Handmaid's Tale - Character Analysis

Up to this point in the story, Offred has been a very obviously unsympathetic character; she judges and mistrusts those around her and holds deep contempt for those with whom she is forced to accompany.  This is evident in her treatment of Ofglen and in her thoughts regarding Serena Joy and Rita, among others.  However, Offred has apparently become less cold and inhuman in the preceding chapters, evidenced heavily by her concentration on her past and her adjustment to her surroundings (she used the word ‘my’ to refer to her room). 

These slight developments continue and increase in this chapter; she dislikes the commander and is careful to use explicit language to describe his actions, contrasting them with those of her husband, Luke, and she has an illegal encounter with Nick while exploring the house, which is also forbidden.  These actions seem to show that she is becoming less adjusted to the new society and is devolving more and more into who she was before the change.

Handmaid's Tale - Essential Questions

Essential Questions

1)      How does the narrator describe Serena Joy?  What does this tell us about the narrator’s personality?

The narrator’s description of Serena Joy is extremely critical, and it shows just how much contempt the narrator holds for her.  She is described in contrast to what she did before the fall of civilization.  The narrator takes special interest in the fact that Serena Joy had been a gospel singer before society deteriorated, and that she had been an advocate for societal change.  The narrator is bitter when thinking about this, thinking, “you finally got what you want.”

2)      What do we learn about the narrator’s motivations from the doctor’s offer?

We now know that this society does away with women who are unable to conceive children, and we can analyze Offred with this in mind.  Her refusal to the doctor’s offer largely reveals Offred’s rebellious and free nature; even though she could be killed for failing to conceive, she will do it her way or not at all.  She’ll risk her life for what freedom she has left.

3)      How is the narrator affected by the loss of her child?  How does this change the way in which she is presented in this society?

The changes that we can see in the narrator resulting from the loss of her child are fairly drastic.  She has become extremely cold and withdrawn as a result of the event.  It also shows how cold the society has become, refusing to keep Offred and her daughter together and forcing Offred to bear additional children.

Handmaid's Tale - Passage Analysis

In the first several paragraphs of Chapter 2 of the Handmaid’s Tale, Margaret Atwood uses very dreary language and short, uninteresting sentences to convey a hopeless and depressing tone.  This tone matches perfectly with the subjects of these paragraphs.

The speaker begins by describing the room she occupies.  The descriptions – as well as the things within the room – are very uninteresting and dull.  These paragraphs are constructed with the most basic of sentences, giving a feeling of overpowering stillness and emptiness to the room.  This stillness gives the speaker a sense of desperation, as the only thing that she can do to break the stillness is to put her hands into the light.  Atwood does a terrific job of expressing the speaker’s emotions and forcing the reader to empathize; when she states that there is no glass covering pictures and nowhere to han a rope, the reader understands toward what she is hinting.  Moreover, the tone of the passage makes the reader wish that the room did contain glass, or ceiling fixtures.

The type of tone that the author expresses is doubly effective because she expresses the speaker’s discomfort in a very uncomfortable way.  Her use of language conveys the same feelings in the reader as what the speaker is feeling, herself.

Victorian times...

After finishing Oscar Wilde's The Importance of Being Earnest, as well as a collection of a few other stories from this time period, I think I can say fairly honestly that I'll miss these stories and this era in the coming months.
The Importance of Being Earnest was extremely well done.  It was one of the few works that we've read that focused almost entirely on humor, and it was certainly humorous.  Oscar Wilde's wit shines through the text as though he were soaking to us directly.  I actually imagined that it was literally Oscar Wilde talking to us as Algernon; their personalities seem to be a 1:1 match.
Likewise, the short stories that we read from Sherlock Holmes were phenomenal.  I was shocked to discover how closely the BBC Series Sherlock stayed to the original text, even taking jokes right from the stories.  It also updates the jokes to be more applicable to current times, but the humor present here is still quite relevant, even with such an enormous gap in time period.
Working with these stories has been a joy, and I'll be very sad to move on from them.  They've brought some much - needed laughs to our class, and I don't think that we're likely to find many laughs in The Handmaid's Tale or in Heart of Darkness.

