Author Study
RAY BRADBURY
Master of Fantasy
"What better way is there to become immortal than to write every day of your life?"
born 1920
"IN LOVE WITH THE FUTURE"
Who is Ray Bradbury? Steven Spielberg, director of Close Encounters of the Third Kind
and E.T.: The Extra-Terrestrial, calls him "Papa." Filmmaker Gary Kurtz claims he may
never have produced Star Wars and The Empire Strikes Back if he had not heard
Bradbury speak in the 1960s. Who is Ray Bradbury? Perhaps the most influential writer
of science fiction and fantasy in generations.
Not only has Bradbury influenced filmmakers, he himself has been deeply influenced by the
adventure movies he saw and adored as a child.
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While living in Waukegan, Illinois, his mother took him to his first silent picture—The
Hunchback of Notre Dame—when he was just three. By the time he was eight,
Bradbury had discovered science fiction. "1 was in love ... with monsters and skeletons
and circuses and carnivals and dinosaurs and, at last, the red planet Mars," he fondly
remembers. At 9, Bradbury- started collecting the comic strip Buck Rogers, which he
said made him fall "completely in love with the future." Bradbury wrote his first
Martian stories when he was 12.
In 1934 Bradbury's family moved to Los Angeles, California. There Bradbury was able to
indulge the passion he had felt for movies since early childhood. He would sneak into
the film studios and beg the stars for signed photographs—souvenirs that hang in his
office today.
Did You Know?
Ray Bradbury does not know how to drive a car
He refuses to write on a computer and dislikes the Internet.
He has published over 500 works, including short stories, plays, novels, television
scripts, screenplays, and poetry.
Apollo astronauts named a crater on the moon Dandelion Crater after Bradbury's novel
Dandelion Wine.
"WHEN I WAS 19, I SOLD NEWSPAPERS." The world had fallen upon hard times in
1938, the year Bradbury graduated from high school. His family had no money to spare.
Bradbury sold newspapers on Los Angeles street corners by day and spent hours
reading and writing in the public library at night. Just before his 21st birthday, he sold a
story. Soon he was selling about one story a
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month to popular science-fiction and horror magazines. Bradbury quit selling papers
and was instead selling his own stories to national magazines, such as The Saturday
Evening Post. Bradbury's career was off the launchpad.
In 1947, Bradbury, an admirer of Edgar Allan Poe and other masters of fantasy and horror,
published a collection of horror tales called Dark Carnival. Then came The Martian
Chronicles, tales of Earth people trying to conquer and settle Mars. These Martian
stories reflected fears that many Americans felt during the 1950s—nuclear war, racism,
censorship, and a longing to maintain a simpler life against an increasingly
technological age.
"I WAS LITERALLY WRITING A DIME NOVEL."
In the early 1950s Bradbury wrote the first draft of the novel that became Fahrenheit 451 on
a coin-operated typewriter in the basement of the library of the University of California,
Los Angeles. The typewriters rented for a dime each half hour. Working feverishly,
Bradbury spent a total of $9.80 in dimes as he cranked out his novel.
Fahrenheit 451—the temperature at which book paper catches fire—is a novel set in a
future when the written word is seen as subversive and forbidden by the authorities. In
this world firemen have the job of destroying libraries and burning books. The novel
has its roots in Bradbury's revulsion at the Nazi book burnings that took place before
and during World War II, but it is a protest against censorship in general. Bradbury
describes a small group of rebels who risk their lives by memorizing entire works of
literature in the hope of preserving the accomplishments of the human spirit.
In 1967, Francois Truffaut directed a motion-picture version of Fahrenheit 451 that was
extremely popular, and a new film version was being planned in 2001.
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Besides the numerous collections of short stories, poems, and essays Bradbury has authored,
he has also written screenplays and scripts for television, including The Twilight Zone
and The Ray Bradbury Theater. And he has shown his creativity not only in his writing.
The futuristic U.S.
Pavilion at the 1964 New York World's Fair was Bradbury's brainchild. He also designed
the Spaceship Earth exhibit at the Epcot Center in Florida. Ray Bradbury's rich
imagination has made him a powerful creative force on the American literary scene for
more than half a century.
His LIFE and TIMES (---see timeline on pages 474 & 475)
1920
Born August 22 in Waukegan, Illinois
1920
Treaty of Versailles takes effect; WWI ends.
1929
Stock market crash
1932
Writes first Martian stories
1939
Germany invades Poland; WWII begins.
1945
U.S. drops atomic bombs on Japan; WWII ends.
1950
Publishes The Martian Chronicles
1953
Publishes Fahrenheit 451
1957
Soviets launch Sputnik satellite.
1963
Nominated for an Academy Award
1965-1973
U.S. ground troops in Vietnam War
1969
U.S. astronauts walk on moon.
1975
U.S. Viking spacecraft lands on Mars.
1977
Receives World Fantasy Award for Lifetime Achievement
1985
The Ray Bradbury Theater debuts on TV
1989
Berlin Wall is torn down; German reunification begins.
1995
Named Los Angeles Citizen of the Year
1998
Construction begins on International Space Station.
FUTURE WOLDS, PRESENT REALITY
Science-fiction writers often comment on society and its problems in their works. Even
though they may set their stories in the future, these works comment on the real world
in which their authors live.
In science fiction, writers are free to imagine worlds in which current trends whose final
consequences are still unknown can be seen fully developed. During the Cold War, the
period that followed World War II and ended in 1989, many science-fiction writers
wrote works that explored the consequences of authoritarian philosophies such as
Fascism and Communism. For example classics such as Brave New World (1932), by
Aldous Huxley, Nineteen Eighty-Four (1949), by George Orwell, Fahrenheit 451
(1953), by Ray Bradbury, and Cat's Cradle (1963), by Kurt Vonnegut, explore worlds
in which governments have near total control over the lives, minds, and emotions of
ordinary people. These writers were reading to events of their own day.
When you read science fiction, you should enjoy the fantasy, but you should also pay
attention to what the writer may be saying about the world in which you live.
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SHORT STORY
Dark They Were, and Golden-Eyed
by RAY BRADBURY
Connect toYour Life
Starting a New Life Have you ever been in a situation where you had to adapt to a very
different environment from what you were used to? How did you react? What things
about yourself did you have to change? Share your thoughts with a small group.
Build Background
The Red Planet Named for the Roman god of war because of its "warlike" reddish color,
Mars is the fourth planet from the Sun. The first "modern" map of Mars, drawn by
astronomer Giovanni Schiaparelli in 1877, showed a planet crisscrossed by channels or
canals. Inspired by Schiaparelli's work, astronomer Percival Lowell, in the 1890s,
speculated that the "canals" might have been constructed by intelligent beings. This
theory is now known to be untrue. Yet, Mars has been the setting for numerous sciencefiction stories, most of which rarely depict the planet realistically.
WORDS TO KNOW Vocabulary Preview
amiss
flimsy
recede
dwindle
forlorn
FocusYour Reading
LITERARY ANALYSIS CIRCULAR PLOT STRUCTURE
Plot development is often explained in terms of a triangle, in which the rising action is one
side of the triangle, the climax is the apex, and the falling action is the other side (see
page 171). Some plots can be explained in terms of a circle because important details
and events are repeated at the beginning and end of the story. As you read this story,
pay careful attention to the beginning and ending of the story to see what elements
make the plot "circular!'
ACTIVE READING VISUALIZE
Forming a mental picture based on a written description is called visualizing. Visualizing
involves all the senses, not just sight. When you read, try to "see" the settings and
characters described, but also try to hear, feel, smell, and taste what the writer describes.
READER'S NOTEBOOK As you read "Dark They Were, and Golden-Eyed," jot down a
few descriptions that help you visualize the setting, characters, or action.
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DARK THEY WERE, AND GOLDEN-EYED
BY RAY BRADBURY
The rocket metal cooled in the meadow winds. Its lid gave a bulging pop. From its clock
interior stepped a man, a woman, and three children. The other passengers whispered
away across the Martian meadow, leaving the man alone among his family.
The man felt his hair flutter and the tissues of his body draw tight as if he were standing at
the center of a vacuum. His wife, before him, seemed almost to whirl away in smoke.
The children, small seeds, might at any instant be sown to all the Martian climes.
The children looked up at him, as people look to the sun to tell what time of their life it is.
His face was cold.
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"What's wrong?" asked his wife.
"Let's get back on the rocket."
"Go back to Earth?"
"Yes! listen!"
The wind blew as if to flake away their identities. At any moment the Martian air might
draw his soul from him, as marrow comes from a white bone. He felt submerged in a
chemical that could dissolve his intellect and burn away his past.
They looked at Martian hills that time had worn with a crushing pressure of years. They saw
the old cities, lost in their meadows, lying like children's delicate bones among the
blowing lakes of grass.
"Chin up, Harry," said his wife. "It's too late. We've come over sixty million miles."
