Element of Essay

READING MAKES WRITING PERFECT!

Element of Essay

Four Essays and Commentaries

1) The Essay as Argument: Persuasion

Cocksure Women and hen sure Men by D.H Lawrence

D. H. Lawrence was an inspired and controversial writer who, among other things,
championed the regeneration of the individual through sexual love. He was the pioneer of
modern psychological fiction, unsurpassed in powerful depiction of human passions and
conflicts. E. M. Forster called him, “the greatest imaginative novelist of our time.”

Lawrence’s stormy and controversial affair with and subsequent marriage to Frieda von
Richthoffen, the mother of three small children, became a prime source for his fiction. He
also utilized the enduring battle between his doting mother and coal miner father.

Lawrence championed the “free,” modern woman and her right to an independent
existence, and he criticized both men and women--the former for promulgating
stereotypes of women and the latter for trying to live up to them. Lawrence maintained,
“The problem of the day is the establishment of a new relation . . . between men and
women.”

Since beauty is a question of experience, not of concrete form, no one can be as acutely
ugly as a really pretty woman. When the sex-glow is missing, and she moves in ugly
coldness, how hideous she seems, and all the worse for her externals of prettiness. -- New
Sex Versus Loveliness

When a woman is thoroughly herself, she is being what her type of man wants her to be.
When a woman is hysterical it’s because she doesn’t quite know what to be, which
pattern to follow, which man’s picture of woman to live up to. -- New Give Her a Pattern

Just as there are many men in the world, there are many masculine theories of what
women should be. . . . The Romans produced a theory or ideal of the matron, which fitted
in very nicely with the Roman property lust. “Caesar’s wife should be above suspicion.”--
So Caesar’s wife kindly proceeded to be above it, no matter how far below it the Caesar
fell. Later gentlemen like Nero produced the “fast” theory of woman, and later ladies
were fast enough for everybody. Dante arrived with a chaste and untouched Beatrice, and
chaste and untouched Beatrices began to march self-importantly through the centuries.
The Renaissances discovered the learned woman, and learned women buzzed mildly into
verse and prose. Dickens invented the child-wife, so child-wives have swarmed ever
since. George Eliot imitated this pattern, and it became confirmed. The noble woman, the
pure spouse, the devoted mother took the

field, and was simply worked to death. . . .There are, of course, other types. Capable men
produce the capable woman ideal. Doctors produce the capable nurse. Businessmen
produce the capable secretary. And so you get all sorts. You can produce the masculine
sense of honour . . . in women, if you want to.
-- Give Her a Pattern

Women don’t change. They only qo through a rather regular series of phases. They are
first the slave; then the obedient helpmate; then the respected spouse; then the noble
matron; then the splendid woman and citizen; then the independent female; then the
modern girl . . . [and then] the slave once more, and the whole cycle starts afresh, on and
on, till in the course of a thousand years or two we come once more to the really
“modern” girl.
-- Do Women Change?

There are two aspects to women. There is the demure and the dauntless. Men have loved
to dwell . . . on the demure maiden whose inevitable reply is: Oh, yes, if you please, kind
sir! The demure maiden, the demure spouse, the demure mother - this is still the ideal. A
few maidens, mistresses and mothers are demure. A few pretend to be. But the vast
majority are not. And they don’t pretend to be. We don’t expect a girl skillfully driving
her car to be demure, we expect her to be dauntless. What good would demure and
maidenly Members of Parliament be, inevitably responding: Oh, yes, if you please, kind
sir! .... . The girl who has got to make her way in life has got to be dauntless, and if she
has a pretty, demure manner with it, then lucky girl. She kills two birds with two stones.
-- New Cocksure Women and Hensure Men

There are the women who are cocksure, and the women who are hensure. A really up-to-
date woman is a cocksure woman. She doesn’t have a doubt nor a qualm. She is the
modern type. Whereas the old-fashioned demure woman was sure as a hen is sure, that is,
without knowing anything about it. She went quietly and busily clucking around, laying
the eggs and mothering the chickens in a kind of anxious dream that still was full of
sureness. But not mental sureness. Her sureness was a physical condition, very soothing,
but a condition out of which she could easily be startled or frightened.
-- Cocksure Women and Hensure Men

Cocksure Women and Hensure Men

Summary:

In D.H Lawrence’s essay “cocksure women and hensure men,” he tells us that women
should stay home and take care of the family while the husband goes out and supports the
family. He noticed in his time, (1920’s), women were starting to fall out of that specific
lifestyle. Women were becoming independent, opinionated, and entering the work force.
Lawrence gives us an idea of how a woman should be in his opinion when he says, “The
demure maiden, the demure spouse, the demure mother-this is still the ideal.” We notice
that Lawrence still believes that women should follow that old standard of a woman, a
housewife. She should have kids, cook, clean, be beautiful, and submissive.

Lawrence has two ideas of how women are: hensure or cocksure. The hensure woman is
the demure housewife. She is agreeable and loving. She has children and happily raises
them and that is her career. Her family is her job and her fulfillment in life. The cocksure
woman doesn’t have children. Instead she has a job and an opinion. Lawrence gives us
his impression of a cocksure woman when he says, “A really up-to-date woman is a
cocksure woman. She doesn’t have a doubt or a qualm. She is the modern type.”
Lawrence tells us that a cocksure woman is very confident and is sure of herself.
Lawrence believes that really a hensure woman is surer of herself than a cocksure woman
is. “In her own dim surety, the hen is really much surer than the cock, in a different way.
She marches off to lay her eggs, she secures obstinately the nest she wants, she lays her
eggs at last, then steps forth again with prancing confidence, and gives the most assured
of all sounds, the hens cackle of a bird who had laid her egg.” Lawrence seems to believe
that the best thing a woman can do in her life is to have kids. When she does, she is more
confident and fulfilled than anyone else, no matter what they are doing. I think every
woman is different and some women may feel just as fulfilled in their jobs as other
women feel about their children and family. Some women are not satisfied being a
housewife. Some career women aren’t satisfied with their lifestyle either and might rather
be a housewife. I disagree with Lawrence when he says “The cock, who is never so sure
anything as the hen is about the egg she has laid.” Again Lawrence is telling us that a
woman having kids and raising a family is more self-assured and fulfilled than a career
woman. I think many people are just as fulfilled as the happiest housewife who are living
much different lifestyles. Lawrence believes that this fulfillment of a mother as compared
to a career woman becomes very apparent in the later stages of life. “So we have the
tragedy of a cocksure woman. They find, so often, that instead of having laid .

