Gun Control: A Proposal

Due to recent tragedies the topic of gun control is once again at the head of every conversation, usurping the top spot from such equally-deserving articles as the war on terrorism, defending our borders, politics, and the “fiscal cliff.” What makes the issue of gun control so volatile and passionate is the fact that many mass murders, most involving children as the prime victims, seem to be gaining prevalence, increasing with commonplace regularity. Though, for the most part, the loss of any human life is tragic, when crimes and atrocities involving children are made known to us, they cut deeper as children, we sentimentally believe, are innocents, thus not deserving of the cruel fate sometimes visited upon them. Be it Kony, blood diamonds, sweat shops, or a homeless child who has not eaten in several days, our hearts and minds are always reaching out to those too weak to fight for and save themselves.

            Gun control: two words that, at the moment, spark billions of words of debate. Gun control: two words that divide Americans as much as religion and politics. Gun control: is there a simple answer to this, or will some 15,000-page bill filled with 14,950 pages of pork get passed in some vain attempt to appease both side of the argument? If we leave things to the politicians without voicing our own concerns, then that may very well be what happens. On the other side of that coin, however, is the emotional aspect of the debate. I have always said—and will always continue to say—that one must be passionate about the things for which he or she stands while completely removing him/herself emotionally from the situation, and that is what must happen here and now: we must cast aside the rose-colored glasses that offer a promised glimpse of Utopia and see things for how they truly are.

Will guns ever be outlawed? Surely not, but I believe regulation can and must be implemented to reign in more control. “If you outlaw guns, then only outlaws will own guns.” This stupid sentiment has been expressed before, and not just with guns, but with motorcycles, drugs, and alcohol. I call this a stupid sentiment because it is so blatantly obvious, is it not? I mean, if we outlaw Kool-ade, then only outlaws will own Kool-ade. Get the point? If we outlaw anything, then only outlaws will own these things. Getting back to guns, what if they were outlawed? What if only outlaws owned guns? For those of you who own a weapon, do you relish the idea of someone breaking into your home, brandishing a weapon, and forcing you to empty your safe, or have sex, or anything else without at least a means by which to fight back? I personally do not own a gun of any kind, but I will not take away that right from one who does. The outlaw does not care, and the police are not always there to serve and protect, which is why I believe the adage about “If you outlaw guns…” is absurd. Regulation of some kind needs to be implemented, and I have a few ideas as to just how said regulation should be imposed.

I will admit I am ignorant of current regulations. I generally like to research a topic before committing to an article, but in this case I am just flying by the seat of my pants, hoping that I can add a little common sense to the argument. Okay, here is my proposal: First, I think whenever a weapon is manufactured the serial number should be sent to the NSA. Each weapon should be fired once and all forensic and ballistic information accompany the serial numbers. A list of where each weapon is being shipped—retailers foreign and domestic—should accompany this information. Whenever a weapon is purchased, the buyer should supply name, address, and phone number, along with SSN or other identifying standard—this is obtained through the background check—along with his or her fingerprints, to distinguish him or her as the purchaser/ owner of the weapon. If the weapon is purchased as a gift, then both the purchaser and recipient shall provide their information and fingerprints. The NSA will house this information in the NCIC so all law enforcement agencies will have access to it.

Second, any person who purchases a weapon must advise the NSA when the weapon has been sold, stolen, lost, or is no longer functional. If sold, the buyer and seller will report to local authorities to have the weapon lawfully transferred using the methods described in the previous paragraph. Local authorities, in turn, will submit paperwork to the NSA to show transference of property. If stolen or lost, the owner will report this immediately to local authorities who, again, will inform the NSA. If no longer functional, this too must be reported, and the weapon turned over—the owner will receive a stipend unless the weapon in question is antique, carrying intrinsic value, at which point he or she would receive monies comparable to market value. In all four cases, the responsibility of the owner to inform the NSA remains even though local authorities shall do the same: it is a double security measure that will prevent losing the information as the class or ownership of the weapon is redefined.

Third, no weapon may be modified from its original state of manufacture: plain, simple, and to the point. Furthermore, weapons companies will no longer manufacture weapons that can be modified, interchangeable, etc.

If any gun owner does not adhere to these rules, regardless of circumstance, then he or she will lose the privilege to own or fire a weapon for the duration of his or her life.

It may seem that I am picking on the gun owners here, but the reality of this is that I am trying to protect them. By imposing these rules, it truly would mean that not following them would make one an outlaw, and that outlaw has no business owning a weapon.

