How Many More Years (Second Rough Draft)

How Many More Years

Several years ago I held a part-time job at a retirement community. This was not a home for dementia or for anyone especially ill. It was just a place for elderly people that were too weak to look after themselves. The home was nothing much to look at; an old, plain, dilapidated building with coat upon coat of white paint that cracked and wilted like a vase full of white roses that don’t get enough water. The lobby, where relatives come to check-in was renovated a week before I began working there. I can still smell the fresh lacquer.  After the lobby, there was a deep hallway lined with framed black and white portraits of nurses and caretakers of the distant past. At the end of the hallway was an elevator that transported family and staff to the inhabitants’ dwellings.

The first day I met Robert was the first day I started. He was eighty-nine and always exuded vibrancy in all manners, like the way he colorfully dressed seems to stick in my mind now more than anything. A part of my job was laundry. During the scheduled lunch hour for the seniors, I made my rounds to each room picking up loads of musky clothing. First stop happened to be Robert’s. The room was tiny with a twin bed near a small window. However, what caught my eye were the stacks of vinyl records that overtook almost the entire living space. The stacks covered the entire wall from floor to ceiling. I quickly forgot why I was there and started to shuffle through these vinyl artifacts. They were not in any order that was familiar to me. The records had post-it notes on them, being labeled first kiss, first girl I danced with, Phillip born 1959, etc.

            While I was lost in the array of the racks of vinyl records, I failed to notice a man that was in the doorway of the room. “Ahem!” I turned around in a jolt and saw a short and stubby man no taller than what must have been 5’2”. 

“My boy! What do ya think you’re doin’ boy? What’s your name?”

I quietly responded, “Arthur, sir.”

He approached me and snatched a record I forgot I had picked up. He looked at the record, which was labeled Phillip born 1959.  Robert slipped the record out of the sleeve casing, blew the dust off of it, and placed it on his record player. With his wrinkled hand, he smoothly lifted the needle and placed it gently on a precise groove of the vinyl surface.

“Ah, Howlin’ Wolf. You know boy, that this year was very important. This was the record I was playin’ when the Lord decided it was time for my first-born to come into this world.”

 He closed his eyes and started humming to the song, “How Many More Years”.

As I stood there in the midst of his recollection I felt an immediate connection. I shut my eyes while his gentle voice guided me. He continued picking out a few more records and gave me a vivid and detailed picture of his memories. Some were happy, some were sad, and some were downright hilarious. Robert was always full of life in retelling his past, even when he was going over the more somber parts of his life.

“How about this one?” I handed over a Miles Davis vinyl.

“Ah. Kind of Blue. I haven’t listened to this since…” He paused for a moment.

“…Since I last talked to my daughter. Her name is Irene. Haven’t seen her for

five years.” Robert slipped the vinyl out and placed it in the record player.

The vinyl began spinning and out of it came a soft piano accompanied by a calm cello. A sharp trumpet abruptly pierced through the sonic waves that the piano and cello carefully constructed.

            “The last thing she said to me was that I had no place in her heart.”

 The high-pitched trumpet continued to set the harmonic pace until it dissipated and gave it back to the piano and cello.

            “She told me I was already dead to her.”

Just as soon as the piano and cello were finally getting it back to how it started a saxophone took over which seemed to shift the harmonic rhythm.

            “I’ve made mistakes, too many to count, I know that boy,”

The saxophone began to dwindle into obscurity, where the trumpet reemerged, challenging the piano to keep up.

            “I’m a lonely old fool, with nothin’ but my memories.”

 The tempo began slowing and the sounds became dissonant. The piano soloed out the piece in a plaintive tone that made me inexplicably shiver.

~

This continued throughout the week. By the end of the week, at the scheduled lunch hour, I hastily made my way toward Robert’s room. I cracked the door open and saw him sitting at the edge of his bed with a bewildered expression upon his face. He noticed me standing in the doorway and gestured me to come in.

“There’s not enough time. Not enough time.”

I saw an open notebook on the bed beside him and noticed what looked like estimates in very careful handwriting.

“Ah boy, I did the math. I figure I don’t have much time left so I started to go on figurin’ how long it would take to listen to my records again. I just don’t have time boy. Even if I listened to all my records back to back staying up all night and day, I just won’t have time to listen to all my memories.”

I studied his calculations and inwardly agreed as I placed my hand on his shoulder in a comforting manner. I stood there thinking of all the songs he had yet to listen to; each song with its packet of memory allowing him to relive with pure emotion, his loved ones and happier moments of his life. He was right. He did not have the time.

We stood there in silence for several minutes until Robert snapped us out of our contemplative state.

“Ah the hell with it boy! I better get started! Pick one we haven’t listened to yet!” He began to tell a story, but with a disheartened tone.

~

He never brought it up again. Things continued just as normal where he would reveal to me his wealth of experiences for about four months until Robert passed away peacefully in his sleep. The day we found him Robert had the Howlin’ Wolf record placed on his record player with the needle skipping from needing to be flipped to side two. My shaky hand lifted the needle and placed it unsteadily on a groove. As “I’m Leavin’ You” started playing I picked up the casing of the album and noticed an extra added post-it labeled, first time I met my friend, Arthur.

How Many More Years (Rough)

How Many More Years

Several years ago I held a part-time job at a retirement community. This was not a home for dementia or for anyone especially ill. It was just a place for elderly people that were too weak to look after themselves.

The first day I met Robert was the first day I started my new part-time job. He was eighty-nine and always exuded vibrancy in all manners, like the way he colorfully dressed seems to stick in my mind now more than anything. A part of my job was laundry. During the scheduled lunch hour, I made my rounds to each room. First stop happened to be Robert’s. The room was tiny with a twin bed near a small window. However, what caught my eye were the stacks of vinyl records that overtook almost the entire living space. The stacks covered the entire wall from floor to ceiling. I quickly forgot why I was there and started to shuffle through these vinyl artifacts. They were not in any order that was familiar to me, but I soon understood what method there was in the arrangement of these records. The records had post-it notes on them, being labeled first kiss, first girl I danced with, Phillip born 1959, etc.

