Fluent Essays

follow attached files CCSS.ELA-LITERACY.RI.9-10.1: Cite strong and thorough textual evidence to support analysis of what the text says explicitly as well as inferences drawn from the text. CCSS.ELA-LITERACY.RI.9-10.2: Determine a central idea of a text and analyze its development over the course of the text, including how it emerges and is shaped and refined by specific details; provide an objective summary of the text. 2021 Summer Reading Assignment for English II 1. Print and read ALL FIVE selections provided in the sophomore summer reading packet. 2. As you read, annotate the texts, looking for examples of various literary and stylistic devices (see the example annotation). 3. While reading, be mindful of the following task you must complete. A dialectical journal is a reader-response analysis task. It allows you to pause in the reading, examine the text closely, and then record your inquiries and careful thoughts about these specific passages in the text through one of five analysis lenses. The five analysis lenses you can analyze through are: questioning, social- historical analysis, connections between the text, reflections, and word choice. See the chart below to understand these specific analysis skills and what they entail. 10 total entries= Questioning x 2 Social/Historical Analysis x 2 Connections between texts x 2 Reflections x 2 Word Choice x 2 Once you understand each type, read the stories and select interesting quotes to analyze; then, write them down on the left side of the chart provided for you. See the example below. Next, you should analyze this passage using one of the five analysis lenses. You will do all five response types twice for a grand total of 10 entries. It is recommended that you use this template. Make a copy of this document by going to File > Make a Copy. Once you’ve made a copy, name your file using the following format: last name, first name - English II Dialectical Journal. Your entries must be typed on a Google document as it will need to be submitted to your teacher and uploaded to turnitin.com during the first week of classes. 4. Be prepared to use these dialectical journals at the start of class for your summer reading essay! How to Interact with Your Chosen Passages-Five Analysis Types Left Side of the Notebook-Your Chosen Passage ● Put your quotes from the reading assignment on this side ● Be sure to number the entries. ● Use MLA citations for each quote (Author’s last name, page #). ● Choose passages/quotes that are significant, powerful, thought provoking, stylistically interesting, or puzzling. Right Side of the Notebook- Analysis Lenses On this side of the notebook, you will interact with the quote in one of the following five ways. See the template on page 7-9 for what this should look like and the example of two analysis types on page 3. By the end, you will interact with each analysis lens twice for a total of 10 entries. For each quote, pick ONE of the different lenses and use these prompts to help guide your analysis: 1. Question: Ask about something in the passage that is unclear or ask a question of the idea. Be sure to try to offer an answer to your own question based on what you have read or know already. 2. Social/Historical Analysis: Look up dates or references to historical moments and explain why they may be important in the text. Speculate as to why the author included this date or reference. 3. Connection between Texts: Make a connection to another text, movie, or work of art. What are the shared central ideas in these texts and how do you know? 4. Reflect/Comment: Think deeply about what the passage means in a broad sense—not just to the characters in the story or the author of the article. What conclusions can you draw about the world, about human nature, or just the way things work? 5. Word Choice: Consider words that you do not know, words that you think may be important, or phrases that could have a literary or rhetorical significance. Then, analyze whether the choice of this word or phrase has a positive or negative connotation, how it helps contribute to the tone, or how it contributes to the overall narrative. Samples The following two samples EXCEEDED EXPECTATIONS (see rubric for more details for how you should complete your dialectical journal). “He was a newcomer in the land, a chechaquo, and this was his first winter” (London 62). Word Choice: Chechaquo is the Chinook jargon word for a newcomer. Chinook jargon is widely used in the Yukon territory in Canada, and thus is part of the Yukon culture. A newcomer having little experience would have no part in the culture. Thus, using a native’s word to describe a non-native visitor provides a contrast that contributes to the immersiveness of the text, and, combined with the indication that this is his first winter, the word implies that the man may not know what he should be doing in this environment to survive. “This dark hair-line was the trail— the main trail — that led south five hundred miles to the Chilkoot Pass, Dyea, and salt water; and that led north seventy miles to Dawson, and still on to the north a thousand miles to Nulato, and finally to St. Michael on Bering Sea, a thousand miles and half a thousand more” (London 64). Social/Historical Analysis: All of these sites are located in the Yukon, where London traveled when he was 21 years old. About 40,000 people went to the Yukon in 1896 in hopes of finding gold. However, only about 15,000 ended up with gold. Dawson and Nulato are both important mining locations where these aspiring gold diggers would have passed through as they sought to strike a claim. London included these references not only to add authenticity but also to show how large the Yukon territory is. He says it is a “thousand miles and half a thousand more” to show how vast the landscape is and, in turn, show how small and isolated the man is out on the small, “hair line” trail leading to these places. Rationale: These responses are sufficient and clearly express the students’ thoughts, ideas, and connections. The following samples DO NOT meet expectations (see rubric for more details for how you should complete your dialectical journal). “Partially Meets Expectations” “Speed up the film, Montag, quick. Click pic look eye Ray Bradbury uses a series of onomatopoeias to now flic here there swift pace up down in out why summarize films on page 52 where it says, “Speed up how who what where eh uh bang smack wallop bing the film, Montag, quick. Click pic look eye now flic bong boom” (52). here there swift pace up down in out why how who what where eh uh bang smack wallop bing bong boom.” This shows how Beatty explained films to Montag when they were first created. Rationale: The student does a good job in identifying the onomatopoeia here and there is an understanding of what is happening in the text. However, the student doesn’t explain why Bradbury may have chosen these sounds or what effect they have upon Montag who is listening. Notice most of their response is full of the quote, rather than their thoughts. Needs more analysis. Also the student needs to add Bradbury to their in-text citation. “Does Not Meet Expectations" “Do you understand the term wanderlust...what place made you wanderlust the most?” Wanderlust: a strong desire to see new things or have new experiences. Rationale: This response is insufficient, lacking depth and analysis. The student should have explored the context in which this quote appears and express the importance of the use of the word (author’s diction) “wanderlust” and its significance here. Also, the MLA citation for the quote is missing. Summer Reading Dialectical Journal Rubric Exceeds Expectations Meets Expectations Partially Meets Expectations Does Not Meet Expectations Quality of Responses CCSS.ELA-LITERACY.RL.9-10. 