Will these measures, in and of themselves, completely eradicate senseless violence? Of course not, and we would be fools to think so, but it is a start. Sadly, these measures cannot tell us who is harboring homicidal tendencies, and if you couple that with the surfeit availability of unregistered weapons illegally entering our country and ending up on our streets, things still seem to be in favor of he or she who would commit these malicious acts of terrorism, but by imposing regulations we are, at the very least, still allowing those forthright in their belief in the America of our forefathers, the right to bear arms.

Final Essay: The Ties that Bind

Duncan S. Jackson

ENG 1105

Charles Ellis

December 11, 2012

Final Essay: The Ties that Bind

            At the beginning of this semester I chose five novels that, in the past, I had every intention of getting around to reading, but never quite made it so far as there was always something else, be it an assignment or some other book for my personal pleasure, that kept my time occupied. The beauty of independent study is that I was finally able to lay to rest my procrastination and fulfill both assignment and passion with the literary classics I chose to read and analyze: The Pearl, by John Steinbeck; Heart of Darkness, by Joseph Conrad; Lord of the Flies, by William Golding; The Art of War, by Sun Tzu; and Uncle Tom’s Cabin, by Harriet Beecher Stowe. These novels would prove to broaden my horizons as they reaffirmed my love of and for the written word, just as my analysis of each cultivated the belief that one should never judge a book by its cover, and especially in the case of Heart of Darkness and Art of War, that a single reading does not always give proper perspective of the work.

            Surprisingly, especially considering the fact that they were picked at random, the books share a few common themes that allowed for effortless transitioning from one to the next, even though each was stylistic, refreshing, and original in its own right. The first to be examined is the theme of escape, and whether it comes in the form of Kino wishing to escape his paltry existence and provide a better future for his wife and child, as is the case in The Pearl; Kurtz’s desire to escape the trappings of civilized society, as is the case in Heart of Darkness; Ralph’s yearning to escape the island that threatens to change the boys to savages—he longs to return to the civility and morality that Kurtz so willingly left behind—as is the case in Lord of the Flies; a warrior’s quest to escape defeat and subsequent oppression at the hands of his enemy, as is the case in The Art of War; or every slave’s hunger to escape the bondage he or she has been placed under with his or her purchase—and let us not forget great characters such as Augustine St. Clare, Mr. Wilson, or the Quakers, all of whom fought so resolutely against the prescribed norm to ensure enslaved blacks were treated with kindness, fairness, and respect—as is seen in Uncle Tom’s Cabin, the passion that guides these legendary characters—and my heart along with them—is bittersweet as my escape into their world is riddled with the pain and fear, as well as the joy, bravery, and positive outlook they maintain even in the face of adversity.

            Another theme shared by all is that of theology. We have but to view Kino, Juana, and Coyotito’s journey as that of Joseph, Mary, and Jesus’. Just as Herod had mandated that all the children should be killed in order to preserve his crown, an act that prompted the exodus from Bethlehem, so, too, do the characters of Steinbeck’s classic journey even as assassins track them for a pearl that promises much stature and power to its owner. In Heart of Darkness, it is not so much that Kurtz has imposed his will upon the tribal peoples, subjugating them into proclaiming him a god or even their god; they seem to do this of their own volition, and, in Marlowe’s eyes, Kurtz himself transcends even this, becoming more of a god than civilized Christians could proclaim of their own. Baal, literally translated as The Lord of the Flies, takes from Judeo-Christian superstition the demonic entity who is known to be one of the earliest manifestations of anti-Christian worship. His presence on the island plays well against Ralph’s “Jesus.” When speaking of Heaven in The Art of War, Sun Tzu referenced not godly beings and supernatural phenomena that existed in spiritual form above him, but the atmospheric conditions that could very well play into one winning or losing a battle. He does, however, adhere to the precepts spoken of in the Bible, that one should care for his brother (literal or otherwise) and put others before him-or herself; there is also a bit of “Render unto Caesar” in his teachings. Last, with Uncle Tom’s Cabin, we have before us a story so chokingly filled with Christian religion that one can scarcely make it through the story without feeling he or she is being preached to; the fact that the characters have these beliefs is acceptable, but it is when Ms. Stowe continuously loops a sermon to us from beginning to end that the distraction ensues.

            Without going into much detail, the final theme would be confronting the great unknown. For Kino, it is improving his station in life; for Kurtz, Marlowe, and perhaps even the Narrator, it is overcoming the heart of darkness that not necessarily teems all around us, but dwells within; for Ralph, it is absence of civility and morality; for Sun Tzu, it is a fear of not living up to the expectations of his emperor as well as his subordinates; and for Tom and the other slaves, it is that strange and beautiful thing called freedom.

