Literature in Film #3: To Kill a Mockingbird

I think this was one of the most heartbreaking trials I've ever watched in a movie. From the start of when he went up before the jury I could tell that there wouldn't be a happy ending to it because of how regardless of how sincere and innocent he sounded and actually was, he didn't stand a chance. When Atticus went up to plead with the jury, I found something so beautifully sad about what he was saying.

Thomas Jefferson once said that all men are created equal, a phrase that the government is fond of hurling at us. There is a tendency in this year of grace, 1935, for certain people to use that phrase out of context, to satisfy all conditions.

I've never read the book but I think, here, the author is trying to make note of the fact that our nation really isn't equal at all, that we have to state we are rather than just actually be. The context of this situation where it's a black man going against two white people in front of a jury filled with white discriminative people goes to prove this inequality because already, he is already hopeless before they can even hear his story but also doesn't stand a chance. 

I also thought that his kids being there to see the trial was very important, especially this one if any. It's nice to know that he's teaching them not to discriminate and this is the best way to explain why because it shows that it could mean life or death for somebody. 

Literature in Film #2: Precious

I've watched this movie so many times and never does it get easier to see what Precious has to go through but the ending is always so uplifting in the way that she becomes her own hero.

In the beginning of the movie when Precious is sitting in math class, she tells us that she wishes someone would break through to her, ultimately saving her from this harsh reality that she is living in with all types of abuse coming from those closest to her. I think the verbal abuse that she received from her mother convinced her, to some point, that she wasn't capable of achieving certain things but then there's something so powerful in the way that she makes this break through to herself by herself. We can give a bit of credit to her principal for informing her of Each One Teach One but what it really took was her drive to want to learn and create somethimg of herself.

Not only did she learn to read and write but she also learned a lot about herself; even from the first day when she sat in the front of the class and felt here. Towards the end of the movie, in the scene where Precious is sitting in the office next to the girl with the bruised eye, Shaina pointed out that it's sad how that little girl is ultimately going through the same situation. I thought Precious putting her red scarf around her was a way of saying, "You'll get through this, too".

The other day, I cried. But you know what? Fuck that day. That's why God, or whoever, makes other days.

Literature in Film #1: Rebel

I'm so proud of Anthony's work and happy that I got to see it (although I paid to see the viewing, didn't know we were gonna watch it in class). I've never seen Rebel but I've watched They Shoot Horses, Don't They? and I thought the cross referencing he did and where he incorporated the one scene from the movie was actually very powerful. It went a long way in showing just how disturbed the kid was even after we hear about how he wrote an essay about torturing kittens.
There were a lot of things I was still really confused about. Like who shot the kid he was racing with? Why? Or what was up with the trash bin covers? What was it that he wanted from the girl, there was never any conclusion as to what happened between the two of them. Wait, why were they even racing in the first place?
Lastly, I thought the cinematography was great. My favorite was the beginning when it showed shots of the main character as well as played the credits.

It was great, Anthony!

Poem #6: "Pass/Fail" Linda Pastan

"You will never graduate
from this dream
of blue books.
No matter how
you succeed awake,
asleep there is a test
waiting to be failed.
The dream beckons
with two dull pencils,
but you haven't even
taken the course;
when you reach for a book -
it closes its door
in your face; when
you conjugate a verb -
it is in the wrong
language.
Now the pillow becomes
a blank page. Turn it
to the cool side;
you will still smother
in all of the feathers
that have to be learned
by heart."

Linda Pastan's poem reflects both on the waking life of school as well as the stress it brings in ones sleep. It also argues that there are two types of exams, really, the ones you take while you're awake and the ones that haunt you in your sleep. Lines 1-7 are saying that no matter how successful you might be in your waking life with passing exams and getting good grades, there is something about it that follows you into your sleep. I think it might be the fear of failing that creates this stress that disturbs your sleep but I don't think it happens to just everyone. The speaker of the poem must be someone who encounters true anxiety or a sort of paralyzation when it comes to taking tests that causes them to do poorly (the speaker's probably me...).