The children with their yellow hair hollered at the deep dome of Martian sky. There was no
answer but the racing hiss of wind through the stiff grass.
He picked up the luggage in his cold hands. "Here we go," he said—a man standing on the
edge of a sea, ready to wade in and be drowned.
They walked into town.
Their name was Bittering. Harry and his wife Cora; Dan, Laura, and David. They built a
small white cottage and ate good breakfasts there, but the fear was never gone. It lay
with Mr. Bittering and Mrs. Bittering, a third unbidden partner at every midnight talk, at
every dawn awakening.
"I feel like a salt crystal," he said, "in a mountain stream, being washed away. We don't
belong here. We're Earth people. This is Mars. It was meant for Martians. For heaven's
sake, Cora, let's buy tickets for home!"
But she only shook her head. "One day the atom bomb will fix Earth. Then we'll be safe
here."
"Safe and insane!"
Tick-tock, seven o'clock sang the voice-clock; time to get up. And they did.
Something made him check everything each morning—warm hearth, potted bloodgeraniums—precisely as if he expected something to be amiss. The morning paper was
toast-warm from the 6 A.M. Earth rocket. He broke its seal and tilted it at his breakfast
place. He forced himself to be convivial.
"Colonial days all over again," he declared. "Why, in ten years there'll be a million
Earthmen on Mars. Big cities, everything! They said we'd fail. Said the Martians would
resent our invasion. But did we find any Martians? Not a living soul! Oh, we found
their empty cities, but no one in them. Right?"
A river of wind submerged the house. When the windows ceased rattling Mr. Bittering
swallowed and looked at the children.
"I don't know," said David. "Maybe there're Martians around we don't see. Sometimes nights
I think I hear 'em. I hear the wind. The sand hits my window. I get scared. And I see
those towns way up in the mountains where the Martians lived a long time ago. And I
think I see things moving around those towns, Papa. And I wonder if those Martians
mind us living here. I wonder if they won't do something to us for coming here."
WORDS TO KNOW
amiss (ə-mĭs') adj. out of proper order; wrong
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"Nonsense!" Mr. Bittering looked out the windows. "We're clean, decent people." He looked
at his children. "All dead cities have some kind of ghosts in them. Memories, I mean."
He stared at the hills. "You see a staircase and you wonder what Martians looked like
climbing it. You see Martian paintings and you wonder what the painter was like. You
make a little ghost in your mind, a memory. It's quite natural. Imagination." He stopped.
"You haven't been prowling up in those ruins, have you?"
"No, Papa." David looked at his shoes.
"See that you stay away from them. Pass the jam."
"Just the same," said little David, "1 bet something happens."
Something happened that afternoon.
Laura stumbled through the settlement, crying. She dashed blindly onto the porch.
"Mother, Father—the war, Earth!" she sobbed. "A radio flash just came. Atom bombs hit
New York! All the space rockets blown up. No more rockets to Mars, ever!"
"Oh, Harry!" The mother held onto her husband and daughter.
"Are you sure, Laura?" asked the father quietly.
Laura wept. "We're stranded on Mars, forever and ever!"
For a long time there was only the sound of the wind in the late afternoon.
Alone, thought Bittering. Only a thousand of us here. No way back. No way. No way. Sweat
poured from his face and his hands and his body; he was drenched in the hotness of his
fear. He wanted to strike Laura, cry, "No, you're lying! The rockets will come back!"
Instead, he stroked Laura's head against him and said, "The rockets will get through
someday."
"Father, what will we do?"
"Go about our business, of course. Raise crops and children. Wait. Keep things going until
the war ends and the rockets come again."
The two boys stepped out onto the porch. "Children," he said, sitting there, looking beyond
them, "I've something to tell you."
"We know," they said.
In the following days, Bittering wandered often through the garden to stand alone in his fear.
As long as the rockets had spun a silver web across space, he had been able to accept
Mars. For he had always told himself: Tomorrow, if I want, I can buy a ticket and go
back to Earth.
But now: The web gone, the rockets lying in jigsaw heaps of molten girder and unsnaked
wire. Earth people left to the strangeness of Mars, the cinnamon dusts and wine airs, to
be baked like gingerbread shapes in Martian summers, put into harvested storage by
Martian winters. What would happen to him, the others? This was the moment Mars
had waited for. Now it would cat them.
He got down on his knees in the flower bed, a spade in his nervous hands. Work, he thought,
work and forget.
He glanced up from the garden to the Martian mountains. He thought of the proud old
Martian names that had once been on those peaks. Earthmen, dropping from the sky,
had gazed upon hills, rivers, Martian seats left nameless in spite of names. Once
Martians had built cities, named cities; climbed mountains, named mountains; sailed
seas, named seas. Mountains melted, seas drained, cities tumbled. In spite of this, the
Earthmen had felt a silent guilt at putting new names to these ancient hills and valleys.
Nevertheless, man lives by symbol and label. The names were given.
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Mr. Bittering felt very alone in his garden under the Martian sun, anachronism bent here,
planting Earth flowers in a wild soil.
Think. Keep thinking. Different things. Keep your mind free of Earth, the atom war, the lost
rockets.
He perspired. He glanced about. No one watching. He removed his tie. Pretty bold, he
thought. First your coat off, now your tie. He hung it neatly on a peach tree he had
imported as a sapling from Massachusetts.
He returned to his philosophy of names and mountains. The Earthmen had changed names.
Now there were Hormel Valleys, Roosevelt Seas, Ford Hills, Vanderbilt Plateaus,
Rockefeller Rivers, on Mars. It wasn't right. The American settlers had shown wisdom,
using old Indian prairie names: Wisconsin, Minnesota, Idaho, Ohio, Utah, Milwaukee,
Waukegan, Osseo. The old names, the old meanings.
Staring at the mountains wildly, he thought: Are you up there? All the dead ones, you
Martians? Well, here we are, alone, cut off! Come down, move us out! We're helpless!
The wind blew a shower of peach blossoms.
He put out his sun-browned hand and
gave a small cry. He touched the blossoms and picked them up. He turned them, he touched
them again and again. Then he shouted for his wife.
"Cora!"
She appeared at a window. He ran to her.
"Cora, these blossoms!"
---see picture
The Body of a House #1 of 8 (1993), Robert Beckmann. Oil on canvas, 69" x 968:1. Copyright © 1993 Robert
Beckmann. Permanent collection: Nevada Museum of Art. Photograph by Tony Scodwell.
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She handled them.
"Do you see? They're different. They've changed! They're not peach blossoms any more!"
"Look all right to me," she said.
"They're not. They're wrong! I can't tell how. An extra petal, a leaf, something, the color, the
smell!"
The children ran out in time to see their father hurrying about the garden, pulling up
radishes, onions, and carrots from their beds.
"Cora, come look!"
They handled the onions, the radishes, the carrots among them.
"Do they look like carrots?" "Yes ... no." She hesitated. "I don't know."
"They're changed."
"Perhaps."
"You know they have! Onions but not onions, carrots but not carrots. Taste: the same but
different. Smell: not like it used to be." He felt his heart pounding, and he was afraid.
He dug his fingers into the earth. "Cora, what's happening? What is it? We've got to get
away from this." He ran across the garden. Each tree felt his touch. "The roses. The
roses. They're turning green!"
And they stood looking at the green roses.
And two days later Dan came running.
"Come see the cow. I was milking her and I saw it. Come on!"
They stood in the shed and looked at their one cow.
It was growing a third horn.
And the lawn in front of their house very quietly and slowly was coloring itself like spring
violets. Seed from Earth but growing up a soft purple.
"We must get away," said Bittering. "We'll eat this stuff and then we'll change—who knows
to what? I can't let it happen. There's only one thing to do. Burn this food!"
"It's not poisoned."
"But it is. Subtly, very subtly. A little bit. A very little bit. We mustn't touch it."
He looked with dismay at their house. "Even the house. The wind's done something to it.
The air's burned it. The fog at night. The boards, all warped out of shape. It's not an
Earthman's house any more."
"Oh, your imagination!"
He put on his coat and tie. "I'm going into town. We've got to do something now. I'll be
back."
"Wait, Harry!" his wife cried. But he was gone.
In town, on the shadowy step of the grocery store, the men sat with their hands on their
knees, conversing with great leisure and ease. Mr. Bittering wanted to fire a pistol in the
air.
What are you doing, you fools! he thought. Sitting here! You've heard the news—we're
stranded on this planet. Well, move! Aren't you frightened? Aren't you afraid? What are
you going to do?
"Hello, Harry," said everyone.
"Look," he said to them. "You did hear the news, the other day, didn't you?"
They nodded and laughed. "Sure. Sure, Harry."
"What are you going to do about it?"
"Do, Harry, do? What can we do?"
"Build a rocket, that's what!"
"A rocket, Harry? To go back to all that trouble? Oh, Harry!"
"But you must want to go back. Have you
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noticed the peach blossoms, the onions, the grass?"
