martes, 11 de enero de 2011
Magic Realism
"Magic realism is often explained as a unique product of the Latin American condition, particularly its history of European colonialism, which resulted in a delicate relationship between the contradictory yet co-existing forces of indigenous religion and myth and the powerful Catholic Church."
Like Water for Chocolate - Study Questions
1. What is the significance of the many physical illnesses that plague characters throughout the novel?
2. Discuss the importance of the narrator.
3. Discuss the role of ghosts in the novel.
4. Discuss the role of tradition in the novel and the impact it has on the characters' lives.
6. Compare and contrast the two prime male figures in the novel, Pedro and John Brown, paying attention to their respective relationships with Tita.
7. How is fire used as a symbol in the text?
8. Several instances of sensual love are described in the novel. Analyze these episodes to discuss the depictions of women in love.
9. In your opinion, is Tita a strong female figure? A feminist character?
10. What does the novel tell us about the domestic life of women?
2. Discuss the importance of the narrator.
3. Discuss the role of ghosts in the novel.
4. Discuss the role of tradition in the novel and the impact it has on the characters' lives.
5. The three De La Garza sisters possess differing personalities. By tracing their trajectories through the course of the novel, discuss the way each sister embodies a female stereotype. What statement might the author be making through these types about options in the lives of women?
6. Compare and contrast the two prime male figures in the novel, Pedro and John Brown, paying attention to their respective relationships with Tita.
7. How is fire used as a symbol in the text?
8. Several instances of sensual love are described in the novel. Analyze these episodes to discuss the depictions of women in love.
9. In your opinion, is Tita a strong female figure? A feminist character?
10. What does the novel tell us about the domestic life of women?
viernes, 24 de diciembre de 2010
miércoles, 22 de diciembre de 2010
Cold Case 5x11 - Family 8108
This is an episode I've just seen on TV, which made me think of the concept of hibridity, it's about a japanese-american family who is sent to a concentration camp after Pearl Harbor's attach, it's interesting to see how different japenese-american people might have felt at that time and under those conditions.
sábado, 11 de diciembre de 2010
Jane Eyre, Eva Luna, Pride and Prejudice, G. B. Shaw and Fairy Tales,
Just like Jane Eyre, Eva Luna travels from town to town meeting new characters and their lifestyles. After each journey, a new stage in Jane and Eva's lives begins and their personalities evolve.
Along their lives they create life, their lives, and they create the world, guided by their inner force, that force which B. Shaw talked about. But they create two worlds which are miles apart, one is in the north hemisphere and the other one in the south. However, they grow up in a similar way, experiencing similar feelings and learning to fight and defend themselves from those who are prejudiced against them.
When talking about prejudice we cannot help alluding to Elizabeth's clash with Lady Catherine and Mr. Darcy and so we can infer that prejudice against women must be something taking place around the globe.
Although Isabel Allende must have read Charlotte Brontë and Jane Austen's novels, I don't think she was inspired in such stories when telling about Eva Luna at all. Yet, the similiraties in all the women in these works are there, quite explicitly displayed. This might indicate that women's experience are basically quite the same regardless their age, nationality or ethnicity. We can even compare these characters to those of fairy tales and other short stories, all of them suffer from prejudice: the princess who loves whistling, Cinderella for being an orphan, Belle for being a bookworm, the little mermaid for being a day dreamer who will not settle for life under the sea, Desiree for being thought not to be purely white, the Wife of Bath for being considered a slut :P, etc. Now, talking about fairy tales and short stories, the difference between them basically is that one is aimed to allow for identification, and the other is not.
But can we help feeling identified with these women at any extent? We might feel tempted to sort of force the similarities between our lives and these heroines' but somehow, those similarities are there and can be seen.
Reading all these works and further that I have read, after these years of Language and Literature and the years before which I spent reading without academic purposes, this brunch of literary criticism which I was so prejudiced against, which is feminist criticism, seems to me now a most fascinating world and wonderful way of reading allowing for identification to take place.
Way more than readings allowing for identification.
Along their lives they create life, their lives, and they create the world, guided by their inner force, that force which B. Shaw talked about. But they create two worlds which are miles apart, one is in the north hemisphere and the other one in the south. However, they grow up in a similar way, experiencing similar feelings and learning to fight and defend themselves from those who are prejudiced against them.
When talking about prejudice we cannot help alluding to Elizabeth's clash with Lady Catherine and Mr. Darcy and so we can infer that prejudice against women must be something taking place around the globe.
Although Isabel Allende must have read Charlotte Brontë and Jane Austen's novels, I don't think she was inspired in such stories when telling about Eva Luna at all. Yet, the similiraties in all the women in these works are there, quite explicitly displayed. This might indicate that women's experience are basically quite the same regardless their age, nationality or ethnicity. We can even compare these characters to those of fairy tales and other short stories, all of them suffer from prejudice: the princess who loves whistling, Cinderella for being an orphan, Belle for being a bookworm, the little mermaid for being a day dreamer who will not settle for life under the sea, Desiree for being thought not to be purely white, the Wife of Bath for being considered a slut :P, etc. Now, talking about fairy tales and short stories, the difference between them basically is that one is aimed to allow for identification, and the other is not.
But can we help feeling identified with these women at any extent? We might feel tempted to sort of force the similarities between our lives and these heroines' but somehow, those similarities are there and can be seen.
Reading all these works and further that I have read, after these years of Language and Literature and the years before which I spent reading without academic purposes, this brunch of literary criticism which I was so prejudiced against, which is feminist criticism, seems to me now a most fascinating world and wonderful way of reading allowing for identification to take place.
Way more than readings allowing for identification.
sábado, 20 de noviembre de 2010
martes, 21 de septiembre de 2010
HWE N° 8 | Lang. through Lit.
TASK: Describe the old man's bedroom from the "Tell-Tale Heart" by Edgar Alan Poe.
"It took me an hour to place my whole head within the opening so far that I could see him as he lay upon his bed. Ha! Would a madman have been so wise as this? And then when my head was well in the room I undid the lantern cautiously - oh, so cautiously."
From the position in which I laid I had studied the room, carefully scrutinized every single detail and ornament. If I lubricated the door's hinges, next time thy would not make a noise, I was not to be given away. The planks from the rich oak flooring were old and squeaky so I had to be most cautious in my moves. The bed, huge and cossy, laid outstandingly in the middle of the room, it was the only place in the whole house that could hold any warmth. The sheets were made of Eyptian cotton and the covers were full of white feathers, I could see some of them sneaking through little holes in the cloth when I made the bed. The springs in the mattress would clink if the old man moved; and I'd know then that I had to be more careful than ever. The walls were papered in dark, musky green. The shutters from the tall windows were closely fastened through fear of robbers; heavy crimson curtains hung from the top of the brownish ceiling. The light of my lantern could not be seen by the neighbours outside. To my delight, there was nothing to worry about. If I was careful enough, I would manage not to disturb the room's serene atmosphere, and thus, I would triumph.
