Lunes, Enero 28, 2013

(TERRITORIALISM) My Kingdom

THEORY
TERRITORIALISM
-It discusses how an individual tries to protect his/ her possessions.
-It is creating a specific boundaries or markers on certain things.

TITLE
MY KINGDOM


SYNOPSIS
In the closing days of the 19th century, the Prince Regent of the crumbling Qing Dynasty orders the mass execution of the entire Meng clan. Before his beheading in a crowded Beijing marketplace, the Meng clan leader vows that his family will avenge this travesty of justice. Awaiting his death, a five-year-old Meng boy named Erkui bravely sings an aria. The power and purity of his voice touches the onlookers including opera star Master Yu Shengying and his seven-year-old pupil Guan Yilong. Deeply moved, Master Yu rescues the boy and the two orphans, Yilong and Erkui, become brothers. Years later, Master Yu wins the coveted golden "Wu Sheng Tai Dou" (“The Mightiest Warrior”) plaque from the Prince Regent, but subsequently loses it in a duel with his archrival Master Yue Jiangtian. Banished from the stage upon his loss, Master Yu spends his time training Yilong and Erkui in Peking Opera and martial arts, perfecting their skills. When the boys grow into men, they set off for Shanghai to pursue revenge and reclaim the plaque from Master Yue. Once they reach Shanghai, they quickly defeat Master Yue, reclaiming not only the plaque but also becoming the new masters of Yue’s opera troupe. Almost overnight, they become sensations of the Shanghai opera scene along with Master Yue’s protégé and former lover, the beautiful actress Xi Mulan. But soon, their collective pasts catch up with them and all three ends up in a complex web of love, lust, deceit and betrayal, ultimately ending in tragedy.


ANALYSIS
Actually, the story of My Kingdom has many themes and there are also many theory of literary criticism that can be seen here. I chose to focus on Territorialism. 
It all began when the Prince Regent gave the “The Mightiest Warrior” golden plaque to Master Yu. Master Yue, then, challenged him that whoever will win shall take the golden plaque and whoever will lose shall not perform on stage anymore. In the end, Master Yue won and took the golden plaque as he went back to Shanghai. 
Upon the completion of Er Kui and Yi Long's training, they made their mission to avenge for their master. They went to Shanghai and did all they can, with all their might to get back the golden plaque of  "The Mightiest Warrior".
That part of the story can define what Territorialism is all about.

(STRUCTURALISM) Little Red Riding Hood

THEORY
STRUCTURALISM
-It interpret a text or part of a text by taking its language apart(study word derivations, sentence syntax, etc.
-Its meaning resides in the structure of language, not in art nor in the reader's mind.


TITLE
LITTLE RED RIDING HOOD


SYNOPSIS
Little Red Riding Hood was, originally, an old French fairy tale about a young girl who meets a Big Bad Wolf in the forest.
The story revolves around a young girl named Little Red Riding Hood, after the red hooded cloak or cape she always wears. The girl walks through the woods to deliver food to her grandmother, who was ill. There, a big bad wolf appears and asks Little Red Riding Hood where she is going, and she naïvely tells him. The wolf suggests she should pick some flowers, which she does. Meanwhile, he goes to the grandmother’s house and pretends to be the girl. After the grandmother lets him in, he swallows her whole, and waits for her, disguised as the grandma.
When the girl arrives, she right away notices that her grandmother looks somewhat strange. She then says, “What big hands you have!” to which the big bad wolf replies, “The better to eat you with” and swallows her up as well. A huntsman, however, comes to the rescue just at the right moment and cuts the wolf open. Grandma and Little Red Riding Hood emerge shaken, but unharmed. 


ANALYSIS
Every story has its own beginning, middle and end yet not all of it is being presented in order.
Little Red Riding Hood offers the proper order of each plot, making the reader clearly understand the message of the story itself- exact reason why Little Red Riding Hood is under the theory of Structuralism.

Linggo, Enero 27, 2013

(DECONSTRUCTIONISM) Love Buffet

THEORY
DECONSTRUCTIONISM
-The method of reading which is based on the assumption that language is reliable.
-Its goal is to seek out contradictions in the text to prove that the text lacks unity and coherence.


TITLE
LOVE BUFFET


SYNOPSIS
Xiao Feng is a lively girl, who loves to work with kids. She is also starting her first year of college. When the arrival Yi Cheng and Da Ye, her new neighbors; who also attend the same college with her. 

Xiao Feng has to figure out a way that she can survive at school, knowing the two hottest, richest guys are sharing a house with her. Yi Cheng is a quiet, handsome guy, who can't get over his past romance, Da Ye on the other hand, who is cute, charming and very sweet, doesn't know the meaning of love, he is quite a playboy. But when Xiao Feng falls in love with Da Ye, he can only say he doesn't know what a real relationship is. 

Heart Broken, she finds herself being comforted by his cousin Yi Cheng, falling for him now, she is once again broken hearted, and crawls back to Da Ye.


ANALYSIS
I watched Love Buffet and I love the story but as I read other comments, I found out that there are viewers who were quite confused with it. I then, reviewed the story. 
The love story of Da Ye, Xiao Feng and Yi Cheng is kinda ambiguous that even the character themselves are being confused with their feelings.
At first, Xiao Feng fell in love with Da Ye which the latter rejected, saying that he doesn't know what love is. Yi Cheng, the cousin of Da Ye, comforted Xiao Feng and eventually, the two started to develop feelings for each other. Seeing how happy Xiao Feng and Yi Cheng is, Da Ye, then, realized the worth of Xiao Feng and felt happy for the two.
Just when Xiao Feng is ready to love Yi Cheng, she found out that the latter can't still get over his past love and that broke her heart. Da Ye is back to the scene, comforting Xiao Feng and that's when he began to know and understand what love is.
Yi Cheng tried his best to let go of his past love and all the feelings that he has for his first love. After some time, Yi Cheng wanted Xiao Feng back but she already realized that Da Ye is the one she really loves.
Yi Cheng just wished his cousin, Da Ye, and his love, Xiao Feng, all the best in their love!
Their love story was made on that ambiguous way. Therefore, it falls under Deconstructionism Theory.

(AMERICAN PRAGMATISM) The Philadelphia Negro by W.E.B. DuBois

THEORY
AMERICAN PRAGMATISM
-It is a philosophical tradition centered on the linking of practice and theory. 
-It describes a process where theory is extracted from practice, and applied back to practice to form what is called intelligent practice.


TITLE | AUTHOR
THE PHILADELPHIA NEGRO BY W.E.B DUBOIS


PLOT
A collection of fourteen essays which records the cruelties of racism, celebrates the strength and pride of black America and explores the paradoxical "double consciousness" of African-American life. 

Color Prejudice

-- Incidentally throughout this study the prejudice against the Negro has been again and again mentioned. It is time now to reduce this somewhat indefinite term to something tangible. Everybody speaks of the matter, everybody knows that it exists, but in just what form it shows itself or how influential it is few agree. In the Negro’s mind, color prejudice in Philadelphia is that widespread feeling of dislike for his blood, which keeps him and his children out of decent employment, from certain public conveniences and amusements, from hiring houses in many sections, and in general, from being recognized as a man. Negroes regard this prejudice as the chief cause of their present unfortunate condition. On the other hand most white people are quite unconscious of any such powerful and vindictive feeling; they regard color prejudice as the easily explicable feeling that intimate social intercourse with a lower race is not only undesirable but impracticable if our present standards of culture are to be maintained; and although they are aware that some people feel the aversion more intensely than others, they cannot see how such a feeling has much influence on the real situation or alters the social condition of the mass of Negroes.

As a matter of fact, color prejudice in this city is something between these two extreme views: it is not to-day responsible for all, or perhaps the greater part of the Negro problems, or of the disabilities under which the race labors; on the other hand it is a far more powerful social force than most Philadelphians realize. The practical results of the attitude of most of the inhabitants of Philadelphia toward persons of Negro descent are as follows:

1. As to getting work:

No matter how well trained a Negro may be, or how fitted for work of any kind, he cannot in the ordinary course of competition hope to be much more than a menial servant.

He cannot get clerical or supervisory work to do save in exceptional cases.

He cannot teach save in a few of the remaining Negro schools.

He cannot become a mechanic except for small transient jobs, and cannot join a trades union.

A Negro woman has but three careers open to her in this city: domestic service, sewing, or married life.

2. As to keeping work:

The Negro suffers in competition more severely than white men.

Change in fashion is causing him to be replaced by whites in the better paid positions of domestic service.

Whim and accident will cause him to lose a hard-earned place more quickly than the same things would affect a white man.

Being few in number compared with the whites the crime or carelessness of a few of his race is easily imputed to all, and the reputation of the good, industrious and reliable suffer thereby.

Because Negro workmen may not often work side by side with white workmen, the individual black workman is rated not by his own efficiency, but by the efficiency of a whole group of black fellow workmen which may often be low.

Because of these difficulties which virtually increase competition in his case, he is forced to take lower wages for the same work than white workmen.

3. As to entering new lines of work:

Men are used to seeing Negroes in inferior positions; when, therefore, by any chance a Negro gets in a better position, most men immediately conclude that he is not fitted for it, even before he has a chance to show his fitness.

If, therefore, he set up a store, men will not patronize him.

If he is put into public position men will complain.

If he gain a position in the commercial world, men will quietly secure his dismissal or see that a white man succeeds him.

4. As to his expenditure:

The comparative smallness of the patronage of the Negro, and the dislike of other customers makes it usual to increase the charges or difficulties in certain directions in which a Negro must spend money.

He must pay more house-rent for worse houses than most white people pay.

He is sometimes liable to insult or reluctant service in some restaurants, hotels and stores, at public resorts, theatres and places of recreation; and at nearly all barber shops.