"Why, yes, Harry, seems we did," said one of the men.
"Doesn't it scare you?"
"Can't recall that it did much, Harry."
"Idiots!"
"Now, Harry."
Bittering wanted to cry. "You've got to work with me. If we stay here, we'll all change. The
air. Don't you smell it? Something in the air. A Martian virus, maybe; some seed, or a
pollen. Listen to me!"
They stared at him.
"Sam," he said to one of them.
"Yes, Harry?"
"Will you help me build a rocket?"
"Harry, I got a whole load of metal and some blueprints. You want to work in my metal
shop on a rocket, you're welcome. I'll sell you that metal for five hundred dollars. You
should be able to construct a right pretty rocket, if you work alone, in about thirty
years."
Everyone laughed.
"Don't laugh."
Sam looked at him with quiet good humor.
"Sam," Bittering said. "Your eyes—"
"What about them, Harry?"
"Didn't they used to be gray?"
"Well now, I don't remember."
"They were, weren't they?"
"Why do you ask, Harry?"
"Because now they're kind of yellow-colored."
"Is that so, Harry?" Sam said, casually.
"And you're taller and thinner—"
"You might he right, Harry."
"Sam, you shouldn't have yellow eyes."
"Harry, what color eyes have you got?" Sam said.
"My eyes? They're blue, of course."
"Here you are, Harry." Sam handed him a pocket mirror. "Take a look at yourself."
Mr. Bittering hesitated, and then raised the mirror to his face.
There were little, very dim flecks of new gold captured in the blue of his eyes.
"Now look what you've done," said Sam a moment later. "You've broken my mirror."
Harry Bittering moved into the metal shop and began to build the rocket. Men stood in the
open door and talked and joked without raising their voices. Once in a while they gave
him a hand on lifting something. But mostly they just idled and watched him with their
yellowing eyes.
"It's suppertime, Harry," they said.
His wife appeared with his supper in a wicker basket.
"I won't touch it," he said. "I'll eat only food from our Deepfreeze. Food that came from
Earth. Nothing from our garden."
His wife stood watching him. "You can't build a rocket."
"I worked in a shop once, when I was twenty. I know metal. Once I get it started, the others
will help," he said, not looking at her, laying out the blueprints.
"Harry, Harry," she said, helplessly.
"We've got to get away, Cora. We've got to!"
The nights were full of wind that blew down the empty moonlit sea meadows past the little
white chess cities lying for their twelve- thousandth year in the shallows. In the
Earthmen's settlement, the Bittering house shook with a feeling of change.
Lying abed, Mr. Bittering felt his bones shifted, shaped, melted like gold. His wife, lying
beside him, was dark from many sunny
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afternoons. Dark she was, and golden-eyed, burnt almost black by the sun, sleeping, and
the children metallic in their beds, and the wind roaring forlorn and changing through
the old peach trees, the violet grass, shaking out green rose petals.
The fear would not be stopped. It had his throat and heart. It dripped in a wetness of the arm
and the temple and the trembling palm.
A green star rose in the cast.
A strange word emerged from Mr. Bittering's lips.
"Iorrt. Iorrt." He repeated it.
It was a Martian word. He knew no Martian.
In the middle of the night he arose and dialed a call through to Simpson, the archaeologist.
"Simpson, what does the word Iorrt mean?"
"Why that's the old Martian word for our planet Earth. Why?"
"No special reason."
The telephone slipped from his hand.
"Hello, hello, hello, hello," it kept saying while he sat gazing out at the green star.
"Bittering? Harry, are you there?"
The days were full of metal sound. He laid the frame of the rocket with the reluctant help of
three indifferent men. He grew very tired in an hour or so and had to sit down.
"The altitude," laughed a man.
"Are you eating, Harry?" asked another.
"I'm eating," he said, angrily.
"From your Deepfreeze?"
"Yes!"
"You're getting thinner, Harry."
"I'm not!"
"And taller."
"Liar!"
H is wife took him aside a few days later. "Harry, I've used up all the food in the
Deepfreeze. There's nothing left. I'll have to make sandwiches using food grown on
Mars."
He sat down heavily.
"You must eat," she said. "You're weak."
"Yes," he said.
He took a sandwich, opened it, looked at it, and began to nibble at it.
"And take the rest of the day off," she said. "It's hot. The children want to swim in the canals
and hike. Please come along."
"I can't waste time. This is a crisis!"
"Just for an hour," she urged. "A swim'll do you good."
He rose, sweating. "All right, all right. Leave me alone. I'll come."
"Good for you, Harry."
The sun was hot, the day quiet. There was only an immense staring burn upon the land.
They moved along the canal, the father, the mother, the racing children in their
swimsuits. They stopped and ate meat sandwiches. He saw their skin baking brown.
And he saw the yellow eyes of his wife and his children, their eyes that were never
yellow before. A few tremblings shook him, but were carried off in waves of pleasant
heat as he lay in the sun. He was too tired to be afraid.
"Cora, how long have your eyes been yellow?"
She was bewildered. "Always, I guess." "They didn't change from brown in the last three
months?"
She bit her lips. "No. Why do you ask?"
"Never mind."
They sat there.
WORDS TO KNOW
forlorn (fôr-lôrn'') adj. a sense of aloneness and sadness
485
"The children's eyes," he said. "They're yellow, too."
"Sometimes growing children's eyes change color."
"Maybe we're children, too. At least to Mars. That's a thought." He laughed. "Think I'll
swim."
They leaped into the canal water, and he let himself sink down and down to the bottom like
a golden statue and lie there in green silence. All was water-quiet and deep, all was
peace. He felt the steady, slow current drift him easily.
If I lie here long enough, he thought, the
486
water will work and eat away my flesh until the hones show like coral. Just my skeleton
left. And then the water can build on that skeleton—green things, deep water things, red
things, yellow things. Change. Change. Slow, deep, silent change. And isn't that what it
is up there?
He saw the sky submerged above him, the sun made Martian by atmosphere and time and
space.
Up there, a big river, he thought, a Martian river; all of us lying deep in it, in our pebble
houses, in our sunken boulder houses, like crayfish hidden, and the water washing away
our old bodies and lengthening the bones and—
He let himself drift up through the soft light. Dan sat on the edge of the canal, regarding his
father seriously.
"Utha," he said.
"What?" asked his father.
The boy smiled. "You know. Utha's the Martian word for 'father.'"
"Where did you learn it?"
"I don't know. Around. Utha!"
"What do you want?"
The boy hesitated. "I—I want to change my name."
"Change it?"
"Yes."
His mother swam over. "What's wrong with Dan for a name?"
Dan fidgeted. "The other day you called Dan, Dan, Dan. I didn't even hear. I said to myself,
That's not my name. I've a new name I want to use."
Mr. Bittering held to the side of the canal, his body cold and his heart pounding slowly.
"What is this new name?"
"Linnl. Isn't that a good name? Can I use it? Can't I, please?"
Mr. Bittering put his hand to his head. He thought of the silly rocket, himself working alone,
himself alone even among his family, so alone.
He heard his wife say, "Why not?"
He heard himself say, "Yes, you can use it."
"Yaaa!" screamed the boy. "I'm Linnl, Linnl!"
Racing down the meadowlands, he danced and shouted.
Mr. Bittering looked at his wife. "Why did we do that?"
"I don't know," she said. "It just seemed like a good idea."
They walked into the hills. They strolled on old mosaic paths, beside still pumping
fountains. The paths were covered with a thin film of cool water all summer long. You
kept your bare feet cool all the day, splashing as in a creek, wading.
They came to a small deserted Martian villa with a good view of the valley. It was on top of
a hill. Blue marble halls, large murals, a swimming pool. It was refreshing in this hot
summertime. The Martians hadn't believed in large cities.
"How nice," said Mrs. Bittering, "if we could move up here to this villa for the summer."
"Come on," he said. "We're going back to town. There's work to be done on the rocket."
But as he worked that night, the thought of the cool blue marble villa entered his mind. As
the hours passed, the rocket seemed less important.
In the flow of days and weeks, the rocket receded and dwindled. The old fever was gone. It
frightened him to think he had let it slip this way. But somehow the heat, the air, the
working conditionsWORDS TO KNOW
recede (rĭ-sēd') v. to become fainter and more distant
dwindle (dwĭn'd1) v. to become less, until little remains
487
He heard the men murmuring on the porch of his metal shop.
"Everyone's going. You heard?"
"All going. That's right."
Bittering came out. "Going where?" He saw a couple of trucks, loaded with children and
furniture, drive down the dusty street.
"Up to the villas," said the man.
"Yeah, Harry. I'm going. So is Sam. Aren't you Sam?"
"That's right, Harry. What about you?"
"I've got work to do here."
"Work! You can finish that rocket in the autumn, when it's cooler."
He took a breath. "I got the frame all set up."
"In the autumn is better." Their voices were lazy in the heat.
"Got to work," he said.