"The dream beckons/ with two dull pencils,/ but you haven't even/ taken the course"; I'm not sure if these lines are measuring how unprepared one might feel to the point where they haven't even taken the course, or if it is saying that the stress and fear sets in before even having taken it at all. In terms of it being an exam in a dream, I think it means that it's just waiting for you to come and take it without any idea of what it could be on or. Reaching for a book or conjugating a ver in the wrong language could be signs of rejection and unavoidable failure that the dream has on you. The last 7 lines could mean that every time you go to sleep, the stress of exams will follow and therefore "...the pillow becomes/ a blank page".

Poem #5: "Sonnet 29: When, in disgrace with fortune and men’s eyes" Shakespeare

"When, in disgrace with fortune and men’s eyes,
I all alone beweep my outcast state,
And trouble deaf heaven with my bootless cries,
And look upon myself and curse my fate,
Wishing me like to one more rich in hope,
Featured like him, like him with friends possessed,
Desiring this man’s art and that man’s scope,
With what I most enjoy contented least;
Yet in these thoughts myself almost despising,
Haply I think on thee, and then my state,
(Like to the lark at break of day arising
From sullen earth) sings hymns at heaven’s gate;
     For thy sweet love remembered such wealth brings
     That then I scorn to change my state with kings."

I can see what Shakespeare is trying to get at. I think for the most part we've all been in that position where we look at our lives and choose to see the bad in that moment, for whatever reason, and it saddening. Shakespeare wishes for the talent, social life, and riches of another as opposed to what he does and the more he think about, the more depressing it gets and the more he'll weep, "Wishing me like to one more rich in hope...with friends possessed...this man's art and that man's scope". It's hard for me to think about and visualize one of the greatest playwrights comparing himself to anyone else. It shows that it is just human nature for anyone to do that.

What interesting, and something I will never understand about poetry in general, is this sudden change that turns everything around. In the tenth line, he brings in someone else, "Haply I think on thee". Without any say as to who that might be, just the mere thought of this person was all it took to uplift his state of mind. "For thy sweet love remembered such wealth brings...", meaning that the remembrance of this love must bring a wealth greater than any of that in the world, making him feel rich again but just in a different way, from love.

Poem #4: "My Papa's Waltz" Theodore Roethke

"The whiskey on your breath
Could make a small boy dizzy;
But I hung on like death:
Such waltzing was not easy. 

We romped until the pans
Slid from the kitchen shelf;
My mother’s countenance
Could not unfrown itself. 

The hand that held my wrist
Was battered on one knuckle;
At every step you missed
My right ear scraped a buckle. 

You beat time on my head
With a palm caked hard by dirt,
Then waltzed me off to bed
Still clinging to your shirt."

I felt that Theodore Roethke's poem was very heavy; reading it really made me feel a sort of deep sadness, like melancholy, although I think it has to do with father issues that I have in my own life.

What I questioned throughout the poem was if the father was really dancing or if it was just a literary technique the author incorporated to visually represent his movements, or to even soften them if, in reality, they were violent and rough. I just find something really beautiful about his poem. It's this contrast between destruction, which the father sort of brings in with his heavy intoxication and how the smell is so powerful it could "make a small boy dizzy" as well as the mother's sadness as she watches, but the most admirable part is that the boy isn't even ignorant to his father's drunkenness. Now that I think about it, maybe the father is actually really gentle and just wanted to dance with his son but because he's drunk, it turned to be a little rough. In the end the boy is still clinging to his father's shirt which should means that he enjoyed the dance.

Have you ever seen a part of a movie where it's an action scene but instead of hearing the fighting and the guns, there's opera playing in the background over the whole thing? That's the way I pictured this poem. With the two of them roughly waltzing in the kitchen as the mother watches and opera music crescendos in the background over the sound of the destruction and pans falling.