2) The Essay as story: History

The Hurled Ashtray by Nora Ephron

Summary:

‘The Hurled Ashtray’ is a narrative essay written by Nora Ephron. The essayist tracks
down and comments on the changing ideologies of female referring to some stories. Also,
the reasons beyond, coldness between man-woman relationships is the essayist’s concern.
Her first story is about Gary Cooper, celebrate of her time. At a restaurant in London,
when teddy boys mock at on a woman, Copper stands on his feet to make them leave the
place. He seems to be a patron of the woman.
In second story, at a restaurant in London, Mrs Korda offends Mr. Korda who has hurled
an ashtray at some drunks for one of them sent a sex proposal to the Kordas’ table. Mrs.
Korda feels insecurity not from the drunks but from her possessive husband.
Thirdly, the essayist mentions the diverse responses of her friends to the Kordas’ incident.
Therefore, she becomes skeptical towards marital relationship between Mr. and Mrs.
Korda. She also raises critical questions, which she supposes to be inconvenient ones to
have clear-cut answers.
The essay has been focused on the incident of Kordas. Mrs. Korda does not bother about
the bread-pieces thrown upon her by the drunks. Even without enquiring clearly, she
shouts at her husband’s aggressive reaction. She criticizes his patronizing behavior. She
loathes being his mere asset; a doll who is caressed or ignored. But, her feeling of being a
subordinate member of a male chauvinistic society is not the only cause of the conflict.
She agitated due to unhappy and dissatisfied marital relation with her husband.
The stories of Cooper and Korda could have been reflecting the contrasting scenarios of
female status, before and after the Feministic Movement respectively. The essay’s final
lines are discernible for the essayist’s preference to improvised version of patriarchy.
Both, the traditional patriarchal and so-called modern feministic approaches enhance
chaotic and anarchical situations. In order to maintain intimacy between man and woman,
tolerance, proactive attitudes, co-operation and understanding are required.

3) The Essay as Poem: Meditation

Spring (April 1941) by E.B White

As a meditative essay, the writer does not lead us to any specific direction but he writes
whatever comes in his mind. He himself confesses that intoxicating moments of the
spring has inspired him to meditate upon the things that go around him. The writer is on
the doubt whether his hog will have the lambs or not. As she was coupling there was a
chance of having lambs but it was not still sure about it. However she had seven lambs
last year on Sunday looking at the past, it could be guessed that she would continue
regeneration. Abruptly, the writer shifts his attention from hog to superman. He was told
that the representative of the superman was visiting the library but no hints of being a
superman were seen with him. He was an average sized man. Perhaps the writer is
criticizing the so-called superiority of Hitler. He thinks him to be just an average man.
Again the writer shifts his subject matter from superman to “LITTLE WOMAN”. The
family next door has finished reading the book entitled, the little woman. it was a very
tiring experience for the family. In fact, reading about a woman at the climax of the war
was untimely but the writer gives the contrast between destructive superman and
regenerative woman (mother).

Spring is the best season for animals not only for breeding but also for making
themselves strong. Just as, the human beings are intoxicated by the spring so are the
animals. Especially lambs enjoy the spring and they are enabling for regeneration. From
lamb, the writer talks about snake and starling. Due to the long effect of writer, no snake
has been seen outside yet whereas the starlings have finished their work of regeneration
by laying the eggs and hatching them. After talking about the birds and animals, the
writer talks about the fun, excitement and vitality that the spring brings after the captivity
of the writer. The people readily welcome the spring and they tried to make their life
worth of living. The human beings are want to want with the nature.

While flickering his thought the writer starts thinking about a broader, slope that helps to
support the life of the chicks. The writer meditated that the broader stove is beneficial for
a chicken farm year. But it was not as helpful as a hen. He argues that a hen has a larger
vocabulary than a stove. Besides, the temperature in a stove is unstable whereas a hen can
keep her temperature fixed and support the life of her chicks. Moreover a stove remains
in one place and consequently the chicks have to huddle together to make their survival.
Whereas a hen can move to different places and see, makes the maximum amount of life
and survive. In addition to this the red colls come out of the stove and it might threaten
the life of chicks. Out no treat is there for the chicks from the hen.

Speaking at the time of crisis, the writer feels that he is almost like a fool to talk about
and insignificant things like brooding stove at chicken farm yard. He makes the minute
observation of the chicken from yard and he makes sharp contrast with the trained people
of his contemporary time. In fact, the people were walking with burning fire of the WWII
in their mind and they were talking about blood and victory but the writer talk about
blood, non-victory for his main concern which was the contents of the egg, “countries
ram shacked vallies drenched with blood”. Though untimely I still publish my belief in
egg…” This expression clarifies that being indifferent to the outer happenings; the writer
strongly supports the concepts of regeneration. In other words, the writer focuses on life
and regeneration. Even though the situation is hostile to his expectations.

As a meditative essay, this essay lacks the power of persuasion but it is a mistake to
conclude that this essay does not persuade. The self assertions of the writer persuade the
readers that they have to stand for life even in the critical moments. Moreover human
beings have to learn something from the nature that after the death of the winter, there is
inevitable regeneration of the spring. In this essay, we do not find any analogies but the
symbolic tread of the spring those ties up all the ideas of the writer in a single tread or a
line. Thus the writer is successful in persuading his ideas to his readers.

4) The Essay as Play: Dialogue

Primarily an essay is concern with ideas, emotions and feelings but these ideas are not
always portray to the readers directly by the essayist himself for he might speak through
his characters. In other wors an essay might take the form of a play and the ideas are
presented in the form of a dialogue. In a dramatic essay, the characters are the spokemen
of the writer, the dialogue serves as a form of debating ideas and the plot works as a form
of testing ideas.

Dramatic essay is not a new concept for it which was largely used by the classical like…..
Our Graves in Gallipoli by E.M Froster

Scene: the summit of Achi Baba, an exposed spot, looking out across the Dardanelles
towards Asia and the East. In a crevice between the rocks lie two graves covered by a
single heap of stones. No monument marks them, for they escaped notice during the
official survey, and the heap of stones has blended into the desolate and austere outline of
the hill. The peninsula is turning towards the sun, and as the rays strike Achi Baba the
graves begin to speak.

FIRST GRAVE: We are important again upon earth. Each morning men mention us.

SECOND GRAVE: Yes, after seven years' silence.

FIRST GRAVE: Every day some eminent public man now refers to the "sanctity of our
graves in Gallipoli."

SECOND GRAVE: Why do the eminent men speak of "our" graves, as if they were
themselves dead? It is we, not they, who lie on Achi Baba.

FIRST GRAVE: They say "our" out of geniality and in order to touch the great heart of
our nation more quickly. Punch, the great-hearted jester, showed a picture lately in which
the Prime Minister of England, Lloyd George, fertile in counsels, is urged to go to war to
protect "the sanctity of our graves in Gallipoli." The elderly artist who designed that
picture is not dead and does not mean to die. He hopes to illustrate this war as he did the
last, for a sufficient salary. Nevertheless he writes "our" graves, as if he was inside one,
and all persons of position now say the same.

