Relying On Mended Walls

Robert Frost’s “Mending Wall” uses extended metaphors, the juxtaposition of different points of view and repetition to describe social barriers in communication and the futile intents against established cultural norms. By exposing contrasting perceptions about the subject and implanting hardship, the wall is shown as an unmovable and irreplaceable element of two individuals’ lives. The poem reveals itself as both the savior and critic of the wall’s existence, proving the difficulties of living under strict social constructs and the impossibility of change under such conditions.

Frost begins by showing the existence of a being that dislikes the wall: “something there is that doesn’t love a wall.” The hardship suffered by the wall throughout the poem, the “frozen-ground-swell under it”, the spilled “upper boulders”, the “gaps” and “the boulders that have fallen,” demonstrate the actions taken by this being. The decision taken by the narrator and his neighbor to rebuild the wall, shows the necessity for such divisor. The destructive force mentioned earlier is juxtaposed with the neighbors’ actions, exemplifying the opposing figures under any social or organizational system. The narrator describes how he talks to his neighbor in order to “set the wall between us once again,” a process that resembles a conversation that will finally lead to reconciliation. Frost highlights how this process occurs while having “the wall between us as we go,” proving the utmost necessity of the wall’s existence, even during peaceful times.

Furthermore, the extended metaphor of the wall, meaning the social constructs that provide for respectful relationships to be maintained, reveals the author’s thoughts concerning society as a planned and strict environment. The narrator states that his neighbor “is all pine,” while he is “apple orchard.” This comment mirrors a condition not shared by both neighbors. It is almost as though he were saying his neighbor was from a social class, religion or race different from his. Such division between the two characters can be maintained peacefully with the existence of the wall, shown by the neighbor’s remark: “Good fences make good neighbors.” The possibility that the wall’s existence makes for a “good” relationship simply rejects the idea of sharing or communicating with each other. Their interaction is on the basis of the walls existence only.

Similarly, the repeated use of the word “boulders” highlights the walls composition. The idea of the wall being structured with these boulders which fall on both sides consider both individuals’ mistakes and their commitment to having the wall built dividing their lands. This results similar to the repetition of the phrase “good fences make good neighbors” during the mending of the wall and in the end of the poem, as it exposes the resolute decision of having the wall on foot, ignoring the hardship suffered by the wall and the neighbors in its construction.

The extended metaphor of the wall as the culturally accepted rules of behavior and the divisor of individuals’ possessions, is used by Frost to show his disbelief about its necessity, while keeping it throughout the poem. The juxtaposition of the destructive force and the mending neighbors, exemplifies arguments caused by a social construct and the obligation of understanding both points of view. Even though order is reestablished with the mending of the wall, the author provides the critical view of the wall through the narrator and the attacks against the wall.

Death As A Mission

Kevin Young’s “The Mission” employs enjambment, life and death imagery and irony to portray the life of the living amongst the dead. The juxtaposition of moving beings and lifeless objects exposes the frivolity of grievance and the reluctance of accepting human’s final end. Young uses couplets which serve as concise and piercing pieces to the poem’s entirety, supporting the duality of existence described by the author.

The first couplets of the poem serve to contextualize the narrator’s experience with death, providing enough details to notice his fascination with the subject. The author juxtaposes the “funerals” with “afternoons,” showing the resemblance of the time of day with the death of a living being. Repetition plays an important role in the poem’s structure. Young describes how “soul / after soul” was “pour[ed] / into the cold / New England ground.” The structure of the couplets forces the reader to quickly move his eyes from one line to the next, mirroring the continual flow of people dying. The insignificance of each death, the lack of individual attention to each individual reveals the frivolity of burial.

Similarly, Young describes different actions within the same sentence with opposite adjectives, ironically portraying death. He states that while “children played tag / out front [. . .] bodies / snuck in the back.” The continual burial of bodies, juxtaposed with the children playing create an eerie sensation. The poem uses comic appeal to break the tension and anxiety caused by the discussion of death when describing how “the secondhand suits / that fathers, or sons / now orphans, had rescued / out of closets, praying / they still fit.” The enjambment between the words “suits” and “that”, “sons” and “now”, and “rescued” and “out” maintain the line of thought and provide a complete message.

