Oh Mother

     Her mother - her mother always so kind and tender towards her - seemed now and then so much disconnected with their situation; thought that the bishop strangely neglected his episcopal duties, in not giving Mr Hale a better living; and almost reproached her husband because he could not bring himself to say that he wished to leave the parish, and undertake the charge of a larger. Her would sigh aloud as he answered, that if he could do what he ought in little Helstone, he should be thankful; but every day he was more overpowered; the world became more bewildering.... Mrs Hale said that the near neighbourhood of so many trees affected her health... [Margaret] was sure that her mother had accustomed herself to much to an in-dor life.

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 Elizabeth Gaskell's North and South, Volume 1 ch. 1 (pg) 19

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     Margaret's mother is so confusing to me. I wish Gaskell had spent more time forming her character before the move. If she did not like the trees in the country, why was moving to town so difficult on her health? As the book says, she was use to staying inside the home. That is how it was in the North, yet she hated it. Mrs. Hale, originally a beautiful party girl, did not seem to be what she was before the move, so she must have been getting sick before she left Helstone. Maybe she had some disease, perhaps genetic, that she took with her to the North, which would mean that it was not Mr. Hale's fault, for which he blamed himself and agonized over, that she died. Also, when was Mrs. Hale nice to Margaret. I so would have liked to see that side of her, but all I see in the book is that Margaret is just another person to her mother, whereas the maid is a dear friend. Supposedly, Mrs. Hale was nice, or perhaps it is simply Margaret's blindness and optimism that makes her think that her mother actually loved her.

Back to the Beginning

    "She is a lucky girl," replied another voice, which Margaret knew to be that of Mrs. Gibson, a lady who was taking a double interest in the conversation, from the fact of one of her daughters having been married within the last few weeks. "Helen had set her heart upon an Indian shawl, but really when I found what an extravagant price was asked, I was obliged to refuse her. She will be quite envious when she hears of Edith having Indian shawls. What kind are they? Delhi? with the lovely little borders?"
    ... "Edith! Edith!" cried she.... Margaret stepped forward.
     "Edith is asleep, Aunt Shaw. Is there anything I can do?"
     All the ladies said, "Poor child!" on receiving this distressing intelligence about Edith; and a minute lap-dog in Mrs. Shaw's arms began to bark, as if excited by the burst of pity.....

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 Elizabeth Gaskell's North and South, Volume 1 ch. 1 (pg) 9

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     When I think of a heroine, I picture that in this exact situation she would not be socializing with the frivolous women talking of expensive scarves or holding a fancy purse puppy, but she would be wishing to be of some assistance to anyone. She would wants something productive and practical to do. Seeing Margaret, when she was in her old home in the beginning of the book, as board and odd make me wonder why she hated the North so much at first. The South was never very good to her, other than the bits of silence, where she could escape to a grassy spot and read or day dream. I hate the women, living with her in the South, who are so spoiled, like Edith. What has she accomplished to be tired? Is flirting and being adored really that exhausting? Why does everyone like her? Because she's pretty, and everyone loves a wedding. Poor Margaret. Even in the North, women are frivolous, like Fanny. The heroine must be the unique one mustn't she?

A Unique Sort of Girl

     Margaret could not help her looks; but the short upper lip, the round, massive up-turned chin, the manner of carrying her head, her movements, full of soft feminine defiance, always gave strangers the impression of haughtiness. She was tired now, and would rather have remained silent and taken the rest her father had planned for her; but, of course, she owed it to herself to be a gentlewoman, and to speak courteously from time to time to this stranger; not over-brushed, nor over polished, it must be confessed, after his rough encounter with Milton streets and crowds. She wished that he would go....

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 Elizabeth Gaskell's North and South, Volume 1 ch. 7 (pg) 63

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     Margaret is so unique. I love how she is not perfect, or beautiful, or cheerful, or social, which are traits of most heroines. Not everyone loves her. In Pride and Prejudice, which is of course the book I compare everything to, Elizabeth Bennet always knows what witty thing to say. She goes to parties, where she is admired, and always appears beautiful, even when her skirt is splattered with mud. Here, Margaret, who has time on her hands, is frustrated with having one person in the house. She, who is an extreme introvert, has not been around too many people, has had plenty of time to rest, but when the most handsome man in town walks in her door, she wants him to leave. This makes me so happy. Elizabeth knew how to flirt, as she did with Whickham, but Margaret sends off a haughty, prideful, unintentional look. She is so different from typical women, and I love her for it.