1 Cite strong and thorough textual evidence to support analysis of what the text says explicitly as well as inferences drawn from the text. CCSS.ELA-LITERACY.W.9-10.2 Write informative/explanatory texts to examine and convey complex ideas, concepts, and information clearly and accurately through the effective selection, organization, and analysis of content. Quantity of Responses All entries demonstrate All entries Some entries deep insight into the demonstrate sufficient demonstrate a lack novel and do an insight into the novel of insight into the exceptional job of and adequately novel and do not explaining the student’s explain the student’s adequately explain thoughts through the thoughts through the the student’s skillful selection of selection of textual thoughts. textual evidence and evidence and analysis. thoughtful analysis. Includes 10 or more Includes 10 relevant Includes 8 relevant relevant quotations or quotations or passages quotations or passages (on the left (on the left side of the passages (on the side of the double-entry double-entry journal) left side of the journal) accompanied accompanied by double-entry by student responses to student responses to journal) the recorded passages the recorded passages accompanied by (on the right side of the (on the right side of student responses double-entry journal). the double-entry to the recorded journal). passages (on the right side of the double-entry journal). No evidence of insights beyond simply identifying or restating the speaker and/or circumstances of the passages or quotes. Includes 6 or fewer quotations or passages (on the left side of the double entry journal) accompanied by student responses to the recorded passages (on the right side of the double-entry journal). Conventions & Format CCSS.ELA-LITERACY.L.9-10.1 Demonstrate command of the conventions of standard English grammar and usage when writing or speaking. Evident control of grammar, spelling, and sentence formation. All entries are grammatically correct. All passages/quotes are copied carefully, are in proper MLA format. Sufficient control of grammar, spelling, and sentence formation. Few grammatical errors are present in entries and do not interfere with reading. Most passages/quotes are copied carefully (some may contain minor errors), are in proper MLA format. Limited control of grammar, spelling, and sentence formation. Confused and inconsistent arrangement of sentences and fragments interferes with reading. Many passages/quotes are copied sloppily (several may contain errors), are missing quotation marks, and/or may be missing page numbers as part of MLA format. Minimal control of grammar, spelling, and sentence formation. Entries are difficult to read. All passages/quotes are copied sloppily (most contain obvious errors), and are missing quotation marks and page numbers not in MLA format. Use the following template for your Dialectical Journal Reader Responses: Left Side-Quote Right Side-Analysis Be sure to add the MLA citation! Question: Question: Social/Historical Analysis: Social/Historical Analysis: Connection between Texts: Connection between Texts: Reflect/Comment: Reflect/Comment: Word Choice: Word Choice: English 2 Summer Reading Packet for 2021 In the following packet, you will find five memoirs by American authors discussing their unique perspectives on topics like their identity, culture, and language. You should use these texts to complete your dialectical journals, and we will be using them when we return to school for our first unit. Table of Contents (pagination based on the PDF) “Only Daughter” by Sandra Cisneros………………………………………..3-4 Excerpt from Dust Tracks on a Road by Zora Neale Hurston…………….5-9 “Yellow Woman and a Beauty of the Spirit” by Leslie Marmon Silko….10-16 “My Dungeon Shook: Letter to my Nephew” by James Baldwin……. .17-21 “Mother Tongue” by Amy Tan……………………………………………..20-26 Only Daughter Sandra Cisneros from Latina: Women's Voices From the Borderlands. Edited by Lillian Castillo-Speed. New York: Touchstone/Simon & Schuster, 1995. Once, several years ago, when I was just starting out my writing career, I was asked to write my own contributor’s note for an anthology1 I was part of. I wrote: “I am the only daughter in a family of six sons. That explains everything.” Well, I’ve thought about that ever since, and yes, it explains a lot to me, but for the reader’s sake I should have written: “I am the only daughter in a Mexican family of six sons.” Or even: “I am the only daughter of a Mexican father and a Mexican-American mother.” Or: “I am the only daughter of a working-class family of nine.” All of these had everything to do with who I am today. I was/am the only daughter and only a daughter. Being an only daughter in a family of six sons forced me by circumstance to spend a lot of time by myself because my brothers felt it beneath them to play with a girl in public. But that aloneness, that loneliness, was good for a would-be writer— it allowed me time to think and think, to imagine, to read and prepare myself. Being only a daughter for my father meant my destiny would lead me to become someone’s wife. That’s what he believed. But when I was in the fifth grade and shared my plans for college with him, I was sure he understood. I remember my father saying, “Que bueno, mi’ha, that’s good.” That meant a lot to me, especially since my brothers thought the idea hilarious. What I didn’t realize was that my father thought college was good for girls—good for finding a husband. After four years in college and two more in graduate school, and still no husband, my father shakes his head even now and says I wasted all that education. In retrospect2, I’m lucky my father believed daughters were meant for husbands. 1 anthology: collection of stories and other literature in a book. 2 retrospect: thinking about things in the past It meant it didn’t matter if I majored in something silly like English. After all, I’d find a nice professional eventually, right? This allowed me the liberty to putter about embroidering3 my little poems and stories without my father interrupting with so much as a “What’s that you’re writing?” But the truth is, I wanted him to interrupt. I wanted my father to understand what it was I was scribbling, to introduce me as “My only daughter, the writer.” Not as “This is only my daughter. She teaches.” Es maestra— teacher. Not even profesora. In a sense, everything I have ever written has been for him, to win his approval even though I know my father can’t read English words, even though my father’s only reading includes the brown-ink Esto sports magazines from Mexico City and the bloody ¡Alarma! magazines that feature yet another sighting of La Virgen de Guadalupe on a tortilla or a wife’s revenge on her philandering husband by bashing his skull in with a molcajete (a kitchen mortar4 made of volcanic rock). Or the fotonovelas, the little picture paperbacks with tragedy and trauma erupting from the characters’ mouths in bubbles. My father represents, then, the public majority. A public who is disinterested in reading, and yet one whom I am writing about and for, and privately trying to woo5. When we were growing up in Chicago, we moved a lot because of my father. He suffered bouts of nostalgia6. Then we’d have to let go of our flat7, store the furniture with mother’s relatives, load the station wagon with baggage and bologna sandwiches and head south. To Mexico City. 3 embroidering: adding details to 4 mortar: a very hard bowl in which things are ground into a fine powder 5 woo: attract, interest 6 bouts of nostalgia: short periods of time with homesickness 7 flat: apartment We came back, of course. To yet another Chicago flat, another Chicago neighborhood, another Catholic school. Each time, my father would seek out the parish priest in order to get a tuition break8, and complain or boast: “I have seven sons.” He meant siete hijos, seven children, but he translated it as “sons.” “I have seven sons.” To anyone who would listen. The Sears Roebuck employee who sold us the washing machine. The short-order cook where my father ate his ham-and-eggs breakfasts. “I have seven sons.” As if he deserved a medal from the state. My papa. He didn’t mean anything by that mistranslation, I’m sure. But somehow I could feel myself being erased. I’d tug