Revising your essays

As we've gone on, I've gotten a clearer idea of how I think your essays could be improved.  In your revision, I'd like you to rewrite at least two paragraphs, and focus on including your reflections in the moment.  In other words, your essays should still be thoughtful, should reflect on how you were influenced by the experience you describe, and should mention either The Scarlet Letter or Whitman or Dickinson--but those reflections should come in the context of a particular moment...  We'll talk about this in class.

In-The-Moment Personal Essay

 REVISION OF A PERSONAL ESSAY                                               

You have written, under time constraints, two personal essays: one, a month ago, about a time you felt deeply, or thought deeply, the way Hester thought deeply in The Scarlet Letter; the other last week, when you wrote a personal essay in response to either a Whiman poem or a Dickinson poem—for most, that essay was about the way some external thing affected you internally.

Now I’d like you to drastically revise and somewhat expand one of those essays into a more considered work.  If you want to, you can start over from scratch and write about something new, but I would recommend using what you did before as a brainstorming session at least.

All but a very, very few of the essays I read seemed to me to have the same weakness, and could be improved in the same way, by making them much more focused on specific moments, by moving down to the bottom rungs of the ladder of abstraction and the ladder of temporal speed, so that as much as possible you write about particular sensory details at a moment-by-moment speed, with very little in the way of abstraction or summary.

All language is based to some extent on abstraction, of course, and we can never match the speed of our writing exactly to the speed of our living (though I think Nabokov claims that Tolstoy comes close on that second score), but what I mean is the difference between:

I used to be a great soccer player.  From the time I was seven, it was a part of my identity.  I loved to run, to kick and to win.  My nickname was Pele,  When I broke my leg just after scoring the winning goal in a game against Needham last fall, it was like my whole world changed.  I couldn’t run around the way I used to do, and maybe I never would again.  Instead I sat at home and streamed really bad movies on Netflix.  My mom made me tea and I popped painkillers like they were popcorn.  My body was in pain anyway, and my mind was in pain, too.  I was numb. I wasn’t a soccer star anymore.  Maybe I would never be a soccer player again. I couldn’t even remember what it was like to kick a soccer ball.

and this:

I sprinted in from the left and leaped into the air, scissoring my legs and kicking the ball.  I just had time to see the ball sail into the upper left corner of the net, and to wonder how I was going to land—on my back?—when a guy on the other team slammed into my legs, sending me spinning like a pinwheel flicked with a fingernail.  I flipped around; when I hit the ground my left leg was at an awkward angle.  Just at that moment, a different guy on the other team slammed into me, and my lower leg snapped like a toothpick. 

As the sun set three days later, I was lying in bed, in pain, popping  painkillers like they were popcorn while Home Alone 3 played in low-resolution on the screen of the iPad that rested on my good leg.

Maybe that second passage isn’t as good—but it’s the kind of thing I want you to aim for.

Rough revised draft due: Mon/Tues, 12.19/20.11                        

Final Draft due: Thursday, 12/22/11

Author list so far...

Below are the 22 authors we've learned about and read.  Biographical tidbits not included.

Neo-classical  (or: Puritanism and Enlightenment)

(Colonial-era Poetry)
Anne Bradstreet (1612?-1692), "The Prologue," from The Tenth Muse Lately Sprung Up in America
Phyllis Wheatley (1753-1784), "On Being Brought from Africa to America"
Philip Freneau (1752-1832), "The Indian Burying-Ground"

(Captivity Narratives)
Mary Rowlandson (1637-1711), The Sovereignty and Goodness of God

Jonathan Edwards (1703-1758), Personal Narrative; Sinners in the Hands of an Angry God; Resolutions

Benjamin Franklin (1706-1790), from Autobiography -- and his critics:
    (Max Weber, The Protestant Ethic and the Spirit of Capitalism, 1905)
    (D. H. Lawrence Studies in Classic American Literature, 1923)

Romanticism (including the American Renaissance/transcendentalism)

(Seduction Novels/Gothic Novels)
Susannah Rowson (1762-1824), Charlotte Temple
Charles Brockden Brown (1771-1810), Wieland

James Fenimore Cooper (1789-1851), The Last of the Mohicans

Nathaniel Hawthorne (1804-1864), The Scarlet Letter

Edgar Allan Poe (1809-1849), "The Black Cat"; "The Purloined Letter"; "The Tell-Tale Heart"; "The Raven"

Henry David Thoreau (1817-1862), Walden
Ralph Waldo Emerson (1803-1882), "Self-Reliance"; "Nature" etc.

H. W. Longfellow (1807-1882), Hiawatha, "The Midnight Ride of Paul Revere," etc.

Walt Whitman (1819-1892), "Song of Myself"; "There Was a Child Went Forth"; "I Hear America Singing"; etc.
Emily Dickinson (1830-1886), I'm Nobody; Much Madness is Divinest Sense; Wild Nights; etc.

Herman Melville (1819-1891), “Bartleby the Scrivener,” Moby Dick
Harriet Beecher Stowe (1811-1896), Uncle Tom's Cabin

Regionalism/Realism 

Mark Twain (1835-1910), The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn

Interesting interpretations of

For Wednesday, your homework is to find three (or two, if you write about them in a comment on this post) interesting interpretations of some aspect of a text (book or movie).  These interpretations could be ones you got from someone else, or they could be your own. (Assuming they're not yours, let us know where you got the interpretations--your friend, an article, a website, whatever.)

One way to think about interpretation is that it involves applying to a text an outside framework or paradigm, or seeing it through a particular lens.  For example, you can look apply to "Bartleby" a religious framework, or a political framework, or a philosophical framework , etc.  Or, for a non-Bartleby example: examining Twilight within the framework of domestic abuse leads to interesting interpretations.

NB: If you choose to write the interpretations you find on a piece of paper, you need to write down three of them; if you write them in a comment on this post, you only need do two.

Bartleby, the...

(Bartleby can be seen in many ways.  Below are some possibilities.  After you have read the end of the story, pick the following interpretation you prefer and write a brief comment about how some aspect of the end of the story fits with that interpretation.)

Artist/Writer? Melville himself had great success with his early, fairly conventional sea-faring novels (Typee, Omoo, etc.), but his later, more idiosyncratic books were commercial failures, and eventually Meville pretty much stopped writing.  You can see "Bartleby" as a self-portrait of Melville, a writer who didn't want to do any more "copying" of standard styles, a writer who preferred not to follow the conventions and needs of the marketplace.  If we see the story in this way, how does the end fit in?  Be specific.