Margaret the Superhuman

     He tottered towards her, murmuring, "Pray for me, Margaret. I have no strength left in me. I cannot pray. I give her up because I must. I try to bear it: indeed I do. I know it is God's will. But I cannot see why she died. Pray for me, Margaret, that I may have faith to pray. It is a great strait, my child."
     Margaret sat by him in the coach, almost supporting him in her arms; and repeating all the noble verses of holy comfort, or texts expressive of faithful resignation, that she could remember. Her voice never faltered.

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 Elizabeth Gaskell's North and South, Volume 2 ch. 33 (pg) 263

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      Is Margaret superhuman? She who was an innocent, naive country girl must have had a god helping her stay strong after having everything ripped away from her. She who was broken-hearted by moving now has to comfort the one who made her move? It is her mother who died. It is her father who killed her mother. It is she who has to keep everyone's dark secrets.
     Her father is the one who was strong in his faith. It was because of that faith that he moved to the north. Why then is he the weak one? Did he care more for his wife than Margaret did her mother? Did he care enough about his wife to ask her opinion of the move? Did he care about his wife to comfort her and tell her he loved her? He did not even know his wife was sick! Did either mother of father build Margaret up to be a strong, confident woman? No. How did she get so strong? It certainly was not a bred trait. Her parents who spoke very little to her expected her to manage everything difficult. Was she ever trained in how to do such things? What is her secret?

First Impressions

     Margaret opened the door and went in with the straight, fearless, dignified presence habitual to her. She felt no awkwardness; she had too much the habits of society for that. Here was a person come on business to her father; and, as he was one who had shown himself obliging, she was disposed to treat him with a full measure of civility. Mr. Thornton was a good deal more surprised and discomforted than she. Instead of a quiet, middle-aged clergyman, -a young lady came forward with frank dignity, - a young lady of a different type to most of those he was in the habit of seeing. Her dress was very plain: a close straw bonnet of the best material and shape, trimmed with white ribbon; a dark silk gown, without any trimming or flounce; a large Indian shawl, which hung about her in long heavy folds, and which she wore as an empress wears her drapery. He did not understand who she was, as he caught the simple, straight, unabashed look, which showed that his being there was of no concern to the beautiful countenance, and called up no flush of surprise to the pale ivory of the complexion.

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 Elizabeth Gaskell's North and South, Volume 1 ch. 7 (pg) 62-63

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      Whenever I read this scene, I think to myself how interesting it is that all these details, explained with such beautiful words, support and shape how affected Margaret is from moving to the North. Her dress is dark as in mourning, the shawl is long and heavy as the weight on her heart is, and her face is pale as ivory as though she were getting sick from the lack of clean air. Yet despite these unattractive traits, Mr. Thornton sees a lady full of dignity, like an empress. Perhaps his shock at seeing her and not her father prevents him from seeing the pain she carries. But it is as if since she wishes to appear mature, strong and capable, Thornton sees her that way, even though apparent signs show she is otherwise. (This goes to show what a performance people can put on to hide what they truly feel inside. One must look deeper if he hopes to discover if a soul is genuine.) All the other girls in the North are like Fanny, Thornton's sister, stupid and frivolous. Finding a lady with a presence of confidence was probably so shocking that it stuck him how attractive she must be to simply be different. Lucky for Margaret that a first impression like that veiled her stubborn and ignorant manner.

Leave the Girl Alone

     "Come, Miss Hale - come, my dear! You must not give way, or where shall we all be? There is not another person in the house fit to give a direction of any kind, and there is so much to be done. There's who's to manage the funeral; and who's to come to it; and where it's to be; and all to be settled: and Master Fredrick's like one crazed with crying, and master never was a good one for settling; and, poor gentleman, he goes about now as if he were lost. It's bad enough, my dear, I know; but death comes to us all; and you're well off never to have lost any friend till now."