            There are themes independent and indigenous to each of these books, and there are times when a single reading will not manifest those hidden meanings to us. Reading is not a chore, and it certainly should not be treated as punishment. It is a luxury that some take for granted, but in doing so, they deny themselves the beauty and escape—even for so limited a time—for which we all may secretly wish.

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Analysis of "Uncle Tom's Cabin"

Duncan S. Jackson

English 1105

Charles Ellis

December 7, 2012

Analysis of “Uncle Tom’s Cabin”

            How best should one approach a literary classic written at a time in our nation’s history when acceptance of said work would prove to be instrumental in changing the shape and course of the country, its inhabitants, and their future? Do we, as modern-day critics of pre-antebellum literature, dismiss altogether, or, at the very least, diminish in value the significance the work holds by simple virtue of the fact that it is dated, has served its purpose, thus no longer relevant? Santayana’s quote, “Those who cannot remember the past are condemned to repeat it” (284), reminds us of the reverence we must hold for our history, terrible as some aspects of it may be, and why, even today, Uncle Tom’s Cabin is a piece of not-so-much fiction that continues to enlighten as it entertains.

            Prior to opening the book, I must confess, I had already developed preconceived notions of what Harriet Beecher Stowe’s classic would entail. This, no doubt, came about through years of listening to other’s opinions on the book without scarcely turning the first page, and while I left my prejudiced opinions on the doorstep, as it were, once I entered her “Cabin,” I found the décor to be both refreshing and unpleasant; prominent and inconspicuous; profound and shallow.

            Ms. Stowe immediately ingratiates herself to the reader by way of placing herself on his or her own level, much the way Stephen King addresses his “constant reader” throughout the pages of his many books and stories; her colloquial solicitations of “dear reader” (129), “let us” (139), “our readers” (74), and “rise to our view” (149) solidify the solidarity she wishes to garner and ignite from a narrative that reads more like an essay, or even a personal letter from she to her audience, and she successfully moves from the office of friend to narrator to author and back again without leaving the reader behind. It is easily discernible, while reading the book, that Ms. Stowe is indeed personally telling us the story, a fact she acknowledges throughout the text with comments such as, “Many of my lady readers must…” (259) and “Perhaps some of my readers conjure up…” (300), as well as owning up to this fact, while speaking of herself in the third person, in the final chapter of her commentary.

            Prevalent in the story, to the point of detraction and distraction, is the constant sermon Ms. Stowe wishes to minister to her audience. No doubt, this comes about as the result of the upbringing she received in her strict Christian home; her father, Lyman, a Calvinist minister, and her brother, Henry, who went on to forge a successful ministry in his own right, had a great spiritual impact on her life (lkwpdl.org). Even still, her arguments through narration—“the Man of Sorrows, the Lord of Glory […] bears the anguish of the world” (127-8), forces upon us the belief that we will have to answer for our transgressions “In the day of future Judgement” (129) —as well as those she reveals through the dialogue of her characters, suggest that the Judeo-Christian God equals Good, and political and social agendas should keep Him at the forefront of every decision, and failure to do so is “cruel and unchristian” (81).

            Ms. Stowe sets the table for her view that the duty of the Abolitionist falls within the duty of the Christian, at least in regards to her Northern brethren, but she does give equal time for the Southern view as well, that being that Noah’s curse upon his son Ham’s descendants is what allows for slavery in the world in general, and the southern United States more specifically: “‘It is undoubtedly the intention of Providence that the African race should be servants—kept in a low condition’ said […] a clergyman. ‘Cursed be Canaan; a servant of servants shall he be,’ the Scripture [Gen. 9:25] says’” (121); sandwiched between the two, an historical representation of Abolitionist Quakers (gmu.edu) is depicted as well (129). Luckily for the reader, the voice of reason in the Southern argument comes from Augustine St. Clare, who poses to his wife, “Why don’t [preachers] carry it a little further, and show […] of a fellow’s taking a glass of wine too much, and sitting a little too late over his cards […]; we’d like to hear that those things are right and godly, too” (174). Augustine can best be described as an agnostic, and views himself as a savior of sorts within the dark practice of slave ownership, and he certainly will not hold any belief that “the Bible was on our side, and supported all our institutions so convincingly” (173), as his wife enthusiastically informs him.