            While I was lost in the array of the racks of vinyl records, I failed to notice a man that was in the doorway of the room. “Ahem!” I turned around in a jolt and saw a short and stubby man no taller than what must have been 5’2”.  “My boy! What do ya think you’re doin’ boy? What’s your name?” I quietly responded, “Arthur, sir.” He approached me and snatched a record I subconsciously forgot I had picked up. He looked at the record, which was labeled Phillip born 1959.  Robert slipped the record out of the sleeve casing, blew the dust off of it, and placed it on his record player. With his wrinkled hand, he smoothly lifted the needle and placed it gently on a precise groove of the vinyl surface. “Ah, Howlin’ Wolf. You know boy, that this year was very important. This was the record I was playin’ when the Lord decided it was time for my first-born to come into this world.” He closed his eyes and started humming to the song, “How Many More Years”.

As I stood there in the midst of his recollection I felt an immediate connection. He continued picking out a few more records and gave me a vivid and detailed picture of his memories. Some were happy, some were sad, and some were downright hilarious. Robert was always full of life in retelling his past, even when he was going over the more somber parts of his life.

This continued throughout the week. By the end of the week, at the scheduled lunch hour, I hastily made my way toward Robert’s room. I creaked the door open and saw him sitting at the edge of his bed with a bewildered expression upon his face. He noticed me standing in the doorway and gestured me to come in. “There’s not enough time. Not enough time.” I saw an open notebook on the bed beside him and noticed what looked like estimates in very careful handwriting. “Ah boy, I did the math. I figure I don’t have much time left so I started to go on figurin’ how long it would take to listen to my records again. I just don’t have time boy. Even if I listened to all my records back to back staying up all night and day, I just won’t have time to listen to all my memories.” I studied his calculations and inwardly agreed as I placed my hand on his shoulder in a comforting manner. I stood there thinking of all the songs he had yet to listen to; each song with its packet of memory allowing him to relive with pure emotion, his loved ones and happier moments of his life. He was right. He did not have the time.

We stood there in silence for several minutes until Robert snapped us out of our contemplative state. “Ah the hell with it boy! I better get started! Pick one we haven’t listened to yet!” He began to tell a story, but with a disheartened tone.

He never brought it up again. Things continued on like that for about four months until Robert passed away peacefully in his sleep. The day we found him Robert had the Howlin’ Wolf record placed on his record player with the needle skipping from needing to be flipped to side two. My shaky hand lifted the needle and placed it unsteadily on a groove. (CLICK FOR CONTEXT) As “I’m Leavin’ You” started playing I picked up the casing of the album and noticed an extra added post-it labeled, first time I met my friend, Arthur.

The Searchers & Ride the High Country: Critical Review

What Makes a Man to Wander? The Transient’s Search for Redemption

            Towards the twilight stages of the mythic Western, several of the usual elements involved in it evolved and became much more complex. As the American audience changed, so too did the American storyteller. The grandiosity and epic nature of these latter myths that are revealed to us on screen portray a depth of issues that challenge its audience into analysis of our society and our deepest fundamental beliefs. Two films that reveal the rich complexities of the issues facing the US are The Searchers (John Ford, 1956) and Ride the High Country (Sam Peckinpah, 1962). Some significant issues that are explored in these films are morality, racism, reconciliation, and religion.

Familiar figures are presented to us like Ethan Edwards (John Wayne), Steve Judd (Joel McCrea), and Gil Westrum (Randolph Scott) , however there is something much more peculiar and opaque about these characters that audiences may find difficult to examine on the surface. With the characters having to deal with an outer conflict that is apparent, there is something ruminating deep within them; nothing that is verbally conveyed but can be delineated through the actions and emotional responses that these characters play out through the films. There is a constant inward struggle plaguing these characters. Oddly, they always seem to enter from and exit into the margins of society; appearing and disappearing into a vast landscape. I argue that these struggles are based on their inabilities to conform to the social constructs of subjective moral principles, and in analyzing this notion one may conclude that the distinction between right, wrong, good and evil is full of ambiguity and uncertainty. The mythic Western figure is doomed to fall into a life of transience and an endless search for redemption.

          In The Searchers, the idea of transience is presented to us at the start of the film, which is an important theme to this narrative. If we analyze it deeply it could provide some insight. First off, what is a transient? The dictionary definition is a person who inhabits a place for only a short period of time. As the opening title credits begin rolling it is accompanied by a song written and composed by Stan Jones and performed by The Songs of the Pioneers. The lyrics present intriguing questions that pertain to the struggles of an individual entering into and becoming a part of society;

What makes a man to wander?
What makes a man to roam?
What makes a man leave bed and board,
and turn his back on home?

Ride away,
Ride away,
Ride away

                             (Stan Jones, 1956)

The first scene of the film depicts the landscape from the inside of a dark cabin. The landscape is highly contrasted to the inner dwellings of the home. What can we make of this? Perhaps true answers are embedded within the vast landscape as opposed to being within the dark cabin which could represent society’s constructed answers to fundamental moral questions. The transient who is played by Ethan Edwards (Wayne) enters into the narrative from a mysterious and complex past.

           

 Similarly, in Ride the High Country Steve Judd enters into a town of unfamiliarity, full of modern buildings and technology. He traverses the town with a sort of naivety draped on his face while thinking he was being greeted by a cheering crowd. A police officer yells, “Get out of the way old man!” Steve is in a place where he and the audience know he does not belong. Steve is a shadow representing a past that is almost forgotten and unappreciated as revealed by the bankers where the deal to transport twenty thousand dollars worth of gold is made. The bankers tell Steve that they are not concerned about the past and want to focus on the present. This statement is not only felt by the bankers but can represent the feelings of the town and beyond to society in general. Steve represents the past and is unable to be understood by the community that surrounds him. As Michael Bliss, the author of Justified Lives: Morality and Narrative in the Films of Sam Peckinpah, states, “Given the way that the film approves of Steve’s morality and criticizes that of civilization, it seems more likely that it is the world that has lost touch with Steve.” (Bliss). Steve agrees to the deal of transporting gold, but there is something more at stake for Steve than being able to get a monetary reward. He is on a quest of reconciliation. This higher purpose drives his motivations for being able to live up to principles that are deeply personal and complex.

            Ethan Edwards also has a perception of the world that is personal and complex. At several instances in the film the audience is jolted by actions played out by Ethan that seem to surface from an embroiled and conflicted conscience. Soon after the massacre of Ethan’s family, the search for Lucy and Debbie begins. When the group of searchers happens upon a dead Comanche Ethan begins to shoot out the eyes of the corpse. He states that by shooting the eyes out the spirit will be cursed to eternally wander. Some insight on this scene is stated by Robert B. Pippin in his essay What is a Western? Politics and Self-Knowledge in John Ford’s The Searchers. Pippin suggests that “it manifests again the self-hatred theme, since the description of someone who must “wander forever between the winds” fits Ethan more than anyone.” (Pippin, 2009).