Transcendentalist?  You can see B. as a parody or ideal of the philosophy of Emerson and Thoreau: he drops out of the world of commerce and follows his own whim entirely.  (In Emerson's essay, "The Transcendentalist"--in which Emerson outlines what his idea of a transcendentalist is: a person who is not a "materialist" but an "idealist"--Emerson says that there can be no such thing as a "pure" transcendentalist, but what he says about transcendentalists is surprisingly similar to Bartleby: "they are not good citizens, not good members of society; unwillingly they bear their part of the public and private burdens ...  [The Transcendentalist says:] Unless the action is necessary, unless it is adequate, I do not wish to perform it. I do not wish to do one thing but once. I do not love routine. ... we do not like your work. ... I can sit in a corner and perish, (as you call it,) but I will not move until I have the highest command."  If we see the story in this way, how does the end fit in?  Be specific.

Political Protester? It is possible to see Bartleby as the first member of Occupy Wall Street."  He exercises passive resistance in a Gandhi or MLK-like way, refusing to take part in a system that relegates him to meaningless drudgery.  If we see the story in this way, how does the end fit in?  Be specific.

Philosopher? We can see Bartleby as a Schopenhauerian precursor to the existentialists, one who has perhaps unconsciously pondered the first sentence of Albert Camus's essay, "The Myth of Sisyphus" ("There is but one truly serious philosophical problem and that is suicide") and has answered it in his own peculiar way.  The highest form of wisdom, according to Schopenhauer, is renunciation, not of life but of will, as in the holy ascetics--which perhaps brings us to Bartleby as a...


Jesus-figure? The parallels are in the story: Bartleby's arrival is referred to as his "advent"; the narrator decides not to deal harshly with Bartleby by recalling Jesus's teachings: "the divine injunction: 'A new commandment give I unto you, that ye love one another.'"  The narrator denies B. three times, just as Jesus is denied three times by Peter.  And so on.   If we see the story in this way, how does the end fit in?  Be specific.


Foil for the narrator? Some people see the narrator as the main character, and B. as important mainly for the light he throws on the narrator, who is in turn our representative: when we read, we see things more or less through the narrator's eyes and react more or less as he does.  Bartleby, then, shows us things about ourselves that we aren't normally aware of.  If we see the story in this way, how does the end fit?  Be specific.


Diagnosable Patient? Do you see Bartleby as having a diagnosable condition?  Is he clinically depressed?  (or is he melancholic?)  Is he "on the spectrum"?   If we see the story in this way, how does the end fit?  Be specific.

Bartleby, the Scrivener (A Story of Wall Street)

The story is available here:  http://www.gutenberg.org/cache/epub/11231/pg11231.html

Once you have read through half of the story, How do you react to Bartleby's recalcitrance?  How do you think you are supposed to react?  Explain.

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow and the "Fireside Poets"

A Brief Guide to the Fireside Poets                        

The Fireside poets (also called the "schoolroom" or "household" poets) were the first group of American poets to rival British poets in popularity in either country. Today their verse may seem more Victorian in sensibility than romantic, perhaps overly sentimental or moralizing in tone, but as a group they are notable for their scholarship, political sensibilities, and the resilience of their lines and themes. (Most schoolchildren can recite a line or two from "Paul Revere's Ride" or The Song of Hiawatha.) 

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, John Greenleaf Whittier, Oliver Wendell Holmes, James Russell Lowell, and William Cullen Bryant are the poets most commonly grouped together under this heading. In general, these poets preferred conventional forms over experimentation, and this attention to rhyme and strict metrical cadences made their work popular for memorization and recitation in classrooms and homes. They are most remembered for their longer narrative poems (Longfellow's Evangeline and Hiawatha, Whittier's Snow-bound) that frequently used American legends and scenes of American home life and contemporary politics (as in Holmes's "Old Ironsides" and Lowell's anti-slavery poems) as their subject matter.

At the peak of his career, Longfellow's popularity rivaled Tennyson's in England as well as in America, and he was a noted translator and scholar in several languages--in fact, he was the first American poet to be honored with a bust in Westminster Abbey's Poet's Corner. Hiawatha itself draws not only on Native American languages for its rhythmic underpinning, but also echoes the Kalevala, a Finnish epic. Lowell and Whittier, both outspoken liberals and abolitionists, were known for their journalism and work with the fledgling Atlantic Monthly. They did not hesitate to address issues that were divisive and highly charged in their day, and in fact used the sentimental tone in their poems to encourage their audience to consider these issues in less abstract and more personal terms.    (From Poets.org (website of the Academy of American Poets))

Some classic fireside poems by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow:

Evangeline (“This is the forest primeval. The whispering pines and the hemlocks…”)

The Song of Hiawatha (“By the shores of Gitche Gumee,/ By the shining BigSea-Water,/ 

Stood the wigwam of Nokomis,/ Daughter of the moon, Nokomis./ Dark behind it rose the forest…)

The Midnight Ride of Paul Revere (“Listen my children and you shall hear/ Of the midnight ride of Paul…”)

The Village Blacksmith (“Under a spreading chestnut tree/ The village smithy stands;/ The smith, a mighty 

man is he,/ With large and sinewy hands;/ And the muscles of his brawny arms/ Are strong as iron bands.”)

My Lost Youth (“And among the dreams of the days that were,/ I find my lost youth again./ And the strange 

and beautiful song,/ The groves are repeating it still:/ "A boy's will is the wind's will,/ And the thoughts of 

youth are long, long thoughts.")

A Psalm of Life (“Tell me not, in mournful numbers,/ Life is but an empty dream ! —/ For the soul 
is dead that slumbers,/ And things are not what they seem.//  Life is real !   Life is earnest!/ 
And the grave is not its goal…”)

For this Thursday, memorize at least eight lines of a Longfellow poem.  Extra credit for more lines.

Books by Americans before 1920

The following books are roughly in order of difficulty and sophistication. James is the best but the hardest; Alger is the corniest but the easiest. You also don't need to be limited by this list...

Henry James, Portrait of a Lady, etc. (My favorite. James's style is somewhat difficult but wonderful if you're a strong reader.  He was clearly the greatest "literary" American novelist of his time; he continues to exert a huge, huge influence.  He has a sophisticated, complex style and was one of the first novelists to focus deeply on individual consciousness.  Most people like Portrait of a Lady best.)

