Writing Assignment 8 - The Sudden Loss of Something

Poem:

Deep beyond the grey sky

Lies a man with just one eye

They call him by his last name

It is his only claim to fame

He tried to do wrong amongst great powers

And he succeeded without a threat from Jack Bauer

Kosovo in the late 1990’s

Preface -

They say you had to be there to understand the conflict. They say you had to be there on the front lines to really know what the conflict was all about. I was there, fleeing for my life as they came to our homes. I don’t understand it though. I don’t think I will. I don’t think I will want to understand because I thought humanity had progressed, I thought that things were different. I thought that after World War II things changed. When Milosevic came into power, and I came to know what he represented, I resented him. And so the journey began, fleeing my home of Kosovo, the only home that I have always known.

The Beginning of the End

I sat down staring at my sparse things; photographs of my girlfriend of whom I would never see again and a single shot bolt action rifle. A few more trinkets littered my messy room. I looked around and saw a few audio tapes, my tape deck, a newspaper and my watch, a gift from my father. I put on my watch, slid a photograph out of a frame and into my back pocket, slung my rifle around my back, and grabbed my backpack and stuffed ammo and any food lying around my small apartment. I had to move fast. I could hear the distant rumble of a convoy. I only had to worry about my self, and I could move quickly.

I ran out of my apartment, down the narrow stairwell and out of the building. It was really cold outside, very cold and cloudy too. I ran around the back of the small apartment complex and out of the main road and headed to the forest just beyond our small town. I made my way up the hillside as fast as I could. My hands were shaking and my eyes teary from the cold and the wind. I stopped in the forest when I was out of view from the town’s perspective, but I could still see the town and stay hidden. I sat down on a dead tree stumps and drank some water from a water bottle. I made it.

A moment after drinking my water I saw a convoy pulling into town and a message being played over a loud speaker. There were still many people still in the town. They hadn’t got out in time. I couldn’t tell what the loudspeaker was saying from my position, but I saw several people exiting their homes and lining the streets. A man stepped out of a jeep and was yelling some orders. One of my townsfolk yelled back at him. The man who was from the convoy pulled out a handgun and pointed it at the other man’s head. He didn’t hesitate to pull the trigger. I heard the distant cries of screams so I grabbed my rifle, loaded a round and cocked it. I aimed down at the man with a pistol. I can hit a soda bottle from two hundred yards away; I can hit a head from one hundred and fifty. I hesitated though. There were about thirty other men in the convoy. I had enough ammo, but it was a matter of loading and cocking each round, aiming and hitting every target. No man is that good. I grabbed my rifle and ran up the hill and away from town.

The farther I got away from town, the less I escaped the gunfire echoing from town. I must have heard hundreds of rounds fired. I didn’t want to think that everyone I know was just executed and I did nothing to help them. I am here running like a coward, saving only myself.

The journey was exhausting; I didn’t know where I was going except to the border. I wanted to stay and fight, but it is useless. How can one man make a difference? I only thought that I need to survive so that I can tell my story and so that people can understand what happened and how to stop future threats. I am not a one man army. A few of my friends joined the resistance a few years back. I haven’t heard from them since. I don’t want to die in glory, I want to live.

About a hundred yards ahead I saw a small village. There were only a few homes. I saw some smoke billowing out of one of the homes. People! If I save someone I will feel much better about doing nothing before. Just then it started raining. It wasn’t normal, it was freezing rain. As I got closer into the town I saw a jeep pull up with three men inside, it was them. One of the men started yelling and a family came out of the only occupied home. There was a father, a wife and three children, two girls and a young boy of just a few years. One of the men from the jeep waltzed over to the family. I could see he had a pistol on his side. He was laughing and pointed to the ground.