            Furthermore, it may be too simple to suggest that this reaction of Ethan’s is based on racial-hatred, but more on self-conflict and confusion. For example, the act of massacre on the helpless buffalo is another scene where Ethan’s hatred arises. He justifies this act by insinuating that if he systematically slaughters the herd, the Comanche will have nothing to eat and will starve. The sentiment, which may or may not have been incidental in the film, is a known fact in American history. The buffalo were nearly instinct with the encroachment of the land by white settlement. Shortly after, upon hearing the bugles of the army rangers, Ethan and Marty are introduced to a scene of the same type of systematic genocide inflicted on a Native tribe. Ethan’s reaction to this is not of joy but of deep sorrow. Finding Look murdered is testament to his dejected state, as he pulls the blanket over her face. Ethan’s anti-Indian racism gets only more ambiguous. Thus Ethan is doomed from the onset to be a transient. It is fitting that he is compared to a spirit, who cannot be seen and understood by society, is doomed to wander forever.

            Both films have religious subtext that is worth analyzing in the attempt to answer or rationalize the transience that plagues the characters. Christianity is used as a thematic tool, but it also is a tool to decipher between good and evil for the characters. Sometimes it could be subjective and shaped into a twisted perception of morality which is proven harmful. For example, in Ride, Peckinpah takes the audience to the Knudsen Farm where Gil, Steve and Heck are greeted by the religious Knudsen and his daughter Elsa. As soon as Elsa sees the men coming she darts into the house to change from her boyish clothing to feminine attire. This can suggest two possibilities; Firstly, Knudsen is attempting to disguise his daughter from the hungry eyes of men and secondly, Elsa chooses to wear men’s clothes to protect herself from her father because of an incestuous undertone that could be deciphered from the characteristics of their relationship.

            Knudsen is an appropriate character in analyzing, considering how religion is commented on in the film. At the surface he is very religious; however when the narrative goes deeper into his character the audience finds out just how deplorable and shocking his actual behavior really is. For example, after he catches Elsa meeting with Heck in secret he confronts her in their home where he strikes her. Immediately following he backs away into the darkness (which could symbolize his ignorance) and begins citing scripture. This scene is insightful in beginning to unfold the notions of how a person can be educated by the social constructs of religion, but can also be morally deficient. Steve is highly contrasted with Knudsen. Steve is not on a quest to change the world. He is on a quest of redemption. The intentions of Steve are pure and just, as opposed to Ethan who at many times in The Searchers acts out of violence and hatred. Yet both of these characters are searching for something profound in hopes of justifying themselves in society. The question is do they ever succeed?

            In both films Ethan and Steve are on a quest of redemption. While Steve’s morality is distinct, Ethan’s is uncertain. The acts of violence and dialogue expounding hate and racism, illustrates Ethan as possessing bad moral judgment, however at several instances this illustration comes into question. It seems that his self-hatred is projected onto others subtly. For example, after the scene where Ethan and Marty discover the massacred Native tribe, they make their way to the army camp in hopes to find Debbie. When they enter the camp they find that there are some white girls that were there, around the same age Debbie would be. Upon seeing these girls, Ethan and Marty find that they have completely dissimilated from being “white” and culturally assimilated into being Natives themselves. Failing to find Debbie they exit, but the camera focuses in on Ethan as he is exiting the door. His face is not that of disgust or racial hatred, but of an almost empathetic gesture to the plight of the young women. The complications and mysterious nature of Ethan only get more complex as the narrative progresses.

            Perhaps the answer to Ethan’s complexity is his actual search for Debbie and what he chooses to do once he found her. When he discovers of Scar’s whereabouts, his initial confrontation with Scar provides much of our understanding of Ethan than what was formerly revealed to the audience. As he is greeted by Scar (a blue eyed and indistinct character much like Ethan) they both discover that they understand each other more than they previously believed. Ethan “speaks pretty good Comanche” and Scar “speaks pretty good American.” Upon entering Scar’s tent, Ethan and Marty are introduced to his wives and discover Debbie to be one of them. It would seem that it is Ethan’s great fear to have his only niece to be a Comanche. Afterwards he nearly murders Debbie in yet another jolt to the audience’s conception of Ethan’s moral judgment.

            At the final battle scene and climax of the film, Ethan, Marty and the other deputies find that Scar’s tribe is camped near town. Marty firmly believes that Ethan will murder Debbie if he got the chance so he offers to infiltrate the camp to retrieve Debbie safely. As Ethan and the deputies start to invade, Ethan in his last violent act of the film discovers a dead Scar, yet scalps him anyway. This sensationalist act could be seen as a way of concluding revenge on Scar in the only way Ethan knows, which is violent. At the critical moment of the film, Ethan chases Debbie down. At first it may seem like he is going to trample her but in redemptive fashion chooses to spare and accept her. As Robert B. Pippin mentions in his essay, “he (Ethan) is like Huck Finn, who feels guilty for not turning in Jim even though he sincerely believes Jim is stolen property and that he is morally obligated to return him.” With this connection, the distinction between socially constructed views of moral right and wrong are unclear, and even though Ethan might feel the need to enact his “racist principles” by killing Debbie, he cannot. For what he felt in his heart overcame his moral, social, and racial education.

            This moral tension is also seen within the framework of Ride the High Country. Gil is situated as a counter weight to Steve’s moral quest. His ambitions are too take what he thought life full of bitterness and failures owed to him. Gil attempts to corrupt Steve but fails time and again. Gil fails to see Steve’s convictions as being at a much higher principle. It is also the failings of Knudsen, and the people of Course Gold to clearly see what Steve stands for. It is something much more than gold, woman, or booze. It is a self- justification and redemption narrative. One that is completely personal. As Steve states, “I just want to enter into my house justified.” The final scene in Ride is heroic and tragic. Steve and Gil redeem their friendship with one last stand against Billy and his two remaining brothers. At the end of the gun fight Steve is mortally wounded and wishes not to be seen in death. His wish is to be remembered as he lived his last days; a redeemed hero of the highest moral principles.

            The denouement and final scenes of The Searchers and Ride the High Country both provide provocative conclusions of the characters Ethan and Steve. Ethan fades back into the landscape much like he entered. The view from inside the home looks out on Ethan as he disappears. He still is not able or willing to rejoin society and will most likely continue his journey into transience to attain something that is inexplicable. The ending in Ride gives a more distinct conclusion to Steve. His death is both incredibly heroic and tragic. The mythic Western figure that Steve represents is only carried on by Gil, who is apparently near death too, as he states during Steve’s final minutes, “I’ll see you soon.” The tragedy is that Steve and Ethan and the myth that embodies them is a forgotten one; left in the margins where society fails to acknowledge.