my father’s sleeve and whisper: “Not seven sons. Six! and one daughter.” When my oldest brother graduated from medical school, he fulfilled my father’s dream that we study hard and use this—our heads, instead of this—our hands. Even now my father’s hands are thick and yellow, stubbed by a history of hammer and nails and twine and coils9 and springs. “Use this,” my father said, tapping his head, “and not this,” showing us those hands. He always looked tired when he said it. Wasn’t college an investment? And hadn’t I spent all those years in college? And if I didn’t marry, what was it all for? Why would anyone go to college and then choose to be poor? Especially someone who had always been poor. Last year, after ten years of writing professionally, the financial rewards10 started to trickle in. My second National Endowment for the Arts Fellowship. A guest professorship at the University of California, Berkeley. My book, which sold to a major New York publishing house. At Christmas, I flew home to Chicago. The house was throbbing11, same as always: hot tamales and sweet tamales hissing in my mother’s pressure cooker, and everybody— my mother, six brothers, wives, babies, aunts, 8 tuition break: a decrease in the cost of going to a private school 9 twines and coils: strings and loops 10 financial rewards: money 11 throbbing: beating cousins—talking too loud and at the same time. Like in a Fellini12 film, because that’s just how we are. I went upstairs to my father’s room. One of my stories had just been translated into Spanish and published in an anthology of Chicano13 writing and I wanted to show it to him. Ever since he recovered from a stroke two years ago, my father likes to spend his leisure hours horizontally14. And that’s how I found him, watching a Pedro Infante movie on Galavisión and eating rice pudding. There was a glass filled with milk on the bedside table. There were several vials of pills and balled Kleenex. And on the floor, one black sock and a plastic urinal that I didn’t want to look at but looked at anyway. Pedro Infante was about to burst into song, and my father was laughing. I’m not sure if it was because my story was translated into Spanish, or because it was published in Mexico, or perhaps because the story dealt with Tepeyac, the colonia my father was raised in and the house he grew up in, but at any rate, my father punched the mute button on his remote control and read my story. I sat on the bed next to my father and waited. He read it very slowly. As if he were reading each line over and over. He laughed at all the right places and read lines he liked out loud. He pointed and asked questions: “Is this So-and-so?” “Yes,” I said. He kept reading. When he was finally finished, after what seemed like hours, my father looked up and asked: “Where can we get more copies of this for the relatives?” Of all the wonderful things that happened to me last year, that was the most wonderful. 12 Fellini: an Italian movie director 13 Chicano: Mexican-American 14 horizontally: laying down from Dust Tracks on a Road by Zora Neale Hurston I used to take a seat on top of the gatepost and watch the world go by. One way to Orlando ran past my house, so the carriages and cars would pass before me. The movement made me glad to see it. Often the white travelers would hail me, but more often I hailed them, and asked, “Don’t you want me to go a piece of the way with you?” They always did. I know now that I must have caused a great deal of amusement among them, but my self-assurance must have carried the point, for I was always invited to come along. I’d ride up the road for perhaps a half-mile, then walk back. I did not do this with the permission of my parents, nor with their foreknowledge. When they found out about it later, I usually got a whipping. My grandmother worried about my forward ways a great deal. She had known slavery and to her my brazenness was unthinkable. “Git down offa dat gatepost! You li’l sow, you! Git down! Setting up dere looking dem white folks right in de face! They’s gowine to lynch you, yet. And don’t stand in dat doorway gazing out at ’em neither. Youse too brazen to live long.” Nevertheless, I kept right on gazing at them, and “going a piece of the way” whenever I could make it. The village seemed dull to me most of the time. If the village was singing a chorus, I must have missed the tune. Perhaps a year before the old man died, I came to know two other white people for myself. They were women. It came about this way. The whites who came down from the North were often brought by their friends to visit the village school. A Negro school was something strange to them, and while they were always sympathetic and kind, curiosity must have been present, also. They came and went, came and went. Always, the room was hurriedly put in order, and we were threatened with a prompt and bloody death if we cut one caper while the visitors were present. We always sang a spiritual, led by Mr. Calhoun himself. Mrs. Calhoun always stood in the back, with a palmetto switch in her hand as a squelcher. We were all little angels for the duration, because we’d better be. She would cut her eyes and give us a glare that meant trouble, then turn her face toward the visitors and beam as much as to say it was a great privilege and pleasure to teach lovely children like us. They couldn’t see that palmetto hickory in her hand behind all those benches, but we knew where our angelic behavior was coming from. Usually, the visitors gave warning a day ahead and we would be cautioned to put on shoes, comb our heads, and see to ears and fingernails. There was a close inspection of every one of us before we marched in that morning. Knotty heads, dirty ears, and fingernails got hauled out of line, strapped, and sent home to lick the calf over again. This particular afternoon, the two young ladies just popped in. Mr. Calhoun was flustered, but he put on the best show he could. He dismissed the class that he was teaching up at the front of the room, then called the fifth grade in reading. That was my class. So we took our readers and went up front. We stood up in the usual line, and opened to the lesson. It was the story of Pluto and Persephone. It was new and hard to the class in general, and Mr. Calhoun was very uncomfortable as the readers stumbled along, spelling out words with their lips, and in mumbling undertones before they exposed them experimentally to the teacher’s ears. Then it came to me. I was fifth or sixth down the line. The story was not new to me, because I had read my reader through from lid to lid, the first week that Papa had bought it for me. That is how it was that my eyes were not in the book, working out the paragraph which I knew would be mine by counting the children ahead of me. I was observing our visitors, who held a book between them, following the lesson. They had shiny hair, mostly brownish. One had a looping gold chain around her neck. The other one was dressed all over in black and white with a pretty finger ring on her left hand. But the thing that held my eyes were their fingers. They were long and thin, and very white, except up near the tips. There they were baby pink. I had never seen such hands. It was a fascinating discovery for me. I wondered how they felt. I would have given those hands more attention, but the child before me was almost through. My turn next, so I got on my mark, bringing my eyes back to the book and made sure of my place. Some of the stories I had reread several times, and this Greco-Roman myth was one of my favorites. I was exalted by it, and that is the way I read my paragraph. “Yes, Jupiter had seen her (Persephone). He had seen the maiden picking flowers in the field. He had seen the chariot of the dark monarch pause by the maiden’s side. He had seen him when he seized Persephone. He had seen the black horses leap down Mount Aetna’s fiery throat. Persephone was now in Pluto’s dark realm and he had made her his wife.” The two women looked at each other and then back to me. Mr. Calhoun broke out with a