Good Country People by Flannery O'Connor
Reading the history of Flannery O'Connor has been inspiring. Her story, with the fact that she had disseminated lupus all of her life, I believe, shows her own personal connection to the emotional and physical pain of her characters. Hulga is one example, in Good Country People. But Flannery was a fighter, unlike Hulga, who did not let her physical difficulties get her down.  Hulga, on the other hand, used, getting her leg blown off, as a way to justify her miserable life. She really does seem to think that nothing could be truly "good" for her anymore, but it isn't until she meets Manley Pointer however, (a Bible Salesman who tricks her into giving him her wooden leg) that her mind is made up on this. 

What Hulga failed to notice about her situation, before she met Manley Pointer, was that she could have died and not just lost a leg. She refused to see the brighter side of her situation, and it caused her to be so discontented she looked for the attention that Manley seemed to give her, and her mother didn't. In so doing she was susceptible to anyone who called themselves, "a good person", and took interest in her. She was hoping to find someone who accept her, even in her disgruntled state, and she found out that what she wanted was really not what she wanted after all.

https://www.thinglink.com/scene/578318130527338498

 It was said to me one time, that we as human beings listen to ourselves more than anyone else. In other words, what we think about most is what will control us. So if we think that we are nothing, no matter what anyone else says, that is what we believe. Hulga's refusal to believe that she was something, even with only one leg, and could still have a wonderful, purpose driven life with her lost limb, shows in her life quite clearly. And the really sad part is, she probably would have never been hurt by Manley the way she was.


Manley lifted the suitcase beside him with both hands. "Let's see what we can do today boys," he said, patting the suitcase as if it was some infant child, and shifting it from one hand to the other.  There was a house, not far from his own, that he had seen as a prospect for months, but he had wanted to wait and see what other places would give him. The house, by itself, was not really special, but he had been told by one of his friends that the lady who lived there would not turn anyone down. "Maybe this will be just what I need?" he thought, and hoped to get there as soon as possible. Something seemed to tell him that he was going to make it today. He was glad he knew what he was doing. His mother had told him countless times how proud she was of him, and he could not find the heart to let her down. He remembered the time, when he had told her how much he hated it here, and that he was moving to the big city. She had responded with a down turned glance and a limb expression. He knew it pained her deeply to think of losing her only son, but she had realized a long time ago that he was set out to make his own decisions; whether good or bad, and knew that she hoped that he would stick with what she taught him. Deep down, she believed he had a kind heart. Manley thought hard about it for a long time, and finally came to the conclusion to stay. His mother was the only one he had left in the world. She had raised him. He hated to think of leaving her alone. Manley pushed the thoughts of his mother aside at the sight of the house, and a new energy pulsed through his veins. There were only two Bibles he had left, and at least one he hoped to sell. As the house came into view, he saw the crisp almond front with a smiling eagerness, and the brick red shutters and door, adorned with beautifully cut boxwood to frame it, with a happy allure. Manley forced a smile across his own face as he glance at the mailbox moments before approaching the door. His hand was light as he knocked; the sound of soft foot steps approaching. Something in his heart seemed to indicated that this house would be different, and he was excited to find out why. The door swung open, and Manley put on his overly happy face, "Good morning, Mrs. Cedars!"


  

The Leader of the People by John Steinbeck

The Red Pony is probably one of least known stories written from Steinbeck, but one of the furthest from current reality. He displays the mysteries of generational differences within one sweeping blow in the conclusion of this story, by telling a small story within it called, The Leader of the People. No one would deny that Steinbeck's style of writing is wrapped around current issues in society, all processed through simple and easily understood underlying messages, but the greatest thing about Steinbeck is his sympathy for the common man, which he blatantly describes as very misunderstood. To be completely honest, I have never actually read the Red Pony in its entirety, but of the small portion that I have, I have come to appreciate it just as much as Of Mice and Men, or The Grapes of Wrath.

So what is the point of his message here?  When we look at the character of Jody, Mr. and Mrs. Tiflin, and grandfather, we learn that something vitally important is missing from the young adult generation,...gratitude; or appreciation for themselves, and their past, and this is the perspective I want to build upon. We know this because, when grandfather comes to visit the Tiflin house, Mr. Tiflin is upset that he will have to listen to his father-in-law's same old stories of when he moved out west, and the difficulties in that. In fact all the adults reveal, in some fashion or another, throughout the story, their boredom with him; showing their careless attitudes. Jody is the only one who "gets it," and the only one who seems to appreciate what his grandfather went through so that he could be who he was.

