I Should Probably Read More...Symbols, Symbols, Symbols.

Let me start by saying this: THERE WILL ALWAYS BE AT LEAST ONE SYMBOL IN EVERYTHING YOU WILL READ. (Unless it’s the weekly edition of “Teen Vogue,” which even then… you’d be surprised.) And no, I’m not talking about the kind of symbols that tweens use to text. Nor am I talking about the symbols used on Twitter. I’m talking about the symbol that means, stands for, or represents something else in literature.

 Once again, for this chapter, I thought of both The Kite Runner and Night. If nothing else, this assignment as taught me that I should really read more. But in the titles of the two books themselves, stand a symbol. Now that I think about it, most book titles are a symbol for something. In The Kite Runner, the symbol is the kite. As Mr. Foster says, if you think it’s a symbol, it probably is. But what does the symbol mean? Well, that’s mainly up to the reader. So my take on the kite is mine and yours is yours. The kite symbolizes many things, but for me, it mainly symbolizes childhood and happiness. Childhood is something I think Amir longs for after a certain point of the book. I also think that the kite represents his guilt for what he allowed to happen to Hassan. At the end of the book he finally gets to fly the kite again, revealing that he is once again happy, like he once was as a child, and free of guilt.

In the book Night, the main symbol is well…the night! Night time is dark, usually quiet, and generally not a good situation. Continually throughout the book bad things happen at night. I think it is a symbol of the fear and complete devastation that was felt by many during The Holocaust. Many felt like they were in the dark, with no one to help them.

Another book with the symbol right there for you in the title is The Bean Trees. Bean Trees, and I’ll admit I looked this up on Sparknotes after reading the book sophomore year, symbolize transformation. In order for a bean tree to stay alive, they must carry out a symbiotic relationship with an insect that moves up and down the plant, providing it with nutrients. The mutualistic relationship between the bug and the tree can be applicable to humans, as well. In The Bean Trees, although Taylor Greer completely picks up her life and moves to a new state, she quickly establishes a group of people who are there for her, and who care about her and Turtle and vice versa. So in a way, it’s as if Taylor is a bean tree, and her network of supporters is all the little insects that provide her with life!

One piece of literature that I surprisingly, since it’s the latest thing I’ve read, haven’t mentioned through this assignment is The Handmaid’s Tale! A major symbol, although not in the name of the book itself, is the color red. However, the version I had of the book was red, so that’s pretty close to the title. Red is the color all Handmaids are forced to wear. When I think of red I think of blood. Ew, gross, I know, but bear with me. Blood and flesh are things we are all made up of. It’s a part of us all. However, in the Handmaid’s Tale, it seems to be something women are reduced to. Handmaids specifically serve only as incubators for babies. Their significance to society is the one thing they still have after all of the disenfranchisement forced on them: blood and flesh, nothing more.

Not these symbols...

 

but these symbols... 

 

a little less appealing to the eyes... but a lot more to the brain 

Why You Should Never Go Out in a Winter Storm (Hint:You’ll Become Crazy)

It is in this chapter that I really start appreciating Foster as writer, my favorite line of his being, “November in the bones.” I feel that quote will stick with me for a long time. I think it’s important for an author to establish some sort of ethos so that the reader can take what he says seriously; especially when writing a book like this where you’re deliberately teaching someone how to do something. And I think Foster sets up that credibility and trust right from the beginning. I think he was very aware of his primary audience, students --probably high school or college-- and I think his language really does slant toward appealing to that age group. He has a witty style of writing, keeping it interesting and constantly relatable.  It also helps that he repeatedly mentions the fact that he is a teacher, so we know that he probably (hopefully) knows what he’s talking about. This book has so far taught me many things that I can personally apply to playwriting. The smallest things really do matter. For instance, the names he talks about in this chapter, “Daisy Miller” and “Frederic Winterbourne.” So obvious! …Now that it’s pointed out. I think I need to put a little more thought into the details of the things I write.