Edith Wharton, The Age of Innocence, The House of Mirth, etc.  (Novels about high society in NYC in the late nineteenth century)

Willa Cather, My Antonia (A very beautiful novel about being an immigrant, losing your parents, and a deep but bittersweet and unspoken love)

Mark Twain, Tom Sawyer, Life on the Mississippi, etc. (Entertaining books about American life out west.  Don't read Huck Finn; we'll read it together.)

James Weldon Johnson, Autobiography of an ex-Colored Man (A novel about the color-line in America: a young bi-racial man needs to choose between the black side or the white side.)

Upton Sinclair, The Jungle (muckraking novel about working-class immigrants in Chicago, the nastiness of the meatpacking industry, etc.)

Jack London, The Call of the Wild, White Fang, etc. (adventure stories about dogs and wolves in Alaska)

Booth Tarkington, The Magnificent Ambersons (story of the decline of an American aristocratic family and their urban neighborhood, tied in with suburban sprawl and the rise of the automobile.  Very popular novel in its time.)

Horatio Alger, Ragged Dick, Mark the Match Boy, etc. (rags to riches stories; corny version of the American Dream.  They're pretty easy reads.)

The Purloined Letter

Read it for Friday.  Find the story here:

http://etext.virginia.edu/etcbin/toccer-new2?id=PoePurl.sgm&images=images/modeng&data=/texts/english/modeng/parsed&tag=public&part=1&division=div1

The Black Cat and the Raven

For Thursday, read both of these texts.  You might also start "The Purloined Letter," which is more difficult.  In class you will write a quick essay about "The Black Cat" on a prompt I'll give you tomorrow, and then you will write a stanza in the form of "The Raven."

"The Black Cat" can be found at:

http://etext.virginia.edu/etcbin/toccer-new2?id=PoeBlac.sgm&images=images/modeng&data=/texts/english/modeng/parsed&tag=public&part=1&division=div1

The Raven

Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered weak and weary,
Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore,
While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,
As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door.
`'Tis some visitor,' I muttered, `tapping at my chamber door -
Only this, and nothing more.'

Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December,
And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor.
Eagerly I wished the morrow; - vainly I had sought to borrow
From my books surcease of sorrow - sorrow for the lost Lenore -
For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels named Lenore -
Nameless here for evermore.

And the silken sad uncertain rustling of each purple curtain
Thrilled me - filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before;
So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood repeating
`'Tis some visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door -
Some late visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door; -
This it is, and nothing more,'

Presently my soul grew stronger; hesitating then no longer,
`Sir,' said I, `or Madam, truly your forgiveness I implore;
But the fact is I was napping, and so gently you came rapping,
And so faintly you came tapping, tapping at my chamber door,
That I scarce was sure I heard you' - here I opened wide the door; -
Darkness there, and nothing more.

Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there wondering, fearing,
Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before;
But the silence was unbroken, and the darkness gave no token,
And the only word there spoken was the whispered word, `Lenore!'
This I whispered, and an echo murmured back the word, `Lenore!'
Merely this and nothing more.

Back into the chamber turning, all my soul within me burning,
Soon again I heard a tapping somewhat louder than before.
`Surely,' said I, `surely that is something at my window lattice;
Let me see then, what thereat is, and this mystery explore -
Let my heart be still a moment and this mystery explore; -
'Tis the wind and nothing more!'

Open here I flung the shutter, when, with many a flirt and flutter,
In there stepped a stately raven of the saintly days of yore.
Not the least obeisance made he; not a minute stopped or stayed he;
But, with mien of lord or lady, perched above my chamber door -
Perched upon a bust of Pallas just above my chamber door -
Perched, and sat, and nothing more.

Then this ebony bird beguiling my sad fancy into smiling,
By the grave and stern decorum of the countenance it wore,
`Though thy crest be shorn and shaven, thou,' I said, `art sure no craven.
Ghastly grim and ancient raven wandering from the nightly shore -
Tell me what thy lordly name is on the Night's Plutonian shore!'
Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.'

Much I marvelled this ungainly fowl to hear discourse so plainly,
Though its answer little meaning - little relevancy bore;
For we cannot help agreeing that no living human being
Ever yet was blessed with seeing bird above his chamber door -
Bird or beast above the sculptured bust above his chamber door,
With such name as `Nevermore.'

But the raven, sitting lonely on the placid bust, spoke only,
That one word, as if his soul in that one word he did outpour.
Nothing further then he uttered - not a feather then he fluttered -
Till I scarcely more than muttered `Other friends have flown before -
On the morrow he will leave me, as my hopes have flown before.'
Then the bird said, `Nevermore.'

Startled at the stillness broken by reply so aptly spoken,
`Doubtless,' said I, `what it utters is its only stock and store,
Caught from some unhappy master whom unmerciful disaster
Followed fast and followed faster till his songs one burden bore -
Till the dirges of his hope that melancholy burden bore
Of "Never-nevermore."'

But the raven still beguiling all my sad soul into smiling,
Straight I wheeled a cushioned seat in front of bird and bust and door;
Then, upon the velvet sinking, I betook myself to linking
Fancy unto fancy, thinking what this ominous bird of yore -
What this grim, ungainly, ghastly, gaunt, and ominous bird of yore
Meant in croaking `Nevermore.'

This I sat engaged in guessing, but no syllable expressing
To the fowl whose fiery eyes now burned into my bosom's core;
This and more I sat divining, with my head at ease reclining
On the cushion's velvet lining that the lamp-light gloated o'er,
But whose velvet violet lining with the lamp-light gloating o'er,
She shall press, ah, nevermore!

Then, methought, the air grew denser, perfumed from an unseen censer
Swung by Seraphim whose foot-falls tinkled on the tufted floor.
`Wretch,' I cried, `thy God hath lent thee - by these angels he has sent thee
Respite - respite and nepenthe from thy memories of Lenore!
Quaff, oh quaff this kind nepenthe, and forget this lost Lenore!'
Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.'

`Prophet!' said I, `thing of evil! - prophet still, if bird or devil! -
Whether tempter sent, or whether tempest tossed thee here ashore,
Desolate yet all undaunted, on this desert land enchanted -
On this home by horror haunted - tell me truly, I implore -
Is there - is there balm in Gilead? - tell me - tell me, I implore!'
Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.'

`Prophet!' said I, `thing of evil! - prophet still, if bird or devil!
By that Heaven that bends above us - by that God we both adore -
Tell this soul with sorrow laden if, within the distant Aidenn,
It shall clasp a sainted maiden whom the angels named Lenore -
Clasp a rare and radiant maiden, whom the angels named Lenore?'
Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.'