"Autumn," they reasoned. And they sounded so sensible, so right.
"Autumn would be best," he thought. "Plenty of time, then."
No! cried part of himself, deep down, put away, locked tight, suffocating. No! No!
"In the autumn," he said.
"Come on, Harry," they all said.
"Yes," he said, feeling his flesh melt in the hot liquid air. "Yes, in the autumn. I'll begin
work again then."
"I got a villa near the Tirra Canal," said someone.
"You mean the Roosevelt Canal, don't you?" "Tirra. The old Martian name."
"But on the map—"
"Forget the map. It's Tirra now. Now I found a place in the Pillan Mountains—"
"You mean the Rockefeller Range," said Bittering.
"I mean the Pillan Mountains," said Sam.
"Yes," said Bittering, buried in the hot, swarming air. "The Pillan Mountains."
Everyone worked at loading the truck in the hot, still afternoon of the next day.
---see picture
Skater 1956). Giacomo Nlanzu. Bronze, 80" x 17 5/8". Hu-shhorn NIuscum and Sculpture (.Arden,
Smithsonian Institution, gift of Joseph H. Hilshborn, 1966. Photography by Lee Stalswolth.
488
Laura, Dan, and David carried packages. Or, as they preferred to be known, Ttil, Linnl, and
Werr carried packages.
The furniture was abandoned in the little white cottage.
"It looked just fine in Boston," said the mother. "And here in the cottage. But up at the villa?
No. We'll get it when we come back in the autumn."
Bittering himself was quiet.
"I've some ideas on furniture for the villa," he said after a time. "Big, lazy furniture."
"What about your encyclopedia? You're taking it along, surely?"
Mr. Bittering glanced away. "I'll come and get it next week."
They turned to their daughter. "What about your New York dresses?"
The bewildered girl stared. "Why, I don't want them any more."
They shut off the gas, the water, they locked the doors and walked away. Father peered into
the truck.
"Gosh, we're not taking much," he said. "Considering all we brought to Mars, this is only a
handful!"
He started the truck.
Looking at the small white cottage for a long moment, he was filled with a desire to rush to
it, touch it, say good-bye to it, for he felt as if he were going away on a long journey,
leaving something to which he could never quite return, never understand again.
Just then Sam and his family drove by in another truck.
"Hi, Bittering! Here we go!"
The truck swung down the ancient highway out of town. There were sixty others traveling in
the same direction. The town filled with a silent, heavy dust from their passage. The
canal waters lay blue in the sun, and a quiet wind moved in the strange trees.
"Good-bye, town!" said Mr. Bittering.
"Good-bye, good-bye," said the family, waving to it.
They did not look back again.
Summer burned the canals dry. Summer moved like flame upon the meadows. In the empty
Earth settlement, the painted houses flaked and peeled. Rubber tires upon which
children had swung in back yards hung suspended like stopped clock pendulums in the
blazing air.
At the metal shop, the rocket frame began to rust.
In the quiet autumn Mr. Bittering stood, very dark now, very golden-eyed, upon the slope
above his villa, looking at the valley.
"It's time to go back," said Cora.
"Yes, but we're not going," he said quietly. "There's nothing there any more."
"Your books," she said. "Your fine clothes."
"Your Illes and your fine ior uele rre," she said.
"The town's empty. No one's going back," he said. "There's no reason to, none at all."
The daughter wove tapestries and the sons played songs on ancient flutes and pipes, their
laughter echoing in the marble villa.
Mr. Bittering gazed at the Earth settlement far away in the low valley. "Such odd, such
ridiculous houses the Earth people built."
"They didn't know any better," his wife mused. "Such ugly people. I'm glad they've gone."
They both looked at each other, startled by all they had just finished saying. They laughed.
489
"Where did they go?" he wondered. He glanced at his wife. She was golden and slender as
his daughter. She looked at him, and he seemed almost as young as their eldest son.
"I don't know," she said.
"We'll go back to town maybe next year, or the year after, or the year after that," he said,
calmly. "Now—I'm warm. How about taking a swim?"
They turned their backs to the valley. Arm in arm they walked silently down a path of clearrunning spring water.
Five years later a rocket fell out of the sky.
It lay steaming in the valley. Men leaped out of it, shouting.
"We won the war on Earth! We're here to rescue you! Hey!"
But the American-built town of cottages, peach trees, and theaters was silent. They found a
flimsy rocket frame rusting in an empty shop.
The rocket men searched the hills. The captain established headquarters in an abandoned
bar. His lieutenant came hack to report.
"The town's empty, but we found native life in the hills, sir. Dark people. Yellow eyes.
Martians. Very friendly. We talked a bit, not much. They learn English fast. I'm sure our
relations will he most friendly with them, sir."
"Dark, eh?" mused the captain. "How many?"
"Six, eight hundred, I'd say, living in those marble ruins in the hills, sir. Tall, healthy.
Beautiful women."
"Did they tell you what became of the men and women who built this Earth settlement,
Lieutenant?"
"They hadn't the foggiest notion of what happened to this town or its people."
"Strange. You think those Martians killed them?"
"They look surprisingly peaceful. Chances are a plague did this town in, sir."
"Perhaps. I suppose this is one of those mysteries we'll never solve. One of those mysteries
you read about."
The captain looked at the room, the dusty windows, the blue mountains rising beyond, the
canals moving in the light, and he heard the soft wind in the air. He shivered. Then,
recovering, he tapped a large fresh map he had thumbtacked to the top of an empty
table.
"Lots to he done, lieutenant." His voice droned on and quietly on as the sun sank behind the
blue hills. "New settlements. Mining sites, minerals to be looked for. Bacteriological
specimens taken. The work, all the work. And the old records were lost. We'll have a
job of remapping to do, renaming the mountains and rivers and such. Calls for a little
imagination.
"What do you think of naming those mountains the Lincoln Mountains, this canal the
Washington Canal, those hills—we can name those hills for you, Lieutenant.
Diplomacy. And you, for a favor, might name a town for me. Polishing the apple. And
why not make this the Einstein Valley, and farther over ... are you listening,
lieutenant?"
The lieutenant snapped his gaze from the blue color and the quiet mist of the hills far
beyond the town.
"What? Oh, yes, sir!"
WORDS TO KNOW
flimsy (flĭm'zē) adj. not solid or strong
490
THINKING through the LITERATURE
Connect to the Literature
1. What Do You Think? What was your reaction to the changes that took place in the
colonists from Earth?
Comprehension Check
Why did the Bitterings settle on Mars?
Why did the rockets from Earth stop coming to Mars?
What details tell you that the Bitterings have become more Martian than human?
Think Critically
2. In your opinion, what is the significance of the physical and psychological changes that
take place in the Bitterings?
3. What do you think happened to the original inhabitants of Mars? What do you think will
happen to the Bitterings?
4. Does the character of Harry Bittering make the story more or less believable?
Think About:
how he deals with his own fears in comparison to Cora's fear of nuclear war
how he reacts to the children's new names
how he copes with the changes within himself
5. ACTIVE READING VISUALIZING
Look back at your READER'S NOTEBOOK. Which of the descriptions you recorded
creates the most vivid picture in your mind? What phrases help you to visualize that
scene?
6. The lieutenant likes the Martian landscape. What could you predict from that
information?
7. What do you think the relationship between the Bitterings and the newcomers will be?
Explain.
Extend Interpretations
8. Critic's Corner One critic said that Bradbury's stories are "of people, real and honest and
true in their understanding of human nature...." Do you agree? Cite details from the
story to support your answer.
9. Connect to Life How do you think you would react if you were in the Bittering's
situation? Explain your answer.
Literary Analysis
CIRCULAR PLOT STRUCTURE
Some story plots can be called circular because their endings repeat details and events from
their beginnings. At the beginning of this selection, the new colonists from Earth, the
Bitterings, find themselves in a place they think has been deserted. At the end of the
story, they retreat to the mountains, and a new set of colonists from Earth arrives,
believing that they are the only inhabitants. Events at the end of the story repeat events
at the beginning.
Paired Activity Reread the story, paying attention to the changes that the colonists go
through. With a partner, create a circular story map to plot the major events. Include as
many events as you think important. How are the beginning and the ending of the story
similar? What do you predict will happen to the second group of colonists? Why?
491
SHORT STORY
The Golden Kite, the Silver Wind
by RAY BRADBURY
Connect to Your Life
Deadlock Have you ever found yourself facing a problem for which there seemed to be no
good solution? How did you resolve the problem? Did someone give you helpful
advice? With a small group of classmates, discuss your experiences.
Build Background
HISTORY
The Cold War was a period of strained relations between the Western powers and the
communist bloc, following the end of World War II and lasting until 1989.
One aspect of the Cold War was the arms race. Each side tried to protect itself by creating
weapons that could match or surpass in destructiveness the weapons created by the
other side. The result was that both sides possessed an arsenal of weapons capable of
destroying life on Earth several times over. This policy, called "mutually assured
destruction," ensured that if either side decided to attack its opponent, the opponent
would immediately respond in kind. Therefore, an attack by one side would not only
destroy its enemy but guarantee its own destruction.
