The Sunset Limited

Earlier in the semester, I wrote on Franz Kafka’s In the Penal Colony. In that paper I talked about the idea that reality is only a matter of perspective. A person’s circumstances determine what their reality is, which then affects how they view certain ideas. I think it’s interesting that McCarthy’s The Sunset Limited seems to display this same idea.

Both of these stories seem to illustrate what happens when two opposing “realities” collide. When two strong forces come head-to-head, one must submit or else they’ll destroy each other. In Kafka’s tale, the Officer realized he was alone in his ideals of justice, and he decided to die alongside his beliefs. In Sunset Limited, however, Black and White continued to throw their beliefs at each other until they were both desperate and confused. In both stories, neither party could possibly fathom the ideas of the other. What seemed to be an absolute truth to one was complete nonsense to the other. Both sides seem to view the world as black and white, even while insisting that it isn't.

The Raven

The Raven is probably Poe’s most famous poem, and one that most people have heard or read at least once. For me, though, it’s really something special. The Raven was one of the first poems I ever learned, and it is what kindled my love for Poe and really opened my eyes to the darker side of fiction.

I loved this poem from the very first time I heard it, probably when I was in elementary school. I liked the images of this menacing bird appearing out of nowhere to haunt this poor man, but I really loved the way the poem sounded. The rhythm and flow of the poem is almost enticing. It pulls you in from the very beginning and tosses you around on all these waves of emotion, slowing down and speeding up with the thoughts of the speaker, until you’re almost screaming along with him at the end. I also remembering feeling proud, in elementary school, when I could go back to this poem and begin naming some of the elements— alliteration, onomatopoeia, imagery, allusion.

I know sound can add so much to a poem, and The Raven, along with Alfred Noyes’ The Highwayman, has always been one of my favorite poems to read aloud. One of my favorite bands, Omnia, has a version of the poem set to music, and it is absolutely amazing.  

Response to Theodore Roethke's My Papa's Waltz

My Papa's Waltz

Theodore Roethke

The whiskey on your breath

Could make a small boy dizzy;

But I held 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.

Dancing with a Liar

Amily Sommers

You dance this dance that once was ours,

Performed only within our home,

While outside you were wide-eyed,

Innocent,

Such a sweet little girl.

You liked the dance too much, it seems,

Now you've decided to share.

No longer sweet, no longer pure, you’re just

The dancer.

And everyone knows.

You pay no heed to rigid rules,

You ignore stark consequences,

You just twirl and weave around them all,

Waltzing

Where you please. 

You fancy yourself too great for us,

The master of your art,

But what you can’t see is that your graceful dance

Is like a toddler’s

First steps.

Response to Andrew Hudgins' Begotten

On Family

Amily Sommers

When I was young, I would pretend

That I belonged to another family.

And they would come and whisk me away,

And I would be something great.

It only takes one look, however,

To chase my daydreams away.

I can disown my family no more

Than they could deny me.

I can see myself in my mother,

My face, my height, my shape,

My unruly hair which can never be tamed,

And my love for all things dark.

I see myself in my father too,

My awkward personality,

The way we always wish to speak,

But never know the words.

The resemblance is in my siblings too;

We’re so similar it’s creepy.

Six children with only two faces,

And all of the same behaviors.

Like others, I can look at my family

And see exactly what I am,

But where others might dread this revelation,

I see it as a comfort.

No matter where I go in life,

Or how far apart I stand,

There will always be a place I can return to,

A place where I belong.

“419” (H 174) from Fascicle 15

“We grow accustomed to the Dark.” This first line gave me a heavy sense of reluctant acceptance. It brought to mind images of a person suffering silently, resigned to their fate, no longer caring what hardships life threw at them. By the end, though, the poem had a whole new tone. It seemed to ring of feathered hope, sometimes flitting out of reach, but never truly leaving.

In Dickinson's poem, only “the Bravest” begin to grope around in the dark. It takes courage to face one’s obstacles when we’re not sure where they are, but the ones who sit still and do nothing will remain trapped in the darkness indefinitely.

To me, then, this poem seemed to serve as a reminder that there will always be “Dark” times, but no matter how much or how little time we spend in the dark, there will always be a shift, a click in our minds, where “the Darkness alters” and we are once again able to see the path ahead. Even if we stumble and walk into some trees, there will always come a time when “Life steps almost straight.”

Black and White are characters from the manga Grey Is... by DeeJuusan, an emotional and really heart-wrenching story about two friends who are trapped in their own darkness, found here.

The Birth-Mark

Nathaniel Hawthorne's The Birth-Mark seems to be all about the cost of taking things for granted, and not being satisfied with what you have. The only other work of Hawthorne's that I've read is The Scarlet Letter, but I noticed that they both have the theme of acceptance. Interestingly enough, I also noticed that both stories had characters that died because of acceptance, but while Dimmesdale was able to find peace in death after finally accepting his sin, Georgiana was killed because she and her husband could not accept her birthmark.

When the story began with Aylmer mulling over his wife's birthmark, saying that her beauty made the mark that much more hideous, I knew that this story would not end well. When Georgiana said that she would rather die than live with her birthmark, I began to believe that that may very well be the outcome. And when Aminadab muttered "If she were my wife, I'd never part with that birth-mark", I knew for certain that Georgiana was going to die. Perhaps I've just read too many dark and twisted tales, but that line just seemed to scream "foreshadowing!"

Of course, I was right. Aylmer wasn't satisfied with Georgiana's beauty as long as she wasn't perfect. He couldn't accept that one small blemish, and in his efforts toward perfection, he lost her completely. Even Georgiana said something similar just before she died. The part that struck me the most, though, was Aminadab's chuckling. Described as short, bulky, grimy, and covered with shaggy hair, I couldn't help but think of Frankenstein's Igor. This man, seeming almost sub-human compared to Aylmer and Georgiana, had more wisdom than either one of them. He knew they should have left the mark alone, and he was the only one not surprised by the potion's effects.

The Cask of Amontillado

I was really looking forward to reading Poe’s The Cask of Amontillado for this week despite the fact that I’ve read it before, because it is an amusing tale.

We learn from the first sentences that Fortunato has done something to insult the narrator, though we’re never told what, and he states that he will have his revenge. This does an excellent job of bringing suspense, because we have no idea what Montresor is planning until the end. He also states a rather interesting philosophy, which is that revenge isn’t revenge unless the victim is caught completely and totally unawares, by some severe act of vengeance. If Poe’s characters have anything in common, it’s that they never do anything halfway.

I think the parts that were most amusing to me were the hints of mockery and foreshadowing while going through the vaults. Montresor tells Fortunato his family motto, “Nemo me impune lacessit”, No one provokes me with impunity. He toasts Fortunato “To your long life”, and repeatedly inquires about his cough. He later pulls out a trowel and tells Fortunato he is a mason, and Poe points out in his description of the vault the pile of bones from which Montresor pulls out the building stones and mortar a few sentences later.

All in all, The Cask of Amontillado is delightfully suspenseful and intriguing, laced with Poe’s dark humor.  

The Cask of Amontillado, by AbigailLarson