`Be that word our sign of parting, bird or fiend!' I shrieked upstarting -
`Get thee back into the tempest and the Night's Plutonian shore!
Leave no black plume as a token of that lie thy soul hath spoken!
Leave my loneliness unbroken! - quit the bust above my door!
Take thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form from off my door!'
Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.'

And the raven, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting
On the pallid bust of Pallas just above my chamber door;
And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon's that is dreaming,
And the lamp-light o'er him streaming throws his shadow on the floor;
And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor
Shall be lifted - nevermore!

From "Sinners in the Hands of an Angry God"

(What follows is the excerpt in our textbook; e-text borrowed from the Jonathan Edwards Center at Yale University)

...

The wrath of God is like great waters that are dammed for the present; they increase more and more, and rise higher and higher, till an outlet is given, and the longer the stream is stopped, the more rapid and mighty is its course, when once it is let loose. ‘Tis true, that judgment against your evil works has not been executed hitherto; the floods of God's vengeance have been withheld; but your guilt in the meantime is constantly increasing, and you are every day treasuring up[1] more wrath; the waters are continually rising and waxing more and more mighty; and there is nothing but the mere pleasure of God that holds the waters back that are unwilling to be stopped, and press hard to go forward; if God should only withdraw his hand from the floodgate, it would immediately fly open, and the fiery floods of the fierceness and wrath of God would rush forth with inconceivable fury, and would come upon you with omnipotent power; and if your strength were ten thousand times greater than it is, yea, ten thousand times greater than the strength of the stoutest, sturdiest devil in hell, it would be nothing to withstand or endure it.

The bow of God's wrath is bent, and the arrow made ready on the string, and Justice bends the arrow at your heart, and strains the bow, and it is nothing but the mere pleasure of God, and that of an angry God, without any promise or obligation at all, that keeps the arrow one moment from being made drunk with your blood.

Thus all you that never passed under a great change of heart, by the mighty power of the Spirit of God upon your souls; all that were never born again, and made new creatures, and raised from being dead in sin, to a state of new, and before altogether unexperienced light and life (however you may have reformed your life in many things, and may have had religious affections[2], and may keep up a form of religion in your families and closets[3], and in the house of God, and may be strict in it), you are thus in the hands of an angry God; ‘tis nothing but his mere pleasure that keeps you from being this moment swallowed up in everlasting destruction.

However unconvinced you may now be of the truth of what you hear, by and by you will be fully convinced of it. Those that are gone from being in the like[4] circumstances with you, see that it was so with them; for destruction came suddenly upon most of them, when they expected nothing of it, and while they were saying, “Peace and safety”: now they see, that those things that they depended on for peace and safety, were nothing but thin air and empty shadows.

The God that holds you over the pit of hell, much as one holds a spider, or some loathsome insect, over the fire, abhors[5] you, and is dreadfully provoked[6]; his wrath towards you burns like fire; he looks upon you as worthy of nothing else, but to be cast into the fire; he is of purer eyes than to bear to have you in his sight; you are ten thousand times so abominable[7] in his eyes as the most hateful venomous serpent is in ours. You have offended him infinitely more than ever a stubborn rebel did his prince; and yet ‘tis nothing but his hand that holds you from falling into the fire every moment; ‘tis to be ascribed[8] to nothing else, that you did not go to hell the last night; that you was suffered to awake again in this world, after you closed your eyes to sleep: and there is no other reason to be given why you have not dropped into hell since you arose in the morning, but that God's hand has held you up; there is no other reason to be given why you han’t[9] not gone to hell since you have sat here in the house of God, provoking his pure eyes by your sinful wicked manner of attending his solemn worship: yea, there is nothing else that is to be given as a reason why you do not this very moment drop down into hell.

O sinner! Consider the fearful danger you are in: ‘tis a great furnace of wrath, a wide and bottomless pit, full of the fire of wrath, that you are held over in the hand of that God, whose wrath is provoked and incensed as much against you as against many of the damned in hell; you hang by a slender thread, with the flames of divine wrath flashing about it, and ready every moment to singe it, and burn it asunder[10]; and you have no interest in any Mediator, and nothing to lay hold of to save yourself, nothing to keep off the flames of wrath, nothing of your own, nothing that you ever have done, nothing that you can do, to induce[11] God to spare you one moment.

---

[1] treasuring up – hoarding, saving up

[2] religious affections – desires to do God’s will

[3] closets – personal lives (lives that are ‘closeted’ or hidden)

[4] like – similar or same

[5] abhor – to hates or loathe

[6] provoked – angered, enraged, irritated, exasperated (OED)

[7] abominable – detestable, horrid, loathsome

[8] ascribed – attributed

[9] han’t – have not

[10] asunder – into separate parts; in two, in pieces (OED)

[11] induce – cause, prompt

Due Friday: From Jonathan Edwards's "Personal Narrative"

[Below is a series of excerpts from Edwards's "Personal Narrative".  For Friday, read it; then copy a phrase that you find interesting, and comment on it.  Also read at least 80 pp. of your own book.]

    I had a variety of concerns and exercises about my soul from my childhood; but had two more remarkable seasons of awakening, before I met with that change by which I was brought to those new dispositions, and that new sense of things, that I have since had. The first time was when I was a boy, some years before I went to college, at a time of remarkable awakening in my father’s congregation. I was then very much affected for many months, and concerned about the things of religion, and my soul’s salvation; and was abundant in religious duties. I used to pray five times a day in secret, and to spend much time in religious conversation with other boys; and used to meet with them to pray together. I experienced I know not what kind of delight in religion. My mind was much engaged in it, and had much self-righteous pleasure; and it was my delight to abound in religious duties. I, with some of my schoolmates, joined together and built a booth in a swamp, in a very retired spot, for a place of prayer. And besides, I had particular secret places of my own in the woods, where I used to retire by myself; and was from time to time much affected. My affections seemed to be lively and easily moved, and I seemed to be in my element when engaged in religious duties. And I am ready to think, many are deceived with such affections, and such a kind of delight as I then had in religion, and mistake it for grace.
    But in process of time, my convictions and affections wore off; and I entirely lost all those affections and delights, and left off secret prayer, at least as to any constant performance of it; and returned like a dog to his vomit, and went on in the ways of sin. Indeed, I was at times very uneasy, especially towards the latter part of my time at college; when it pleased God to seize me with a pleurisy, in which he brought me nigh to the grave, and shook me over the pit of hell. And yet, it was not long after my recovery, before I fell again into my old ways of sin. But God would not suffer me to go on with any quietness; I had great and violent inward struggles, till after many conflicts with wicked inclinations, repeated resolutions, and bonds that I laid myself under by a kind of vows to God, I was brought wholly to break off all former wicked ways, and all ways of known outward sin; and to apply myself to seek salvation, and practice many religious duties; but without that kind of affection and delight which I had formerly experienced. My concern now wrought more by inward struggles and conflicts, and self-reflections. I made seeking my salvation the main business of my life. But yet, it seems to me, I sought after a miserable manner, which has made me sometimes since to question, whether ever it issued in that which was saving; being ready to doubt whether such miserable seeking ever succeeded. I was indeed brought to seek salvation in a manner that I never was before; I felt a spirit to part with all things in the world, for an interest in Christ. My concern continued and prevailed, with many exercising thoughts and inward struggles; but yet it never seemed to be proper to express that concern by the name of terror.

