Pg. 129, “ I watch the other girls dress up as goddesses and Trojan women. They wear gold scarves wound tight around their necks and foreheads. They all wear flowers in their hair and flat pink ballet slippers.” The writer used allusions of Greek mythology in this story.…
Even her broken dream - to be an actress - suggests that she is attempting to break from the conventional sphere of the woman; no matter how naive her dream, it is essentially a working woman's dream, not a housewife's. Her appearance and her dream harken back to the earlier 'good times' of the 'Roaring '20s', when women won the right to vote and began entering the workforce, and were able to begin openly acknowledging their sexual desires: yet, ten years later, this same liberality is used to beat women down and pin them as the cause of Depression. Her clothing, then, perhaps, is a sign of the…
Lily in appearance is a young teen who is fourteen years old, with ‘un-cool’ clothes and wild hair. Her clothes are un-cool because she makes them herself and T. Ray doesn’t want to waste money on things like clothes for young girls. Lily believes her eyes are nice like ‘Sophia Loren’s’ and that she doesn’t have much of a chin. Her description of her hair was that ‘it was constantly going off in eleven wrong directions’ and that her ‘black hair is a nest of cowlicks’. She is disappointed with how she looks and thinks that she has a hard time ‘being a girl’.…
Sherman Alexie recalls his childhood memory of learning to read, and his teaching experience in “The Joy of Reading and Writing: Superman and Me”. He devotes his interest to reading. By this way, he breaks the stereotype that Indian boys are expected to be stupid and dumb, and later on he becomes a successful writer because of his endeavor to read. Alexie vividly narrates his younger life by using metaphor and repetition with a confident tone, in order to strengthen his description of his reading talent, his influence to the other Indian boys and how he struggles in poverty to change his life.…
The author says, "Hair that looked to be all feathers and a half-moon smile." The author doesn't exactly mean that the girl has feathers for her, just that her hair is light and not much to it. Just implying that her hair is very easy and simple to manage but odd at the same time. Also in that line the author talks about "a half-moon smile." Not that the girl has half of the moon on her face but that she gave a smile that was small but bright. Something that could make anyone feel better by seeing it when they do. Most likely the "half-moon smile," was a sign of reassurance.…
Her fantasies are the effect of her trying to uncover the mystery of what is hidden behind the wallpaper.…
My verbal language has always been a large aspect of my personality, and I believe it is also like this for everyone else. From my very early toddler years, the way I have learned to speak has been in hands of my environment, not mine. My voice is who I am, where I come from, and where I have been.…
Do we all learn to read and write the same exact way? The answer is simply no, learning how to read and write happens differently for every person, some rely on parents or grandparents while others rely on themselves or teachers. After reading Sherman Alexie’s: The Joy of Reading and Writing: Superman and Me I saw how just how different people have it growing up in the education system. After reading his story I began to notice just how differently I had it growing up. Alexie, for the most part was self-taught, I myself had to rely on parents and grandparents. Learning something like reading and writing has a lot to do with the situation or environment a person grows up in, if they are expected to succeed they will be pushed to learn the concept. This is where Alexie and I start to travel in different paths.…
It is within the wallpaper that the narrator finds her hidden self and her eventual freedom. Her obsession with the paper begins subtly and then consumes both the narrator and the story. Once settled in the gothic setting, the narrator is dismayed to learn that her husband has chosen the top-floor nursery room for her. The room is papered in horrible yellow wallpaper, the design of which “commits every artistic sin”. The design begins to fascinate the narrator and she begins to see more than just the outer design. At first she sees “bulbous eyes” and “absurd unblinking eyes . . . everywhere”. The wallpaper consumes the narrator offering up more intricate images as time passes. She first notices a different colored sub-pattern of a figure beneath the top design. This figure is eventually seen as a woman who “creeps” and shakes the outer pattern, now seen as bars. This woman-figure becomes essentially the narrator’s doppelganger or double trapped behind the bars of her role in…
