Interpretation Post

In Raymond Carver’s “What We Talk about When We Talk about Love,” Carver exemplifies the nature of love and the inadequacy of language when describing love. In the story, the core of the plot takes place over a course of an evening. The characters, Nick and Laura, and Mel and Terri McGinnis, sit around the kitchen table at the McGinnis’ apartment, drinking gin and talking, before they all go out to dinner together. The only movement around the table during the involved the characters getting up to get more gin.” Mel is divorced, and Terri is his second wife. Terri is also divorced and Mel is her second husband. Mel and Terri have been married for four years, together for five. Nick and Laura are married, and have been together only eighteen months. Collectively, all of these characters, their stories, their experiences with “love” help portray that love is truly more than words.

Summary
“As the story opens, the narrator explains that “The gin and tonic water kept going around, and we somehow got on the subject of love.” Mel, who had once gone to seminary school, claims that “real love was nothing less than spiritual love.” They then begin to discuss Terri’s former husband, Ed, who was physically abusive to her, had threatened Mel on several occasions, and eventually shot himself in the head, dying three days later. Mel argues that that is not real love, while Terri insists that Ed did love her. While Nick and Laura’s relationship seems to be completely harmonious, and their interactions with each other kind and affectionate, Mel and Terri’s interactions take on a tone of controlled menace, barely covering a deep-seated resentment between the two of them.

The conversation continues on the subject of love while Mel becomes increasingly drunk. He gives an example of what he considered to be “real love.” He tells them about an elderly couple who had gotten into a terrible car accident when they were hit by a teenage boy. Both of them nearly died, but they continued to survive, although both were covered from head to toe in bandages. Mel explains that, one day, the old man explained to him in tears that he was upset that, although he and his wife’s beds were next to each other in the hospital room, he could not turn his head to see her face, because of his bandages. Mel is taken with the idea that this man loved his wife so much it was nearly killing him not to be able to look at her: “I mean, it was killing the old fart just because he couldn’t look at the ... woman.”

Mel, now clearly drunk, decides that he’d like to call and talk to his kids, who live with his ex-wife, Marjorie. He explains that Marjorie is allergic to bee stings, and part of him would like to appear at her front door and release a swarm of bees into her house. But he is baffled that he feels such hatred for her now, when he knows that he did once truly love her. Mel then decides against calling his children, and all four finish off the last of the gin. Mel erratically turns his glass of gin upside, allowing it to spill all over the table. “Gin’s gone,” he says. “Now what?” Terri responds. At this point the narrator ends the story with a description of the four friends, sitting in silence around the table: “I could hear my heart beating. I could hear everyone’s heart. I could hear the human noise we sat there making, no one of us moving, not even when the room went dark.” “

Interpretation
One of the most important aspects of this story is the elusiveness of love. Despite the characters efforts to come up with a tangible definition of love, the nature of love is left undefined. One of the best examples of this is when Mel tells his friends about a couple who almost died in a car crash, but the conclusion only leaves his friends confused. And the conversation then turns into a discussion about how strange it is that they have all loved more than one person. Mel basically babbles on and on. He does the majority of the talking in this story, and I believe this symbolizes his own confusion on loves. He is trying so hard to prove that he knows love that his ramblings only convey his loss of words to truly describe what it is.

Likewise, Terri is so sure in her definition of love that she gets lost in her beliefs. She even seems the most certain out of all of her friends in the definition of love. She claims that her ex-boyfriend loved her through acts of violence. This seems unrealistic to us, but Terri made herself believe that he truly loved her. However, when Mel challenged her beliefs the only thing she would fall back on was her intuition. She could not provide any certainty in her explanation on love.
Laura and Nick are a little bit different. They also believe they understand the nature of love but they say it in fewer words than Terri and Mel. They merely demonstrate their love through physical gestures in hopes that this will clarify where words cannot.

All four characters are continuously drinking throughout this exploration for a definite definition of love. However, I believe that the alcohol represents more than just that. The more they drink the more they become intoxicated. This mirrors their varying descriptions of love. As the story unfolds, and larger amounts of gin are consumed, the more confusion roams in the story until they are all left silent by the end of the story....but only first by finishing off the gin.

Carver depicts through varying discussions and symbols that words are not enough when addressing love.

Enormous Wings

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The Boys Next Door

The Boys Next Door is a really touching story about adults with mental disorders. When I first began the book, I did not realize it was going to be about adults with mental disorders. But as the play went on, I began to pick up on the characters identities. However, I felt like it was a bit overdone: the direction of the play and the interaction of the characters. It is a humorous play without poking fun at the characters life situations. But I feel like I could not complete feel the impact of their lives…the character’s lives.