The family laid on the ground as the man grabbed the pistol out of his holster. The rain picked up and it became harder to see. I grabbed my rifle and cocked it. I took steady aim. I was definitely in range. I had to act fast, there were two men standing near the jeep with their automatic rifles ready in their hands. Click. The round exited my gun and I loaded another round and cocked the gun. I pulled the trigger a second time as the men reacted and drew up their rifles. Two men down one to go. I put the third round in the rifle and cocked the gun and took aim. This third man had dropped to the ground to take cover. I had taken out the first two men in under three seconds. The rain picked up and a heard a bullet whiz past my ear. I heard another pop. He hit a tree just a few feet from my head. I took aim, but the man blended in with the mud and debris of the land. I fired and heard return fire. I missed, and luckily he missed too. I saw some movement, and carefully loaded another round. I spotted him and fired. The air grew silent amidst the torrential downpour. The family still was on the ground. Had I hit him? Was he dead? Was he waiting for me to get up?

I couldn’t wait any longer, I stood up but I was hit by something, but from behind. I looked down at my chest and saw blood dripping down my shirt. Another shot hit me. I fell to my knees. I saw the family ahead of me run and get into the jeep and drive off. Another shot hit me from behind. I turned around and saw about fifteen men who were on my trailer. At least I had saved someone. At least I had done something. At least someone had done something.

Questions Answered

The implications for joining an actual event and the imaginary characterization is that it makes that event real, as opposed to reading a statement of facts. You feel what they went through. When you read about how many people died, it doesn’t have the same effect as when you learn about a person, and then they are killed. You become connected. I haven’t read (at least not that I can think of) authors that have done this regularly, but I have in film. Any war movie, like “Apocalypse Now” that created imaginary characters in a real event of the Vietnam War is just one example. To know how reliable a piece of writing (or a film) is, you just have to use common sense. If they were there, they can tell a better story than anyone else. You also have to do research to see if their stories line up with the ‘facts’ and also compare them to other accounts. I don’t think there a most ‘reliable’ way of telling the account of an event. You have to look at it from every angle if you want the whole picture. You look at from both sides, from the little man and the leaders and the historians and the autobiographies. The writings on the walls stir up passions, but for this piece I wanted to start from scratch. I chose this event because I wanted to write about someone who was torn about fighting back or running away, and this event gave an opportunity for both.

Writing Journal “If this is a man”

The opening poem puts you in a state of mind that forces you to try to understand the inhumanity. We must not forget the things we have, that we take for granted. Taking these things for granted will tear us apart, reduce us.

Poem: Don’t take for granted what you have and who you are.

The narrator is pragmatic, impersonal, poetic and very descriptive. Because he usually speaks in the ‘we’ format or the third person, and rarely speaking about himself, the narrator draws us more into the story, and to feel like one of his comrades. This is essential for us to sympathize with the narrator, because he is not telling us a story, he is involving us in the story.

Moment:

“Cleary they will kill us, whoever thinks he is going to live is mad, it means that he has swallowed the bait, but I have not; I have understood that it will soon all be over, perhaps in this same room, when they get bored of seeing us naked, dancing from foot to foot and trying every now and again to sit down on the floor. But there are two inches of cold water and we cannot sit down.”

This moment is the strongest in the story because this moment in a humans’ life that has been torn down so much that there is no hope for life. All humanity has been stripped away, he cannot even sit down. The sad part about this moment, is that it gets worse from here on out. At this point, though, he has accepted this. That is what makes it so powerful.

Dialogue (Assignment 7)

The morning sun rose. Judgment day had passed. Gennaro the bishop of Benevento, his deacon Fetus, and his other followers Proculus, Socius, Desiderius, Eutyches, and Acutius were all sentenced to death by fire. Gennaro awoke first in the cell and spoke to his followers.

“Praise to the Lord.” The other six men in the cell began to crawl off of their stone tablets and rub their eyes as the sun slowly enveloped the room. The light came through the three bars that were holding them from their freedom. “Now that we are all awake, let us pray in silence.”

They all prayed in silence for about ten minutes when a guard came by and knocked on the bars. The guard spoke to them and said “Get up you, time for your last journey, and then you can be with your gods.”

