MILESTONES
2010
Volume 6
A Journal of Academic Writing
Pulaski Technical College
Milestones
Volume 6
2010
Milestones is a publication of:
Pulaski Technical College
3000 West Scenic Drive
North Little Rock, Arkansas 72118
501-812-2200
www.pulaskitech.edu
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Sandy Longhorn
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Amy Green
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Davis and the staff of the Pulaski Technical College Libraries; members of the Pulaski
Technical College Library Committee; the staff of the Pulaski Technical College Physical Plant; Tim Jones; Amy Green; Tracy Courage; Lennon Parker; and the faculty, staff,
and students who have continued to show interest and enthusiasm in this publication.
©2011 Pulaski Technical College
Works appearing in Milestones are printed with the permission of the authors. Copyright
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College or those of any of the college personnel or people responsible for publishing this
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Please note: The language and content contained in this journal may not be suitable for
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MILESTONES
2010
Volume 6
TA B L E O F C O N T E N T S
Life Long Friends:
5th Annual National Library Week Essay Contest Winner
Judith Spradling
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Langston Hughes: A Great Writer with an Ordinary Flair
J. Renee’ Baker
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Population of Loss
James Dunlap
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Symbolism, Violence, and Language in Sylvia Plath’s Poetry
Stefani Chaney
16
Poe’s Insanity: Character or Truth?
Roxanne Nichole Litchholt
21
What Barbie Dolls are Made Of
Lauren Morgan
25
Dante’s Inferno and the Nature of Sin
Bryan G. Tribble
29
Looking Down the Tracks
Penny Davis Riggs
32
Turn that Noise Down
Kathy Jacuzzi Fluharty
40
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4
5th Annual National Library Week Essay Contest Winner
JUDITH SPRADLING
Life Long Friends
I have carried with me the wisdom of friends, perused their adventures, and
waited patiently through long narrations. There have been tears both celebratory and
grief-stricken, past and present, amidst companions, confidants, and accomplices, waiting quietly in the background or noisily interjected. Disguised and often overlooked, I
have carried the quiet murmur of their words reoccurring in odd places, dark corners,
worn and battered with age or bright and newly acquired. They are quiet friends, new
and old friends, comfortable like old shoes, the ones you slide into knowing the feel and
fit. These friends sustain on cold nights and long trips, imprinting themselves with
laughter or tears, making them part of your life, part of who you are and will become.
They are always just around the corner, down the road, or concealed on the next page.
I carry them with me, thankful for the small town where we met and the elderly woman
who introduced us.
In my mind, the elderly matron nicknamed “The Keeper” had always been the
librarian, as steadfast and reliable as the oak floors, windows, and doors of our small
town library. She would arrive punctually, unlocking the door at exactly the precise
hour, and, watching from the deserted gas station, I would cross the two-lane highway
where I always waited, casually making my way to line up along with the others,
cautiously inching along in a regimental, single file fashion to the large oak desk.
Jacketed covers up, the children’s books placed precisely on the right hand corner of the
desk in the designated square, the books underwent a thorough inspection.
Occasionally there was a fine for damages or loss, but the usual order of business was the
oral book report required as to our perception of the reading material. There would be
shifting and squirming as The Keeper’s sharp eyes ferreted out those who had only
managed half a book or relied on the illustrations. Still I arrived along with neighborhood
children, a younger sibling in tow, waiting for The Keeper’s timely appearance, enduring the literary inquisition in a ritualistic manner: a clandestine meeting, Monday after
Monday and occasionally on Wednesday or Saturday. I placed my returns on the large
oak desk, waiting, standing tall in anticipation of the inquisition. “Could you please
wait … over there … until I am finished?” she asked and directed as I placed my books
into the outlined square. Perplexed by The Keeper’s request, I nervously shuffled to
the window behind the gigantic desk as directed and waited. Released without inquisition and directed to the rear, the remaining children eyed me with suspicion, my own
sister turning her back, deserting me for the lure of brightly illustrated storybooks.
Somewhere a fan whirred softly, children giggled, and the slap, scrape, slap rhythmic
cadence of cards sliding into the jackets of new literary selections registered as white
noise against my imagined transgression.
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Her immediate tasks complete, The Keeper turned, measuring my worth
against an invisible standard. “Did you finish all of these?” she probed, indicating my
stack of returns. “Yes, ma’am,” I replied, my voice small. “I’ve read them before.”
“I am well aware of the books you have read and exactly how many times you
have read them,” she announced stiffly adjusting her glasses. “I suppose allowances
could be made. Rules are, after all, merely guidelines.”
The Keeper rose from her chair as Athena rising in judgment, iron-gray hair,
reflecting under the glare of the naked florescent bulbs. “Follow me please.” Her voice
commanded obedience as she motioned me forward, the drum of our feet loud on the
oak floor. I followed, head down, expecting expulsion, noting our shadows as we moved
beyond the hum of children engaged among their books, my mind creating images of
my body flung violently through the open door to the hot sidewalk in violation of some
unknown rule.
“I suggest you select your books from this section, beginning with these,” the
Keeper stated, stopping to indicate the rows of books referred to as “The Tombs.” She
pulled from the shelves two or three volumes, holding them before me while I stared
mesmerized by the red letters of the sign prominently displayed overhead – “This section
not intended for children.” Somehow, I had arrived, vaulting over the boredom of repetitive juvenile purgatory to the adult mecca of unknown wealth. My adolescent sense of
drama was engaged as The Keeper placed the selected volumes into my hands, instilling in me a sense of awe. I touched the jacketed books, stroking their bindings, respectful of the pages, the authors, the black and white images that would move as
pictures through my mind. “These were a few of my favorites when I was young.” She
stopped to look directly at me, seeing into the void of my adolescent soul, before saying, “They still are.” She left me there inundated by my sense of awe, the smell of
lemon oil and paper permeating the air.
With a voracious addiction aided by suggestions from The Keeper, I journeyed
through the burning of Atlanta with Scarlett O’Hara, was enamored by Jane Eyre’s
Edward Rochester, and befriended Elizabeth Bennett and Mr. Darcy. I read beyond the
classics, incorporating novels that explored the deterioration of Alzheimer’s and the
degeneration of humanity in historical biographies, debating the morality and wisdom
of authors with the gray-haired librarian. I read and absorbed, my mind fed by the
wealth of information available in that small library.
Shakespeare, Faulkner, Hawthorne, and Poe, amid the company of endless
other authors, ingraining themselves unconsciously onto the small particles of my
cognizant self, helped guide the creation of my intellectual future—their living work
transcending beyond the strokes of paper and pen, steering a course I might not have
considered—as did the librarian who introduced me into their company. Time has erased
the face and name of that librarian, and I have moved past small-town living to rambling
multi-storied structures of literary proportions. Yet my mind reverts to that little library
and its Keeper with a fondness and propensity toward darkened alleys of books, the
smell of aging paper and lemon oil, and the squeak of oak floors. It is a fondness
reminiscent of childhood, summer days, and lifelong friends.
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On an ordinary map, M 99 makes a sharp right turn between a derelict gas
station and a sad white building. The door sags obscurely on rusty hinges, sandwiched
between tired, weather-beaten storefronts and crumbling sidewalks. Admittance is scant,
the hours random and scarce during the long slumber of winter, awakening as the
crocuses lift their heads toward spring’s kiss. A forgotten treasure in a dying town, the
door groans, standing open, admitting the children of summer complete with popsicles
dripping, staining the concrete blue and green. It is this memory of childhood where on
a hot summer day I long for the cool taste of raspberry, detailed debates, and the company of good friends, lifelong friends, first introduced on long summer days.
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J. RENEE’ BAKER
Langston Hughes:
A Great Writer with an Ordinary Flair
In his poems, “Song for a Dark Girl” and “Birmingham Sunday (September 15,
1963),” Langston Hughes describes the brutality that was inflicted upon some African
Americans during their struggle for civil rights. In “Song for a Dark Girl,” the girl has
witnessed the murder of her lover and is relating the experience. In his poem, “Birmingham Sunday (September 15, 1963),” four little black girls are killed in a church
bombing. Through his poetry, Hughes captures the dark moments in African-American
history. Both poems have similarities like the murder and death involving people of
African heritage and both are very powerful ballads; however, each is different in its
own setting. Evidence of the way these monstrous tragedies affected Hughes is depicted in the injustice and inequalities he speaks of throughout his simple, yet relevant
writings.
Hughes began to face many obstacles early in life, which could account for his writing with such passion and depth. According to Saunders Redding, after
divorcing her husband, Hughes’ mother was unable to support her family, so she moved
in with her mother. Being raised by his mother and grandmother, Hughes was exposed
to The Bible as well as stories about slaves and their struggle for freedom by his grandmother. Also, the knowledge of how his grandfather died beside activist John Brown
would have a major influence in his development as a poetic writer. While still a senior in high school, he started to write poetry and was chosen by his peers (mostly white)
as class poet of the year. As noted in Redding’s essay, “Hughes spent the next year in
Mexico with his father, who tried to discourage him from writing.” Nevertheless, he did
not allow this to prevent him from becoming one of America’s greatest and most wellknown black writers of this century.
“Song for a Dark Girl” was written in 1927, a time when lynching a black person was a common occurrence. The speaker states, “They hung my black young lover
/ To a cross roads tree” (lines 3-4). Hughes was directly exposed to the discrimination
and mistreatment that most African Americans were plagued with while growing up in
the 1920s. The black American ghetto life was the subject of quite a few of his poems.
He used the blues and jazz rhythms that the African-Americans were accustomed to
listening to on a daily basis in his writing. African-American people and their community were the focus for much of Hughes’ poetry. These poems show evidence of how
the prevalence of lynching and murder troubled Hughes, and how he chose to disclose
his feelings by writing about it.
Hughes was a distinctive voice that expressed the feelings of the AfricanAmerican people. He spoke through his poetry and also voiced his opinion when the occasion called for it. In his poem “Birmingham Sunday (September 15, 1963),” he
depicts the violence and brutality experienced by the African-American people during
this time. This poem represents the feelings and thoughts of African Americans who
were afraid to voice their opinions out loud because of what might happen to them,
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their families, friends, or neighbors. For example, the four little girls in the poem, who
were based on real victims of a bombing, were in church worshipping and learning
about God when this awful attack came upon them by surprise and took their young
lives. Hughes was obviously affected and moved to write this poem. He shows this fact
by stating:
Their blood upon the wall
With spattered flesh
And bloodied Sunday dresses
Torn to shreds by dynamite (5-8)
This stanza gives a vivid picture of this particular incident, showing that many blacks,
especially black men, were commonly murdered during this period in American history,
but to murder “[f]our tiny girls” was an even more despicable act of hatred towards the
African-American community (15). Hughes’ poems expose the shame of these ugly
truths, and it is evident in Hughes’ poetry that these same acts of cruelty that were being
inflicted upon blacks in the 1920s were also being committed in 1963.
In the two poems, Hughes is revealing the continuing racial prejudice in America. In “Birmingham Sunday (September 15, 1963),” the reader knows this bombing and
the murder of the four little girls did actually take place. In “Song for a Dark Girl,”
there is no true evidence of who the girl is or who her lover is. The poem states only
that a murder occurred and that the victim was her lover. Here Hughes is making an
implicit point, no doubt, and it is not important whether we know the victim or the girl.