I really enjoyed visiting the alliance for independence group home. The tour helped reveal the hearts of the residences and of the employers. People with mental disorders are no different then us. We all have different weaknesses in our lives. I feel, in regards to the mentally handicap, we often say we should treat them like children and stuff around those lines. But then I feel like we plant that mentality in our minds that we try so hard not to treat people with mental disorders differently that we unintentionally still do. Does that even make sense?

I feel like in order to sincerely treat the mentally disabled at a neutral level, we must evaluate the motives of our heart. Are we trying to them equally because we sincerely have a desire to care or because we know we should have a desire to care?

I did not mean to go off on some random rant about this. It was just what was on my heart. But questioning our motives are important I feel like. Our motives heavily reflect the way we live our lives. And often, people do not see if you are sincere or not…so there is no accountability. Let us not live lives were we do the right thing or treat people the right way because we know we should. Let us strive for hearts with pure motives that it naturally flows from us to treat people equally.

Art Mueseum

I went to the Polk Museum of Art for this assignment, and I stayed there for at least 40 minutes.

Last Friday, instead of attending class we took another field trip. I went with Lauren, Juliet and Brendan to the Polk Museum of Art. I absolutely love going to art museums, and I was excited to see what art was displayed here.

The first room we went to showcased a variety of Asian tapestries and art. Kimonos hung from the ceilings and it made me think about to my childhood because I was born and partially raised in Japan. But then I began to wonder how all of this had to do with art. There many rooms that was centered around cultural pottery and such. But art is more than painting, drawings and writings I suppose. Art is an expression of what lays in the artist’s heart. And for many of these artists, through extravagant paints and delicate pottery, they were trying to portray something that meant a lot to them: their culture and diversity. I could definitely appreciate it.

The room I really enjoyed exploring was one that showcased art done by high school students. There paintings, photographs, and even graphic designs that were done by very creative high school students. Lauren, Juliet, Brendan and I stayed in this room for awhile and even revisited it on our way out of the museum. We questioned the artists intentions for their work, though about how they went about making the art, and tried to figure out what things the artists was even trying to hide from us in their works.

One room I enjoyed the most was a room that hide photographs of families around the world and their homes. What was interesting about these paintings was that all their material possessions were setup outside their homes in their yards and streets. It was amazing seeing the great contrast of living styles across the world. And I believe that was the main motive the photographs had for these pictures: it was too enlighten the viewers that there is a world out there bigger than ourselves. It is suppose to inspire us to have an open mind. And ultimately, we are viewers, should look at art all in the same way.

Post 20

The search for an authentic and genuine relationship with God is generally a goal that Christians strive to obtain. However, it is easy to dwell on this goal, say the right words and do the right things and make yourself believe you are living the genuine life God desired for us. But when it comes down to the hard times, the times where we must live in the “darkness;” where no Christian clichés or comforting prayers can fill the void darkness has stolen, would we truly believe that we had an authentic relationship with God?

Professor Corrigan’s article “Darkness, Questions, Poetry, and Spiritual Hope” addressed some interesting points. We as Christians must have an “intimate account of suffering” in order to have true hope with Christ. I feel like we are so accustomed to finding the right words or doing the right things for others or even for ourselves when suffering strikes our lives. But the unique life we have cannot be treated with a blanket. With the different tribulations that come in our lives, it is not always about finding the right things to cover up all the hurt and suffering. We must learn that it is okay to question. It is okay to be uncertain about what you believe, because it is through that uncertainty that our true faith stands.

We do not necessarily need to suffer for Christ. But that does not mean suffering does not happen in our lives. How we endure suffering shows how faithful we are to God’s promises. We face and endure darkness for a reason: “"Unless we face the darkness, we have nothing to offer those who are hurting and we have no resources for ourselves when we get our own turn at pain--except cheap religious clichés." We grow through the hard times. And our sincere nature will show through those time.

Post 19

I went to Lake Bonny Park for this assignment, and I stayed there for at least 40 minutes.

Like stated in my previous post, I believe that there is something truly divine about nature…especially when reflecting on the Lord. Nature helps bring us down to Earth, clears our minds and puts things in perspective.

On Monday, I went to Lake Bonny Park with Lauren, Juliet and Brendan. We found the dock featured in a picture on the blog. We took time to look at the water and all the creatures around it. I remember seeing these lizards everywhere on the dock. It is just crazy to think about how many things exist outside of ourselves. And it is also crazy to think about our earth and God’s creation and how creative he is in making it.