SECOND GRAVE: If they go to war, there will be more graves.

FIRST GRAVE: That is what they desire. That is what Lloyd George, prudent in
counsels, and lion-hearted Churchill, intend.

SECOND GRAVE: But where will they dig them?

FIRST GRAVE: There is still room over in Chanak. Also, it is well for a nation that
would be great to scatter its graves all over the world. Graves in Ireland, graves in Irak,
Russia, Persia, Inia, each with its inscription from the Bible or Rupert Brooke. When
England thinks fit, she can launch an expedition to protect the sanctity of her graves, and
can follow that by another expedition to protect the sanctity of the additional graves. That
is what Lloyd George, prudent in counsels, and lion-hearted Churchill, have planned.
Churchill planned this expedition to Gallipoli, where I was killed. He planned the
expedition to Antwerp, where my brother was killed. Then he said that Labour is not fit to
govern. Rolling his eyes for fresh worlds, he saw Egypt, and fearing that peace might be
established there, he intervened and prevented it. Whatever he undertakes is a success. He
is Churchill the Fortunate, ever in office, and clouds of dead heroes attend him. Nothing
for schools, nothing for houses, nothing for the life of the body, nothing for the spirit.
England cannot spare a penny for anything except her heroes' graves.

SECOND GRAVE: Is she really putting herself to so much expense on our account?

FIRST GRAVE: For us, and for the Freedom of the Straits. That water flowing below us
now--it must be thoroughly free. What freedom is, great men are uncertain, but all agree
that the water must be free for all nations; if in peace, then for all nations in peace; if in
war, then for all nations in war.

SECOND GRAVE: So all nations now support England.

FIRST GRAVE: It is almost inexplicable. England stands alone. Of the dozens of nations
into which the globe is divided, not a single one follows her banner, and even her own
colonies hang back.

SECOND GRAVE: Yes... inexplicable. Perhaps she fights for some other reason.

FIRST GRAVE: Ah, the true reason of a war is never known until all who have fought in
it are dead. In a hundred years' time we shall be told. Meanwhile seek not to inquire.
There are rumours that rich men desire to be richer, but we cannot know.

SECOND GRAVE: If rich men desire more riches, let them fight. It is reasonable to fight
for our desires.

FIRST GRAVE: But they cannot fight. They must not fight. There are too few of them.
They would be killed. If a rich man went into the interior of Asia and tried to take more
gold or more oil, he might be seriously injured at once. He must persuade poor men, who
are numerous, to go there for him. And perhaps this is what Lloyd George, fertile in
counsels, has decreed. He has tried to enter Asia by means of the Greeks. It was the
Greeks who, seven years ago, failed to join England after they had promised to do so, and
our graves in Gallipoli are the result of this. But Churchill the Fortunate, ever in office,
ever magnanimous, bore the Greeks no grudge, and he and Lloyd George persuaded their
young men to enter Asia. They have mostly been killed there, so English young men must
be persuaded instead. A phrase must be thought of, and "the Gallipoli graves" is the
handiest. The clergy must wave their Bibles, the old men their newspapers, the old
women their knitting, the unmarried girls must wave white feathers, and all must shout,
"Gallipoli graves, Gallipoli graves, Gallipoli, Gally Polly, Gally Polly," until the young
men are ashamed and think, What sound can that be but my country's call? and Chanak
receives them.

SECOND GRAVE: Chanak is to sanctify Gallipoli.

FIRST GRAVE: It will make our heap of stones for ever England, apparently.
SECOND GRAVE: It can scarcely do that to my portion of it. I was a Turk.

FIRST GRAVE: What! A Turk! You a Turk? And I have lain beside you for seven years
and never known!

SECOND GRAVE: How should you have known? What is there to know except that I am
your brother?

FIRST GRAVE: I am yours...

SECOND GRAVE: All is dead except that. All graves are one. It is their unity that
sanctifies them, and some day even the living will learn this.

FIRST GRAVE: Ah, but why can they not learn it while they are still alive?

His comrade cannot answer this question. Achi Baba passes beneath the sun, and so long
as there is light warlike preparations can be seen on the opposite coast. Presently all
objects enter into their own shadows, and through the general veil thus formed the stars
become apparent.

Robert Frost: The Figure a poem makes

Abstraction is an old story with the philosophers, but it has been like a new toy in the
hands of the artists of our day. Why can't we have any one quality of poetry we choose by
itself? We can have in thought. Then it will go hard if we can't in practice. Our lives for it.

Granted no one but a humanist much cares how sound a poem is if it is only a sound. The
sound is the gold in the ore. Then we will have the sound out alone and dispense with the
inessential. We do till we make the discovery that the object in writing poetry is to make
all poems sound as different as possible from each other, and the resources for that of
vowels, consonants, punctuation, syntax, words, sentences, meter are not enough. We
need the help of context- meaning-subject matter. That is the greatest help towards
variety. All that can be done with words is soon told. So also with meters-particularly in
our language where there are virtually but two, strict iambic and loose iambic. The
ancients with many were still poor if they depended on metres for all tune. It is painful to
watch our sprung-rhythmists straining at the point of omitting one short from a foot for
relief from monotony. The possibilities for tune from the dramatic tones of meaning
struck across the rigidity of a limited metre are endless. And we are back in poetry as
merely one more art of having something to say, sound or unsound. Probably better if
sound, because deeper and from wider experience.

Then there is this wildness whereof it is spoken. Granted again that it has an equal claim
with sound to being a poem's better half. If it is a wild tune, it is a Poem. Our problem
then is, as modern abstractionists, to have the wildness pure; to be wild with nothing to be
wild about. We bring up as aberrationists, giving way to undirected associations and
kicking ourselves from one chance suggestion to another in all directions as of a hot
afternoon in the life of a grasshopper. Theme alone can steady us down. just as the first
mystery was how a poem could have a tune in such a straightness as metre, so the second
mystery is how a poem can have wildness and at the same time a subject that shall be
fulfilled.

It should be of the pleasure of a poem itself to tell how it can. The figure a poem makes.
It begins in delight and ends in wisdom. The figure is the same as for love. No one can
really hold that the ecstasy should be static and stand still in one place. It begins in
delight, it inclines to the impulse, it assumes direction with the first line laid down, it runs
a course of lucky events, and ends in a clarification of life-not necessarily a great
clarification, such as sects and cults are founded on, but in a momentary stay against
confusion. It has denouement. It has an outcome that though unforeseen was predestined
from the first image of the original mood-and indeed from the very mood. It is but a trick
poem and no poem at all if the best of it was thought of first and saved for the last. It
finds its own name as it goes and discovers the best waiting for it in some final phrase at
once wise and sad-the happy-sad blend of the drinking song.