The main thing we need to know is that such murders were rampant and that this poem
is highlighting this horrific fact. The girl in the poem is depicted as feeling forsaken, and
Hughes reveals this by her stating, “I asked the white Lord Jesus / What was the use of
prayer” (7-8). These lines reflect the hopelessness that the girl was feeling as she
watched her lover hanging on that tree. Also, these lines address the issues relating to
the lynchings that happened so often during the time when African Americans were
striving to be treated with respect and dignity. In the course of the time when Hughes
wrote “Song for a Dark Girl” and “Birmingham Sunday (September 15, 1963),” his
writings became more direct and to the point. They express the difference that only
life’s personal experience can provide, which is shown in his well-developed diction and
colorful tone.
Hughes had traveled widely between 1927 and 1967 and had become
established as he polished his poetry and honed his perspective to the extent that he
was hugely admired as a poet, mainly in the black community. In the essay “The Poetic Consciousness of Langston Hughes from Affirmation to Revolution,” Calvin Hernton states that some critics complain that Hughes’ writing is weak and demeaning
because the language is so plain and does not carry the basic literary connotations. Interpretation, it seems, is very important to Hughes. During his travels, he encountered
a variety of cultures, and he gained knowledge of people in general. His extensive association with people inspired him and showed in the way he was partial to the “people’s cause” during his many travels. In his essay, Hernton notices and remarks that
“not only was Hughes a poet of the New Negro/Harlem Renaissance, he was also a
poet of the legacy of the Russian Revolution and other revolutions of his times.” Therefore, he writes in a style that is spirited; there is little to no doubt to the meaning or
choice of his words. Hughes makes it clear in the poem by writing that “Four tiny girls
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/ Who left their blood upon that wall, / In little graves today await” (15-17). By doing
this, he spotlights African-American life because of the troubled times that he experienced universally and
personally. He uses direct and resolute language because it
is easy to understand, and his writing reflects the language most often used by the
African-American communities he visited during his travels.
Hughes wrote many poems between 1927 and 1967 and gained 40 years of
knowledge through the experience of living through times when it was difficult for a
man of color to exist as an equal. It seems that his attitude remained concerned and attentive, yet he shows a distinction in these time periods and the different ways in which
white America implemented these atrocious acts. Although the methods of death are
quite different, they are still ghastly. His writing style matured to the extent that he
could use other methods to relate his message. For example, his double use of the Chinese dragon symbol in “Birmingham Sunday (September 15, 1963),” “The dynamite
that might ignite / The fuse of centuries of Dragon Kings” (18-19), was not used in his
earlier poems. He uses China’s myth about the dragon being a force that dispenses
blessings to the dead as well as to the living; however, the symbol of the dragon also
refers to the Grand Dragon of the Ku Klux Klan. Meanwhile, Hughes continued to use
the ballad form, and it depicts sadness and sorrow in telling of death and destruction that
Hughes shows us in writing, “Four little girls / Who went to Sunday School that day /
And never came back home at all” (1-3). In this instance, his writing style seems to be
more refined than it was in many of his earlier works. Hughes was writing in a different time, but the same concerns are apparent in his writing, and it still depicts his ethnicity and where he came from.
In conclusion, Hughes was very effective in displaying the injustice and inequalities that were thrust upon African Americans in the 20th century. Hernton further
states that “[t]he poetry of Langston Hughes is imbued with a consciousness of black
people which has always awed and inspired me.” This statement shows that Hughes’ literary works not only speak to the black community, but they also speak to all people
regardless of their ethnicity. America was built with the help of African Americans and,
without that help, America might not be the great country it is today. By writing in the
speech of a common man, Hughes gives tremendous insight into the mind and spirit of
African-American culture. Thus, Hughes’ poetry endures down through the generations, and his poetry is still read by many different cultures today.
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Works Cited
Hernton, Calvin. ”The Poetic Consciousness of Langston Hughes from Affirmation to
Revolution.” Langston Hughes Review 12.1 (Spring 1993): 2-9. Rpt. in Poetry
Criticism. Ed. Timothy J Sisler. Vol. 53. Detroit: Gale, 2004. Literature
Resource Center. Web. 3 Apr. 2010.
Hughes, Langston. “Birmingham Sunday (September 15, 1963).” Literature, Reading,
Reacting, Writing. Ed. Laurie G. Kirszner and Stephen R. Mandell. Compact 7th
ed. Boston: Wadsworth Cengage Learning, 2010. 962-963. Print.
---. “Song for a Dark Girl.” Literature, Reading, Reacting, Writing. Ed. Laurie G.
Kirszner and Stephen R. Mandell. Compact 7th ed. Boston: Wadsworth Cengage
Learning, 2010. 959. Print.
Redding, Saunders. “Hughes, Langston (1902-1967).” Encyclopedia of World Biography.
2nd ed. Gale. 1998. Student Resource Center – College Edition Expanded. Web. 3
Apr. 2010.
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JAMES DUNLAP
Population of Loss
According to the introduction to James Joyce in Literature: Reading, Reacting,
Writing, the author of “Araby” grew up in Dublin in the late 1800s. He was sent to a
school for priesthood, but soon after his studies, he rebelled and went to Paris. There
he raised a family with Nora Barnacle, whom he didn’t marry for 27 years (Kirszner
375). This kind of life gave him a unique way of presenting his stories. Likewise, the
author of “The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock,” T.S. Eliot went to Paris to further his
studies. While there he struck up a friendship with a fellow lodger and medical student
named Jean Verdenal. After Verdenal died in the Battle of the Dardanelles, Eliot wrote
and dedicated his landmark poem, “The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock,” to him
(Bush). These two authors have many similarities in their writing. One of those
similarities is that the main character in both Joyce’s story and Eliot’s poem questions
whether to make known his innermost feelings, and Joyce and Eliot use similar imagery to describe women. In both works, there are also moments where it all becomes
almost too much for the characters. While the two works are definitely aiming at two
different things, they are similar in nature. The two main characters have an epiphany
that the things they pursued are all in vain. For Joyce’s boy, it is the girl; for Eliot’s
Prufrock, it is understanding and a way to reveal his true self.
When a person realizes that he or she has strong feelings for someone else,
there is often that element of doubt, that question of whether to tell or not. The same
can be said for those who find they do not have the same feelings for another. In Joyce’s
“Araby,” this point is illustrated when the boy describes his feelings for Mangan’s sister. The boy states, “I did not know whether I would ever speak to her or not or, if I
spoke to her, how I could tell her of my confused adoration” (377). The young boy is
feeling the effects of a crush. He seems resigned to not talking to the girl because he will
not be able to explain his feelings. This is also how the speaker feels in Eliot’s poem,
“The Love Song of Alfred J. Prufrock.” He is reduced to inaction for fear that he cannot convey his feelings and fear of the reaction he might get. Eliot sums it by saying, “Do I dare / Disturb the universe?” (lines 45-46). This anxiety increases as the
story and poem progress. In fact the emotions almost boil over.
Everyone has his or her breaking point, and these two characters are no different. The boy in Joyce’s story nearly reaches this point. He is up in the parlor, alone and
in the dark; he hears the girl’s voice and almost loses control. He muses, “All my senses
seemed to desire to veil themselves and, feeling that I was about to slip from them, I
pressed my hands together until they trembled, murmuring: ‘Oh Love! Oh Love!’ many
times” (377). The boy is trying not to defile himself. What can be pulled from this is
just how strongly he feels and how hard it is for him to contain these feelings. Similarly,
in Eliot’s poem, his speaker is mulling over whether he should tell a woman his feelings at all costs. He states throughout the poem that he knows how he will be seen and
treated, but he questions whether he should explain himself. He, like the little boy,
reaches a frantic moment, which is revealed when he says, “Should I, after tea and cake
and ices, / Have the strength to force the moment to its crisis? / … I have wept and
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fasted, wept and prayed” (79-81). The boy in “Araby” is in effect praying just like
Prufrock. At this moment they both come very close to acting on their urges. The emotion of the story and poem is coupled with a strong use of imagery.
Both writers use imagery to accentuate these scenes and emotions. A cat is
used in Eliot’s poem to symbolize the fog (15-23). Meanwhile, there is a harp used in
Joyce’s story to symbolize his love interest (377). Both works describe a female who
wears bracelets. In this part of “Araby,” the girl is actually talking to the little boy. She
explains she cannot go to Araby, a bazaar. Joyce lends a little detail and shows her intent when he writes, “While she spoke she turned a silver bracelet round and round her
wrist” (377). This simple detail shows she is trying to appeal to the boy in a time when
this little bit of the flesh would be quite showing. Eliot uses a similar description in his
poem. After the speaker envisions what will happen if he spills out his innermost feelings, he then takes a moment to talk about how the woman repulses him. Prufrock says,
“And I have known the arms already, known them all – / Arms that are braceleted and
white and bare” (62-63). While Joyce’s character is getting closer to finding out the
girl does not like him the same way he likes her, Prufrock is getting closer to realizing
he can never tell a woman his feelings. For Prufrock, it is just more reasoning and worrying, while Joyce’s boy has to swallow a disappointing moment.
Both male characters experience their epiphanies in different ways. In Joyce’s
story, everything has built to the boy going to Araby. This is his one shot at gaining
favor with the apple of his eye. He has not really thought of how she feels about him.
He is so infatuated that he becomes narrow-sighted. He thinks of nothing but her. A
simple event leads him to his epiphany, and a small event crushes him. He has finally
made it to Araby, but everything is closing, and he sees a young lady, probably no older
than his girl, talking with two young men. He quickly sees that he was used and is
devastated. Joyce explains the boy’s feelings by stating, “Gazing up into the darkness
I saw myself as a creature driven and derided by vanity” (379). He ultimately
understands his desire was all in vain and he has no future with the girl. Prufrock’s
epiphany is a little different, however. At this point in Eliot’s poem, Prufrock is
analyzing his options and trying to will himself into action. He takes the reader to when
he is old and hints that he will never act out his feelings and that he will live out the rest
of his life burdened. Eliot makes it clear when Prufrock declares, “I have heard the
mermaids singing, each to each. // I do not think they will sing to me” (125-26). Both
characters equally share in the desolation of wasted emotion. Joyce’s boy will never
look at the girl the same way. He is crushed that someone he admired so much could
be so cruel. Along the same lines, Eliot’s Prufrock will have to live out his days with
the restriction he has felt. He will never be who he is, but rather will continue as everyone else thinks he should be. In a way neither of the narrators is able to act out his feelings.
As Dante Alighieri writes of the gates into hell in The Inferno, “Through me
you enter into the city of woes / through me you enter into eternal pain / Through me
you enter the population of loss”… “Abandon all hope, you who enter here” (III.1-3,
9). Hell has long been a home for those of a single-minded pursuit. This seems to be
the case for the little boy in “Araby” and J. Alfred Prufrock. One might be inclined to
think they were both in hell on earth, given their situation. For the boy, this is a hard13
learned life lesson. As for Prufrock, he may never be truly happy. As literature often reflects the life of the writer, it is interesting to note that Joyce rebelled against his
religious heritage (Kirszner 375). Eliot, on the other hand, drew more and more on his
religion as his life went on. In fact he wrote a lot of Christian material further along in
his career (Bush). Though they share a common thread, which is in writing and in a religious upbringing, the two authors couldn’t be more different. Like their characters,
Joyce and Eliot suffered trials and lived with their decisions, making the best out of
each obstacle, and that’s the human experience.
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Works Cited
Alighieri, Dante. The Inferno. Trans. John Ciardi. New York: NAL, 1971. Print.
Bush, Ronald. “T.S. Eliot’s Life and Career.” American National Biography. Ed. John A.
Garraty and Mark C. Carnes. New York: Oxford UP, 1999. Modern American
Poetry. Web. 8 Feb. 2010.