The fear that the Cold War would turn into a "hot" war was real and was the inspiration for a
great number of literary works, including many by Ray Bradbury.
WORDS TO KNOW Vocabulary Preview
acclaimed
quench
spurn
pandemonium
ravenous
FocusYour Reading
LITERARY ANALYSIS THEME
A theme is a central idea, message, or moral in a work of literature. "The Golden Kite, the
Silver Wind" is a modern fable, a type of fiction that usually has a message. One way
to discover the theme of a work is to think about what happens to the central characters.
The importance of these events, stated in terms that apply to all human beings, is the
theme.
ACTIVE READING CONNECT WITH OTHER STORIES
Active readers seek to connect the themes in the work they are reading with others they
have already read. This enriches their reading and helps them to better understand the
message in what they are reading. Think of Dorothy West's modern fable "The Richer,
the Poorer" (page 316). What theme or themes does it have in common with "The
Golden Kite, the Silver Wind"?
READER'S, NOTEBOOK As you read, jot down similarities that you find between "The
Golden Kite, the Silver Wind" and "The Richer, the Poorer' Similarities between works
can often give you clues to the characters and the themes.
492
The Golden Kite, the Silver Wind
by RAY BRADBURY
"In the shape of a pig?" cried the Mandarin.
"In the shape of a pig," said the messenger, and departed.
"Oh, what an evil day in an evil year," cried the Mandarin. "The town of Kwan-Si, beyond
the hill, was very small in my childhood. Now it has grown so large that at last they are
building a wall."
"But why should a wall two miles away make my good father sad and angry all within the
hour?" asked his daughter quietly.
"They build their wall," said the Mandarin, "in the
493
shape of a pig! Do you see? Our own city wall is built in the shape of an orange. That
pig will devour us, greedily!"
"Ah."
They both sat thinking.
Life was full of symbols and omens. Demons lurked everywhere, Death swam in the
wetness of an eye, the turn of a gull's wing meant rain, a fan held so, the tilt of a roof,
and, yes, even a city wall was of immense importance. Travelers and tourists, caravans,
musicians, artists, coming upon these two towns, equally judging the portents, would
say, "The city shaped like an orange? No! I will enter the city shaped like a pig and
prosper, eating all, growing fat with good luck and prosperity!"
The Mandarin wept. "All is lost! These symbols and signs terrify. Our city will come on evil
days."
"Then," said the daughter, "call in your stonemasons and temple builders. I will whisper
from behind the silken screen and you will know the words."
The old man clapped his hands despairingly. "Ho, stonemasons! Ho, builders of towns and
palaces!"
The men who knew marble and granite and onyx and quartz came quickly. The Mandarin
faced them most uneasily, himself waiting for a whisper from the silken screen behind
his throne. At last the whisper came.
"I have called you here," said the whisper.
"I have called you here," said the Mandarin aloud, "because our city is shaped like an
orange, and the vile city of Kwan-Si has this day shaped theirs like a ravenous pig—"
Here the stonemasons groaned and wept. Death rattled his cane in the outer courtyard.
Poverty made a sound like a wet cough in the shadows of the room.
"And so," said the whisper, said the Mandarin, "you raisers of walls must go bearing trowels
and rocks and change the shape of our city!"
The architects and masons gasped. The Mandarin himself gasped at what he had said. The
whisper whispered. The Mandarin went on: "And you will change our walls into a club
which may beat the pig and drive it off!"
The stonemasons rose up, shouting. Even the Mandarin, delighted at the words from his
mouth, applauded, stood down from his throne. "Quick!" he cried. "To work!"
When his men had gone, smiling and bustling, the Mandarin turned with great love to the
silken screen. "Daughter," he whispered, "I will embrace you." There was no reply. He
stepped around the screen, and she was gone.
Such modesty, he thought. She has slipped away and left me with a triumph, as if it were
mine.
The news spread through the city; the Mandarin was acclaimed. Everyone carried stone to
the walls. Fireworks were set off and the demons of death and poverty did not linger, as
all worked together. At the end of the month the wall had been changed. It was now a
mighty bludgeon with which to drive pigs, boars, even lions, far away. The Mandarin
slept like a happy fox every night.
"I would like to see the Mandarin of Kwan-Si when the news is learned. Such pandemonium
and hysteria; he will likely throw himself from a mountain! A little more of that wine,
oh Daughter-who-thinks-like-a-son."
WORDS TO KNOW
ravenous (răv'ə-nəs) adj. extremely hungry; greedy
acclaimed (ə-klāmd') adj. welcomed publicly with praise acclaim v.
pandemonium (păn'də-mō'nē-am) n. a noisy upset; a wild uproar
495
But the pleasure was like a winter flower; it died swiftly. That very afternoon the messenger
rushed into the courtroom. "Oh, Mandarin, disease, early sorrow, avalanches,
grasshopper plagues, and poisoned well water!"
The Mandarin trembled.
"The town of Kwan-Si," said the messenger, "which was built like a pig and which animal
we drove away by changing our walls to a mighty stick, has now turned triumph to
winter ashes. They have built their city's walls like a great bonfire to burn our stick!"
The Mandarin's heart sickened within him, like an autumn fruit upon an ancient tree. "Oh,
gods! Travelers will spurn us.
Tradesmen, reading the symbols, will turn from the stick, so easily destroyed, to the fire,
which conquers all!"
"No," said a whisper like a snowflake from behind the silken screen.
"No," said the startled Mandarin.
"Tell my stonemasons," said the whisper that was a falling drop of rain, "to build our walls
in the shape of a shining lake."
The Mandarin said this aloud, his heart warmed.
"And with this lake of water," said the whisper and the old man, "we will quench the fire
and put it out forever!"
The city turned out in joy to learn that once again they had been saved by the magnificent
Emperor of ideas. They ran to the walls and built them nearer to this new vision,
singing, not as loudly as before, of course, for they were tired, and not as quickly, for
since it had taken a month to build the wall the first time, they had had to neglect
business and crops and therefore were somewhat weaker and poorer.
There then followed a succession of horrible and wonderful days, one in another like a nest
of frightening boxes.
"Oh, Emperor," cried the messenger, "Kwan-Si has rebuilt their walls to resemble a mouth
with which to drink all our lake!"
"Then," said the Emperor, standing very close to his silken screen, "build our walls like a
needle to sew up that mouth!"
"Emperor!" screamed the messenger. "They make their walls like a sword to break your
needle!"
The Emperor held, trembling, to the silken screen. "Then shift the stones to form a scabbard
to sheathe that sword!"
"Mercy," wept the messenger the following morn, "they have worked all night and shaped
the walls like lightning which will explode and destroy that sheath!"
Sickness spread in the city like a pack of evil dogs. Shops closed. The population, working
now steadily for endless months upon the changing of the walls, resembled Death
himself, clattering his white bones like musical instruments in the wind. Funerals began
to appear in the streets, though it was the middle of summer, a time when all should be
tending and harvesting. The Mandarin fell so ill
that he had his bed drawn up by the silken screen and there he lay, miserably giving his
architectural orders. The voice behind the screen was weak now, too, and faint, like the
wind in the eaves.
"Kwan-Si is an eagle. Then our walls must be a net for that eagle. They are a sun to burn our
net. Then we build a moon to eclipse their sun!"
Like a rusted machine, the city ground to a halt.
WORDS TO KNOW
spurn (spûrn) v. to reject or turn down scornfully
quench (kwĕnch) v. to put out; to extinguish
496
AUthor Study: May Bradbury
At last the whisper behind the screen cried out:
"In the name of the gods, send for Kwan-Si!"
Upon the last day of summer the Mandarin Kwan-Si, very ill and withered away, was
carried into our Mandarin's courtroom by four starving footmen. The two mandarins
were propped up, facing each other. Their breaths fluttered like winter winds in their
mouths.
A voice said:
"Let us put an end to this."
The old men nodded.
"This cannot go on," said the faint voice. "Our people do nothing hut rebuild our cities to a
different shape every day, every hour. They have no time to hunt, to fish, to love, to be
good to their ancestors and their ancestors' children."
"This I admit," said the mandarins of the towns of the Cage, the Moon, the Spear, the Fire,
the Sword and this, that, and other things.
"Carry us into the sunlight," said the voice.
The old men were borne out under the sun and up a little hill. In the late summer breeze a
few very thin children were flying dragon kites in all the colors of the sun, and frogs
and grass, the color of the sea and the color of coins and wheat.
The first Mandarin's daughter stood by his bed.
"See," she said.
"Those are nothing but kites," said the two old men.
"But what is a kite on the ground?" she said. "It is nothing. What does it need to sustain it
and make it beautiful and truly spiritual?"
"The wind, of course!" said the others.
"And what do the sky and the wind need to make them beautiful?"