Poem #3: "Rite of Passage" Sharon Olds

"As the guests arrive at our son’s party
they gather in the living room—
short men, men in first grade
with smooth jaws and chins.
Hands in pockets, they stand around
jostling, jockeying for place, small fights
breaking out and calming. One says to another
How old are you? —Six. —I’m seven. —So?
They eye each other, seeing themselves
tiny in the other’s pupils. They clear their
throats a lot, a room of small bankers,
they fold their arms and frown. I could beat you
up, a seven says to a six,
the midnight cake, round and heavy as a
turret behind them on the table. My son,
freckles like specks of nutmeg on his cheeks,
chest narrow as the balsa keel of a
model boat, long hands
cool and thin as the day they guided him
out of me, speaks up as a host
for the sake of the group.
We could easily kill a two-year-old,
he says in his clear voice. The other
men agree, they clear their throats
like Generals, they relax and get down to
playing war, celebrating my son’s life."

The image that Sharon Old's "Rite of Passage" depicts for me is a group of little kids with their sleeves rolled up, about to tussle. It's interesting to me how the speaker of the poem, who is the mother of one of these little men, can see these kids as sort of small figurines of men of the future or amateur business men in the making.

The actions of the kids, such as eyeing each other, looking like "a room of small bankers", folding their arms and frowning, and this competitiveness of trying to let one know that they could easily be beaten by the other proves true to this model of grown, business like men. Kids pick up on things very easily and so it made me think that maybe they got this behavior from watching their fathers or male figures. Lately, what I've come to believe is the idea that kids are now pushed into growing up too early; for them to already look like bankers at the kid's birthday party is kind of sad. When the speaker's son suggests that "We could easily kill a two-year-old", it's scary to think of that sort of violence coming out of a little kids mouth and even more upsetting to realize that they already know about such things and that their force could outweigh that of at two year old. What I don't understand is how the mother couldn't say anything about it.

Poem #2: "To My Dear and Loving Husband" Anna Bradstreet

"If ever two were one, then surely we.
If ever man were loved by wife, then thee.
If ever wife was happy in a man,
Compare with me, ye women, if you can.
I prize thy love more than whole mines of gold,
Or all the riches that the East doth hold.
My love is such that rivers cannot quench,
Nor ought but love from thee give recompense.
Thy love is such I can no way repay;
The heavens reward thee manifold, I pray.
Then while we live, in love let’s so persever,
That when we live no more, we may live ever."

The first thing that came to my mind after I read the poem was that it was very bland and cheesy and basic. She clearly loves her husband very much and prizes him more than gold mines but I think it's the way that she went about explaining it that made it seem so.. boring. It felt like one of those things teenage girls scribble on the margins of their notebooks. Compared to Shakespeare's Sonnet 130, the reason why it was so interesting to read was because of the faults he managed to point out in his mistress against other women in love poems. In the end, the message was that regardless of these faults what makes her so beautiful was her ordinary-ness. There wasn't complexity within the writing of the poem but rather the purpose behind it and I think that makes it even more meaningful, at least in some cases.

Anna Bradstreet's poem to her husband talks about that kind of love most of us hope to find, I think. The one that makes us write really cheesy poems about how it's the best thing ever and can't be compared to anything else or anyone else's love. On the other hand, when I read this poem it felt like having to listen to a friend go on about their boyfriend.

Poem #1: "Death, be not proud" John Donne

"Death, be not proud, though some have called thee
Mighty and dreadful, for thou art not so;
For those whom thou think'st thou dost overthrow
Die not, poor Death, nor yet canst thou kill me.
From rest and sleep, which but thy pictures be,
Much pleasure; then from thee much more must flow,
And soonest our best men with thee do go,
Rest of their bones, and soul's delivery.
Thou art slave to fate, chance, kings, and desperate men,
And dost with poison, war, and sickness dwell,
And poppy or charms can make us sleep as well
And better than thy stroke; why swell'st thou then?
One short sleep past, we wake eternally
And death shall be no more; Death, thou shalt die."

I loved the attitude of the speaker in this poem; it made me feel like he was talking in a way where he was trying to stick it to Death and let him know that he isn't that great or anything to be feared.