 But all of that is beside the point of the chapter. In chapter twenty he once again mentions a piece of work that I am familiar with, which is another method he uses to stay relatable, using very widely known pieces of literature. He mentions Shakespeare’s King Lear as an example of season’s meaning. In the play King Lear has a fit, a tantrum, if you will; explicitly showing his descend into madness. And it just so happens that this happens in the middle of a winter storm. (This chapter further instills my love for summer; if nothing else, shying me away from the season’s evil twin, for fear of turning mad in a winter storm.)

I’m not sure if this rule really always works (what rule does?) for fall. Sure, in the example given from Shakespeare’s “Sonnet 73”, it is the end of fall, beginning of winter, which means something usually depressing is going on. But I generally see fall as a good season. I picture fireplaces, leaves, strolls, breezy, sunny weather. What I really picture is the moving picture of Harry Potter’s parents, dancing in the fall, one of the only momentos he has left of them. I think in this case, J.K. Rowling did mean for fall to represent a happy time in order for Harry to feel happy and at ease when looking at this picture. Of course, winter too can be seen as a happy time. Maybe that’s just because I live in Texas and winters are not a particularly brutal thing to bear down here. However, since most writers do not reside in Texas, I will take Foster’s word for the fact that generally speaking, summer is a good thing, and winter is not.

 Seriously...don't do it.

Rub-A-Dub-Dub: Thanks for the Grub

Meals are obviously a part of our everyday lives. Because of this, just about every story, book, or movie you encounter will inhabit one. As Mr. Foster mentions, meals can be just meals, for the audience or reader’s sake of knowing that the character is indeed human and has to eat. However, since they are quite necessary to every good length story, writers usually try to fit some sort of significance into the scene.

Usually, well for me at least, when I think of scenes involving a sit-down meal, I think of less-than-ideal situations: Awkward family dinners, dining rooms filled with tension and grudges large enough to fit the overly-sized dining table, argument-stuffed conversations, yelling, evil glares and under-your-breath remarks shot to and from all sides, worry-filled eyebrows, pursed lips, sweaty palms, wandering eyes, you get the point. Don’t get me wrong, I haven’t personally had very many “bad” meal experiences, but somehow, for me, most of my viewing or reading experiences of meals have not been good ones. However, in real life, my meals are usually filled with comfort. And now that Mr. Foster mentions it, they usually comprise of people who I genuinely like, besides the regular table-setting of your immediate family, but let’s face it, you can’t do much about choosing them.

 Eating is usually a time of bonding, a time of relaxation, and a time of general communion, as the title suggests. A great example of when a meal has served, no pun intended, as something more than a mere fulfilling of the homosapien need, is in the movie Hairspray. Set in the early 1960s, when segregation was still very much alive, Tracy Turnblad, the main character, makes friends with a few African- American classmates. She seems to be one of the only people in Baltimore who has no problem, and sees no danger with associating with African-Americans. Tracy’s “colored” friends invite her, Link and Penny, all Caucasian, to their neighborhood. They willingly go; after all, they are all friends. When they all arrive in what most white people of the time and area would call the “dangerous part of town,” Tracy finds that they are not only welcomed with open arms, but with full plates. The meal serves as a breaking down of a barrier set by society, making Tracy and her friends even more convinced to oppose segregation.

                Another time that a meal has served as more than food on a plate, is in the classic Disney movie, Beauty and the Beast. When the Beast first captures Belle, she locks herself in her room and refuses to emerge. When the Beast realizes that in order to break the spell placed on him he must make friends with Belle, his animated dinnerware friends advise him to invite her downstairs for dinner. She refuses at first, but eventually gives in and has dinner with him. Belle eating with the Beast seems to be the first step to bringing them closer together. Meal time actually becomes a reoccurring occasion for Belle and the Beast to bond. She even tries to teach him polite eating etiquette, and eventually succeeds. The side story of the meals spent between the two in the movie, directly follow along the couple’s path to friendship, and eventually love.