Sovereignty of God

    From my childhood up, my mind had been full of objections against the doctrine of God’s sovereignty, in choosing whom he would to eternal life, and rejecting whom he pleased; leaving them eternally to perish, and be everlastingly tormented in hell. It used to appear like a horrible doctrine to me. But I remember the time very well, when I seemed to be convinced, and fully satisfied, as to this sovereignty of God, and his justice in thus eternally disposing of men, according to his sovereign pleasure. But I never could give an account how, or by what means, I was thus convinced. [...] But I have often, since that first conviction, had quite another kind of sense of God’s sovereignty that I had then. I have often since had not only a conviction, but a delightful conviction. The doctrine has very often appeared exceeding pleasant, bright, and sweet. Absolute sovereignty is what I love to ascribe to God. But my first conviction was not so.
...
    From about that time, I began to have a new kind of apprehensions and ideas of Christ, and the work of redemption, and the glorious way of salvation by him. An inward, sweet sense of these things, at times, came into my heart; and my soul was led away in pleasant views and contemplations of them. And my mind was greatly encouraged to spend my time in reading and meditating on Christ, on the beauty and excellency of his person, and the lovely way of salvation by free grace in him. I found no books so delightful to me, as those that treated of these subjects. Those words, Song. 2:1, used to be abundantly with me, “I am the Rose of Sharon, and the Lily of the valleys.” The words seemed to me sweetly to represent the loveliness and beauty of Jesus Christ. The whole book of Canticles used to be pleasant to me, and I used to be much in reading it, about that time; and found, from time to time, an inward sweetness, that would carry me away in my contemplations. This I know not how to express otherwise, than by a calm, sweet abstraction of soul from all the concerns of this world; and sometimes a kind of vision, or fixed ideas and imaginations, of being alone in the mountains, or some solitary wilderness, far from all mankind, sweetly conversing with Christ, and rapt and swallowed up in God. The sense I had of divine things, would often of a sudden kindle up, as it were, a sweet burning in my heart; an ardor of soul that I know not how to express.

Growth of Spiritual Life

    Not long after I first began to experience these things, I gave an account to my father of some things that had passed in my mind. I was pretty much affected by the discourse we had together; and when the discourse was ended, I walked abroad alone, in a solitary place in my father’s pasture, for contemplation. And as I was walking there, and looking up on the sky and clouds, there came into my mind so sweet a sense of the glorious majesty and grace of God, that I know not how to express. — I seemed to see them both in a sweet conjunction; majesty and meekness joined together: it was a sweet and gentle, and holy majesty; and also a majestic meekness; an awful sweetness; a high, and great, and holy gentleness.
    After this my sense of divine things gradually increased, and became more and more lively, and had more of that inward sweetness. The appearance of every thing was altered; there seemed to be, as it were, a calm, sweet cast, or appearance of divine glory, in almost every thing. God’s excellency, his wisdom, his purity and love, seemed to appear in every thing; in the sun, and moon, and stars; in the clouds and blue sky; in the grass, flowers, trees; in the water, and all nature; which used greatly to fix my mind. I often used to sit and view the moon for a long time; and in the day, spent much time in viewing the clouds and sky, to behold the sweet glory of God in these things; in the mean time, singing forth, with a low voice, my contemplations of the Creator and Redeemer. And scarce any thing, among all the works of nature, was so sweet to me as thunder and lightning; formerly nothing had been so terrible to me. Before, I used to be uncommonly terrified with thunder, and to be struck with terror when I saw a thunderstorm rising; but now, on the contrary, it rejoiced me. I felt God, if I may so to speak, at the first appearance of a thunderstorm; and used to take the opportunity, at such times, to fix myself in order to view the clouds and see the lightnings play, and hear the majestic and awful voice of God’s thunder, which oftentimes was exceedingly entertaining, leading me to sweet contemplations of my great and glorious God. While thus engaged, it always seemed natural to me to sing or chant forth my meditations; or, to speak my thoughts in soliloquies with a singing voice.
     ...On January 12, 1723, I made a solemn dedication of myself to God, and wrote it down; giving up myself, and all I had, to God; to be for the future in no respect my own; to act as one that had no right to himself, in any respect. And solemnly vowed to take God for my whole portion and felicity; looking on nothing else as any part of my happiness, nor acting as it were; and his law for the constant rule of my obedience; engaging to fight with all my might against the world, the flesh, and the devil, to the end of my life. But I have reason to be infinitely humbled, when I consider how much I have failed of answering my obligation.
...
    I very frequently used to retire into a solitary place, on the banks of Hudson’s river, at some distance from the city, for contemplation on divine things and secret converse with God; and had many sweet hours there. Sometimes Mr. Smith and I walked there together, to converse on the things of God; and our conversation used to turn much on the advancement of Christ’s kingdom in the world, and the glorious things that God would accomplish for his church in the latter days. I had then, and at other times, the greatest delight in the Holy Scriptures of any book whatsoever. Oftentimes in reading it, every word seemed to touch my heart. I felt a harmony between something in my heart, and those sweet and powerful words. I seemed often to see so much light exhibited by every sentence, and such a refreshing food communicated, that I could not get along in reading; often dwelling long on one sentence, to see the wonders contained in it; and yet almost every sentence seemed to be full of wonders.