proud smile beneath his bristly moustache, and instead of the next child taking up where I had ended, he nodded to me to go on. So I read the story to the end, where flying Mercury, the messenger of the Gods, brought Persephone back to the sunlit earth and restored her to the arms of Dame Ceres, her mother, that the world might have springtime and summer flowers, autumn and harvest. But because she had bitten the pomegranate while in Pluto’s kingdom, she must return to him for three months of each year, and be his queen. Then the world had winter, until she returned to earth. The class was dismissed and the visitors smiled us away and went into a low-voiced conversation with Mr. Calhoun for a few minutes. They glanced my way once or twice and I began to worry. Not only was I barefooted, but my feet and legs were dusty. My hair was more uncombed than usual, and my nails were not shiny clean. Oh, I’m going to catch it now. Those ladies saw me, too. Mr. Calhoun is promising to ’tend to me. So I thought. Then Mr. Calhoun called me. I went up thinking how awful it was to get a whipping before company. Furthermore, I heard a snicker run over the room. Hennie Clark and Stell Brazzle did it out loud, so I would be sure to hear them. The smart aleck was going to get it. I slipped one hand behind me and switched my dress tail at them, indicating scorn. from Dust Tracks on a Road by Zora Neale Hurston Page 2 of 5 “Come here, Zora Neale,” Mr. Calhoun cooed as I reached the desk. He put his hand on my shoulder and gave me little pats. The ladies smiled and held out those flower-looking fingers toward me. I seized the opportunity for a good look. “Shake hands with the ladies, Zora Neale,” Mr. Calhoun prompted and they took my hand one after the other and smiled. They asked me if I loved school, and I lied that I did. There was some truth in it, because I liked geography and reading, and I liked to play at recess time. Whoever it was invented writing and arithmetic got no thanks from me. Neither did I like the arrangement where the teacher could sit up there with a palmetto stem and lick me whenever he saw fit. I hated things I couldn’t do anything about. But I knew better than to bring that up right there, so I said yes, I loved school. “I can tell you do,” Brown Taffeta gleamed. She patted my head, and was lucky enough not to get sandspurs in her hand. Children who roll and tumble in the grass in Florida are apt to get sandspurs in their hair. They shook hands with me again and I went back to my seat. When school let out at three o’clock, Mr. Calhoun told me to wait. When everybody had gone, he told me I was to go to the Park House, that was the hotel in Maitland, the next afternoon to call upon Mrs. Johnstone and Miss Hurd. I must tell Mama to see that I was clean and brushed from head to feet, and I must wear shoes and stockings. The ladies liked me, he said, and I must be on my best behavior. The next day I was let out of school an hour early, and went home to be stood up in a tub of suds and be scrubbed and have my ears dug into. My sandy hair sported a red ribbon to match my red and white checked gingham dress, starched until it could stand alone. Mama saw to it that my shoes were on the right feet, since I was careless about left and right. Last thing, I was given a handkerchief to carry, warned again about my behavior, and sent off, with my big brother John to go as far as the hotel gate with me. First thing, the ladies gave me strange things, like stuffed dates and preserved ginger, and encouraged me to eat all that I wanted. Then they showed me their Japanese dolls and just talked. I was then handed a copy of Scribner’s Magazine, and asked to read a place that was pointed out to me. After a paragraph or two, I was told with smiles, that that would do. I was led out on the grounds and they took my picture under a palm tree. They handed me what was to me then a heavy cylinder done up in fancy paper, tied with a ribbon, and they told me goodbye, asking me not to open it until I got home. My brother was waiting for me down by the lake, and we hurried home, eager to see what was in the thing. It was too heavy to be candy or anything like that. John insisted on toting it for me. My mother made John give it back to me and let me open it. Perhaps, I shall never experience such joy again. The nearest thing to that moment was the telegram accepting my first book. One hundred goldy-new pennies rolled out of the cylinder. Their gleam lit up the world. It was not avarice that moved me. It was the beauty of the thing. I stood on the mountain. Mama let me play with my pennies for a while, then put them away for me to keep. from Dust Tracks on a Road by Zora Neale Hurston Page 3 of 5 That was only the beginning. The next day I received an Episcopal hymnbook bound in white leather with a golden cross stamped into the front cover, a copy of The Swiss Family Robinson, and a book of fairy tales. I set about to commit the song words to memory. There was no music written there, just the words. But there was to my consciousness music in between them just the same. “When I survey the Wondrous Cross” seemed the most beautiful to me, so I committed that to memory first of all. Some of them seemed dull and without life, and I pretended they were not there. If white people liked trashy singing like that, there must be something funny about them that I had not noticed before. I stuck to the pretty ones where the words marched to a throb I could feel. A month or so after the two young ladies returned to Minnesota, they sent me a huge box packed with clothes and books. The red coat with a wide circular collar and the red tam pleased me more than any of the other things. My chums pretended not to like anything that I had, but even then I knew that they were jealous. Old Smarty had gotten by them again. The clothes were not new, but they were very good. I shone like the morning sun. But the books gave me more pleasure than the clothes. I had never been too keen on dressing up. It called for hard scrubbings with Octagon soap suds getting in my eyes, and none too gentle fingers scrubbing my neck and gouging in my ears. In that box were Gulliver’s Travels, Grimm’s Fairy Tales, Dick Whittington, Greek and Roman Myths, and best of all, Norse Tales. Why did the Norse tales strike so deeply into my soul? I do not know, but they did. I seemed to remember seeing Thor swing his mighty short-handled hammer as he sped across the sky in rumbling thunder, lightning flashing from the tread of his steeds and the wheels of his chariot. The great and good Odin, who went down to the well of knowledge to drink, and was told that the price of a drink from that fountain was an eye. Odin drank deeply, then plucked out one eye without a murmur and handed it to the grizzly keeper, and walked away. That held majesty for me. Of the Greeks, Hercules moved me most. I followed him eagerly on his tasks. The story of the choice of Hercules as a boy when he met Pleasure and Duty, and put his hand in that of Duty and followed her steep way to the blue hills of fame and glory, which she pointed out at the end, moved me profoundly. I resolved to be like him. The tricks and turns of the other gods and goddesses left me cold. There were other thin books about this and that sweet and gentle little girl who gave up her heart to Christ and good works. Almost always they died from it, preaching as they passed. I was utterly indifferent to their deaths. In the first place I could not conceive of death, and in the next place they never had any funerals that amounted to a hill of beans, so I didn’t care how soon they rolled up their big, soulful, blue eyes and kicked the bucket. They had no meat on their bones. But I also met Hans Andersen and Robert Louis Stevenson. They seemed to know what I wanted to hear and said it in a way that tingled me. Just a little below these friends was Rudyard Kipling in his Jungle Books. I loved his talking snakes as much as I did the hero. from Dust Tracks on a Road by Zora Neale Hurston Page 4 of 5 I