Furthermore, the poem uses the damage of the “home’s clock,” the “Mornings” and the “dead / of night” to expose the significance of time in the death of a human being. It also creates a sequence from the moment in which the clock stops ticking, symbolizing death, to the mourning or grievance, represented by the word “Morning” and the subsequent forgetting of the human being, shown by the obscurity and solitude of the night. The grievance of death, is finally exposed by the ironical “sorrow’s / not noun / but verb, something / that, unlike living, / by doing right / you do less of.” The structure of the poem provides for a falling and curved path of words, much like the grieving process. Young emphasizes the word “sorrow” which receives its separate line, as though it were to much for it to handle.

The juxtaposition of living and dead objects, the ironical comic relief and enjambment provide a greater meaning to the poem. The ease with which the structure deals with the subjects of death and grievance portrays the poet’s approach to a human’s final moments. Repetition and descriptions of normal, routinely activities give the poem a sense of casualness and consolation during discussions of delicate topics.

Naming the Past

As I continued my journey through Song of Solomon, I kept noticing how significant names are for the development of the characters and the way each person responds to their own. As the book turned into the narration of Milkman Dead’s life, I concentrated on how he reacted to his name. As he ventures into his aunt’s house with his friend, Guitar, and her aunt mentions that there are only three Deads alive, Milkman becomes defensive of his name, “as though having the name was a matter of deep personal pride, as though she had tried to expel him from a very special group, in which he not only belonged, but had exclusive rights” (Morrison, 38-39). This response to her aunt’s comment reflects Milkman’s desire to know everything about his family and his past, truly searching for whom he really is. Milkman’s obsession with the past is not only seen during his visit to his aunt’s, but during the Sunday trips in the car, where he mentions that he doesn’t like travelling backwards as he doesn’t know how the trees and people got there, he isn’t certain of their path, their past. The protagonist’s rebellious behavior, when visiting his aunt against his father’s will, responds to his desire of knowing more about his family, his roots, himself.

Similarly, Milkman’s obsession with the past responds to his disregard of the future. During this same visit at his aunt’s home, Milkman concludes that his necessity of knowing what was behind him “was becoming a habit – this concentration on things behind him. Almost as though there were no future to be had” (Morrison, 35). Notice how the first sentence can be understood as the obsession of knowing about the objects that are behind him or the obsession of knowing about his past. Morrison uses this to implant the second sentence, reflecting another of Milkman’s thoughts. This reminded me of Borge’s short story, Funes the Memorious, where he narrates the story of a man who could describe every leaf of a tree he once saw, or learn Latin by only looking at a dictionary and memorize a book by reading it once. Funes, much in the same way as Milkman, tries to conquer his memory, understanding his past and making something useful of it.

Furthermore, Milkman searches for the origin of his last name by consulting with his father. Macon tells the story of how his father had to register with a drunk agent of the Freedman’s Bureau who messed up his name. He later says that his mother liked how it came out to be: “Mama liked it. Liked the name. Said it was new and would wipe out the past. Wipe it all out” (Morrison, 54). The reader might glance through each of those short-lived sentences without noticing how they mirror a true recount of something stored in one’s memory, how it comes by pieces, how it repeats itself. I find it interesting how Morrison highlights that “wipe it all out” piece. I suppose it refers to their previous life as slaves. Clearly, Song of Solomon deals with the social conflicts of a “free” people who adapt to white life. Milkman’s search for the truth behind his name and family demonstrates the necessity of knowing their new role in society and letting go of that which he is obsessed with: the past.

Names

Every once in a while, a novelist decides to become mysterious and deep in the naming of his characters. Tony Morrison, in Song of Solomon, dedicates a significant piece of the first pages describing a vast repertoire of characters and establishing ways to refer to each one of them. In some cases she includes names, in others their professions and even in some the activities they are currently undertaking. From the first character, the “North Carolina Mutual Life Insurance agent” the reader knows how significant the character’s names, professions and activities will be for the novel (3). This reminded me of José Saramago’s Blindness, due to the way in which he too, refers to the characters by their professions (the doctor, the doctor’s wife, the first blind, the thief, etc.).

Furthermore, Morrison uses references to the character’s activities for comical purposes. We are sometimes introduced to characters to only make some comment about the absurdity of the character’s situation: “the cat-eyed boy listened to the musical performance with at least as much interest as he devoted to the man flipping his wings on top of the hospital” (8). Notice how the author refers to the boy as the “cat-eyed boy” accentuating his intriguing look and his physical appearance. The same happens with the woman who begins singing in the street and the insurance agent who is further described by the different characters. The author uses different characters to narrate the story, making it more credible or complete as each of the individuals provide specific details of what’s going on.