Further Reflections

    I came away from New York in the month of April, 1723, and had a most bitter parting with Madam Smith and her son. My heart seemed to sink within me at leaving the family and city, where I had enjoyed so many sweet and pleasant days. I went from New York to Wethersfield, by water, and as I sailed away, I kept sight of the city as long as I could. However, that night, after this sorrowful parting, I was greatly comforted in God at Westchester, where we went ashore to lodge; and had a pleasant time of it all the voyage to Saybrook. It was sweet to me to think of meeting dear Christians in heaven, where we should never part more. At Saybrook we went ashore to lodge on Saturday, and there kept the sabbath; where I had a sweet and refreshing season walking alone in the fields.
    After I came home to Windsor, I remained much in a like frame of mind as when at New York; only sometimes I felt my heart ready to sink with the thoughts of my friends at New York. My support was in contemplations on the heavenly state; as I find in my diary of May 1, 1723. It was a comfort to think of that state, where there is fullness of joy; where reigns heavenly calm, and delightful love, without alloy; where there are continually the dearest expressions of love; where is the enjoyment of the persons loved, without ever parting; where these persons who appear so lovely in this world, will really be inexpressibly more lovely and full of love to us. And how sweetly will the mutual lovers join together, to sing the praises of God and the Lamb! How will it fill us with joy to think that this enjoyment, these sweet exercises, will never cease but will last to all eternity! I continued much in the same frame, in the general, as when at New York, till I went to New Haven as tutor of the college; particularly once at Bolton, on a journey from Boston, while walking out alone in the fields. After I went to New Haven, I sunk in religion, my mind being diverted from my eager pursuits after holiness, by some affairs that greatly perplexed and distracted my thoughts.
    ...Once, as I rode out into the woods for my health, in 1737, having alighted from my horse in a retired place, as my manner commonly has been, to walk for divine contemplation and prayer, I had a view that for me was extraordinary, of the glory of the Son of God, as Mediator between God and man, and his wonderful, great, full, pure and sweet grace and love, and meek and gentle condescension. This grace that appeared so calm and sweet, appeared also great above the heavens. The person of Christ appeared ineffably excellent, with an excellency great enough to swallow up all thought and conception — which continued, as near as I can judge, about an hour; which kept me the greater part of the time in a flood of tears, and weeping aloud. I felt an ardency of soul to be, what I know not otherwise how to express, emptied and annihilated; to lie in the dust, and to be full of Christ alone; to love him with a holy and pure love; to trust in him; to live upon him; to serve and follow him; and to be perfectly sanctified and made pure, with a divine and heavenly purity. I have several other times had views very much of the same nature, and which have had the same effects.
...
    Often, since I lived in this town, I have had very affecting views of my own sinfulness and vileness; very frequently to such a degree as to hold me in a kind of loud weeping, sometimes for a considerable time together; so that I have often been forced to shut myself up. I have had a vastly greater sense of my own wickedness, and the badness of my heart, than ever I had before my conversion. It has often appeared to me, that if God should mark iniquity against me, I should appear the very worst of all mankind; of all that have been since the beginning of the world to this time; and that I should have by far the lowest place in the world to this time; and that I should have by far the lowest place in hell. When others, that have come to talk with me about their soul concerns, have expressed the sense they have had of their own wickedness by saying, that it seemed to them, that they were as bad as the devil himself; I thought their expressions seemed exceeding faint and feeble, to represent my wickedness.
My wickedness, as I am in myself, has long appeared to me perfectly ineffable, and swallowing up all thought and imagination; like an infinite deluge, or mountains over my head. I know not how to express better what my sins appear to me to be, than by heaping infinite upon infinite, and multiplying infinite by infinite. Very often, for these many years, these expressions are in my mind and in my mouth, “Infinite upon infinite — Infinite upon infinite!” When I look into my heart, and take a view of my wickedness, it looks like an abyss, infinitely deeper than hell. And it appears to me, that were it not for free grace, exalted and raised up to the infinite height of all the fullness and glory of the great Jehovah, and the arm of his power and grace stretched forth in all the majesty of his power, and in all the glory of his sovereignty, I should appear sunk down in my sins below hell itself; far beyond the sight of every thing, but the eye of sovereign grace, that can pierce even down to such a depth. And yet, it seems to me that my conviction of sin is exceeding small and faint; it is enough to amaze me, that I have very little sense of my sinfulness. I know certainly, that I have very little sense of my sinfulness. When I have had turns of weeping for my sins, I thought I knew at the time that my repentance was nothing to my sin.
    I have greatly longed of late for a broken heart, and to lie low before God; and when I ask for humility, I cannot bear the thoughts of being no more humble than other Christians. It seems to me, that though their degrees of humility may be suitable for them, yet it would be a vile self-exaltation in me, not to be the lowest in humility of all mankind. Others speak of their longing to be “humbled in the dust”; that may be a proper expression for them, but I always think of myself, that I ought, and it is an expression that has long been natural for me to use in prayer, “to lie infinitely low before God.” And it is affecting to think, how ignorant I was, when a young Christian, of the bottomless, infinite depths of wickedness, pride, hypocrisy and deceit, left in my heart.
    I have a much greater sense of my universal, exceeding dependence on God’s grace and strength, and mere good pleasure, of late, than I used formerly to have; and have experienced more of an abhorrence of my own righteousness. The very thought of any joy arising in me, on any consideration of my own amiableness, performances, or experiences, or any goodness of heart or life, is nauseous and detestable to me. And yet, I am greatly afflicted with a proud and self-righteous spirit, much more sensibly than I used to be formerly. I see that serpent rising and putting, forth its head continually, every where, all around me.
...

The Resolutions of Jonathan Edwards (1722-1723)

For Thursday: read the following; write a comment about them (notice something interesting!); and write, on paper, your own list of at least ten resolutions.

 

The Resolutions of Jonathan Edwards
 (1703-1758)

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BEING SENSIBLE THAT I AM UNABLE TO DO ANYTHING WITHOUT GOD' S HELP, I DO HUMBLY ENTREAT HIM BY HIS GRACE TO ENABLE ME TO KEEP THESE RESOLUTIONS, SO FAR AS THEY ARE AGREEABLE TO HIS WILL, FOR CHRIST' S SAKE.