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 Elizabeth Gaskell's North and South, Volume 2 ch. 31 (pg) 247

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      Oh my gosh! She just lost her mother! She just lost her best (only) friend! What are you talking about, saying she's not lost people before? She had to leave all her friends and her home to be dragged out here to the North! She has had way to much pressure keeping secrets from her father and trying to comfort everyone and run everything. How dare you! Leave her alone! You, having conspired with her mother to keep secrets from her, should be ashamed of yourself. Telling Margret that she should be thankful, you should do something helpful for once. Grow up you hypocrite!

Poor Poor Women

     "My dear Lizzy, do not give way to such feelings as these. They will ruin your happiness. You do not make allowance enough for difference of situation and temper. Consider Mr. Collins's respectability, and Charlotte's prudent, steady character. Remember that she is one of a large family; that as to fortune, it is a most eligible match; and be ready to believe, for every body's sake, that she may feel some regard and esteem for our cousin."

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 Jane Austen's Pride and Prejudice, Volume 2 ch. 1 (pg) 133

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      I really pity the women during the time of Jane Austen's era. Sure they lived when life seemed a bit more simple and elegant, but in the case of ladies like Charlotte, living with a large, poor family, they spent the first twenty years of their lives worrying whether they could find a man who would ever consider marrying them. Being plain and not having much to tempt anyone, the girl would have to jump at catching the first man, no matter what his age or looks, who could give her a place to live and relieve her family of her burdensome existence. If they were never truly loved or never truly loved the one they married, that was simply something  they had to deal with. Marrying Mr. Collins, Charlotte had to convince herself that she was luckier than most in her position, for at least he "loved" her.

Rejected

     Mr. Darcy, who leaning against the mantle-piece with his eyes fixed on her face, seemed to catch her words with no less resentment than surprise. His complexion became pale with anger, and the disturbance of his mind was visible in every feature. He was struggling for the appearance of composure, and would not open his lips till he believed it attained. The pause was to Elizabeth's feelings dreadful. At length, in a voice of forced calmness, he said,
     "And this is all the reply which I am to have the honour of expecting! I might, perhaps, wish to be informed why, with so little endeavour at civility, I am thus rejected. But it is of small importance."

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 Jane Austen's Pride and Prejudice, Volume 2 ch. 11 (pg) 186

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      Oh Darcy. Poor Darcy. He, the man who looked like a fool in front of his friends because he complimented Elizabeth, was now being rejected by that very girl. He, the man who had done all he could to help free Elizabeth's sister of being partnered with someone she did not truly favor, was to be spoken to so rudely by a prejudice, poor, uncivilized, passionate, perfect, beautiful, captivating girl. She shattered his pride by rejecting his proposal; 'But it is of small importance,' my foot. He, a man in love, had to regain his pride after his vulnerability had been abused. The more I read this book, the less favorably I view Elizabeth. He should not have retaliated so harshly though, after all, his proposal had been disrespectful. But can one really blame him?

Mr. Bennet

     But the morrow passed off much better than she had expected; for Mrs. Bennet luckily stood in awe of her intended son-in-law, that she ventured not to speak to him, unless it was in her power to offer him any attention, or mark her deference for his opinion.
     Elizabeth had the satisfaction of seeing her father taking pains to get acquainted with him; and Mr. Bennet soon assured her that he was rising every hour in his esteem.
     "I admire all my three sons-in-law highly," said he. "Wickham, perhaps, is my favorite; but I shall like your husband quite as well as Jane's."

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 Jane Austen's Pride and Prejudice, Volume 3 ch. 17 (pg) 358

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      I could not fathom why in the world would Wickham be Mr. Bennet's favorite son-in-law. Wickham, the man who had eloped with the youngest Bennet daughter, was the favorite now? Wickham, the man who had brought shame upon the family, was liked better than the two richest men, Mr. Bingley and Mr. Darcy, in the book. Mr. Bennet had been furious and did not want Lydia, the youngest daughter, or Wickham to come anywhere near his home after they had eloped. So why would Mr. Bennet prefer the wild soldier to the civil gentlemen?
     Then it hit me. Mr. Wickham married Lydia, the wild, obnoxious child. He took her to live with him many miles away from Longbourn, Mr. Bennet's estate. Wickham had given Mr. Bennet the gift of peace and quiet now that Lydia was far away, whereas Darcy and Bingley were taking the two older, more mature daughters Mr. Bennet would miss them, especially Lizzie, but never, never ever would he miss Lydia.