Importance of Being Earnest - Theme and Characterization

            Oscar Wilde satirizes Victorian society in his play The Importance of Being Earnest.  He uses irony, hyperbole and juxtaposition to create a droll atmosphere and emphasize the issues of the Victorian society.            In act one, the arguments between Algernon and Jack contain plenty of irony.  Algernon tells Jack not to eat any of the cucumber sandwiches and proceeds to eat some, himself.  He advises Jack not to delve into literary criticism specifically because he has been to university, as opposed to those who “do it so well in the daily papers.”  He also tells Jack to be serious about meals, yet Algernon could not be considered serious about anything.  These events characterize Algernon, and he continues to present irony in this way throughout the play.  Irony is not the only important device in Act one, however.  Juxtaposition is used several times both in this act and others to compare marriage to unhappiness (or divorce to happiness).  Hyperbole is also present in Algernon and Jack’s discussion about their alternate identities, saying that they will (or won’t, in Algernon’s case) kill them, but the characters never even existed.  The play’s tone is established well through constant use of irony and juxtaposition, and neither the characters nor the play itself can be taken at face value.            Act two presents all of these devices again, especially when Algernon enters as Ernest, Jack’s younger brother.  Immediately, it is ironic that Ernest is presented to Jack’s acquaintances in this way, as Ernest never truly existed.  Cecily’s discussion with Algernon about marriage contains absurd amounts of irony: she intends to marry Ernest, having never met him, she has only now met Algernon, and Ernest never actually existed.  Her statements about marriage and why she broke off their engagement enforce the idea that marriage is neither serious nor pleasant.  Cecily and Gwendolyn are then juxtaposed in argument, showing that they have exactly the same problem and highlighting the ways in which they are similar and different.  This is also dramatically ironic, as they are arguing over Ernest, who the audience knows was never real.            The final act reveals the fact that due to the loss of Miss Prism’s bag Jack was separated from his parents; he is actually Algernon’s brother named Ernest.  The irony here (as well as in Ernest’s last line) is overwhelming, as the Ernest that the audience thought was imaginary and Cecily assumed had been real was actually Jack all along.  Gwendolyn knew him as Ernest, but he’d genuinely told her that it was merely an alternate identity.  Algernon and Ernest had also intended to be christened, but now, ironically, do not need to be.  There is no small amount of hyperbole in this act, either.  Lady Bracknell provides verbose passages full of this, stating at one point that the air must be drugged for so many engagements to take place.
            Every character in the play served a specific satirical purpose.  Whether they contributed to the play with ironic statements or whimsical behavior is irrelevant.  Through the use of these devices, Oscar Wilde created a play that cannot be taken seriously.

The Tree

The lonely tree stands still. In young summers,
I'd run along its massive roots and hang
Beneath it's sturdy branches. Flowers bloomed
Amidst its shaded base. It's undergrowth
Could house our lives; its branches still could hold
Any heaven we could imagine.

And now, those heavens crumble 'neath my feet.
Those desiccated branches fixed to fall
Are sore subject for childish wonderment.
My ashen dreams blow silent in the wind.
My tears cannot rejuvenate the soil,
Nor tempt my yggdrasil to live again.

Where's my voice?

I just looked over a few of the other AP students' blogs.  I really only looked to see how many blogs the other students had, but I ended up staying for a couple minutes to read their blog entries.  I can't help but think that my writing is lacking something that theirs so perfectly demonstrates: voice.

 It doesn't bother me too much that there are much better writers in this class than myself - I've never been exceptionally proud of my writing ability - but am periodically reminded that my writing sounds very impersonal.  I didn't pass the 5th grade writing test because I lacked voice, and I am still struggling to incorporate it into my writing.  Even this blog entry is little more than an objective analysis of the situation I am observing.  I didn't intend for it to be so mechanical; I desperately want(ed) to show that I have a voice.  I've tried adding some exclamations or questions here or there, but that doesn't fully portray what I really feel. 

My voice is obliterated by the meticulous way I construct every sentence.  Every individual thought of my writing must be perfectly correct and demonstrate exactly what I think, if not what I feel.  I cringe at the thought that someone could take a red pen and circle all of my mistakes.  (Oops.  Maybe I'm not so humble.)  This exasperating habit prevents any of my feelings from emerging in my writing, and this is exacerbated by my intentional omission of profanity.  I swear more than I care to admit around those who do the same, but I am unable to do so here.  (Studies have actually shown that people who openly use profanity tend to be more trustworthy.  That's interesting.) 

So, where's my voice!?  My voice is exactly what I've tried so hard for so long to remove from my writing for the sake of eloquence and clarity.  Maybe Some stream-of-consciousness writing would help me find my voice.  Maybe I just have to get angry - I'm sure as hell angry now, and it's doing wonders.  Maybe My voice is hidden in passion - anger is the most easily available passion that I can think of.  Maybe I should stop being so damn worried about what other people might think of what I have to say and say what needs to be said.  I won't say what others need me to say, I'll say what I want to say.  If my painstaking sculpting of each word and phrase results in such hollow, forgettable passages, I should try to be more brazen and audacious.  Maybe If I just get over myself, my voice will ring through like a klaxon.