Response to Ernest Hemingway’s “Hills Like White Elephants”

My reading of Hills Like White Elephants was the first time I had ever read any material by Ernest Hemingway. Luckily I read the introduction to the story before I started reading, or I would surely have missed the point. Since I did read the introduction, however, I was able to appreciate the effectiveness of Hemingway’s focus on understated dialogue and subtly placed clues that describe the atmosphere and the tension in the situation.

Hemingway’s understated dialogue never explicitly describes the fact that the woman is talking about having an abortion, and it doesn’t need to. Hemingway’s point, it seems, is twofold. First, it seems that he is trying to describe a relatively commonplace situation while keeping the reader’s interest. He does this by generating a rapid-fire, back-and-forth dynamic in the dialogue, mainly by using as few tags and intermediate descriptions as possible during the couple’s actual discussion. This makes the reader read faster, which in turn makes the story seem to be moving at a more aggressive pace. Second, it seems that Hemingway wants to generate tension without outwardly generating it. This is generated, in large part, by the characters’ few well-placed actions. Most of these actions involve the individuals or the couple drinking a different kind of drink. Even the conversation focuses on what they will drink in between bouts of argument. Little clues, like the woman’s focus on the hill and the poster and everything except for her boyfriend, demonstrate her nervousness and unease.

Despite the tension Hemingway generates (the white elephant in the room, if you will), his dialogue still shines through the fact that the characters truly care for each other. The playfulness of her conversation, even at the most upset moment, just feels to the reader like something that two people who are very in love would say. An example of this is when the woman is trying to change the subject and says, “Would you please please please please please please please stop talking?” This is not something said out of scorn, but instead out of frustration and fear. It is said with her desire to be comfortable during the time of the most difficult decision in her life.

Hemingway does not flatly state any of this. It can all be implied strictly from the tone and careful placement of the few words and actions that make up Hills Like White Elephants. After reading this, I intend to read many more works by Ernest Hemingway.

Response to Virginia Woolf’s “A New Dress”

Much like in John Cheever’s The Swimmer, the part of Virginia Woolf’s A New Dress that I found most interesting is ability to maintain the pace of her story and to generate an emotional response in the reader.

Unlike in The Swimmer, where the pace was brisk and pulled the reader along, Mabel’s description of her preparation for and attendance at a fancy party drags the reader along grudgingly. The reader feels angst towards turning the page because he thinks (according to Mabel) that some evil or embarrassment is certainly coming with her attendance of the party. Even when she is at the party, and the worst sort of embarrassment has happened at the hands of Charles Burt, who announces that Mabel has a new dress to the entire party. I think the specific technique she uses to generate this feeling is frequent tone shifting. Woolf describes Mabel’s thoughts of how beautiful she looks in her dress and then immediately crushes Mabel’s spirit with thoughts like “And now the whole thing has vanished.”

Woolf keeps the reader attached enough to the story that they will continue reading, even though they feel uncomfortable about encountering the approaching storm of humiliation. This flow contributes to the reader’s ability to get into Mabel’s consciousness.

More important to this awareness of Mabel’s consciousness, however, is in the form of Woolf’s ability to express the frailness and jumpy nature of Mabel’s mind. Woolf does this by employing stream of consciousness techniques, which focus on recreating, in the reader’s mind, the feelings, observations, and thought processes that are going on inside the character’s mind. By using such techniques, she allows the reader to understand the anxiousness that Mabel experiences. The repeated description of the fly trying to escape the saucer is especially effective at this. By the end of the story, the reader almost feels as though they are awkwardly placed at the party and just want to go home.

Response to John Cheever's "The Swimmer"

In The Swimmer, John Cheever maintains a sense of urgency and excitement during Neddy Merrill’s journey home through the swimming pools of his neighbors, up until the very end when Merrill comes to an unfortunate discovery. This is accomplished through two primary means. First, the story never takes a moment for Neddy to rest. Second, each subsequent neighbor interacts with both Neddy and the reader on very different levels.

The perpetual motion in The Swimmer is evident throughout the story, especially when Neddy interacts with his neighbors and when he struggles to escape each new home. The interaction with each neighbor is evidenced in the scene where Enid Bunker vitually drags Neddy out of the pool. As she kisses him and drags him through the crowd of kissing women and handshaking men, Neddy’s anxiousness peeks through. The scene could easily be converted into a short film due to moments like this, along with some neat scenery associated with the changing of the season. The excitement continues as soon as he breaks free and jogs along the garden path. Each interaction has a moment like the one with Enid Bunker—Neddy is glad at first to see his friends, but quickly becomes impatient or frightened and keeps moving. This cyclic building and releasing of tension and “awkward moments” keeps the reader engaged, despite the confusion.