No tears in the writer, no tears in the reader. No surprise for the writer, no surprise for the
reader. For me the initial delight is in the surprise of remembering something I didn't
know I knew. I am in a place, in a situation, as if I had materialized from cloud or risen
out of the ground. There is a glad recognition of the long lost and the rest follows. Step
by step the wonder of unex pected supply keeps growing. The impressions most useful to
my purpose seem always those I was unaware of and so made no note of at the time when
taken, and the conclusion is come to that like giants we are always hurling experience
ahead of us to pave the future with against the day when we may Want to strike a line of
purpose across it for somewhere. The line will have the more charm for not being
mechanically straight. We enjoy the straight crookedness of a good walking stick.
Modern instruments of precision are being used to make things crooked as if by eye and
hand in the old days.

I tell how there may be a better wildness of logic than of inconsequence. But the logic is
backward, in retrospect, after the act. It must be more felt than seen ahead like prophecy.
It must be a revelation, or a series of revelations, as much for the poet as for the reader.
For it to be that there must have been the greatest freedom of the material to move about
in it and to establish relations in it regardless of time and space, previous relation, and
everything but affinity. We prate of freedom. We call our schools free because we are not
free to stay away from them till we are sixteen years of age. I have given up my
democratic prejudices and now willingly set the lower classes free to be completely taken
care of by the upper classes. Political freedom is nothing to me. I bestow it right and left.
All I would keep for myself is the freedom of my material-the condition of body and
mind now and then to summons aptly from the vast chaos of all I have lived through.

Scholars and artists thrown together are often annoyed at the puzzle of where they differ.
Both work from knowledge; but I suspect t ey differ most importantly in the way their
knowledge is come by. Scholars get theirs with conscientious thoroughness along
projected lines of logic; poets theirs cavalierly and as it happens in and out of books.
They stick to nothing deliberately, but let what will stick to them like burrs where they
walk in the fields. No acquirement is on assignment, or even self-assignment. Knowledge
of the second kind is much more available in the wild free ways of wit and art. A
schoolboy may be defined as one who can tell you what he knows in the order in which
he learned it. The artist must value himself as he snatches a thing from some previous
order in time and space into a new order with not so much as a ligature clinging to it of
the old place where it was organic. More than once I should have lost my soul to
radicalism if it had been the originality it was mistaken for by its young converts.
Originality and initiative are what I ask for my country. For myself the originality need be
no more than the freshness of a poem run in the way I have described: from delight to
wisdom. The figure is the same as for love. Like a piece of ice on a hot stove the poem
must ride on its own melting. A poem may be worked over once it is in being, but may
not be worried into being. Its most precious quality will remain its having run itself and
carried away the poet with it. Read it a hundred times: it will forever keep its freshness as
a petal keeps its fragrance. It can never lose its sense of a meaning that once unfolded by
surprise as it went.

Summary:

To refer to a group of Frost’s poems as “early” is perhaps problematic: One is tempted to

think of the term as relative given that Frost’s first book of poetry appeared when he was
already 39. Moreover, Frost’s pattern of withholding poems from publication for long
periods of time makes dating his work difficult. Many of the poems of the first book, A
Boy’s Will, were, in fact, written long before—a few more than a decade earlier.
Likewise, Frost’s later books contain poems almost certainly written in the period
discussed in this note. The “Early Poems” considered here are a selection of well known
verses published in the eleven years (1913-1923) spanned by Frost’s first four books: A
Boy’s Will, North of Boston, Mountain Interval, and New Hampshire.

Frost famously likened the composition of free-verse poetry to playing tennis without a
net: it might be fun, but it “ain’t tennis.” You will find only tennis in the poems that
follow. And yet, even while Frost worked within form, he also worked the form itself,
shaping it by his choice of language and his use of variation. He invented forms, too,
when the poem required it. A theme in Frost’s work is the need for some, but not total,
freedom—for boundaries, too, can be liberating for the poet, and Frost perhaps knew this
better than anyone: No American poet has wrought such memorable, personally
identifiable, idiosyncratic poetry from such self-imposed, often traditional formulae.
In these “early” years, Frost was concerned with perfecting what he termed “the sound of
sense.” This was “the abstract vitality of our speech...pure sound— pure form”: a
rendering, in words, of raw sensory perception. The words, the form of the words, and the
sounds they encode are as much the subject of the poem as the subject is. Frost once
wrote in a letter that to be a poet, one must “learn to get cadences by skillfully breaking
the sounds of sense with all their irregularity of accent across the regular beat of the
metre.” Thus, we read “Mowing” and simultaneously hear the swishing and whispering
of the scythe; upon reading “Stopping by the Woods,” one clearly hears the sweep of easy
wind and downy flake; to read “Birches” is to vividly sense the breezy stir that cracks and
crazes the trees’ enamel.

Most of the lyrics treated in this note are relatively short, but Frost also pioneered the
long dramatic lyric (represented here by “Home Burial”). These works depict spirited
characters of a common, localized stripe: New England farm families, hired men, and
backwoods curious characters. The shorter poems are often, understandably, more vague
in their characterization, but their settings are no less vivid. Moreover, they integrate
form and content to stunning effect.

Frost’s prose output was slight; however, he did manage, in essays such as “The Figure a
Poem Makes,” to craft several enduring aphorisms about poetry. In regard to the figure of
a poem, or that of a line itself, he wrote: “We enjoy the straight crookedness of a good
walking stick.” A poem, he wrote, aims for “a momentary stay against confusion.” It
“begins in delight and ends in wisdom.” “Like a piece of ice on a hot stove the poem
must ride on its own melting.” He claimed that the highest goal of the poet—and it was a
goal he certainly achieved—is “to lodge a few poems where they will be hard to get rid
of.”

Themes

Youth and the Loss of Innocence

Youth appears prominently in Frost’s poetry, particularly in connection with innocence

and its loss. A Boy’s Will deals with this theme explicitly, tracing the development of a
solitary youth as he explores and questions the world around him. Frost’s later work
depicts youth as an idealized, edenic state full of possibility and opportunity. But as his
poetic tone became increasingly jaded and didactic, he imagines youth as a time of
unchecked freedom that is taken for granted and then lost. The theme of lost innocence
becomes particularly poignant for Frost after the horrors of World War I and World War
II, in which he witnessed the physical and psychic wounding of entire generations of
young people. Later poems, including “Birches” (1916), “Acquainted with the Night”
(1928), and “Desert Places” (1936), explore the realities of aging and loss, contrasting
adult experiences with the carefree pleasures of youth.