One of my favorite parts of the trip was when the four of us took time to relax and reflect on the dock. We laid with the comfort of the sun on our faces and the soft breeze to cool us down. In the distance I could hear laughter. I could hear the wind. I could hear the brushing of the leaves. And it is weird how those simple things can affect one’s perspective and appreciation of nature.

Post 19

I thought that Mary Oliver’s poems from Thirst, were spiritually deep because it not only talked about the divine state of nature, but the importance of practicing solitude and silence. My favorite poem of the three we read is certainly “Six Recognitions of Love.” This is possibly because I feel like it focuses most on the importance of silence and obedience to God through it.

One of my favorite lines from the poem was “Then I enter the place of not-thinking, not remembering, not-wanting.” I believe that silence disciplines us to be patient and sensitive to God’s voice. But I also believe that silence helps us to simple just enjoy God and his creation. Silence provides an outlet for those words that ca not be spoken.

However, today’s culture has made it difficult to fully appreciate or even stand silence. We walk into a room, and for most, the immediate thing to do is to turn on the TV, iPod, stereo, computer etc. We have made it okay to ignore silence, which in turned has made it okay to ignore God’s sound. I am not trying to say that silence is the only place where one can soak in God’s presence. But I believe that silence is a divine gift from God that Mary Oliver highlights in her poems.

If we turn off all the noise that crams our minds and makes us feel too restless to truly think, we become numb to His spirit. I believe we understand ourselves and our place with Christ when solitude becomes a daily ritual in our lives. Silence is a discipline that demonstrates our obedience to God and I believe silence is crucial component when truly appreciating nature and it’s Creator.

“And we enter the dialogue of our lives that is beyond all understanding or conclusion. It is mystery. It is love of God. It is obedience.”

Post 18

Pass.

Post 17

When developing a short story, I have realized it is not necessarily the details of the situation or the scenery but rather how the character can be built up by not necessarily revealing his identity. After writing my short story, I realized it is important to leave room for the reader to imagine the character. If we are writing a short story such as “He had brown hair and green eyes. He dressed fairly well. He had anger problems that he had to see a doctor for,” it gives away the story and loses interest of the reader. However, I have also realized that details from the scenery and situation and such can contribute to the character development in some ways too. It leaves room for the reader to explore how they contribute to the development of the character.

In our small groups, we discussed each others short stories. They were all very different but all the same in some ways. We were all trying to develop our characters and some way. And all though are stories were not similar in plot they were similar in that we described our character without giving away their true identities. It is obvious that characters are somewhat limited to what we encounter on a daily basis: how we engage with others, individuals that we passionate about and have relationships with. However, that makes character development that much better.

In one of my previous posts I highlighted that we often engage with characters the same way we engage with people. This idea kept coming back to my head when trying to develop my short story. And even though I am not completely sure I accomplished this, I believe it becomes easier to write a character based story when you focus on this concept. Ask yourself “is this how I could interact with my character?” “If I was reading this story, would I be convinced that this would happen to me?”

Short Story

Who is he?

He glances at himself in the window --- long enough so that he can evaluate himself but short enough so that any bystanders or residents on the other side of the window cannot tell that he is starring at himself. He sees all the fast cars across the road, and equally feels as if he is moving just as fast.
“Who would have thought I would end up here…like this…after all these years?” he asks his friend.
His friend responds “everyone.”

Middle school was odd. But oddly felt as if it was a shelter being the small private school it was. Church was even smaller. The cliques formed in them the smallest. Yet, that was where he was --- sheltered: the perfect school, perfect church, perfect friends. Yet, something violent raged in his heart and demanded to be unleashed.

Maybe he unleashed whatever was stirring in his heart the day he broke Jacob Roding’s nose. His eyes were filled with fire but his face seemed so pure. People looked at him differently that day. He was no longer the short boy with perfectly cut hair and pressed khaki pants. He was the boy who punched Jared in the face. But it is hard to tell if he was feared that day. All that was recalled that afternoon was how he never unclenched his fists, even to raise his hand in class, and that his eyes never unlocked from the window that viewed that busiest highway in town.

He loosened his grip the day he realized he was in love with Chrissy Weaver. He grew his hair out because he knew she liked shaggy hair. He hung out with the same group of friends from church as she did, even though when he did he found himself clenching his fist again.

He loved playing with her hair; his fingers tingled when each strand ran through his fingers. And on the day where he said the right words to her, and her hair was exceptionally smooth, Chrissy and him decided that they should be together and all was perfect.

