The Great... Gabe?

            No one can escape rumors, but extended absences leave one particularly vulnerable to the power of fallacies. We all spread them and hear them about ourselves, yet they consistently vary in interpretation. You have your Gatsby’s, for instance, who live for the mystery and love staying elusive. They enjoy the extensive stories swirling around their name and only reveal truths when absolutely necessary. Although you sometimes have the temptation to hit them in the jugular, you continue to facilitate the stories and secretly find pleasure in the drama. Whenever you feel tired of these Gatsby’s, search for the Gabe’s in your life. He misses a few days of school for a family vacation and suddenly our class determines he needed to fly to Mexico in order to inspect his sector of the drug cartel. But in reality, he did not even visit Mexico. He went to Florida. Bland ol’ Florida. Nevertheless, upon his return, he exhibited nonchalance and did not act the least bit restrained when clarifying the truth. Score. Our class experienced all the fun of drama and mystery without the frustration of a character such as Gatsby. Not everyone lucks out like first period, and the complexity of rumors never ceases to amaze me. Any mystery or source of speculation causes rumors and gossip, so, really, Gatsby’s reserved nature and Gabe’s vacation to “Florida” do not have too many differences. I guess the only question that remains is when will you start throwing the massive ragers, Gabe?

Myrtle Wilson: the Original Black Friday Enthusiast

            After a day dedicated to giving thanks for one’s possessions, Americans believe the only logical follow-up involves trampling one another in order to nab the last marked-down Wii U on the second biggest shopping day of the year. Although my food coma consistently prevents me from experiencing the phenomenon of Black Friday, or anything involving movement, the affair never ceases to fascinate me. The dedication of hardcore shoppers who wait hours on end and put themselves in potentially life-threatening situations rivals that of Olympians, and I cannot resist reading about the ramifications of their quests.  Despite the humor these consumers provide, the repulsion for such extreme consumerism remains. However, with some attempted sympathy and after noting the similarities between Myrtle Wilson from The Great Gatsby and the Black Friday heroes, I began to understand their positions. Though both the shoppers and Myrtle appear very materialistic, their reasoning does not prove that illogical. The shoppers wait for hours and risk harm in order to save money. Myrtle cheats on her husband to achieve higher social status and have a wealthier life. Does anyone disagree with wanting wealth and social promise? The paths Myrtle and the extremist buyers take seems corrupt and excessive, their logic proves reasonable. For instance, during Tom and Myrtle’s party, the adulteress describes her extensive list of items she needs to purchase while with Tom (36). The novelist presents situational irony as Myrtle generally remains superficial, yet her decision to utilize Tom’s money, rather than her own, remains wise, but immoral. Although I do not condone Myrtle’s behavior in anyway, I recognize that the benefits and rewards of her risk prove worth it for her. Both parties, Myrtle and the deal seekers, put themselves in danger in order to achieve monetary benefits, and I have to respect their efforts. I differ in values from them, but I, too, have made extreme sacrifices for various items or circumstances I wanted acquire. I advocate that we all have a bit of Myrtle and the intense consumers within ourselves, we just need to look past our original moral judgments.

Pondering Purposes

       For an unknown reason, my dreams become something out of a Lewis Carroll novel whenever I try to conclude a stressful day with an afternoon nap. Yesterday’s dream proved no different: my mind concocted an alternate universe in which all of the AP English 12 students lived in a small cottage on a secluded island off the coast of Australia with Ms. Serensky as our housemother. I kid you not. I could not make this up if I wanted to. In this crazy world, Ms. Serensky would leave us at home alone each day to work on our short story worksheets; however, one this particular morning, we discovered a quidditch set and decided to orchestrate a tournament rather than analyze the significance of stealing thirty Big Macs. In the midst of the first match, a man, who bared a striking resemblance to the Misfit in “Black Hearts Bleed Red,” infiltrated our home and claimed the new quidditch set as his own. In this unrealistic universe, I stood up to the man and, in return, he shot me just to gain a quaffle, two bludgers and a snitch. Although, I have to admit, the snitch seemed pretty high-quality. Obviously, I woke up extremely confused and, as Ms. Serensky has taught me, began to look for a purpose or meaning in my imagination’s creation. Although I do not possess the amazing talents of Sigmund Freud, I still managed to come up with a variety of possible meanings, yet none seemed right. I found myself further empathizing with the public in “The Balloon,” we all stand searching for something that may or may not exist. A world of conceivable answers remains, but one can never know for sure. The author of the short story, Donald Barthelme, notes “all… motions… were within one's possibilities” in regards to the citizen’s reactions, highlighting the claim that the balloon can receive many different interpretations (2). Although the narrator hints of a purpose, he never reveals the true meaning behind the balloon, just as I will never know the reasoning for my in-depth death by quidditch. Furthermore, Barthelme states that the most important result of the balloon proved what people felt standing under it (3). This declaration uncovers the writer’s assertion that our personal interpretations of the world create the vital or uneventful impact of happenings. Through these ideas, “The Balloon” exemplifies the belief that all meaning proves constructed meaning, a thought that stands central to my personal ideals. We decide what matters and we instill these items or, in my case, dreams with significance. Although I can pinpoint a variety of interpretations of my strange dream as well as Barthelme’s balloon, I will never know whether these connections proved correct or incorrect. However, these constructed purposes can still have a monumental impact on my life. Perhaps the writer did not intend the balloon as a symbol of art, this connection still allows me to evaluate the role of arts and literature in my own life and grow from that thought exchange. Moreover, if I ponder the possibility that my dream means my civic duty stands as risking my health for literature, then I can use this connection to deeply evaluate my interest in writings and how important they remain to my being. Just as Barthelme depicts the limitless understandings of an event, I affirm that every occurrence has infinite purposes. As well, I advocate that the deeper analysis and questioning of the world enhances our lives, regardless of whether our conclusion proves the “right” or “wrong” answer.