“We only have one God, the one true God.” Fetus said with great pride. Everyone in the cell except Gennaro who was still praying held him back from speaking anymore. The cell door opened and the seven men filed out of the cell and out of the prison. They were led by two guards on a path that ended on the horizon. The sun had risen a bit more since they left the prison and the day grew warmer and warmer.

“I wonder if God will spare us.” Proculus said. The others looked at him with acknowledgement.

“I am sure He will.” Socius replied and then looked around and marveled at the rolling country side and the pristine ocean. Socius ached, and did not want to leave this land and depart to the afterlife. Socius had not spoken to God as the others said they had done. Socius did not feel the bliss and ecstasy from prayer and mediation. He simply found the Christian religion to be the most logical.

“Do not test God Socius. He will deliver us from the fire of Hades and we shall ascend to Heaven, for it is written, and it shall be done.” Gennaro spoke with a very eloquent tone. The others were mesmerized, all but Socius.

“Why must the faithful perish, why can’t we fight?” Socius already knew the answer to this rhetorical question that none would answer. Socius had studied the New and Old Testament more than the others. “There are still so many to preach to. We are much more knowledgeable than others; there are still so many places to spread the word.” Socius words were lost on the followers.

“Only you can choose your own path. At the final judgment you may be tempted to take the easy, beaten path. The path to righteousness will be most difficult.” Gennaro spoke and the others nodded in agreement.

“Can one not choose the right path but also live a full gratifying life? Can we not enjoy the things that God provides for us? Do you not enjoy sitting in the shade on a hot afternoon Acutius? Do you not enjoy the pleasant sweetness of the pomegranate Eutyches? And you, Desiderius, do you not take pleasure in a warm bath?” Socius spoke, but noticed that the men were already dead set on their path. He applauded their diligence and faith, but scorned their lack of free thought.

“You keep posing questions to answers that you already know. There is no more philosophizing to be done, for it has already been done. But it is not philosophy, but inspiration from Yahweh. You know this better than most.” Gennaro stated in a peaceful manner, but was growing impatient with Socius ramblings as he feared that it would spread like locust among the group.

“Our end is very grim. Do you not fear death? If you do not fear death, surely you must fear pain. I have yet to meet a man that could stand a simple burn from flint let alone the fiery furnaces. You must under stand this.” Socius spoke as the others zoned out in quiet meditative state. Only Socius and Gennaro engaged in any human contact.

“God will be at my side now and always. Do not fear pain, fear God.” Gennaro spoke in a more forceful manner, eager to return to his meditative state, but did not understand that for every time he replied to Socius’ rants, it only made Socius want to continue.

“You fear God because it is written that you must fear God. I fear pain because I feel pain.” Socius said.

“The word is God. It is more real than life.” Gennaro said. As they continued to walk an amphitheatre came into view. Near the amphitheatre was a clay building with smoke billowing out of the chimney. The roar of bears and lions echoed from the arena. Upon hearing and seeing these things, Socius fell to his knees and began praying to God. When the others saw this, they also fell to their knees. The guards didn’t mind this, as they received a much needed break from their long arduous journey.

Questions Answered

I chose c at random. Surely there is no random. I think I chose it because I like lions and bears. Writing dialogue is easy. Writing convincing dialogue is very hard. Further, to make character development from dialogue is pretty easy because all you touch and all you see is all your life will ever be. That includes dialogue, because it is how we present ourselves and interact with others. They say that body language is 90% of dialogue or something like that. You can’t really write that kind of thing, it is all interpreted subconsciously. The visual work didn’t really help because we had to write about before the moment. Rome and Naples are different, Naples becomes a ghost town at night and Rome is always awake. I guess that means I would write at night in Naples because the city is gloomy at night which would have a solemnly affect.

Reading Journal 7

How is the concept of wealth developed in Juvenal’s satires?