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Remember to read over these Resolutions once a week.
1. Resolved, that I will do whatsoever I think to be most to God' s glory, and my own good, profit and pleasure, in the whole of my duration, without any consideration of the time, whether now, or never so many myriads of ages hence. Resolved to do whatever I think to be my duty and most for the good and advantage of mankind in general. Resolved to do this, whatever difficulties I meet with, how many soever, and how great soever.
2. Resolved, to be continually endeavoring to find out some new contrivance and invention to promote the aforementioned things.
3. Resolved, if ever I shall fall and grow dull, so as to neglect to keep any part of these Resolutions, to repent of all I can remember, when I come to myself again.
4. Resolved, never to do any manner of thing, whether in soul or body, less or more, but what tends to the glory of God; nor be, nor suffer it, if I can avoid it.
5. Resolved, never to lose one moment of time; but improve it the most profitable way I possibly can.
6. Resolved, to live with all my might, while I do live.
7. Resolved, never to do anything, which I should be afraid to do, if it were the last hour of my life.
8. Resolved, to act, in all respects, both speaking and doing, as if nobody had been so vile as I, and as if I had committed the same sins, or had the same infirmities or failings as others; and that I will let the knowledge of their failings promote nothing but shame in myself, and prove only an occasion of my confessing my own sins and misery to God. July 30.
9. Resolved, to think much on all occasions of my own dying, and of the common circumstances which attend death.
10. Resolved, when I feel pain, to think of the pains of martyrdom, and of hell.
11. Resolved, when I think of any theorem in divinity to be solved, immediately to do what I can towards solving it, if circumstances do not hinder.
12. Resolved, if I take delight in it as a gratification of pride, or vanity, or on any such account, immediately to throw it by.
13. Resolved, to be endeavoring to find out fit objects of charity and liberality.
14. Resolved, never to do any thing out of revenge.
15. Resolved, never to suffer the least motions of anger towards irrational beings.
16. Resolved, never to speak evil of anyone, so that it shall tend to his dishonor, more or less, upon no account except for some real good.
17. Resolved, that I will live so, as I shall wish I had done when I come to die.
18. Resolved, to live so, at all times, as I think is best in my devout frames, and when I have clearest notions of things of the gospel, and another world.
19. Resolved, never to do any thing, which I should be afraid to do, if I expected it would not be above an hour, before I should hear the last trump.
20. Resolved, to maintain the strictest temperance, in eating and drinking.
21. Resolved, never to do any thing, which if I should see in another, I should count a just occasion to despise him for, or to think any way the more meanly of him. (Resolutions 1 through 21 written in one setting in New Haven in 1722)
22. Resolved, to endeavor to obtain for myself as much happiness, in the other world, as I possibly can, with all the power, might, vigor, and vehemence, yea violence, I am capable of, or can bring myself to exert, in any way that can be thought of.
23. Resolved, frequently to take some deliberate action, which seems most unlikely to be done, for the glory of God, and trace it back to the original intention, designs and ends of it; and if I find it not to be for God' s glory, to repute it as a breach of the 4th Resolution.
24. Resolved, whenever I do any conspicuously evil action, to trace it back, till I come to the original cause; and then, both carefully endeavor to do so no more, and to fight and pray with all my might against the original of it.
25. Resolved, to examine carefully, and constantly, what that one thing in me is, which causes me in the least to doubt of the love of God; and to direct all my forces against it.
26. Resolved, to cast away such things, as I find do abate my assurance.
27. Resolved, never willfully to omit any thing, except the omission be for the glory of God; and frequently to examine my omissions.
28. Resolved, to study the Scriptures so steadily, constantly and frequently, as that I may find, and plainly perceive myself to grow in the knowledge of the same.
29. Resolved, never to count that a prayer, nor to let that pass as a prayer, nor that as a petition of a prayer, which is so made, that I cannot hope that God will answer it; nor that as a confession, which I cannot hope God will accept.
30. Resolved, to strive to my utmost every week to be brought higher in religion, and to a higher exercise of grace, than I was the week before.
31. Resolved, never to say any thing at all against any body, but when it is perfectly agreeable to the highest degree of Christian honor, and of love to mankind, agreeable to the lowest humility, and sense of my own faults and failings, and agreeable to the golden rule; often, when I have said anything against anyone, to bring it to, and try it strictly by the test of this Resolution.
32. Resolved, to be strictly and firmly faithful to my trust, that that, in Proverbs 20:6, A faithful man who can find? may not be partly fulfilled in me.
33. Resolved, to do always, what I can towards making, maintaining, and preserving peace, when it can be done without overbalancing detriment in other respects. Dec. 26, 1722.
34. Resolved, in narrations never to speak any thing but the pure and simple verity.
35. Resolved, whenever I so much question whether I have done my duty, as that my quiet and calm is thereby disturbed, to set it down, and also how the question was resolved. Dec. 18, 1722.
36. Resolved, never to speak evil of any, except I have some particular good call for it. Dec. 19, 1722.
37. Resolved, to inquire every night, as I am going to bed, wherein I have been negligent,- what sin I have committed,-and wherein I have denied myself;-also at the end of every week, month and year. Dec. 22 and 26, 1722.
38. Resolved, never to speak anything that is ridiculous, sportive, or matter of laughter on the Lord' s day. Sabbath evening, Dec. 23, 1722.
39. Resolved, never to do any thing of which I so much question the lawfulness of, as that I intend, at the same time, to consider and examine afterwards, whether it be lawful or not; unless I as much question the lawfulness of the omission.
40. Resolved, to inquire every night, before I go to bed, whether I have acted in the best way I possibly could, with respect to eating and drinking. Jan. 7, 1723.
41. Resolved, to ask myself, at the end of every day, week, month and year, wherein I could possibly, in any respect, have done better. Jan. 11, 1723.
42. Resolved, frequently to renew the dedication of myself to God, which was made at my baptism; which I solemnly renewed, when I was received into the communion of the church; and which I have solemnly re-made this twelfth day of January, 1722-23.
43. Resolved, never, henceforward, till I die, to act as if I were any way my own, but entirely and altogether God' s; agreeable to what is to be found in Saturday, January 12, 1723.
44. Resolved, that no other end but religion, shall have any influence at all on any of my actions; and that no action shall be, in the least circumstance, any otherwise than the religious end will carry it. January 12, 1723.
45. Resolved, never to allow any pleasure or grief, joy or sorrow, nor any affection at all, nor any degree of affection, nor any circumstance relating to it, but what helps religion. Jan. 12 and 13, 1723.
46. Resolved, never to allow the least measure of any fretting uneasiness at my father or mother. Resolved to suffer no effects of it, so much as in the least alteration of speech, or motion of my eye: and to be especially careful of it with respect to any of our family.
47. Resolved, to endeavor, to my utmost, to deny whatever is not most agreeable to a good, and universally sweet and benevolent, quiet, peaceable, contented and easy, compassionate and generous, humble and meek, submissive and obliging, diligent and industrious, charitable and even, patient, moderate, forgiving and sincere temper; and to do at all times, what such a temper would lead me to; and to examine strictly, at the end of every week, whether I have done so. Sabbath morning. May 5, 1723.
48. Resolved, constantly, with the utmost niceness and diligence, and the strictest scrutiny, to be looking into the state of my soul, that I may know whether I have truly an interest in Christ or not; that when I come to die, I may not have any negligence respecting this to repent of. May 26, 1723.
49. Resolved, that this never shall be, if I can help it.
50. Resolved, I will act so as I think I shall judge would have been best, and most prudent, when I come into the future world. July 5, 1723.
51. Resolved, that I will act so, in every respect, as I think I shall wish I had done, if I should at last be damned. July 8, 1723.
52. I frequently hear persons in old age, say how they would live, if they were to live their lives over again: Resolved, that I will live just so as I can think I shall wish I had done, supposing I live to old age. July 8, 1723.
53. Resolved, to improve every opportunity, when I am in the best and happiest frame of mind, to cast and venture my soul on the Lord Jesus Christ, to trust and confide in him, and consecrate myself wholly to him; that from this I may have assurance of my safety, knowing that I confide in my Redeemer. July 8, 1723.
54. Whenever I hear anything spoken in conversation of any person, if I think it would be praiseworthy in me, Resolved to endeavor to imitate it. July 8, 1723.
55. Resolved, to endeavor to my utmost to act as I can think I should do, if, I had already seen the happiness of heaven, and hell torments. July 8, 1723.
56. Resolved, never to give over, nor in the least to slacken, my fight with my corruptions, however unsuccessful I may be.
57. Resolved, when I fear misfortunes and adversities, to examine whether I have done my duty, and resolve to do it, and let the event be just as providence orders it. I will as far as I can, be concerned about nothing but my duty, and my sin. June 9, and July 13 1723.
58. Resolved, not only to refrain from an air of dislike, fretfulness, and anger in conversation, but to exhibit an air of love, cheerfulness and benignity. May 27, and July 13, 1723.
59. Resolved, when I am most conscious of provocations to ill nature and anger, that I will strive most to feel and act good-naturedly; yea, at such times, to manifest good nature, though I think that in other respects it would be disadvantageous, and so as would be imprudent at other times. May 12, July 11, and July 13.
60. Resolved, whenever my feelings begin to appear in the least out of order, when I am conscious of the least uneasiness within, or the least irregularity without, I will then subject myself to the strictest examination. July 4, and 13, 1723.
61. Resolved, that I will not give way to that listlessness which I find unbends and relaxes my mind from being fully and fixedly set on religion, whatever excuse I may have for it-that what my listlessness inclines me to do, is best to be done, etc. May 21, and July 13, 1723.
62. Resolved, never to do anything but duty, and then according to Ephesians 6:6-8, to do it willingly and cheerfully as unto the Lord, and not to man: knowing that whatever good thing any man doth, the same shall he receive of the Lord. June 25 and July 13, 1723.
63. On the supposition, that there never was to be but one individual in the world, at any one time, who was properly a complete Christian, in all respects of a right stamp, having Christianity always shining in its true luster, and appearing excellent and lovely, from whatever part and under whatever character viewed: Resolved, to act just as I would do, if I strove with all my might to be that one, who should live in my time. January 14 and July 13, 1723.
64. Resolved, when I find those ‹groanings which cannot be uttered (Romans 8:26), of which the Apostle speaks, and those breakings of soul for the longing it hath, of which the Psalmist speaks, Psalm 119:20, that I will promote them to the utmost of my power, and that I will not be weary of earnestly endeavoring to vent my desires, nor of the repetitions of such earnestness. July 23, and August 10, 1723.
65. Resolved, very much to exercise myself in this, all my life long, viz. with the greatest openness, of which I am capable of, to declare my ways to God, and lay open my soul to him: all my sins, temptations, difficulties, sorrows, fears, hopes, desires, and every thing, and every circumstance; according to Dr. Manton' s 27th Sermon on Psalm 119. July 26, and Aug.10 1723.
66. Resolved, that I will endeavor always to keep a benign aspect, and air of acting and speaking in all places, and in all companies, except it should so happen that duty requires otherwise.
67. Resolved, after afflictions, to inquire, what I am the better for them, what am I the better for them, and what I might have got by them.
68. Resolved, to confess frankly to myself all that which I find in myself, either infirmity or sin; and, if it be what concerns religion, also to confess the whole case to God, and implore needed help. July 23, and August 10, 1723.
69. Resolved, always to do that, which I shall wish I had done when I see others do it. August 11, 1723.
70. Let there be something of benevolence, in all that I speak. August 17, 1723.