The Klausner Within Us All

            As I scrolled down my Twitter feed yesterday, I could resist letting out a yelp of triumph upon reading the school cancellation announcement. However, my joy soon disintegrated as I thumbed down to the next tweet: “Death toll rises, thousands without power.” A wave of guilt swept over me as literal waves crushed homes just a few hours away; who knew such powerful juxtapositions existed outside of literary world? As Hurricane Sandy tore up more and more of the coast, my frustration increased proportionally. Reading posts about how great a hurricane seemed solely because it caused a school cancellation proved extremely irritating, and I found myself wanting to lash out at anyone praising the storm. But I never did. I realized the issue and never did anything about it until it proved too late. Consequently, while watching “the Sound Machine” today, it occurred to me that Klausner and I share this trait. Klausner acknowledges the plants’ pain, but continues to wound them and ruins the potential of his machine before it can truly make an impact. Moreover, I discovered a clear connection between the unsympathetic tweeters and the doctor. Both parties realize the pain and destruction; however, rather than acknowledging it, they choose to ignore the damage and focus on their own lives. As much I wanted to dismiss and judge Klausner and the doctor, I often act identically, and I assert that everyone does. The vast majority of humans prove guilty of this apathy and society even ignores this simple fact. Although I believe this issue necessitates amelioration, in reality, not all aspects of it stand as detrimental. Humans have inherently selfishness tendencies, and I believe the act of ignoring major issues exists as just another mechanism by which people allow for their own happiness. If everyone could feel the terrible pains of others, society would reduce to shambles. Generally, humans have the deepest and most intense reactions to the events that directly affect them or that they directly caused. Similarly, the most influential of the plants’ cries proves the one Klausner internationally generates. Yes, he sympathizes with roses cut by his neighbor, but the tree he stabs himself evokes unavoidable guilt and devastation. Not only does Dahl’s work highlight society’s tendencies to ignore its effects on the earth, it illuminates the overall tendency of people to disregard other’s issues for the sake of their own contentment. As with all generalizations, exceptions do occur, and I believe everyone needs to become one of these exceptions in order to truly sympathize with one’s neighbors. However, the troubles of the world recognized by all would lead to destruction and mass devastation. 

Insightful Olive

            Books offer readers a unique opportunity to see inside someone else’s head and live a different life, unveiling insights one may have never considered. Such is the case in the novel Olive Kitteridge by award-winning author Elizabeth Strout. Strout tells the chronicle of Olive Kitteridge through thirteen short stories focusing on various residents of Crosby, Maine as well as Olive herself at varying ages. The tales focusing on the Kitteridges at an older age especially resonated with me and taught me valuable lessons. After losing both of my grandmothers, I had never taken the time to truly comprehend their passing’s effect on my grandfathers, only how it impacted me. Through Strout’s depiction of Olive losing her husband, Henry, I began to genuinely understand and sympathize with my grandpas. For instance, after Olive’s friend and widower, Jack Kennison, declares that his wife had recently passed away, Olive states “Then, you’re in hell,” (55). Her short syntax and simple statement evokes pathos, generating empathy from those who have lost a loved one. Personally, Olive’s facile declaration allowed me to understand what my grandfathers have to deal with on a daily basis: a living hell. Moreover, Olive noted how young people do not understand that “aged… bodies were as needy as theirs,” (270). Through this simile, Strout asserts that humans, especially the youth, tend to forget that all people stand as equal and have the same needs, regardless of age; we all want to love and be loved. Admittedly, I have forgotten this more than once, but Olive’s cogitation combined with the portrayal of her loneliness allowed me to understand how important a thought it is. Throughout the novel, I would think back to the times where I would not stay home for a family dinner with one of grandfathers because I had plans to hang out with my friends and felt immense guilt. I used to treat outings with my friends as more important, despite seeing them every day, but Olive taught me to treat those you love equally as just that: equals. I believe Strout writes to people like me who did not take time to fully understand the struggles of aging in order to illustrate how much the elderly value companionship and that one should cherish each moment spent with loved ones.