came to start reading the Bible through my mother. She gave me a licking one afternoon for repeating something I had overheard a neighbor telling her. She locked me in her room after the whipping, and the Bible was the only thing in there for me to read. I happened to open to the place where David was doing some mighty smiting, and I got interested. David went here and he went there, and no matter where he went, he smote ’em hip and thigh. Then he sung songs to his harp awhile, and went out and smote some more. Not one time did David stop and preach about sins and things. All David wanted to know from God was who to kill and when. He took care of the other details himself. Never a quiet moment. I liked him a lot. So I read a great deal more in the Bible, hunting for some more active people like David. Except for the beautiful language of Luke and Paul, the New Testament still plays a poor second to the Old Testament for me. The Jews had a God who laid about Him when they needed Him. I could see no use waiting till Judgment Day to see a man who was just crying for a good killing, to be told to go and roast. My idea was to give him a good killing first, and then if he got roasted later on, so much the better. Making Meanings from Dust Tracks on a Road 1. Did you identify with Hurston’s love of books? What were your feelings about books when you were younger? Have your feelings changed? 2. Consulting the notes you took while reading, characterize the narrator. Find examples from the text to support your view of Hurston. 3. What qualities does the young Hurston exhibit when she reads aloud in class? 4. What does Hurston think about the two women who visit? How do you know? 5. Why do you think the visitors invite Hurston to their hotel? 6. Why does the young Hurston treasure the books the ladies from Minnesota send her? Challenging the Text: 7. Hurston was criticized by some of her contemporaries because they felt she did not place enough emphasis on the racial oppression of African Americans by the white community. Using references from this autobiographical excerpt, explain whether you agree or disagree with this criticism. from Dust Tracks on a Road by Zora Neale Hurston Page 5 of 5 RI 1 Cite strong and thorough textual evidence to support analysis of what the text says explicitly as well as inferences drawn from the text, including determining where the text leaves matters uncertain. RI 6 Determine an author’s point of view or purpose Civil Rights and Protest Literature My Dungeon Shook: Letter to My Nephew Open Letter by James Baldwin Meet the Author James Baldwin 1924–1987 in a text in which the rhetoric is particularly effective, analyzing how style and content contribute to the power, persuasiveness, or beauty of the text. L 5a Interpret figures of speech (e.g., paradox) in context and analyze their role in the text. did you know? James Baldwin . . . • was mentored by poet Countee Cullen in high school. • moved to Paris at age 24 and only returned to the United States for visits. • was working on a biography of Martin Luther King Jr., when he died. In the turbulent 1960s, James Baldwin became one of the country’s most sought after commentators on racial politics. But Baldwin never considered himself a spokesperson. Rather, he saw his role as bearing witness “to whence I came, where I am . . . to what I’ve seen and the possibilities that I think I see.” This autobiographical vantage point is the hallmark of Baldwin’s greatest works, from his moving first novel, Go Tell It on the Mountain (1953), to the provocative essays collected in Notes of a Native Son (1955), Nobody Knows My Name (1961), and The Fire Next Time (1963). Early Struggles Born and raised in Harlem, Baldwin never knew his biological father and had a strained relationship with his stepfather, a domineering, bitter man who preached at a storefront evangelical church on weekends. A star pupil and voracious reader, the young James also helped his overworked mother raise his eight brothers and sisters. After a dramatic supported himself by writing book reviews and waiting tables. Baldwin achieved some success but felt increasingly stifled by the racist climate of the United States. In a life changing decision in 1948, he bought a one-way plane ticket to Paris. “Once I found myself on the other side of the ocean,” he later explained, “I could see where I came from very clearly, and I could see that I carried myself, which is my home, with me. You can never escape that.” Long-Distance Outrage With their penetrating insight and apocalyptic tone, Baldwin’s essay collections were bestsellers. By the mid-1960s, he was an international celebrity, popular on the lecture circuit and in public debates, interviews, and panel discussions in the United States and Europe. In writing about his perceptions and personal torments, Baldwin made white Americans deeply, painfully aware of the realities of African-American life. As black leaders in the 1950s and 1960s looked outward (background) Harlem in 1937 religious conversion at age 14, he gained local acclaim as a “boy local preacher.” Then, at 18, a prea crisis of faith drove Baldwin cris to break with the church to b and leave home. an Emerging Artist W Working to establish his literary career, Baldwin l 1250 to break down barriers, Baldwin looked inward to examine the psychological damage of racism and the search for black identity and self-realization. In the words of playwright Amiri Baraka, “Jimmy’s voice, as much as Dr. King’s or Malcolm X’s, helped shepherd and guide us toward black liberation.” Author Online Go to thinkcentral.com. KEYWORD: HML11-1250 My Dungeon Shook Letter to My Nephew on the One Hundredth Anniversary of the Emancipation James Baldwin background In 1963, as the nation’s perspective on the race problem grew more pessimistic, James Baldwin published his essay collection The Fire Next Time. Expressing the pain and anger that African Americans had concealed for so long, Baldwin addressed his provocative essays to a sympathetic white audience that had failed to grasp the full magnitude of racial injustice. His searing attack fit the national mood, and the collection soared up the bestseller lists. Its success made Baldwin an icon of black rage and a widely televised commentator on racial issues throughout the 1960s. The following letter, taken from The Fire Next Time, captures the extremes of Baldwin’s style: the righteous anger that made him famous and his fervent belief in the redeeming power of love. Dear James: I have begun this letter five times and torn it up five times. I keep seeing your face, which is also the face of your father and my brother. Like him, you are tough, dark, vulnerable, moody—with a very definite tendency to sound truculent because you want no one to think you are soft. You may be like your grandfather in this, I don’t know, but certainly both you and your father resemble him very much physically. Well, he is dead, he never saw you, and he had a terrible life; he was defeated long before he died because, at the bottom of his heart, he really believed what white people said about him. This is one of the reasons that he became so holy.1 I am sure that your father has told you something about all that. 10 Neither you nor your father exhibit any tendency towards holiness: you really are 1. so holy: Baldwin’s stepfather was a minister who raised his children in a strict, conservative, religious environment. Analyze Visuals Describe the story that this painting seems to tell. Which elements help the artist connect the two figures in the foreground with the main story of the painting? truculent (trOkPyE-lEnt) adj. eager for a fight; fierce Father, Charly Palmer. Mixed 1252 unit 6: contemporary literature media collage on wood. 18˝ × 12˝. © Charly Palmer. of another era, part of what happened when the Negro left the land and came into what the late E. Franklin Frazier2 called “the cities of destruction.” You can only be destroyed by believing that you really are what the white world calls a nigger. I tell you this