Self-Knowledge Through Nature

Nature figures prominently in Frost’s poetry, and his poems usually include a moment of
interaction or encounter between a human speaker and a natural subject or phenomenon.
These encounters culminate in profound realizations or revelations, which have
significant consequences for the speakers. Actively engaging with nature—whether
through manual labor or exploration—has a variety of results, including self-knowledge,
deeper understanding of the human condition, and increased insight into the metaphysical
world. Frost’s earlier work focuses on the act of discovery and demonstrates how being
engaged with nature leads to growth and knowledge. For instance, a day of harvesting
fruit leads to a new understanding of life’s final sleep, or death, in “After Apple-Picking”
(1915). Mid-career, however, Frost used encounters in nature to comment on the human
condition. In his later works, experiencing nature provided access to the universal, the
supernatural, and the divine, even as the poems themselves became increasingly focused
on aging and mortality.

Throughout Frost’s work, speakers learn about themselves by exploring nature, but nature
always stays indifferent to the human world. In other words, people learn from nature
because nature allows people to gain knowledge about themselves and because nature
requires people to reach for new insights, but nature itself does not provide answers. Frost
believed in the capacity of humans to achieve feats of understanding in natural settings,
but he also believed that nature was unconcerned with either human achievement or
human misery. Indeed, in Frost’s work, nature could be both generous and malicious. The
speaker of “Design” (1936), for example, wonders about the “design of darkness” (13)
that has led a spider to kill a moth over the course of a night. While humans might learn
about themselves through nature, nature and its ways remain mysterious.

Community vs. Isolation

Frost marveled at the contrast between the human capacity to connect with one another
and to experience feelings of profound isolation. In several Frost poems, solitary
individuals wander through a natural setting and encounter another individual, an object,
or an animal. These encounters stimulate moments of revelation in which the speaker
realizes her or his connection to others or, conversely, the ways that she or he feels
isolated from the community. Earlier poems feature speakers who actively choose
solitude and isolation in order to learn more about themselves, but these speakers
ultimately discover a firm connection to the world around them, as in “The Tufts of
Flowers” (1915) and “Mending Wall” (1915). Longer dramatic poems explore how
people isolate themselves even within social contexts. Later poems return the focus to
solitude, exploring how encounters and community only heighten loneliness and
isolation. This deeply pessimistic, almost misanthropic perspective sneaks into the most
cheerful of late Frost poems, including “Acquainted with the Night” and “Desert Places.”

Motifs

Manual Labor

Labor functions as a tool for self-analysis and discovery in Frost’s poetry. Work allows
his speakers to understand themselves and the world around them. Traditionally, pastoral
and romantic poets emphasized a passive relationship with nature, wherein people would
achieve understanding and knowledge by observing and meditating, not by directly
interacting with the natural world. In contrast, Frost’s speakers work, labor, and act—
mending fences, as in “Mending Wall”; harvesting fruit, as in “After Apple-Picking”; or
cutting hay, as in “Mowing” (1915). Even children work, although the hard labor of the
little boy in “Out, Out—” (1920) leads to his death. The boy’s death implies that while
work was necessary for adults, children should be exempted from difficult labor until
they have attained the required maturity with which to handle both the physical and the
mental stress that goes along with rural life. Frost implies that a connection with the earth
and with one’s self can only be achieved by actively communing with the natural world
through work.

New England

Long considered the quintessential regional poet, Frost uses New England as a recurring
setting throughout his work. Although he spent his early life in California, Frost moved to
the East Coast in his early teens and spent the majority of his adult life in Massachusetts
and New Hampshire. The region’s landscape, history, culture, and attitudes fill his poetry,
and he emphasizes local color and natural elements of the forests, orchards, fields, and
small towns. His speakers wander through dense woods and snowstorms, pick apples,
and climb mountains. North of Boston, the title of Frost’s second collection of poetry,
firmly established him as the chronicler of small-town, rural life in New England. Frost
found inspiration in his day-to-day experiences, basing “Mending Wall,” for instance, on
a fence near his farm in Derry, New Hampshire, and “The Oven Bird” (1920) on birds
indigenous to the nearby woods.

The Sound of Sense

Frost coined the phrase the sound of sense to emphasize the poetic diction, or word
choice, used throughout his work. According to letters he wrote in 1913 and 1914, the
sound of sense should be positive, as well as proactive, and should resemble everyday
speech. To achieve the sound of sense, Frost chose words for tone and sound, in addition
to considering each word’s meaning. Many poems replicate content through rhyme,
meter, and alliteration. For instance, “Mowing” captures the back-and-forth sound of a
scythe swinging, while “Out, Out—” imitates the jerky, noisy roar of a buzz saw.
Believing that poetry should be recited, rather than read, Frost not only paid attention to
the sound of his poems but also went on speaking tours throughout the United States,
where he would read, comment, and discuss his work. Storytelling has a long history in
the United States, particularly in New England, and Frost wanted to tap into this history
to emphasize poetry as an oral art.

Symbols

Trees
Trees delineate borders in Frost’s poetry. They not only mark boundaries on earth, such as
that between a pasture and a forest, but also boundaries between earth and heaven. In
some poems, such as “After Apple-Picking” and “Birches,” trees are the link between
earth, or humanity, and the sky, or the divine. Trees function as boundary spaces, where
moments of connection or revelation become possible. Humans can observe and think
critically about humanity and the divine under the shade of these trees or standing nearby,
inside the trees’ boundary space. Forests and edges of forests function similarly as
boundary spaces, as in “Into My Own” (1915) or “Desert Places.” Finally, trees acts as
boundaries or borders between different areas or types of experiences. When Frost’s
speakers and subjects are near the edge of a forest, wandering in a forest, or climbing a
tree, they exist in liminal spaces, halfway between the earth and the sky, which allow the
speakers to engage with nature and experience moments of revelation.

Birds and Birdsong

In Frost’s poetry, birds represent nature, and their songs represent nature’s attitudes
toward humanity. Birds provide a voice for the natural world to communicate with
humans. But their songs communicate only nature’s indifference toward the human
world, as in “The Need of Being Versed in Country Things” (1923) and “Never Again
Would Birds’ Song Be the Same” (1942). Their beautiful melodies belie an absence of
feeling for humanity and our situations. Nevertheless, as a part of nature, birds have a
right to their song, even if it annoys or distresses human listeners. In “A Minor Bird”
(1928), the speaker eventually realizes that all songs must continue to exist, whether
those songs are found in nature, as with birds, or in culture, as with poems. Frost also
uses birds and birdsong to symbolize poetry, and birds become a medium through which
to comment on the efficacy of poetry as a tool of emotional expression, as in “The Oven
Bird” (1920).