Eliot, T.S. “The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock.” Kirszner and Mandell 1017-1021.
Print.
Joyce, James. “Araby.” Kirszner and Mandell 375-379. Print.
Kirszner, Laurie G., and Stephen R. Mandell. “James Joyce.” 375. Print.
---. Literature: Reading, Reacting, Writing. Ed. Laurie G. Kirszner and Stephen R.
Mandell. Compact 7th ed. Boston: Wadsworth Cengage Learning, 2010. Print.
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S T E FA N I C H A N E Y
Symbolism, Violence, and Language
in Sylvia Plath’s Poetry
Sylvia Plath is well known for her unique use of language and imagery
throughout her poetry. Plath used poetry to express the ordeals that she and many other
women faced in their lifetime. These ordeals are the main themes of her poems, and they
range from oppression to marriage to childbearing. Plath used many experiences from
her life as examples in her writing to express her inner frustrations. In fact, most of her
poetry deals with a woman’s struggle of finding her place in society. Although Plath is
admired for her subject matter concerning the choices that women must face, she is
just as well known for her violent and sometimes vicious poetry. Three of her poems,
“Daddy,” “Mirror,” and “Lady Lazarus,” exemplify Plath’s unusual use of
violence, symbolism, and wording.
Symbols and metaphors are abundant throughout Plath’s poetry. Some of her
most common images are references to the horrors of the Holocaust. In particular,
“Daddy” is filled with some of Plath’s darkest Holocaustic symbols. In this poem, Plath
places herself in the role of a victim. Plath writes, “I began to talk like a Jew / I think
I may well be a Jew” (lines 34-35). In “‘This Holocaust I Walk In:’ Consuming Violence
in Sylvia Plath’s Poetry,” Jacqueline Shea Murphy reveals that Plath actually “wrote the
bulk of these poems almost two decades after the war.” Murphy then continues by noting another behind Plath’s use of the Holocaust. She states that it is not just a political
statement that is “connected to her keen sensitivity to political horrors” but that mostly
it is “inextricably tied to the immediate personal struggles she faced as a woman.”
While Plath may have written about the Holocaust long after it actually happened, the
effects are the same. The metaphors of Nazis and Jews are Plath’s own personal and political way of describing gender and oppression. The suppression of an entire race
through the use of violence is a measure against the extremity of her own personal feelings of suppression due to her gender.
Ordinary everyday images are also found in “Daddy.” Symbols, like a black
shoe suffocating a foot, set the tone for the speaker’s feelings. For example, in using
the shoe image the speaker states, “In which I have lived like a foot / For thirty years,
poor and white” (4-5). Meanwhile, some of the metaphors are more subtle. Such is the
case in “Mirror” and how, during the course of the poem, the mirror changes itself and
its reflections, claiming, “Most of the time I meditate on the opposite wall” and “Now
I am a lake” (6, 10). The woman analyzing her reflection defines every woman’s desire
for perfection in what she sees, when she relates, “A woman bends over me / searching my reaches for what she really is” (9-10). According to William Freedman in “The
Monster in Plath’s Mirror,” the woman who plays the key role in “Mirror” wants to see
her reflection showing herself as the “male-defined ideal…the woman who desires to
remain forever the young girl…for confirmation of the man-pleasing myth of perpetual
youth, docility, and sexual allure.” Freedmen makes a wonderful point in his interpreta16
tion of the poem. The reflection that Plath describes is nothing more than one woman’s
desire to be approved by the “male-defined ideal” of perfection, and, in doing so, she
loses touch with her true self-worth.
Furthermore, the title of one of Plath’s better-known poems is a symbol in of
itself. “Lady Lazarus” brings to mind the biblical story of Lazarus, the man who was
raised from the dead. However, in Plath’s version, she narrates how she is once again
rising from one of her suicide attempts. The speaker in the poem claims, “Dying / Is
an art like everything else. / I do it exceptionally well” (43-45). “Lady Lazarus”
continues on in its many metaphors with its description of Plath’s life. As in when the
speaker describes herself with “And I am only thirty / And like the cat I have nine times
to die” (20-21). In a sense, she is conveying to the reader not only the innumerable
attempts at suicide she has taken, but also how she is able to so easily convey her
emotions about it.
The gruesome symbols of dead or mutilated bodies are abundant throughout
Plath’s poetry. Again, Murphy notes about the violence in "Daddy" and "Lady Lazarus"
that there is an obvious connection between “violent control of bodies in history” and
gender oppression. Murphy continues, “In them, the speaker moves from the position
of the oppressed – the Jew, the mutilated concentration camp victim – to that of the
oppressor, capable of killing and consuming others' flesh.” It is in these bodies’ changes
from oppressed to oppressor that Plath is urging readers to take control of their own actions and fate. By refusing to be oppressed, Plath was able to achieve her goals of creativity through her writing.
Another one of Plath’s most unique traits is the amount of violent images and
scenes in her work. A large amount of this violence stemmed from Plath’s life; she
famously suffered with severe bouts of depression, which led to several suicide attempts.
Plath was able to translate the inner violence of her emotions into her poetry. Likewise,
as Jeannine Dobbs points out in “‘Viciousness in the Kitchen’: Sylvia Plath’s Domestic Poetry,” Plath was known for frequently depicting “physical and mental pain as retribution for doing or being bad,” and Dobbs links a connection between “images that
associate physical and mental suffering…with domestic relationships and/or domestic
roles.” Plath’s poetry often expressed frustration about the confusing, conflicting desires
to be a free independent woman, yet still be capable of being desired by men.
A portion of that domestic role is shown in “Mirror,” and while it is Plath’s ode
to one woman’s search for perfection, it is also about how that search can sour other aspects of life. While this poem is not one of Plath’s more particularly violent works, its
subtle viciousness is hidden in the context. The lines “What ever I see I swallow immediately” and “I am not cruel, only truthful” (2, 4) reveal the bluntness of the mirror’s reflection. The final line reveals the true reasoning behind the poem’s meaning. The
mirror recounts, “In me she has drowned a young girl, and in me an old woman / rises
toward her day after day, like a terrible fish” (17-18). The revelation at the end of “Mirror” acknowledges Plath’s opinion on the fate of how any search for perfection is met.
The cruelty in the poem’s final line sends the message that only woman alone can take
control and break free of the barriers that society and men have placed on her to live life
freely. Perfection is a matter of choice because, no matter what, death awaits in the end.
Another perspective is what could arguably have been one of Plath’s worst fears, that
17
the only one suppressing her was herself. As Freedmen observes, the poem shows a
“suppression of self” and consequently “the last image the reflector swallows is that of
the terrible fish, which is at once its concealed opposite and its concealing self.”
The oppression of woman’s control of her own life leads to many violent symbols and images. The theme of male-enforced repression is continued even further in
“Daddy,” where the male figures are described as vampires, both of whom the speaker
is forced to kill to survive. She pronounces, “If I’ve killed one man, I’ve killed two”
(71). Again, the influence of patriarchs on Plath’s life also greatly affected her poetry.
Yet the effects of Plath’s expression of violence do not stop there, as Jahan Ramazani
notes in “Daddy, I Have Had to Kill You: Plath, Rage, and the Modern Elegy.”
Ramazani acknowledges that “Plath broke taboos…on female expressions of rage….
The daughter's elegy for the father became, with her help, one of the subgenres that
enabled women writers to voice anti-patriarchal anger in poetry.” By refusing to reign
in the aggression in her poetry, Plath’s use of violence tore down barriers that would
have otherwise repressed the next generations of women.
Lastly, Plath’s attempts at suicide are referenced throughout her poetry. One example is how she delicately describes some of her reasoning, her longing to be back
with her father. As the speaker states in “Daddy,” “I was ten when they buried you / At
twenty I tried to die / And get back, back, back to you” (57-59). Plath’s past is brought
to light in her retelling of the biblical story of Lazarus. This story, of the dead rising
again, is the perfect format for Plath to be as vivid in her images and metaphors as she
wishes, writing “Ash, ash – / You poke and stir. / Flesh, bone, there is nothing there”
(73-75). As is the situation in “Mirror,” the true meaning is only revealed at the end. In
this case, true to her skewed form, the speaker has risen from death only to seek revenge
in the form of more deaths. At the end of the poem, she promises, “Out of the ash / I
rise with my red hair / And I eat men like air” (82-84). According to Murphy, on Plath’s
uses of bodies, the “cut bodies, perfect dead bodies, feverish bodies, are authoritative
texts to be read. This configuration flips the dichotomy of oppressor/oppressed, so the
oppressed body ends up on the top,” while also as creative outlets these bodies helped
Plath create “texts from pain, her mutilated body becomes a source and manifestation
of her power.” “Lady Lazarus” could arguably be Plath’s most violent in terms of
imagery. As Murphy states above, the use of bodies and their various shapes of health
are critical to understanding the meaning of the specific poem in which they are placed.
Like all writers do, Plath took great care in her choice of wording. Yet, it is her
purposeful use of words and phrases that makes the most pronounced impact on the
reader. She exchanged words to carefully craft her metaphors and cause shock. Some of
her delights in language range from curse words to repetitions to get her point across.
One of Plath’s greater uses of language is how seamlessly she switches from
English to German in “Daddy.” After spending most of the poem referencing Germany,
the speaker breaks into the poem with a mixture of English and German, crying, “Ich,
ich, ich, ich. / I could hardly speak” (27-28). Plath often resorted to repetition to further prove her point, such as the constant repeating of the previous stanza and the repetition at the beginning of the poem, “You do not do”(1). The repetition in “Daddy”
works to force, not only herself but her readers as well, to believe the finality of her obsession with her father’s approval. Brita Lindbergh-Seyersted’s “‘Bad’ Language Can
18
Be Good: Slang and Other Expressions of Extreme Informality in Sylvia Plath’s Poetry”
affirms Plath’s use of words in “Daddy” by noting that “[t]he picture of the authoritarian,
fear-inspiring father that the poem offers, receives quite logically its spiteful
finishing touch in the 'bastard' epithet, but several clowning words…justify a different
interpretation.” Lindbergh-Seyersted is correct in her point; the whole purpose of Plath’s
careful crafting of words and placement are what best gets the point across. “Daddy’s”
beginning repetition sends the reader into a lull. This is followed by nonsensical, yet
playful words that are meant to lure the reader into a sense of the speaker’s passiveness
only to be shocked by the finality of the speaker’s decisiveness. In “Mirror,” Plath again
uses repetition and twisted words to reach her meaning. In this case, the soft repetition
of “day” gives the reader the image of a slowing rising dark fate of a “terrible” end. The
old woman “[r]ises toward her day after day, like a terrible fish” (18). Part of Plath’s
gift with language is how she references it and its ability to be distorted in her poems.
The speaker points out how just a trick of light can mislead others, stating, “Then she
turns to those liars, the candles or the moon” (13).
Slang is also widely used in Plath’s poetry. In “Lady Lazarus,” “What a trash
/ To annihilate each decade” (23-24) is a play on words in slang form. “What a trash”
could just as easily be translated to “What a drag” in order to show her laissez-faire approach to the tragedy of her deaths. Yet, at the same time, this phrase is describing her
approach to life as nothing more than “trash,” or a waste.