5. As to his children:

The Negro finds it extremely difficult to rear children in such an atmosphere and not have them either cringing or impudent: if he impresses upon them patience with their lot, they may grow up satisfied with their condition; if he inspires them with ambition to rise, they may grow to despise their own people, hate the whites and become embittered with the world.

His children are discriminated against, often in public schools.

They are advised when seeking employment to become waiters and maids.

They are liable to species of insult and temptation peculiarly trying to children.

6. As to social intercourse:

In all walks of life the Negro is liable to meet some objection to his presence or some discourteous treatment; and the ties of friendship or memory seldom are strong enough to hold across the color line.

If an invitation is issued to the public for any occasion, the Negro can never know whether he would be welcomed or not; if he goes he is liable to have his feelings hurt and get into unpleasant altercation; if he stays away, he is blamed for indifference.

If he meet a lifelong white friend on the street, he is in a dilemma; if he does not greet the friend he is put down as boorish and impolite; if he does greet the friend he is liable to be flatly snubbed.

If by chance he is introduced to a white woman or man, he expects to be ignored on the next meeting, and usually is.

White friends may call on him, but he is scarcely expected to call on them, save for strictly business matters.

If he gain the affections of a white woman and marry her he may invariably expect that slurs will be thrown on her reputation and on his, and that both his and her race will shun their company.1

When he dies he cannot be buried beside white corpses.

7. The result:

Any one of these things happening now and then would not be remarkable or call for especial comment; but when one group of people suffer all these little differences of treatment and discriminations and insults continually, the result is either discouragement, or bitterness, or over-sensitiveness, or recklessness. And a people feeling thus cannot do their best.

Presumably the first impulse of the average Philadelphian would be emphatically to deny any such marked and blighting discrimination as the above against a group of citizens in this metropolis. Every one knows that in the past color prejudice in the city was deep and passionate; living men can remember when a Negro could not sit in a street car or walk many streets in peace. These times have passed, however, and many imagine that active discrimination against the Negro has passed with them. Careful inquiry will convince any such one of his error. To be sure a colored man to-day can walk the streets of Philadelphia without personal insult; he can go to theatres, parks and some places of amusement without meeting more than stares and discourtesy; he can be accommodated at most hotels and restaurants, although his treatment in some would not be pleasant. All this is a vast advance and augurs much for the future. And yet all that has been said of the remaining discrimination is but too true.

During the investigation of 1896 there was collected a number of actual cases, which may illustrate the discriminations spoken of. So far as possible these have been sifted and only those which seem undoubtedly true have been selected.

1. As to getting work.

It is hardly necessary to dwell upon the situation of the Negro in regard to work in the higher walks of life: the white boy may start in the lawyer’s office and work himself into a lucrative practice; he may serve a physician as office boy or enter a hospital in a minor position, and have his talent alone between him and affluence and fame; if he is bright in school, he may make his mark in a university, become a tutor with some time and much inspiration for study, and eventually fill a professor’s chair. All these careers are at the very outset closed to the Negro on account of his color; what lawyer would give even a minor case to a Negro assistant? or what university would appoint a promising young Negro as tutor? Thus the young white man starts in life knowing that within some limits and barring accidents, talent and application will tell. The young Negro starts knowing that on all sides his advance is made doubly difficult if not wholly shut off by his color. Let us come, however, to ordinary occupations which concern more nearly the mass of Negroes. Philadelphia is a great industrial and business centre, with thousands of foremen, managers and clerks--the lieutenants of industry who direct its progress. They are paid for thinking and for skill to direct, and naturally such positions are coveted because they are well paid, well thought-of and carry some authority. To such positions Negro boys and girls may not aspire no matter what their qualifications. Even as teachers and ordinary clerks and stenographers they find almost no openings. Let us note some actual instances:

A young woman who graduated with credit from the Girls’ Normal School in 1892, has taught in the kindergarten, acted as substitute, and waited in vain for a permanent position. Once she was allowed to substitute in a school with white teachers; the principal commended her work, but when the permanent appointment was made a white woman got it.

A girl who graduated from a Pennsylvania high school and from a business college sought work in the city as a stenographer and typewriter. A prominent lawyer undertook to find her a position; he went to friends and said, "Here is a girl that does excellent work and is of good character; can you not give her work?" Several immediately answered yes. "But," said the lawyer, "I will be perfectly frank with you and tell you she is colored;" and not in the whole city could he find a man willing to employ her. It happened, however, that the girl was so light in complexion that few not knowing would have suspected her descent. The lawyer therefore gave her temporary work in his own office until she found a position outside the city. "But," said he, "to this day I have not dared to tell my clerks that they worked beside a Negress." Another woman graduated from the high school and the Palmer College of Shorthand, but all over the city has met with nothing but refusal of work.

Several graduates in pharmacy have sought to get their three years required apprenticeship in the city and in only one case did one succeed, although they offered to work for nothing. One young pharmacist came from Massachusetts and for weeks sought in vain for work here at any price; "I wouldn’t have a darky to clean out my store, much less to stand behind the counter," answered one druggist. A colored man answered an advertisement for a clerk in the suburbs. "What do you suppose we’d want of a nigger?" was the plain answer. A graduate of the University of Pennsylvania in mechanical engineering, well recommended, obtained work in the city, through an advertisement, on account of his excellent record. He worked a few hours and then was discharged because he was found to be colored. He is now a waiter at the University Club, where his white fellow graduates dine. Another young man attended Spring Garden Institute and studied drawing for lithography. He had good references from the institute and elsewhere, but application at the five largest establishments in the city could secure him no work. A telegraph operator has hunted in vain for an opening, and two graduates of the Central High School have sunk to menial labor. "What’s the use of an education?" asked one. Mr. A--has elsewhere been employed as a traveling salesman. He applied for a position here by letter and was told he could have one. When they saw him they had no work for him.

Such cases could be multiplied indefinitely. But that is not necessary; one has but to note that, notwithstanding the acknowledged ability of many colored men, the Negro is conspicuously absent from all places of honor, trust or emolument, as well as from those of respectable grade in commerce and industry.

Even in the world of skilled labor the Negro is largely excluded. Many would explain the absence of Negroes from higher vocations by saying that while a few may now and then be found competent, the great mass are not fitted for that sort of work and are destined for some time to form a laboring class. In the matter of the trades, however, there can be raised no serious question of ability; for years the Negroes filled satisfactorily the trades of the city, and to-day in many parts of the South they are still prominent. And yet in Philadelphia a determined prejudice, aided by public opinion, has succeeded nearly in driving them from the field:

A-- --, who works at a bookbinding establishment on Front street, has learned to bind books and often does so for his friends. He is not allowed to work at the trade in the shop, however, but must remain a porter at a porter’s wages.

B-- --, is a brushmaker; he has applied at several establishments, but they would not even examine his testimonials. They simply said: "We do not employ colored people."

C-- --, is a shoemaker; he tried to get work in some of the large department stores. They "had no place" for him.

D-- --, was a bricklayer, but experienced so much trouble in getting work that he is now a messenger...

Such is the tangible form of Negro prejudice in Philadelphia. Possibly some of the particular cases cited can be proven to have had extenuating circumstances unknown to the investigator; at the same time many not cited would be just as much in point. At any rate no one who has with any diligence studied the situation of the Negro in the city can long doubt but that his opportunities are limited and his ambition circumscribed about as has been shown. There are of course numerous exceptions, but the mass of the Negroes have been so often refused openings and discouraged in efforts to better their condition that many of them say, as one said, "I never apply--I know it is useless." Beside these tangible and measurable forms there are deeper and less easily described results of the attitude of the white population toward the Negroes: a certain manifestation of a real or assumed aversion, a spirit of ridicule or patronage, a vindictive hatred in some, absolute indifference in others; all this of course does not make much difference to the mass of the race, but it deeply wounds the better classes, the very classes who are attaining to that to which we wish the mass to attain. Notwithstanding all this, most Negroes would patiently await the effect of time and commonsense on such prejudice did it not to-day touch them in matters of life and death; threaten their homes, their food, their children, their hopes. And the result of this is bound to be increased crime, inefficiency and bitterness.

It would, of course, be idle to assert that most of the Negro crime was caused by prejudice; the violent economic and social changes which the last fifty years have brought to the American Negro, the sad social history that preceded these changes, have all contributed to unsettle morals and pervert talents. Nevertheless it is certain that Negro prejudice in cities like Philadelphia has been a vast factor m aiding and abetting all other causes which impel a half-developed race to recklessness and excess. Certainly a great amount of crime can be without doubt traced to the discrimination against Negro boys and girls in the matter of employment. Or to put it differently, Negro prejudice costs the city something.

The connection of crime and prejudice is, on the other hand, neither simple nor direct. The boy who is refused promotion in his job as porter does not go out and snatch somebody’s pocketbook. Conversely the loafers at Twelfth and Kater streets, and the thugs in the county prison are not usually graduates of high schools who have been refused work. The connections are much more subtle and dangerous; it is the atmosphere of rebellion and discontent that unrewarded merit and reasonable but unsatisfied ambition make. The social environment of excuse, listless despair, careless indulgence and lack of inspiration to work is the growing force that turns black boys and girls into gamblers, prostitutes and rascals. And this social environment has been built up slowly out of the disappointments of deserving men and the sloth of the unawakened. How long can a city say to a part of its citizens, "It is useless to work; it is fruitless to deserve well of men; education will gain you nothing but disappointment and humiliation?" How long can a city teach its black children that the road to success is to have a white face? How long can a city do this and escape the inevitable penalty?

For thirty years and more Philadelphia has said to its black children: "Honesty, efficiency and talent have little to do with your success; if you work hard spend little and are good you may earn your bread and butter at those sorts of work which we frankly confess we despise; if you are dishonest and lazy, the State will furnish your bread free." Thus the class of Negroes which the prejudices of the city have distinctly encouraged is that of the criminal, the lazy and the shiftless; for them the city teems with institutions and charities; for them there is succor and sympathy; for them Philadelphians are thinking and planning; but for the educated and industrious young colored man who wants work and not platitudes, wages and not alms, just rewards and not sermons--for such colored men Philadelphia apparently has no use.