He had on that polo that had a spot of Jacob’s blood on the sleeve from the day he could only find words from his fist rather than his mouth. Jared’s face came to his mind when that fire came to his eyes again because Chrissy told him to stop being so “fucking rude.” He hit her so hard in the face that day that it got across every hurtful word he wanted to say to her. Well, at least that is what he wanted to do. He barely brought his hand out of the pocket of his wrinkled jeans that he was holding on so hard to. And he tried to convince himself he did not love her anymore, as she stood there looking deep into his eyes with so much pain. If you looked hard enough into his eyes, past all the fiery anger, the same pain could be found.

No one ever found that pain. Honestly, no one took the time to search for it. Which made him feel that he wished Chrissy would have just drove that car a little faster the day they got into that car accident together. She was dead. At least to him she was dead the day they both walked away from that accident. And to everyone else, his friends, Chrissy, Jacob, he was dead to them. His hands were too numb to clench that day. But his eyes still had enough strength to focus on the cars that flew beside him.

People did not hear much from him after that day. Except when Chrissy heard about how red his eyes had become. Chrissy just wanted to share her concern with a friend but somehow down the grapevine the red eyes turned into the supposed white powder seen on his nose. Before long his parents were digging though his unkempt room that, despite it appearance, always smelt like a fresh shower. They dug through his car, and the fire that was always in his eyes was identical to the fire raging in his father’s eyes that night his father tried to hit him. He pulled that knife so fast at his father that there was not room for him to have possibly processed what impulse he just made. Tears filled his mother’s eyes as he proudly walked out that front door into his broken into car. Secretly, tears were buried inside his too as he drove away from his home that night. He drove too fast that it did not provide an opportunity for those tears to find a way around that prideful fire.

The room he slept in now no longer smelt like that fresh shower scent it once was. The scent never lingered on him strongly, however, because he shaved all that shaggy hair off that his face revealed all his distinctive features. Often, when I imagine the seriousness of his face, it brings goose bumps up and down my arms.

Chrissy’s face often came to mind whenever he slept with his new girlfriends. He never referred to them as girlfriends. Something I never quite understood. So tonight I asked him why he does not tell me about his girlfriends, and why he did not talk about the night he pulled the knife on his own father, and what he was thinking the day he almost died in that car accident with the girl he claimed he loved, and why he never told me what exactly Jared Roding said that triggered that instinct to punch him straight in the face. And it was then, the time no one was searching for it, that the prideful walls fell and the pain found a way to escape. I did not want to see those tears but he let them fall. “I never wanted to be a disappointment. I’m stuck. I can’t escape” he proclaimed. And before one word could come out of my mouth, he was gone: inebriated, running down to one of the busiest highways in town, with the only comfort of the pills the rattled in the bottle in his pocket and the flesh of his skin. And I know I can not follow. So I wait.

He glances at himself in the window --- long enough so that he can evaluate himself but short enough so that any bystanders or residents on the other side of the window cannot tell that he is starring at himself. He sees all the fast cars across the road, and equally feels as if he is moving just as fast.
He collapses on the sidewalk before he could even cross that busy highway. He then finds himself laying in a hospital bed with only enough strength to clench his fist and stare directly out the window. His face looks so pure like it once did in his middle school days.
“Who would have thought I would end up here…like this…after all these years?” he asks his friend.
His friend responds “everyone.”
And he lies there, asking himself “who am I.” A question that neither his friend nor I know that we can not answer. I no longer can attempt to save him if I do not know him.

Post 15

“Who is involved, and why does it matter?” are two important questions when dealing with any literature. Characters play a crucial role in developing points of the story and the values of the author. The experience that characters bring must be observed “outside ourselves” in order to make “our world bigger.” In order for us to get anything out of characters we must have some level of curiosity that drives us to want to know them and understand there purpose. We are drawn to people the same way. We must hone in on this curiosity in order to get the full value of text.

So a major point which characters is to engage with them the same way we engage with people we encounter in person. In David St. John’s My Tea with Madame Descartes, the narrator uses a great deal of the poem to develop how Madame Descartes looks. We immediately get some idea of the characters without even knowing through things she has said. We often, and the majority of the time, do the same in person: we often get an overall idea of the person simply by looking at the them, observing their outward traits, and their gestures. And that is not way it is wrong to do so, because often times our first impressions are true to some extent.

However, we also develop an idea about someone through careful dialogue with them. We have learned this in class in our groups and our ongoing course dialogue. We have begun to understand how we will interact with people which in turns give some perspective on who the person is. The same goes with literary text. We often do not have the narrator bulking up a story, detailing the characters and their purpose. The interaction, the dailouge shared between the characters often does an adequate job to fulfill those means.

Overall, reading the chapter on Character and reading the poem has developed an important fact about literature: “we engage with characters as we engage with people.”

Post 14

Much of life is suffering. I am no means trying to sound empathetic or depressing. But it seems, even as Christians, that humans are continuously trying to work through suffering.