From the position in which I laid I had studied the room, carefully scrutinized every single detail and ornament. If I lubricated the door's hinges, next time thy would not make a noise, I was not to be given away. The planks from the rich oak flooring were old and squeaky so I had to be most cautious in my moves. The bed, huge and cossy, laid outstandingly in the middle of the room, it was the only place in the whole house that could hold any warmth. The sheets were made of Eyptian cotton and the covers were full of white feathers, I could see some of them sneaking through little holes in the cloth when I made the bed. The springs in the mattress would clink if the old man moved; and I'd know then that I had to be more careful than ever. The walls were papered in dark, musky green. The shutters from the tall windows were closely fastened through fear of robbers; heavy crimson curtains hung from the top of the brownish ceiling. The light of my lantern could not be seen by the neighbours outside. To my delight, there was nothing to worry about. If I was careful enough, I would manage not to disturb the room's serene atmosphere, and thus, I would triumph.
HWE N° 13 | Lang. through Lit.
TASK: Describe one of the characters from “A Rose for Emily.”
A ROSE for Emily is a story that revolves around the insanity that leads a most peculiar lady to kill the love of her life. The attractive and interesting Homer Barron is the terrible victim of Miss Emily’s passionate crime.
Homer Barron’s voice was big and attractive and his eyes lighter than his face; he was a big, dark, ready foreman yankee who had travalled together with niggers, mules and machinery all the way from the north of the USA to establish in Jefferson and work for a construction company.
Barron was an agreeable pretty person. He soon knew everybody in town - the little boys would follow in groups to hear him cuss the niggers and whenever a lot of laughing was heard anywhere about the square, Homer Barron would be there; in the center of the group.
Eventually he would start dating Miss Emily; the people in town could see them go out in a glittering yellow-wheeled buggy on Sunday afternoons. He, cigar in his teeth, reins and whip in yellow glove, a cocked hat in his head. She, with her head high, very high. They seemed happy.
The yankee and his couple were liked; everybody thought that they would marry some day. But Homer Barron was not a marrying man: he drank with younger men at the Elk’s club and there were also rumours that he liked them better than he liked womenviernes, 10 de septiembre de 2010
Figures of Speech
Identify examples of the use of figures of speech in some text of your choice.
Excerpt from “Eva Luna” by Isabel Allende
Missionaries took Consuelo in before she learned to walk; she appeared one day, a naked cub caked with mud and excrement, crawling across the footbridge from the dock like a tiny Jonah vomited up by some freshwater whale. When they bathed her, it was clear beyond a shadow of doubt that she was a girl, which must have caused no little consternation among them; but she was already there and it would not do to throw her into the river, so they draped her in a diaper to cover her shame, squeezed a few drops of lemon into her eyes to heal the infection that had prevented her from opening them, and baptized her with the first female name that came to mind. They then proceeded to bring her up, without fuss or effort to find out where she came from; they were sure that if Divine Providence had kept her alive until they found her, it would also watch over her physical and spiritual well-being, or, in the worst of cases, would bear her off to heaven along with the other innocents. Consuelo grew up without any fixed niche in the strict hierarchy of the Mission. She was not exactly a servant, but neither did she have the status of the Indian boys in the school, and when she asked which of the priests was her father, she was cuffed for her insolence. She told me that a Dutch sailor had set her adrift in a rowboat, but that was likely a story that she had invented to protect herself from the onslaught of my questions. I think the truth is that she knew nothing about her origins or how she had come to be where the missionaries found her.
The Mission was a small oasis in the heart of an expanse of voluptuous vegetation writhing and twisting from the banks of the river to the feet of the monumental geologic towers that rose toward the firmament like one of God's mistakes. There time is bent and distances deceive the human eye, persuading the traveler to wander in circles. The humid, heavy air smells of flowers, herbs, man's sweat and animal breath. The heat is oppressive, unalleviated by any breeze; the stones steam and blood boils in the veins. At dusk the sky is filled with phosphorescent mosquitoes whose bites produce endless nightmares, and the still night air carries the distinct cries of birds, the chattering of monkeys, and the distant roar of the waterfalls born high in the mountains to crash far below like the thunder of warfare. The modest mud-and-wattle Mission building, with its tower of woven stakes and a bell to toll for Mass, balanced, like all the huts, on piles driven into the mud of a river of opalescent waters whose banks evaporated in the reverberating light. The dwellings seemed to drift amid silent canoes, garbage, carcasses of dogs and rats, and inexplicable white blossoms.
Consuelo was easy to distinguish even from a distance, her long red hair like a whip of fire against the eternal green of that landscape. Her playmates were young Indians with swollen bellies, an impudent parrot that recited an "Our Father" salted with curses, and a monkey chained to a table leg; from time to time she would let the monkey loose to look for a sweetheart in the jungle, but he always returned to the same spot to scratch his fleas. Even in those days Protestants were everywhere, distributing their Bibles, preaching against the Vatican, and hauling their pianos through heat and rain so their converts could celebrate salvation in public song. Such competition demanded the total dedication of the Catholic priests, and they paid little attention to Consuelo, who was growing up scorched by the sun, poorly nourished on yucca and fish, infested with parasites, bitten by mosquitoes, free as a bird. Aside from helping with domestic chores, attending religious services and a few classes in reading, arithmetic, and catechism, she had no obligations; she roamed outdoors, sniffing the flora and chasing the fauna, her mind filled with images, smells, colors, and myths borne on the river current.
She was twelve when she met the man with the prospecting chickens, a weathered Portuguese who was dry and hard outside and bubbling with laughter inside. His birds pillaged the countryside, devouring anything that glittered, and after a certain amount of time their owner would slit open their craw and harvest his grains of gold--not enough to make him rich, but enough to nourish his dreams. One morning, El Portugués glimpsed a white-skinned girl with a blaze of hair, knee-deep in the swamp with her skirt tucked up around her legs, and thought he had suffered another of his periodic attacks of fever. His whistle of surprise would have set off a mule train. The sound reached the girl's ears; she looked up, their eyes met, and both smiled the same smile. After that day they met frequently: he, bedazzled, to gaze at her and she to learn to sing Portuguese songs.
"Let's go harvest gold," El Portugués said one day.
They set off into the jungle and soon were out of earshot of the Mission bell, deeper and deeper into the tangled growth along paths visible only to him. All day, crowing like roosters, they looked for the hens, catching them on the wing once they spied them through the dense foliage. She clamped them between her knees, and with one surgical slash he slit open the craw and stuck in his fingers to pull out the seeds of gold. If the hen survived, they stitched it up with needle and thread to continue to serve its owner; the others they put in a sack to sell in the village or use as bait. They burned the feathers because chicken feathers bring bad luck and spread the pip. Tangle-haired, Consuelo returned at dusk, content and spattered with blood. As she climbed the ladder from the rowboat to the terraced riverbank, her nose bumped into four filthy sandals belonging to two friars from Extremadura who were waiting for her with crossed arms and fearsome expressions of repudiation.
"It is time for you to go to the city," they said.
Nothing was gained by begging. Nor was she allowed to take the monkey or the parrot, two companions judged inappropriate for the new life awaiting her. She made the trip along with five native girls, all tied by the ankle to prevent their jumping from the pirogue and disappearing into the river. As he bid her farewell, El Portugués took one long last look at Consuelo; he did not touch her, but as a remembrance he gave her a tooth-shaped gold nugget strung on a cord. She would wear it around her neck most of her life, until she met someone she would give it to as a gift of love. El Portugués saw her for the last time dressed in a stained cotton jumper, a straw hat pulled down to her ears, barefoot and dejected, waving goodbye with one hand.