In this story, there are two essential characters, Caitlin and Mary, who lead and help develop the story. Caitlin, the protagonist and also the round character, who envies the beauty of Mary "we loved and hated and feared her with the same fervency that we might a goddess."(201), is ordinary and somewhat self-abased "of cause, being no different from most girls, I didn't love my body"(203). Unlike Caitlin, Mary is charming, confident and she is often sought by the boys."I still remember that Mary Louise had long legs...and dark eyes."(201)…
The narrator provides evidence that classifies the figure she sees as a real being: “I see her in that long shaded lane, creeping up and down.” This quote reveals how close the narrator is to completely being insane. When the narrator tears down the wallpaper in an attempt to free the trapped figure she states, “I’ve got out at last,’… ‘in spite of you and Jane? And I've pulled off most of the paper, so you can't put me back!”. At this moment, the narrator has been completely consumed by her own reality. She names the figure Jane and states that she is Jane. The figure behind the wallpaper symbolizes the narrator. The figure is trapped behind the wallpaper as the narrator is trapped in her own reality and in the nursery by her husband. Jane’s “temporary nervous depression” is at its peak at this point because she cannot distinguish her own reality from actual…
They were a perfect match, like Barbie and Ken. Samantha looked like a Victoria’s Secret model; lean, long brown hair, arched eyebrows, high cheekbones, green cat eyes so bright they looked like stars, and a walk so graceful, she resembled an angel. She was unreal. And her boyfriend? Drew was a Calvin Klein model. Jet black, tousled hair. Tanned Skin. Milk chocolate brown eyes. The guy every girl wanted. Yet, he loved his Victoria Secret model with all his heart, despite her flaws. He would never leave her for another girl-no matter how perfect that girl appeared to be- because he was in love with Samantha.…
Reading “The Joy of reading and Writing: Superman and Me,” gave me a different perspective of reading and writing. Sherman Alexie, who grew up on the Spokane Reservation in Wellpinit, Washington, explains his life as an Indian boy, and how reading and writing helped his life to succeed. Alexie purposes is to discuss how he first learned how to read and write, his intelligence as a young Indian boy, and Alexie as an adult teaching creative writing to Indians children. Alexie learned not only how to read but to love reading. He used his love of reading to propel himself through the school system, removing himself from the stereotypical to be dumb, quiet, poor, and to fail in life.…
The second-person narrative is a narrative mode in which the protagonist or another main character is referred to by employment of second-person personal pronouns and other kinds of addressing forms, for example the English second-person pronoun "you"or "your".…
One beautiful April morning, on a narrow side street in Tokyo's fashionable Harujuku neighborhood, I walked past the 100% perfect girl.Tell you the truth, she's not that good-looking. She doesn't stand out in any way. Her clothes are nothing special. The back of her hair is still bent out of shape from sleep. She isn't young, either - must be near thirty, not even close to a "girl," properly speaking. But still, I know from fifty yards away: She's the 100% perfect girl for me. The moment I see her, there's a rumbling in my chest, and my mouth is as dry as a desert.Maybe you have your own particular favorite type of girl - one with slim ankles, say, or big eyes, or graceful fingers, or you're drawn for no good reason to girls who take their time with every meal. I have my own preferences, of course. Sometimes in a restaurant I'll catch myself staring at the girl at the next table to mine because I like the shape of her nose.But no one can insist that his 100% perfect girl correspond to some preconceived type. Much as I like noses, I can't recall the shape of hers - or even if she had one. All I can remember for sure is that she was no great beauty. It's weird."Yesterday on the street I passed the 100% girl," I tell someone."Yeah?" he says. "Good-looking?""Not really.""Your favorite type, then?""I don't know. I can't seem to remember anything about her - the shape of her eyes or the size of her breasts.""Strange.""Yeah. Strange.""So anyhow," he says, already bored, "what did you do? Talk to her? Follow her?""Nah. Just passed her on the street."She's walking east to west, and I west to east. It's a really nice April morning.Wish I could talk to her. Half an hour would be plenty: just ask her about herself, tell her about myself, and - what I'd really like to do - explain to her the complexities of fate that have led to our passing each other on a side street in Harajuku on a beautiful…