What then do such men do? What becomes of the graduates of the many schools of tee city? The answer is simple: most of those who amount to anything leave the city, the others take what they can get for a livelihood. Let us for a moment glance at the statistics of three colored schools:

1. The 0. V. Catto Primary School.

2. The Robert Vaux Grammar School.

3. The Institute for Colored Youth.

There attended the Catto school, 1867-97, 5915 pupils. Of these there were promoted from the full course, 653. 129 of the latter are known to be in positions of higher grade; or taking out 93 who are still in school, there remain 36 as follows: 18 teachers, 10 clerks, 2 physicians, 2 engravers, 2 printers, 1 lawyer and 1 mechanic.

The other 524 are for the most part in service, laborers and housewives. Of the 36 more successful ones fully half are at work outside of the city.

Of the Vaux school there were, 1877-89, 76 graduates. Of these there are 16 unaccounted for; the rest are:

Teachers 27 Barbers 4
Musicians 5 Clerks 3
Merchants 3 Physician 1
Mechanic 1 Deceased 8
Clergymen 3 Housewives 5

60


From one-half to two-thirds of these have been compelled to leave the city in order to find work; one, the artist, Tanner, whom France recently honored, could not in his native land much less in his native city find room for his talents. He taught school in Georgia in order to earn money enough to go abroad.

The Institute of Colored Youth has had 340 graduates, 1856-97; 57 of these are dead. Of the 283 remaining 91 are unaccounted for. The rest are:

Teachers 117 Electrical Engineer 1
Lawyers 4 Professor 1
Physicians 4 Government Clerks 5
Musicians 4 Merchants 7
Dentists 2 Mechanics 5
Clergymen 2 Clerks 23
Nurses 2 Teacher of Cooking 1
Editor 1 Dressmakers 4
Civil Engineer 1 Students 7
191


Here, again, nearly three-fourths of the graduates who have amounted to anything have had to leave the city for work. The civil engineer, for instance, tried in vain to get work here and finally had to go to New Jersey to teach.

There have been 9, possibly 11, colored graduates of the Central High School. These are engaged as follows:

Grocer 1 Porter 1
Clerks in service of city 2 Butler 1
Caterer 1 Unknown 3 or 5


It is high time that the best conscience of Philadelphia awakened to her duty; her Negro citizens are here to remain; they can be made good citizens or burdens to the community; if we want them to be sources of wealth and power and not of poverty and weakness then they must be given employment according to their ability and encouraged to train that ability and increase their talents by the hope of reasonable reward. To educate boys and girls and then refuse them work is to train loafers and rogues.

From another point of view it could be argued with much cogency that the cause of economic stress, and consequently of crime, was the recent inconsiderate rush of Negroes into cities; and that the unpleasant results of this migration, while deplorable, will nevertheless serve to check the movement of Negroes to cities and keep them in the country where their chance for economic development is widest. This argument loses much of its point from the fact that it is the better class of educated Philadelphia-born Negroes who have the most difficulty in obtaining employment. The new immigrant fresh from the South is much more apt to obtain work suitable for him than the black boy born here and trained in efficiency. Nevertheless it is undoubtedly true that the recent migration has both directly and indirectly increased crime and competition. How is this movement to be checked? Much can be done by correcting misrepresentations as to the opportunities of city life made by designing employment bureaus and thoughtless persons; a more strict surveillance of criminals might prevent the influx of undesirable elements. Such efforts, however, would not touch the main stream of immigration. Back of that stream is the world-wide desire to rise in the world, to escape the choking narrowness of the plantation, and the lawless repression of the village, in the South. It is a search for better opportunities of living, and as such it must be discouraged and repressed with great care and delicacy, if at all. The real movement of reform is the raising of economic standards and increase of economic opportunity in the South. Mere land and climate without law and order, capital and skill, will not develop a country. When Negroes in the South have a larger opportunity to work, accumulate property, be protected in life and limb, and encourage pride and self-respect in their children, there will be a diminution in the stream of immigrants to Northern cities. At the same time if those cities practice industrial exclusion against these immigrants to such an extent that they are forced to become paupers, loafers and criminals, they can scarcely complain of conditions in the South. Northern cities should not, of course, seek to encourage and invite a poor quality of labor, with low standards of life and morals. The standards of wages and respectability should be kept up; but when a man reaches those standards in skill, efficiency and decency no question of color should, in a civilized community, debar him from an equal chance with his peers in earning a living...

A Final Word

Two sorts of answers are usually returned to the bewildered American who asks seriously: What is the Negro problem? The one is straightforward and clear: it is simply this, or simply that, and one simple remedy long enough applied will in time cause it to disappear. The other answer is apt to be hopelessly involved and complex -- to indicate no simple panacea, and to end in a somewhat hopeless --There it is; what can we do? Both of these sorts of answers have something of truth in them: the Negro problem looked at in one way is but the old world questions of ignorance, poverty, crime, and the dislike of the stranger. On the other hand it is a mistake to think that attacking each of these questions single-handed without reference to the others will settle the matter: a combination of social problems is far more than a matter of mere addition, -- the combination itself is a problem. Nevertheless the Negro problems are not more hopelessly complex than many others have been. Their elements despite their bewildering complication can be kept clearly in view: they are after all the same difficulties over which the world has grown gray: the question as to how far human intelligence can be trusted and trained; as to whether we must always have the poor with us; as to whether it is possible for the mass of men to attain righteousness on earth; and then to this is added that question of questions: after all who are Men? Is every featherless biped to be counted a man and brother? Are all races and types to be joint heirs of the new earth that men have striven to raise in thirty centuries and more? Shall we not swamp civilization in barbarism and drown genius in indulgence if we seek a mythical Humanity which shall shadow all men? The answer of the early centuries to this puzzle was clear: those of any nation who can be called Men and endowed with rights are few: they are the privileged classes --the well-born and the accidents of low birth called up by the King. The rest, the mass of the nation, the p--bel, the mob, are fit to follow, to obey, to dig and delve, but not to think or rule or play the gentleman. We who were born to another philosophy hardly realize how deep-seated and plausible this view of human capabilities and powers once was; how utterly incomprehensible this republic would have been to Charlemagne or Charles V or Charles I. We rather hasten to forget that once the courtiers of English kings looked upon the ancestors of most Americans with far greater contempt than these Americans look upon Negroes --and perhaps, indeed, had more cause. We forget that once French peasants were the "Niggers" of France, and that German princelings once discussed with doubt the brains and humanity of the bauer.

Much of this --or at least some of it --has passed and the world has glided by blood and iron into a wider humanity, a wider respect for simple manhood unadorned by ancestors or privilege. Not that we have discovered, as some hoped and some feared, that all men were created free and equal, but rather that the differences in men are not so vast as we had assumed. We still yield the well-born the advantages of birth, we still see that each nation has its dangerous flock of fools and rascals; but we also find most men have brains to be cultivated and souls to be saved.

And still this widening of the idea of common Humanity is of slow growth and to-day but dimly realized. We grant full citizenship in the World Commonwealth to the "Anglo-Saxon" (whatever that may mean), the Teuton and the Latin; then with just a shade of reluctance we extend it to the Celt and Slav. We half deny it to the yellow races of Asia, admit the brown Indians to an ante-room only on the strength of an undeniable past; but with the Negroes of Africa we come to a full stop, and in its heart the civilized world with one accord denies that these come within the pale of nineteenth-century Humanity. This feeling, widespread and deep-seated, is, in America, the vastest of the Negro problems; we have, to be sure, a threatening problem of ignorance but the ancestors of most Americans were far more ignorant than the freedmen’s sons; these ex-slaves are poor but not as poor as the Irish peasants used to be; crime is rampant but not more so, if as much, as in Italy; but the difference is that the ancestors of the English and the Irish and the Italians were felt to be worth educating, helping and guiding because they were men and brothers, while in America a census which gives a slight indication of the utter disappearance of the American Negro from the earth is greeted with ill-concealed delight.

Other centuries looking back upon the culture of the nineteenth would have a right to suppose that if, in a land of freemen, eight millions of human beings were found to be dying of disease, the nation would cry with one voice, "Heal them!" If they were staggering on in ignorance, it would cry, "Train them!" If they were harming themselves and others by crime, it would cry, "Guide them!" And such cries are heard and have been heard in the land; but it was not one voice and its volume has been ever broken by counter-cries and echoes, "Let them die!" "Train them like slaves!" "Let them stagger downward!"

This is the spirit that enters in and complicates all Negro social problems and this is a problem which only civilization and humanity can successfully solve. Meantime we have the other problems before us -- we have the problems arising from the uniting of so many social questions about one centre. In such a situation we need only to avoid underestimating the difficulties on the one hand and overestimating them on the other. The problems are difficult, extremely difficult, but they are such as the world has conquered before and can conquer again. Moreover the battle involves more than a mere altruistic interest in an alien people. It is a battle for humanity and human culture. If in the hey-dey of the greatest of the world’s civilizations, it is possible for one people ruthlessly to steal another, drag them helpless across the water, enslave them, debauch them, and then slowly murder them by economic and social exclusion until they disappear from the face of the earth--if the consummation of such a crime be possible in the twentieth century, then our civilization is vain and the republic is a mockery and a farce.

But this will not be; first, even with the terribly adverse circumstances under which Negroes live, there is not the slightest likelihood of their dying out; a nation that has endured the slave-trade, slavery, reconstruction, and present prejudice three hundred years, and under it increased in numbers and efficiency, is not in any immediate danger of extinction. Nor is the thought of voluntary or involuntary emigration more than a dream of men who forget that there are half as many Negroes in the United States as Spaniards in Spain. If this be so then a few plain propositions may be laid down as axiomatic:

1. The Negro is here to stay.

2. It is to the advantage of all, both black and white, that every Negro should make the best of himself.

3. It is the duty of the Negro to raise himself by every effort to the standards of modern civilization and not to lower those standards in any degree.