Plath’s selection of words and phrases can change the context and the mood of
the speaker. In this instance, the speaker is able to easily convey how the audience
views her tragedy with the simple hints of a show, as the audience watches “Them unwrap me hand in foot – / The big strip tease / Gentlemen, ladies” (28-30). As Joyce
Carol Oates asserts in “The Death Throes of Romanticism: The Poems of Sylvia Plath,”
the speaker “does not expect a sympathetic response from the mob of spectators that
crowd in to view her.” The careful placement of wording in “Lady Lazarus” is what
makes the most dramatic impact on the reader. Plath is able to delicately separate the
cruel risen-again speaker from its victim of the insipid crowd. It is these simple choices
that a writer makes that can have a most profound effect on the readers.
“Daddy,” “Mirror,” and “Lady Lazarus” are just three of the many poems that
show Plath’s wide range of writing. She was able to transfer the violent emotions that
would eventually destroy her into creative expressions in her poetry. These creative expressions would remain long after she ended her life and change the way the public
views female writers. Still, while Plath was an unconventional writer who focused on
less-than-ideal feminine topics, her work reverberates still to this day with women from
all walks of life. Whether it is in her range of topics (a parent’s lasting effects, a satisfaction in one’s reflection, or a skewed look at death) or her choice of how the poems
will make the most dramatic effects (symbolism, imagery, or wording), Plath’s poetry
gives its readers plenty to ponder over.
19
Works Cited
Dobbs, Jeannine. “‘Viciousness in the Kitchen’: Sylvia Plath’s Domestic Poetry.” Modern
Language Studies 7.2 (1977): 11-25. Literature Resource Center. Web. 27 Nov. 2009.
Freedmen, William. “The Monster in Plath’s Mirror.” Papers on Language and Literature
108.5 (Oct. 1993): 152-169. Literature Resource Center. Web. 27 Nov. 2009.
Lindbergh-Seyersted, Brita. “‘Bad’ Language Can Be Good: Slang and Other Expressions of
Extreme Informality in Sylvia Plath’s Poetry.” English Studies 78.1 (Jan. 1977): 19-31.
Literature Resource Center. Web. 27 Nov. 2009.
Murphy, Jacqueline Shea. “‘This Holocaust I Walk In:’ Consuming Violence in Sylvia Plath’s
Poetry.” Bucknell Review 39.1 (1995): 104-117. Literature Resource Center. Web. 27
Nov. 2009.
Oates, Joyce Carol. “The Death Throes of Romanticism: The Poems of Sylvia Plath.” The
Southern Review 9.3 (Summer 1973): 501-502. Literature Resource Center. Web. 27
Nov. 2009.
Plath, Sylvia. The Collected Poems. Ed. Ted Hughes. New York: Harper, 2008. Print.
Ramazani, Jahan. “Daddy, I Have Had to Kill You: Plath, Rage, and the Modern Elegy.”
PMLA 108.5 (Oct. 1993): 1142-1156. Literature Resource Center. Web. 27 Nov. 2009.
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R O X A N N E N I C H O L E L I T C H H O LT
Poe’s Insanity: Character or Truth?
The short story, “The Black Cat,” written by Edgar Allan Poe, is the narrator’s
in-depth confession on the eve of his execution. In the opening lines of the story, the
narrator states, “For the most wild yet most homely narrative which I am about to pen,
I neither expect nor solicit belief” (Poe 522). This opening, along with many other
events throughout the story, has different interpretations depending on the reader’s
analysis of this tale. In Poe’s “The Black Cat,” he is able to capture his audience’s
attention with hidden meanings buried throughout the story with his use of imagery
and symbolism. Poe’s main character, the unnamed narrator, carries an essence of madness
many readers believe to be a direct projection of the inner thoughts of Poe himself.
Within this story of murder, Poe entices the reader to examine the validity of the
narrator’s account of the violent crimes he commits. Through Poe’s expert use of horror, graphic detail, and irony, he attaches symbolism and imagery to his characters and
the events leading up to the final murder of the narrator’s wife.
The first of many heinous crimes that the narrator performs in “The Black Cat”
is the inhumane gouging of the eye of the beloved family cat, Pluto. Even though the
narrator describes the cat fondly before this first act of violence, his aggression escalates to include killing Pluto by hanging the cat from a tree in the front yard. The narrator views the cat as a driving force or demon that is provoking him to commit these
offenses. The narrator’s quick change of heart toward the cat seems unjust to the reader
because there is not one incident in his rantings to suggest that the cat is anything other
than a normal, loving black domestic cat. In trying to justify his innocence, the narrator attempts to persuade not only the reader but also himself that he is of sane mind. In
an article that examines the sanity of the narrator, one critic writes, “From the very first
lines of ‘The Black Cat,’ the narrator simultaneously creates doubt about his sanity and
tries to win the reader’s sympathy and convince the reader of his sanity” (Ruffner 4).
In addition, critic Bryan Aubrey points out that this story contains a hint of the
supernatural by the way that the narrator wants the reader to believe each of the events
takes place (35). This either explains how Pluto reappears later on in the story to
torment the narrator, even after the gouging of his eye and death by hanging in the yard,
or it is solid evidence that the narrator does not have a sound mind.
Symbolism is one of the main literary elements the reader sees throughout
“The Black Cat.” Even though each critic may attach a different meaning to each symbol, most critics agree on what these symbols are. The cat, the most obvious symbol in
this story, takes on different meanings depending on the critic and his or her particular
analysis. Some critics, Susan Amper for example, question if there really are two different cats in the story or if the second one is just Pluto all along. Amper poses not only
a good question, but also a good answer to how the white mark could appear on the
chest of Pluto when she states, “The cat was caught in the recent house fire and was
burned; the splotch is simply the grayish-white muscle tissue that would lie exposed
where the flesh has burned away” (482). This explanation not only makes perfect sense,
but it also coincides with the narrator’s claim that the cat is thrown into his burning
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house by the neighbors in an attempt to wake those within. Poe’s description of the
white splotch as taking the shape of the gallows on the second cat’s chest is seen as the
narrator’s interpretation of his own guilt and fear of conviction for his crimes (483).
Another opinion of Poe’s intentions with “The Black Cat” comes from critic
John Harmon McElroy. He categorizes this tale as a “Comic Design” due to Poe’s use
of “dramatic irony” (101-102). With the murder of his cat Pluto and later on his wife,
the narrator notes that both are concealed in walls of fresh plaster. McElroy argues that
this is not a coincidence and is certainly the evidence regarded by the jury for its
conviction of the narrator’s guilt (103). When admitting to the slaying of the cat Pluto,
the narrator tries to convince the reader that he is not responsible for concealing the cat
in the fresh plaster of the wall above their bed. The plaster is another one of the many
uses of symbolism and irony that foreshadow things to come in this tale of murder. In
describing all of his violent crimes, the narrator is oblivious to the multitude of
discrepancies in his confession. McElroy refers to the ignorance of these inconsistencies as “The Narrator’s Laughable Flaws” because his confession is more damning than
the narrator intends (103). The most idiotic and comical flaw is the narrator’s display
of arrogance when he believes he has committed the perfect murder and flown under
the investigators’ radar. Just as the investigators are leaving and he is about to be cleared
of his crime, the narrator taps on the wall where the body of his dead wife is entombed.
His egotistical need to gloat is what arouses the cat to scream, allowing both the cat and
the wife to get their revenge and ultimately send the narrator to the gallows.
It is widely believed that the narrators in Poe’s short stories are somehow
reflections of Poe himself. In “The Black Cat,” the narrator’s insanity is shown through
his innocent description of the horrific crimes he commits. This is not only apparent
from the beginning of his confession but also at the end when he states, “The guilt of
my dark deed disturbed me but little” (Poe 526). Critic James W. Gargano believes
“that Poe’s narrators possess a character and consciousness distinct from those of their
creator” (43). “The Black Cat” is a confession of violent crimes by a man who displays
no remorse or guilt and cannot realistically be a confession of Poe’s actions. Rumors
of Poe’s psychological instability are certainly due to the numerous biographies, many
of which are exaggerations on the true events of his personal life. It is commonly noted
in many biographies that through Poe’s hard life, he often reinvented himself from time
to time with elaborate tales of his origin and career success. Poe, in his frustrations with
his romantic interests, career, and his life in general, was known to indulge in alcohol,
and this may be the connection between himself and the narrator. In “The Black Cat,”
the narrator makes several references to his use of alcohol and even suggests that it is
one of the contributors to his madness. Ed Piacentino, another critic of “The Black
Cat,” agrees with Gargano and advises readers “to avoid the biographical pitfall of
seeing Poe and the…narrator…” as one in the same (42).
Many critics believe there is a connection between the narrator’s hatred of his
cat Pluto and the abusive treatment of his wife (Aubrey 38). In the story, the narrator
describes his wife as a loving, uncomplaining, and patient woman, but still she is a
recipient of his violence and anger along with Pluto. Because of her unwillingness to
fight back against her husband’s physical abuse and her readiness to continue giving
him love he knows he does not deserve, the narrator grows to despise his wife. The cat
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and wife both continue to show unconditional love and affection for the narrator, even
though he is physically abusive. With this identical treatment from the cat and wife,
the narrator starts to view them as one in the same, and this is why they are both the victims of his violence. In addition, the guilt the narrator feels for his abusive acts toward his
wife makes him sensitive to her constant remarks about the white mark on the cat’s
chest and its resemblance of the gallows. In Aubrey’s critical essay, he speculates that
these references may actually be the wife’s passive aggressiveness toward her husband’s abuse. Aubrey states, “It is as if she is using her one weapon against him, and
persists in doing so until it produces the desired effect, terrorizing the terrorist” (38).
One critic sees the narrator’s motive for violence in this story as anger regarding his apparent feminine traits. In Ann Bliss’s critical essay on “The Black Cat,” she
argues that the relationship between the cat and the narrator is almost maternal in the
way he nurtures and cares for the cat. The narrator may feel as if his interactions with
the cat consist of traces of femininity and therefore see those interactions as inappropriate (Bliss 96). His attempts to display more masculine traits manifest into increasingly gruesome acts of brutality toward Pluto. Bliss points out that in the story there is
no indication that the narrator has a job or any children, which can support the argument
that he has a sense of failed masculinity because of his inability to meet culturally
determined gender expectations (97). During the time this story is set, it would not be
socially acceptable for a man to be publically gay or to even possess the slight trace of
feminine behavior. If the narrator feels he has any feminine traits or thoughts that he
cannot control, it is believable that this could be a source of his frustration and anger.
Bliss feels that the narrator views the cat as his surrogate child, and by the cat revoking his unconditional love for him, the cat is rejecting his maternal side (97). In this
critic’s interpretation, the cat symbolizes the narrator’s constant reminder of his lack of
masculinity which forces him to commit excessively masculine acts like murdering his
wife (Bliss 98).
In truth, the only one who can reveal what is actually meant by each of the
symbols in “The Black Cat” is Poe himself. Each critic has an in-depth and believable
hypothesis and perception of Poe’s hidden messages through his symbolism and
imagery. However, nearly all critical analysis that pertains to “The Black Cat” views the
cat as the main source of symbolism. Most critics believe Poe uses the cat to provoke
his audience to examine not only the narrator’s tale of murder, but also the psychological
well-being of this storyteller. Through the narrator, Poe uses his expertise in the use of
imagery to allow readers to lose themselves in the horror and graphic detail of the story.
Poe’s craftsmanship in using symbolism and imagery also allow him to capture his
audience and lead them toward finding new and various cryptic meanings each time
they read “The Black Cat.”
23
Works Cited
Amper, Susan. “Untold Story: The Lying Narrator in ‘The Black Cat.’” Studies in Short
Fiction 29.4 (Fall 1992): 475-485. Literary Reference Center. Web. 7 Mar. 2009.