The journey began by canoe, down tributaries that wound through a landscape to derange the senses, then on muleback over rugged mesas where the cold freezes night thoughts, and finally in a truck, across humid plains through groves of wild bananas and dwarf pineapple and down roads of sand and salt; but none of it surprised the girl, for any person who first opens her eyes in the most hallucinatory land on earth loses the ability to be amazed. On that long journey she wept all the tears stored in her soul, leaving none in reserve for later sorrows. Once her tears were exhausted, she closed her lips, resolving from that moment forward to open them only when it could not be avoided. Several days later, when they reached the capital, the priests took the terrified girls to the Convent of the Little Sisters of Charity, where a nun with a jailer's key opened an iron door and led them to a large shady patio with cloistered corridors on four sides; in the center, doves, thrushes, and hummingbirds were drinking from a fountain of colored tiles. Several young girls in gray uniforms sat in a circle; some were stitching mattresses with curved needles while others wove wicker baskets.
The nun, hands hidden beneath the folds of her habit, recited something that sounded like "Through prayer and toil shall you atone for your sins. I have come not to heal those of you who are whole, but to minister unto those who are suffering and afflicted. The shepherd rejoices more when he finds the lost sheep than in all the ninety and nine. Word of God, praise be His Holy Name, amen."
Consuelo did not understand the meaning of that peroration; she did not even listen to it, she was too exhausted and too assailed by claustrophobia. She had never before been inside a walled enclosure, and when she looked up and saw the sky reduced to a rectangle, she felt that she was suffocating. When they separated her from her traveling companions and took her to the office of the Mother Superior, she had no inkling that it was because of her light skin and eyes. The Little Sisters had not received anyone like her in many years, only girls of mixed blood from the barrios, or Indian girls dragged there bodily by the missionaries.
“a naked cub” – metaphor. The author is implicitly comparing Consuelo to a puppy.
“like a tiny Jonah vomited up by some freshwater whale” – simile + allusion + personification + metaphor. The author is making an allusion to Jonah, the biblical character who is saved from being drowned by a whale by explicitly comparing Consuelo to this character. She also personifies water by saying that it “vomited” Consuelo and at the same time she’s implicitly comparing the river to a whale.
“which must have caused no little consternation among them;” – litotes. The author uses a restraint variety of understatement to express an affirmative idea by the negative of its contrary: she meant “which must have caused big consternation among them.”
!so they draped her in a diaper to cover her shame” – metaphor + sarcasm. The author is implicitly mocking religious beliefs which consider private parts and sexuality to be a shame.
“She told me that a Dutch sailor had set her adrift in a rowboat,” – allusion. Here, Isabel Allende is making indirect reference to Dutch expeditions in Chile and to the contact between the Dutch and the Chilean people.
“The Mission was a small oasis in the heart of an expanse of voluptuous vegetation” – metaphor. The mission is implicitly attributed characteristics of oasis.
“the feet of the monumental geologic towers that rose toward the firmament like one of God's mistakes.” – metaphor + hyperbole + simile. The author tries to describe the size of the geologic towers by saying that they were taller or as tall as the firmament. She’s also paraphrasing by using a metaphor and a simile the idea that those towers were geologic accidents.
“There time is bent and distances deceive the human eye,” – metaphor. The author is expressing that at that place time and space seem to fade or be different from known standards.
“The heat is oppressive, unalleviated by any breeze;(...) blood boils in the veins ” – hyperbole + metaphor + metonomy. This unrestraint variety of irony is used to express how oppressive the heat was by means of exaggeration, saying that there was no trace of wind and. By saying that “blood boils in the veins” the author means that people’s bodies suffered from heat very badly.
“and the still night air carries the distinct cries of birds, the chattering of monkeys, and the distant roar of the waterfalls born high in the mountains to crash far below like the thunder of warfare.” – personification + pathetic fallacy + onomatopoeia + personification + simile + metaphor. The author is attributing human characteristics to the night, to birds, monkeys and waterfalls. She means that the sounds produced by these animals could be heard at night. Also, by writing about the “cries of birds” and “chattering of monkeys,” the author is attributing human feelings to non-human beings. “Roar” is an onomatopoeic word, it phonologically resembles the sound produced by waterfalls. Here, waterfalls are personalized to mean where the water started to fall (high in the mountains). The way the water crashes is explicitly compared to a thunder of warfare. At the same time, the metaphor of a “thunder of warfare” is used to compare warefare screams to the sound of thunders.
“her long red hair like a whip of fire” – simile. The texture, thickness and colour of Consuelo’s hair are being explicitly compared to a whip and to fire.
“from time to time she would let the monkey loose to look for a sweetheart in the jungle,” - pathetic fallacy. The author is attributing human feelings to Consuelo’s monkey to convey the idea that she would set the monkey free for him to copulate with some female monkey.
“free as a bird.” - simile. The author is explicitly comparing Consuelo’s freedom to that of a bird’s.
“her mind filled with images, smells, colors,” – visual and olfatory imges.
“not enough to make him rich, but enough to nourish his dreams.” – personification. Here, gold is attributed human characteristics to express that it was enough to motivate the man.
“His whistle of surprise would have set off a mule train.” – metaphor. The sound of the man’s whistled is compared to the one made when setting off a mule train.
“and both smiled the same smile.” – metaphor. The author means that Consuelo and El Portugués similed at each other at the same time. This metaphor is used to reinforce the idea of simultaneity and reciprocity.
“They set off into the jungle and soon were out of earshot of the Mission bell,” metaphor + synechdoche. The metaphor of being “out of earshot” is used to signify that Consuelo and El Portugués were very far from the Mission, and the noun phrase “Mission bell” is used to stand for the Mission as a whole.
“All day, crowing like roosters, they looked for the hens,” – simile. Here, Isabel Allende is explicitly comparing El Portugués and Consuelo’s behaviour when trying to catch hens to rooster’s behaviour.
“her nose bumped into four filthy sandals belonging to two friars from Extremadura ” – metonomy + metaphor. The author uses the noun phrases “nose” and “four filthy sandals belonging...” to refer to Consuelo and the two friars. By saying that Consuelo’s “nose bumped into four filthy sandals..”, the authors means that Consuelo met the friars at that moment.
“wild bananas and dwarf pineapple “ – pathetic fallacy. By using this variety of personification, the author means that the bananas were characteristic of that rare geographical place and that pinapples were small.
“On that long journey she wept all the tears stored in her soul, leaving none in reserve for later sorrows.” – hyperbole. This exaggeration is made to make clear how upset Consuelo was.
“where a nun with a jailer's key opened an iron door” – metaphor. By talking about a “jailer’s key,” the writer is comparing the Convent to a jail.
"Through prayer and toil shall you atone for your sins. I have come not to heal those of you who are whole, but to minister unto those who are suffering and afflicted. The shepherd rejoices more when he finds the lost sheep than in all the ninety and nine. Word of God, praise be His Holy Name, amen."
- allusion. This passage is an allusion to Christian prayers.
“she felt that she was suffocating.” – hyperbole. By using this overstatement, the author reinforces the idea that Consuelo felt that she couldn’t breath.
“she had no inkling that it was because of her light skin and eyes.” – metaphor + metonomy. By “she had no inkling” the author means that Consuelo didn’t supect that she was treated differently because of her being white. The author uses “light skin and eyes” to refer to her ethnicity and general physical traits.