4. It is the duty of the white people to guard their civilization against debauchment by themselves or others; but in order to do this it is not necessary to hinder and retard the efforts of an earnest people to rise, simply because they lack faith in the ability of that people.

5. With these duties in mind and with a spirit of self-help, mutual aid and co-operation, the two races should strive side by side to realize the ideals of the republic and make this truly a land of equal opportunity for all men.

The Duty of the Negroes

That the Negro race has an appalling work of social reform before it need hardly be said. Simply because the ancestors of the present white inhabitants of America went out of their way barbarously to mistreat and enslave the ancestors of the present black inhabitants gives those blacks no right to ask that the civilization and morality of the land be seriously menaced for their benefit. Men have a right to demand that the members of a civilized community be civilized; that the fabric of human culture, so laboriously woven, be not wantonly or ignorantly destroyed. Consequently a nation may rightly demand, even of a people it has consciously and intentionally wronged, not indeed complete civilization in thirty or one hundred years, but at least every effort and sacrifice possible on their part toward making themselves fit members of the community within a reasonable length of time; that thus they may early become a source of strength and help instead of a national burden. Modern society has too many problems of its own, too much proper anxiety as to its own ability to survive under its present organization, for it lightly to shoulder all the burdens of a less advanced people, and it can rightly demand that as far as possible and as rapidly as possible the Negro bend his energy to the solving of his own social problems --contributing to his poor, paying his share of the taxes and supporting the schools and public administration. For the accomplishment of this the Negro has a right to demand freedom for self-development, and no more aid from without than is really helpful for furthering that development. Such aid must of necessity he considerable: it must furnish schools and reformatories, and relief and preventive agencies; but the bulk of the work of raising the Negro must be done by the Negro himself, and the greatest help for him will be not to hinder and curtail and discourage his efforts. Against prejudice, injustice and wrong the Negro ought to protest energetically and continuously, but he must never forget that he protests because those things hinder his own efforts, and that those efforts are the key to his future.

And those efforts must be mighty and comprehensive, persistent, well-aimed and tireless; satisfied with no partial success, lulled to sleep by no colorless victories; and, above all, guided by no low selfish ideals; at the same time they must be tempered by common sense and rational expectation. In Philadelphia those efforts should first be directed toward a lessening of Negro crime; no doubt the amount of crime imputed to the race is exaggerated, no doubt features of the Negro’s environment over which he has no control, excuse much that is committed; but beyond all this the amount of crime that can without doubt rightly be laid at the door of the Philadelphia Negro is large and is a menace to a civilized people. Efforts to stop this crime must commence in the Negro homes; they must cease to be, as they often are, breeders of idleness and extravagance and complaint. Work, continuous and intensive; work, although it be menial and poorly rewarded; work, though done in travail of soul and sweat of brow, must be so impressed upon Negro children as the road to salvation, that a child would feel it a greater disgrace to be idle than to do the humblest labor. The homely virtues of honesty, truth and chastity must be instilled in the cradle, and although it is hard to teach self-respect to a people whose million fellow-citizens half-despise them, yet it must be taught as the surest road to gain the respect of others.

It is right and proper that Negro boys and girls should desire to rise as high in the world as their ability and just desert entitle them. They should be ever encouraged and urged to do so, although they should be taught also that idleness and crime are beneath and not above the lowest work. It should be the continual object of Negroes to open up better industrial chances for their sons and daughters. Their success here must of course rest largely with the white people, but not entirely. Proper co-operation among forty or fifty thousand colored people ought to open many chances of employment for their sons and daughters in trades, stores and shops, associations and industrial enterprises.

Further, some rational means of amusement should be furnished young folks. Prayer meetings and church socials have their place, but they cannot compete in attractiveness with the dance halls and gambling dens of the city. There is a legitimate demand for amusement on the part of the young which may be made a means of education, improvement and recreation. A harmless and beautiful amusement like dancing might with proper effort be rescued from its low and unhealthful associations and made a means of health and recreation. The billiard table is no more wedded to the saloon than to the church if good people did not drive it there. If the Negro homes and churches cannot amuse their young people, and if no other efforts are made to satisfy this want, then we cannot complain if the saloons and clubs and bawdy houses send these children to crime, disease and death.

There is a vast amount of preventive and rescue work which the Negroes themselves might do: keeping little girls off the street at night, stopping the escorting of unchaperoned young ladies to church and elsewhere, showing the dangers of the lodging system, urging the buying of homes and removal from crowded and tainted neighborhoods, giving lectures and tracts on health and habits, exposing the dangers of gambling and policy playing, and inculcating respect for women. Day-nurseries and sewing-schools, mothers’ meetings, the parks and airing places, all these things are little known or appreciated among the masses of Negroes, and their attention should be directed to them.

The spending of money is a matter to which Negroes need to give especial attention. Money is wasted to-day in dress, furniture, elaborate entertainments, costly church edifices, and "insurance" schemes, which ought to go toward buying homes, educating children, giving simple healthful amusement to the young, and accumulating something in the savings bank against a "rainy day." A crusade for the savings bank as against the "insurance" society ought to be started in the Seventh Ward without delay.

Although directly after the war there was great and remarkable enthusiasm for education, there is no doubt but that this enthusiasm has fallen off, and there is to-day much neglect of children among the Negroes, and failure to send them regularly to school. This should be looked into by the Negroes themselves and every effort made to induce full regular attendance.

Above all, the better classes of the Negroes should recognize their duty toward the masses. They should not forget that the spirit of the twentieth century is to be the turning of the high toward the lowly, the bending of Humanity to all that is human; the recognition that in the slums of modern society lie the answers to most of our puzzling problems of organization and life, and that only as we solve those problems is our culture assured and our progress certain. This the Negro is far from recognizing for himself; his social evolution in cities like Philadelphia is approaching a medieval stage when the centrifugal forces of repulsion between social classes are becoming more powerful than those of attraction. So hard has been the rise of the better class of Negroes that they fear to fall if now they stoop to lend a hand to their fellows. This feeling is intensified by the blindness of those outsiders who persist even now in confounding the good and bad, the risen and fallen in one mass. Nevertheless the Negro must learn the lesson that other nations learned so laboriously and imperfectly, that his better classes have their chief excuse for being in the work they may do toward lifting the rabble. This is especially true in a city like Philadelphia which has so distinct and creditable a Negro aristocracy; that they do something already to grapple with these social problems of their race is true, but they do not yet do nearly as much as they must, nor do they clearly recognize their responsibility.

Finally, the Negroes must cultivate a spirit of calm, patient persistence in their attitude toward their fellow citizens rather than of loud and intemperate complaint. A man may be wrong, and know he is wrong, and yet some finesse must be used in telling him of it. The white people of Philadelphia are perfectly conscious that their Negro citizens are not treated fairly in all respects, but it will not improve matters to call names or impute unworthy motives to all men. Social reforms move slowly and yet when Right is reinforced by calm but persistent Progress we somehow all feel that in the end it must triumph.

The Duty of the Whites

There is a tendency on the part of many white people to approach the Negro question from the side which just now is of least pressing importance, namely, that of the social intermingling of races. The old query: Would you want your sister to marry a Nigger? still stands as a grim sentinel to stop much rational discussion. And yet few white women have been pained by the addresses of black suitors, and those who have easily got rid of them. The whole discussion is little less than foolish; perhaps a century from to-day we may find ourselves seriously discussing such questions of social policy, but it is certain that just as long as one group deems it a seriousmesalliance to marry with another just so long few marriages will take place, and it will need neither law nor argument to guide human choice in such a matter. Certainly the masses of whites would hardly acknowledge that an active propaganda of repression was necessary to ward off intermarriage. Natural pride of race, strong on one side and growing on the other, may be trusted to ward off such mingling as might in this stage of development prove disastrous to both races. All this therefore is a question of the far-off future.

To-day, however, we must face the fact that a natural repugnance to close intermingling with unfortunate ex-slaves has descended to a discrimination that very seriously hinders them from being anything better. It is right and proper to object to ignorance and consequently to ignorant men; but if by our actions we have been responsible for their ignorance and are still actively engaged in keeping them ignorant, the argument loses its moral force. So with the Negroes: men have a right to object to a race so poor and ignorant and inefficient as the mass of the Negroes; but if their policy in the past is parent of much of this condition, and if to-day by shutting black boys and girls out of most avenues of decent employment they are increasing pauperism and vice, then they must hold themselves largely responsible for the deplorable results.

There is no doubt that in Philadelphia the centre and kernel of the Negro problem so far as the white people are concerned is the narrow opportunities afforded Negroes for earning a decent living. Such discrimination is morally wrong, politically dangerous, industrially wasteful, and socially silly. It is the duty of the whites to stop it, and to do so primarily for their own sakes. Industrial freedom of opportunity has by long experience been proven to be generally best for all. Moreover the cost of crime and pauperism, the growth of slums, and the pernicious influences of idleness and lewdness, cost the public far more than would the hurt to the feelings of a carpenter to work beside a black man, or a shop girl to stand beside a darker mate. This does not contemplate the wholesale replacing of white workmen for Negroes out of sympathy or philanthropy; it does mean that talent should be rewarded, and aptness used in commerce and industry whether its owner be black or white; that the same incentive to good, honest, effective work be placed before a black office boy as before a white one --before a black porter as before a white one; and that unless this is done the city has no right to complain that black boys lose interest in work and drift into idleness and crime. Probably a change in public opinion on this point to-morrow would not make very much difference in the positions occupied by Negroes in the city: some few would be promoted, some few would get new places--the mass would remain as they are; but it would make one vast difference: it would inspire the young to try harder, it would stimulate the idle and discouraged and it would take away from this race the omnipresent excuse for failure: prejudice. Such a moral change would work a revolution in the criminal rate during the next ten years. Even a Negro bootblack could black boots better if he knew he was a menial not because he was a Negro but because he was best fitted for that work.