Aubrey, Bryan. “Critical Essay on 'The Black Cat.’” Short Stories for Students. Ed. Ira
Mark Milne. Vol. 26. Detroit: Gale, Cengage Learning, 2008. 35-38. Print.
Bliss, Ann V. “Household Horror: Domestic Masculinity in Poe’s ‘The Black Cat.’”
Explicator 67.2 (Winter 2009): 96-99. Literary Reference Center. Web. 4 Apr.
2009.
Gargano, James W. “Critical Essay on ‘The Black Cat.’” Short Stories for Students. Ed.
Ira Mark Milne. Vol. 26. Detroit: Gale, Cengage Learning, 2008. 42-46. Print.
McElroy, John Harmon. “Comic Design in ‘The Black Cat.’” Readings on The
Short Stories of Edgar Allen Poe. Ed. Hayley Mitchell Haugen. San Diego, CA:
Greenhaven Press, 2001. 101-113. Print.
Piacentino, Ed. “Poe’s ‘The Black Catt’ as Psychobiography: Some Reflections on
the Narratological Dynamics.” Studies in Short Fiction 35.2 (Spring 1998): 153168. Literary Reference Center. Web. 8 Mar. 2009.
Poe, Edgar Allan. “The Black Cat.” Literature: An Introduction to Reading and Writing.
Ed. Edgar V. Roberts and Henry E. Jacobs. 8th ed. Upper Saddle River: Pearson
Prentice Hall, 2007. 522-527. Print.
Ruffner, Courtney J., et al. “Intelligence: Genius or Insanity? Tracing Motifs in Poe’s
Madness Tales.” Bloom’s BioCritiques: Edgar Allan Poe (2002): 43-63. Literary
Reference Center. Web. 7 Mar. 2009.
24
LAUREN MORGAN
What Barbie Dolls Are Made Of
Poet Marge Piercy, an American feminist and activist, writes quite liberally on
topics orbiting the sensitive subject of societal expectations of women. In her two
poems, “Barbie Doll” (1973) and “What Are Big Girls Made Of?” (1997), Piercy allows
satirical bitterness to ooze from her stanzas and haunt her readers. By painting such detailed verbal pictures of her subjects, one may assume that many of the pains and emotions from her poems have once been her own. According to Terry McManus, writer
of a short biography on Piercy, “She did not fit any image of what women were supposed to be like. The Freudianism that permeated educated values in the fifties
labeled her aberrant for her sexuality and ambitions.” Her own personal struggles to meet
gender-based expectations in teen and adult life are reflected throughout her poems, a
tangible pain that adds credibility to her words. While these two poems in particular
focus on separate subjects as well as issues, Piercy amplifies the strains of the pressure
that women endure to meet the ideal physical standards of American
society. She
gives readers a better understanding of the psychological and emotional destruction
these strains triggered by viewing these issues from a more morbid standpoint. She uses
dark humor and sarcasm to defend the women who are the subjects of her poems. In
fact, one of her subjects committed suicide because she was being bullied by peers because of her physical appearance. By comparing these women to well-known manufactured products, using vivid and relative imagery, and using an informal diction
beneath heavily sarcastic tones, Piercy allows readers to feel her anger and truly connect to the meanings and messages behind her words.
By allowing the women in her poems to become equivalent to glorified
manufactured products, Piercy can better demonstrate the confusion that humans face
with the difference between fantasies and reality. In "Barbie Doll," the subject is a girl
hitting puberty, and she is described as a girl who was "Presented dolls that did
pee-pee / and miniature GE stoves and irons / and wee lipsticks the color of cherry
candy" (lines 2-4). These lines indicate that the girl was subjected to feminine normalcy
and should therefore be able to assume the roles of the typical adolescent female when
necessary. It is a mockery of her incapability to do so. She was presented with all the
proper tools, so why hasn't she met the proper expectations? According to literary critic
Casey Evans, her comparison to that of a Barbie doll “reveals the irony of the title.” The
girl in the poem lacks society's definition of beauty, which is made clear when one of
her classmates exclaims that she has “a great big nose and fat legs” (6). When she apologizes countless times for her physical incompetence, and “her good nature [wears]
out like a fan belt,” the girl turns to suicide by means of cutting off the very nose and
legs that earn her so much abuse (15-16). In her casket, she is finally recognized as
“pretty” with her manufactured cosmetics and “turned up putty nose,” a heart-breaking
irony that mocks a reality every woman has understood at some point (23, 21). Evans further states that “[g]irls are ultimately and fatally entrapped by society's narrow definitions
25
of feminine behavior and beauty.” In “What are Big Girls Made Of?” Piercy writes:
a woman is not made of flesh
of bone and sinew
belly and breasts, elbows and liver and toe.
She is manufactured like a sports sedan. (2-5)
This parallelism implies that women no longer possess a simple natural beauty, or even
an internal beauty, but rather a plastic and manufactured beauty that can only be deemed
acceptable by society. The speaker patronizes the subject, Cecile, for improperly wearing “skirts tight to the knees” and “dark red lipstick” in 1968 (13, 12), which apparently was a time in which “mini skirt[s]” and “Lipstick pale as apricot milk” were more
fashionably suited (14-15).
Piercy's comparisons coincide flawlessly with her imagery. While both poems
involve imagery of different degrees, both are abundant in it, and it is this poetic device
that brings her words to life. In “Barbie Doll,” most of her imagery is used at the end
of the poem to exaggerate the girl's funeral, where she is finally labeled as attractive.
Piercy describes:
In the casket displayed on the satin she lay
with the undertaker's cosmetics painted on
a turned- up putty nose,
dressed in a pink and white nightie. (19-22)
This provides a strong visual aid of what the girl looks like in her final “glorious”
moments when she has met society's standards. Piercy’s previously vague descriptions
of the girl are intended to only allow readers to picture the girl's inadequacies. Our
only visual insight is of the girl's overly large nose and legs. Meanwhile, “What Are Big
Girls Made Of?” is much richer in imagery due to the themes of the poem. When the
speaker describes the former college version of Cecile, she uses images of her “[wriggling] through bars like a satin eel,” and “her mouth [pursing] / in the dark red lipstick
of desire” (9-11). When describing French fashion models, she uses loads of satirical
humor. She uses comical images such as “The breasts are stuffed up and out / offered
like apples in a bowl,” (8-9) and the following:
hair like a museum piece, daily
ornamented with ribbons, vases,
grottoes, mountains, frigates in full
sail, balloons, baboons, the fancy
of a hairdresser turned loose. (13-17)
This humor exaggerates the ridiculous measures women not only go through now, but
in earlier times as well, to be accepted by society. She says that the “superior” modern
woman is “thin as a blade of scissors” (44-45) and that she has “a body of rosy / glass
that never wrinkles / never grows, never fades” (50-52). This is a recitation of the
attributes women must obtain to be physically accepted by men and fellow women.
The speaker contrasts the love of humans to that of dogs, by saying that dogs fall in love
just as passionately as we do but with “furry flesh / not hoop skirts or push up bras / rib
removal or liposuction” (61-63) and further questions why we as humans cannot “like
each other raw” and “love ourselves” (67-68). These poems both use intense
imagery to exaggerate the points Piercy's speakers are making, and her word choice further connects the readers to her speakers.
26
The diction Piercy uses for both poems is relatively informal and extremely sarcastic, which is intended to allow readers to further feel these emotions with a
modern viewpoint. If the speaker used an elevated formality, the quality and seriousness of
the poems would, ironically, lose value. Readers feel a personal tie to the poems that
would be missing if any other writing style had been used. For example, in “Barbie
Doll,” Piercy switches back and forth, using words such as “pee-pee” and then “dexterity” (2, 9). This shows the juvenile innocence of the subject as well as her position in
which she was forced to lose that innocence and make a decision that no child should
have to make: whether or not she wants to keep or take her life. Piercy ironically and
satirically describes puberty as magical and then backs this up with evidence that is
anything but. The only thing that changed for the subject once she hit puberty was the attained knowledge of her physical inadequacies and her peers' capabilities to attack her
with such knowledge. Piercy further concludes the poem with everyone exclaiming
how pretty the girl is in her casket and the lines “Consummation at last. / To every
woman a happy ending” (24-25). This is a bitter and facetious ending to a tragic poem.
Piercy uses similar dark humor in “What Are Big Girls Made Of?” When referring to
dogs lacking the curse that humans possess of judging physical attributes in extreme
measures, the speaker uses informal phrasing such as:
they sniff noses. They sniff asses.
They bristle or lick. They fall
in love as often as we do,
as passionately. (57-60)
The modernized speech helps the reader better connect with the poem, while the
simplicity of the words carries heavy meaning. Piercy questions the possibility of a
time in which women will stop viewing their bodies as “science projects,” or “gardens
to be weeded,” or “dogs to be trained”(79-81). On the surface, these analogies do not
have much depth, but their very simplicity makes them so much more tangible. These
daily American images should not depict how women should treat their bodies. The
speaker scorns society for punishing one another for physical deficiencies, whether
controllable or not, saying “as if to have a large ass / were worse than being greedy or
mean?” (76-77). How is it that, in our society, choosing the wrong clothing to wear is
looked down upon more so than being rude or hateful?
Both “Barbie Doll” and “What Are Big Girls Made Of?” reflect on society's
disgusting mistreatment of women lacking the physical attributes Americans deem
appealing. Even with the gap in time between the writing of the two poems, the issues
of physical inadequacies are always present and always deeply impacting. In both of her
poems, Piercy uses heartbreaking comparisons of her subjects to popular manufactured
goods, she uses detailed imagery in order to allow readers to envision the tragic strains
of her subjects, and she uses an informal and satirical diction that further connects the
readers to the speaker. The poems contain the excruciating truths of what women have
always endured when not accepted by society, or in order to be accepted by society, and
to what lengths they may go to escape the condescending hatred of peers. Whether the
escape be plastic surgery or death, both are equal tragedies when used to flee one's self.
27
Works Cited
Evans, Casey Garland. "A Real Woman in a Barbie World." Dalton State. N.p. Spring
2003. Web. 3 Apr. 2010.
McManus, Terry. "Marge Piercy - Biography." Marge Piercy. Marge Piercy. 2005. Web.
3 Apr. 2010.
Piercy, Marge. "Barbie Doll." Literature, Reading, Reacting, Writing. Ed. Laurie G.
Kirszner and Stephen R. Mandell. Compact 7th ed. Boston: Wadsworth Cengage
Learning, 2010. 1048. Print.
---. "What Are Big Girls Made Of?" Poem Hunters. PoemHunter.com. N. d. Web. 3 Apr.
2010.
28
B R YA N G . T R I B B L E
Dante’s Inferno and the Nature of Sin
Dante uses the contrapasso, or counter penalty, as the punishment for sinners
in each of the circles of Hell. Because the contrapasso is somehow related to the sin
committed on Earth “every punishment is an allegory of the evil and unrepentant life
the sufferer actually lived” (Gilbert 74). The punishment is intended to reflect in some
way the damage that is wrought by committing the sin, and it often goes beyond the
damage that is done to the sinner by sinning and also inflicts a punishment that takes
into account the damage inflicted on society and others by carrying out the sinful act.
Three contrapassos that reflect the allegorical and broader nature of the effects of the
sin are those devised for suicides, Simonists and traitors to guests.
Theologians and philosophers who Dante admires, including Aristotle and St.
Thomas Aquinas greatly influenced his work. The contrapasso as divine justice draws
particularly from Aquinas, who believed that justice came through a sort of counterpunishment “since it is just that he who has been too indulgent to his will, should suffer something against his will, for thus will equality be restored” (Aquinas 4636).