Although poems like these are hard for me to understand because of the old English, what I understood from the beginning when reading it over again was that the speaker is telling death he shouldn't be proud when people call him "Mighty and dreadful" because he really isn't and he holds no power over the speaker. He says that all that's ever mentioned about Death is pictures of rest and sleep, which to him is nothing more than a source of pleasure. The most powerful lines to me in the poem were "Thou art slave to fate, chance, kings, and desperate men" because, here, it's like the ultimate burn and he lets Death know that he's not even really in charge or gets to decide when one dies.

I believe the speaker of the poem has a very valid point about treating death as just a long, permanent sleep. I think the reason as to why that is is because, to me, it's not dying that I'm afraid of but how I die. So the idea of thinking about it as nothing more than an enjoyable rest is actually comforting. 

Dylan Thomas "Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night" Reflection

   When I first read the poem, I thought it was really beautiful and inspiring how he went about basically saying that when the time has come in your old age, you should fight and "rage" against death rather than simply submit to it. I was able to pick up on some of the pattern that the poem has, it was also very easy to visualize any imagery that the author was using. What was very interesting was how he managed to juxtapose these old characteristics that the men have with powers that are way beyond their capability, "Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay". Reading it the second time around helped me to focus in on the structure more and analyze where and when the author uses literary elements so I could better asses why.

   

Sylvia Plath's "Mirror" Reflection

   When it came to reading Sylvia Plath's Mirror the first time around, I loved how the poem was one big personification of these objects, the lake and the mirror, and it was the idea that they are reflecting on what they literally reflect. I've always thought it to be very difficult to write a something in the perspective of an inanimate object but now that I think it about it, it might not be so bad because they would be capable of doing whatever it is you write them to do. It was a bit hard, at times, to visualize the images they were depicting, like when the mirror says, "The eye of a little god, four-cornered" or when the lake says, "Rises toward her day after day, like a terrible fish". What I question is if whoever is speaking is this abstract idea of reflection or the actual mirror and lake.
   Reading it again helped me to focus more on the structure of the poem and the different elements that the author uses to put it together. It also gave me a chance to try and identify any patterns or rhymes that it might consist and if so, where they are at.
Answering the questions was very hard for me because I realized some were asking things that I had either completely missed within the text or disregarded as a major detail. Also, some questions have answers where more than one can fit, it's just that one usually more literal in meaning while the other is abstract. It makes it hard to answer what the author means by something when you have choices like that, so I think I would need more instruction about those types of questions.

How to Analyze Literature: 3, 2, 1

   There were many points throughout the packet that stuck out to me, either because they were new or I had never paid attention to them and how they effected the structure or meaning of the story as a whole. One point was when it said, "Guard against the temptation to assume that the narrator is the author...there is always some distance between the author and narrator".  I can't say I've ever taken into consideration this distance between the two components and how much it could change the story. Through these narrators is how the author relays the story but some might not be as reliable as we perceive them to be. The closer they are, the more accurate the story but the farther, the more distorted it becomes. That is something I would want to take note of when analyzing the structure of the story. A second point, and one that is completely new to me is, "When an event can't be explained by whatever preceded it, ask why the author withheld that information". This is actually a very good point because I had never thought to back track the events to take note of what the author's purpose was or what they wanted to create.Third, and the one that I can never get right, is the meaning of the work as a whole. "Themes are truths-as the writer sees them- about life, so a statement of theme will never mention characters or details from a work BECAUSE THOSE ELEMENTS ARE FICTIONAL". That makes so much sense and I wish I knew that before. I always try to relate what's in the text to the real world but completely disregard that what's in the text isn't in the real world.

   One thing I think I could still work on is how to actually break down the text so that I could be able to analyze the different elements that compose it. Rather than what happens in the beginning, and the end. Another thing is not just being able to see what the author does, but also being able to see why they do it and the ability to clearly explain the purpose behind it. "No what without why".

   One skill I feel I know very well is noting the pace and rhythm of the text as well as the changes within it.