Works Cited

Bliss, M. (1993). Riding High on Morality. In M. Bliss, Justified (pp. 33-57). Chicago: Illinois University Press.

Ford, J. (Director). (1956). The Searchers [Motion Picture].

Peckinpah, S. (Director). (1962). Ride the High Country [Motion Picture].

Pippin, R. B. (2009). What is a Western? Politics and Self Knowledge in John Ford's The Searchers. Critical Inquiry, 223-246.

Marilynne Robinson's Housekeeping: Critical Review

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Redemption through Memory: Analyzing Narration in Robinson’s Housekeeping

                  Housekeeping by Marilynne Robinson deals with many issues that are deeply personal and complex. The issues that seem to plague the main characters of the novel are loneliness, depression, and an inability to connect with the outside world. Motifs such as ghosts, apparitions, transience and reflections coincide with how the narrative develops these issues into a comprehensible understanding. Tragic and sudden loss surrounding the lives of Lucille and especially Ruthie are not an uncommon experience, as it is one that the whole of society can relate with. Coping with tragic loss can be an inexplicable journey, yet throughout the narrative the puzzlement of loss is slowly and carefully pieced together to the extent that the narrator and the reader can come to terms with it and have a clearer understanding of what the novel intends to convey. The narration by Ruthie is framed from memory which is a significant notion tied to the experiences of loss. In being able to retell the entirety of her past from both real and fabricated memories, Ruthie will finally be able to move on from grief and begin to forgive her troubled past.

            In attempting to analyze why the novel is situated in Ruthie’s memory and how it will eventually reconcile her, it is important to first understand Ruthie’s characteristics portrayed in it. One of her stronger traits that begin to come to the surface of her character as she grows up is transience. Transience is a major thematic element in the text. A transient is one who only occupies a space for a short period of time. In the text it is shown to be a mental space as well as a physical one. The mentality of a transient is an inability to connect with the realities that surround them. As a child Ruthie is never really mentally conscious to the events that happen around her. She partakes in them, but is unable to project her true emotions (at least verbally) at the moment, as revealed in Chapter 6, “You’re so quiet. It’s hard to know what you think.” Sylvie stood up and we began to walk home. “I suppose I don’t know what to think.” (Robinson 105)

             Ruthie is a follower. First she follows Lucille in search of the town’s acceptance then Sylvie into the life of a transient. This combined with her wish to not be seen by the outside world will further decline her into a state of loneliness and perplexity. Ruthie’s experiences have inflicted her with pain that is incomprehensible as a child. In effect she struggles with wanting to succumb to oblivion and be a mere shadow. It is interesting to see that transience does not affect Lucille who went through much of the same experiences Ruthie did. But this question is soon answered. As they begin to grow and enter their later adolescence, they begin drifting apart. This is highlighted in Chapter 7. The marker of change in the sisters’ relationship begins to arise;

            
Sometimes we would try to remember our mother, though more and more we disagreed and   even quarreled about what she had been like. Lucille’s mother was orderly, vigorous, and sensible, a widow (more than I ever knew or she could prove) who was killed in an accident. My mother presided over a life so strictly simple and circumscribed that it could not have made any significant demands on her attention. She tended us with a gentle indifference that made me feel she would have liked to have been more alone – she was the abandoner, and not the one abandoned. (Robinson, 109)

Memories of both sisters are different which is significant. Lucille has chosen a memory of their mother that is positive while Ruthie’s memory illustrates a negative picture. This is evident as Lucille will begin to yearn for acceptance from the town and become more involved in contemporary fashions and building friendships outside the home. Ruthie’s personal memory of her mother is a reflection of herself. There is a void in Ruthie that passionately needs to be filled. She eventually chooses Sylvie to fill that void.

            The pivotal moment of Lucille and Ruthie’s separation takes place when they set out to the woods and spent the night there. They begin to construct a house made of driftwood and stone slabs. The house they build is flimsy and the roof falls twice before it gains any stability. It seems they are subconsciously playing out a scene that has a very similar quality to the woman they attempted to build from snow earlier in the novel. The woman they tried to build also would fall apart. There is some significance to notice that any structure they build together fails to become whole. What can the reader make of this? It could signify their attempts on filling in voids that they so desire. As they nestle into their house they are surrounded by darkness. Again Lucille and Ruthie have different memories of this moment as Ruthie claims, “Lucille would tell this story differently.” Ruthie’s version of this memory is cynical and is inspired by the complete darkness that envelops her; “Darkness is the only solvent. While it was dark…it seemed to me that there need not be relic, remnant, margin, residue, memento, bequest, memory, thought, track, or trace, if only darkness could be perfect and permanent;” Thus signifying Ruthie’s desire for oblivion. It seems here that Ruthie is plagued by memory and finds insight in the complete dark. She finds solace in it and a type of peace that can never be achieved in light with eyes gazed upon her. When Lucille and Ruthie find their way back home the next morning, Ruthie contemplates, “I knew that my decay, now obvious and accelerating, should somehow be concealed for decency’s sake.” (Robinson 119). Ruthie realizes that if she sinks into a visible state of depression it might further separate her from Lucille and also build a larger barrier to the outside world.

            After this moment of realization, Ruthie starts to become much more isolated. Her relationship with her sister is at an awkward stage of revulsion. They cease to communicate. However, this catalyzes more of a bond with Sylvie. The episode in Chapter 8 reveals a push toward insight and familial discovery. In an urgent manner, Sylvie wakes Ruthie in the early morning telling her of a surprise. They make their way to a boat where they set off towards a place where Sylvie would secretly go and search for lost children. The scene reveals an eloquent and insightful rumination by Ruthie;

             
If there had been snow I would have made a statue, a woman to stand along the path, among the trees. The children would have come close, to look at her. Lot’s wife was salt and barren, because she was full of loss and mourning, and looked back. But here rare flowers would gleam in her hair, and on her breast, and in her hands, and there would be children all around her, to love and marvel at her for her beauty, and to laugh at the extravagant adornments, as if they had set the flowers in her hair and thrown down all the flowers at her feet, and they would forgive her, eagerly and lavishly, for turning   away, though she never asked to be forgiven (Robinson 153).