Wealth for Juvenal in his time is of great excess, but that excess never trickles down. The rich are hypocrites, that they have no honor.

How is this different or similar to that of Twain’s development of the same subject in Innocents Abroad?

While both attack the rich for pretty much the same reasons, (Twain talks more of the excesses of the church), but Twain is more subtle and funny.

What role does hypocrisy play in relation to these concepts of wealth in both authors’ satirical works?

In Juvenal, it is about a lack of honor. The rich boast that they have it, but show they are base. The poor throw it away for scraps of food. In Twain, again it is about the Church, who are supposed to be helping the poor, the weak. Instead, the churches are overly lavish with gold while beggars are dying outside.

How are the themes of sedition and free speech in Juvenal similar/different to those in Twain’s satire?

Both feel that, even with free speech, neither would have anything worthwhile to say.

How are artists, poets, and patrons of the arts depicted similarly/differently by the two authors?

In both works, the poets and artists are slaves to the patron’s wishes. They are not really expressing their art so much as producing for bread.

What is “noble” according to Juvenal’s narrator?

Those that are noble are more than just a name and title; they must express good nature and chivalry. They are law abiding and faithful to the people.

Cite a passage from each of the four satires by Juvenal which amused you and say why. What literary mechanisms or rhetorical devices did Juvenal use for each?

“Of course I was born on the banks of Euphrates, that my earrings would prove, no matter how much I denied it.” – Sarcasm

“In comes a lobster, immense, in fact, too large for the platter.” – Hyperbole

“But should a god, or some chap who looked like a god.” – Sarcasm

“Nothing will bring you more friends than a wife who is certified barren.” - Sarcasm

Satire Story - This one is really good.

Inauguration of the First Female President of the United States of America

January 20, 2381

“My fellow Americans, today history was made. Never before has a female candidate made it past the primaries, and never even made the primaries in those defunct Democrat and Republican parties. I stand before you today, men, women, land dwelling dolphins, sign language gorillas and the many new aliens, or rather Americans that now live with us today. I have always found it disheartening that the intelligent male species were always elected before their female counterpart. It has always been an uphill battle for women. Hundreds of years ago, women couldn’t even vote. Today, a woman was elected to the most powerful nation in the tri-galaxies. I applaud for the day when female gorillas and dolphins are elected to this most sacred position.

As many of you know, I had a turbulent childhood. I was an orphan, raised by an interspecies couple of a land dwelling dolphin and my uncle Ricky. Countless times in my grade school years I was tormented because of this. My parents told me that in time, Americans would get over their prejudices. For example, the gorillas fought long and hard for their right to vote. They should have not had to fight. We Americans are about accepting people. We must remember this. We must never forget that we were all pilgrims,” Busty Aquarius pronounced in front of an audience of 23 billion.

“I wasn’t a pilgrim!” A Native American named Frank yelled.

“Your people crossed a land bridge made of ice thousands of years ago; that makes you a pilgrim of sorts.” Busty spoke, trying to regain her composure. She issued to the Secret Service to escort the nuisance out of the building of diehard Whigs.

“You know nothing of…” Frank said as his mouth was covered and thrown out of the building.

Busty looked at the audience. Had nothing changed? No one respected her. She simply bought her way into the primaries as others had done long before her. But still, she had paid her dues. This position was rightfully hers. No one could take that from her. Her destiny started today, she was ready for anything or anyone.

“Still, we are in a dark time. The Martians, long our ally in the two galaxy wars have broken off from us. Contact between us has lessened in these last few years. The Grand Arch Duke Dictator Maya III has steadily built up more and more doomsday devices that were banned after Galaxy War II, when trillions of Venusians were obliterated. They must put a stop to the build up of arms, and placing these devices on the moon, in such a close vicinity of Mother Earth. Though the Martians have long been our ally, they are socially backwards. They still do not allow gay marriage. We do not tolerate the intolerant!”

“We are asexual you idiot.” A young Martian named Julian announced, before being grabbed by the Secret Service and thrown out of the building.