Solitary Travelers

Solitary travelers appear frequently in Frost’s poems, and their attitudes toward their
journeys and their surroundings highlight poetic and historical themes, including the
figure of the wanderer and the changing social landscape of New England in the
twentieth century. As in romanticism, a literary movement active in England from
roughly 1750 to 1830, Frost’s poetry demonstrates great respect for the social outcast, or
wanderer, who exists on the fringes of a community. Like the romanticized notion of the
solitary traveler, the poet was also separated from the community, which allowed him to
view social interactions, as well as the natural world, with a sense of wonder, fear, and
admiration. Able to engage with his surroundings using fresh eyes, the solitary traveler
simultaneously exists as a part of the landscape and as an observer of the landscape.
Found in “Stopping By Woods on a Snowy Evening” (1923), “Into My Own,”
“Acquainted with the Night,” and “The Road Not Taken” (1920), among other poems, the
solitary traveler demonstrates the historical and regional context of Frost’s poetry. In the
early twentieth century, the development of transportation and industry created the social
type of the wandering “tramp,” who lived a transient lifestyle, looking for work in a
rapidly developing industrial society. Like Frost’s speakers and subjects, these people
lived on the outskirts of the community, largely away from the warmth and complexity of
human interaction.

Virginia Woolf: The death of moth

A detailed Summary of The death of the Moth

"The Death of the Moth," written by Virginia Woolf, explains the brief life of a moth
corresponding with the true nature of life and death. In this essay, Woolf puts the moth in
a role that represents life. Woolf makes comparisons of the life outside to the life of the
moth. The theme is the mystery of death and the correspondence of the life of the moth
with the true nature of life. The images created by Woolf are presented that appeal to the
eye. For instance, the moth's body during the death is appealing to the eye. The image
makes the reader more interested. The essence of true life is energy. As Woolf describes,
"I could fancy that a thread of vital light became visible. He was little or nothing but life"
(Woolf 427). The thread of vital light represents the energy.

Woolf employs several stylistic devices that make the essay more interesting to the
reader. The changing in tone, lengthy sentence structure, and personification are three
devices that are significant in the essay.

When the moth is dying Woolf uses lengthier sentences to bring out the importance of the
situation:

Throughout the essay the tone changes by Woolfs' attitude towards the moth. The actual
change of tone is pity. At first her focus is not totally on the moth and she is not exactly
impressed with the moth as well. Then, as the essay continues, Woolf begins to be more
interested and starts to feel a sense of pity or sympathy for the moth. As described here,
"Watching him, it seemed as if a fibre, very thin and pure, of the enormous energy of the
world had been thrust into his frail and diminutive body" (426-427). This sentence shows
Woolfs' attitude starting to change towards the moth. In the beginning of the essay, Woolf
does not show the interest like she does towards the end of the essay. When the moth
starts to go through death the tone changes dramatically and Woolf is a state of wonder
and awe for the moth.

The lengthier sentences also help to explain the wonder and awe that Woolf expresses
towards the moth. The wonder and awe that she expressed was due to the power and
inevitability

E.B White: Once More to the Lake

E.B White, the famous author of Stuart little and Charlottes Web, also wrote the person
essay “Once More to the Lake” in which he explores the relationship between father and
son. The essay starts off with a father talking about his experiences as a child camping
with his father in 1904 on a lake in Maine. During this he gets the great feelings that he
once had as a child camping and decides to relive them again. He is now a father who has
a child himself which he decides to bring along with because his son has have never had
any fresh water up his nose and thought this would be a great experience for the both of
them. On his way to Maine he wonders how much different the “holy spot” may be and if
he still will love this place like he used to. After settling into a camp near a farmhouse
and getting that summer feeling, he thought things couldn’t be much different. He
defiantly knew it the next morning lying in bed, smelling the bedroom, and hearing his
young boy quietly sneaking out to go off along the shore in a boat. Lying in his bed he
starts to imagine his son has him and that he was his own father. He would be in the
middle of simp.

(The next morning he and son went fishing. He kept remembering his camping
experiences as child and it wasn't much different now. When the kids went swimming his
son had tagged along and he watched him, as his hard little body, skinny and bare pulled
up into the water and he himself felt the chill of death. The arrival of the dragon fly
convinced the father even more that everything was as it had always been. His son loved
the rented outboard and he wanted to achieve single-handed mastery over it. He soon
came to realize that he is a father now and that he is much older and it is time to let go of
those great memories and make great memories with his son, like his father had done
once done with him. He felt the same damp moss covering the worms in the bait can, and
saw the dragonfly on the tip of the rods as it hovered over the water. During this,
everywhere he would go he had trouble making out which he was, the one walking on his
side, or the one walking in his pants. He would remember things such as the red squirrel
that would be tapping on the roof in the mornings and the store that he used to go to after
breakfast which was still the exact same. He is confused and feeling dizzy and doesn't
know which rod he was at the end of. Later that night they went back up to the farmhouse
for dinner. A week had passed by and the trip had been good so far. He later goes into
explaining that now in 1941 they have different type of boats then they did in 1904. At
the farmhouse the waitresses were the same country girls, the only difference was that
they had washed their hair and they had been to the movies and seen the pretty girls with
the clean hair.)

George Orwall: Shooting an Elephant

Shooting an Elephant | Introduction

George Orwell’s ‘‘Shooting an Elephant’’ first appeared in 1936. The British public
already knew Orwell as the socially conscious author of Down and Out in London and
Paris (1933), a nonfiction study of poverty, homelessness, unemployment, and
subsistence living on poorly-paying menial jobs, and Burmese Days (1934), a novel of
British colonialism. ‘‘Shooting an Elephant’’ functions as an addendum to Burmese Days.
The story and novel share the same setting, and draw on Orwell’s experience as a colonial
official in India and Burma, two regions of the British Empire, in the middle of the
century between the two world wars. The story (which some critics consider an essay)
concerns a colonial officer’s obligation to shoot a rogue elephant. The narrator does not
want to shoot the elephant, but feels compelled to by a crowd of indigenous residents,
before whom he does not wish to appear indecisive or cowardly. The situation and events
that Orwell describes underscores the hostility between the administrators of the British
Empire and their ‘‘native’’ subjects. Both sides feel hatred, distrust, and resentment. The
situation is universally degrading. The shooting itself involves enormous pathos
conveyed economically in a few words.

‘‘Shooting an Elephant’’ is a central text in modern British literature and has generated
perhaps more criticism than any other comparable short piece. In the politicized
atmosphere of contemporary criticism, commentators are especially drawn into debate
about whether Orwell apologizes for or condemns imperialism. Left-wing critics see
insuf- ficient condemnation; conservative critics point out that it is the narrator, an agent
of empire, who explicitly denounces the British presence as pervasively corrupting to
both sides. The story is one of the most widely anthologized and studied items of the
modern English-language canon.