James Baldwin’s “Sonny’s Blues” effectively demonstrates this exploration for an understanding of the universal suffering. Throughout the story, the narrator is painting a picture of his brother who is in a continuous search for his identity. But in the process of explaining his brother’s individual identity, the narrator finds his own.

I feel that this is the case for most of us. Not that we should necessarily live through the lives of other people. But we do develop understanding on the things in life through other’s experiences. We learn from others testimonies, actions, and ways of life. Sonny’s Blues can be seen as double-narrative, in that when the characters in the story are getting one thing out of the story, we, as readers, are finding a purpose for it to apply to our own lives. I am even doing that now while writing this post. (Then is this a triple narrative?)

Music, like literature, serves as a means of communication. This theme is evident in the last few parts of the story. The narrator is illustrating Sonny’s confinement throughout the story. Sonny says he feels stuck in Harlem. But Sonny seems stuck in the many complexities of life. But it appears that he finds an escape but then again a connection through the music; a connection with his brother, a connection with his future, and a feeling of contentment through music.

The narrator made a promise to his mom to look out for Sonny; a promise that comes back to him after his mother’s death. All the narrator wants to do is provide a better life for Sonny. But maybe the narrator was trying to find something himself.

Post 13

I attended Southeastern's production of The Imaginary Invalid and watched the entire play.

The Imaginary Invalid was a unique and creative production. I enjoyed a number of things:

-The creativity worked through the costumes and stage
-The overly dramatic acting from all the performers
- The modernity of a 17th century play


I will admit, I left the play with an excruciating headache and a handful of questions. I place most of the blame on the fact that I felt like there was too much going on that I could not focus on the dialogue of the play. But that is not to say it was a bad play. I just felt unsettled about the ending and the purpose of the play that I immediately, after viewing it, I went and did some research:

The Imaginary Invalid was Molière's last play. The bitter irony that comes from the play is the Moliere wrote about and played a man who thought he was dying when Moliere, himself died hours after the finale of the play. The play was made to entertain King Louis XIV. Firstly viewed as strictly comical and a joke, but throughout years of criticism the dialogue has been triumphed for its creative connection between the artist and the creator. The drama serves almost as a comical act poking fun at drama while communicating the connection with the real world.

After viewing the play and reading several critques about it, I have come to the conclusion that I wish that I could see the play at its original intended performance. I would therefore be able to compare the changes and modernization Professor Dixon added to it. But from what I could see from the play, I believe Dixon did a fair job at making it an appealing performance for the reasons I listed above and more. But for those same reasons, I feel that I did not get to experience the full intended purpose of the plot.

Post 12

So I am having difficulty finding something to write about for this post. However, I think I have now decided to look back on one of the first readings and post I did for the class and see how my views may or may have not changed.

In the story “What We Talk about When We Talk about Love” there were many different interpretations about love from the characters in the story. Many of the views on love which we would not consider love in our own lives. And that is because love is often reduced into personal opinion, something I put in my original post about this. And if that is the basis of our definition of love, then any love would be acceptable.

Love seems to have always been an important subject for people. We have already covered the theme of Love in almost all the readings thus far in this course. From the day we are born, we seek love and intimacy. And a lack of love causes people to resort to a lot of different emotions and attitudes. In class, many commented on how they were seeing the view of non-Christians and why they saw love in these ways. At first I saw this as a typical response to this text. However, I feel I understand the impact on a lack of love may be more destructive for a non-Christian opposed to a Christian.

But let us not fall into the trap of assuming our definitions and understandings of love are superior to that of a non-Christian. Love is a strong feeling that can hinder even the strongest of Christians. We have already read the impact both love and death had on the great theologian CS Lewis.

As Christians, we pursue an intimate relationship with our Creator by spending adequate time with Him. Whether that is in prayer or in his word, sufficient time must be spent with Him in order to develop intimacy. Our relationship with God should be a reflection of our relationships with others in our lives. However, that is not always the case. People may get lost in their own interpretation of love because of the feelings associated with their love life. In our relationship with God, it is not always about the feeling but rather the relationship. The discipline put into the development and continuous growth of the relationship shows our willingness to express love for Him. Therefore, love, whether with our Savior or our significant other, must not be degraded to the feelings but rather be built up by the willingness to commit.