Olives Have Layers

                Elizabeth Strout, a New York Times bestselling author, combines thirteen short stories about the residents of Crosby, Maine in order to tell the complex story of the title character in her 2008 novel, Olive Kitteridge. Written in modern-day America, where many have questioned if society has become progressively crueler, Strout depicts the growth of Olive Kitteridge and her struggle to overcome her husband’s stroke. Although I sympathize with Olive, her attitude in the first half of the novel appalled me. For instance, prior to his stroke, Henry solemnly noted how Olive has “’never once apologized. For anything,’” (123). Henry acts as a synecdoche of those who have experienced Olive’s cold personality and his defeated tone, implied through his short syntax, illustrates how frustrated Olive can make people, including her own husband. Strout evokes pathos by having Olive discourage Henry, who people repeatedly call a “’nice man;’” readers, including myself, who sympathize with kind, innocent men like Henry feel shocked by Olive’s harsh treatment of him (149). She mistreats various other characters throughout the novel’s first half; ergo, I did not feel particularly fond of Olive, despite my extreme compassion for her struggles. However, as the novel progressed, and especially after Henry’s stroke, Olive learned to contain her adverse thoughts, and I began to enjoy her character more. Olive even volunteers to help at a funeral because she knows Henry would have wanted to if he had the ability. At the event, she offers “’Put me to work, Molly’” (167). The novelist’s overall juxtaposition of Olive’s bossy past-self and her helpful, submissive self illustrates her attitude shift. Although Olive did not become an instant saint and still had negative thoughts, her efforts to act outwardly kind impressed me. My sympathy for her remained constant throughout the novel, but my overall opinion of Olive became progressively more positive as she began to internalize her criticism and assist others. I advise those who dislike Olive to acknowledge her difficult life and appreciate her efforts to become kindhearted. Furthermore, I encourage those who found themselves relating to Olive’s actions in the novel’s first half to mirror her attempt to increase her compassion.

Powerful Parallels

            Elizabeth Strout tells the story of Olive and Henry Kitteridge through delicately woven chapters, each resembling a short story, in her 2008 novel, Olive Kitteridge. Written in modern-day America where over 40% of marriages end in divorce or separation, the small tales mostly feature various relationships in the shared the setting of Portland, Maine, a small-town similar to the one Strout grew up in. The novelist’s reoccurring parallels between the various chapters appeal to me due to their unique way of both telling and showing Strout’s assertions. For instance, in “The Piano Player,” Angie O’Meara receives a visit from her vindictive ex-boyfriend, Simon. After Simon degrades Angie in order to compensate for his lost dreams, Angie describes his actions as “thin milk” (58). By comparing Simon’s actions to nutritionally insufficient thin milk, the author asserts that people rarely gain genuine salvation through vengeful actions. Rather, one achieves a temporary satisfaction that fails to eradicate the true source of their dismay. In the next narrative, the first of Olive’s own stories entitled “A little Burst,” Strout reverses her narrative position and illustrates the assaulting perspective through Olive. After her son Christopher’s wedding, Olive overhears her new daughter-in-law, Suzanne, criticizing her mother-in-law’s dress and the already agitated Olive reacts strongly. Olive resolves to steal a few of Suzanne’s clothing items and draw a black streak on Suzanne’s sweater; when looking back of her actions, Olive reckons “It does not help much,” (73). Strout juxtaposes the two chapters in order to demonstrate that neither side benefits from spiteful reactions, and the repetition of this idea emphasizes the assertion’s prominence. Furthermore, Strout anticipates the possible judgments of readers and, thus, positions Simon’s outburst prior to Olive’s in order to prevent overzealous criticisms of Olive as almost all of society has had a vengeful impulse. Although I believe these kneejerk reactions often prove unpreventable, I encourage excessively hostile readers to recognize the uselessness of their actions. Moreover, I advise victims to acknowledge instances where they have done the victimizing and understand the trivial nature of their assailant’s actions.