"A kite, of course—many kites, to break the monotony, the sameness of the sky. Colored
kites, flying!"
"So," said the Mandarin's daughter. "You, Kwan-Si, will make a last rebuilding of your
town to resemble nothing more nor less than the wind. And we shall build like a golden
kite. The wind will beautify the kite and carry it to wondrous heights. And the kite will
break the sameness of the wind's existence and give it purpose and meaning. One
without the other is nothing. Together, all will be beauty and cooperation and a long
and enduring life."
Whereupon the two mandarins were so overjoyed that they took their first nourishment in
days, momentarily were given strength, embraced, and lavished praise upon each other,
called the Mandarin's daughter a boy, a man, a stone pillar, a warrior, and a true and
unforgettable son. Almost immediately they parted and hurried to their towns, calling
out and singing, weakly but happily.
And so, in time, the towns became the Town of the Golden Kite and the Town of the Silver
Wind. And harvestings were harvested and business tended again, and the flesh
returned, and disease ran off like a frightened jackal. And on every night of the year the
inhabitants in the Town of the Kite could hear the good clear wind sustaining them.
And those in the Town of the Wind could hear the kite singing, whispering, rising, and
beautifying them.
"So be it," said the Mandarin in front of his silken screen.
497
THINKING through the LITERATURE
Connect to the Literature
1. What Do You Think? What was your impression of the solution to the two towns'
rivalry? Explain.
Comprehension Check
Why are both towns surrounded by walls?
Why do the two towns keep rebuilding these walls?
How was the towns' rivalry resolved?
Think Critically
2. Why do you think the Mandarin was willing to listen to his daughter's advice?
Think About:
her first question to her father about his anger
the consequences of her advice
the compliments of the two mandarins after she solved their problem
3. The characters in this story are described only as the Mandarin, the daughter, the
messenger, and so forth. Why do you think none of the characters has a name?
4. Do you think that this story portrays an accurate picture of human behavior? Explain your
response.
5. What theme, or lesson about human nature, do you think the author is trying to get across
in this tale?
6. ACTIVE READING CONNECT WITH OTHER STORIES
Look back at the notes you made in your READER'S NOTEBOOK. What thematic
connections did you make between "The Golden Kite, the Silver Wind" and "The
Richer, the Poorer"? Share your ideas with your classmates.
Extend Interpretations
7. What If? What if the two towns had not been able to resolve their rivalry? What might
have happened?
8. Connect to Life The Mandarin's daughter is praised as "a boy, a man, a stone pillar, a
warrior, and a true and unforgettable son." What do you think is meant by this? How
would you describe the daughter?
Literary Analysis
THEME A fable is a brief story that teaches a lesson about human nature. The lesson, or
moral, of the fable appears in a statement at the end. Modern fables seldom have stated
morals. Instead, they have a theme, or message about life or human nature, that the
reader must infer. To determine the theme of a work you read, look at the events that
happen to the main characters. Restate the significance of these events in terms that
apply to all human beings. That is the theme.
Paired Activity With a partner, look at the main events of "The Golden Kite, the Silver
Wind." What is their significance to the main characters of the selection? Using your
own words, restate this message in more general terms. Share your statement of the
theme with other pairs.
REVIEW:EVENT An event in a story is an occurrence that is necessary to the plot. You
can tell whether or not something is an event by asking, "How would the plot change
without this event?" If the plot would not change significantly, it is not considered an
event. For example, in "The Golden Kite, the Silver Wind," if the town of Kwan-Si had
not built a wall, the rest of the story could not be told in the same way.
498
CHOICES and CHALLENGES
Grammar in Context: Essential and Nonessential Modifiers
In "The Golden Kite, the Silver Wind," Bradbury uses two kinds of modifiers to add
important information to his sentences.
Travelers ... would say, "The city shaped like an orange? No! I will enter the city shaped like a pig and
prosper!
An essential modifier is one that is necessary to the meaning of a sentence. In the excerpt
above, "shaped like an orange" and "shaped like a pig" are essential for identifying
which city is referred to. The sentences would not be clear without these modifiers.
"The town of Kwan-Si, beyond the hill, was very small in my childhood...
A nonessential modifier is one that adds more information to a sentence that is already
clear without the addition. In the sentence above it is clear which town is referred to
without the extra information "beyond the hill:'
Punctuation Tip: A nonessential modifier is set off from the rest of the sentence with
commas.
WRITING EXERCISE Rewrite each sentence, adding an essential or nonessential
modifier to provide more information about the underlined noun or pronoun.
Example: Original The Mandarin feared that the city would devour the city with walls
shaped like an orange.
Rewritten The Mandarin feared that the city with walls shaped like a pig would devour the
city with walls shaped like an orange.
1. The town of Kwan-Si now had a wall.
2. A voice from behind the screen whispered advice.
3. The Mandarin thought his walls would extinguish the walls built like a fire.
4. The two mandarins decided to stop competing.
Vocabulary
STANDARDIZED TEST PRACTICE
Choose the word or group of words that means the same, or nearly the same, as the
underlined Word to Know.
1. Acclaimed is another word for—
A humbled
B mocked
C praised
D ignored
2. To quench something is to—
F guide it
G protect it
H examine it
J extinguish it
3. Pandemonium refers to an—
A animal
B uproar
C adventure
D athlete
4. To spurn something is to—
F reject it
G release it
H embrace it
I enlarge it
5. Ravenous means—
A generous
B hungry
C sleepy
D dangerous
EXERCISE: WORD MEANING For each phrase in the first column, write the letter of
the phrase in the second that matches its meaning.
1. hungry streets
2. acclaimed jester
3. great pandemonium
4. refuse a chance
5. get rid of an odor
a. renowned clown
b. spurn a turn
c. quench a stench
d. ravenous avenues e. colossal chaos
Vocabulary Handbook See p. R24: Context Clues.
499
AN INTERVIEW WITH
RAY BRADBURY
Focus Your Reading
LITERARY ANALYSIS INTERVIEW
An interview is a source of firsthand information about the subject of the interview.
Interviews, like letters, stories, essays, poems, and speeches by a writer, are known as
primary sources.
Q: YOU DON'T CONSIDER YOURSELF A SCIENCE FICTION WRITER, EVEN THOUGH
OTHERS CALL YOU THAT. HOW DO YOU SEE YOURSELF?
A: I am a collector of metaphors. Any idea that strikes me I run with. I've published in the
last seven years two murder mysteries, Death Is a Lonely Business and Graveyard for a
Lunatic. I have published two books of essays, Zen and the Art of Writing, which I like
to think is one of the better books on writing, then Yestermorrow, on how to cure
current problems and make our society work.
I wrote The October Country, which is weird fantasy. There is no science fiction there. And
Halloween Tree, which is a history of Halloween. And Dandelion Wine, which is my
childhood in Illinois. Something Wicked This Way Comes, which is also my childhood
plus fantasy. So when you look at the spread of things, there is only one novel that is
science fiction. And that's Fahrenheit 451. In other words, science fiction is the art of
the possible, not the art of the impossible. As soon as you deal with things that can't
happen you are writing fantasy.
Q: I KNOW YOU NEVER HAVE TROUBLE COMING UP WITH IDEAS. WALK ME
THROUGH YOUR DAILY INSPIRATION AND WRITING PROCESS.
A: I just wake up with ideas every morning from my subconscious percolating. At 7 in the
morning I lie in bed and I watch all the fragments of ideas swarming around in
500
my head and these voices talk to me. And when they get to a certain point, I jump out of
bed and run to the typewriter. So I'm not in control. Two hours later I have a new short
story or an essay or part of a play.
Q: WHEN YOU'VE FINISHED TYPING YOUR SHORT STORIES, DO YOU REVISE?
A: No. Never. A few words, but that's not revision. That's just cleaning up.
Q: WHAT ARE YOU PASSIONATE ABOUT?
A: Everything. If you're in love, you're in love.
Q: YOU SAID ONCE THAT "THE GREAT THING ABOUT MY LIFE IS THAT
EVERYTHING I'VE DONE IS A RESULT OF WHAT I WAS WHEN I WAS 12 OR 13."
WHAT DOES THAT MEAN TO YOU?
A: Or even younger, when I was 3, when
I was 5, when I was 9. All the things that I loved have been part of my writing. The
Hunchback of Notre Dame when I was 3 years old; The Phantom of the Opera with Lon
Chaney when I was 5 in 1925.... When I was 9, I collected all the Buck Rogers comic
strips. Edgar Rice Burroughs, the "Tarzan" books, Warlord of Mars, I memorized those
books. The "Oz" books when I was 9, 10, 11.... King Kong in 1933 when I was 13, H.
G. Wells, Jules Verne. All those things. My childhood was packed with metaphors. Plus
the Bible. Plus the hundreds of other films during that time. [In 1934, the family moved
to Los Angeles.]