The Difficulty of Coming of Age

Finny got up from the cot, picking up his cane as an afterthought. He looked oddly at me, his face set to burst out laughing I thought. “Naturally I don’t believe books and I don’t believe teachers,” he came across a few paces, “but I do believe —it’s important after all for me to believe you. Christ, I’ve got to believe you, at least. I know you better than anybody.” I waited without saying anything. “And you told me about Leper, that he’s gone crazy. That’s the word, we might as well admit it. Leper’s gone crazy. When I heard that about Leper, then I knew that the war was real, this war and all the wars. If a war can drive somebody crazy, then it’s real all right. Oh I guess I always knew, but I didn’t have to admit it.” He perched his foot, small cast with metal bar across the bottom to walk on, next to where I was sitting on the cot. “To tell you the truth, I wasn’t too completely sure about you, when you told me how Leper was. Of course I believed you,” he added hurriedly, “but you’re the nervous type, you know, and I thought maybe your imagination got a little inflamed up there in Vermont. I thought he might not be quite as mixed up as you made out.” Finny’s face tried to prepare me for what came next. “Then I saw him myself.”

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 John Knowles' A Separate Peace, ch. 1 (pg) 163

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    The hardest part of growing up is realizing that there are in fact people that you cannot trust. Being young is great because a person can be naive and think everyone else is innocent too. If only that could be the case. If only everyone were like Finny -not like him with his injury and all, but with his personality. As a person grows up, he finds that even his best friend could be his greatest enemy.

In this section of the book, Knowles did a beautiful job of giving the readers a glimpse of the struggle of the two boys as they grow older. They both struggle to understand their identity. Gene wonders if he is a bad person. He wonders if he really hated Finny and wished him to come to ruin, or if it was a casualty. Finny wonders if he can believe his best friend. He wants to believe him so badly, but he does not know if he can. He doesn't want to be naive any longer. I love how he goes through this monologue and says what he does and does not believe. As he verbalizes his thoughts, he is discovering even more what he really does believe. He changes his mind as he goes, determining what others mean to him despite what they have or have not done. It is a big task, but it is something that every human goes through when he is a teen. He tries to decipher the truth and decide not just who he trusts but who he should trust.

A Separate Peace

     Finny never left anything alone, not when it was well enough, not when it was perfect. “Let’s go jump in the river,” he said under his breath as we went out of the sun porch. He forced compliance by leaning against me as we walked along, changing my direction; like a police car squeezing me to the side of the road, he directed me unwillingly toward the gym and the river. “We need to clear our heads of that party,” he said, “all that talk!”

     “Yes. It sure was boring. Who did most of the talking anyway?”

     Finny concentrated. “Mr. Patch-Withers was pretty gassy, and his wife, and …”

     “Yeah. And?”

     Turning a look of mock shock on me, “You don’t mean to infer that I talked too much!”

     Returning, with interest, his gaping shock, “You? Talk too much? How can you accuse me of accusing you of that!” As I said, this was my sarcastic summer. It was only long after that I recognized sarcasm as the protest of people who are weak. 

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 John Knowles' A Separate Peace, ch. 2 (pg) 29

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    Weak? Weak? How dare he. I love sarcasm and sarcastic people. Sarcasm is a sign that a person is mentally healthy, since many people cannot understand it until they are at least five. It is a great way to exercise the brain, and it would seem that everyone likes people who are sarcastic. My brother, father, and I are all very sarcastic people, and none of us have enemies. Everyone loves us. We make people laugh. How is that weak?
     There are different kinds of sarcasm, so perhaps he was not referring to every form of it. The sarcasm he uses, simply repeating what the other person says, can get annoying and seem immature. I suppose sarcasm does have its problems... can have problems... No. Actually the only time one may say it has problems is when it is overused; I would say that since the people who use sarcasm are particularly clever (because they are observant of their audiences and change what they say or how they deliver it depending on their audience) they never overuse it. It is the people who are not as clever who try to use it, sometimes over do it, and fail that give all the rest of us a bad name. That is not true sarcasm. Those people are impostors.
     Just think, if all the great people in the world were sarcastic, the world would be a much better place. Since everyone had that sense of humor, no one would get offended. In fact, everyone would be great friends because they could appreciate the other person and their skills in word choice and delivery.