Busty lost it and started crying on intergalaxial TV. The Grand Arch Duke Dictator Maya III upon seeing the weakness of the newly elect president decided to test her. It told the General of doomsday devices to blow up Greenland (the seventy sixth state of America). The General passed the orders down to the General at the Earth Moon region 64 87. The order was executed and Greenland disappeared from the map, as well as from Earth.

Back in Washington DC a Secret Service agent grabbed the crying president and took her away to a small room where several Generals were waiting for her.

“Misses President, Greenland was vaporized. Probably Martians.” One seven star General stated, then sat back in his big cushy chair. Busty had stopped crying, and then sat down in chair, twiddling her hair.

“What should we do now?” Busty asked, looking around the room for some sympathy.

“We should execute plan 8675309!” One young six star General exclaimed.

“For those who don’t know what plan 8675309 is, inform them now.” Busty said, looking around the room as if she knew what the answer was. Everyone in the room knew the answer but her.

“Well,” the young general stated, looking confused, as he assumed everyone knew the answer, “Plan 8675309 is we blow up Mars. Back in 2134 when the drilling began on Mars, there had been a lot of suspicion that if we dug too deep, we would unleash hell. So, we planted every nuclear warhead man had ever made and stuffed it in cave and locked it up. As we dug deeper on Mars, we met the Martians, and the rest, as they say, is history.”

Little did anyone know, as the Martians are a more advanced society, and had invented nuclear weapons six thousand years before the humans, and had also put an end to nuclear warfare and stuffed all of their nuclear weapons in a cave in Earth. This cave was never found. The Martians also had a spy implanted into the president. When hearing the plan of the Americans, the Martians executed their plan to detonate Earth, and Earth was no more.

Questions Answered:

I thought that the idea of Female President would be something that could be easy to satirize. I sort of got this idea from Machiavelli’s Belfagor, that women corrupted men. And here, women would be the end of the Earth. Writing satire is very challenging; I should leave it to the experts, and instead try to construct interesting stories. I don’t know what you mean by round and flat characters, I wrote what I wrote, and that is what I did. I didn’t return to Mark Twain, as I was trying a different route than Twain (I think). Mark Twain is the master of satire. I couldn’t even try to imitate. I know what he is doing, but I can’t do it.

Mark Twain - Journal Entry

Characters Satirized:

Italy: No consideration for its people, only its image.

The Church: Extravagant, overwhelming, and decadent

Florence: Church saps the land

Medici: Vermin

Raphael: Worked only for money

Civitavecchia: Plain, unclean, as advanced as Turkey

America: Freedom, independence, intelligence, without Church as guiding power, wide open

St. Peter: Vastness cannot be comprehended with other monuments of size

Colosseum: The brutality as a parallel to today’s violence

Judge Oliver: Patience and wouldn’t complain.

Michelangelo: He made everything.

French Guide: Ignorant of English humor, overly passionate

William H. Neligan: Pretentious, taking things with a handful of salt.

Humor:

“Marcus Marcellus Valerian (Stage name – his real name is Smith)” Taking an exotic Latin name and converting it to the basest English name.

“However, another beggar approaches. I will go out and destroy him and then come back and write another chapter of vituperation.” Twain talks about how horribly the people are treated and treats them the same.

“We got along first-rate with the friar, and were excessively conversational, albeit he could not understand what we said, and certainly he never uttered a word that we could guess the meaning of.” Twain pulls a complete reversal here.

“This Civitavecchia is the finest nest of dirt, vermin and ignorance…” Twain uses oxymoron’s here.

“The women wash clothes half the day, at the public tanks in the streets, but they are probably somebody else’s” How could this tourist know this from such a short time. It is a big time assumption, but it is hilarious all the same.

“I never felt so fervently thankful, so soothed, so tranquil, so filled with a blessed peace as I did yesterday when I learned that Michelangelo was dead.” Once again Twain takes something that is nice and pulls a full reversal on you.