Post 11

I feel that after experiencing about a month or so of blogging in this class, I understand a lot of fundamental concepts in literature that can come about from simply adapting the discipline of blogging into the curriculum. “This course emphasizes doing things with texts instead of reading passively” and I believe the majority of this “doing” comes from the work from the blog. In class, we interact as a whole class and in small groups. We have learned the importance of effective dialogue. Not just simply sitting and talking about our day, but incorporating literature into our small group dialogue. The discussions we have in both class and our small groups carry out into our blogs. I feel that this is where effective participation takes place. This is because blogging feels less restrictive then just writing an essay. As bloggers, we get to explore a range of expressions via the “blogging land”. Our interpretations of the text we read in class can be spilled out onto our blogs in many effective ways such as just simple putting our ideas and own personal interpretations on the text. We can way out different positions on the text. We can point out problematic elements to the text or give our own personal reflections. Most importantly, we allow room for comments and criticism from the rest of the class. We continue our class discussions outside the classroom. Because we have allowed these many forms of expression into our homework assignments, I have learned to engage in the text in class. I understand the effectiveness of painting in response to the Book of Joel or observing Professor Corrigan shed the layers of an onion. All of these things help us as students to participate in the text instead of letting it go over our heads. Blogging has been a major contribution to this concept. I enjoy finding connections in the text and applying it to my blog. When I sit back and think about how to reflect about the text I gather many questions and ideas. Blogging as helped me as a reader and a student dig deeper into the text and get value out of what we read and discuss in the class.

"I went to the Lakeview, Roselawn and Tiger Flowers cemetery complex for this fieldtrip, and I stayed there for at least 40 minutes."

Post 10

Before class on Monday, I remember discussing the poem with someone else in the class. We were talking about Lincoln’s assassination and the purpose behind the poem. The person I was talking to gave great insight to the fact that we, as a generation, have yet to go through something like that. We have not gone through and mourned the death of a president. And I try to imagine how I would feel. Would I feel terribly upset? Puzzled? Would I feel as if I was left astray and abandoned by someone completely significant even though they were not someone I had a deep, personal relationship with? How do you properly mourn the life of a leading figure in our country?

Walt Whitman’s poem hits on a number of themes or emotions such as love, hope, life, despair and rebirth. And all are portrayed through the life of the lilacs. The lilacs seem to serve Whitman as a guide to deal with and accept death. Lilacs, like humans, go through the repeated cycle of life. We live, we die. But still lilacs are not humans but Whitman treats the flower as a coping mechanism and a tool into figuring out a proper way to deal with Lincoln’s death.

Was it really his death that was a big deal? Or was it the time of his death? Was America truly more upset about a man of power ceasing or the state they were left in? And maybe this is why Whitman wrote this poem. Many people said in class that the poem was difficult to read. And I agree, it was difficult to read but perhaps that was the point of the complexity and difficulty in the poem. Because death itself is not a simple subject to unfold. Many questions are left unanswered; many feelings left incapable of digesting. Yet we continously find ourselves comparing such complex things in life with something as simple as a flower.

Post 9 Onion

Readers can make three false assumptions when reading poems. “The first is assuming that they should understand what they encounter on the first reading, and if they don’t, that something is wrong.” My first attempt at reading “The Traveling Onion” by Naomi Shihab Nye I felt as if I needed to seek out the meaning behind the Onion. What exactly was the meaning Nye was trying to get across to me as a reader? And that is when I made the first mistake as a reader: I felt as if my first read through the poem should have been something where I could immedialty picked up the meaning. However, after writing down my first ideas about eh poem, it made me want to read more and try to decode the poem.

The next false assumption when reading poems “is assuming that the poem is a kind of code, the each detail corresponds to one, and only one, thing, and unless they can crack this code, they’ve missed the point.” I feel like I do not make this mistake. Or that I want to convince myself that I do not make this mistake. Because I believe if I narrow down my opinion on a poem then I being stubborn. But maybe I was being a bit stubborn when assuming that I could “decode” the poem when I was so eager to pick it up and read it again.


“The third is assuming that the poem can mean anything readers want it to me.” After evaluating different views on what Naomi was describing in her poem, and listening to other people’s opinions on the poem, I would see how people could easily fall under this assumption. I feel like poetry is unconvential writing that can be appreciated when explored in convential terms such as our “literary experiment” in class.

Post 8

The idea of reading scripture as Literature was a great transition after reading about theme in The Literary Experience last class. I sometimes find myself neglecting to view the Bible as a work or literature (possibly because it seems blasphemous or something around those lines to some people). But reading Scripture from this perspective does require “a willing surrender” in order to fully soak in the text. In reading literature, we must learn to let go of what we believe we know in order to assemble a new point of view. This should be the same as with the bible. And I also believe a particular theme or moral should not be what we seek from reading the Word. In order to get the full value and understanding from scripture we must learn to participate in it, which means being full involved in a literal and figurative sense.