This story really touched my heart, because I too feel as if my generation is slowly pulling away from the past, so here is something to think about...

You and I do not just happen to exist. But we came from our parents, who in fact came from theirs. We are who we are today because of our family before us.

Like Jody, ... I remember my grandfather telling me stories about times in his life where he could have died as a soldier in WWII, or where times were so hard for him and his family, he believed he was never going to make it. He was a "common man". And you know something...I would have ceased to exist if that so called "common man" had died. As I sat their listening to him as a little girl, even though I had never been through what he had, I felt myself there with him through it all. It was true! The things that I had only read about in history were all true! And I could see it in how my grandfather lived his life. For instance, my grandfather was a little boy through the Great Depression, and so he and his family had learned to save everything they could. From the time I could remember him, and now that he is gone, I never once will forget him reusing Cottage Cheese containers for leftover pot roast, or reusing PAPER PLATES sometimes three or four days old just so he would not waste them.
I appreciate my grandfather, not just because of the things he went through,... but because without him... I would cease to exist... for I am a part of who he was in more ways then one.

John Steinbeck

Image URLs: http://www.goodreads.com/book/show/8732.The_Red_Pony, and http://www.ozark.k12.mo.us/Page/5453

The Great Gatsby by F. Scott Fitzgerald
It is no surprise that the Great Gatsby is one of the best known stories of all time (or at least one of the most popular). So it should be no surprise to anyone when I say that I absolutely love The Great Gatsby, along with a wide array of others who have read the book as well! But what is it about this book that makes it so amazing? Because honestly, if we think about it, there is not much to like; one man despairingly obsessed with trying to win the long lost love of his life, yet coming to realize that all his work to get her is useless, a lover, who dreamed of having a real love story with the man she has always wanted, yet choosing instead to love the riches and position of another simply because she was unwilling to wait for him, a husband who, dissatisfied with his life, cheats on his wife and becomes a social tyrant, a mechanic who lives in the slums of society desperately longing for a better and happier life for him and his wife, and a mechanic's wife who is unfaithful and ungrateful to her husband for how they live, and so takes every opportunity to escape and become involved with a social tyrant who can shower her with all the riches she could ever want. These and so much more are all indications of the sad and dramatic plot line Fitzgerald draws out before us, and part of the reason why it is so loved.

It is not that there is really any cause for me to like it, but I believe that is the point Fitzgerald tries to make. Every girl longs to feel the desperate love and attention of a handsome, popular, and successful guy, and every guys hopes to win the heart of stunningly beautiful and affectionate lovely lady, but even throughout the course of this story these wishes seems to be nothing short of a dream. Actually this whole novel is all about dreams, and how they can often blinds us to the depths of reality until it almost smacks us straight in the face.

Though the story is told through an outside observer, I think the truth behind these dreams can be revealed in an astounding way, through the eyes of one of the main characters, Daisy herself.  

I could see the end of the street curved a ways as we crossed over into West Egg; a line of houses bordering the sides. "Is this really where Nick lives?" I thought to myself after a minute or two. "Each house is so modern... so unique, definitely not as stately as my own." For me that was the exciting thing about it. I was ready for a change, and something to excite myself, and secretly I hoped that my cousin's appearance was the answer. Tom was in town today, for whatever reason, and so I tried to push the pressing thoughts aside. "He never seemed to mind when I was gone anyway, so it should not bother him that I am here with Nick." Besides, I didn't like the stuffy conference rooms him and his co-workers crammed into for session. Oh sure, once or twice I had gone with him to work, never wanting to leave his side. But those days were short lived, and I wondered why I had ever gone in the first place. Even if he did have important business to attend to, I was sure he would go and have his car checked as he always did. I could never see why he needed it checked so much, he only just bought it a few months ago, yet he treated it like was some child...No!... Better than his own child! But I knew the real reason he had it checked, and had come to grips with a long time ago. Tom was a smart successful man, but he was never one to keep a secret. 

Image URL: http://media.gq.com/photos/564d23f5b25c6bc36ea02d8e/master/pass/70s-movies-need-to-see---gatsby-01.jpg

Langston Hughes(1902-1967)

Poetry, as compared to novels or short stories, are a great way to get to know the author without actually meeting them (at least in my opinion). In a story, sometimes it can be harder to understand a deeper meaning especially when you have to take parts and dissect the language,and use different perspectives in order to even make a wise guess at what the author is trying to say. Perspectives become fun at this point, because we realize that sometimes it is not about what we can see that makes a story, but what we can't see, or didn't realize before. Poetry however, makes this concept radical, as we get first hand sight into the mind and heart of individuals who show through their experiences what their feelings were, and tell us blatantly, in each's own beautifully scripted language, their story, which we can especially connect with. 

