usually thought of as souls who are uneasy and are unable to move past the land of the living for one reason or another.  Perhaps Catherine's ghost did not want to leave the land of the living, or Heathcliff demanding that she has to stay and wouldn't care if she haunted him. Though it is nice to see that Heathcliff and Catherine are together in death, even though they were unable to while they were alive. 

Through the novel, Brontë gave the impression that love is a destructive force that almost always leads to hurting people.  In the triangle between Heathcliff, Catherine, and Edgar, all three parties are hurt by Catherine's love for Heathcliff and her decision to marry Edgar instead.  

After Hindley's wife died, he turned to alcohol for comfort (which probably wasn't the best idea with everything that he did while drunk).  Hind key must have really cared about his wife, because it was her death that made him begin to loose his sanity.

I do feel sympathy toward Linton, Hareton, and the second Catherine.  While Linton was not one of my favorites, his own father forced him to marry Catherine just so that Heathcliff could finish out his revenge against Edgar for taking Catherine away from him [Heathcliff].  The three of them are only tools in Heathcliff's master plan.  The relationships between Hareton, Linton, and Catherine are almost like the relationships between Edgar, Heathcliff, and the first Catherine, and as I was reading about them, I was just hoping that their lives wouldn't turn out like Edgar, Heathcliff, and the first Catherine.

Personally, Edgar was my least favorite character in the novel, along with Isabella.  The Lintons were too scared to stand up for themselves, it was actually quite sad.  I think that I would have liked them more had Edgar and Isabella actually stood up for themselves, or at least Edgar against Heathcliff.

Micro Narrative - First Lit Post

Our first AP Lit post of the year is here!  So, without further adieu, here is my micro narrative.  Enjoy! :)

This is the longest peace that our society has had in a long time.  Children ran around in tunics and dresses, looking like little versions of their parents.  Adults chatted and laughed, completing their daily errands.  I nodded to my friends and co-workers as I walked through the town as my Grecian tunic flowed around my knees.  The smell of fresh bread filled the air, floating all the way from the bakery at the end of the street.  Hammers clanged against metal in the blacksmith’s shop down the block.  I browsed the shops and booths lining the crowded streets, my signature bow and quiver strapped to my back.  Venders were shouting for people to buy a certain product.  Different languages were being spoken all around me as I walked through the market, languages that should have died along with the ancient cultures that they came from.

As I came to the square in the center of town, three children caught my attention:  a set of twins, a boy and a girl, and their younger brother.  They were so young, naïve even.  Their father was chasing them around, the four of them weaving around the other people in the square and the children screaming in delight.  Never in a million years did I think that I would end up having children, let alone three.  I shook my head, smiling, and continued to walk to a training field, hearing the oh so familiar clashing of swords and the thwack of arrows hitting their mark.  That had been me once, working all day to perfect my skills.  To train so that I could survive.  Train so that I could protect others like me, my family. 

Stories are told of our adventures, our victories.  I try to ignore them.  They always brought the nightmares and no matter how much time passed, the smell of the burning flesh and the screams of the victims will never leave.

Many of us have scars, even those who were young at the time.  I have them.  Burn marks.  They tried to break me.  To burn me.  I remember my own flesh burning.  Some of us view our battle scars as marks of our bravery.  I don’t.  I hate them.  I hate those d*** scars.  Bite marks, burn scars, and the scars from swords, bullets, and daggers.  I hate them all.  I was helpless…weak.  I swore to myself I would never know that helplessness again.  And I knew that I wasn’t the only one that felt that way.

Once the peace came, I trained even harder.  I pushed myself to the brink of exhaustion to ensure that I would never be the same.

I slid my bow off my shoulder and notched an arrow.  I pulled the arrow back towards me, took a breath, and released the arrow.  I watched the arrow as it whizzed through the air toward the target.  I smirked as it hit the bull’s eye.  I guess some things will never change.

The Hunger Games

Although many of you have read The Hunger Games, some people may not have seen the movie.  For those of you that don't know, The Hunger Games is, as most know, a fictional, post-apocalyptic world where twelve districts (spread across North America) send a boy and a girl between the ages of rove and eighteen to the Capitol. Within the Capitol, there's an arena where these twenty-four children fight to the death, until one is left standing.  So now that those that don't know anything about The Hunger Games know at least the basics, we'll start to "tear apart" this movie. This movie seems to be in between a highbrow and a lowbrow.  While it is a fictional story, there are some parts that can seem more intellectual.  However, the movie is closer to the lowbrow side. Throughout the year, our class has learned many things.  The Hunger Games can defiantly be linked to society.  These Hunger Games are the societal norm of the time.  While many people believe that these games are wrong, many people refuse to do anything about it.  That is, until Katniss came along.  These districts a conforming to what society has been telling them is normal for the past 74 years.  People lived in poverty throughout many of the districts, while the Capitol and those few districts that remain loyal to the Capitol live fairly good lives.  The districts also live in fear of the Capitol.  Fears that the Capitol will take away their children or drag them away, never to return their families.