This lengthy passage offers a glimmer of Ruthie’s longing to connect with the outside world. This is a facet of some sort of redemptive memory she brings to her conscience. Again the reader is introduced to the statue symbol Ruthie repeatedly brings up. The emphasis on it could symbolize her mother. Furthermore, the Biblical reference to Lot’s wife is provocative. Notably, it is Ruthie (or Robinson) that comes up with the idea that Lot’s wife was full of loss and mourning. It does not mention as to why Lot’s wife looked back in the Bible, but could provide further evidence of the idea that one can project an idea or a memory to help delineate or console one’s conflicted past. The earlier scene in darkness and the wish for oblivion seems to be quelled by this memory and sets Ruthie on a path of forgiveness and reconciliation.

            The episode in Chapter 9 will set off events that will unintentionally secure the bond between Ruthie and Sylvie. When the townspeople of Fingerbone become overly concerned about Ruthie becoming a transient, they intervene and enter into the personal lives of Sylvie and Ruthie. It is not because they share an empathetic concern with Ruthie’s well being, but are more guilt-ridden in witnessing Ruthie’s transformation. Their religious and moral duties enact them to invade Ruthie’s life.  It makes them uncomfortable because it fills them with pity brought on by their definition of a good moral Christian. Furthermore, Ruthie explains, “So the transients wandered through Fingerbone like ghosts, terrifying as ghosts are because they were not very different from us. And so it was important to the town to believe I was rescued, and that rescue was possible.” (Robinson 178). It was an impossibility to see Ruthie fall victim to a life of transience. Upon numerous visits to their household, the neighbors notice a scene of hoarding and un-cleanliness. We begin to see Sylvie’s desire to keep Ruthie as she states the importance of family to stay together; “Families should stay together,” Sylvie said. “They should. There is no other help” (Robinson 186). Unfortunately they fail to convince their neighbors that Ruthie should stay in the care of Sylvie, in which case there will be a hearing to decide their fate. The thought of another separation conjures up in Ruthie an insightful and eloquent message of memory and loss forthcoming in the remainder of the narrative.

            The next chapter reveals Ruthie’s unwillingness to be separated through the retelling of Creation developed by family breakup. Mourning and loss is played out in history and in an eloquent rationalization Ruthie connects it with memory; “Memory is the sense of loss and loss pulls us after it” (Robinson 194). Moreover, once one loses someone, their memory becomes more real than when they were actually physically present. Helen’s disconnect with her children is evident of this notion. Earlier in the narrative Ruthie explains that the memory of her mother is characterized by her indifference which is a reflection on herself as well as Sylvie. More evidence of this comes from Ruthie’s observance of Sylvie in connection with this notion;

             
Sylvie did not want to lose me. She did not want me to grow gigantic and multiple, so that I seemed to fill the whole house, and she did not wish me to turn subtle and miscible, so that I could pass through membranes that separate dream from dream…She much preferred my simple, ordinary presence, silent and ungainly though I might be (Robinson 195).

At this point in the novel Ruthie and Sylvie become inseparable. The mutually need each other, for if they suffer yet another lose that can doom them back into darkness and oblivion. However the question remains; Does Ruthie ever come to a point of reconciliation? The answer could be seen in the bridge.

            After Sylvie and Ruthie come to a point where they can no longer convince their neighbors that they should not be separated, they decide to burn their house down and begin a life of wandering. As they start to cross the bridge something ruminates deep inside Ruthie’s narrative voice and beckons back to a memory that fulfills her with a redemptive image of her mother. The noises and slow movement provided a moment of clarity and demystified the memory of her mother’s indifference that haunted her. She recalls a scene of a park where her mother used to take her. The memory is full of nostalgia and Ruthie concludes, “My mother was happy that day, we did not know why.” (Robinson 213) Even though Ruthie and Sylvie may have been always destined to wander, there is an apparent reconciliation that happens within Ruthie. Their banishment from Fingerbone is not because they willed it to happen in order to wander aimlessly into oblivion. It was because if they stayed the family would be fragmented conclusively. Their housekeeping is not ended with the burning down of the house. However it should signify their willingness to continue on with the housekeeping, by keeping a sense of their family intact.

Works Cited

Robinson, Marilynne. Housekeeping. New York: Picador, 1980.

Visionaries and the Inheritors

I. Introduction

Understanding the Western genre seems simple. Like films of other genres, features of Westerns occasionally follow a formula that seasoned audiences can predict. The Western is more or less about an era of exploration and development in the United States. Furthermore there is a character or emblematic Western figure that stands tall, possesses great strength, and is quick with a revolver. This figure is also sometimes accompanied by one, two, or even a group of men at his side that faithfully follow his word as law. However presupposing that Western film is merely formulaic and simple does not do this genre justice. There are many complex devices used to convey much deeper meaning that portray the beginnings of the American West.



II. Introduction to Central Argument

In Red River (Howard Hawks, 1948) Tom Dunson, played by John Wayne, is a hovering man with ambition, tenacity, strength and an unwavering work ethic. His qualities can be compared to a Benjamin Franklin type of American; a hard working, self-made man. He is accompanied by a loyal and somewhat of a clownish character, Nadine Groot and an adopted son named Matthew Garth. In juxtaposition, a character in The Man from Laramie (Anthony Mann, 1955) who can be easily compared to Tom Dunson is Alec Waggoman. Waggoman has built his Barb Ranch from the ground up just as Dunson did (beginning with just one bull and one cow). They both have severe ambition that becomes overwhelmingly authoritative. As the two narratives progress one can say that they begin to lose sight (in Alec’s case it is quite literal) and degenerate the loyalty of their men and disenchantment of their dream. But maybe the most significant similar quality of these two Western figures is their relationship they have with their sons. Tom Dunson and Alec Waggoman both have a strong desire to carry on their legacies by passing them onto an heir which adds to the conflict in both narratives. Vic and Matt also imbibe similar characteristics, especially in their interactions with their father figures. There are strong yet subtle parallels and contrasts that one can draw between the fathers and sons of both films, each possessing characteristics that instigate the ambiguity between good, evil, society, and law. The same characteristics that instigate this ambiguity can also draw upon some intriguing answers in a profound American sense. Perhaps in the uncertainty between friend, foe, father and son, Red River and The Man from Laramie suggests that the promises of a new frontier, new land, and a legacy built from the ground up can result in an endless search for the visionary’s dream.