This is how I feel about Langston Hughes' work as he speaks out loudly against the racial criticism going on in America during the 1960s; a period of time that I will never be able know fully as he did. I have to say that for my own interests I am a bit of a history nut, and wish sometimes that I could go back in time to certain periods just to know how what it was like then, and for people like Hughes, who was born and lived in a time period where his "people"  were viewed as social outcasts,I can know a little bit about how he felt, though there is a definite possibility that I would still not fully understand his position. This is why he has something to say to the world.

When looking at one piece of his poetry, we get a clear message of the social degradation he experienced. I kind of twisted it up a bit, and put this into the perspective of a white person during that time, and how they view Hughes by replacing words throughout. I think this shows a lot about his position as well, and the self views of those who were white. Unfortunately this perspective shows a white arrogance through the dialect!

"I, Too."

"I, too, sing America.

I am the [whiter] brother.
[Who] sends [the darker] to eat in the kitchen
When company comes,
[So] I laugh, 
And eat well,
And grow strong.

Tomorrow, 
I'll be at the table [again]
When company comes.
[And] Nobody'll dare
Say to me, 
"Eat in the kitchen,"
Then.
[Because],
[They] see how beautiful I am
And [are] ashamed--

I, too, am America."

Image URL: https://pbs.twimg.com/profile_images/411789530912395264/sDYzIsTh.jpeg

The Red Badge of Courage by Stephen Crane

Through it's dramatic content, portrayed in the the heart of a young, inexperienced Civil War soldier, The Red Badge of Courage, has captured the hearts of countless readers throughout the decades who face battles in their life, similar to that of Henry Flemming; both in and outside of war. Not only does the novel display the true essence of courage in the life of Flemming, but Crane also stamps out his ideals behind true glory and honor in those battles of life, which turns him into the mature soldier he wants to be. This is something all of us can relate to. For these very reasons and more, I found the novel to be a favorite, and chose to look at it from a different angle outside of the main character. 

Crane writes the story in the third person, from the perspective of a youth, who is trying to "find himself" as a new soldier, in which he seeks the encouragement and advice from his comrades in his journey. Though there is much incite that we can learn from through his friends, and their viewpoints of the war, we are never really given that chance to totally understand their perspectives. Though it is obvious that his friends are young and inexperienced soldiers like he is, we know for sure that they saw the war differently then Henry. By looking through the eyes of Henry's friend, Wilson, we gain something about the concepts of glory and honor in manhood, that Henry eventually learns himself. (The dialogue is taken from the end of the thirteenth chapter, and the beginning of chapter fourteenth in the book). 

Finally Wilson bent and picked up his blankets. He spread the rubber one upon the ground and placed the woolen one upon the youth's shoulders.  
"There now, " he said, "lie down and get some sleep."
The youth, obeying quietly, got carefully down. He stretched out with a murmur of relief and comfort. The ground felt like the softest bed. 
But suddenly he said, "Wait a minute. Where are you going to sleep?"
His friend waved his hand impatiently. "Right down there next to you."
"Well, but wait--" continued the youth. "What are you going to sleep on? I've got your--"
The young soldier answered: "Be quiet and go to sleep. Don't be making a fool of yourself," he said firmly. 
A long gaze of concern crossed the young soldiers face at Wilson, but he silently turned to lay down, and started resting peacefully. Wilson continued to look at his friend with tender eyes, and wished he could have been with him when he got shot. He felt great sympathy for the poor fellow, and was glad he had not further argued with him. Besides, he did not feel much like sleeping anyway, though he was dead tired, and felt that Henry needed it more. Stretching his legs out, and propping his torso up with his hands behind his back, his gray face lifted to the sky, and Wilson looked up into the shining black, and thought about the past events. The hot and sweaty men all standing behind the forest trees, firing their guns so heavily, turning out fire and smoke as if the whole place was red in flames, came back to him in a clear exuberant picture. He really thought they had them. He was sure of it. He remember the silence that came and went as if a storm was rolling in, and became angry at himself for ever thinking he could somehow conquer it. He saw the boys run at the second attack, and found himself too plastered behind a dead gunman at the foot of the run, where he stayed until the the firing had stopped. "Only God can control the storm," he thought, "all I can hope is that I don't end up blasted to smithereens!" Something inside of him seemed to take a second look at his wounded friend. He didn't know why, but he had a deep concern for his countenance, and contemplated a fact. "If I could have been there... I would have taken it for him." 