We need then a radical change in public opinion on this point; it will not and ought not to come suddenly, but instead of thoughtless acquiescence in the continual and steadily encroaching exclusion of Negroes from work in the city, the leaders of industry and opinion ought to be trying here and there to open up new opportunities and give new chances to bright colored boys. The policy of the city to-day simply drives out the best class of young people whom its schools have educated and social opportunities trained, and fills their places with idle and vicious immigrants. It is a paradox of the times that young men and women from some of the best Negro families of the city�families born and reared here and schooled in the best traditions of this municipality have actually had to go to the South to get work, if they wished to be aught but chambermaids and bootblacks. Not that such work may not be honorable and useful, but that it is as wrong to make scullions of engineers as it is to make engineers of scullions. Such a situation is a disgrace to the city--a disgrace to its Christianity, to its spirit of justice, to its common sense; what can be the end of such a policy but increased crime and increased excuse for crime? Increased poverty and more reason to be poor? Increased political serfdom of the mass of black voters to the bosses and rascals who divide the spoils? Surely here lies the first duty of a civilized city.

Secondly, in their efforts for the uplifting of the Negro the people of Philadelphia must recognize the existence of the better class of Negroes and must gain their active aid and co-operation by generous and polite conduct. Social sympathy must exist between what is best in both races and there must no longer be the feeling that the Negro who makes the best of himself is of least account to the city of Philadelphia, while the vagabond is to be helped and pitied. This better class of Negro does not want help or pity, but it does want a generous recognition of its difficulties, and a broad sympathy with the problem of life as it presents itself to them. It is composed of men and women educated and in many cases cultured; with proper co-operation they could be a vast power in the city, and the only power that could successfully cope with many phases of the Negro problems. But their active aid cannot be gained for purely selfish motives, or kept by churlish and ungentle manners; and above all they object to being patronized.

Again, the white people of the city must remember that much of the sorrow and bitterness that surrounds the life of the American Negro comes from the unconscious prejudice and half-conscious actions of men and women who do not intend to wound or annoy. One is not compelled to discuss the Negro question with every Negro one meets or to tell him of a father who was connected with the Underground Railroad; one is not compelled to stare at the solitary black face in the audience as though it were not human; it is not necessary to sneer, or be unkind or boorish, if the Negroes in the room or on the street are not all the best behaved or have not the most elegant manners; it is hardly necessary to strike from the dwindling list of one’s boyhood and girlhood acquaintances or school-day friends all those who happen to have Negro blood, simply because one has not the courage now to greet them on the street. The little decencies of daily intercourse can go on, the courtesies of life be exchanged even across the color line without any danger to the supremacy of the Anglo-Saxon or the social ambition of the Negro. Without doubt social differences are facts not fancies and cannot lightly be swept aside; but they hardly need to be looked upon as excuses for downright meanness and incivility.

A polite and sympathetic attitude toward these striving thousands; a delicate avoidance of that which wounds and embitters them; a generous granting of opportunity to them; a seconding of their efforts, and a desire to reward honest success--all this, added to proper striving on their part, will go far even in our day toward making all men, white and black, realize what the great founder of the city meant when he named it the City of Brotherly Love.


ANALYSIS
DuBois' vision of racial equality was reflected on this book. Their study in the ethnography and history of Philadelphia required theories to be applied and many practices to prove. The final aim of this is to inform a safe guide of all efforts for the solution of Negro problems in an American City.
The Philadelphia Negro is truly a relevant a book of all times!

(NEW CRITICISM) The Death of the Ball Turret Gunner by Randall Jarrell

THEORY
NEW CRITICISM

-The methodology of finding meaning is clear cut.
-The tools are unique to literary analysis.
-Its meaning resides in text-not in reader, author or world.


TITLE | AUTHOR
THE DEATH OF THE BALL TURRET GUNNER BY RANDALL JARRELL


POEM
From my mother's sleep I fell into the State,
And I hunched in its belly till my wet fur froze.
Six miles from earth, loosed from its dream of life,
I woke to black flak and the nightmare fighters.
When I died they washed me out of the turret with a hose.


ANALYSIS
The poem has deeper meaning behind the texts but theoretically speaking, the author is just describing the things that happened to him from his mother's sleep.

(READER RESPONSE) There is Another Sky by Emily Dickinson

THEORY
READER RESPONSE
-Its meaning ultimately resides in the reader's mind or the consensual "mind" of a community of readers.
-Its texts have many interpretations.


TITLE | AUTHOR
THERE IS ANOTHER SKY BY EMILY DICKINSON


POEM
There is another sky,
Ever serene and fair,
And there is another sunshine,
Though it be darkness there;
Never mind faded forests, Austin,
Never mind silent fields -
Here is a little forest,
Whose leaf is ever green;
Here is a brighter garden,
Where not a frost has been;
In its unfading flowers
I hear the bright bee hum:
Prithee, my brother,
Into my garden come!


ANALYSIS
The poem is full of positive attitude towards life. 
No matter what might happen, always look at the bright side. 
This world is so beautiful. Our lives are so wonderful. 
We only need to open our eyes and our hearts to see and feel it.

(ROMANTICISM) Poor Liza by Nikolay Karamzin

THEORY
ROMANTICISM
-It elevated the achievements of what it perceived as heroic individualists and artists, whose pioneering examples would elevate society. 
-It also legitimized the individual imagination as a critical authority, which permitted freedom from classical notions of form in art.


TITLE | AUTHOR
POOR LIZA BY NIKOLAY KARAMZIN


SYNOPSIS
The subject of the story is the unhappy love of a poor peasant girl, Liza, for a rich young nobleman, Erast. The girl lives with her mother in a small house not far from the monastery. Liza was born into a wealthy peasant family (her father worked hard), but soon after her father’s death, she and her mother grew poor. One day while selling flowers in Moscow she meets a young nobleman. Liza’s purity and charm fascinate Erast, who sees in her, in my opinion, an opportunity, at least for a while, to partake of the innocence and simplicity so lacking in his city life. Karamzin’s portrayal of Liza, however, starts with contextualizing the relations of exploitation between Moscow and the countryside that was conventional in the XVIIIth-century Russia.

There is something in Erast that attracted Liza so much, and she falls in love with him. Their love affair progresses in the spirit of the idyll, in the heart of nature. 

Liza’s tragedy is that she kills herself, she drowns in the river, while Erast lives with his weakness and choice. He chose to go to war. War is violence about capital, power, and resources and in the army he lost all his wealth. Because of that, he decides to marry a rich widow even though his heart aches for Liza.


ANALYSIS
The narration of the story is very interesting.
The author provides abundant information about himself in the retelling of Liza's story as he constantly expresses his own opinions.
The story presents the sentimentalism as Karamzin shows her affection to the character of Liza and his life.
I believe that there is more in "Poor Liza" than the love story of Liza and Erast.
The "sentimentalism" of the whole story is what made it fall under the theory of Romanticism.

(FEMINISM) The Great Gilly Hopkins by Katherine Paterson

THEORY
FEMINISM
-It studies women's unique ways of understanding and writing about human condition.
-It looks for systems of containment: for evidence of repression, oppression, suppression, subversion and rebellion in texts by women.
-Its meaning is socially constructed.


TITLE | AUTHOR
THE GREAT GILLY HOPKINS BY KATHERINE PATERSON


SYNOPSIS
Gilly Hopkins is a mean, brash young girl who is going to another foster home. She hates living with different people all the time and just wants to settle in with her birth mother Courtney Rutherford Hopkins. While living at Trotter's home, Gilly initially gets into trouble as usual. Gilly doesn't like how Trotter (her foster mom) looks, and she quickly decides she is going to hate her for the rest of her life. Gilly quickly hatches a plan to escape. She knows that her mother lives in San Francisco so she writes a letter to Courtney saying that her beloved Galadriel will be with her soon. When Gilly escapes the first time, she gets caught by some police people at the train station and Trotter is to immediately come down to the station to retrieve her. Gilly was really disapppointed because she really wanted to go to her Mother. After some days have passed, Gilly's grandmother, Nonnie comes to Trotters house and tells her that she will come and take her home. But now Gilly realizes that she really wants to be with Trotter. Unfortunately, Gilly has to get picked up by Nonnie, and she goes to Nonnie's house. Then Gilly has good news: her mother Courtney is coming. But when she goes to the airport, Courtney is not the Courtney she remembers: Courtney has become fat, her hair color got whiter, and a lot of other things Gilly didn't expect. Gilly also finds out that her mother only came because Nonnie paid her, not because she wanted to come. She realizes for the first time, how foolish she had been, and who she really loved was Trotter.


ANALYSIS
I’d say that the story is highly appealing and should be recommended especially to kids beginning to rebel, for them to realize the real worth of their parents and other people around them.
Theoretically speaking, feminism has been proved all throughout the story-on how a rebellious girl learned how to resolve her issues in life and learn how to love and be loved. The ending is very satisfying with a very good moral lesson to learn. Paterson never fail to share the moral values to everyone.

Sabado, Enero 26, 2013

(AUTOBIOGRAPHICAL FICTION) Lavengro by George Borrow

THEORY
AUTOBIOGRAPHICAL FICTION
- It incorporates the author's own experience into the narrative.
-It allows the author to both rely and reflect on their own experience. However, the reading of autobiographical fiction need not always be associated with the author himself, rather can be treated as distinct fictional works.