Likewise, by using descriptions instead of names for some of the characters, allows the reader to identify which character takes what role in his family and community. For example, we are introduced to Ruth’s baby as the “deep” or “peculiar” one. Later on in the chapter, when Freddie interrupts Ruth while she breastfeeds her son and lets him fall out of surprise, we learn that “he had begun to suspect – that these afternoons were strange and wrong” (14). The reader must take into account these descriptions which foreshadow the role of the characters. The baby will possibly act as the critic of the families decisions, a voice of understanding and serenity in what appears to be an irrational and difficult situation. So far in the book the author hasn’t revealed a major motif, a protagonist of the story, a key to understanding the novel. So far, we get names.

Darkness: The Ultimate Barrier

There is a necessity to look beyond, to expand our frontiers, to conquer the unknown. Heart of Darkness, being a tale of discovery, of inner development, seduces us towards this necessity. In much the same way as King Leopold’s Ghost, we are exposed to the difficulties of travelling in the borderline between sanity and insanity, between white and black, the known and the unknown. In the first pages of the prologue, we are introduced to the uncertainties of Africa: “everyone knew that as soon as you passed the Canary Islands you would be in the Mare Tenebroso, the Sea of Darkness” (6). The wording couldn’t be better, we are once again, forced into darkness. The “darkness” of Africa for the Europeans of this era is much the same as the mystery being uncovered by a writer. Innovation in a sense is bringing light to what once was unthinkable, giving birth to new risks that burst with new forms of thinking and life.

Similarly, with the necessity of journeying towards and through the unknown, there comes a sense of curiosity, a thirst for knowledge and intense living. For the Europeans of King Leopold’s Ghost it might have been to know the “source of the Nile, a mystery that had fascinated the Europeans since antiquity,” for Marlow it was finding Kurtz, a truthful voice in a world of the unknown, and for a writer it probably is to relinquish or reveal the darkest memories, thoughts and opinions (7). The darkness filled by light becomes the words inscribed in the page, the knowledge, the observations, the memories immortalized from the ongoing movement of the light, who must find more darkness to absorb, to confess.

Furthermore, there must be a playground for all this activity. The setting for Marlow was the Congo, for King Leopold’s Ghost, the continent, the “faceless, blank, a place on the map to be explored [. . .] the Dark Continent” and for the writer the blank page and the pen (18). Menacing, all these places develop, constantly change, the Congo is not so unknown, the Dark Continent is not so dark, the blank page may not be so blank. Our thirst for knowledge might be quenched by an article, that miniscule goal of understanding how a plane works, might not be so exciting, but the attractiveness of surpassing darkness once and for all and flying further than ever imagined still exists.

Precipitating The Experience

As I think back on how Heart of Darkness impacted me, I remember how it was the tale of an experience. The way Marlow introduces Kurtz, along his journey to the heart of the Congo, makes it important to highlight how this is the story of a memory. The reenactment of what once was, and Marlow’s subsequent transformation. This mirrors the relationship between a book and a reader: What is a book, other than an experience? Being a world of its own, as many of my previous English teachers taught me, a book encompasses and creates a life of its own. The transcendence and immortality of the story depend on how well the author is able to describe, to create, to force the reader to think of an alternative existence.

The Age of Wonder does just that, creates a world of the scientists’ adventures. The way we conceive a book, roots in the way we use books to communicate the deepest passions, realities and dreams of our surroundings. Richard Holmes begins by narrating how an experiment in his early years, the precipitation of a crystal from mineral salts, has had the “eventual consequence, after many years of cooling, [. . .] to precipitate this book” (Holmes, xv). This book recounts the story of Joseph Banks, a botanist who found himself in Tahiti, and who’s voyage “launched an Age of Wonder” (Holmes, 59). Capturing the transformation of this character, the connection made between a Romantic appreciation of life and science becomes Holmes’ goal. In a way, the reader observes how Banks does the same as Holmes, they both dedicate their work to showing others the beauty that surrounds them, the possible reconciliation between spirituality and science. Even though Banks doesn’t publish “his long-dreamed-of Endeavour Voyage, or any full account of his time in Paradise,” his adventures, and the impact he had on those around him, mirror that of Marlow and in a way, those of authors in general.