Excerpt from “Eva Luna” by Isabel Allende
Missionaries took Consuelo in before she learned to walk; she appeared one day, a naked cub caked with mud and excrement, crawling across the footbridge from the dock like a tiny Jonah vomited up by some freshwater whale. When they bathed her, it was clear beyond a shadow of doubt that she was a girl, which must have caused no little consternation among them; but she was already there and it would not do to throw her into the river, so they draped her in a diaper to cover her shame, squeezed a few drops of lemon into her eyes to heal the infection that had prevented her from opening them, and baptized her with the first female name that came to mind. They then proceeded to bring her up, without fuss or effort to find out where she came from; they were sure that if Divine Providence had kept her alive until they found her, it would also watch over her physical and spiritual well-being, or, in the worst of cases, would bear her off to heaven along with the other innocents. Consuelo grew up without any fixed niche in the strict hierarchy of the Mission. She was not exactly a servant, but neither did she have the status of the Indian boys in the school, and when she asked which of the priests was her father, she was cuffed for her insolence. She told me that a Dutch sailor had set her adrift in a rowboat, but that was likely a story that she had invented to protect herself from the onslaught of my questions. I think the truth is that she knew nothing about her origins or how she had come to be where the missionaries found her.
The Mission was a small oasis in the heart of an expanse of voluptuous vegetation writhing and twisting from the banks of the river to the feet of the monumental geologic towers that rose toward the firmament like one of God's mistakes. There time is bent and distances deceive the human eye, persuading the traveler to wander in circles. The humid, heavy air smells of flowers, herbs, man's sweat and animal breath. The heat is oppressive, unalleviated by any breeze; the stones steam and blood boils in the veins. At dusk the sky is filled with phosphorescent mosquitoes whose bites produce endless nightmares, and the still night air carries the distinct cries of birds, the chattering of monkeys, and the distant roar of the waterfalls born high in the mountains to crash far below like the thunder of warfare. The modest mud-and-wattle Mission building, with its tower of woven stakes and a bell to toll for Mass, balanced, like all the huts, on piles driven into the mud of a river of opalescent waters whose banks evaporated in the reverberating light. The dwellings seemed to drift amid silent canoes, garbage, carcasses of dogs and rats, and inexplicable white blossoms.
Consuelo was easy to distinguish even from a distance, her long red hair like a whip of fire against the eternal green of that landscape. Her playmates were young Indians with swollen bellies, an impudent parrot that recited an "Our Father" salted with curses, and a monkey chained to a table leg; from time to time she would let the monkey loose to look for a sweetheart in the jungle, but he always returned to the same spot to scratch his fleas. Even in those days Protestants were everywhere, distributing their Bibles, preaching against the Vatican, and hauling their pianos through heat and rain so their converts could celebrate salvation in public song. Such competition demanded the total dedication of the Catholic priests, and they paid little attention to Consuelo, who was growing up scorched by the sun, poorly nourished on yucca and fish, infested with parasites, bitten by mosquitoes, free as a bird. Aside from helping with domestic chores, attending religious services and a few classes in reading, arithmetic, and catechism, she had no obligations; she roamed outdoors, sniffing the flora and chasing the fauna, her mind filled with images, smells, colors, and myths borne on the river current.
She was twelve when she met the man with the prospecting chickens, a weathered Portuguese who was dry and hard outside and bubbling with laughter inside. His birds pillaged the countryside, devouring anything that glittered, and after a certain amount of time their owner would slit open their craw and harvest his grains of gold--not enough to make him rich, but enough to nourish his dreams. One morning, El Portugués glimpsed a white-skinned girl with a blaze of hair, knee-deep in the swamp with her skirt tucked up around her legs, and thought he had suffered another of his periodic attacks of fever. His whistle of surprise would have set off a mule train. The sound reached the girl's ears; she looked up, their eyes met, and both smiled the same smile. After that day they met frequently: he, bedazzled, to gaze at her and she to learn to sing Portuguese songs.
"Let's go harvest gold," El Portugués said one day.
They set off into the jungle and soon were out of earshot of the Mission bell, deeper and deeper into the tangled growth along paths visible only to him. All day, crowing like roosters, they looked for the hens, catching them on the wing once they spied them through the dense foliage. She clamped them between her knees, and with one surgical slash he slit open the craw and stuck in his fingers to pull out the seeds of gold. If the hen survived, they stitched it up with needle and thread to continue to serve its owner; the others they put in a sack to sell in the village or use as bait. They burned the feathers because chicken feathers bring bad luck and spread the pip. Tangle-haired, Consuelo returned at dusk, content and spattered with blood. As she climbed the ladder from the rowboat to the terraced riverbank, her nose bumped into four filthy sandals belonging to two friars from Extremadura who were waiting for her with crossed arms and fearsome expressions of repudiation.
"It is time for you to go to the city," they said.
Nothing was gained by begging. Nor was she allowed to take the monkey or the parrot, two companions judged inappropriate for the new life awaiting her. She made the trip along with five native girls, all tied by the ankle to prevent their jumping from the pirogue and disappearing into the river. As he bid her farewell, El Portugués took one long last look at Consuelo; he did not touch her, but as a remembrance he gave her a tooth-shaped gold nugget strung on a cord. She would wear it around her neck most of her life, until she met someone she would give it to as a gift of love. El Portugués saw her for the last time dressed in a stained cotton jumper, a straw hat pulled down to her ears, barefoot and dejected, waving goodbye with one hand.
The journey began by canoe, down tributaries that wound through a landscape to derange the senses, then on muleback over rugged mesas where the cold freezes night thoughts, and finally in a truck, across humid plains through groves of wild bananas and dwarf pineapple and down roads of sand and salt; but none of it surprised the girl, for any person who first opens her eyes in the most hallucinatory land on earth loses the ability to be amazed. On that long journey she wept all the tears stored in her soul, leaving none in reserve for later sorrows. Once her tears were exhausted, she closed her lips, resolving from that moment forward to open them only when it could not be avoided. Several days later, when they reached the capital, the priests took the terrified girls to the Convent of the Little Sisters of Charity, where a nun with a jailer's key opened an iron door and led them to a large shady patio with cloistered corridors on four sides; in the center, doves, thrushes, and hummingbirds were drinking from a fountain of colored tiles. Several young girls in gray uniforms sat in a circle; some were stitching mattresses with curved needles while others wove wicker baskets.
The nun, hands hidden beneath the folds of her habit, recited something that sounded like "Through prayer and toil shall you atone for your sins. I have come not to heal those of you who are whole, but to minister unto those who are suffering and afflicted. The shepherd rejoices more when he finds the lost sheep than in all the ninety and nine. Word of God, praise be His Holy Name, amen."
Consuelo did not understand the meaning of that peroration; she did not even listen to it, she was too exhausted and too assailed by claustrophobia. She had never before been inside a walled enclosure, and when she looked up and saw the sky reduced to a rectangle, she felt that she was suffocating. When they separated her from her traveling companions and took her to the office of the Mother Superior, she had no inkling that it was because of her light skin and eyes. The Little Sisters had not received anyone like her in many years, only girls of mixed blood from the barrios, or Indian girls dragged there bodily by the missionaries.
“a naked cub” – metaphor. The author is implicitly comparing Consuelo to a puppy.
“like a tiny Jonah vomited up by some freshwater whale” – simile + allusion + personification + metaphor. The author is making an allusion to Jonah, the biblical character who is saved from being drowned by a whale by explicitly comparing Consuelo to this character. She also personifies water by saying that it “vomited” Consuelo and at the same time she’s implicitly comparing the river to a whale.