In the second ring of the seventh circle of Hell, Dante finds those who have
committed suicide. They have been deprived of their earthly bodies and appear only as
trees; Pier della Vigna, one of the trees, explains to Dante, “We once were men and
now are arid stumps” (XIII.37). The trees are unable to speak except through the blood
that oozes from them when a leaf or branch has been broken off.
Those who commit suicide here are evidently only those who profess Christianity
because other pagan historical figures who have committed suicide, like Cleopatra and
Dido, appear in other parts of the Inferno. The medieval Catholic Church itself strongly
condemned suicide as “an attempt to cut short the term of life allotted by God, a crime
of insubordination against the Creator” (Grandgent 60). This connection with Christianity gives a strong basis for the disembodiment that the sinner suffers since The Bible itself, in I Corinthians 3.17, says that “if any man defile the temple of God, him shall God
destroy.” If “the temple of God” is the body then those who commit suicide are forfeiting the use of that temple by turning it against itself, and they are thus turned into something non-corporeal in Hell as a fitting contrapasso.
This forfeiture of control over one’s self even extends to one’s position in the
second ring of the seventh circle, as explained by della Vigna:
When the savage spirit quits
the body from which it has torn itself,
then Minos sends it to the seventh maw.
It falls into the wood, and there’s no place
to which it is allotted, but wherever
fortune has flung that soul, that is the space
where, even as a grain of spelt, it sprouts. (XIII.93-99)
Finally, the trees can speak only through their blood. This is a fitting punishment
because many who commit suicide are using their death to finally say something about
their internal struggle, often catalogued through a letter left to loved ones. In the after29
life they have been deprived of the ability to speak of their own free will, an ability
which they enjoyed in life on Earth but failed to take advantage of in order to air their
grievances. Now they can only speak after being attacked by the Harpies that fly through
the forest, an act that not only causes them pain but also is entirely beyond their control.
Next, in the third pouch of the eighth circle, Dante finds the Simonists, those
who have sold religious objects or offices for personal gain. The sinners here are found
upside down in burrows likened to a type of medieval baptismal font found in Dante’s
time. Dante indicates that the Simonists make a mockery of their religious office,
“Rapacious ones, who take the things of God, / that ought to be the brides of
Righteousness, / and make them fornicate for gold and silver!” (XIX.2-4). The act is “a
perversion of the holy matrimony conventionally posited between Christ (groom) and
the church (bride)” (Raffa 91).
That the sinners are found upside-down shows that there is a reversal of their
intended role; the Simonists chose to serve their own material needs at the expense of
the spiritual needs of those that they were meant to be serving. By plugging up the
baptismal font they are likened to be in, they are preventing the grace of salvation from
being bestowed upon others, as well as themselves, or, as Dante puts it, “your avarice
afflicts the world: / it tramples on the good, lifts up the wicked” (XIX.104-105).
Finally, in the third ring of the ninth circle, called Ptolomea after one of its
famous inhabitants, Dante finds the traitors to guests. These are sinners who have
betrayed those who accepted an invitation or interacted with the sinner under the
assumption of hospitality and neutrality by murdering them. Dante seems to take
particular exception to these types of sinners because they are immediately condemned
to Hell upon carrying out their sins and prevented from seeking forgiveness and penitence. Though the bodies of these traitors are still alive on Earth, their soul is sent immediately to Hell, and it is replaced by a demon on Earth. In a way, this highlights the
inhumanity of their actions by forcing them to forfeit the thing that makes them most
recognizably human: their human body.
Like all the sinners in this circle, the actions of the traitors to guests are seen
as inhumane and cold-blooded. Allan Gilbert claims, “The sinners in this pit have
departed as far from natural human feelings and obligations as is possible for man”
(109). This cold-blooded nature is reflected in the contrapasso because they all find
themselves encased almost entirely in the frozen waters of the river Cocytus. Everything
about them is made so cold and unforgiving that even their tears, the one method
through which they could grieve for their actions, freeze and seal their eyes shut to
prevent more crying.
Dante effectively uses the contrapasso as punishment to highlight that sins are
eternal. Committing them in life does not simply mean that they are committed and
forgotten; instead, they live on eternally as punishment for the sinner in the afterlife.
And not only is the sinner forced to relive the nature of their sin over and over again
through the contrapasso, they are also made to realize and experience in many instances
the effects their sin has had on others.
30
Works Cited
Aquinas, Thomas. Summa Theologica. Raleigh: Hayes Barton Press, 2006. Print.
Alighieri, Dante. The Inferno. The Norton Anthology of World Literature. Ed. Sarah
Lawall and Maynard Mack. Vol. B. 2nd ed. New York: WW Norton, 2008. 18431870. Print.
The Bible. Print. King James Vers.
Gilbert, Allan H. Dante’s Conception of Justice. New York: AMS Press, 1971. Print.
Grandgent, Charles H. Companion to The Divine Comedy. Cambridge: Harvard
University Press, 1975. Print.
Raffa, Guy. Danteworlds. Chicago: University Of Chicago Press, 2007. Print.
31
P E N N Y D AV I S R I G G S
Looking Down the Tracks
Ernest Hemingway’s “Hills Like White Elephants” is a short story focusing
on a couple divided by an unwanted pregnancy. The man, who is afraid of losing his
freedom, and a pregnant girl, who faces a decision that threatens their way of life, are
revealed to the reader mostly through dialogue. Hemingway's use of symbolism reveals
the pain and doubt facing the couple's decision. Both characters are seemingly trying
to be well-mannered about the subject of the abortion, which is telling of their relationship and the light-heartedness that has been the main theme until recent events. The
man uses the pet name, “Jig,” as an attempt to get her to soften to him and lead her into
a sense of comfort with him. However, the uncertainties of the abortion, if the girl will
have the baby, and if she will stay with “the American” regardless of her choice, are constantly present and never resolved. The hills, the drinks, and the location of the story
test the reader’s powers of observation and ability to interpret the simplicity of
symbolism. The selfish nature of the American, and his desire for Jig to continue the relationship, evokes empathy from the reader. Hemingway uses almost everything in the
descriptive passages between the dialogue as a symbolic representation of the couple's relationship, creating a sense of ambiguity for his readers that leaves them wanting more.
Thus, Hemingway uses symbolism for literary interpretation, characterization to reveal
the nature of the couple's relationship, and dialogue to propel the story forward.
The symbols in the story are everywhere and can be interpreted in a variety of
ways. The symbolism in “Hills Like White Elephants” starts at Jig's first mention of the
hills: “‘They look like white elephants,’ she said. ‘I’ve never seen one,’ the man drank
his beer. 'No you wouldn’t have'" (Hemingway 146). This observation by Jig and the
man’s lack of response and interest in her comment immediately set up the tension
between the couple. Upon Jig's first mentioning of the hills, the audience is unaware of
the conflict facing the couple; therefore, the beginning of the story seems representative of something secretive. In his literary criticism, “Hemingway Hills: Symbolism in
‘Hills Like White Elephants,’” Lewis E. Weeks, Jr. surmises:
On first reading the title, one assumes the comparison may merely be
to the color and to the rounded contour of the hills that constitute part
of the setting, a quite literal reference. This impression is reinforced
by the first sentence, the subject of which is “long and white” hills. The
second time they are mentioned, they are contrasted with the countryside,
which is brown and dry, suggestive of the limitations and aridity of the
relationship of the man and woman, which begins to unfold and which
is the basis of the conflict and the meaning of the story. (75)
The true nature of the symbolism reveals itself as the story progresses, and many
references and interpretations of the hills are brought to mind. The couple is under the
strain of a relationship that has been dealt a hand, which neither of them expected.
Hemingway paints a picture of the landscape that surrounds the station and allows the
reader to conjure multiple meanings in the description. On one side, the Ebro has “no
shade and no trees”; while in the distance, there are “hills, long and white” (Heming32
way 145). Weeks refers to the comparison of the hills and white elephants in his essay,
“… as we see the conflict over the unborn child develop and as we recall that the actual white elephant is a rarity in nature, considered sacred and precious, and revered and
protected” (76). This is so telling of how Jig feels about the pregnancy. She is carrying
something “precious” that she feels should be “protected.”
Hemingway’s symbolism implies that Jig is trying to distract herself and the
man by asking questions and requesting drinks. He writes, “The girl looked at the bead
curtain. ‘They’ve painted something on it,’ she said. ‘What does it say?’”(Hemingway
146). This is symbolic as well of how the girl has something to say but cannot bring herself to communicate it to the man. Much like the tiny indecipherable lettering on the curtain that is in a language foreign to her, so are Jig's thoughts regarding the abortion. As
soon as the American informs her that the lettering is a name of a drink on the curtain,
she wants to “try it” (Hemingway 146). Jig is making an attempt to have something
else to talk about, or something else upon which to focus. Her wanting to try something new is also symbolic of Jig's desire to have the baby. She wants to “try it,” too.
The beaded curtain also provides the couple a sense of isolation from the waiting passengers inside the bar. It separates them outside and allows them to feel free to discuss
the taboo subject. Furthermore, in “The Use of Pragmatic Politeness Theory in the Interpretation of Hemingway's 'Hills Like White Elephants,’” Enrique Lafuente Millán argues, “‘Jig’ (the woman), chooses to flout his dispraise and to turn it against him, but
then quickly changes her tactics when he turns defensive. She grants him his desire for
power by asking him about the words on the bead curtain, thus recognizing his superior
knowledge and his role as an expert, an obvious positive politeness strategy” (75). This
sort of play goes back and forth between both characters as they attempt to get what they
want, but remain polite and not cause more obvious conflict. The girl distracts herself
as well as the man by asking about things and mentioning the scenery. She is afraid of
losing what they have now, even though she longs for it to be more.
The new “drink” that the couple is going to try is absinthe, which has a flavor
of licorice. Hemingway’s use of this flavor seems significant because absinthe has a
very strong, distinct taste which cannot be ignored, much like Jig's pregnancy:
“It tastes like licorice,” the girl said and put the glass down.
“That’s the way with everything.”
“Yes,” said the girl. “Everything tastes of licorice. Especially all of
the things you’ve waited so long for like absinthe.”
“Oh cut it out.” (Hemingway 146)
This exchange between the couple implies that Jig is ready for a difference in her life.
She seems disappointed and disillusioned with the taste, which possibly mirrors how
she feels about their relationship. In addition, Weeks makes an observation about their
drinking in his essay, stating, “The implication as to the casualness and triviality of
their lives, in which drinks are of such importance, and the further ironic implication
in the bitterness of absinthe, with its wormwood basis, is made apparent” (76). Weeks’
mention of the bitterness is symbolic of how Jig may be feeling towards the American.
Weeks further makes note of “the black color of licorice and how it contrasts with the
white of the hills” (76). The colors black and white are symbolic of the good girl/bad
girl syndrome the relationship is causing for Jig. In “Letting the Air into a Relationship:
33
Metaphorical Abortion in ‘Hills Like White Elephants,’” David Wyche interprets the decision facing the couple:
We are unsure, and can only speculate about the tangible outcome –
abortion or childbirth – of what we have witnessed. We can be more
certain that we have seen the termination of the couple's relationship, a
metaphorical abortion. Whatever Jig's decision, the love affair, such
as it is, cannot continue. It is the figurative womb into which air is
let, and by the end of the story it is as arid and empty as the Spanish
countryside. (58)
The relationship is doomed to fail, because the decision will always be unresolved, and
there will be a bitter taste in her mouth each time Jig remembers what she has done
and why. The resentment will be too much for the couple to be able to sustain a
relationship. Since both parties will feel resentful, no matter the decision, there will be
no amicable solution.