Anne of Green Gables

"I'm sorry I was late," he said shyly... "Give me your bag."

"Oh, I can carry it," the child responded cheerfully. "It isn't heavy. I've got all my worldly goods in it, but it isn't heavy. And if it isn't carried in just a certain way the handle pulls out--so I'd better keep it because I know the exact knack of it. It's an extremely old carpet-bag. Oh, I'm very glad you've come, even if it would have been nice to sleep in a wild cherry-tree...

The child put out her hand and broke off a branch of wild plum that brushed against the side of the buggy.

"Isn't that beautiful? What did that tree, leaning out from the bank, all white and lacy, make you think of?" she asked.

"Well now, I dunno," said Matthew.

"Why, a bride, of course--a bride all in white with a lovely misty veil. I've never seen one, but I can imagine what she would look like. I don't ever expect to be a bride myself. I'm so homely nobody will ever want to marry me-- unless it might be a foreign missionary. I suppose a foreign missionary mightn't be very particular. But I do hope that some day I shall have a white dress. That is my highest ideal of earthly bliss. I just love pretty clothes.

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 Lucy Maud Montgomery's Anne of Green Gables, ch. 2

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    Oh Anne. She is so simple, cute, and care-free. She does not care that she knows nothing of the people who are adopting her, she just imagines them to be the nicest people ever. She has so little, but she has so much. She is so full of thankfulness despite being treated badly in the orphanage. Everything she sees is the most beautiful thing to her. She only can have a favorite something for thirty seconds before it changes. She is pretty dramatic too, which is where we are similar. That and her innocence.
   I also love Matthew's cool reaction to Anne. He is so introverted. Here he wanted a boy, bu he gets a girl. Does he complain? Not even in his thoughts. He accepts Anne and enjoys her constant chatter. He does not care that she is not beautiful, in fact, he probably likes that she is more of a tomboy.
    Montgomery was such a talented writer. She had the perfect blend of description and imagery along with dialogue. The reader cannot help but fall in love with the characters Montgomery wants them to love and hate the ones she wants them to hate. I love Anne of Green Gables.

                                                                                                                                                  ~Alayna~

Red Badge of Courage

     Near the threshold he stopped, horror-stricken at the sight of a thing.

     He was being looked at by a dead man who was seated with his back against a column like tree. The corpse was dressed in a uniform that had once been blue, but was now faded to a melancholy shade of green. The eyes, staring at the youth, had changed to the dull hue to be seen on the side of a dead fish. The mouth was open. Its red had changed to an appalling yellow. Over the gray skin of the face ran little ants. One was trundling some sort of bundle along the upper lip.

     The youth gave a shriek as he confronted the thing. He was for moments turned to stone before it. He remained staring into the liquid-looking eyes. The dead man and the living man exchanged a long look.

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Stephen Crane's The Red Badge of Courage, ch. 7 page 101

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    (Applause) Stephen Crane did a fabulous job at describing this moment. He creates uncomfortable, disturbing feelings in his readers. His description does not go on for too long, and he has the talent of not making it boring. He has captivated and engaged his reader. His words are very easy to picture and flow very smoothly. Despite its disgusting topic, I like this passage. It is very realistic. It really gives the reader an idea of what Henry would be thinking at that moment. My favorite part is, 'The dead man and the living man exchanged a long look.' It makes it sound as though the dead man were partly alive, or at least able to come back to life. If I was in that situation, I would not want to take my eyes off of the dead man for fear he would move even though it was very apparent he was dead. It is nice to have the main character thinking the same thoughts as you are. Stephan Crane is a skilled writer, and I enjoy his work.

                                                                                                                                                  ~Alayna~

Keep up with the Style

     'Edith!' said Margaret, gently, 'Edith!' 