“which must have caused no little consternation among them;” – litotes. The author uses a restraint variety of understatement to express an affirmative idea by the negative of its contrary: she meant “which must have caused big consternation among them.”
!so they draped her in a diaper to cover her shame” – metaphor + sarcasm. The author is implicitly mocking religious beliefs which consider private parts and sexuality to be a shame.
“She told me that a Dutch sailor had set her adrift in a rowboat,” – allusion. Here, Isabel Allende is making indirect reference to Dutch expeditions in Chile and to the contact between the Dutch and the Chilean people.
“The Mission was a small oasis in the heart of an expanse of voluptuous vegetation” – metaphor. The mission is implicitly attributed characteristics of oasis.
“the feet of the monumental geologic towers that rose toward the firmament like one of God's mistakes.” – metaphor + hyperbole + simile. The author tries to describe the size of the geologic towers by saying that they were taller or as tall as the firmament. She’s also paraphrasing by using a metaphor and a simile the idea that those towers were geologic accidents.
“There time is bent and distances deceive the human eye,” – metaphor. The author is expressing that at that place time and space seem to fade or be different from known standards.
“The heat is oppressive, unalleviated by any breeze;(...) blood boils in the veins ” – hyperbole + metaphor + metonomy. This unrestraint variety of irony is used to express how oppressive the heat was by means of exaggeration, saying that there was no trace of wind and. By saying that “blood boils in the veins” the author means that people’s bodies suffered from heat very badly.
“and the still night air carries the distinct cries of birds, the chattering of monkeys, and the distant roar of the waterfalls born high in the mountains to crash far below like the thunder of warfare.” – personification + pathetic fallacy + onomatopoeia + personification + simile + metaphor. The author is attributing human characteristics to the night, to birds, monkeys and waterfalls. She means that the sounds produced by these animals could be heard at night. Also, by writing about the “cries of birds” and “chattering of monkeys,” the author is attributing human feelings to non-human beings. “Roar” is an onomatopoeic word, it phonologically resembles the sound produced by waterfalls. Here, waterfalls are personalized to mean where the water started to fall (high in the mountains). The way the water crashes is explicitly compared to a thunder of warfare. At the same time, the metaphor of a “thunder of warfare” is used to compare warefare screams to the sound of thunders.
“her long red hair like a whip of fire” – simile. The texture, thickness and colour of Consuelo’s hair are being explicitly compared to a whip and to fire.
“from time to time she would let the monkey loose to look for a sweetheart in the jungle,” - pathetic fallacy. The author is attributing human feelings to Consuelo’s monkey to convey the idea that she would set the monkey free for him to copulate with some female monkey.
“free as a bird.” - simile. The author is explicitly comparing Consuelo’s freedom to that of a bird’s.
“her mind filled with images, smells, colors,” – visual and olfatory imges.
“not enough to make him rich, but enough to nourish his dreams.” – personification. Here, gold is attributed human characteristics to express that it was enough to motivate the man.
“His whistle of surprise would have set off a mule train.” – metaphor. The sound of the man’s whistled is compared to the one made when setting off a mule train.
“and both smiled the same smile.” – metaphor. The author means that Consuelo and El Portugués similed at each other at the same time. This metaphor is used to reinforce the idea of simultaneity and reciprocity.
“They set off into the jungle and soon were out of earshot of the Mission bell,” metaphor + synechdoche. The metaphor of being “out of earshot” is used to signify that Consuelo and El Portugués were very far from the Mission, and the noun phrase “Mission bell” is used to stand for the Mission as a whole.
“All day, crowing like roosters, they looked for the hens,” – simile. Here, Isabel Allende is explicitly comparing El Portugués and Consuelo’s behaviour when trying to catch hens to rooster’s behaviour.
“her nose bumped into four filthy sandals belonging to two friars from Extremadura ” – metonomy + metaphor. The author uses the noun phrases “nose” and “four filthy sandals belonging...” to refer to Consuelo and the two friars. By saying that Consuelo’s “nose bumped into four filthy sandals..”, the authors means that Consuelo met the friars at that moment.
“wild bananas and dwarf pineapple “ – pathetic fallacy. By using this variety of personification, the author means that the bananas were characteristic of that rare geographical place and that pinapples were small.
“On that long journey she wept all the tears stored in her soul, leaving none in reserve for later sorrows.” – hyperbole. This exaggeration is made to make clear how upset Consuelo was.
“where a nun with a jailer's key opened an iron door” – metaphor. By talking about a “jailer’s key,” the writer is comparing the Convent to a jail.
"Through prayer and toil shall you atone for your sins. I have come not to heal those of you who are whole, but to minister unto those who are suffering and afflicted. The shepherd rejoices more when he finds the lost sheep than in all the ninety and nine. Word of God, praise be His Holy Name, amen."
- allusion. This passage is an allusion to Christian prayers.
“she felt that she was suffocating.” – hyperbole. By using this overstatement, the author reinforces the idea that Consuelo felt that she couldn’t breath.
“she had no inkling that it was because of her light skin and eyes.” – metaphor + metonomy. By “she had no inkling” the author means that Consuelo didn’t supect that she was treated differently because of her being white. The author uses “light skin and eyes” to refer to her ethnicity and general physical traits.
martes, 7 de septiembre de 2010
my baby, he's the cutest thing ever
he's sweet like candy
and gorgeous like heaven
he listens to van halen
and when i feel like there's no such Eden
he kisses me on the forehead
and soon everything's forgotten
then we start to think about the mortgage
and how we'd like to build our future
well, actually it's me who thinks about babies
while he'd rather get the rabies
he goes "we're still young, we'd better get some baileys"
oh my baby he's so clever
there's noone like him
no jim, no thomas, no trevor
they might say he's too rough, whatever
i really wish we were together forever
he's sweet like candy
and gorgeous like heaven
he listens to van halen
and when i feel like there's no such Eden
he kisses me on the forehead
and soon everything's forgotten
then we start to think about the mortgage
and how we'd like to build our future
well, actually it's me who thinks about babies
while he'd rather get the rabies
he goes "we're still young, we'd better get some baileys"
oh my baby he's so clever
there's noone like him
no jim, no thomas, no trevor
they might say he's too rough, whatever
i really wish we were together forever
domingo, 22 de agosto de 2010
Potter Book Quest on Facebook
Potter Book Quest is a book group with a reading list based off on John Granger's Harry Potter's Bookshelf... basically, it's a literary excursion through the books that influenced the sensational Harry Potter series! Many of these books are literary giants and some many may not have ever heard of.