The symbolism in the story is influenced by understanding things that are said
and things that are not said between the couple. The reference to “two” is seen over and
over again and is therefore symbolic of unity. In the essay, “Leitmotif and Irony in
Hemingway's ‘Hills Like White Elephants,’” Reid Maynard reveals the symbolism in
not only the setting, but also the use of “two”:
The description of the station's position between the two railway lines
subtly introduces the leitmotif of “two,” to be reiterated in the story,
but in this single instance “two” appears in an image of division or
separation and suggests the actual state of the lovers; i.e., it is not an
ironic “two.” “Two” in “two minutes” is unobtrusively reiterated and
prepares the way for the oneness, or unity, images of “two” which follow. All of these oneness or unity images operate ironically in the
story, for they suggest a kind of life (symbolized by the river, mountains, and fields) which is the direct opposite of the life now being experienced by the couple. (274)
This is an example of how the couple is feeling about the relationship and of what they
once had. They were once lovers traveling the European continent, and now they are a
couple of people with different views and desires. They no longer feel united on anything, especially considering their current situation.
The two characters in Hemingway’s story are both struggling in their own
ways. Both feel a sense of isolation and a fear of the unknown outcome of their
relationship, because of the unexpected pregnancy. However, the American in the story
comes across as selfish and manipulative in seeking to get his way. He wants Jig to
have the abortion and uses their relationship and happiness as a bargaining tool to get
her to go ahead with the procedure. Hemingway writes, “’It’s really an awfully simple
operation Jig,’ the man said. 'It’s really not an operation at all’” (147). The American
is, in essence, attempting to suggest that the procedure is uncomplicated and makes
light of the situation. In fact, Millán points out the selfish nature of the man: “Through
his choice of words he imposes his own image of the abortion on her, presenting it in
a way she may be able to cope with in spite of her moral scruples and in that way, I repeat, making it a less weighty imposition. His words are in fact a bending of reality
exclusively to fit his needs” (140). The American wants Jig to feel the way he does
34
about the abortion and will use whatever tactic he can to achieve his goal, and thus he
hides his motives. It is simple to him, though the American insists that it is ultimately
Jig's choice, all the while trying to convince her how much better things will be between them if she has the abortion. This is the epitome of failure on his part. The American claims, “But I don’t want anybody but you. I don’t want any one else”
(Hemingway148). He implies that he wants it to be just the two of them, with no baby,
no responsibility, and no third party. This lackadaisical attitude toward their child, Jig's
fear, her loss, and her apprehension concerning the abortion has made Jig's lust for life
and the enjoyment of their relationship seem as distant as the white hills.
Ironically, the word “abortion” is never used in the story; this is a major
example of how taboo the subject matter is to the characters and for the time period in
which it was written. The termination is clearly not something either of them wants to
speak directly about, as if saying it aloud would make it seem too real. Jig openly struggles with the decision she is being asked to make and does not feel like she is truly in
control of her choice. Hemingway makes this clear when he writes, “The girl looked
at the ground the table legs rested on. ‘I know you wouldn’t mind it Jig. It’s really not
anything. It’s just to let the air in.’ The girl did not say anything” (147). She does not
look at the American or say anything intimating how helpless she feels against his
wishes. However, Wyche gives a graphic interpretation of what the girl is feeling: “her
silence speaks volumes. As the more ‘grounded’ of the two, she knows that the mechanical dilation of the cervix, causing the uterus to spontaneously void itself, followed by
curettage, a scraping procedure, is far from ‘perfectly natural’” (58). This observation
brings into focus the severity of the procedure and what Jig is really giving up by giving into him. The American suggests that they will breathe easier once the procedure
is performed, assuring her that they will “be fine afterward” (Hemingway 147). Questioning his certainty and giving the reader another glimpse of her doubt, Jig asks him
flatly, “What makes you think so?” (Hemingway 147). The fact that neither of them
ever says the word “abortion” is another way in which the couple stifles their emotions.
The word holds such weight, power and truth that they avoid using the word.
Jig, therefore, struggles to make a decision that will affect herself, her lover and
the child that she is carrying. Though she is more passive, she still has not agreed to the
American’s desire for her to terminate the pregnancy. She, clearly, would rather her
lover want the child and seek a life with her that is more substantial and meaningful.
At one point in the story, she seems completely hopeless and claims that she cares about
his happiness and not her own. She states, "Then I’ll do it. Because I don’t care about
me" (Hemingway147). This statement is Jig's attempt to get a caring response from her
lover. She wants to hear and feel that he really does care for her. In “Staking Everything
on It: A Stylistic Analysis of Linguistic Patterns in ‘Hills Like White Elephants,’” Alex
Link examines the speech patterns and power positions in the story:
Jig always articulates her desires as requests, using forms of the modal
terms “could" and "would." The text depicts the couple's relationship as
one in which the man is positioned as an authority, and Jig's questions both
challenge that authority and seek reassurance from it. Hence the polarity
of her questions--the man defines what is true, correct, or permissible by
answering “yes” or “no.” (68-69)
This allows the American to further manipulate Jig in subtle ways and achieve his main
35
objective. He wants her to go along with his plan, yet make her feel like it is her choice:
“Well,” the man said, “if you don’t want to you don’t have to. I
wouldn’t have you do it if you didn’t want to. But I know it’s perfectly simple.”
“And you really want to?”
“I think it’s the best thing to do. But I don’t want you to do it if
you don’t really want to.”
“And if I do it you’ll be happy and things will be like they were
and you’ll love me?”
“I love you now. You know I love you.”
“I know. But if I do it, then it will be nice again if I say things are
like white elephants, and you’ll like it?”
“I’ll love it. I love it now but I just can’t think about it. You know
how I get when I worry.” (Hemingway 147)
Hemingway then allows the reader to feel Jig's melancholy and longing for a different
life when he writes, “[S]he saw the river through the trees. 'And we could have all this,'
she said. 'And we could have everything and every day we make it more impossible'"
(148). The river is symbolic of Jig's desire for the fertility of life, and the river in the
distance, which flows easily and strongly, causes her to feel their relationship could be
made stronger. Furthermore, the water is symbolic of the emotion flowing strong within
her, emotions Jig will most certainly keep to herself for now, but will subsequently be
too strong for the relationship to survive. The American and Jig are not the sort of couple who has to deal with the pressures of life on a daily basis. They drink and travel,
and until recently have been enjoying their freedom to do so. However, this is all
threatened if Jig has the baby.
Jig sees the pregnancy as a means to have a more meaningful relationship with
the American. In her literary criticism, “Making Modern Parents in Ernest Hemingway's ‘Hills Like White Elephants’ and Viña Delmar's Bad Girl”, Meg Gillette observes
the evasiveness of both parties: “on the rare occasion that a character does speak more
candidly of their emotions, their emotionalism escalates the conflict by eliciting the
other's obtuse and insufferable demands” (59). Hemingway has created two characters
who are conflicted, who seek a resolution, but want the other to decide. This struggle
is addressed by Gillette: “the conflict proceeds through a series of reversals: when he
says yes to the abortion, she says no; when she says yes to the abortion, he says no” (62).
The American wants Jig to give him a definite answer, and the girl wants him to eventually come around and want the child. She wants him to realize the permanence of the
abortion and the repercussions it will have on them. Hemingway implies this when Jig
says, “And once they take it away, you never get it back” (148). They both know the
other’s true desire, yet they are being “polite” and keeping their own desires secret.
Each character is on opposite sides and cannot be direct enough with each other to actually cross over to other person's side.
Providing an element of secretiveness in regard to their predicament, the couple is positioned outside of the train station's barroom away from the other people. The
American will actually walk through the barroom, as if he desires a feeling of normalcy
that he presumes the others inside encompass. Hemingway concludes, “He drank his
36
anis at the bar and looked at the people. They were all waiting reasonably for the train”
(149). The use of the word “reasonably” hints that the American possibly feels anxious, or that he may view Jig as being unreasonable. The couple is isolated because
they are considering doing something that many people feel is immoral. Hemingway
uses
imagery as a way to make the situation real, uncomfortable and thought-provoking as well as symbolic. Hemingway also uses imagery to increase the tension between the couple and allows for the reader to further explore its symbolism. As Wyche
indicates, "The American's looking down the tracks, straining to glimpse a future moving toward him as inexorably as the approaching train, which certainly indicates a degree of
uneasiness on his part, as does his stopping to have another drink, alone,
before returning to Jig.” The train and the station indicate not only movement and transportation to another place, but serve also as a distraction or a change of scenery for
the couple. The man has convinced himself and is trying to convince the girl that they
will yield a happy outcome if she sides with him. He states, “We can have everything"
to which she replies, “No, we can’t,” and still he urges, “We can have the whole world”
(Hemingway 148).
In addition, the lack of enjoyment of their time together is felt by the reader.
For example, the labels on the bags (Hemingway 148) are images of a time when they
were carefree and traveled freely, before the pregnancy, when they were able to actually enjoy the scenery, their drinks and comment on them without suppressing emotions. In his critical essay, Maynard views the outside imagery as symbolic:
The man and the girl are appropriately positioned on a sterile, wasteland
plain with “no shade and no trees.” In the distance are objects that are
symbolic of a sensuous, fertile, pure, natural life: “Across, on the other
side, were fields of grain and trees along the banks of the Ebro. Far
away, beyond the river, were mountains.” The mountains and the river
and the fields of grain are as far removed from the railway station café
as the man's and girl's present strained relationship is as removed
from their past close relationship. (273)
These images suggest that the distant future is more comfortable than the present, but
will not relieve the pain the couple now feels. Hemingway uses dialogue to give the
sense of urgency Jig feels for some relief: “Would you please, please, please, please,
please, please, please stop talking?” The statement follows with Jig threatening to
scream if he doesn’t (148). The imagery of the life across from where the couple is sitting, having drinks, and doing the same things they have always done gives a sense of
longing and sadness. Maynard continues, “When the girl wistfully views the distant
scene, ‘the shadow of a cloud’ moves 'across the field of grain’ and distorts the purity
of her
nostalgic vision, bringing her thoughts back to the sordid present” (273).
The images of the hills can be seen as many different things and evoke a myriad of
feelings. Weeks asserts that the hills represent “the fully pregnant woman, nude and
probably lying on her back with her distended belly virtually bursting with life and with
her breasts,
engorged by the approaching birth, making a trinity of white hills” (76).
The symbolism in the imagery works to create a vivid picture of a difficult situation and
is possibly what Jig sees when she looks out at the hills herself. She feels alive because
37
of the baby and desires to create something meaningful with the man she loves.
Hemingway shaped a story in which everything works together to create a realistic and effective situational scenario any couple could face. The girl and her lover
each seeks a resolution to a problem, knowing that, whatever the decision, things will
never be the same between them. The American, who clearly has the emotional upperhand in the story, will not settle. According to Link, “The subject of the argument may
well be the ambiguous violence of an abortion, but the man's struggle to win Jig's capitulation is far more violent, here. It takes precedence over anything the object of their
struggle might be since, in the end, what he wants is the power to have everything”
(71). The reader must speculate as to what “everything” is to the man. To a woman, having everything typically includes a family. However, regardless of the final outcome
and decision made, their relationship is forever changed and will no longer be the light
easy thing it once was. Their travel without a care, trying of new drinks, and interactions with each other will be clouded with images of the place and time when a lifechanging decision will haunt them. In the end there is still no actual answer to the
question of the abortion, if she will agree to it, or whether or not the couple will stay
together, leaving the reader to come to his or her own conclusion as to fate of the relationship.