Further exploring the Southern mentality towards blacks and religion, Marie St. Clare says of Africans, “I’m sure they can go to church when they like, though they don’t understand a word of the sermon, more than so many pigs—so it isn’t of any great use for them to go” (168). Servile animals who, upon their journey’s end to America, were forced to give up their Muslim and Obeahan beliefs and adopt the religion of their white masters (Guyana.org). This is seen never more prominently than in George Harris’ speech to Mr. Wilson (110-113), and George’s declaration that “There is a God for you, but is there any for us” (114)? Contritely, and tritely, George comes to believe in the God of his master and, more importantly, his wife, Eliza, once the two have been reunited. It is this, and nothing more, that allows for Ms. Stowe to continue her sermon that any positive thing is a direct “blessing” from her god, that “trust in [H]is Providence” lifted George’s “atheistic doubts” and imbued him “with a golden cloud of protection and confidence” (136), and can do the same for us all, if only we give him credit for every good thing in our lives.

            Other than being a Christian and an Abolitionist—both of which, I must add, do not qualify anyone as an authority on African-American culture—there was absolutely nothing within the pages of the novel nor within Ms. Stowe’s biography to suggest she was thoroughly compliant with the proper representation of negroes: in short, I feel she, herself is guilty of racism to a degree. Even though she uses what must have been widespread Southern mentality of the period in the form of “these critters ain’t like white folks: they gets over things” (15), she describes the character of Chloe as “she might have been washed over with white of eggs” (29),

in a sense whitewashing this black character with the hope of endearing her to her audience. She is also deprecating in that she states “for the Negro mind, impassioned and imaginative, always attaches itself to hymns and expressions of a vivid and pictorial nature” (37); in short, “We’s all just happy folks.” Ms. Stowe goes on to say “They are not naturally daring or enterprising” (95), and even refers to them, with both her own voice and that of her characters, as “wooly headed” (29, 46, 50, 195).

            Prevalent also is the liberal use of the word “nigger” that the slaves use in reference to one another, whether it is Aunt Chloe speaking to/of her own children—“get out de way, you niggers” (30)—or Sam speaking of himself—“this nigger ain’t so green” (50)—or Andy referring to Sam as “you black nigger” (50). This sentiment abounds due to what can only be described as brainwashing, of a sort. The slaves were taught by their white masters that they were filthy niggers who were not even worth the pity and grace that their forced-to-worship god promised them, and this continuous cycle of negative reinforcement ultimately became their belief. Another form of this brainwashing, perhaps even more barbaric than that which the Southern slaves endured, can be seen in the case of Phillis Wheatley, who viewed her capture, sale, and servitude as a mercy God had bestowed upon her. One has only to read Ms. Wheatley’s poem On Being Brought from Africa to America to see that hers was not a voice of reason, but more the result of years of psychological abuse, the end result of which being a complete brainwashing that she in turn embraced as divine truth.

In its entirety the poem reads:

‘Twas mercy brought me from my pagan land,

Taught my benighted soul to understand

That there’s a God, that there’s a Saviour too:

Once I redemption never sought nor knew.

Some view our sable race with a scornful eye,

“Their color is a diabolical dye.”

Remember, Christians, Negroes, black as Cain,

May be refin’d, and join the Angelic train.

Privileged, refined, and a member of polite New England society—as much as any slave

could be accepted, that is—Phillis Wheatley learned Latin and Greek, wrote poetry in honor of

and personally met with President George Washington, and was hailed in England as one of the

finest poet laureates ever to emerge from our fledgling country. She was spared the horrors that

her kinspeople were made to endure in the South, those that Frederick Douglass intimated with

such articulation and Harriet Beecher Stowe hints at in her novel Uncle Tom’s Cabin. In many

ways Wheatley was the worst kind of slave in that she represented the trophy, the “they can be

civilized” model that applied to so very few; slaves were bought, sold, and meant for hard labor;

so very few would ever enjoy the life Wheatley had been exposed to.

            To her credit, Ms. Stowe examines the truest feelings of some Northerners when she explores the all-too real intent of shipping freemen and escaped slaves back to Africa—Liberia, to be exact. Augustine St. Clare states, “You loathe [slaves] as you would a snake or a toad […] you don’t want to have anything to do with them yourselves. You would send them to Africa, out of your sight and smell,” to which Miss Ophelia retorts, “There may be some truth to this” (169). True also is the fact that “Most free African-Americans wanted to stay in the land they had helped to build. They planned to continue the struggle for equality and justice in the new nation,” (loc.gov). Ms. Stowe seems to push the idea of repatriating blacks back to Africa, and this can be seen in the form of George Harris enthusiastically sojourning to this new country, a place he finally feels he can call home; a place he can help shape, both politically and economically; “a republic, formed of picked men” (397), only those who reside there were picked not because of their intelligence, or trustworthiness, or even because of their theological affiliations, but because of the color of their skin. Even Topsy—Miss Ophelia’s slave set free—upon reaching adulthood, travels to Liberia as a missionary, but Ms. Stowe points out that Topsy “[returned to] her own country” (399), as opposed to claiming America as her own.