III. Tom Dunson and Alec Waggoman: Visionaries  

In analyzing Tom Dunson and Alec Waggoman as father figures, there strikes a resemblance to a type of American that almost seems mythic in modern times. Historically, the US patriarchal sentiment was ubiquitous. Americans honor their founding fathers by naming states and cities after them, illustrating them on currency, and building epic monuments in their honor. Like the legacies of the founding fathers, Dunson and Waggoman have branched out towards the West and built something of their own from the ground up. Dunson, with just one bull and cow, grew a vast herd with thousands of head of cattle. Likewise, Alec Waggoman has spent his entire life building up his Barb Ranch. Unlike The Man from Laramie that begins in media res, Red River offers the audience the beginnings of Dunson’s dream;

"Ten years and I’ll have the Red River D on more cattle than you’ve looked at anywhere. I’ll have that brand on enough beef to feed the whole country. Good beef for hungry people. Beef to make em’ strong. To make em’ grow. But it takes work, it takes sweat, it takes time, lots of time. It takes years."

There is a strong sense of optimism in Dunson’s tone. As the audience hears his speech, images of Dunson’s dream transitions in and beholds a promising future for his legacy. As the fourteen long years pass the audience sees a grown-up and experienced Matt, an older and wiser Groot, and an embittered Dunson. The market has no demand for beef and Dunson’s vision came to an end. This is a significant portrait of the American dream; a story of optimism, promise, gain and loss. The American dream has given much optimism to one who partakes so ambitiously in her promises, but nothing prepares this individual for failure.

In The Man from Laramie, Lockhart enters the town of Coronado and is greeted by a deep and complex structure full of tension and mystery. He and the audience soon find out the order of things and the social politics that govern it. It is apparent that Alec Waggoman runs things in Coronado. Yet there is a sense of imbalance, especially in Alec Waggoman. If the film began with a young Alec in his prime where the audience could see him building up his ranch, one would most likely confront a character full of promise, confidence, and a clear vision. Yet the audience is greeted by an old and decadent character that is going blind. He states, “I own a hundred thousand acres yet cannot see ten of them.” The loss of his vision is both in his eyes and his dream. The gradual blindness of Alec can act as a symbol of disillusionment and adds to the ambiguity of the narrative.

With his ranch established, it would seem that Alec’s dream of building up a legacy has come into fruition. But there is a sense of unsettledness, probably owing to the fact that his heir to his legacy is an incompetent and spoiled brat. When Alec reveals his inevitable blindness to Vic he speaks with candor which sets off a string of events that leads to Dave’s untimely death;

Alec: I’ve been pretty hard on you Vic. Maybe a little harder than you deserve. Maybe I’m a little jealous because you’re not my son too. Take care of my boy. Love him like a brother, and I’ll love you like a son.
Vic: Alright… Pa.

This dialogue between Alec and Vic is intriguing. Much like the relationship between Matt and Dunson, there is genuine love between unrelated kin. The bond that is formed is legitimate as if they were related by blood, but will soon be betrayed by Vic. Alec is full of uncertainty and the truth is not revealed to him until the end when his physical blindness completely takes over. The truth being that now his legacy will not be carried on with Dave and Vic both dead.

IV. Vic and Matthew Garth: “Inheritors”

Vic, not in blood relation to Alec Waggoman, is much more fitted to be Alec’s son because of his ambition and strength. During the film, the audience finds out that Vic is behind the selling of the repeating rifles to the Apache which got Lockhart’s brother killed. In trying to cover up this deed along with his ambition in one day inheriting the ranch along with Dave, more evils occur that are willed upon Vic. There is something much more distorted in just painting Vic as a villain because of the misdeeds that happen at his hands. Vic has many of the same characteristics Tom Dunson has. He is ambitious and worked years at the Barb. Consider the scene where Barbara attempts to convince Vic they should just leave Coronado and start a new life;

Barbara: This is no place for us Vic. I want to leave and I want you to leave with me.
Vic: Where can we go?!
Barbara: Anywhere.
Vic: That’s the same as nowhere! Look Barbara, we’ve been all over this before. Here in Coronado we’ve got something, if we leave we’re a couple of nobodies.
Barbara: You keep saying we got nothing if we leave. If we love each other doesn’t that mean anything?
Vic: I love you Barbara you know that, but I worked my whole life for the Barb. I got years of sweat and blood soaked in that ground and I’m not giving up what’s rightfully mine.

The pouring of sweat and blood in the Barb is reminiscent of Dunson’s speech, when he says “it takes sweat, it takes time.” The vision is clear of what Vic wants and he will do anything to get what is rightfully his.

Matthew Garth is situated somewhat similar to Vic, as they are both not in blood relation to their father figures. They both stand and expect to inherit a legacy which they assisted in building. They both have a stake in it and are willing to go against their fathers in order to achieve it. With Matt, the audience sees a strong and perseverant man, but of delicate charisma. Wherever he goes people tend to like and follow him. Unlike Dunson who forces his will onto his comrades, Matt works with people and yields much more freedom. This overwhelming will of Dunson soon turns into madness which prompted Matt to turn on him and take over his cattle drive. Dunson’s haunting words “I’m going to kill you” manifested into the ears and heart of Matt that plague the cattle drive up to Abilene. Driven by fear and hope, Matt traverses the landscape always looking over his shoulder. The sudden shift from love to hatred projected by Dunson comes at somewhat of a shock, but it is soon realized that Dunson’s hatred and urge to kill Matt seems false in his confrontation with Tess;

Tess: Why do you want to kill him?
Dunson: Because he’s a theif.
Tess: You think he thinks that?
Dunson: He should! I picked him up in the brush fourteen years ago leading a cow. He saw what I was planning, saw what I was building. He knew someday it will all be his. His land, his cattle, the whole thing. He even talked of a woman. A strong woman who will bear him sons. A woman like you.
Tess: Why did you want him to have a son?
Dunson: Because I built something. Build it with my own hands and I can’t live forever. Can’t live to see it grow. I thought I had a son, now I haven’t and I want one.

The last words in this dialogue are of significance towards the central theme of the film. It is what drives Dunson. Everything he has and built would need to be continued after he is gone. When he dies, his legacy would die with him without a son.

There is also a strangeness of the proposal to Tess about bearing a son for him in trade for half of everything he owns. It is almost as if he is treating her like one of his cattle, to breed him a son.  