TITLE | AUTHOR
LAVENGRO BY GEORGE BORROW


SYNOPSIS
Its protagonist, whose name is never mentioned, is born the son of an officer in a militia regiment and is brought up in various barrack towns in England, Scotland and Ireland. After serving an apprenticeship to a lawyer he moves to London and becomes a Grub Streethack, an occupation which gives him ample opportunities to observe London low-life. Finally he takes to the road as a tinker. At various points through the book he associates with Romany travellers, of whom he gives memorable and generally sympathetic pen-portraits.

Lavengro was followed by a sequel, The Romany Rye. However, neither of the two books are self-contained. Rather, Lavengro ends abruptly with chapter 100, and carries on directly in the The Romney Rye. Thus both need to be read together, in order.


ANALYSIS
It could be considered as an autobiographical fiction in a way it is written by the author. 
Honestly, the book is impossible to classify because it is taken in the form of autobiography yet it has fictional elements. But I think it is a good idea to come up with mix fact and fiction cause it enables the reader to go beyond what they see in reality. It's truly incredible how Borrow see the world ~
I suggest you to read the three novels in order to know the real story and fully appreciate the work because some scenes that seemed to be escaped has been revealed on the other books. 

(EXISTENTIALISM) The State of Siege by Albert Camus

THEORY
EXISTENTIALISM
-The philosophical movement which emphasizes on individual existence, freedom and choice.
-It believes that the individual is accountable for their own actions and for giving meaning to their lives, despite the difficulties humans face.


TITLE | AUTHOR
THE STATE OF SIEGE BY ALBERT CAMUS


SYNOPSIS
Set in the Spanish town of Cadiz, The State of Siege is a play in three parts. In the first part a comet presages disaster for Cadiz . This disaster is the plague, depicted as a uniformed man accompanied by a female secretary Death . Plague takes over the city and Death takes names. Anyone who resists is struck off and struck down. The allegory is obvious, Plague is totalitarianism and death its faithful servant. Cadiz is closed down as Oran was in Camus' novel The Plague. In the second part we see Diego attempt to organize resistance but this fails and in act of desperation he takes an innocent hostage, sinking to the level of his enemy. In the third part we see a more effective resistance and Death hands over her book to the people who eagerly start crossing off the names of people they don't like, thus eliminating their enemies. How will Diego stop the bloodshed, reminiscent of the revenge attacks after the Liberation, and defeat the Plague and Death?


ANALYSIS
Albert Camus is known as a co-founder of Existentialism.
The play is trying to imply that if only people have enough courage to fight against the oppressors, they can definitely win but if they would allow the oppressors to victimize them, they would just become slaves.
Like what Existentialism believes, an individual is accountable for his actions- that's what the story is trying to prove.

(HUMANISM) Cry Shame! by Gore Vidal

THEORY
HUMANISM
-The focus of the humanist theory is MAN.
-It "requires" that the piece present man as essentially rational; that is endowed with intellect and free will.


TITLE | AUTHOR
CRY SHAME!  BY GORE VIDAL


SYNOPSIS
Cry Shame! is the story of Graziella Serrano, the ambitious daughter of Mexico’s greatest lion tamer.

This is how young Graziella’s first sexual experience – when she is 14 pretending to be 18 – is described: She was often surprised, when she thought of it, how little this experience with George Wilson had meant to her. Always before, when she’d dreamed of such an act, she had associated all sorts of romantic things with it, or, if not romantic things, at least shocking ones, in which she felt that her entire life would be changed, everything would show in her face and she would be — if not transformed and uplifted — degraded. 

Graziella is ambitious, and she wants to be a star. In a Monterrey bar the 14 year old dances without her parent’s permission – it’s not stripping, though, but flamenco. Here she learns to drink hard and play fast. And here she meets a rich older man, Jason Carter, whom she eventually marries, but only when her brother finds out about her moonlighting and she decides to flee Monterrey. 

Cut to: 4 years later, Graziella is now 18. It’s the 1930s, but in a Hollywood that the Depression does not touch, and she has been studying ballet for 4 years. Carter knows the truth about her age by this time, although like everyone else he thought she was 18 when she was 14. 

On this auspicious day Graziella meets her first homosexuals on the beach, and with them her first Hollywood mogul. She charms, flirts, and ends up being cast in a film. Graziella is then transformed into Grace Carter, a woman who, in the style of her creator, has a tendency to dream about a blond, blue-eyed dream man who would one day be her true love. 

When Grace meets her blond, the actor Eric Davis, she is a little too haughty and self-possessed to realise that this could turn into Love. Eric Davis was a medium-sized young man with short blond curly hair, vivid blue eyes and features which, in life, were nondescript but which, on the screen, became oddly sensual for one so fair. His body looked well-developed under the correct, impeccable tuxedo he wore. His face was only slightly made up and his hair was carefully disarranged. He looked very boyish and windblown; he grinned at her when they were introduced. At first she thinks he is a stupid, but eventually she falls madly in love. 

Grace invites Eric to Reno, where she is in the process of divorcing the kindly plot-device-disguised-as-character Jason Carter. Eric mounts her awkwardly. “It was accomplished with such violence that she was almost sick in her ecstasy. She had never known anything like this. She had never known there could be such violence in the world.” How very Barbara Cartland-esque. Eric then admits it’s his first time with a woman. But not his first time. Grace is confused. “I’ve played the field an awful lot. But this is my first time at this sort of thing,” Eric explains. The penny drops. “She was stunned. She had had no inkling about this. She had no idea he was like so many of the others. He seemed so ordinary and so masculine, so very much the typical American boy: she found it impossible to believe.” Plus it turns out he does have a “well-developed” body hiding under his clothes. The shame! When she does not get what she wants, Grace spirals downward, and this leads to … well, it would spoil the book to say exactly what it led to :P


ANALYSIS
The whole story focuses on the life of an ambitious Latina girl. Her passion for dancing brought her to the light of stardom.She met many people along the way, who teach her life lessons.
The fact that the story focuses on human nature is enough reason to classify this as an example of Humanism.
It's actually hard to find information about the novel but it's worth the time once you get to know what the whole story is all about.

(MARXISM) A Daughter of Revolution by John Reed

THEORY
MARXISM
-It looks for evidence of oppressive ideologies of the dominant social group.
-It looks  for issues and abuses of power.


TITLE | AUTHOR
A DAUGHTER OF REVOLUTION BY JOHN REED


PLOT
That night there was one of those Paris rains, which never seem to wet one as other rains do. We sat on the terrasse of the Rotonde, at the corner table—it was a warm night, though November-Fred, Marcelle and I, sipping a Dubonnet. The cafes all closed at eight sharp because of the war, and we used to stay until then almost every night before we went to dinner.

Next to us was a young French officer with his head done up in a bandage, and his arm comfortably around Jeanne’s green-caped shoulder. Beatrice and Alice were farther down along under the glare of the yellow lights. Behind us we could peek through a slit in the window-curtain and survey the smoke-tilled room inside, an uproarious band of men sandwiched between girls, beating on the table and singing, the two old Frenchmen at their tranquil chess-game, an absorbed student writing a letter home, his amie’s head on his shoulder, five utter strangers and the waiter listening breathlessly to the tales of a muddy-legged soldier back from the front....

The yellow lights flooded us, and splashed the shining black pavement with gold; human beings with umbrellas Bowed by in a steady stream; a ragged old wreck of a man poked furtively for cigarette-butts under our feet; out in the roadway the shuffling feet of men marching fell unheeded upon our accustomed ears, and dripping slanted bayonets passed athwart a beam of light from across the Boulevard Montparnasse.

This year all the girls at the Rotonde dressed alike. They had little round hats, hair cut short, low-throated waists and long capes down to their feet, the ends tossed over their shoulders Spanish- fashion. Marcelle was the image of the others. Besides, her lips were painted scarlet, her cheeks dead white, and she talked obscenities when she wasn’t on her dignity, and sentimentalities when she was. She had regaled us both with the history of her very rich and highly respectable family, of the manner of her tragic seduction by a Duke, of her innate virtue—and had remarked proudly that she was no common ordinary street-walker....

At this particular instant she was interlarding a running fire of highly-flavored comment upon what passed before her eyes with appeals for money in a harshened little voice; and I thought to myself that we had got to the bottom of Marcelle. Her comments upon things and persons were pungent, vigorous, original—but they palled after while; a strain of recklessness and unashamed love of life held only a little longer. Marcelle was already soiled with too much handling....

We heard a violent altercation, and a tall girl with a bright orange sweater came out from the cafe, followed by a waiter gesticulating and exclaiming:

“But the eight anisettes which you ordered, nom de Dieu!”

“I have told you I would pay,” she shrilled over her shoulder. “I am going to the Dome for some money,” and she ran across the shiny street. The waiter stood looking after her, moodily jingling the change in his pockets.

“No use waiting,” shouted Marcelle, “There is another door to the Dome on the Rue Delambre!” But the waiter paid no attention; he had paid the caisse for the drinks. And, as a matter of fact, the girl never reappeared.

“That is an old trick,” said Marcelle to us. “It is easy when you have no money to get a drink from the waiters, for they dare not ask for your money until afterward. It is a good thing to know now in time of war, when the men are so few and so poor."....

“But the waiter!"objected Fred. “He must make his living!”

Marcelle shrugged. “And we ours,” she said.

“There used to be a belle type around the Quarter,” she continued after a minute, “who called herself Marie. She had beautiful hair—épatante,—and she loved travelling.... Once she found herself on a Mediterranean boat bound for Egypt without a sou,—nothing except the clothes on her back. A monsieur passed her as she leaned against the rail, and said,’You have marvellous hair, mademoiselle.

“’I will sell it to you for a hundred francs,’ she Bashed back. And she cut off all her beautiful hair and went to Cairo, where she met an English lord... .”

The waiter heaved a prodigious sigh, shook his head sadly, and went indoors. We were silent, and thought of dinner. The rain fell.