Shooting an Elephant Summary

‘‘Shooting an Elephant’’ begins with a meditative prelude to the action in which the
narrator, who may be presumed to be Orwell, comments on being a colonial policeman in
British Burma in the middle of the twentieth century. ‘‘I was hated by large numbers of
people,’’ he says, and ‘‘anti-European feeling was very bitter.’’ A European woman
crossing the market would likely be spat upon and a subdivisional police officer made an
even more inviting target. Once, at a soccer match, a Burmese player deliberately fouled
the narrator while the Burmese umpire conveniently looked the other direction and the
largely Burmese crowd ‘‘yelled with hideous laughter.’’ The narrator understands such
hatred and even thinks it justified, but he also confesses that his ‘‘greatest joy’’ at the time
would have been to bayonet one of his tormenters.

The action of ‘‘Shooting an Elephant’’ begins when the narrator receives a telephone
report of an elephant ‘‘ravaging the bazaar.’’ He takes his inadequate hunting rifle and
rides on horseback to the area where the animal allegedly lurks. The narrator remarks on
the squalor and poverty of the neighborhood, with its palm-leaf thatch on the huts and
unplanned scattering of houses over a hillside. The narrator asks.. ‘‘Shooting an
Elephant’’ begins with a meditative prelude to the action in which the narrator, who may
be presumed to be Orwell, comments on being a colonial policeman in British Burma in
the middle of the twentieth century. ‘‘I was hated by large numbers of people,’’ he says,
and ‘‘anti-European feeling was very bitter.’’ A European woman crossing the market
would likely be spat upon and a subdivisional police officer made an even more inviting
target. Once, at a soccer match, a Burmese player deliberately fouled the narrator while
the Burmese umpire conveniently..
James Baldwin: Autobiographical Notes

James Baldwin (Magill Book Reviews)

Though James Baldwin is a distinguished novelist and playwright, it can be argued that
his most consistently brilliant work is in his essays, with their witty, impassioned, elegant
observations on the life and art of his time. Many are autobiographical in whole or part;
“One writes out of one thing only—one’s own experience. Everything depends on how
relentlessly one forces from this experience the last drop, sweet or bitter, it can possibly
give.” Perhaps the most famous of Baldwin’s autobiographical essays is NOTES OF A
NATIVE SON (1955), in which he tries to come to terms with his father, the model for
Gabriel in GO, TELL IT ON THE MOUNTAIN (1953), who was embittered by a
heritage of racial oppression and took out his frustrations in indescribable cruelty to his
family.

Extremely intelligent, James Baldwin continually battled the absurdity of racism that
made life miserable for his people purely because of their color, but he was determined
not to let hatred embitter his life as it had his father’s. Baldwin found some solace in the
blues, in laughter, and in exiling himself to France. The vital factor about Baldwin’s
perceptions is that he was triply an outsider, as an African American, a homosexual, and
an expatriate. When asked whether he felt handicapped by being black and gay, he
answered, “No, man, I thought I hit the jackpot.” Baldwin returned to the United States to
become a leader in the civil rights movement, and his THE FIRE NEXT TIME (1963) is
a powerful argument against racism and for full equality for blacks. In NOBODY
KNOWS MY NAME: MORE NOTES OF A NATIVE SON (1961), he investigates
questions of identity and democracy, “what it means to be an American.” THE DEVIL
FINDS WORK (1976) analyzes movies that he saw as a boy and later ones of interest for
their treatment of race and politics; many other essays deal with literature—the work of
Shakespeare, Harriet Beecher Stowe, Langston Hughes, Richard Wright, William
Faulkner, Norman Mailer, and others. Baldwin followed Henry James’ advice to be the
sort of person upon whom nothing is lost, and the abundance of his interests is reflected
in the keen observations, wit, and vitality of his essays.

EXTRA READING>>>

Notes of a Native Son | Introduction

James Baldwin’s collection of essays, Notes of a Native Son, with the individual essays
having been originally written during the 1940s and 1950s, gives readers a thoughtful
commentary on the social environment in the United States in the era of the Civil Rights
Movement. Through the eyes and mind of one of America’s most effective essayists, the
conditions of being an African American living in a society that is grappling with the
consequences of racial discrimination are witnessed firsthand. The subjects of his essays
vary as Baldwin ponders his own reactions to the significance of the so-called protest
novel to the circumstances that led many African-American writers of his time to become
expatriates.

According to Baldwin’s biographer, David Leeming, the idea for Baldwin’s collection
came from an old school friend, Sol Stein, who had become an editor at Beacon Press.
Baldwin’s first response to the suggestion of publishing his essays, which were largely
autobiographical, was that he was ‘‘too young’’ to publish his ‘‘memoirs.’’ Baldwin had,
after all, only published one other book prior to Notes, and on top of this he was only
thirty years old, which meant that he was in his twenties when he wrote the essays.
Despite his lack of a long professional career, however, Baldwin would be surprised at
the reaction he would receive upon publication. The collection significantly marked him
as a writer that it became his signature work. It was through Notes that he would gain the
massive audience he would enjoy throughout most of his writing career. Notes
established Baldwin as one of the leading interpreters of the dramatic social changes that
would soon erupt in the United States in the critical years ahead.

Leeming refers to the voice that Baldwin created in his essays as one that ‘‘seduces the
reader.’’ Baldwin invites the reader inside his mind, Leeming contends, as he observes the
problems that exist in the society, problems that were borne of racial discrimination.
However, in his observations, Baldwin does not make any of his readers feel guilty about
the social conditions. Unlike some of his contemporary authors, Baldwin believed that he
did not write through anger. In Leeming’s evaluation of Baldwin’s essays, he contends,
‘‘Baldwin’s method is to reach consciences by way of minds.’’

Notes of a Native Son Summary

Autobiographical Notes
Baldwin begins his Notes of a Native Son with a brief description of his childhood and
the beginning of his professional career as a writer. He also introduces some of the
themes that will be expanded upon in the essays contained in this volume. Some of these
themes include the role of the African- American writer, self-identity of African
Americans, and an observation and analysis of American society.

Everybody’s Protest Novel

In this first essay, Baldwin launches into literary criticism, specifically focusing on
Harriet Beecher Stowe’s Uncle Tom’s Cabin and Richard Wright’s Native Son. Baldwin
finds both works too political and, to his mind, thinly disguised political propaganda as a
novel is not a serious literary activity. He also believes that, as literary works, both
Stowe’s and Wright’s work lack merit. They are ‘‘both badly written and wildly
improbable.’’ As analyses of social problems, they lack strength. ‘‘Whatever unsettling
questions are raised are evanescent . . . remote, for this has nothing to do with us.’’