The contrasting interpretations of Neddy’s interactions with his neighbors by Neddy and by the reader lead to an interesting mix of humor, confusion, and sympathy for the strange fate of Neddy. Even the inattentive reader (like myself) begins to pick up on hints that Neddy has been the victim of an unpleasant fate when he arrives at the Halloran household. The elderly (and nudist) Mrs. Halloran kindly welcomes Neddy, but confesses her sympathy over the loss of his house and about the fate of his children. Neddy is confused at this idea, insisting that his girls are at home and that the house is fine. There are seeds before this that something is wrong, but this really puts the nail in the coffin. Poor Neddy has lost his mind. All the same, Cheever’s presentation of Neddy’s excitement for his journey makes it hard not to like Neddy and hope that he really is just on a journey home.

In summary, Cheever generates a remarkable response in his reader by keeping the story moving with an exciting, though not entirely realistic, story line while grounding the story in the sad tale of Neddy Merrill.

Response to Pink Floyd's "Echoes"

I wanted to analyze a poem with powerful imagery, so I started looking through the Seagull Reader for the right poem to review. Then it occurred to me–why not analyze the imagery of one of the poems most familiar to me? I decided to dissect the imagery of the lyrics of Pink Floyd’s Echoes.

The song is an epic 23 minutes and 31 seconds of soaring guitar and keyboard solos, carnival sounds, and thick atmospheric vocal harmonies. For years, I have appreciated the ability of the sounds and the music in Echoes to produce a powerful emotional response in the listener. However, I have never spent the time to analyze the effect of the lyrics themselves. By examining the rhyming patterns and use of potent imagery, I discovered a potent, poetic piece of literature that even further contributes to the sense of atmosphere and generates emotional response from the song.

Despite the length, there are only three vocal sections—each consisting of a verse and a chorus, which consist of six lines and four lines respectively. Each verse line is of inconsistent length, but they all use iambic meter, with extra stresses on the first syllable of the first and fourth lines of each verse. The choruses are strictly iambic, although the words “And no one” that begin almost each line of the chorus are nearly anapestic in the way that they are stressed in the recording.

There is no strictly consistent rhyme scheme during the verse, although the second two verses use end rhyme on the first and second lines, while the first verse rhymes on the second two lines. The chorus uses end rhyme between the second and third lines, all of which rhyme with “eyes.” The chorus also repeats the phrase “And no-one” at the beginning of all but two of the twelve lines of chorus. This creates a sense of repetitiveness that lulls the listener into the cyclic motion of the music. While the rhyme and repetition of the lyrics of Echoes certainly draws the reader into the repetitive motion of the music, the real magic of these lyrics lies in the imagery that they create.

The first verse defines an image of an albatross flying over the green water of a coral reef. This coincides with “birdcalls” generated by David Gilmour’s guitar playing. All of the choruses don’t directly interact with the adjacent verses, but instead call out about the fact that no one is in control of how we act. The second paints a picture of “Strangers passing in the street/By chance two separate glances meet.” The verse continues to discuss the concept that both of these people are one and the same and together, despite their apparent separation. The third verse generates an image of the waking narrator who is invited and incited to rise and see the sunlight in the form of “A million bright ambassadors of morning.” Interestingly, this verse almost directly mimics a verse in The Beatle’s Across the Universe:

Sounds of laughter

Shades of life are ringing through my open ears

Inciting and Inviting me.

Limitless undying love which

Shines around me like a million suns and calls me on and on

Across the universe.

Perhaps this verse is a tribute, considering that Echoes was published in 1972, only three years after the 1969 release of Across the Universe on the Let It Be album. Either way, it is an effective scene and generates a strong desire for the listener to almost stand and check the nearest window.

Like much of Pink Floyd’s early music, Echoes is probably best not thought of as a story, but instead as a serious of images and mindsets that can be contemplated as a unit or in separation. However you listen and associate these verses to one another, there is no doubt that your mental state will be filled with some form of elaborate images over the course of the epic Echoes.