Potter Book Quest is a book group with a reading list based off on John Granger's Harry Potter's Bookshelf... basically, it's a literary excursion through the books that influenced the sensational Harry Potter series! Many of these books are literary giants and some many may not have ever heard of.
lunes, 16 de agosto de 2010
I knew it! | Pride and Prejudice
How come I never thought about this before? Last night I decided to sort of shape the analysis of Pride and Prejudice, so I watched the movie starred by Keira Knightley which my aunt's friend Peter had recommended for so long. It was great for I could actually see the thoughts I had in my mind and of course I managed to organise them better. Today when I went down for lunch I turned on the TV and Bridget Jones' Diary was on Warner Channel. Of course I knew that Mark Darcy was Mr. Darcy, but I had never realized that Bridget was Lizzy, that Bridget's friends were Jane and Charlotte, that Bridget's mum was JUST LIKE Lizzy's mum, that both dads were equally sweet (though I believe Mr. Bennet to be much brighter and sensible), and of course! I realized that Daniel Clever was no other than Mr. Whickham. There's no sister running away, that's for sure, but Clever's constantly cheating on Bridget might well be parallel to Whickham's running away with Lydia. All these thoughts were running through my mind and I needed to confirm that I was right. And that's how thanks to google I found this great quiz http://www.funtrivia.com/flashquiz/index.cfm?qid=171219 I got 7 out of 10!
lunes, 9 de agosto de 2010
Jane Eyre Reading Journal | Post N°2
Unfortunately I must write that as Jane grew up my interest in the story declined :( The abundant instances of Romanticism are fading away and the visual images are becoming gloomier, leaving space for the Gothic to appear, with its supernatural features and its creepy tone. However, the story is keeping me on the edge of my....bed - i read a lot in bed lately - and the only thought of - so far - Grace Poole's laugh freaks me out. Well...perhaps the story is not that scary, but it frightens me all the same.
martes, 27 de julio de 2010
Jane Eyre Reading Jornal | Post N°1
I've tried to write an introduction to this reading journal but there are too many things I'd like to have a record of and too many ideas I can't really connect so I'll just write about random thoughts here. In the next post I'll write about the things that came to my mind as I read, in chronological order.
|Ch. 6|
You May Say I'm a (Day) Dreamer, but I'm Not the Only One
"- I am, as Miss Scatcherd said, slatterly; I seldom put, and never keep, things in order; I am careless; I forget rules; I read when I should learn m lessons; I have no method; and sometimes I say, like you, I cannot bear to be subjected to systematic arrangements. (...) One strong proof of my wretchedly defective nature is, that even her (Miss Temple's) exposulations, so mild, so rational, have not influence to cure me of my faults; and even her praise, though I value it most highly, cannot stimulate me to continued care and foresight. (...) your thoughts never seemed to wander while Mis Miller explained the lesson and questioned you. Now, mine continually rove away; when I should be listening to Miss Scatcherd, and collecting all she says with assiduity, often I lose the very sound of her voice; I fall into a sort of dream. Sometimes I think I am in Northumberland, and that the noises I hear round me are the bubbling of a little brook which runs through Deepden, near our house; - then, when it comes to my turn to reply, I have to be awakened; and having heard nothing of what was read for listening to the visionary brook, I have no answer ready."
"-Yet how well you replied this afternoon."
"It was mere chance; the subject on which we had been reading had interested me. This afternoon, instead of dreaming of Deepden, I was wondering how a man who wished to do right could act so unjustly and unwisely as Charles the First sometimes did; and I thought what a pity it was that, with his integrity and conscientiousness, he could see no farther than the prerogatives of the crown. If he had but been able to look to a distance, and see how what they call the spirit of the age was tending! Still, I like Charles - I respect him - I pity him, poor murdered king! Yes, his enemies were the worst: they shed blood they had no right to shed. How dared they kill him!"
I am very identified with this aspect of Helen's personality, "I cannot bear to be subjected to systematic arrangements" Uhh so clever! This is my new favourite quote. I liked seeing these feelings in written because if I ever had to explain why I am the way I am, I could never say it so well. Helen's day dreams when she's not interested about what some lessons are about and her reflections upon other subjects that do interest her have a lot to do with what I feel, think and do in class ever since I was a child. A
J.E, Don't Ever Change.
"... If people were always kind and obedient to those who are cruel and unjust, the wicked people would have it all their own way, they would never feel afraid, and so they would never alter, but would would grow worse and worse. When we are struck at without a reason, we should strike back again very hard; I am sure we should - so hard as to teach the person who struck us never to do it again."
I've found many instances of rebellion in this book so far. I dare say that Jane Eyre seems a true rebel. I like that and I specially liked the quotation above. The awful way in which Jane is treated by Mrs. Reed and her children is so well portrayed by the author that it actually hurts the reader, rather, it actually hurt this particular reader. The way she confronts her antogonists, however, fills one with pride and makes one really want to go on reading to find out whether she will go on being as contestatary as she is when she's a child.
Miss Scatcherd, a Symbol Standing for Society.
"Neat, punctual and particular" is the way Helen Burst describes Miss Scatcherd, whom might well be a symbol of British Society and expectations by that time.
|Ch. 6|
You May Say I'm a (Day) Dreamer, but I'm Not the Only One
"- I am, as Miss Scatcherd said, slatterly; I seldom put, and never keep, things in order; I am careless; I forget rules; I read when I should learn m lessons; I have no method; and sometimes I say, like you, I cannot bear to be subjected to systematic arrangements. (...) One strong proof of my wretchedly defective nature is, that even her (Miss Temple's) exposulations, so mild, so rational, have not influence to cure me of my faults; and even her praise, though I value it most highly, cannot stimulate me to continued care and foresight. (...) your thoughts never seemed to wander while Mis Miller explained the lesson and questioned you. Now, mine continually rove away; when I should be listening to Miss Scatcherd, and collecting all she says with assiduity, often I lose the very sound of her voice; I fall into a sort of dream. Sometimes I think I am in Northumberland, and that the noises I hear round me are the bubbling of a little brook which runs through Deepden, near our house; - then, when it comes to my turn to reply, I have to be awakened; and having heard nothing of what was read for listening to the visionary brook, I have no answer ready."
"-Yet how well you replied this afternoon."
"It was mere chance; the subject on which we had been reading had interested me. This afternoon, instead of dreaming of Deepden, I was wondering how a man who wished to do right could act so unjustly and unwisely as Charles the First sometimes did; and I thought what a pity it was that, with his integrity and conscientiousness, he could see no farther than the prerogatives of the crown. If he had but been able to look to a distance, and see how what they call the spirit of the age was tending! Still, I like Charles - I respect him - I pity him, poor murdered king! Yes, his enemies were the worst: they shed blood they had no right to shed. How dared they kill him!"
I am very identified with this aspect of Helen's personality, "I cannot bear to be subjected to systematic arrangements" Uhh so clever! This is my new favourite quote. I liked seeing these feelings in written because if I ever had to explain why I am the way I am, I could never say it so well. Helen's day dreams when she's not interested about what some lessons are about and her reflections upon other subjects that do interest her have a lot to do with what I feel, think and do in class ever since I was a child. A
J.E, Don't Ever Change.
"... If people were always kind and obedient to those who are cruel and unjust, the wicked people would have it all their own way, they would never feel afraid, and so they would never alter, but would would grow worse and worse. When we are struck at without a reason, we should strike back again very hard; I am sure we should - so hard as to teach the person who struck us never to do it again."
I've found many instances of rebellion in this book so far. I dare say that Jane Eyre seems a true rebel. I like that and I specially liked the quotation above. The awful way in which Jane is treated by Mrs. Reed and her children is so well portrayed by the author that it actually hurts the reader, rather, it actually hurt this particular reader. The way she confronts her antogonists, however, fills one with pride and makes one really want to go on reading to find out whether she will go on being as contestatary as she is when she's a child.
Miss Scatcherd, a Symbol Standing for Society.
"Neat, punctual and particular" is the way Helen Burst describes Miss Scatcherd, whom might well be a symbol of British Society and expectations by that time.
domingo, 11 de julio de 2010
Saving Ning Content
Further Twits!
These are some draft twits that I made before handing in Assignment N°1.
click on image to view larger
click on image to view larger
A Modern Version of the Wife of Bath.