V: Women’s Roles interlaced in Father/Son Element

The treatment of women and the lack of mothers in the central narrative of these films deserve some analysis. In context of when these films were made, the roles of men and women were clearly defined in social and private spheres. Considering this, and the Western cementing its place in popular culture perhaps it is not surprising, however as Robert B. Pippin suggests in his essay, Red River and the Right to Rule, there is a supposed “impossibility of women in this new world.” (Pippin 33)  Dunson leaves Fen for Texas to start on his vision and Matt leaves Tess to finish the drive to Abilene even though both of these women are strong and independent, it is impossible for them to participate in these legacy building narratives. For Dunson, the plan to build his legacy without a woman seems a bit complicated, however Pippin again argues a valid point, “As we shall see in other contexts, the issue being joined here is not sexual politics but the politics of founding and the idea of self generated (and so entitled) mini-empire.”(Pippin 35) Moreover, Dunson’s ambition is far too great to settle down and betroth to a woman. His vision does not account romance, only to build his legacy on his own.

VI: Conclusion

In Red River there is some suggestion brought up by Cherry Valance that Matt is too soft and feminine, which might get him killed. These qualities hold true, yet enable him to successfully lead a group of tired out men and thousands of cattle for days into Abilene and to stand up to Dunson earning his “M” next to the Red River D. The resolution at the end gives way to a sense of order from the chaos of Dunson’s cattle drive. Furthermore, in The Man from Laramie, Lockhart leaves Cornoado, a town that finds peace and order in dénouement.  However, there is something uncanny about both endings. There is more order, yet things seem unfinished. In one film, there was a happier ending, where Dunson and Matt forgave each other and in the other Alec Waggoman lost his sons yet reunited with his first love, Kate. What one may take from both these endings could be laid out in reflecting upon the American West. Hordes of men just like Tom Dunson and Alec Waggoman went searching for a vision. They envisioned prosperity, but did they find what they were looking for? There is something that will always be provocative that searching for one’s vision and the promise of achieving it seems to always be undone and ambiguous.



Works Cited

The Man from Laramie. Directed by Anthony Mann. Performed by Arthur Kennedy, Donald Crisp, James Stewart. 1955.
Red River. Directed by Howard Hawks. Performed by Joanne Dru, John Wayne. 1948.
Pippin, Robert B. "Red River and the Right to Rule." Hollywood Westerns: American Myth 26-58.

Roald Dahl & Dr. Seuss: Educating Through Nonsensical Conventions

Introduction

As a child I had a fascination with books. When I visited the local library, the children’s section was always a special place for my imagination to run wild. Dr. Seuss books were always very special to me. The illustrations, the wild creatures, and interesting stories were a delight. Another author that also had the same effect was Roald Dahl. Dahl once said;

I have a passion for teaching kids to become readers, to become comfortable with a book, not daunted. Books shouldn't be daunting, they should be funny, exciting and wonderful; and learning to be a reader gives a terrific advantage. (Dahl)

There are intrinsic emotions when I go back and reread these authors. Contemplating the connections between them and how they taught me to develop my understanding of the English language and the world around me, some questions come to fruition. How can they get children to gravitate towards their works in such distinctive ways?

Nonsense, a device employed by both authors, contributes to subliminal learning permeating a child’s mind. In looking at the works The Big Friendly Giant, by Roald Dahl and some selected works such as, The Cat in the Hat and Horton Hears a Who by Dr. Seuss, one can see how their nonsense language and stories are used for a child’s development, enrichment of the English language and the understanding of the world around them. In this essay, I propose that Dr. Seuss and Roald Dahl, through the utilization of Nonsense, construct nonsensical characters and worlds, not to confuse but to teach and enlighten both children and adults about the moral aspects and possibilities of life, language, and learning.

I. Nonsense as a Literary Genre

The term nonsense is a bit confusing. Literary nonsense is not non-sense at all really. However, true non-sense as defined by the Oxford English Dictionary is “spoken or written words that have no meaning or make no sense.” (Oxford Dictionary of English) Furthermore, it is simply indiscriminate clamor; a tedious flow of information that holds no importance or meaning, like listening and watching static from a television channel containing no images. Dr. Seuss took literary nonsense to its apex. Dr. Seuss once said; 

I like nonsense; it wakes up the brain cells. Fantasy is a necessary ingredient in living It's a way of looking at life through the wrong end of a telescope. Which is what I do, And that enables you to laugh at life's realities. (Seuss).

 His stories, containing a visual and fantastical world becomes somewhat rational within his narratives. A sort of consistent madness is seen in his stories. Seuss never wavers from his creations. If he creates a three headed person living in his home, he stays within the contextual frame of his story, where there would be three of everything. While there may be no Cats with hats and no Whos, if you can defer your uncertainty about those things, the story of Cat in the Hat and Horton Hears a Who will appear as sound as any other tale. 

Roald Dahl employs similar characteristics pertaining to the literary nonsense genre. In his work The Big Friendly Giant, or BFG for short, he creates a whole list of nonsense words called Gobblefunk;

As he was writing The BFG in the early-1980s, author Roald Dahl set about creating a new vocabulary for the story's enormous protagonist — a 238-word language that he ultimately named, "Gobblefunk." Words that made the cut included, "humplecrimp," "swallomp," "crumpscoddle," and, most memorably, "snozzcumber." (Usher 2012)

The reasons Gobblefunk was created is because it is useful in supporting the characteristics of the nonsensical worlds Dahl constructs in his stories. For those unfamiliar with the story of The BFG, it is about a young girl named Sophie who gets snatched up by a giant (The BFG) and taken to his home in Giant Country. The reader finds out that the BFG is the only good and benevolent giant in the world. He collects good dreams, where he later redistributes to children. When he comes across a nightmare he destroys it or uses it to start fights with the other giants. The other giants are ravenous and occasionally enter the human world to eat up “human beans,” especially children. Because the BFG refuses to involve himself in this, he ends up being a vegetarian where he survives on snozzcumbers (inspired by cucumbers), a fizzy drink called frobscottle with bubbles that travel downwards, which incidentally causes the drinker to break wind instead of burp, where passing gas is referred to as Whizzpoppers;

A whizzpopper!” cried the BFG, beaming at her. “Us giants is making whizzpoppers all the time! Whizzpopping is a sign of happiness. It is music in our ears! You surely is not telling me that a little whizzpopping if forbidden among human beans? (Dahl)

Humorously written, The BFG also offers a darker subtext. Characteristically for Dahl, one of the themes of the work is fighting against a greater foe using one’s intelligence and development. Sophie who is in command because of her wits and courage, and the adult figure, the BFG, carries out her imaginative plans. The same pattern, the friendship and collaboration of an intelligent child and a kind and gentle adult is recurrent in several of Dahls’s works. 