Furthermore, the utility of books in our daily lives can agree with the author’s purpose of writing the book, appreciating the message, adopting some of their experience into our own lives. But the author’s free will can also use books to create chairs and flower bases, as this page promotes. The possible demise of reading, the tragic end of books as waste and part of useful objects reminds us of the finite quality of writing. As long as there are writers to publish their thoughts, experiences and imaginations, I believe there will always be readers to appreciate and be influenced by them in an infinite number of unique ways.

Describing The Unknown

For my last Heart of Darkness entry I wanted to pinpoint Mr. Kurtz’s development and meaning in the novel. I found it pretty difficult to narrow down to a sentence or two, so I will describe some of the elements that make Kurtz so special for the text. First of all, Kurtz guides all of the characters in the novel, they all have some impression of this individual and in a way they are all looking for him. When they interact with Kurtz, he takes over the conversation, as described by Marlow: “when encamped in the forest, they had talked all night, or more probably Kurtz had talked” (Conrad, 102-103). As the characters describe their interactions with Kurtz, they all seemed impressed by his ability to talk of just about any topic, and his facility to create new insight and impressive ideas. The reader’s interaction with this character rests in other’s words, the reader never interacts with Kurtz himself until his dying moments. I find it interesting how Conrad develops this urge to find Kurtz, which finally resolves in his own death.

Likewise, Conrad uses repetition to highlight important elements of Kurtz, specially his impact on others. By the end of the novel, Marlow describes how he was changed by knowing this character, starting “when the foundations of our intimacy were being laid – to endure – to endure – even to the end – even beyond” (Conrad, 123). The last piece of this sentence, combined with the repetition of the word “endure” helps the reader understand how influential Kurtz would become in Marlow’s life. The fact that Marlow has been the narrator for the whole story, that the reader has been able to know him and understand his thinking, accentuates such understanding. The reader is truly shocked by how powerfully Kurtz impacts Marlow’s life.

Furthermore, the reader needs some kind of assurance of Kurtz’s geniality. As Marlow describes his near death experience, he affirms that “Kurtz was a remarkable man. He had something to say. He said it” (Conrad, 132). The simplicity with which Marlow states his opinion of Kurtz, helps the reader imagine what it must be like to find somebody who is so confident of what he says and does, specially after having dwelled in the Congo for so long. The possibility of finding oneself, the real and true spirit behind all of our decisions and actions becomes this character. The journey into the Congo, the journey into the darkest and most remote places of our souls is the Kurtz we each have in us.

Perceptions

Slowly, I turned each page over, revealing that there was less and less material in my right hand, not much more to go. I felt the end of Heart of Darkness rushed by, I didn’t have enough material to satiate myself and keep going deeper. However, one of the elements that struck out were the different perceptions the characters have about Mr. Kurtz. As the reader ventures into the heart of the Congo, we meet one of Kurtz’s admirers: “The man filled his life, occupied his thoughts, swayed his emotions” (Conrad, 104). This sentence stands up by itself, with three short but piercing descriptions of the way Kurtz impacted this man’s life. The reader needs to create a clear image of Mr. Kurtz: Why is he so important? Why do people always talk about him? Is he good or bad? Why is he there? What does Marlow think about him? Conrad doesn’t come out with a straightforward version of Mr. Kurtz, he evades the topic, juxtaposes different perceptions about him thus forcing the reader to discover and/or create his own version of the mysterious character.

Looking back at the novel’s narrator, I noticed how Marlow isn’t as significant as one would think so. In most first-person narratives, the narrator’s perception is extremely significant in the development of the plot. In Heart of Darkness; however, Marlow becomes separated from the struggles as a whole, he doesn’t intervene when describing the Congo, possibly to point out the deeper meaning of the work. Marlow’s opinions come in brief sentences which don’t have much effect ion the reader: “Mr. Kurtz was no idol of mine” (Conrad, 109). The change in Marlow’s perception of Mr. Kurtz should be of extreme significance, but it isn’t. It is blended in with descriptions of Kurtz’s job, Marlow’s daily adventures and reenactments of conversations and fights.