October 9, 2009 at 12:48am
Starred by Julie Walters and Bill Nighy, this is a modern version of The Wife of Bath. These videos are part of a re-telling of The Canterbury Tales produced by the BBC.
End of the Year Post
December 24, 2009 at 1:04am
What was the most enriching/helpful/ etc aspect of this class?
I think that the articulation between Literature and Social Studies was very enriching because we could see what was going on in the world in economy, politics, etc, and how people expressed themselves at the same time, having a better and wider view of life in the world and in Britain at the different times in History.
What was the most disappointing/ useless/ etc aspect of this class?
I really must say that I didn't find any useless aspect of Literature, on the contrary, I was very happy with it because I'm very fond of Literature but I haven't got such a great knowledge about the subject and it was very enriching for my personal life.
What have I enjoyed most?
I enjoyed most our dealing with the Wife of Bath, I was really impressed with that piece of work.
What have I enjoyed least?
I would say that I didn't really enjoy dealing with the Elizabethean Sonnet, but that's just because of personal likes and dislikes really.
If I could have changed one thing about the class, what would it have been?
Being completely honest, I wouldn't change anything about the class, I really enjoyed it.
What can I do now that I couldn't do before taking this class? How am I planning to use what I have learnt?
Well as I said before, I found everything I've learnt very enriching and now I am able to look for pieces of work bearing in mind the theoretical knowled I now have.
I mean, if I go to a bookstore I have better tools to know what I want to get or read. Perhaps before I wouldn't know what to buy and just pick books from their cover or what it said in the back.
Apart from that, the way we dealt with the material can be applied to the reading of any book, which makes the reading much more fruitful.
What do I feel I haven't accomplished yet? What am I planning to do about it?
Well, to put it in a simple way I think I have yet a lot to learn about Literature and for the time being I'll do some research on my own. But in the future I'd like to do an Adscripción in Literature or perhaps the Licenciatura.
When I was at school I wanted to study Letras at Humanidades and it's still something I'd like to do, not to get the degree, but to actually learn.
What suggestions do I have for the class for next year?
I haven't got any suggestions, really. I like the way you deal with this class. Personally, I think the class was lively I didn't feel tired by its end, nor by the end of the year.
The Open Doors (Short Film Based on "The Open Window")
November 20, 2009 at 3:30pm
Today I found this short film based on Saki's short story, The Open Window. This is one of my favourite stories, I read it back in High School and then again for Language I. Vera is such a character! Well, this video is very interesting to actually see how the story develops - not only in your mind I mean. I was impressed by how they portrayed the room because it was exactly like I had pictured it. I hope you're able to see it, it's quite short really - it lasts about 8 minutes only. And hope you like it too!
These are some draft twits that I made before handing in Assignment N°1.
click on image to view larger
click on image to view larger
A Modern Version of the Wife of Bath.
October 9, 2009 at 12:48am
Starred by Julie Walters and Bill Nighy, this is a modern version of The Wife of Bath. These videos are part of a re-telling of The Canterbury Tales produced by the BBC.
End of the Year Post
December 24, 2009 at 1:04am
What was the most enriching/helpful/ etc aspect of this class?
I think that the articulation between Literature and Social Studies was very enriching because we could see what was going on in the world in economy, politics, etc, and how people expressed themselves at the same time, having a better and wider view of life in the world and in Britain at the different times in History.
What was the most disappointing/ useless/ etc aspect of this class?
I really must say that I didn't find any useless aspect of Literature, on the contrary, I was very happy with it because I'm very fond of Literature but I haven't got such a great knowledge about the subject and it was very enriching for my personal life.
What have I enjoyed most?
I enjoyed most our dealing with the Wife of Bath, I was really impressed with that piece of work.
What have I enjoyed least?
I would say that I didn't really enjoy dealing with the Elizabethean Sonnet, but that's just because of personal likes and dislikes really.
If I could have changed one thing about the class, what would it have been?
Being completely honest, I wouldn't change anything about the class, I really enjoyed it.
What can I do now that I couldn't do before taking this class? How am I planning to use what I have learnt?
Well as I said before, I found everything I've learnt very enriching and now I am able to look for pieces of work bearing in mind the theoretical knowled I now have.
I mean, if I go to a bookstore I have better tools to know what I want to get or read. Perhaps before I wouldn't know what to buy and just pick books from their cover or what it said in the back.
Apart from that, the way we dealt with the material can be applied to the reading of any book, which makes the reading much more fruitful.
What do I feel I haven't accomplished yet? What am I planning to do about it?
Well, to put it in a simple way I think I have yet a lot to learn about Literature and for the time being I'll do some research on my own. But in the future I'd like to do an Adscripción in Literature or perhaps the Licenciatura.
When I was at school I wanted to study Letras at Humanidades and it's still something I'd like to do, not to get the degree, but to actually learn.
What suggestions do I have for the class for next year?
I haven't got any suggestions, really. I like the way you deal with this class. Personally, I think the class was lively I didn't feel tired by its end, nor by the end of the year.
The Open Doors (Short Film Based on "The Open Window")
November 20, 2009 at 3:30pm
Today I found this short film based on Saki's short story, The Open Window. This is one of my favourite stories, I read it back in High School and then again for Language I. Vera is such a character! Well, this video is very interesting to actually see how the story develops - not only in your mind I mean. I was impressed by how they portrayed the room because it was exactly like I had pictured it. I hope you're able to see it, it's quite short really - it lasts about 8 minutes only. And hope you like it too!
sábado, 10 de julio de 2010
lunes, 25 de enero de 2010
Fave extracts from "The Wife of Bath"
"As in a noble household, we are told,
Not every dish and vessel's made of gold,
Some are of wood, yet earn their master's praise."
"In wifehood I will use my instrument
As freely as my Maker me it sent.
If I turn difficult, God give me sorrow!
My husband, he shall have it eve and morrow
Whenever he likes to come and pay his debt,
I won't prevent him! I'll have a husband yet
Who shall be both my debtor and my slave
And bear his tribulation to the grave
Upon his flesh, as long as I'm his wife.
For mine shall be the power all his life
Over his proper body and not he,
Thus the Apostle Paul has told it me,
And bade our husbands they should love us well;
There's a command on which I like to dwell..."
"No one can be so bold - I mean no man -
At lies and swearing as a woman can.
This is no news, as you'll have realizedm
To knowing ones, but to the misadvised.
A knowing wige if she is worth her salt
Can always prove her husband is at fault,
And even though the fellow may have heard
Some story told him by a little bird
Shw knows enough to prove the bird is crazy
And get her maid to witness she's a daisy,
With full agreement, scarce solicited."
"You say that some desire us for our wealth,
Some for our shapeliness, our looks, our health,
Some for our singing, others for our dancing,
Some for our gentleness and dalliant glancing,
And some because our hands are soft and small;
By your account the devil gets us all."
"Wherever I take wine I have to think
Of Venus, for as cold engenders hail
A lecherous mouth beges a lecherous tail,
A woman in her cups has no defence,
As lechers know from long experience."
"I think I loved him best, I'll tell no lie.
He was disdainful in his love, that's why.
We women have curious fantasy
In such affairs, or so it seems to me.
When something's difficult, or can't be had,
We crave and cry for it all day like mad
Forbid a thing, we pine for it all night,
Press fast upon us and we take to flight."
"Now that I felt provided with a mate
I wept but little, I need hardly state."
"I gave my whole heart up for him to hold.
He was, I think, some twenty winters old."