            Finally, I come to Tom. What is it about this remarkable man that makes him so endearing to the reader? Is it his morals and ethics? Is it his understanding that things happen for a reason—“natur”—as well as his unwavering belief that “I’m in the Lord’s hands” (94), thus all will work out as it should? As I came to the conclusion of this book I began to realize that Uncle Tom’s cabin was not a dwelling on the Shelby farm, not on St. Clare Plantation, nor even on Simon Legree’s place; Uncle Tom’s cabin was his heart, his fine spirit. He was a man who could win over young and old alike, whether in the form of Eva St. Clare, or Legree’s henchmen, Sambo and Quimbo. Uncle Tom’s Cabin, as well as Uncle Tom’s cabin, are masterworks that will live forever in the hearts of all who decide to make the journey.

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Hewitt, Nancy A. “Reform and Reformers in the Antebellum Era.”

http://chnm.gmu.edu/lostmuseum/lm/274/ Web. 9 DEC 2012.

Bisnauth, Dale. http://www.guyana.org/features/guyanastory/chapter28.html

Web. 9 DEC 2012.

No Known Author. “History of Liberia: A Timeline.” 12 MAR 1998.

http://memory.loc.gov/ammem/gmdhtml/libhtml/liberia.html Web. 10 DEC 2012.

Santayana, George. “Life of Reason: Reason in Common Sense.” Scribner’s. New York. 1905.

Stowe, Harriet Beecher. “Uncle Tom’s Cabin.” Bantam Books. New York. 1981.

Wheatley, Phillis. 1768. http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/on-being-brought-from-africa-to

           

10 DEC 2012.

Women in History. Harriet Beecher Stowe biography. Last Updated: 12/8/2012. Lakewood

Public Library. Web. 12 DEC 2012.

Analysis of “Heart of Darkness”

Duncan S. Jackson

English 1105

Mr. Ellis

October 22, 2012

Analysis of “Heart of Darkness”

            What makes a story truly great, ingratiates itself upon us, gaining favor, standing the test

of time to be extolled a masterpiece, a literary contribution to be cherished throughout the ages?

My initial thought, as I read this gothic-imagery-laden offering from the mind of Joseph Conrad,

was that the author’s faculties had all but deserted him as he surely labored for what must have

been weeks on end, endeavoring ever-so-lovingly over a very personal celebration in mediocrity;

should those who, in their ignorance and arrogance, allowed such a thing to come into being,

lauding with great supplications of good thanksgiving for all to hear, be charged with any less

crime? While I am the first to admit that every story will not connect with every reader, there has

to be at least a small amount of redemption found within the pages of what one may very well

deem an otherwise excursion into futility, and I found mine.

            It would be remiss of me, before going any further, to point out that I am a true believer

in the adage that every story has a story, thus the need for background, foreshadowing, and the

like as Mr. Conrad surreptitiously builds to his anticlimactic conclusion. That being said, it

seems the author takes the opposing view of minimalism, instrumental in the writings of Carver,

Hemingway, and Barthelme, to the N^th degree by sandbagging the reader—well, this reader in

particular, at any rate—with filler and fluff which, if removed, would have allowed for an even

easier flow of text and better assimilation and understanding of that which he wished to convey.

It would not come to me until the third chapter, after all the improper usage of grammar

and punctuation, when the true heart of “Heart” would be revealed, and I realized, as I read what

would prove to be the tiniest of glimpses into the real meat and potatoes of this tale, that I was

reading the rough-draft script for the Martin Scorsese-directed mega-blockbuster motion picture

Apocalypse Now. This was indeed to be the story’s redemptive measure for me, but it came too

little, too late. Chapter three begins, […] “His very existence was improbable, inexplicable, and

altogether bewildering. He was an insoluble problem. It was inconceivable how he had existed,

how he had succeeded in getting so far, how he had managed to remain—why he did not

instantly disappear. I went a little farther, […] then still a little farther—till I had gone so far that

I don’t know how I’ll ever get back” (92). This quote sums up perfectly my thoughts and feelings

on the story as a whole as well as my journey into this literary heart of darkness, and my inability

to escape once that journey had begun.