Likewise, Marlow’s narration helps the reader notice significant opinions and conclusions of the character’s relationship with Kurtz. As Marlow interacts with one of Mr. Kurtz’s admirers, he states that “for him Mr. Kurtz was one of the immortals” (Conrad, 117). The difference in opinions between the three characters previously described rests in their relationship with Kurtz. As the reader continues flipping pages, he notices how Marlow becomes one of Kurtz’s admirers, showing how it is just a matter of time to appreciate something about his personality. The discovery of such admiration becomes the reader’s task, looking between the lines, looking for Marlow’s development, how he changes opinions, simply looking for fluctuations in perception.

Purposeless Actions

Through Marlow’s journey, the reader encounters several scenes in which there seems to be no real purpose in the colonist’s and slave’s actions. The first of these encounters happens when Marlow comes across a battleship which shoots projectiles at the jungle: “a little white smoke would disappear, a tiny projectile would give a feeble screech – and nothing happened. Nothing could happen. There was a touch of insanity in the proceeding, a sense of lugubrious drollery in the sight” (Conrad, 22). Tactless individuals might be one thing, but shooting at the forest with a battleship seems a bit too much. Marlow’s impression of such actions reveals his sanity, until the moment, and his disgust of other white men’s stupid futile actions.

Another event in which such purposeless actions occur, happens when Marlow sees slaves “building a railway. The cliff was not in the way or anything; but this objectless blasting was all the work going on” (Conrad, 25). This scene reminded me of some of the Nazi work camp stories, one of which really impressed me. Captives had to roll huge rocks up a cliff and let them fall over to go back and retrieve the rock and start the process all over again. As individuals tried to slow down the process, they were physically punished. Conrad’s objective of repeatedly including such purposeless actions may be to reveal the insanity required to become an oppressor and the struggles within an empire’s different classes.

A third scene of such encounters, occurs when Marlow narrates that he “avoided a vast artificial hole somebody had been digging on the slope, the purpose of which I found it impossible to divine. It wasn’t a quarry or a sandpit, anyhow. It was just a hole. It might have been connected with the philanthropic desire of giving the criminals something to do” (Conrad, 26-27). Conrad’s sarcasm brings with it observations of human’s depravations under such conditions as imperialism. The misconception of being superior to other individuals brings with it the possibility the insanity of subjecting people to absurd dehumanizing tasks.

Marlow: The Indefinite

As the reader slowly grasps Marlow’s intentions, the protagonist seems unreachable, indefinite to words. Early in the novel, the narrator warns us about Marlow: “He was the only man of us who still ‘followed the sea.’ The worst that could be said of him was that he did not represent his class” (Conrad, 5). Marlow sticks to this promise, the reader is presented a sailor’s story. But not any kind of sailor story, an adventure during imperial times. By capturing the essence of colonization, of the exploitation of the colonies’ natural resources for the benefit of the mother land per its executors, the reader is forced to pay very close attention to the stories details, to the many short-lived yet vivid descriptions of slavery, massacre and the forced imposition of culture.

The novel’s protagonist seems to be carrying an overwhelming version of colonial life, as he once states that after his trips he often found himself “loafing about, hindering you fellows in your work and invading your homes, just as though I had got a heavenly mission to civilize you” (Conrad, 10). The idea of learning through experiences and travel correspond to this individual’s life destiny. His dynamic narration seems to be almost teaching his companions step by step what colonial life was all about. The reader’s role in the novel becomes to witness, observe and appreciate the protagonist’s life and all the teachings that might be extracted from this special adventure.

Marlow is slowly revealed by Conrad, sometimes making conclusions of his life which seem like compromises with the reader: “No, I don’t like work. I had rather laze about and think of all the fine things that can be done. I don’t like work – no man does – but I like what is in the work,– the chance to find yourself” (Conrad, 51). Marlow’s obsession with being a sailor, with learning about new places and people develops around his job, his responsibilities, his traveling. The possibility of experiencing the Congo through Marlow’s narration is just another of the novel’s virtues. The reader may develop a connection with Marlow, an obscure and interesting individual who can’t be described with a handful of words, but who must be appreciated through the author’s short but significant notes.

Introductions

As I reread the first pages of the novel, I got interested in the way Marlow was introduced by the narrator. In the first paragraphs, the reader is presented to the other individuals traveling on the Nellie, starting with “The Director of Companies was our captain and our host. We four affectionately watched his back as he stood in the bows looking to seaward” (Conrad, 2). Interestingly enough, the director of companies doesn’t have an important role in the novel, ceasing to be named after the first five or ten pages. The reader’s attention is diverted from the important subjects through the introduction of this character.