I was a real freak. I hung around the studios when I was 14 so I could see famous people. I
intruded on the life of George Burns when he and Gracie Allen were doing their radio
show.
I wrote scripts for the show every week and gave them to George. They used one routine.
I did radio acting. I read the comic strips to the kiddies when I was 12 years old. Out of all
those images and metaphors, I became a good screenwriter, because a good
screenwriter is making storyboards like comic strips. So I am a natural outgrowth of the
impact of all these wonderful art forms.
Q: WHAT KIND OF ADVICE WOULD YOU GIVE BEGINNING WRITERS?
A: Explode. Don't intellectualize. Get passionate about ideas. Cram your head full of
images. Stay in the library. Stay off the Internet. Read all the great books. Read all the
great poetry. See all the great films. Fill your life with metaphors. And then explode.
And you're bound to do something good.
THINKING through the LITERATURE
1. What impression do you have of Ray Bradbury from this interview?
2. Were you surprised at Bradbury's method of writing? Explain.
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The Author's Style
Ray Bradbury's Poetic Prose
The use of striking images, loosely structured sentences, and long passages of dialogue are
important elements of Ray Bradbury's style.
Key Style Points
Dialogue Bradbury often uses dialogue rather than descriptive or explanatory passages to
get across his points. What important idea is revealed in the passage to the right?
Imagery Images help readers imagine how things look, feel, sound, smell, and taste. What
images does Bradbury use here to create an impression of Mr. Bittering's helplessness
and sense of an important change about to happen?
Loosely Structured Sentences Bradbury's prose is characterized by loosely structured
poetic sentences connected by coordinating conjunctions. What coordinating
conjunction is repeated in the bottom passage at the right?
Dialogue
"Sam," Bittering said. "Your eyes—"
"What about them, Harry?"
"Didn't they used to be gray?"
"Well now, I don't remember."
"They were, weren't they?"
"Why do you ask, Harry?"
"Because now they're kind of yellow-colored."
"Is that so, Harry?" Sam said, casually....
"Harry, what color eyes have you got?" Sam said.
"My eyes? They're blue, of course."
"Here you are, Harry," Sam handed him a pocket mirror. "Take a look at yourself."
—"Dark They Were, and Golden-Eyed"
Imagery
The wind blew as if to flake away their identities. At any moment the Martian air might draw [Mr.
Bittering's] soul from him, as marrow comes from a white bone. He felt submerged in a chemical
that could dissolve his intellect and burn away his past.
—"Dark They Were, and Golden-Eyed"
Loosely Structured Sentences
And so, in time, the towns became the Town of the Golden Kite and the Town of the Silver Wind. And
harvestings were harvested and business tended again, and the flesh returned, and disease ran off
like a frightened jackal. And on every night of the year the inhabitants in the Town of the Kite
could hear the good clear wind sustaining them. And those in the Town of the Wind could hear the
kite singing, whispering, rising, and beautifying them.
—"The Golden Kite, the Silver Wind"
Applications
1. Active Reading Working with a small group, look back at the stories and find examples
of passages or dialogue that reveal important points of style. Compare your examples
with those of other groups.
2. Writing Think of an event that has impressed you. Using elements of Bradbury's style,
write a description of the event.
3. Speaking and Listening With a partner, discuss imagery in one of the selections. Choose
a particularly strong passage and write a paragraph about the images that the passage
creates in your mind. Point out details that help you imagine how things look, feel,
sound, smell, or taste. Read the paragraph to your partner.
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Writing
Time Capsule Imagine that you are the last person to leave Earth for Mars. What items
would you leave in a time capsule for future scientists and scholars to discover? Make a
list. What would the items tell the discoverers about you? Give specific reasons and
examples for your choices. Compare your list with that of a classmate.
Speaking & Listening
Film Review View "The Long Years," an episode from The Ray Bradbury Theater. Then
discuss with classmates similarities and differences between the film's presentation of
Mars and the way you visualized it while reading "Dark They Were, and Golden-Eyed"
Research & Technology
To Mars! Use nonfiction books, the Internet, and other sources to gather information about
travel to Mars. Include in your report:
the distance between Mars and Earth
the average time a spaceship would take to reach Mars
the problems of sustaining life on Mars
the research about Mars that is currently being conducted by NASA or other agencies
Compare your findings with a small group of classmates. Research and Technology
Handbook See p. R110: Getting Information Electronically.
Author Study Project
Summary of Literature
Working with a partner, choose one of the two short stories from the Bradbury Author
Study. Summarize the work in writing, and then present your summary to the class.
1 Identify the theme of the story, as well as examples and significant details that support the
theme (see page 413).
2 Summarize the story in your own words, using quotations when helpful.
3 Your summary should reflect the deeper meaning of the story, not just the sequence of
events.
4 Present your summary to the class.
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Other Works by RAY
BRADBURY
Ray Bradbury is commonly given credit for bringing respectability to science fiction and
making it a legitimate form of literature. He calls himself a "lover of the whole
experience of life" and his sense of expectancy and joy shows in his writing. His stories
celebrate the human imagination while exploring serious issues such as racism,
censorship, and the impact of technology on morality and values.
The Martian Chronicles 1950
This book tells the story of the first attempts of Earth men and women to colonize Mars
during the years 1999-2026 and their encounters with telepathic Martians.
Fahrenheit 451 1953
Awarded the Prometheus Hall of Fame Award for Best Classic Libertarian Science Fiction
Novel, 1984 This novel is set in a future in which the written word is forbidden.
Firemen do not put out fires. Rather, they are in charge of burning books. Individuals in
a group of rebels memorize entire works of literature and philosophy in order to
preserve civilization.
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Something Wicked This Way Comes 1962
This novel tells the tale of two boys who discover the terrifying mystery behind the carnival
that arrives in town during the dark of night.
A Medicine for Melancholy 1960
This fine collection of Bradbury stories contains works of science fiction, fantasy, and
realism. Along with "Dark They Were, and Golden-Eyed," it contains favorites such as
"All Summer in a Day," "The Pedestrian," and "The Day It Rained Forever."
The Vintage Bradbury 1965
Bradbury's own selection of his best stories, this collection contains "The Veldt" and "The
Fog Horn," as well as excerpts from The Martian Chronicles and Dandelion Wine.
The Toynbee Convector 1988
Awarded the Bram Stoker Award for Superior Achievement in a Fiction Collection
This book, set in the year 2084, tells the story of Craig Bennett Stiles. He is the inventor of
the Toynbee Convector, a time machine he last used one hundred years ago in 1984.
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Writing Workshop Short Story
Developing a plot . . .
From Reading to Writing Have you ever held your breath in suspense as you read a story?
A good suspenseful plot keeps you wondering but also gives enough clues about what
might happen.
For instance, in "The Serial Garden" you may have noticed clues that foreshadowed the fact
that Mark's mother would clean the playroom and throw away the magic garden.
Writing a suspenseful short story will help you learn how to keep your readers
guessing.
For Your Portfolio
WRITING PROMPT Write a short story with a suspenseful plot.
Purpose: To entertain
Audience: Your classmates, family, or general readers
Basics in a Box
Short Story at a Glance
Introduction
Sets the stage by
introducing the characters
describing the setting
Body
Develops the plot by
introducing the conflict
telling a sequence of events
developing characters through words and actions
building toward a climax
Conclusion
Finishes the story by
possibly resolving the conflict
telling the last event
RUBRIC STANDARDS FOR WRITING
A successful short story should
have a strong beginning and ending
use the elements of character, setting, and plot to create a convincing world
use techniques such as vivid sensory language, concrete details, and dialogue to create
believable characters and setting
have a main conflict, which may or may not be resolved
present a clear sequence of events
maintain a consistent point of view
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Analyzing a Student Model
Rachel Leah Granzow Campbell Junior High
Plan Bee
1 The writer begins the narration with specific details about the setting.
2 Includes movements and gestures of the main character
3 The conflict captures readers' attention.
In the year 3021, Kali trudged down the purple sidewalk on her home planet, Yein. She
wiped her tear-stained cheeks and gripped the letter in her shaking hands. What's wrong
with me? she thought. Is it the way I look? my clothes? my personality? She yanked a
mirror out of her bag and stared at her reflection. Purple hair, military apparel, grunge
boots.... She looked like all the other girls on the planet. Then why did her best friend
Jareka send a letter stating that their lifelong friendship was over? Kali shoved the
mirror back into her bag and read the letter again. "I don't want you to take this the
wrong way, but we can't be friends any longer. I'm practically dying when I write
this..." Kali read that last sentence over again. Practically dying? That didn't make
sense. Kali paused a minute and stared off into the distance. From out of nowhere, a
group of gray figures surrounded her. "Lanx," she whispered, before a strong blow to
the head knocked her out.
"Ow. Oh, nikum." Kali's eyes fluttered open. She found herself in a dark room surrounded
by Lanx, the alien species that threatened to take over Yein.
"So, you've awakened." the Lanx said. The smooth, deep voice sent chills up Kali's spine.