because I love you, and please don’t you ever forget it. I have known both of you all your lives, have carried your Daddy in my arms and on my shoulders, kissed and spanked him and watched him learn to walk. I don’t know if you’ve known anybody from that far back; if you’ve loved anybody that long, first as an infant, then as a child, then as a man, you gain a strange perspective on time and human pain and effort. Other people cannot see what 20 I see whenever I look into your father’s face, for behind your father’s face as it is today are all those other faces which were his. Let him laugh and I see a cellar your father does not remember and a house he does not remember and I hear in his present laughter his laughter as a child. Let him curse and I remember him falling down the cellar steps, and howling, and I remember, with pain, his tears, which my hand or your grandmother’s so easily wiped away. But no one’s hand can wipe away those tears he sheds invisibly today, which one hears in his laughter and in his speech and in his songs. I know what the world has done to my brother and how narrowly he has survived it. And I know, which is much worse, and this is the crime of which I accuse my country and my countrymen, and for which 30 neither I nor time nor history will ever forgive them, that they have destroyed and are destroying hundreds of thousands of lives and do not know it and do not want to know it. One can be, indeed one must strive to become, tough and philosophical concerning destruction and death, for this is what most of mankind has been best at since we have heard of man. (But remember: most of mankind is not all of mankind.) But it is not permissible that the authors of devastation should also be innocent. It is the innocence which constitutes the crime. a Now, my dear namesake, these innocent and well-meaning people, your countrymen, have caused you to be born under conditions not very far removed from those described for us by Charles Dickens3 in the London of more than a 40 hundred years ago. (I hear the chorus of the innocents screaming, “No! This is not true! How bitter you are!”—but I am writing this letter to you, to try to tell you something about how to handle them, for most of them do not yet really know that you exist. I know the conditions under which you were born, for I was there. Your countrymen were not there, and haven’t made it yet. Your grandmother was also there, and no one has ever accused her of being bitter. I suggest that the innocents check with her. She isn’t hard to find. Your countrymen don’t know that she exists, either, though she has been working for them all their lives.) Well, you were born, here you came, something like fifteen years ago; and though your father and mother and grandmother, looking about the streets 50 through which they were carrying you, staring at the walls into which they brought you, had every reason to be heavyhearted, yet they were not. For here 2. E. Franklin Frazier: African-American sociologist (1894–1962) who studied the structure of black communities. 3. described . . . by Charles Dickens: Dickens (1812–1870) was a British novelist whose works frequently described the hardships suffered by the poor in London. Language Coach Word Definitions Shed tears means “lose tears” or “cry.” What does Baldwin mean by “tears he sheds invisibly” (line 27)? What are invisible tears? constitute (kJnPstG-tLtQ) v. to amount to; equal a RHETORICAL DEVICES Consider the paradox in lines 36–37. What point is Baldwin making? 1254 unit 6: contemporary literature you were, Big James, named for me—you were a big baby, I was not—here you were: to be loved. To be loved, baby, hard, at once, and forever, to strengthen you against the loveless world. Remember that: I know how black it looks today, for you. It looked bad that day, too, yes, we were trembling. We have not stopped trembling yet, but if we had not loved each other none of us would have survived. And now you must survive because we love you, and for the sake of your children and your children’s children. b This innocent country set you down in a ghetto in which, in fact, it intended 60 that you should perish. Let me spell out precisely what I mean by that, for the heart of the matter is here, and the root of my dispute with my country. You were born where you were born and faced the future that you faced because you were black and for no other reason. The limits of your ambition were, thus, expected to be set forever. You were born into a society which spelled out with brutal clarity, and in as many ways as possible, that you were a worthless human being. You were not expected to aspire to excellence: you were expected to make peace with mediocrity .Wherever you have turned, James, in your short time on this earth, you have been told where you could go and what you could do (and how you could do it) and where you could live and whom you could marry. I know 70 your countrymen do not agree with me about this, and I hear them saying, “You exaggerate.” They do not know Harlem, and I do. So do you. Take no one’s word for anything, including mine—but trust your experience. Know whence you came. If you know whence you came, there is really no limit c to where you can go. The details and symbols of your life have been deliberately constructed to make you believe what white people say about you. Please try to remember that what they believe, as well as what they do and cause you to endure, does not testify to your inferiority but to their inhumanity and fear. Please try to be clear, dear James, through the storm which rages about your youthful head today, about the reality which lies behind the words acceptance and integration. 80 There is no reason for you to try to become like white people and there is no basis whatever for their impertinent assumption that they must accept you. The really terrible thing, old buddy, is that you must accept them. And I mean that very seriously. You must accept them and accept them with love. For these innocent people have no other hope. They are, in effect, still trapped in a history which they do not understand; and until they understand it, they cannot be released from it. They have had to believe for many years, and for innumerable reasons, that black men are inferior to white men. Many of them, indeed, know better, but, as you will discover, people find it very difficult to act on what they know. To act is to be committed, and to be committed is to be in danger. In this case, 90 the danger, in the minds of most white Americans, is the loss of their identity. Try to imagine how you would feel if you woke up one morning to find the sun shining and all the stars aflame. You would be frightened because it is out of the order of nature. Any upheaval in the universe is terrifying because it so profoundly attacks one’s sense of one’s own reality. Well, the black man has functioned in the white man’s world as a fixed star, as an immovable pillar: and as he moves out of his place, heaven and earth are shaken to their foundations. You, don’t be afraid. I said that it was intended that you should perish in the ghetto, perish by never b RHETORICAL DEVICES Identify words and phrases that are repeated in lines 52–59. What does this repetition contribute to the paragraph’s impact? mediocrity (mCQdC-JkP-rG-tC) n. lack of quality or excellence c IDENTIFY PURPOSE Reread lines 60–74. What is Baldwin’s main point? How do these ideas add to your understanding of his purpose for writing? impertinent (Gm-pûrPtn-Ent) adj. rude; ill-mannered Language Coach Synonyms A synonym is a word with a meaning similar to that of another word. As they are used in line 96, fixed and immovable are synonyms. How do these synonyms emphasize the non changing “role” the black man had played? my dungeon shook 1255 Thinking (1990), Carlton Murrell. Oil on board. Private collection. © Bridgeman Art Library. being allowed to go behind the white man’s definitions, by never being allowed to spell your proper name. You have, and many of us have, defeated this intention; 