Later on, the narrator, one of the four individuals who traveled with the Director of Companies, introduces “The Lawyer – the best of old fellows – had, because of his many years and many virtues, the only cushion on deck, and was lying on the rug” (Conrad, 2). From the beginning of the novel, the author highlights the different classes and customs, which reveal the characters personalities and their interactions with other individuals. Following the Lawyer, “The Accountant had brought out already a box of dominoes, and was toying architecturally with the bones” (Conrad, 2). This description of the accountants actions serves almost as a photograph of his movements, the search for equilibrium between the different domino pieces.

These presentations of the narrator’s companions share common structures, they all start with the profession of the individual followed by a description of their current actions. This enables the author to break the pattern and introduce the most important character by stating: “Marlow sat cross-legged right aft, leaning against the mizzenmast” (Conrad, 2). Notice the manner in which the narrator refers to this individual, by his first name, instead of presenting him as The Sailor. By not starting in the middle of action, by slowly introducing his subject, Conrad creates suspense and diverts the reader’s attention to finally pose the spotlight on his protagonist’s ways.

“Good-bye, My Dear Fellow”

Act IV of The Cherry Orchard is all about saying goodbye. Trofimov’s farewell to Lopakhin comprehends this cathartic moment: “Well, when all’s said and done, I’m fond of you anyway. You have fine, delicate fingers, like an artist; you have a fine delicate soul” (Chekhov, 369). Even though Lopakhin had already announced his regret on buying the orchard, based on the family’s response to the destruction of the place they grew up in, he still seems to be convinced that the purchase helps him become part of that cherished social class that once enslaved his own family. As seen in the screenshot above, the characters embrace each other in response to this parting, revealing the true sentiments toward each other. Trofimov, as the conscience of the play, shows how beneath it all, Lopakhin simply searches to be a part of this life he has always yearned for and can now afford.

In this same scene, Chekhov involves Trofimov’s desires and thoughts on life itself. In response to Lopakhin’s repeated mentions of his humble past, Trofimov states: “Your father was a peasant, mine was a pharmacist – which proves absolutely nothing” (Chekhov, 370). The capability of changing social class, advancing through education and not by acquiring wealth, responds to the difference between the two individuals. Chekhov extends Trofimov’s desire of becoming “wealthy” by studying in Moscow, into the chosen path of the play itself. The need to leave behind the misconception of money as the far-reaching and necessary element of life. This cathartic moment of the play, the realization of life not needing money as the sole proprietor of all our desires, responds to all the previous events in which Chekhov had made fun of his character’s materialistic desires.

Trofimov concludes that “everything that is valued so highly and held so dear by all of you, rich and poor alike, has not the slightest power over me [. . .] mankind is advancing toward the highest truth, the highest happiness attainable on earth, and I am in the front ranks” (Chekhov, 370). The possibility of there being another way of reaching happiness, not through material possessions, develops into Trofimov’s and the play’s realization. The variety of ways the characters of The Cherry Orchard respond toward money can’t be better described than by the juxtaposition of Trofimov and Lopakhin. Chekhov’s discrete involvement in the search of happiness as the reason for all human actions responds with ending the play on this contrasting note.

Pishchik On Money

I wasn’t prepared to observe the high class family of Ranevskaya only talk about money and its importance in life. The Cherry Orchard’s main theme is simply that. People’s desperate obsession, no matter what economic status, for money. Early into Act III we find Pishchik talking to Trofimov about his medical condition and how he is “a full-blooded man, I’ve already had two strokes, and dancing’s hard work for me, but as they say, ‘If you run with the pack, you can bark or not, but at least wag your tail’” (Chekhov, 352). The importance of being seen as a strong, wealthy man is clearly seen in the landowner’s speech. As seen on the screenshot to the right, Pishchik is an obese man, somehow accenting his condition and supporting his enthusiasm towards dancing. The whole scene results quite comical: the overweight man trying to regain his breath, commenting on his medical condition and his dancing with younger individuals to a skinny, thoughtful man.