Although where the story takes place has never been specifically pointed out by Conrad,

the Narrator, nor Marlowe, one can easily surmise it is the continent of Africa due to references

made to it being “one of the dark places of the earth” (6), “trireme[s] in the Mediterranean” (7),

“those who have a different complexion or slightly flatter noses than ourselves” (9), and “a black

Sahara” (85). Then, of course, are the references to “dark interlopers” (5), “black figures” (41),

and a very liberal use of the word “nigger” (13, 29, 42, 76); not a thing uncommon for writers of

Conrad’s day (pub. Year 1902), but one must wonder if these are the thoughts and feelings of the

author, the author through his characters, or the characters as separate entities. Important to note

is how Marlow does not even refer to his (black) helmsman as a “man” until the poor fellow has

died at the hands of the natives (86). To this point he is: a “fool nigger” (76); “a dog in a parody

of breeches and a feather hat” (81); “an instrument” (85); and a “second-rate helmsman” (86).

Furthermore, the Marlowe character takes his time in making a show of any reverence for his

fallen shipmate, and then only as an afterthought as the funeral and burial consists of the dead

carcass being thrown overboard; true, this saves him from being eaten by the hired cannibal

crew, but that is the only respect any person of color is shown throughout the entirety of the

story; Marlowe gives his shoes, which were bloodied sopping wet by the helmsman’s blood,

more consideration: “out of sheer nervousness had just flung overboard a new pair of shows.”

They were new, the intended afterthought being they could have been cleaned.

There is an almost mystic ambience Conrad conjures up whenever speaking of the people

and their way of life. They are “supernatural beings” (84), who are “sorcerer[s], witch-men,

fiend-like” (111), as the African religious practice of Obeah would suggest (Morrow, Ally,

Narcisse, Javier). Due to Marlowe’s unfamiliarity with these practices, he is left to surmise that

“the far-off drums […] weird, appealing, suggestive, and wild” (31), usher forth “midnight

dances with unspeakable rites” (84), “aggravated witch dance[s]” (85) performed by the “devils

of the land” (82). The natives, “black shadows of disease” (26), were not the only people of

whom this could be said. Marlowe felt that the heart of darkness, which was anything—man,

jungle, river to name a few—that had no amount of civility about it, and he was sure that the

heart of darkness corrupted absolutely, which is why he could refer to the master brick builder as

a “papier-mâché Mephistopheles” (42), or come to believe that because of Kurtz’s indomitable

spirit and ability to gather the tribes to proclaim him master and leader that something had

protected him “like a charm” (54). These “red devils” (113) nor Kurtz’s rescuers (white devils?)

held dominion over the man, Marlowe noticed, as there was “nothing above or below him” (112)

any longer; the man had transcended the convention of religion—heaven and hell—to become a

god in his own right.

Separate but equal is the way in which Conrad defines the land itself; it carries an air of

mysticism about it, but more as an as-yet undiscovered country. He speaks of Africa as “still

belong[ing] to the beginnings of time” (68), a “prehistoric earth” (59). In it, one finds “truth

stripped of its cloak of time” (60). It is here, perhaps, that the heart of darkness envelops most

completely, as the place is “primeval” (43) and one finds “no joy [even] in the brilliance of the

sunshine” (55), a true “night of first ages” (60) where every living thing contained within spews

its birth cry as both invitation, and warning.

Several references are made to the intrepid Europeans who—for that of adventure’s sake

or profit’s—have braved this vast, indiscriminate wilderness. We, through Conrad, the Narrator,

and Marlowe, view them as a transmogrification of colonists, “adventurers and sailors” (5),

conquerors” (9), and finally “faithless pilgrims” (37) who seem no longer capable of even

understanding the need to leave the place of their greatest sorrows; the heart of darkness, which

consumes as it is consumed, is one great thing and many great things simultaneously; it has

consumed them, making them one with itself.

The gothic imagery employed by Mr. Conrad is on a par with that of Poe and Hawthorne,

and perhaps a bit more cerebral besides. We are introduced to this early on with references to

“black hens” (12) and women “knitting black wool” (14) in an office located on a “street in deep

shadow” (14) that Marlowe would visit prior to setting off for “The Continent” (12), yet the

office itself, in contrast to this, sported a “large shining map, with all the colours of the rainbow”

(14) as if to nullify what truly awaited the seafaring adventurer upon arrival at his destination.

Marlowe speaks of the eyes of a dead native “shining darkly” (100), and speaks of a painting that

has caught his attention in which “the background was somber […] and the face (of the unknown

woman) sinister” (40).

I reread this story after setting myself to the task of writing this analysis, and while I hold

true to everything I have written, I must clarify a few things as I build toward my end. Though an

arduous task still, I did gain better understanding—and enjoyment—from this piece the second

time around. It definitely deserves the praise it has received, which merits its place as one of the

fine literary contributions of all time. No longer do I feel the opening of Chapter Three to be a

worthy assessment of my experience with this book; on the contrary. I invite you to page seven

to read the script, “it is like a running blaze on a plain, like a flash of lightning in the clouds. We

live in the flicker—may it last as long as the old earth keeps rolling!”