First Thanksgiving (A Prose Poem)

The fire still licked at the stone; the rock hard stone that was covered in flammable juices. On it, her skin sat before them: browned, steamed, smoked. She smelled of fat that dripped off her sides. The skin felt crisp, a drying leaf bending just a little before breaking. Below the smoking blanket rests a deep, white mattress of flesh. Chunks of parallel running fibers tear from each other by little fingers. Little fingers attached to little hands attached to little arms controlled by a little brain of a little human: eyes wide and savage, mouths wide and dripping saliva. As flesh led to flesh led to flesh, the hungry fingers tore and tore and tore, ripping chunks of moist, fibrous joy; joy that was still hot enough to scald the little fingers; joy that was placed onto the cold, dirty floor. The big human with the big beard and the big hair, flowing from head to back to foot, called out a note from the horn in his neck. He spoke no coherent sentence, but the little humans understood—they stood back. Big human picked up a rock: gray, cold, sharp, rough. Hacking away, one bone came off, covered in dark, moist flesh and black skin. Then another, and another, and another, and then there were four piled on the ground. Limbs made a fire pit over the tinder of flesh. Big human picked up a limb, smelled the bone, and slammed it into his beard. They all jumped onto the platter and devoured the fire. So went the First Thanksgiving.

Post-writing analysis:

I thought that writing a prose poem was a unique experience, one that is quite different from either traditional poetry or traditional prose. I’m glad that I tried it after having gone through both units, because it gives me an appreciation for the hybrid nature of the form. I feel that it is less structured than either traditional form, which frankly I don’t like. I like the structure because it gives me a tangible framework within which I can focus my efforts.

Also, I find that poetry lets me express emotional states and sensual states, while traditional fiction allows me to create a sense of character and empathy. With the prose poem, the only thing I felt I was able to develop was an awkward sense of trying too hard to be both poetic and syntactically logical. I don’t think I plan on writing more prose poems any time soon, although I like the concept of writing traditional short stories with some amount of rhythm, and potentially with rhyme… What a cool idea! (The Greeks were smart J…)

Technical Review of Thomas Hardy’s "The Convergence of the Twain – Lines on the Loss of the Titanic"

This poem examines the R.M.S. Titanic’s triumph while she sailed, the bleakness of her sunken remains, and the might of the iceberg that tore her apart.

The poem is broken into three line stanzas. Interestingly, Hardy aligns the first two lines of each stanza in the center above the third so that the stanza looks like a triangle. For instance:

(Underscores are spaces in the printed version)
________In a solitude of the sea
________Deep from human vanity,
And the Pride of Life that planner her, stilly couches she.

The pattern might represent the Titanic, the tides that have flowed past her since she sunk in 1912, or the passenger’s view of the iceberg that sunk the ship. Either way, it creates a sonic ebb and flow when reading the poem. Also contributing to this flow is Hardy’s use of end rhyme, which he applies to all three lines in each stanza.

There is no consistent line length for first, second, and third lines in each stanza. Most stanzas in the poem, however, contain twenty-five or twenty-six syllables, and exhibit iambic behavior when read as a complete stanza, as opposed to line by line. Considering the use of lines as visual elements, this is a sensible approach to structuring each stanza. A few substitutions are allowed for long, descriptive words. This implies that vocabulary drove sections of the poem more than meter.

Hardy generates clear, cruel imagery in the readers mind when describing the ship’s rotting, cold carcass that lies on the bottom of the sea. Of particular note is the following passage:

______Over the mirrors meant
______To glass the opulent
The sea-worm crawls-grotesque, slimed, dumb, indifferent.

Thomas Hardy’s examination of the R.M.S. Titanic demonstrates the effectiveness of carefully structured verse in transporting a reader directly to a different time and place.

Pumpkin's Last Day (Original Composition)

I needed a few more pages of poetry for class, and decided that I would write a song to fulfill the requirement. The song discusses a pumpkin's journey to your pie crust from his own perspective. Lyrics are listed below the media player I apologize for the following:

• The vocals - I'm not a singer (and I had the hardest time getting the microphone not to clip during the second part
• The over-indulgent use of distorted guitar - I bought a new toy and wanted to play around :)

So without further ado, Pumpkin's Last Day:



Lyrics:

(Part 1)
Chilly air
Blows beneath the covers of the changing of the colors
I am sitting here
On soil where my family's graves have paved the way
For me

Trampling feet
Of children and their mothers and their oversized grey shovels
It's me they'll eat
I will die inside their ovens, my fate is sealed in morning muffins.

Pies, herbivorous demise.
My goodbye

Groceries,
Placed upon the counter, they share my final hour
Soon my seeds,
Roasted then devoured, they'll never plant and flower.

Pies, herbivorous demise.
My goodbye

(Part 2)

Bake me!
Scald me!
Melt my skin!
Rape me!
Scar me!
Scrape my insides out!