Baldwin likens the protest novel to zealous missionaries who travel to Africa ‘‘to cover
the nakedness of the natives’’ in an attempt to save them. He concludes his assessment of
these two works by binding them together, writing that they resemble one another, with
Bigger, the protagonist in Wright’s novel, becoming the descendant of Stowe’s Uncle
Tom. ‘‘It seems that the contemporary Negro novelist [Wright] and the dead New
England woman [Stowe] are locked together in a deadly, timeless battle; the one uttering
merciless exhortations, the other shouting curses.’’

Many Thousands Gone

Baldwin begins this essay with the statement about the difficulty the ‘‘Negro in America’’
has in telling his/her story. ‘‘It is not a very pretty story,’’ Baldwin writes and has best
been told through music. The African-American story is covered in shadow and darkness.
The African American is not known personally but rather through ‘‘statistics, slums,
rapes, injustices, remote violence.’’ The presence of African Americans in the
predominantly white American society Baldwin likens to a ‘‘disease—cancer, perhaps, or
tuberculosis—which must be checked, even though it cannot be cured.’’

The face of the African American has changed with time, Baldwin continues, but it has
not changed enough. ‘‘The general desire seems to be to make it blank if one cannot
make it white.’’ Baldwin then mentions the use of the stereotypical images of Aunt
Jemima, a heavyset black woman, usually shown in the kitchen, cooking for white
people. Her counterpart is Uncle Tom. There was, Baldwin writes, ‘‘no one stronger or
more pious or more loyal or more wise’’ than Aunt Jemima, and Uncle Tom was
‘‘trustworthy and sexless.’’ However, Baldwin states that these descriptions of Aunt
Jemima and Uncle Tom are only the surface realities of these two people. Underneath,
Aunt Jemima is faithless, vicious, and immoral; Uncle Tom is ‘‘violent, crafty, and sullen,
a menace to any white woman who passed by.’’ It is their surface identity that most white
people want to believe, Baldwin states. Their pleasant demeanor is an artificial creation,
something that white people wanted to believe in because white people wanted peace.

In the second half of this essay, Baldwin continues his criticism of Richard Wright’s
Native Son. He refers to it as ‘‘the most powerful and celebrated statement . . . of what it
means to be a Negro in America.’’ However, he also states that Wright’s novel does not
work as Wright had intended it to.

Carmen Jones: The Dark Is Light Enough

In 1955, Otto Preminger produced the movie Carmen Jones, a modernization of George
Bizet’s opera Carmen. Preminger put together an all-black cast for the film, and in this
essay, Baldwin analyzes that production.

Baldwin was not impressed with the film. One of the first things he complains about is
the dialogue, which he says sounds ‘‘ludicrously false and affected, like ante-bellum
Negroes imitating their masters.’’ Baldwin then goes on to suggest that everything about
this movie is improbable, a ‘‘total divorce from anything suggestive of the realities of
Negro life.’’

Baldwin also sees a color consciousness in the casting that he does not fail to point out.
For instance, there is Dorothy Dandridge, ‘‘aAutobiographical Notes
Baldwin begins his Notes of a Native Son with a brief description of his childhood and
the beginning of his professional career as a writer. He also introduces some of the
themes that will be expanded upon in the essays contained in this volume. Some of these
themes include the role of the African- American writer, self-identity of African
Americans, and an observation and analysis of American society.

Everybody’s Protest Novel

In this first essay, Baldwin launches into literary criticism, specifically focusing on
Harriet...

Russel Baker: His tireless marriage mode

“Marriage á la Mode’’

Point of View and Narration

“Marriage á la Mode’’ is told primarily from William’s point of view, but the story does
shift to Isabel’s point of view to make its final statement. The story opens with William’s
thoughts as he boards the train in London. He is concerned with buying a gift for his
children and wonders about his upcoming meeting with Isabel. Such an opening clearly
demonstrates that family is most important to William. This long scene can be compared
to his meeting with Isabel, whose conversation revolves more around her friends. In a
sense, Isabel even negates the children by refusing to give them the fruit William
purchased for them, instead keeping it to share with her friends. The brief weekend
continues to be funneled through William’s point of view, which is effective because it
allows Mansfield to depict William as he truly is amongst Isabel’s circle: alone and on the
outside.

The end of the story, however, switches to Isabel’s point of view. There is no artistic way
to avoid this shift, for in order to effect the proper ending, readers need to see Isabel’s
(and her friends’) reaction to William’s letter and her subsequent actions. Isabel’s alliance
with her friends against William marks the story’s culmination. Stylistically, however,
Isabel’s and William’s points of view reflect Mansfield’s writing style and are fairly
indistinguishable. Both sections, as well, never delve too deeply into the thoughts of the
characters. Instead, Mansfield’s narration presents William’s and Isabel’s major concerns
and reactions to situations and then depicts both of them embarking on a set course of
action.

Satire

“Marriage á la Mode’’ satirizes — or uses humor, wit, or ridicule to criticize — the

pretentious, phony bohemian art society in which Isabel has chosen to involve herself.
While Mansfield’s story makes no grand pronouncements on this shallow segment of
society, her disdain for Isabel and her immature friends is clear. The group speaks in
childish exclamations and conducts pointless conversations; once the verb “childishly” is
used to describe Bobby’s words. They indulge in no meaningful activities — it is alluded
that Bill is a painter, but he refuses to paint the friends at the dinner table. They are self-
obsessed and full of self-importance. Ironically, they are determined to keep William out
of their inner circle, a circle of which he has no interest in being a part.

Physically and emotionally, Mansfield makes them appear foolish and ridiculous. Moira
is first introduced wearing “a bonnet like a huge strawberry” and jumping up and down,
giving a reader the image of a giant, jumping strawberry, not a woman at all. As a group,
the friends reject traditional adult behavior. None of them apparently have anything better
to do on a Monday than laze around Isabel’s house. All of them appear content to sponge
off of Isabel (and thus William). Bobby is presented as the most childlike of them all with
even his very moods dependent on others. When the candy shopman comes after him as
Bobby neglected to pay for his purchases, Bobby looks “frightened,” but a moment later,
after Isabel has taken care of the bill, he “was radiant again.”

Symbolism and Imagery

Mansfield’s primary symbols and images used in “Marriage á la Mode” revolve around
food. William brings home a melon and a pineapple for the children; Moira’s hat looks
like a strawberry; the day’s purchases include fish and candy; the friends are depicted
around the dinner table, eating voraciously. Overall, these images, such as Bill “stuffing
his mouth with bread,” imply both the selfishness of Isabel and her friends — for
instance, dining on fruit at the expense of the children — as well as their spiritual
emptiness. As Isabel says, “We’re all starving. William’s starving, too.” Indeed, they are
all hungry for something that cannot be fixed by eating a large meal. Although they do
not know it, Isabel and her friends lack a purpose or greater meaning in their lives.
William, on the other hand, is hungry for the simple life he and Isabel once shared.
Posted by Saroj Tamang at 4:42 PM