I don’t know how it happened, but Fred began to whistle absent-mindedly the Carmagnole. I wouldn’t have noticed it except that I heard a voice chime in, and looked around to see the wounded French officer, whose arm had fallen idly from the shoulder of Jeanne, staring blankly across the pavement, and humming the Carmagnole. What visions was he seeing, this sensitive-faced youth in the uniform of his country’s army, singing the song of revolt! Even as I looked, he caught himself up short, looked self-conscious and startled, glanced swiftly at us, and rose quickly to his feet, dragging Jeanne with him.

At the same instant Marcelle clutched Fred roughly by the arm.

“It’s défendu—you’ll have us all pinched,” she cried, with something so much stronger than fear in her eyes that I was interested. “And, besides, don’t sing those dirty songs. They are revolutionary—they are sung by voyous—poor people—ragged men—-”

“Then you are not a revolutionist yourself?” I asked.

“I? B’en no, I swear to you!” she shook her head passionately. “The méhants, the villains, who want to overturn everything—!” Marcelle shivered.

“Look here, Marcelle! Are you happy in this world the way it is? What does the System do for you, except to turn you out on the street to sell yourself?” Fred was launched now on a boiling flood of propaganda. “When the red day comes, I know which side of the Barricades I shall be on—!”



Marcelle began to laugh. It was a bitter laugh. It was the first time I had ever seen her un-self-conscious.

“Ta gueule, my friend,” she interrupted rudely. “I know that talk ! I have heard it since I was so high.... I know!” She stopped and laughed to herself, and wrenched out—"MY grandfather was shot against a wall at Père Lachaise for carrying a red Bag in the Commune in 1870.” She started, looked at us shame-facedly, and grinned. “There, you see I come of a worthless family....”

“Your grandfather!” shouted Fred.

“Pass for my grandfather,” said Marcelle indifferently. “Let the crazy, dirty-handed old fool rest in his grave. I have never spoken of him before, and I shall burn no candles for his soul....”

Fred seized her hand. He was exalted. “God bless your grandfather!”

With the quick wit of her profession, she divined that, for some mysterious reason, she had pleased. For answer she began to sing in a low voice the last lines of the Internationale.

“C’est la lutte finale—-” She coquetted with Fred.

“Tell us more about your grandfather,” I asked.

“There is no more to tell,” said Marcelle, half-ashamed, half-pleased, wholly ironical. “He was a wild man from God knows where. He had no father and mother. He was a stone-mason, and people say a fine workman. But he wasted his time in reading books, and he was always on strike. He was a savage, and always roaring ‘Down with the Government and the rich!’ People called him ‘Le Farrou.’ I remember my father telling how the soldiers came to take him from his house to be shot. My father was a lad of fourteen, and he hid my grandfather under a mattress of the bed. But the soldiers poked their bayonets in there and one went through his shoulder—so they saw the blood. Then my grandfather made a speech to the soldiers—he was always making speeches—and asked them not to murder the Commune.... But they only laughed at him—-” And Marcelle laughed, for it was amusing.

“But my father—” she went on; “Heavens ! He was even worse. I can remember the big strike at the Creusot works.—wait a minute,—it was the year of the Great Exposition. My father helped to make that strike. My brother was then just a baby,—eight years he had, and he was already working as poor children do. And in the parade of all the strikers, suddenly my father heard a little voice shouting to him across the ranks,—it was my little brother, marching with a red flag, like one of the comrades!

“’Hello, old boy!’ he called to my father. ’Ca ira!’

“They shot many workmen in that strike.” Marcelle shook her head viciously. “Ugh ! The scum !”

Fred and I stirred, and found that we had been chilled from resting in one position. We beat on the window and ordered cognac.

“And now you have heard enough of my miserable family,” said Marcelle, with an attempt at lightness.

“Go on,” said Fred hoarsely, fixing her with gleaming eyes.

“But you’re going to take me to dinner, n’est-ce pas?” insinuated Marcelle. I nodded. “Pardié!” she went on, with a grin. “It was not like this that my father dined—hè! After my grandfather died, my old man could get no work. He was starving, and went from house to house begging food. But they shut the door in his face, the women of my grandfather’s comrades, saying ‘Give him nothing, the salaud; he is the son of Le Farrou, who was shot.’ And my father sneaked around the cafe tables, like a dog, picking up crusts to keep his soul and body together. It has taught me much,” said Marcelle, shaking her short hair. “To keep always in good relations with those who feed you. It is why I do not steal from the waiter like that girl did; and I tell everybody that my family was respectable. They might make me suffer for the sins of my father, as he did for his father’s.”

Light broke upon me, and once more the puzzling baseness of humanity justified itself. Here was the key to Marcelle, her weakness, her vileness. It was not vice, then, that had twisted her, but the intolerable degradation of the human spirit by the masters of the earth, the terrible punishment of those who thirst for liberty.

“I can remember,” she said, “how, after the Creusot strike was ended, the bosses got rid of their troublesome workmen. It was winter, and for weeks we had had only wood that my mother gathered in the fields, to keep us warm-and a little bread and coffee that the Union gave us. I wasn’t but four years old. My father decided to go to Paris, and we started—walking. He carried me on his shoulder, and with the other a little bundle of clothes. My mother carried another—but she had already tuberculoSis, and had to rest every hour. My brother came behind.... We went along the white, straight road, with the light snow lying on it, between the high naked poplars. Two days and a night.... We huddled down in a deserted roadmender’s hut, my mother coughing, coughing. Then out again before the sun rose, tramping along through the snow, my father and my brother shouting revolutionary cries, and singing.‘Dansons la Carmagnole
‘Vive le son—Vive le son—
‘Dansona la Carmagnole
‘Vive le son du canon!’ “

Marcelle had raised her voice unconsciously as she sang the forbidden song; her cheeks flushed, her eyes snapped, she stamped her foot. Suddenly she broke off and looked fearfully around. No one had noticed, however.

“My brother had a high, little voice like a girl, and my father used to break off laughing as he looked down at his son stamping sturdily along beside him, and roaring out songs of hate like an old striker.

“’Allons! Petit cheminot,—you little tramp you! I’ll bet the police will know you some day!’ And he would slap him on the back. It made my mother turn pale, and sometimes at night she would slip out of bed and go to the corner where my brother slept, and wake him up to tell him, weeping, that he must always grow up to be a good man. Once my father woke up and caught her.... But that was later, at Paris....

“And they would sing—‘Debout freres de misere!
(Up ! Brothers of misery !)
‘Ne voulons plus de frontieres
(We want no more frontiers)
‘Pour egorger la bourgeoisie
(To loot the bourgeoisie)
‘Et supprimer la tyrranie
(And suppress tyranny)
‘Il faut avoir du coeur
(We must have heart)
‘Et de l’energie!’
(And energy!)

“And then my father would look ahead with flashing eyes, marching as if he were an army. Every time his eyes sashed like that, my mother would tremble,—for it meant some reckless and terrible fight with the police, or a bloody strike, and she feared for him.... And I know how she must have felt, for she was law-abiding, like me —and my father, he was no good.” Marcelle shuddered, and gulped her cognac at one swallow.

“I really did not begin myself to know things until we came to Paris,” she went on, “because then I began to grow up. My first memory, almost, is when my father led the big strike at Thirion’s, the coal-yard down there on the avenue de Maine, and came home with his arm broken where the police had struck him. After that it was work, strike,—work, strike,—with little to eat at our house and my mother growing weaker until she died. My father married again, a religious woman, who finally took to going continually to church and praying for his immortal soul....

“Because she knew how fiercely he hated God. He used to come home at night every week after the meeting of the Union, his eyes shining like stars, roaring blasphemies through the streets. He was a terrible man. He was always the leader. I remember when he went out to assist at a demonstration on Montmartre. It was before the Sacre Coeur, the big white church you see up there on the top of the mountain, looking over all Paris. You know the statue of the Chevalier de la Barre just below it? It is of a young man in ancient times who refused to salute a religious procession; a priest broke his arm with the cross they carried, and he was burned to death by the Inquisition. He stands there in chains, his broken arm hanging by his side, his head lifted so,—proudly. Eh b’en, the workingmen were demonstrating against the Church, or something, I don’t know what. They had speeches. My father stood upon the steps of the basilica and suddenly the curé of the church appeared. My father cried, in a voice of thunder, ’A bas the priests! That pig burned him to death I he pointed to the statue. ‘To the Lanterne with him! Hang him! Then they all began to shout and surge toward the steps,—and the police charged the crowd with revolvers.... Well, my father came home that night all covered with blood, and hardly able to drag himself along the street.

“My step-mother met him at the door, very angry, and said,’Well, where have you been, you good-for-nothing?’

“ ‘At a manifestation, quoi!’ he growled.

“’It serves you right,’ she said. ‘I hope you’re cured now.’

“’Cured?’ he shouted, roaring through the bloody toothlessness of his mouth. ‘Until the next time. Ca ira!’

“And true enough, it was at the guillotining of Leboeuf that the cuirassiers charged the Socialists, and they carried my father home with a sabre cut in his head.”

Marcelle leaned over with a cigarette in her mouth to light it from Fred’s.

“They called him Casse-tete Poisot—the Headbreaker, and he was a hard man.... How he hated the Government! ... Once I came home from school and told him that they had taught us to sing the Marseillaise.

“ ‘If I ever catch you singing that damned traitors’ song around here,’ he cried at me, doubling up his fist,’I’ll crack your face open.’ “

To my eyes came the picture of this coarse, narrow, sturdy old warrior, scarred with the marks of a hundred vain, ignoble fights with police, reeling home through squalid streets after Union meeting, his eyes blazing with visions of a regenerated humanity.

“And your brother?” asked Fred.