While reading the Book of Joel for class, it was difficult for me to feel like I was participating in the text. I will admit I was not fully engaged with the story. However, in class on Monday we had to find a spot outside where we would read passages from the book out loud. This made me understand the story a little bit more and feel the commandment in the tone. Rereading this Book from a literary perspective helped experience the strong sense of imagery and the poetic qualities of the story.

It is important to become fully engaged in Scripture as it is to be engaged in literature. In literature, we, as readers, are trying to understand from the writer’s viewpoint. In Scripture, we are trying to understand from the Lord’s perspective, yearning for revelation through His word. We never truly receive the full revelation of all God has in store in our lives, but careful examination of the Word helps reveal His desires.

Post 7: Theme

“We want texts to mean something.” And I think this is why we, as readers, go through “an insistent search for theme.” But sometimes when we believe there is always a theme to be searched for we lose sight of the qualities that make the story what it is, like chapter 3 of The Literary Experience stated.

In Charles Perrault’s story, Little Red Riding Hood, it seems easy to pick out the theme or moral of this story because it deals with an issue that we’re familiar with. And maybe this is the reason why we should not always look for themes in stories: we begin to generalize the meaning behind the story based on our own experiences.

But sometimes the meaning behind a story is not as simple as Little Red Riding Hood. Stories are not always as easily written and understandable as Little Red Riding Hood. Sometimes the ending is unpredictable like when the girl “took an automatic out of her basket and shot the wolf dead” in James Thurber’s The Girl and the Wolf. However, sometimes it’s not necessarily the content or words of the story that build meaning behind it. It is the qualities and the techniques of the writing that help build something purposeful from the story such as in a poem.

One of my favorite passages from chapter 3 of The Literary Experience was this: “Literary works and films may well ask us to step into unfamiliar territory and see things in context of the artist’s vision. To some extent, this involves a willing surrender. We approach works of art receptive to the notion that they may offer us something new, that they may widen our experience or deepen our powers of sympathy and empathy.” We must learn to surrender what is already familiar to us in order to experience something new and unexplored.

Post 6

Pass.

Post 5: A Grief Observed

Many different ideas and thoughts struck me when reading C.S. Lewis’ A Greif Observed. Lewis’ transparency, simplicity, and poignancy all were distinctive things in his book. And I feel like we, as readers, cannot fully soak in the significance of the book until we stop trying to figure out what his words meant for our lives, and instead figure out what did the words mean for his life. After all it was a journal of his observation of grief.

It seems from Lewis’ examination, grief caused him to question a lot of things that he was so sure of in his life such as his faith. From the beginning of the story, he goes straight into venting about his aggravation towards God and sounds almost blasphemous to some readers. But I feel like he carefully writes his frustration; placing passages to remind us that this is a side affect of his grief. At one point in chapter 1, he skillfully places “one only meets each hour or moment that comes” in the middle of the chapter, between his supposed “blasphemy.” When I read this I began to understand where he was coming from (not literally or to the full extent of his grief, but to a point where I could become emotionally connected through his text).

In his own observation, I feel like a reoccurring point he was trying to get across was that we could not fully understand grief and the side affects from it unless it hit us at a personal level. I feel like a another good passage from the story that depicts this is “you never know how much you really believe anything until its truth or falsehood becomes a matter of life and death to you.”

(I have no idea how I ended up transitioning into this). I remember a lot of people in class saying that the book was sad especially since it was written during his last few years alive. I think opposite. Yes, it is sad that he had to deal with his wife’s death and the emotional baggage it left. But I feel like instead of empathizing we should rejoice that a man recorded with such honesty during his final moments. Many people will never come to that place in their lives.

Post 4: Dialogue

Every time I hear the word dialogue, I immediately think of a conversation in a piece of literature. For some reason, it is difficult for me to process dialogue as something in the “real world” or as something I can participate in. Basically, I seem to neglect verbal dialogue because I feel as if written dialogue is emphasized more.

What exactly is dialogue?

In class on Monday, we took a field trip to Mi Casa Café in order to participate in real life dialogue over pieces of literature. Real life dialogue is different then written dialogue: the “uh’s” and the “erms” shows inconsistency to that of written dialogue. But it is those things that make dialogue with others enriching. I believe good dialogue consist of interruptions, awkward sounds, and body language.

This seems so much different then written dialogue. This may be why I find it difficult understanding the similarities of both because there are just too many differences. Written dialogue excludes those things that fascinate me about real life dialogue such as interruptions, awkward sounds and body language. And, of course, it makes sense why authors eliminate these digressions: they lengthen the story, and cause too much confusion in the reading.