Works Cited

Conrad, Joseph. Heart of Darkness. Bantam Classic Books. Doubleday and Co., Inc. 1981.

Morrow, Ally, Narcisse, and Javier. Obeah, Voodoo, and Wicca. Central University of New

York. Web.  2012. http://condor.admin.ccny.cuny.edu/~lm5786/index.html

Analysis of Steinbeck's "The Pearl"

Duncan S. Jackson

English 1105

Charles Ellis

Independent Study

Analysis of “The Pearl”

            John Steinbeck, through his novella “The Pearl,” takes his reader(s) on a multi-themed

journey that reminds us to be careful for that which we wish much the way W. W. Jacobs was

able to drive home the same point in his short story “The Monkey’s Paw.” Unlike Jacobs’ classic

fable, however, the total plausibility Steinbeck invokes serves to lend credence and believability

to the characters and the roles under which they serve.

            Set in 1930s La Paz, Mexico, it is immediately clear that the first theme this story

employs is that of class, of poverty versus wealth. The brush houses—homes constructed of

bushes, limbs, grass, leaves, and having thatched roofs—are a testament to the poverty-level

conditions in which the destitute pearl divers of the town live; this is contrasted by “the city of

stone and plaster” (13), as well as “the smell […] of good bacon from the doctor’s house” (15),

and even in the doctor’s relegating those he views as beneath him as nothing more than animals

as he says to the air about himself, “I am a doctor, not a veterinary” (18). It is not until Kino

finds the pearl that he is looked upon differently by those whose scorn he so easily fell under, be

it the priest, the doctor, the shopkeepers, the pearl buyers, or Kino’s very own neighbors.

            The second theme made manifest is the classic good versus evil, and this is seen most

profoundly with the pearl itself, which is immediately reminiscent of Tolkien’s “precious.” The

pearl in and of itself is a good thing, for it will provide for Kino, his wife Juana, and their son

Coyotito the opportunity to forge a better future. Kino understands the importance the “Pearl of

the World” (32) holds, and perhaps this is best exemplified by one of the first things he states he

will buy after selling the pearl, “—a rifle—but why not, since he was so rich” (37)? It would

definitely bespeak his new-found station in life, but it would also protect against the “colonial

animal” (32) with the “poison sacs of […] manufacture[d] venom” (35) that the town had not

necessarily become, but had always bided its time in revealing itself to be.

Though at times naïve, and others ignorant, these two factors affirmed Juana’s belief in

superstition, and after her begging Kino to “crush it between two stones” (77) had fallen on deaf

ears, she had attempted to return the pearl to the sea herself (79) due to the evil she felt resided in

it, for had Kino not already been accosted twice, his house burned to the ground, and his boat

destroyed? Prior to the discovery of the pearl it was she who prayed not for the healing of

Coyotito, who had been stung by a scorpion, but for a pearl with which to seek proper medical

attention for her son. Kino’s brother—and La Paz’s village elder—Juan Tomas stated, “There is

a devil in this pearl [and] you should have gotten rid of it” (89), yet Kino was “half insane and

half god” (83), and all that would slake his thirst for the justice of a proper price could be found

in “that monster of strangeness they called the capital” (73), for “he had already lost his old

world and must clamber on to a new one” (73) when he upset the status quo by refusing to deal

with the buyers, and in some way this was expedited when an unknown sent assassins to dispatch

of Kino and procure the pearl.

The story’s third theme, becoming more than one is told he or she should be—not

accepting one’s lot in life—begins when Kino “felt the evil coagulating about him [and] heard in

his ears the evil music” (69) as the pearl buyers attempted to swindle him, and it is these things

that set him upon the path of discovering the pearl’s terrible value. Juan Tomas explains that,

“You have defied not the pearl buyers, but the whole structure, the whole way of life, and I am

afraid for you” (74). The pearl buyers worked in collusion to keep the villagers subjugated, but

Kino’s resolute determination to travel to the capital city to fetch a fair price for the pearl drove

out any rational thought offered as to it being a thing of evil.

Call it happenstance, irony, or a twist of fate, but the ending Mr. Steinbeck chose for his

intrepid hero brings this paper full circle as once again a parallel is drawn between “The Pearl”

and “The Monkey’s Paw.” To protect his family from the assassins, one of whom brandishes the

same Winchester rifle Kino had earlier entertained thoughts of owning, he is forced to kill or be

killed. He easily dispatches the rifleman—not before a shot is fired—then terminates the other

two, and he finds the “cry of death” (119) comes not from the palpable silence left in the wake of

his own bloody massacre of the would-be assassins, but from his wife Juana, who laments the

loss of their son; it was the initial rifle shot that had killed Coyotito.