Super Bowl Sunday

I won't be able to watch the game until Midnight, but I can't wait to see the Colts kill the Bears. Too bad there are a lot of Bears fan in Rome, I better watch my back.

Character Sketch - Writing Assignment 5

Chris awoke early in the morning just before the sun rose. He always awoke before the alarm would go off, but left it on just to be on the safe side. This would start his normal routine, whether it is Sunday, Monday or Friday. It is always the same. After awaking in his penthouse on the 43^rd floor, he would enter his personal gym. Always doing the same amount of push ups, pull ups, crunches and curls would be the routine, followed by a seven mile run. This morning was no different. As everyone else was asleep, Chris walked on his marble floor under his eighteen foot ceilings, all white and barren.

After the work out, Chris took a shower, dried off with his Egyptian cotton towel, and put on his grey Armani suit, just delivered before he woke this morning. Chris stared blankly into a mirror as he styled his perfect haircut. When finished getting ready, he took the elevator to the ground floor, greeted by his driver. The driver nodded, not saying a word. Chris looked at the driver with contempt, and just a hint of disgust. Chris knew he was better than him in every way. Better looking, better dressed, much wealthier were a few of the values that Chris judged his driver by. But Chris wasn’t going to drive himself, so he sat in the back and tried to think of anything other than wanting to kill his driver, that ugly man.

But Chris wasn’t going to kill his driver today, it would soil his Armani suit that he had just had cleaned. The traffic was like any other day, slow and congested. Chris wasn’t bothered by the traffic; he reclined in his Maybach with a bored look on his face and flipped through his gold credit cards. When they arrived at the office, Chris’ driver opened the door and let him out. The sky was sunny but the air was cool. Another VP pulled up in his Maserati, only to have a valet park it for him. Chris was a VP as well; in fact there were five VPs, and one president who was supposed to announce his succession any day now. Chris didn’t expect this other VP to be back so soon from Milan, especially not with a brand new Armani suit, grey with thin white stripes. Chris looked at him and felt his throat sink, and got a cold shiver up his spine and down his arms. Who was this VP trying to impress with a brand new Armani suit from Milan? Chris’ mouth dried up and couldn’t say anything to him, but instead got on a different elevator than him.

As Chris tried to enter his office, he was stopped by his secretary, a tall thin blonde that he hand picked, and could have at any time if he wanted, but didn’t. He had to be in the meeting room at ten am. Today must be the day of the succession, and today Chris was wearing a second rate Armani suit. The Armani store was at least 30 minutes away in this traffic; he couldn’t get to the store and back unless he ran. Chris stripped in his office and found the only thing that he could run in, a tiny pair of swimming trunks and his undershirt. None of his shoes could do either; all were leather and about four thousand a pair. He would have to bare foot it. He had done worse things to get where he was, much worse.

In swim trunks, a wife beater and bare feet, Chris left his office to pass by another VP in an Armani suit from last year and a forty dollar haircut, no competition there. The VP laughed at him as Chris walked by, and Chris couldn’t think of a better thing to do but to put a knife in his back, and he was the perfect clothing to do it. He just didn’t have a knife, so he proceeded to the elevator hoping to avoid the president.

He saw the president coming out of the elevator so Chris darted into the stairwell. It was nine fifteen, Chris had lingered too long. He ran down one level, got into an elevator and headed to the ground floor. On the ground floor another one of the VP’s was chatting with a young brunette clerk. His Armani suit was at least a couple years old, and his hair was greased back, not to mention twenty minutes late to work. Chris ran out of the building and turned the corner running full speed. It was great that Chris was in such good shape, or he wouldn’t have made it to the store on time. The manager at the Armani store already had his measurements, and had a new blue suit imported form Milan a few days ago ready for Chris. Chris handed a gold credit card, grabbed his suit and ran back to the office at full speed.