38
Works Cited
Gillette, Meg "Making Modern Parents in Ernest Hemingway's 'Hills Like White
Elephants' and Viña Delmar's Bad Girl." Modern Fiction Studies 53.1 (Spring
2007): 50-69. Literature Resource Center. Web. 4 Oct. 2009.
Hemingway, Ernest. "Hills Like White Elephants." Literature, Reading, Reacting,
Writing. Ed. Laurie G. Kirszner & Stephen R. Mandell. Compact 7th ed. Mason,
OH: Cengage Learning, 2009. 145-149. Print.
Link, Alex. "Staking Everything on It: A Stylistic Analysis of Linguistic Patterns in
'Hills Like White Elephants.'" The Hemingway Review 23.2 (Spring 2004): 66-74.
Literature Resource Center. Web. 4 Oct. 2009.
Maynard, Reid. “Leitmotif and Irony in Hemingway's 'Hills Like White Elephants.'" The
University Review 37.4 (Summer 1971): 273-275. Literature Resource Center.
Web. 4 Oct. 2009.
Millán, Enrique Lafuente. "The Use of Pragmatic Politeness Theory in the Interpretation
of Hemingway's 'Hills Like White Elephants.'" Miscelánea 21 (2000): 137-147.
Rpt in Short Story Criticism. Ed. Jelena O. Krstovic. Vol. 117. Detroit: Gale,
2009. Literature Resource Center. Web. 4 Oct. 2009.
Weeks, Lewis E., Jr. “Hemingway Hills: Symbolism in 'Hills Like White Elephants.’”
Studies in Short Fiction 17.1 (Winter 1980): 75-77. Literature Resource Center.
Web. 4 Oct. 2009.
Wyche, David. “Letting the Air into a Relationship: Metaphorical Abortion in ‘Hills Like
White Elephants.’” The Hemingway Review 22.1 (Fall 2002): 58-74. Literature
Resource Center. Web. 4 Oct. 2009.
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K AT H Y J A C U Z Z I F L U H A R T Y
Turn that Noise Down
Technology has effectively erased the boundaries that once defined and
compartmentalized people's lives. Work was once work; home was once home; play was
once play. Today, communications and entertainment devices blur the lines separating
work, family, and leisure. The noises emitted by the devices that were once designed to
simplify tasks now prevent humans from hearing themselves think. Noise must be
controlled or it will be the controller. What could be accomplished if the noise was turned
off? Almost any goal could be achieved more satisfactorily. Virtually any task could be
completed more quickly. Practically any mission could be met more expeditiously. To
accomplish an objective more efficiently, the decibel level must be dialed back.
Noise can be defined as anything that distracts attention and inhibits progress
toward a goal. Noise comes in innumerable varieties: doorbells, voice mail, crying
babies, someone else’s priority, phones, text messages, and Twitter. Some noise is not
even audible: money troubles, disease, lack of education, the weather, procrastination,
and daydreaming. Some noise is new to this generation. Never before has so much
information been so accessible 24/7 as it is today. The electronics that keep people
connected, not only to each other but also to the pulse of our planet, have fostered a new
dependence on connectedness. Especially since the 9/11 disaster when people tuned to
the news around the clock, our society has become conditioned to “hearing it first and
hearing it fast.”
Text messages carry news so fast that people often hear the latest news long before they see an actual television broadcast or newspaper article covering the event.
Who needs Homeland Security to issue an elevated alert? Society keeps itself on high
alert without the warning system. Tweets on Twitter inform readers (followers?) of the
most trivial and banal happenings in the life of the sender (twit?). It is understandable
that the one Webster's definition of twitter is “to talk in a rapid, tremulous manner
expressive of agitation” (“Twitter”). Has anything substantive been communicated by
a twitter or a tweet? How much of a distraction is all the agitation?
Likewise, social networking sites like Facebook and Myspace play a huge role
in how people stay in touch. Like Twitter, they allow users to observe the lives of others through a digital window. The one-way-window view permits a weird sort of
voyeurism like that of a peeping Tom, but with little chance of anything but asynchronous contact. The noisiness is space and time. Perhaps relationships would benefit from
a renewal of networking involving shared space.
Meanwhile, television consumes increasing hours of the nation’s time, with
little to show for the investment. Researchers have found, however, that “the actual
enjoyment of television consumption has gone down markedly in the past few decades,
while the consumption itself has not” (Hohlbaum 20). So why do people spend so much
time on something they don’t enjoy and that provides no real benefit? Perhaps it is
because technology not only robs them of their time, but also of their creativity and
ability to entertain themselves.
Cell phones are also a part of everyday life now. It is not unusual for there to
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be cell phones in use in places that were once considered “quiet zones.” Hospital rooms,
libraries, theaters, churches, and restaurants were once places where quiet, peace, and
dignity were protected. Not anymore. Cellular networks cover the most remote locations.
Cell service is with us nearly everywhere. There seems to be no place to escape the
constant cellular clamor. As Christine Hohlbaum states, “While the term ‘cell phone’
has gradually slipped into our vocabulary, there’s yet another reason why it’s called a
cell phone – as if we’re in a jail cell, we often feel incarcerated by it” (36).
People have become comfortable with their technology tethers, so comfortable that when they are “unhooked” it feels unnatural. Passengers on airplanes keep an
eye trained on the signal lights that allow them to reconnect. When the light changes,
it is like the green flag waving at Daytona: fast fingers start dialing for the latest update.
In another example, text messaging has become such an inherent part of a student’s
communications that the day may be coming when the classroom teacher’s test-day
instructions not only include “put away the books, get out a piece of paper and a pencil,” but also “devices down and thumbs on the desk.”
Electronic devices have imposed multitasking on almost everyone. Sometimes
that helps people get more done in less time, but often it creates interruptions that slow
progress. Around the house, it makes sense for the washing machine to buzz with a
reminder that it has completed its cycle and has a load of clothes ready for the dryer or
clothesline. That allows the domestic engineer to be doing other chores without having to
keep a watchful eye on the laundry. In this situation, multi-tasking enhances productivity.
On the other hand, the constant pinging, beeping, or outburst of song that notifies an office worker that yet another email has arrived can be a counterproductive interruption.
It is probably not necessary to stop every time the notification sounds, but often that is
what happens. In his book Turn it Off, Gil Gordon says, “We confused speed of delivery with speed of action” (33). Just because a message is delivered over a high-speed
medium, does not make it urgent.
Notably in Time Management for Dummies, an instant response is rarely
required, but in today’s rapid fire communications environment, a fifteen-minute delay
in responding often causes the sender to wonder if the message was received. Jeffery
J. Mayer claims that these interruptions can actually cause a loss of momentum that
may increase the time it takes for work to resume (72). Americans historically have
been praised for hard work and productivity. Multi-tasking feeds the urge to do more
in less time, but is it really working? Neuroscientist and director of the Human
Information Processing Laboratory at Vanderbilt University, Rene Marois is quoted in
a New York Times article as saying that our “core limitation is an inability to concentrate on two things at once’” (Hohlbaum 31). If this is true, multi-tasking (or the attempt
thereof) may be doing no more than causing angst and frustration.
So what could be accomplished better without all the noise? Reading a book
in peace would allow better comprehension and understanding of the author’s message.
Making fresh caramel sauce without interruption would ensure a higher quality product without the bitter aftertaste that permeates sugar cooked too long. Climbing all 54
of Colorado’s 14,000-foot mountains could be accomplished in a shorter time period if
getting an education did not interrupt the journey. Writing music might happen more
readily if someone else’s music wasn’t constantly blaring. Teaching a child to ride a bike
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could be more fun if there was no interference from a tweet or a text. Creativity might
flourish if the constant flow of “entertainment” was unplugged. Thinking and reflecting would become more prevalent in calm surroundings, and who knows what wonderful insight or inventiveness or life-saving discoveries might grow out of that.
In the parable, Our Iceberg is Melting, an entire society of penguins might
have perished had it not been for one who took the time to watch what was going on
around them. The authors state, “Fred was unusually curious and observant” (Kotter and
Rathgeber 9). The iceberg where they lived was in jeopardy, but everyone was too busy
to notice. Fred was not like the rest of the penguins. Kotter and Rathgeber elaborate, “He frequently went off by himself to take notes on what he had observed” (9).
Because he disengaged from all the activity, he was able to study what was going on
right under everyone’s feet.
Noise of all kinds fills the surroundings and permeates people to the very core.
Some noise is joyful and harmless, even fun, but noise that distracts and causes lack of
focus on an objective needs to be controlled. Lofty goals will be more attainable when
quiet aids concentration. Shhhhhhh! People need to think! Turn that noise down.
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Works Cited
Gordon, Gil. Turn It Off. New York: Three Rivers Press, 2001. Print.
Hohlbaum, Christine Louise. The Power of Slow. New York: St. Martin’s Press, 2009.
Print.
Kotter, John and Holger Rathgeber. Our Iceberg Is Melting. New York: St. Martin’s
Press, 2005. Print.
Mayer, Jeffery J. Time Management for Dummies. 2nd ed. Foster City: IDG Books
Worldwide, 1999. Print.
“Twitter.” Webster’s New World Dictionary. 2nd College ed. 1980. Print.
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CONTRIBUTOR NOTES
J. Renee' Baker is currently a student at Pulaski Technical College working towards
a double major in Psychology and American Sign Language with a minor in English. She
is a wife, mother, and school teacher who enjoys teaching and interacting with her two
teenage boys while accompanying them on their journey into the world of knowledge.
Stefani Chaney attended Pulaski Technical from 2008-10. She is currently pursuing a
Bachelor’s in English at Arizona State University. Aside from literature, her greatest
passions in life are taking care of her cats and playing her guitar.
James Dunlap is currently a student at the University of Arkansas at Fayetteville,
majoring in Creative Writing. He received his Associate's of Art from Pulaski Technical
College in May 2011. He enjoys reading in his spare time.
Kathy Jacuzzi Fluharty is a current student at Pulaski Technical College.
Roxanne Nichole Litchholt is a current student at Pulaski Tech and plans to pursue a
degree in business with a concentration in real estate finance. She lives in Sherwood
with her American Bulldog KC and works at Flake & Kelley Commercial. She is an
active volunteer with AFS (American Field Services) a foreign exchange student
organization. She enjoys reading, going to the lake, gardening, bird watching, and
enjoying time in the sun.
Lauren Morgan is a current student at Pulaski Technical College.
Penny Davis Riggs is a current student at Pulaski Technical College.
As a nontraditional student, Judith Spradling completed her associate degree with
Pulaski Tech in 2011. She is currently enrolled at the University of Arkansas at Little
Rock pursuing a double major in English and technical writing with an emphasis in
creative writing. She resides in North Little Rock with her husband and two daughters
and is in the process of becoming a child advocate with the Arkansas court system in
her spare time.
Bryan Tribble completed his coursework at Pulaski Tech in 2010 and now attends
Concord University in West Virginia, where he studies geography and international
development in sub-Saharan Africa. He lives in southern West Virginia and enjoys reading
and traveling. After graduate school, he will return to East Africa to continue working
with poverty alleviation organizations. Someday he hopes to teach global studies at the
high school level and cultivate a new generation of world citizens.
44
Milestones
2010
Volume 6
A Journal of Academic Writing
Pulaski Technical College
3000 West Scenic Drive • North Little Rock, AR 72118
www.pulaskitech.edu