Chekhov further pursues his readers to laugh about his character’s desperation for finding money. Pishchik replies to Trofimov’s gloomy speech on the family’s need for money by stating: “Nietzsche [. . .] says in his works that it is possible to forge banknotes” (Chekhov, 353). Out of all the references Pishchik could have made on Nietzsche’s sagacity, he decides to level him to his own intellect in terms of forging currency. Trofimov questions Pishchik’s reference by asking him if he read Nietzsche, resulting in a dissimulated no, again provoking the reader’s laughter. The screenshot to the left exposes Pishchik’s deep concern and thought on these matters.

A third example of Chekhov’s comical situations occurs when Pishchik states that he is “in such a state now that I’m just about ready for forging” (Chekhov, 353). The character describes how he needs to collect some money to pay for something the day after tomorrow. As he tries to reach for the money in his pocket, he jumps out and desperately searches through his clothes, finding it in the coat’s lining. He then hugs Trofimov, as seen in the screenshot to the right, and lets the money fall to the ground. The character’s conversations seem to always deal with money, status and life’s superficial elements. The scenes in which such topics are involved result quite comical and amusing as they depict how wealthy individuals are, ironically enough, always involved and concerned with money as if they were poor, which in a way they truly are.

Lopakhin: The Businessman With Bad Handwriting

Throughout Act II of The Cherry Orchard, Chekhov characterizes Lopakhin as an individual who’s whole life is dedicated to business. As a close family friend, his opinion affects the decisions made by Yasha and her family. Early into the act, Lopakhin states that he has “never seen such frivolous, such queer, unbusinesslike people as you, my friends. You are told in plain language that your estate is to be sold, and it’s though you don’t understand it” (Chekhov, 341). Generally speaking, someone who handles business isn’t found insulting the proprietors’ skill in terms of their possessions. I would find Lopakhin’s commentary offensive and would probably dismiss him. In turn, Lyubov Andreyevna responds by asking: "But what are we to do? Tell us what to do” (Chekhov, 341). Maybe its part of Chekhov’s satire, showing that the somewhat wealthy can be truly naïve individuals.

As Lopakhin continues showing how the cherry orchard must be converted into summer cottages, we find that Lyubov is conscientious about the workers’ situation: “Cottages, summer people – forgive me, but it’s so vulgar” (Chekhov, 341). The possibility that some of the characters’ interests respond to different necessities and social classes is evident. Lopakhin, being bread in a humble family shows disgust toward his ancestors as he remembers how his father “was a peasant, an idiot; he understood nothing, taught me nothing; all he did was beat me when he was drunk, and always with a stick” (Chekhov, 343). The casualty with which Lopakhin mentions his childhood, mirrors the casualty with which day to day conversations occur. Lopakhin may have felt he was out of line in previous commentaries and needed to show himself as a humble individual through some allusion to his past.

Lopakhin continues this allusion to his childhood by saying: “I never learned anything, my handwriting’s disgusting, I write like a pig – I’m ashamed to have people see it” (Chekhov, 343). Lopakhin certainly shows to be a complex character who needs assurance of his skill and distancing from his past. As I searched for a good piece of Bill Gates’ handwriting I found the picture above, taken from a note to Ric Weiland, cofounder of Microsoft, in this article. Maybe it is a businessman’s trait to have bad handwriting. I sure hope so!

Naming It Out

As I ventured into Chekov’s The Cherry Orchard, I was constantly impressed by the use of complete names in the play. In an occasion Yepikhodov addresses Lopakhin by saying: “And now, Yermolai Alekseyevich, permit me to append…” while Dunyasha approaches the same character when she states “You know, Yermolai Alekseich…” (Chekov, 323). Notice how the character’s name is spelled differently in both occasions and how the author refers to him by the name of Lopakhin. The author could have done this to either show how different people might have special ways of approaching their friends, colleagues and family members, expose some characteristic element of their culture or maybe to capture the mistakes that occur in everyday speech.

I imagine some crucial elements of the play are lost through translation. When one acquires a new language one enters a new way of seeing life. Since each person is so complex even the full name gives only a glimpse. It may be customary to address individuals using their complete names or maybe the author wanted to be clear about whom the characters were talking to. I would definitely feel pinpointed if they called me by my complete name every time they wished to have a word with me. Some of the cases in which the author uses the character’s full name reminds me of The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn, where some of the characters regularly refer to their friends by their complete names. In one occasion Dunyasha states that “I ought to wake him up but Varvara Mikhailovna told me not to” (Chekhov, 326). This line could easily fit in Huck’s speech if you replace the Russian name for Tom Sawyer. The way characters express themselves resembles to that of The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn if you don’t take into consideration the slang employed in Twain’s novel. Names, from the beginning of the play, are given importance, something the reader must always pay close attention to.