But as I think back to the reading I brought to class on Monday, I am beginning to understand the link between written dialogue and real life dialogue. One of the books I brought was Tuesdays with Morrie (which I have mentioned from my first blog post.) The majority of the story consists of dialogue between the two main characters. This technique made the story beautifully written because it helped express the emotions of the characters. Dialogue helped reveal the characters hopes and worries. As well, dialogue gave empowerment to the story. The same goes for real life dialogue. We communicate and participate verbally with one another to express our opinions and beliefs. Spoken dialogue helps us connect with one another, just as written dialogue hopes to connect with us as a reader.

Post 3: Happy Endings

Similar to the previous read stories, Margaret Atwood’s Happy Endings explores love through “realistic” terms. This story first gives the typical and hopeful outlook of love, and then lists a variety of dysfunctional (yet, common) relationships. But it was not the dysfunction the story portrayed that intrigued me. A few ideas from this story came to mind.

First, the appearance of the story helped with the presentation of the emotions. I liked the simplicity of the story: not necessarily the context, but the language used. The language of the story seemed to fill in the gap between the reader and the characters. One particular line that I enjoyed from the story was “Crying is bad for your face, everyone knows that and so does Mary but she can’t stop.” This line resembled an actual passing thought I would have if I saw Mary crying everyday at work. It was easy to place myself in the story. As well, vulgar language throughout the story helped allude to the realistic distress of love. Sometimes offensive language in literature aids with the expression of emotions that additional language just does not seem to fill. This text is a good example of connecting with the reader --- in an emotional sense.

Because of this connection, it became easier for me to engage with the text and develop several more thoughts about love. I feel like in a lot of scenarios in Happy Endings that characters suffered from a great deal heartache because their ideals were not met. This is a sensible example of many relationships. People get lost in their own hopes of love, that they completely lose the possibility of ever experiencing it. I feel as if this line sums it up best: “Don’t be deluded by any other ending, they’re all fake, either deliberately fake, with malicious intent to deceive, or just motivated by excessive optimism if not by downright sentimentality.”


My main purpose of this post is simply to explain that language plays a great deal in connecting with the context.

Post 2

From reading the story What We Talked about When We Talk About Love, I have taken some notes on the strong impact of love. Firstly, people try narrowing down love into personal opinion. All the characters in the story had different ideas and beliefs about what true love can possibly be. However, resorting to this mentality makes all love acceptable. Terri believed that when she was beaten and abused she was receiving love. Most people would see that as not an appropriate representative of love. But if we believe that love is a matter of personal opinion, then Terri’s opinion would be accepted.

I believe the issue regarding the quest for the definition of love is that people tend to give a certain criteria for what love truly is. However, we give love an individual definition according to us then it is up for manipulation. Our definition of love becomes dependent on our opinions and is easily swayed when necessary. Love should be foundational. Love should be unshaken. Therefore, love should not be viewed through a limited criterion.

However, I, myself, am incapable of coming up with a definite definition of love. It is easy for me to point out what is not love but I leave myself vulnerable to what is love. I can only give my own experiences and beliefs on love. I believe love is a strong feeling for another. The capability to trust another with your heart is an indicator of love. Loving someone is being able to be transparent – open to cry, open to laugh; open to express your soul. But I also believe that love is more than emotions. When you have a strong desire for someone its easy for you to seek out those good things. But I believe true love is the ability to fight to keep those good things alive.

Post 1

When I was about three years old, I encountered “my first best friend” from listening to my father read Winnie the Pooh classics. I loved the adventures he and his friends went on, and often imagined myself in their place. This was what first captivated me to literature: how words could paint such a vivid story in one’s mind.


As I grew older and continued to read, I learned something else that was magnificent from literature: the capability of the words to not only paint a picture, but to touch the heart. The most recent books I have enjoyed reading include books by Mitch Albom, such as Tuesdays with Morrie, The Five People You Meet in Heaven, and For One More Day. What intrigues me about his books is their simplicity. He presents books as if he is speaking to you from his heart.


I believe all literature can have that effect on a reader. It can provoke emotions and awaken one’s soul. The words of another can sometimes be the words a reader was looking for in his or her own life. However, this mentality can be negative on a reader. Sometimes the longing to provoke one’s own emotions causes limitation in the variety of their reading. I am guilty of this. When reading for pleasure, I want a book I know will interest me. So I look for stories that are appealing—I judge a book by its cover. Why should literature be treated any differently from how we treat one another? Of course we like to surround ourselves with people who have the same interest as we do, but that does not mean we ignore the people who are different than us. The same should go for literature. Maybe if we first search for the author’s meaning, we will open our minds to ideas that we never would have explored.


Literature is both the expression and the exploration of one’s heart and mind.