     But, as Margaret half suspected, Edith had fallen asleep. She lay curled up on the sofa in the back drawing-room in Harley Street, looking very lovely in her white muslin and blue ribbons. If Titania had ever been dressed in white muslin and blue ribbons, and had fallen asleep on a crimson damask sofa in a back drawing-room, Edith might have been taken for her. Margret was struck afresh by her cousin's beauty. They had grown up together from childhood, and all along Edith had been remarked upon by everyone, except Margaret, for her prettiness; but Margaret had never thought about it until the last few days, when the prospect of soon losing her companion seemed to give force to every sweet quality and charm which Edith possessed. They had been talking about wedding dresses, and wedding ceremonies; and Captain Lennox, and what he had told Edith about her future life at Corfu, where his regiment was stationed; and the difficulty of keeping a piano in good tune (a difficulty which Edith seemed to consider as one of the most formidable that could befall her in her married life), and what gowns she should want in visits to Scotland, which would immediately succeed her marriage; but the whispered tone had latterly become more drowsy; and Margaret after a pause of a few moments, found, as she fancied, that in spite of the buzz in the next room, Edith had rolled herself up into a soft ball of muslin and ribbon, and silken curls, and gone off into a peaceful little after-dinner nap.

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Elisabeth Gaskell's North and South, ch. 1 page 7

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     'Sarah!' called Cossette, kindly, 'Sarah!'

     Unfortunately, as Kolton has explained, Sarah had left home. She had crawled uncomfortably out through the window by the musty study near Cossette's room, hurrying very desperately in a frantic manner and torn dress. If Cossette had ever crawled near the study and the window, and had sneaked away on an important, special occasion in a torn dress, she might have been whipped to death. Cossette was angry with her crazy student's behavior. She had tried from dawn to dusk, and no advice had Sarah been taking into consideration, except once, to master self-control; but Sarah could not be trained in a week nor in a long, heavy month, when all efforts of Cossette teaching her pupil were pointless to make with such an unreasonable time limit and child which Frederick had assigned. Cossette had been teaching about dinner etiquette, and dinner preparing; and cleaning house, and what she had learned from her mom about her mother's professional ways with royalty, where her skills were formed; and the struggle of earning a tip among such people (a struggle that Cossette was to learn all too well with the heaviest burden that anyone could imagine in his entire life), and what labors she would accomplish at work in the mansion, which was largely furnished with furniture; and the delicate chairs had to be polished with care; and her mother after an hour of non-stop work, would learn, as was the common way, that in fact near the kitchen around the corner needed more dusting. Cossette had overcome herself near as many troubles with cleaning and teaching, and managing kids, and such with a firm, hard, tolerating hand.

                                                                                                                                                  ~Alayna

Every Little Act Makes a Difference

    Were it not for the web-footed rodent and a haberdashery fad in eighth-century Europe, Minnesota might be a Canadian province today. The beaver, almost as much as the horse, helped shape the course of early American history. Some Mayflower colonists paid their passage with beaver pelts; and a good fur could bring an Indian three steel knives or a five-foot stack could bring a musket. But even more influential were the trappers and fur traders penetrating the great Northern wilderness between the Mississippi River and the Rocky Mountains, since it was their presence that helped hold the Near West against British expansion from the north; and it was their explorations that opened the heart of the nation to white settlement. These men, by making pelts the currency of the wilds, laid the base  for a new economy that quickly overwhelmed the old. And all because European men of mode simply had to wear a beaver hat.

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William Least Heat Moon's Blue Highways (1982)

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     If it had not been for a forty-two year old woman and a small group of others in the twentieth-century America, America would not be the same place it is today. Rosa Parks, almost as normal as any other black, helped change the way all people viewed blacks. Some other activists stayed their ground on buses; but when Parks stayed seated as a white asked if she would sit in the back or at least move off the seat, the beginning of a revolution took place. But even more effective was the group and black president elected to lead the Montgomery Improvement Association fighting for the rights of black men and women, since it was Martin Luther that overwhelmed the hearts of many people even some white. His words, which encouraged the revolt of the blacks, brought the equality for a people that had been taken advantage of.  Thousands of folks died, but African Americans were finally free. And all because Rosa Parks of all the women in the world simply decided not to leave her seat on a bus.

                                                                                                                                                  ~Alayna~