100 and, by a terrible law, a terrible paradox, those innocents who believed that your imprisonment made them safe are losing their grasp of reality. But these men are your brothers —your lost, younger brothers. And if the word integration means anything, this is what it means: that we, with love, shall force our brothers to see themselves as they are, to cease fleeing from reality and begin to change it. For this is your home, my friend, do not be driven from it; great men have done great things here, and will again, and we can make America what America must become. It will be hard, James, but you come from sturdy, peasant stock, men who picked cotton and dammed rivers and built railroads, and, in the teeth of 4 the most terrifying odds, achieved an unassailable and monumental dignity. You 110 come from a long line of great poets, some of the greatest poets since Homer. One of them said, The very time I thought I was lost, My dungeon shook and my chains fell off. 5 d You know, and I know, that the country is celebrating one hundred years of freedom one hundred years too soon. We cannot be free until they are free. God bless you, James, and Godspeed. Your uncle, James 4. in the teeth of: in spite of. 5. The very time . . . fell off: a quotation from the traditional spiritual “My Dungeon Shook.” It alludes to the Biblical story of Paul and Silas (Acts 16), who were freed from an unjust imprisonment by the action of an earthquake. unassailable (OnQE-sAPlE-bEl) adj. undeniable d IDENTIFY PURPOSE Reread lines 100–113. Which sentence best states Baldwin’s purpose in these lines? 1256 unit 6: contemporary literature ti o s n c L a e e n e o m h o , y s s ” - m E s h t r ' s l no i r f sa m E . e ra gr d g d h a hc as n d ar ro m d r g t e a d i ew r i o ed f it k ht w e a al n a uo w w e o i s n hp f r o ni r f e eh na lg s o n y m o u h a a n t e e i t a a d f k o w b nE r i h r t v y t r t f to y , e l h ps a a -s l d e e I s l s a s po t a a e l l a e t d w n u a z n h a u e u e y i nu ht m I l e n n h fi l n I i y g h c i at t w o W d h m y l l o f a . l a— ee k l o le e A ht . a t i l s , i n . a y y gn an c y e o c pm l k la t y w da g . re mi t a o an f s s c a s re M n t i n E o b s ga l t i i a la t e n m g m m ne h t m i o ko w n h e r e h i s s a e d h m m s . o ” w f r ht u d g ed y d m v n , o o t o l t n s a e o o m r I c u h t . ct t o e n n n a a e a g i n gn l a r a i a t r n r b e s t i ya i e p r a i A al t w a r h o m iv g it a ht w e e a l y g o h f h h t g a f i w l nr w ws h n . e t s y i g h v d e t t o , e u t t l a s r d r e , i a d r e t r i e r h i u , m k e f s a y r oh h no et ev g ht a e w s g ae w ni cn g n s o t g w se or e y su h d t n e t c s it ir o a — ed u s I r a o y g er i u e me ah uo , s e y h m e w e a y vo a e i a l w i e d g I , w la m e m s r m e t r m t a r m h o d s t d u e e c e s n x y I f s d n i r o t ra a y e a e d l t d a f aw d v w n f o h o p t n t sa u I n t s o m v a alw m p ug l nA tn . a e uo w id ra en o i y l a l d iw l of d o h n on ua n s s n p ec s h b t r e n t e o l e a l t s a m c t h t m a I I a . mo . e e R u I a k i r e h o h v it ci ufe m noi oo e su n i l i e ’ t w n eb a cu id s ef l c da o l d d s j t d a h c f r e t h mo J a g e s d s ’ n a i f r a a n a o a e y a e i c g n a i t I m a h l o a t I t w a m m h I s m c s d s h a E n w d I r n n r s n ir vo eh re a i d o e f xe r a i a e n t zt y k d t r r e T h m A e 5 8 9 orb iwS na isr ow eti h h c t i d ” , , e e s 1 s d A e v B r n w hw n ug en e r e n o in a e a n ih n a a T , o ih h r r td U d c , n bu n T e C . C a o f n ehta evom evie e s t e i a d t alee lC mow f r e o e g h r a s S u k t e u e i n wo f r e c r e e r t s e rf cuL e o s M e “ ka gna u aT nk h ht s o e d r n e ni e p y l g t y f o om J h S a h y h o s a s h s s n t J C e H n N mA eb h t . r a l S e g n n a i s e n e e vit ilg — o AT , 2 t s ae h ooh t m e tl hT e r a e n nE - S T 59 iya d d c n s or lp usn w t g h e a h 00 A r Y 1 n ss e h a f h mo oc ni eb n , t I r 6 eh MA i , e d t r n g a i T h s c c i h s t i . c s r eh h t i —— ai n e , ts r n e l im e to w to nro a , tfA 669 d i u e g d tfA emp bup an thg m p i M fi ts . 1 ne nil o . y d e ua n h w s laC ir bul n i t t a i d lev ro d x o no io C s a n nr e f e n r i , d n me k c ro a e h ofi d eb lp aci eh tal a m m u h l s m e r w e lk , t s L y ut s i e l aC ga , o s c n em oh r r e aO il o n r i e a gn u , g e n oi e A h h s n i ev J rb hw E so a ta t e e s n d e n on e h J n , m l ro s e e n im tc ro T n o dn i a p n r ro i a ef B ac r l e al A a M s o h l x f f S a c p C e a s u l er t e o c t n i n l w t a w p h e n w e r n m a s h 1 . I i e g p o d f p h i f i d h i t s e a y t . d o ht n t h , i at ti ht nE e e d T e u s na og s u I mo t t d e s t la , e e s s t s r m y - s t v t s a d . i u nu ht r r d e s r r il ah a e i r d ua im e . h y o , r ez e e h c e o y ed u t t iv ga ed o eh gn t c ” l“ ev et c i il as gu t sk eh d i e l s h o m t d y u a i u a m t E , a e i e l e e n t a s , i e eh as B n u v n g n m o g e n ” e , f m d d i i b b h o o h t cn ab e c a v er ne sa n t e h t s y . i a , n m e d k e es l , s t t I e i t w e t v en sa y e e l l i s k e o d k u s c il d . d a g n g f I e O c e m eh s tc , gn vi i ru e rb c a s e a f g h a r i e t n i r o m t en ef t e i h h L g tc re “ al m h , t d n a E h s i eh ve , o s ve f o l d o n . d r a S l i y h r ir t t . n a s h r t n e i ab f r lg e h l e n r s e a t e n h h l a e a s e r t a ” n , a r d o s o et . s s C p eh a d e e ka f o h t f i s o of d E s y c o i a w er i e o y , w s b e “ b t a r s et l t r t i t d , I p t h s a e e r I s p e r s e r n t s i i s r c e a re h n am S t s d n m ru ae t e s a r s v ’ o s e y a ht su oi ht mi h h ef ip tn , h y r e e o r t e . d ei o r S e p lc a h p I r ” a alw ht , o d j tp l“ w f re me em ls d h t h o f e ur kr r g T , x e , n o e m d e w f p f t u n o n o n f ht . n y e l e . yl ht ek x t i i r e cr o o s o mi o r oi at m W n i e Y o y m tn ik tc gau yr , e t s om o r s f e ae es ep nk re dem y t y ap re sr . o l h y l r e o b w e a e e g a b a e h b s y i h t m s e e p e e f m c r y e fr gn ga ni L “ y h ir b e e v ’e 1 t ah la e ne d r d M w d N k e f o p e e a m h t s t c o ’ o h l h s u l n e n s h a s n m p s p l I i m a r I s t I t p m a q t p i h u a t a h i a e e s h s e e n , r t l f y g d s s h h g , a y dn h t s ht rae cir af y i m d eht ni edi u e h D t aht ra t w n o o aic , e e H d o d a lia ti e m o s c e ug uo ah , d y n , t i e a l a -f s m - k a f h l h d os . i g d e r n w d s a n a f s t y s s s mi m a s tn oi h y r l e uf s p o g s a g it r , t n e o ’ a s e k t te it l e k o l i a ta r o a e w re u e h n e u ae o n t o nu ev ce e s h e l yob m m ” hS esr oo eY m ni h t ta s h w o s d ki s r e Z p , , s n , o o . o e b . os f t o , s y r l rev w s h i w op ew t L T vi t u n yls no er no ih t o n e c . v s n d s n ’ e k i ev n i h a e o , ah t r . o aw D u sr i w t C t y e a et d e n v oc e at d g a n lat ma no oc hg n y i l ro hs w dn n e h . y oir ep o ar . t m s no en i at n i , sr a u f c s n i m s at n l e h b o g i ss s a e g n , y l a i s h a w m a y ' s T t a im s t s n el t I o n t . e re ke Lc d him al im ih t g hS oh f a e d m ere u t b i . m g af e a k t o e t c su t i e r s p dn eW aM nu a t n g r a H e u — n t a r y c v a d x u o i r f n n d c o r n a t o g a e w r y t t u t r i n e n . f g t h w l i e I e y e ht o o t ahw ud ir r a e hy eb o s t n e o k up T o p t m n b n o h s e ae s l ’ e l r ert lr n i i s e u d b , t d c r l . e i Z i d g n e t h g e a S ih g w m et f o i D s u d e na ep l lac el m i w m ni ih n I a , h ut S l e o h c al a a . g n d D et ts s e , u s po o d o a k C ow e e t o s ca l b f t o si e e e s eb ag , p s g y r se D e e l ce t N c a . es e m aW ’ r l r ’ n o l s u p m , t t e n l n g b t d eh ir l y l a d ag im i ni p e o k b l e b . y a c r e na t i ’ y h s o l ac nE s a h a ie t cs ci im a a f e h su il ep ac k , i f aw of ps t nd hC m t as I t o e i m r t s h f m m na t af b h y s b o l l l i a e e o id . a h n da s o h t