"You have been brought here to supply us with information we need. You will
cooperate. After all, you don't want to end up like your friend over there." It gestured to
a bench in the corner of the room. There lay Jareka.
"Why am I here?" Kali stared defiantly at the metal links on their jackets.
4 The central conflict is introduced.
"I have not gone to all this trouble to play games. Jareka was the leader of the CDR-99 spy
mission. She stole our map with the location of our most powerful missile. We want it
back. You are her best friend, so you know where it is. Now, we have a virtual reality
recording of a message to you from Jareka."
5 Gives concrete technological details
The Lanx flipped a switch, and a 3D image of Jareka appeared.
"Kali, if you hear this, tell them about the buzz, and Plan Bee. The image faded. Kali
understood. Jareka had used their special code. It reminded her of the difference
between them.
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6 Third-person point of view allows the writer to reveal thoughts and feelings of the main
character as well as the actions and words of other minor characters.
Another Option:
Use first-person point of view to narrate the action from the main character's perspective.
Jareka had alien blood, not Lanx but another species called Drone. She was able to turn into
a deadly bee in an emergency situation. But the transformation could only take place in
the presence of another person who knew the code word "Buzz." Kali was that person.
If she could recite the words by Jareka's side, the transformation could take place.
However, first she had to make up a story to distract the Lanx.
7 Dialogue fits the characters and advances the rising action.
Kali cleared her throat and began. "Well, since I have no choice, I'll confess."
The creatures smiled.
"What Jareka meant by 'buzz' was the code word to the secret place where your map is
hidden. The Yein government headquarters are disguised as bee farms on the far east
side of the planet. If you have the code word, they'll let you in."
The leader smiled. "We'll see if you're lying. We'll be back soon. Then you'll be terminated."
The Lanx marched out and locked the door behind them.
Kali carefully picked up Jareka's hand and recited the code, "Yuma Kachine Leotie Xanthus
Lomasi Cadell Tallulah Niabi Sibyl!"
Slowly, Jareka's chest began to rise and fall. Her eyes flew open. She looked at Kali and
smiled quickly. Jareka's human features disappeared as she shrank, turning into a bee.
She would remain this way until Kali uttered the code again.
8 Events are ordered chronologically. Transitions make order of events clear.
The hours of the night passed slowly. Shortly after daybreak, Kali heard heavy footsteps
rushing towards the door. The Lanx burst in, armed with lasers. Unseen, Jareka flew
over their heads as they blocked Kali's escape. Suddenly, one Lanx warrior fell.
Another thudded to the ground.
9 Uses figurative language to bring the scene to life
The rest toppled like dominoes. Soon every Lanx lay on the floor. Kali saw Jareka
hovering near her. She recited the code backwards. "Sibyl Niabi Tallulah Cadell Lomasi
Xanthus Leotie Kachine Yuma!" Jareka rested on the ground and quickly resumed her
human shape. Kali and Jareka smiled at each other in relief.
10 The climax is reached and the central conflict is resolved.
Another Option:
Don't resolve the conflict; instead let readers imagine how it might be resolved.
11 The conclusion ties up loose ends of the plot and settles the initial conflict of the story.
There would now be peace on Yein, at least for the time being. Kali felt at peace, too. She
knew that Jareka had tried to end their friendship to protect her. She also knew that true
friendship could conquer all.
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Writing Your Short Story
1 Prewriting
Imagination is the highest kite one can fly.
—Lauren Bacall, actress
To find an idea for your short story, list possible settings, characters, and plots. Write down
mysterious settings in your neighborhood, like abandoned warehouses or houses with
creaking shutters and ivy over the windows. Skim newspapers for bizarre incidents or
unexplained events. See the Idea Bank in the margin for more suggestions. After you
have an idea for your short story, follow the steps below.
Have a question?
See the Writing Handbook Descriptive Writing, p. R43
See Language Network Prewriting, p.312 Drama, p.315
Planning Your Short Story
1. Consider the elements of character, setting, and point of view. Who will be your
major character? What does he or she look like? Who else is in the story? Where and
when will your story take place? Who will tell your story? Bring your characters to life
by making them complex personalities.
2. Develop the plot. What is your central conflict? Try to imagine how your main character
will read to the conflict. What events might his or her reaction lead to? How do you
want the conflict to be resolved?
3. Share ideas with other writers. In a small group, take turns outlining your story line and
describing your characters. Take note of suggestions or reactions to your plot or
characters. Ask group members to take the part of your major character and speak as
they imagine the character would.
2 Drafting
Set aside a block of time to write your first draft. Try to get all the ideas that are floating in
your mind down on paper. You will polish your draft later.
Write dialogue that sounds natural and moves the story along.
Include foreshadowing, or hints of what is to happen, which will increase suspense and
keep your readers interested.
Give your readers concrete and descriptive details so that the characters, setting, and
action seem real.
Ask Your Peer Reader
Where can I add details to make the characters and events more real?
Did the structure of the story make sense?
Did the ending seem realistic and satisfying?
IDEA Bank
1. For Your Working Portfolio
Look for ideas in the Writing sections you completed earlier.
2. Center Stage
Choose three ordinary places that might make interesting story settings, such as a baseball field, a
classroom, or a busy supermarket. Imagine what stories could take place in each setting.
3. Strange Matters
Focus on a small but puzzling incident such as answering the phone and finding no one there or
driving into a town that seems completely empty. Brainstorm a list of such incidents with a
partner.
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3 Revising
TARGET SKILL USING CONCRETE DETAILS A concrete detail gives a precise and
specific image that appeals to the senses. For example, instead of saying that the
flowers in a garden were beautiful, which can mean different things to different people,
Joan Aiken provides concrete details about the flowers: "There were huge velvety
violets and pansies the size of saucers; the hollyhocks were as big as dinner plates, and
the turf was sprinkled with enormous daisies." Choose precise and specific words to
involve your readers.
Shortly after daybreak, Kali heard them return footsteps rushing toward the door
4 Editing and Proofreading
TARGET SKILL PARALLELISM One way to avoid awkwardness in your sentences is
to make sure they are written in parallel structure. For instance, if you have a compound
verb, where appropriate, make sure all of the verbs are in the same tense and form. For
example, the verbs in this sentence are not parallel: Mark sang and was dancing in the
garden. Instead you should write, Mark sang and danced in the garden.
The Lanx marched out and were locking locked the door securely behind them.
5 Reflecting
FOR YOUR WORKING PORTFOLIO What part of writing the story did you most
enjoy? What have you learned about writing a short story? What ideas would you like
to remember for your next story? Attach these reflections to your finished story. Save
your short story in your Working Portfolio.
Need revising help?
Review the Rubric, p. 506.
Consider peer reader comments.
Check Revising, Editing, and Proofreading, p. R35.
SPELLING From Writing
As you revise your work, look back at the words you misspelled and determine why you made the
errors you did. For additional help, refer to the strategies and generalizations in the Spelling
Handbook on page R30.
SPEAKING Opportunity
Turn your narrative into an oral presentation.
Publishing IDEAS
Record your short story on audiotape. Enlist classmates to take the parts of different characters.
Plan and create sound effects to go along with the reading.
Adapt your story for a younger audience. Read it aloud to a group of younger students.
510
Standardized Test Practice
Mixed Review
(1) Kali pushed slowly the door open. (2) She had not never seen such thick
cobwebs as those that formed a gauzy curtain in front of her face. (3) She
brushed they aside and stepped into the dark attic. She turned on the light and immediately
(4) was seeing the object they're on the windowsill.
A crash from the stairs warned her of danger. (5) She decided to leave go of
the bottle and lie it on the nearest piece of (6) furniture so she would not
be caught with it.
1. How is sentence 1 best written?
A. Kali pushed slowly the open door.
B. Kali pushed the slowly door open.
C. Slowly, Kali pushed the door open.
D. Correct as is
2. How is sentence 2 best written?
A. She hadn't never seen such thick cobwebs
B. She didn't never see such thick cobwebs
C. She had never seen such thick cobwebs
D. Correct as is
3. What is the correct pronoun usage in sentence 3?
A. She brushed them aside
B. She brushed it aside
C. She brushed their aside
D. Correct as is
4. What is the correct verb tense in item 4?
A. saw
B. sight
C. will see
D. Correct as is
5. What is the correct spelling in item 5?
A. their
B. there
C. thier
D. Correct as is
6. How is sentence 6 best written?
A. She decided to let go of the bottle and lay it
B. She decided to leave go of the bottle lie it
C. She decided to let go of the bottle and lie it
D. Correct as is
Review Your Skills
Use the passage and the questions that follow it to check how well you remember the language
conventions you've learned in previous grades.
Self-Assessment
Check your own answers in the Grammar Handbook
Quick Reference: Pronoun Forms, p. R77
Quick Reference: Double Negatives, p. R83 Using Verbs Correctly, p. R81
Parallelism, p. R91
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