As Chris showered in the gym downstairs he saw another one of the VP’s come in after a quick work out. This VP was sculpted like a Greek hero. Chris looked at his legs, which were very lean and not nearly as muscular as this VP. Chris ran out of the shower and put on his new suit and headed toward the office, he still had five minutes to spare when he reached his office floor. Chris walked into the office, the first one in there and sat to the right of where the president sits and waited patiently. This was the biggest moment of his life, well that would be CEO, but he was one step closer. Fifteen minutes passed and the rest of VP’s filed in, followed by the president. They all came in at the same time. They must have been talking to the president for those ten minutes. Chris’ mouth went dry and his eyes went into the back of his head. He didn’t even hear that he would be the next president until he was congratulated by another one of the VP’s after the meeting.

It didn’t sink in for Chris right away. He was at another level. His new suit wouldn’t do. His drivers wouldn’t do. His VP’s wouldn’t do. Nothing would do. Chris looked around his office with contempt. How could Chris work with these people? They were wearing the same clothes that he had worn three years ago, and styling their hair like he had a year ago. The sheep, these vermin disgusted Chris.

Chris had his secretary call his driver as thought of how he would arrange his new corner office. He would have to get all new furniture. The current president’s office looked like a library. That simply wouldn’t do. Chris took the elevator to the base floor and got into his car, and told the driver to go to a place he had been many a time.

Chris entered the old building outside of town and headed up a narrow staircase, careful to not get dust on his new suit. He knocked on a beaten up old mahogany door, and the mail slot opened up. Chris put in a thousand dollars and got a small plastic bag of cocaine back. Chris wasn’t particularly fond of cocaine, but it was necessary for the parties he attended. He put the cocaine in his pocket and left the building.

Tonight would be a big retiring party for the leaving president. All of the same sorry sycophants would be there. The cocaine was necessary, and a lot of Cristal. Tonight was the night to end all nights, to show that Chris was more than everyone else. He would wear his best suit, his best watch; he would get a new two hundred and fifty dollar hair cut, he would get a new car, a sports car and drive it himself. He would get a gun and a permit for a concealed weapon. He would get it all.

Questions Answered

I chose this character because I wanted to have a character that had ‘everything’ still feel insecure with all that he has. I found it really challenging to not develop a story or dialog to compliment the character. I tried to make the character familiar with a lot of flaws, so that we really didn’t know too much about the past of the character. I tried to do give things away about the character without saying too much. I wanted to try and keep things subtle, and put a little humor in the piece to show how much and what he would do to get that position, when the decision was probably already made.

Reading Journal on George Eliot

Dorothea: Obedient, Emotional, Unfulfilled, Ignorant, and Sassy.

“Permanent rebellion, the disorder of a life without some loving reverent resolve, was not possible to her; but she was now in an interval when the very force of her nature heightened its confusion.” (p. 182)

Dorothea was at a crossroads, with no clear direction given her naïve nature.

Mr. Casaubon: Intelligent, Earnest, Faithful, Clueless, and Superficial.

“He had not found marriage a rapturous state, but he had no idea of being anything else than an irreproachable husband, who would make a charming young woman as happy as she deserved to be.” (p. 187)

Mr. Casaubon was ignorant of the state of his marriage, and he felt that he was doing all he could to please his wife.

Will Ladislaw: Sympathetic, Blunt, Arrogant, Cheerful, and Honest.

“Will, however, having given that annihilating pinch, was rather ashamed, imagining from Dorothea’s silence that he had offended her still more; and having also a conscience about plucking the tail feathers from a benefactor.” (p. 195)

Will was sympathetic to Dorothea, but also did not want to give the wrong impression to Mr. Casaubon.

- The most important responsibilities for creating a character are creating the most realistic characters by placing them in mundane and unpleasant situations, and let their thoughts speak for them. Yes George Elliot practices what she preaches, because the characters were very boring, in a mundane situation, and the characters had many attributes that were conflicting with themselves and with each other.