I s os r y il t o ’ ap a u g n h m s t r c p r | h c et er gn i d t e op r t e , r r n D co e i d a e n e f m o t e n . u s i , n . l v m n h e d eh o t i l i m o n e p i n m w il r h e g e a t v s s i s s g i t i m n a t h e s a t a i e i m h e t o n d o w e k E h h ah t t a u t L om g n h h t h a n o c C R ol ot i n o , k t o f o e t f l n . e T h e w . d f A k h r r o i m . l ' h w d o b e a n i y g H k t . e o . r m s I e de C d op s b N a w t t uo n e a a m w o m dd n e a t o d b i e v w . M l s e e kc dn s A t r i o iw y to a g d n r s e i e n os . l p d t r e h k k nn ig y y Y uo r i l ot i T t s t u e n t r a w u o g e o i g i a e s k s p a q i t s h Y n e o l n d w n m h e b e s Y M aht esu t u n e ht p l a l t kla sal gn apm t s ’ i k u p no ht l i g t i i r a o v o t a t a s b h r l r l e A r w P t a r r l d t a t b v f e h h u s o h a d e e o o e g o e e D n e f ' M t e o i F — e 2 n f e S r , e e d s m c e h h : “ t ee b a g n n n i y m e y Y h e l 06 su ve fid g I kil iv a as ht c y i to ra rt ls n e o sa a a o t . f p i o eh gn e t i h sa w b r m p s I h Z w m t s u l c t E t w e l a , m o v m e a e B e h i e , o a r h l d o i e p a v o d t g t s r l l t o e s e r h a d a m f s s n h o o h l h d n o n na l r co d e y ei n c o s t t h e t t a a c ts cn t d g g w e if l u o a S y s a l a , r p u n t l e e e u s l — o , f ’ b , l e r , t a B n o i a e t t y m o n e lac f h r s dl h . n h s l o y t l i p b I st oo s h r i i n . n t i n M m t n n r e ht a h t o e e g i l a , s p i . e e e a e t t i b h u l e sr h ma r e y e sp st p e e c e r m s s M s n c r c lg d o g w e t f al d t s m a p a s o s r l o g o k e s e h r ot od e r n n s p s n u Q g h d u e f b e d n h _ y t v r c E lu b h E a a r e s n h A I d e ni re t e a h c p ad , u s T al _ a E iw oc o e o t d s e e t i . e r t p t t e h n a j b _ w “ d h t w c l ’ e fi t e a , g d e t ne b te a e - . e a _ l , e t e e u n n re l h p n e l i i st du di eg g m n e i ts r ec h _ a e ” h : ht f n r a ow og ht t n i yb r o n hc se j s i , r ev di , t e e r eh n s e _ t - l r p e gn t g e ep cs y o u d s e o m e t n r o e l o e rr cn ni ed W ya i ni s w a m i n l h i w t n T a d m a ei y ec ko e h t r tn c v le cs ih ev ei n nu . w r l re -l w sn ax mr it n i A d h y t i l n l p a f e en w e c a d o cs e h e a px li a m e a im u d e C n m r l e e s o me b y n o t s w s e f r h t i n i k t u h e l n a e o o c l e A v ko o e M h eh n bi l l l e c e ve re t e o a o t d n w n i na r e T k l i cer f , ” a p t t i s i f g i g i n t h h a s e t a l h r s s e . s n o s ht so n w au a h w h c a d r s e g l d i c w n g s a n o hg l eg e o o m p I i y e g w ug a s l l e il it u e h r hT er o s s m u c oi w u t d u o h cn l y l a l y b ro na s n e a i l i n k uo do gn nec one ta ocs roc tset rep et oht e t h a t o e h t n b w a c m m a m l l l o s c m E m i n h , s , m d o o t g n r d e d e , t a r d o r ke na ih yld a ’I wt m n ni t ’ n ru no i t e ah of e d h id m T t e A n e o h e d v l ew T “ e m u o , k oc A l od k s a ts iu s s t l a C f , es s s u a h e u n , l o se c l ” I e e I a d q o n a t o h h fa e o r e ow t S Y e ? p s b i s t t i v d x oh gn g . “ h , e te f s I n i d s n it p d i s ht o x h i l e e i n c t m l A o h a i a s a l l n n g d u h n p i e , n i t h u o h g t a t c n e e r t e e a g h . t ” d t h n a s d i n on ow s h h i e al n ht w ni w se . e f e t is E e e h ti ol d a s d , k d i t t vn ps sk oh d t e a h te su va e o tn c a a h a t s d p s o a y d w d l n e a h s k n o c r o ih e p ne e iu cx h ew or f- gn r n o oh a eh a e u s e o y w ew e s h t c q e o f d i of o a c g h e t h b ow d h Y t h a t t e t t y y s s n e r o k t o h u e x r n u , e s r h e d i u y a s g w ev c w t n W o e r g e n n i o h e y no e T t h a m h eh o e e o t t a t o d e “ y b om i er re s lt g A v , t d s eh r t m S b . r o k n i e r e N o d n y d e h r y , e s g y r ew ht s a ne d C e a e h t h i d t i . t o a t s e a h e si g ld so h n o m Y w g e c ah a k s h S a h d a h t h t l a u b e a n e o e . t s x t o a r o k a w i , r t r h d l I l g d l a s e w t n e u p s e g o o e e r g w . n a i nE a ” . i m t I e t r a r e o s m , ni t b h n o t ” e e i T . o h e S o t ai a , . h t de h r a , r , N eh s h t m ba d l l ro h h e c e f h n g r ht g k n c ye ce u v i o o f n w el yl t n . s s i s o e m a h t itS fn to s n i . t s tn n of e id e n f Y r m o o ot et i a k r lg ni u e i n n s ro l e io i c n h o re r a . k t n l d a e m w M n t y o h . e r , m it m g la io at m c p d a t t orf t i r ’ d ’ ew I l E a uo M s d se y o e hw si ut nu tn C v e e e ’ e n I d e n r n . d k h f s i e s m n n i n o h a em g n r e i i a t e y o n n o r e t m d r s t m c m n n a k e s r u f as ts m h n i o p e d n s g e a i m I i a n g w i e a n n d c i h n h l “ i e w h , o l o o i oc t a ar it p s t e cs w es is as no t a i g a l h k , w ol r t rb im ro t e m h eh a p d id b a a r u e o c e t c r c l ek , i m S o w a m f m r w o l t r l ’ e I r u b le o e t eh o r o re e s l u tn n . y h t o c o eh N d o k f r a e d p ” n , e b t c e h b h e r , s a f t A e i d . h o n h e k o g g b e t a d m e h z e x e n o T n rt a na to d em e ta , h s o ro ni rb e a h h kc o c e s t s n i si ig hs y e n id i na Y e n T m e h r g Y y k t n t o m c s e l o a e e M p t a s h o t t a g n r co a t , e y u l io ra lg l d h h r e A p r . n y d e n e s w t t e m v h s pm r p e n op n t e to o k ah i i sr M y i l h nA it k hT e s s i g r u m d i e a pa h E a a va w b m a 4 f M y e N a e e d W f t t n h o m 0 r o a u s W e te e w o e c h e uo on hs n r e sa n n o s t a o n o d y a 6 s o s i “ h g w t I t r y e i a h w a m eb n cs t k h na o t y n s e m l c t t a t u n i o h d a e r , n r i ltn e d d n d r e e h b na r l o s c n if y t m a age rc ets sr b ecs t t s e to aer ge ht et em ek cs ta a A ut c i h e o n n o e b y a i , a b g m e b s o h ed ls c s r a s n l m f u n t h i r : r if . s c et ta b it i n so o I i t e h l t s ' t y h h I t et ti b“ n e a in ts n s e a m p o r g b a h t t a i d C ti n . m r t —s i t w b s r g e c d e t m e n h w a k m ow o h t w eb d a y t is t i v e a o t us y it d y l t h e o cu e n c i f I s t i a f p a e l n d reh h r b n h n s t i m u 5 b I r n L r w s a w u s e ia s o i e m o i e a sri rw o y h 8 e f o y u y o r n ed r o d n u f o b t e b d l A s o d s pp g f b s 9 v e o a n o a S w e i r h re g , n - la l n a ni d d I e 1 tt or lp J d o sa er o y e . l r k s c c c o t el E na a t a g h vo y t r m l o d l h i g p ma e n h a rp er d s a e r ra g al s h e d d l o n i h y n e r 1 a t n tn u y x T u y r d e e 1 r si d u e h i s g i . p t r u o l e o q l o n i h o e n a w A h s o s a s h l t f o o s y l i n i t t e , t t a n e i c t f g b c ah r m e i r s m y id ja a I w l l ’ n I i a ni l r a a , s y ed om m e h h nE g h a t t h e w l o m f i I . n f s t b i s c h c m s p . k t y l I d a t s o m a t m eta o d h s r tn sa a ’ d e a ne e n t vn t a u e il i e g h i ih i I t , s o e hr o d n e s e e t e w h l r w m ac a e r o r gn h t m w st et r h e rf en u gn il m- t s m t w i u eH s n I u e d d ba E w ; t , a n p e t r e g e e f ro e o e t y t . l t a d s , ”e m e a ed e t h r t y p d oF ll nE rp a w ga u to w e i m h r o c uo er e id e r h e lp re se hw u n e a p a k e n B r t g a ed s i F h ir t h m t n e t h n n w a h n s y a a w s e o e t i d i r s m t i A a h c a a ew m m h I t ug am aw hw h I t ts hs l o l a m s“ et hC na g m o c s f f , o l o m w g w s e , a s e o ni o S d it o o re e y t m n la e t a v au te i h n e n n o r s e n v a r t v i s r a l t a a a T dr T . m o na s s i d e n nk i f n d h e a h i sn no to eb c i o ah ci h o t i w m l i f o o e t n t m ci s u m m e i s d e I r s g c a h k I e k A r d s r A e u c e f a t t s r t o go l e u v’ e e y t m o a h f o s h . s u n a s . f l u vi t e y I m w ht u A h w , s i t e i y o us d s uj e o t sa n m y A ef h B - , o m a s t l o r l s i s w k r a — l a w a p p l t - W , n l t t i a a w a ll , a g i h e n e l . a n e e h s g a c l s ih c t o ri t t s s n bi I c s o t s u u . o ta a r ? 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