The narrow-mindedness and utter stupidity of adults are considered from the perspective of a giant and a child, and the actions of adults are seen in a humorous way. The only good adult is the Queen of England, who efficiently organizes the mission to capture the man-eating giants, and turns out to be a wise and warm person. Dahl creates a strong contrast between children and adults, where it is usually the children who come out on top. In his books, children are repeatedly left on their own to survive in the malicious world of callous and insensitive adults.

Nonsense literature adds a favorable twist: it promotes children to reflect on the natural world not as it is, but as it possibly can be.  Nonsense educates children the constructive mental tendency of not ruling anything out. Once a child had accepted the idea of a talking cat in a hat, an elephant that firmly believes in the existence of a microscopic society, and where a big and friendly giant helps children receive good dreams, they have taken a short step towards steering away from the development of a narrowing mind as we all may undergo as we reach adulthood.

II. Lessons Conveyed in Literature

Shifting focus back on Dr. Seuss, one can take away the same type of moral lessons that The BFG conveys. In Horton Hears a Who!, for example, Horton is an elephant with a good heart and sensitive ears who discovers the microscopic people, the Whos, on a fleck of dust when the inhabitants call out for help. He chooses to help and guard the Whos, but is ostracized from his community because they think he is insane. One of the more well known phrases from this story is, “a person is a person no matter how small,” (Seuss) which sends a clearly defined moral point to children readers. The tale, even though taking place in a world full of chatting animals, is about intangible ideologies such as open-mindedness in believing in something that you cannot see with your eyes, duty in protecting your beliefs, unkindness and distrust by others in making fun of what one may believe in, are all very relatable. 

The Cat in the Hat, being one of the more popular and well known of Dr. Seuss’ tales, is a story that is full of moral ideals and political significance. Dr. Seuss wrote this story keeping a child in mind, even though there are some heavy elements embedded within. As The Cat in the Hat begins, the first thing the reader learns is that the children are home alone. With the knowledge of being by themselves they have the notion that they may do as they please;

I sat there with Sally.

We sat there, we two.

And I said, “How I wish we had something to do!?”

Too wet to go out

And too cold to play ball.

So we sat in the house.

We did nothing at all. (Seuss 121)

Pondering how two small children, left alone in on a rainy day with nothing to do, can make one realize the temptations that will soon confront them. One of the several good things about Dr. Seuss is his ability to make you aware of a social problem in an entertaining fashion. Hence walks in the cat in the hat promising fun and many good activities. As he puts it, “I will show them to you, your mother will not mind at all if I do.” (Seuss 124) Dr. Seuss uses a goldfish to open up the mind of the reader. There are many temptations out in the world waiting to show children several things that are not good for them. One wonders how many times the youth of today are startled when a parent is informed about something that they should not be engaged in. Certainly, the percentage is greater now than ever before concerning children engaging themselves in the wrong activity because of a lack of adult supervision. 

It is when the fish is introduced that the reader can start to understand the moral implications behind the cat in the hat. “No! No!. Make that cat go away!” (Seuss 125)  The fish exclaims. The reader instantly realizes the voice of reason is through a tiny fish that is almost always dismissed. All while the cat in the hat continues to tempt the children in doing the things he knows their mother would not approve. The goldfish in the background continues to shout, “No, tell him to stop.” (Seuss 127) It is a wonder how Dr. Seuss understands the temptations most kids face when alone. 

In the same way Dr. Seuss configures his Cat in the Hat lore to his readers, Dahl typically in his stories uses a recurring theme about fighting someone superior, usually an adult figure. However, it may be difficult to pick out in the same breath, the motive for educating moral lessons to children. The BFG acts as a highly entertaining piece of wit and humor. In a sense, it is a typical fairy-tale drawing a distinct and clearly defined line between good and evil, where the heroes are grounded in goodness and righteousness, and the villains are on the opposite pole. 

III. Illustrations to Maintain the Context and World of Nonsense

Viewing the illustrations of Dr. Seuss and Roald Dahl, one can get a sense of nonsense in a more visual way. The depictions of people and animals are nothing close to anatomical likeness of anything real in the world. Even though many of Dr. Seuss’ characters are soft, fluffy, and at times adorable looking, they seem to have no skeletal structure. His material items seem to have a somewhat shaky connection with their environment. Plates and fish bowls poise in fifteen foot tall heaps, each piece wobbling out of place, the whole construction waiting for it to fall and break to pieces. Yet within each story, this madness is rational and unswerving, and never deceives its fictional context. Real world applications and physics may not by the number one attributable quality in these tales, but the tenets of Seuss physics do not waver.

As with Seuss, Roald Dahl implements nonsensical illustrations to further his message and convince his audience of what he is trying to convey through his tales. The BFG is a giant illustrated with large ears to hear far away dreams in hopes of catching them. It is of presupposition that one might think a giant to be some sort of monster; however his countenance is that of innocence and niceness. The illustrations by both works of Dr. Seuss and Dahl are not the best in portraying aesthetic conventions of what an adult might look for, but rather go much deeper in supporting their contextual worlds. As stated earlier, the most important quality of these stories are to maintain believability in the reader. A child must believe in a world that might not make sense in their reality and in doing so might be able to open their mind up to a host of other possibilities.

IV. Final Thoughts

Dahl’s and Seuss’s tales give rise to their own ideas perpetuating in them a state of authentic belief. Children readers will begin to genuinely believe that worlds that inhabit a race of beings living on a speck of dust, a cat in a hat that has with him “Things” that wreak havoc and cause trouble, and a world of giants that feed on human beans. In actively believing such tales could exist, the moral implications are also believed. Instead of a dull and weary world that adult stories sometimes convey, nonsensical stories will open up the mind and possibilities of children readers. The popularity of Dr. Seuss and Roald Dahl is not so surprising in that they make the most impossible things possible. The capacity to think sensibly about nonsense can transform the way, not only children, but all of us identify with the world. 

Works Cited

Dahl, Roald. Good Reads. 2012. http://www.goodreads.com/quotes/show/79884 (accessed 2012).

—. The BFG. London: Johnathan Cape, 1982.

Oxford. Oxford Dicctionary. 2012. http://oxforddictionaries.com/definition/nonsense?region=us&q=nonsense.

Seuss, Dr. The Quotations Page. http://www.quotationspage.com/quote/32247.html (accessed 2012).

—. Your Favorite Seuss. Toronto: Random House, 2004.

Usher, Shaun. Lists of Note. February 2012. http://www.listsofnote.com/2012/02/gobblefunk.html (accessed 2012).