"I ever followed natural inclination
Under the power of my constelation
And was unable to deny, in truth,
My chamber of Venus to a likely youth,
The mark of Mars is still upon my face
And also in another privy place."
"Nor would I rebuke at any price;
I hate a man who points me out my vice,
And so, God knows, do many more than I."
"Mercury stands for wisdom, thrift and science,
Venus for revel, squanding and defiance."
"Lucilia out of lecherous delight.
For she, in order he might only think
Of her, prepared an aphrodisiac drink;
He drank it and was dead before the morning.
Such is fate of husbands, it's a warning."
"He spoke more harm of us than heart can think."
"Sir Knight, there's no way on from here.
Tell me what you are looking for, my dear,
For peradventure that were best for you;
We old, old women know a thing or two."
"The poor can dance and sing in the relief
Of having nothing that will tempt a thief."
"May I go howling mad and take my life
Unless I prove to be as good and true
As ever wife was since the world was new!
And if to-morrow when the sun's above
I seem less fair than any lady-love,
Than any queen or empress east or west,
Do with my life and death as you think best."
Not every dish and vessel's made of gold,
Some are of wood, yet earn their master's praise."
"In wifehood I will use my instrument
As freely as my Maker me it sent.
If I turn difficult, God give me sorrow!
My husband, he shall have it eve and morrow
Whenever he likes to come and pay his debt,
I won't prevent him! I'll have a husband yet
Who shall be both my debtor and my slave
And bear his tribulation to the grave
Upon his flesh, as long as I'm his wife.
For mine shall be the power all his life
Over his proper body and not he,
Thus the Apostle Paul has told it me,
And bade our husbands they should love us well;
There's a command on which I like to dwell..."
"No one can be so bold - I mean no man -
At lies and swearing as a woman can.
This is no news, as you'll have realizedm
To knowing ones, but to the misadvised.
A knowing wige if she is worth her salt
Can always prove her husband is at fault,
And even though the fellow may have heard
Some story told him by a little bird
Shw knows enough to prove the bird is crazy
And get her maid to witness she's a daisy,
With full agreement, scarce solicited."
"You say that some desire us for our wealth,
Some for our shapeliness, our looks, our health,
Some for our singing, others for our dancing,
Some for our gentleness and dalliant glancing,
And some because our hands are soft and small;
By your account the devil gets us all."
"Wherever I take wine I have to think
Of Venus, for as cold engenders hail
A lecherous mouth beges a lecherous tail,
A woman in her cups has no defence,
As lechers know from long experience."
"I think I loved him best, I'll tell no lie.
He was disdainful in his love, that's why.
We women have curious fantasy
In such affairs, or so it seems to me.
When something's difficult, or can't be had,
We crave and cry for it all day like mad
Forbid a thing, we pine for it all night,
Press fast upon us and we take to flight."
"Now that I felt provided with a mate
I wept but little, I need hardly state."
"I gave my whole heart up for him to hold.
He was, I think, some twenty winters old."
"I ever followed natural inclination
Under the power of my constelation
And was unable to deny, in truth,
My chamber of Venus to a likely youth,
The mark of Mars is still upon my face
And also in another privy place."
"Nor would I rebuke at any price;
I hate a man who points me out my vice,
And so, God knows, do many more than I."
"Mercury stands for wisdom, thrift and science,
Venus for revel, squanding and defiance."
"Lucilia out of lecherous delight.
For she, in order he might only think
Of her, prepared an aphrodisiac drink;
He drank it and was dead before the morning.
Such is fate of husbands, it's a warning."
"He spoke more harm of us than heart can think."
"Sir Knight, there's no way on from here.
Tell me what you are looking for, my dear,
For peradventure that were best for you;
We old, old women know a thing or two."
"The poor can dance and sing in the relief
Of having nothing that will tempt a thief."
"May I go howling mad and take my life
Unless I prove to be as good and true
As ever wife was since the world was new!
And if to-morrow when the sun's above
I seem less fair than any lady-love,
Than any queen or empress east or west,
Do with my life and death as you think best."
miércoles, 20 de enero de 2010
Poetry Anthology Book
http://www.pimpampum.net/bookr/index.php?id=9810
I chose:
- a 21st Century poem called "Some of My Happiest Moments in Life Occur in AOL Instant Messenger"
- one extract from Beowulf
- and another one from The Wife of Bath's Tale.
The reason I chose the first one is because I consider it a sad and moving yet lovely poem. I like it because I think it portrays very well how deeply the Internet has influenced and changed some people's lives - specially young people's - and also, how relationships have changed throughout history.
Though it might seem hard to understand, the use of the Internet has completely changed the way we communicate, and this is even reflected in poetry.
The picture is a snapshot of a Windows Live Messenger screen in which someone's screen name has been moved to the category "People I like Who Don't Like Me Back".
The picture attached to the extract from Beowulf is one of my parents. That part of the poem talks about King Hygelac, Queen Hygd and their castle. Since I tend to read poems from a subjective point of view and I enjoy trying to find similiraties between what the poem is about and nowadays' society or - as in this case - my personal life, I immediately related it to my house and my parents. Mainly, I found Hygd particularly similar in character to my mum, her role in my house and how generous and giving she is.
The last extract, the one from The Wife of Bath's Tale, I chose it because I agree on what the old lady says as regards poverty. I included a picture of a little aborigin girl from a refugees' camp drawing in the ground. It's amazing to see how despite the awful conditions under which they live, some people never lose their hope and happiness and live their lives in a simpler way. And as the extract says: "truly poor are they who whine and fret and covet what they cannot hope to get."
I was so excited about this activity that I had make "thicker" book for myself and included an extra extract from The Wife of Bath's Prologue, but the pictures won't show so I won't include the link in this post. Maybe if I re-make it I'll upload the link in another post.
I chose:
- a 21st Century poem called "Some of My Happiest Moments in Life Occur in AOL Instant Messenger"
- one extract from Beowulf
- and another one from The Wife of Bath's Tale.
The reason I chose the first one is because I consider it a sad and moving yet lovely poem. I like it because I think it portrays very well how deeply the Internet has influenced and changed some people's lives - specially young people's - and also, how relationships have changed throughout history.
Though it might seem hard to understand, the use of the Internet has completely changed the way we communicate, and this is even reflected in poetry.
The picture is a snapshot of a Windows Live Messenger screen in which someone's screen name has been moved to the category "People I like Who Don't Like Me Back".
The picture attached to the extract from Beowulf is one of my parents. That part of the poem talks about King Hygelac, Queen Hygd and their castle. Since I tend to read poems from a subjective point of view and I enjoy trying to find similiraties between what the poem is about and nowadays' society or - as in this case - my personal life, I immediately related it to my house and my parents. Mainly, I found Hygd particularly similar in character to my mum, her role in my house and how generous and giving she is.
The last extract, the one from The Wife of Bath's Tale, I chose it because I agree on what the old lady says as regards poverty. I included a picture of a little aborigin girl from a refugees' camp drawing in the ground. It's amazing to see how despite the awful conditions under which they live, some people never lose their hope and happiness and live their lives in a simpler way. And as the extract says: "truly poor are they who whine and fret and covet what they cannot hope to get."
I was so excited about this activity that I had make "thicker" book for myself and included an extra extract from The Wife of Bath's Prologue, but the pictures won't show so I won't include the link in this post. Maybe if I re-make it I'll upload the link in another post.
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