Image URL: http://s27.photobucket.com/user/john-wayne/media/John%20Wayne-%202/redbadge_zps3fffd556.jpg.html

A New England Nun by Mary E. Wilkins Freeman

I think the best thing about a good story is when I can find myself living out the same lives as the characters; almost as if I were there myself. Though not every story is like this, each does have its own unique outlook on life that forces us to see things that we may not have before.

This is so true of the New England Nun, because when I read it, I had a very hard time relating to it. Despite the fact that I have never been in the same sort of relationship Louisa Ellis had with Joe Dagget, I also found it extremely hard to imagine myself following her around as she almost mechanically went about her day to day duties. I could not understand why she was the way that she was. So for this post, the perspective change comes into play actually in myself, because Freeman's character Louisa, helped me realize my own quirks and oddities too. So here it what I realized... I am a lot like Louisa... just in my own way, and it makes me wonder how other people reading this story relate to it. How do you see the characters, or the story in general, from your eyes?

There is a saying that says, "no one is perfect." That is to say that, no one has it all together at every moment of every day. However, as Freeman portrays Louisa, it sounds as if she really is perfect, and is exempt from this.  However, even though Louisa's character seems perfect, her relationship with Joe is far from it. What is the author trying to say?

There is an important lesson in this story, that teaches us how to be ourselves, no matter the cost. The reality is, is that no one is perfect. And even people who have similar lifestyles like Louisa, still wish there was something different about their life in some way or another. I think Freeman then had something to say about our own perspectives of life, and how easily they can change. So even if we have a not so perfect life, this is normal... and there is always a hidden blessings to found!

Image URL: http://www.goodreads.com/book/show/680024.A_New_England_Nun_and_Other_Stories

Editha by William Dean Howells

I had never heard of William Howells before, but I have to say that after reading Editha for the first time, I am hungry for more of his work. Though his writings are not quite as physically dramatic as the plots of other authors, Howells chooses to engage his audience on inward conflicts between his characters, and their interactions with one another. Similar to The Red Badge of Courage by Stephen Crane though, he identifies a deeper struggle within the hearts of his character(s), and two lovers, Editha and George, as they try give up their own personal ideals of war for that of the other. This is a struggle, and one that signifies true love as giving up everything for the good of someone else. It is here that Howells, as a realist, not only wants to say something about the cause and purpose of war, but about the nature of the heart.

In this story Howell's chooses to write from the perspective of Editha who longs to see her lover become a real man worthy of her love, by joining the fight and cause for war. But for George, there is a different story to be told; one that may reveal something about the point Howells is trying to make.

George kept his head down as he walked towards the lane that led to his Editha's estate, and felt the soft breeze tickle him, seemingly pushing his legs toward an unknown destination across the silent field. "It's quiet out for the middle of the day,... at least under the circumstances", he thought, and wondered what the reason for it was. The efforts for war were in the air, there was no doubt about that, and he could feel its painstaking effects on him, with every post and notice for recruiters. His thoughts attacked him, "what good was the war anyway, except to hurt and destroy people and strip them of their livelihood? What good was it for men to go and give their lives, and always be bound to this undesirable, expected end of death? Was not there a way, that a person could contribute for freedom in the safety of his home and community? Why was it him they were calling for this, and not someone else?" George felt within himself a sense of loss, for he did not wish to go to war at all, and thought it better to honor himself and his country by becoming an honest worker at home. He was shocked at his cowardliness. But he knew Editha, and wanted to marry her. His feet grew heavy with each step at this thought. He knew what she would ask him, and he was not sure himself what he would say. Of course she would be in a pleasant mood, as she always likened to be, but he pondered what the result would be. George, approached the gate that led to the Balcom's house, and pushed it open against the beckoning wind. He had to be honest with her. He had to let her know how he felt despite her upcoming contradictions, for he could not, and would not love a lie. He caught sight of her, and his heart quicken. She was picture of beauty and elegance as she came down the veranda and called to him in her sweet voice. He felt his love pour out. She deserved someone to truly love her, and he wanted to be that someone. 

Image URL: http://americanaliterature.blogspot.com/2014/09/william-dean-howells-editha.html
Another link to an exciting take on the story!