Inspirational Talk

How much do words really matter? Can they astonish a world during an astronaut’s first moon walk or inspire an author to write a novel? In A Scholar Finds Huck Finn's Voice in Twain's Writing About a Black Youth, the author narrates how Twain may have been inspired by a boy he described “in an almost forgotten article in The New York Times in 1874 as "the most artless, sociable and exhaustless talker I ever came across"” (Anthony DePalma). The possibility that The Adventure’s of Huckleberry Finn was inspired by a young boy’s speech seems rather unbelievable.

Twain continues describing the boy as he states: “"He did not tell me a single remarkable thing, or one that was worth remembering," Twain wrote, "and yet he was himself so interested in his small marvels, and they flowed so naturally and comfortably from his lips that his talk got the upper hand of my interest, too, and I listened as one who receives a revelation"” (Anthony DePalma). This sounds just like a description of Huckleberry Finn, completely immersed in his adventure of survival, friendship and persistence. The way Huck completely brings his experience to live through his narration may well be based on Twain’s experience with this captivating boy.

Professor Fishkin, author of Was Huck Black? Mark Twain and African-American Voices, explains how Huck and Jim, the black boy Twain was allegedly inspired by “constantly repeat the same words, make frequent use of present participles and often make the same mistakes. The two boys often use the same adjectives in place of adverbs. Jimmy says, "He's powerful sick." Huck says, "I was most powerful thirsty"” (Anthony DePalma). This reminded me of an article about Neil Armstrong’s moon walk speech mistake. Words definitely travel a longer distance than we can imagine.

Old Facts New Questions

As I read Blackface Minstrelsy, I learned some facts about Mark Twain’s life which made me question how we see his life captured by the essence of his novels. The author of the article states that in 1906 Twain “said, using a word that would have bothered almost no white Americans at the time but which now makes us wince, that "the genuine nigger show, the extravagant nigger show" was "the show which to me had no peer" and "a thoroughly delightful thing"” (Blackface Minstrelsy). Once again we find the present issues with the word “nigger” and his proximity to the racially discriminatory society the author lived in. Clearly an author’s live affects his writing, specially when using experiences and childhood memories to create novels.

After showing the possibility of Huck and Jim being a minstrel show author of the article mentions how “MT's contemporary white readers would have seen nothing wrong with a "minstrel-show" version of an African-American. But the question of what kind of "source" minstrelsy was for MT's novel remains unanswered by a reference to the racist prejudices of his popular audience” (Blackface Minstrelsy). The possibility that the novel was inspired by minstrel shows and that it satisfied Twain’s readers desire for racist art exposes the dark side of Twain’s time period. In cases like these readers must search for answers that correspond to facts about author’s lives and interests which may sometimes lead to more unanswered questions.

Transforming Literature

The idea that a book doesn’t end when you finish the last page may not only apply to the reader, but to the writer’s role in the novel’s creation. The new edition of The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn which omits both “nigger” and “injun” seems to be one of those cases in which the author never saw his complete novel. According to the publisher, NewSouth Books, the new edition will "counter the 'pre-emptive censorship' that Dr Gribben observes has caused these important works of literature to fall off curriculum lists worldwide." Even though I believe texts should be left alone for readers to read and interpret in their own, I consider that if the objective of such changes helps the distribution of the novel worldwide such changes must be made.

Benedicte Page, author of New Huckleberry Finn edition censors 'n-word', exposes both points of view as she includes Dr. Churchwell’s reflection on this matter: “These changes mean the book ceases to show the moral development of his character. They have no merit and are misleading to readers. The whole point of literature is to expose us to different ideas and different eras, and they won't always be nice and benign” (Dr. Sarah Churchwell). Given that Twain captures American society in such form in his novel, I find it difficult to support a change in the language used by the author to depict the time-period’s speech. The possibility that the original version of The Adventure’s of Huckleberry Finn will be lost due to the new edition is menacing but it’s a risk literature will have to take.