Kino and Juana return to La Paz village, “and they were not walking in single file” (119),

but side by side as opposed to the custom of the woman following in her husband’s wake. This

signifies the equality of loss suffered by both, and perhaps the equality of blame and guilt both

assume for Coyotito’s death. Equal also are the rifle, which hangs over Kino’s right shoulder,

and the lifeless body of Coyotito, hanging over Juana’s left. In claiming the prized weapon Kino

found he had given up that which was more precious to him than the money a thousand pearls

could hope to ever bring.

Upon first taking in the depth and beauty of the pearl, “It captured the light and refined it

and gave it back in silver incandescence. It was as large as a sea-gull’s egg” (30), but at the end

of his journey Kino looks at it one last time, “And the pearl was ugly; it was gray, like a

malignant growth.” Kino offers the pearl to Juana, to do with as she had wished the night before,

but she—perhaps fueled yet again by superstition—allows he who dragged this monstrosity from

the depths to return it from whence it came, and perhaps finally understanding the evil this freak

of nature holds—or more conceivably, exercising their own naivety, ignorance, and superstition

—none of the villagers seek to claim it as their own.

1110 words

The Reality of Things is Such...

I like the History Channel. I really enjoy learning more about what it may have been like during the Black Plague, the Revolutionary War, and the Civil Rights Movement--I say this in the present tense when the reality is that History Channel, along with TLC and Discovery Channel, are fast losing sight of their original objective and becoming networks of reality-based programming, and I am sorry History Channel, you can dress it up any way you choose by saying "History is made every day" before showing Pawn Stars, American Pickers, or Ice Road Truckers, but none of these things have to do with actual history; face it, these networks are becoming the MTV of the 2010s (when is the last time anyone actually saw a whole music video on MTV?). Speaking of MTV...The Real World? Really? Really? This is so far from real that any and all of the participants would get their asses kicked on a daily basis if they were in the real world. What makes things even worse is the fact that at any given time one can turn on his or her television and be inundated with reality-based show after reality-based show, and most of them are pretty horrendous. Every network seems to have its own Coonass mascot, and those that don't have asses of a different sort--the Jersy-ites--polluting the airwaves. Yesterday I saw advertisements for two new reality-based shows--Farm Kings, about corn farmers; and Hard Parts, about working in a car parts store. Working in a car parts store!--The ideas for these two are almost as stupid as...oh, I don't know. Doing a show about finding things with a metal detector, or parking cars, or being stupid, sixteen, and knocked up, or being a Kardashian (and it's either watch this crap or Sex and the City, which seems to be on every other channel). The thing is, the whole idea of reality-based programming has lost its luster, and we can surmise that it is easier to say, "Let's do a show about pig farmers" than to actually write a good tele-play. When all is said and done, this is but one more thing I will just have to bend over and accept, because it doesn't look like it's going to be changing any time soon.

The Old Double-Standard; or Denial Through Penis Envy

          It's funny how a thought just strikes a person like a bolt of lightning, bringing insight where only doubt and confusion once reigned. A good example of this is Franklin's adage, "A stitch in time saves nine." Up until about two years ago I lived my life wondering, "Nine WHAT?" Then one day it hit me: nine stitches. The comment was about preventative maintenance, how easy it is to keep something maintained instead of allowing it to fall into disrepair and then spending more time and money attempting to refurbish. Verbose as I admit to being, this does set up the true intent of this post.
          I am puzzled by lesbians. It is not that they choose to pursue same-gender relationships, nor is it that they prefer sex with a woman over a man. What puzzles me is that a lesbian will say that she does not need a penis, and yet every lesbian I have made the acquaintance of has admitted to employing the use of a dildo in her sexual practices, be it solo--masturbation--or with their partner, which, when all is said and done, is still masturbation.
          Another point to be made is penis size. Although there truly are women in this world who care not for the size of the boat but the motion of the ocean, most women do have a preconceived notion as to what constitutes normality. Can the same be said of a lesbian, when making reference to her own or another's clitoris? I believe that, initially, so little emphasis is put on clitoris size--you never hear of a woman wishing she had a few extra inches down there like men are wont to do--but that is not to say that the sentiment does not exist. In fact--again, staying with those lesbians with whom I have been acquainted--all have stated that they prefer a large clitoris; some have said an inch is nice, while others have said, "The larger, the better."
          My point to all this is that I do not understand how a lesbian can use a phallic symbol to achieve orgasm and dream of some monstrously large clitoris while denouncing a man's penis; when all is said and done, one is looking at approximately the same thing.