“Oh, he was even worse than my father,” said Marcelle, laughing. “You could talk to my father about some things, but there were things that you could not talk to my brother about at all. Even when he was a little boy he did dreadful things. He would say,’After school come to meet me at such and such a church,—I want to pray.’ I would meet him on the steps and we would go in together and kneel down. And when I was praying, he would suddenly jump up and run shouting around the church, kicking over the chairs and smashing the candles burning in the chapels.... And whenever he saw a cure’ in the street, he marched along right behind him crying,’A bas les calolres! A bas les calories!’Twenty times he was arrested, and even put in the Reformatory. But he always escaped. When he had but fifteen years he ran away from the house and did not come back for a year. One day he walked into the kitchen where we were all having breakfast.



“’Good morning,’ he said, as if he had never gone away. ‘Cold morning, isn’t it?’

“My step-mother screamed.

“’I have been to see the world,’ he went on. ‘I came back because I didn’t have any money and was hungry.’ My father never scolded him, but just let him stay. In the daytime he hung around the cafes on the corner, and did not come home at night until after midnight. Then one morning he disappeared again, without a word to anyone. In three months he was back again, starving. My step-mother told my father that he ought to make the boy work, that it was hard enough with a lazy, fighting man to provide for. But my father only laughed.

“’Leave him alone,’ he said. ‘He knows what he’s doing. There’s good fighting blood in him.’

“My brother went off and came back like that until he was almost eighteen. In the last period, before he settled down in Paris, he would most always work until he had collected enough money to go away. Then he finally got a steady job in a factory here, and married....

“He had a fine voice for singing, and could hold people dumb with the way he sang revolutionary songs. At night, after his work was finished, he used to tie a big red handkerchief around his neck and go to some music hall or cabaret. He would enter, and while some singer was giving a song from the stage, he would suddenly lift up his voice and burst out into the Ca ira or the Internationale. The singer on the stage would be forced to stop, and all the audience would turn and watch my brother, up there in the top benches of the theatre.

“When he had finished, he would cry ‘How do you like that?’ and then they would cheer and applaud him. Then he would shout ‘Everybody say with me “Down with the Capitalists! A bas the police! To the Lanterne with the flics!"’ Then there would be some cheers and some whistles. ‘Did I hear somebody whistle me!’ he’d cry. ‘I’ll meet anybody at the door outside who dared to whistle me!’ And afterward he would fight ten or fifteen men in a furious mob in the street outside, until the police came....

“He, too, was always leading strikes, but had a laughing, gallant way that made all the comrades love him..’. He might perhaps some day have been a deputy, if my father had not taught him lawlessness when he was young—-”

“Where is he now?” asked Fred.

“Down there in the trenches somewhere.” She waved her arm vaguely Eastward. “He had to go with the others when the war broke out, though he hated the Army so. When he did his military service, it was awful. He would never obey. For almost a year he was in prison. Once he decided to be promoted, and within a month they made him corporal, he was so intelligent.... But the very first day he refused to command the soldiers of his squad....’Why should I give orders to these comrades?’ he shouted. ‘One orders me to command them to dig a trench. Yoyons,are they slaves?’ So they degraded him to the ranks. Then he organized a revolt, and advised them to shoot their officers.... The men themselves were so insulted, they threw him over a wall.—So terribly he hated war! When the Three Year Military Law was up in the Chamber, it was he who led the mob to the Palais Bourbon.... And now he must go to kill the Boches, like the others. Perhaps he himself is dead.—I do not know, I have heard nothing.” And then irrelevantly, “He has a little son five years old.”

Three generations of fierce, free blood, struggling indefatigably for a dim dream of liberty. And now a fourth in the cradle! Did they know why they struggled? No matter. It was a thing deeper than reason, an instinct of the human spirit which neither force nor persuasion could ever uproot.

“And you, Marcelle?” I asked.

“I?” She laughed. “Shall I tell you that I was not seduced by a Duke?” She gave a bitter little chuckle. “Then you will not respect me—for I notice that you friends of passage want your vice seasoned with romance. But it is true. It has not been romantic. In that hideousness and earnestness of our life, I always craved joy and happiness. I always wanted to laugh, be gay, even when I was a baby. I used to imagine drinking champagne, and going to the theatre, and I wanted jewels, fine dresses, automobiles. Very early my father noticed that my tastes led that way; he said,’I see that you want to throw everything over and sell yourself to the rich. Let me tell you now, that the first fault you commit, I’ll put you out the door and call you my daughter no more.’

“It became intolerable at home. My father could not forgive women who had lovers without being married. He kept saying that I was on the way to sin—and when I grew older, I wasn’t permitted to leave the house without my step-mother. As soon as I was old enough, he hurried to find me a husband, to save me. One day he came home and said that he had found one—a pale young man who limped, the son of a restaurant-keeper on the same street. I knew him; he was not bad, but I couldn’t bear to think of marrying. I wanted so much to be free.” We started, Fred and I. “Free !” Wasn’t that what the old man had fought for so bitterly?

“So that night,” she said, “I got out of bed and put on my Sunday dress, and my everday dress over that, and ran away. All night I walked around the streets, and all the next day. That evening, trembling, I went to the factory where my brother worked and waited for him to come out. I did not know whether or not he would give me up to my father. But soon he came along, shouting and singing with some comrades. He spied me.

“’Well, old girl, what brings you here?’ he cried, taking my arm. ‘Trouble?’ I told him I had run away. He stood off and looked at me. ‘You haven’t eaten,’ he said. ‘Come home with me and meet my wife. You’ll like her. We’ll all have dinner together!’ So I did. His wife was wonderful. She met me with open arms, and they showed me the baby, just a month old....And so fat! All was warm and happy there in that house. I remember that she cooked the dinner herself, and never have I eaten such a dinner! They did not ask me anything until I had eaten, and then my brother lighted a cigarette and gave me one. I was afraid to smoke, for my step-mother had said it was to bring hell on a woman.... But the wife smiled at me and took one herself.

“ ‘Now,’ said my brother.’What are your plans?’ “ ‘I have none,’ I answered. ‘I must be free. I want gaiety, and lovely clothes. I want to go to the theatre. I want to drink champagne.’

“His wife shook her head sadly.

“’I have never heard of any work for a that will give her those things,’ she said.

“ ‘Do you think I want work?’ I burst out. ‘Do you think I want to slave out my life in a factory for ten francs a week, or strut around in other women’s gowns at some couturiere’s on the Rue de la Paix? Do you think I will take orders from anyone? No, I want to be free!’

“My brother looked at me gravely for a long time. Then he said,’We are of the same blood. It would do no good to argue with you, or to force you. Each human being must work out his own life. You shall go and do whatever you want. But I want you to know that whenever you are hungry, or discouraged, or deserted, that my house is always open to you—that you will always be welcome here, for as long as you want.’...”

Marcelle wiped her eyes roughly with the back of her hand.

“I stayed there that night, and the next day I went around the city and talked with girls in the cafes—like I am now. They advised me to work, if I wanted a steady lover; so I went into a big department score for a month. Then I had a lover, an Argentine, who gave me beautiful clothes and took me to the theatre. Never have I been so happy!

“One night when we were going to the theatre —as we passed by my brother’s house, I thought I would stop in and let him know how wonderful I found life. I had on a blue charmeuse gown—I remember it now, it was lovely! Slippers with very high heels and brilliants on the buckles, white gloves, a big hat with a black ostrich feather, and a veil. Luckily the veil was down; for as I entered the door of my brother’s tenement, my father stood there on the steps ! He looked at me, I stopped. My heartstood still. But I could see he did not recognize me.

“’Va t’en” he shouted. ‘What is your kind doing here, in a workingman’s house? What do you mean by coming here to insult us with your silks and your feathers, sweated out of poor men in mills and their consumptive wives, their dying children? Go away, you whore!’

“I was terrified that he might recognize me!

“It was only once more that I saw him. My lover left me, and I had other lovers.... My brother and his wife went out to live near my father, in St. Denis. I used sometimes to go out and spend the night with them, to play with the baby, who grew so fast. Those were really happy times. And I used to leave again at dawn, to avoid meeting my father. One morning I left brother’s house, and as I came onto the street, I saw my father, going to work at dawn with his lunch pail! He had not seen my face. There was nothing to do but walk down the street ahead of him. It was about five o’clock—few people were about. He came along behind me, and soon I noticed that he was walking faster. Then he said in a low voice, ‘Mademoiselle, wait for me. We are going the same direction, hein? I hurried. ‘You are pretty, mademoiselle. And I am not old. Can’t ne go together some place?’ I was in a panic. I was so full of horror and of fear that he might see my face. I did not dare to turn up a side street, for he would have seen my profile. So I walked straight ahead—straight ahead for hours, for miles.... I do not know when he stopped.... I do not know if now he might be dead.... My brother said he never spoke of me....”

She ceased, and the noises of the street became again apparent to our ears, that had been so long deaf to them, with double their former loudness. Fred was excited.

“Marvelous, by God!” he cried, thumping the table. “The same blood, the same spirit ! And see how the revolution becomes sweeter, broader, from generation to generation! See how the brother understood freedom in a way which the old father was blind to!”

Marcelle shot him an astonished look. “What do you mean?” she asked.

“Your father—fighting all his life for liberty—yet turned you out because you wanted your liberty.”

“Oh, but you don’t understand,” said Marcelle. “I did wrong. I am bad. If I had a daughter who was like me, I should do the same thing, if she had a frivolous character.”

“Can’t you see?” cried Fred. “Your father wanted liberty for men, but not for women!”

“Naturally,” she shrugged. “Men and women are different. My father was right. Women must be respectable!”

“The women need another generation,” sighed Fred, sadly.

I took Marcelle’s hand.

“Do you regret it?” I asked her.

“Regret my life?” she Bashed back, tossing her head proudly, “Dame, no ! I’m free! ...”


First Published: February 1915 in The Masses
Transcribed: Sally Ryan January, 2001
source: http://www.marxists.org/archive/reed/1915/prost.htm



ANALYSIS
To know the story is also to understand what Marxism is. 
I'd say that this is one of John Reed's best works which best proves the theory of Marxism, along with Ten Days that Shook The World which is highly recommended.