What, then, does a good essay need?

Most of you said something about why the selected essays were good--now please make some suggestions about what a good essay needs.  If you see something someone else says that you don't agree with, argue with it--but mainly offer some clear suggestions on what makes for a good essay about literature.

Our Independent Reading Program

One of my hopes for this year is that much of our reading can be done independently, so that you can choose, within certain constraints, books that you are more likely to be interested in.  We will all read some things in common, and we will look at short passages from many, many authors, but the works you read in full will, I hope, be mostly ones that you choose on your own.

That does not mean that you can spend all of your time reading Tucker Max or the like.  During the first quarter, we are going to be studying American literature that was written before the end of the Civil War, so your independent reading books should have been written before 1865. There is a list below: you should spend some time browsing and reading before you pick a book to continue with.

Once you have selected a book, you should read it regularly.  Bring your book to class every day, since we will often spend some time reading in class.  When you finish one book, start another; those of you who are seriously interested in literature should have read two or three or more books on your own by the end of the quarter.

You will be graded mostly on regularity, and on completing a minimum of pages each week (to begin with, let’s say 80).  People who want to be A students will be expected to greatly exceed that minimum.  If you want to get a B, you should meet that minimum—and NEVER do other work during the reading time in class.  If you do so, you will be graded down severely.  Giving you reading time in class is a great gift for you and something of a risk for me.  Please make it be a risk that I want to keep taking.

The independent reading will be intensive over the first four weeks of the quarter, and then will be put a bit on the back burner (though we will still spend half an hour of class time each week reading independently).

·            (18^th century:)

·      Crevecoeur, Letters from an American Farmer

·      Rowlandson, Narrative of the Captivity…

·      Franklin, Autobiography

·      Equiano, Autobiography

·      Woolman, Journal           

·            (19^th century:)

·      Poe, stories

·      Melville, Moby Dick (or others)

·      Stowe, Uncle Tom’s Cabin

·      Jacobs, Incidents in the Life of a Slave Girl, as Written By Herself

·      Cooper, The Last of the Mohicans (or others)

·      Charles Brockden Brown, Edgar Huntly (or others)

·      Susannah Rowson, Charlotte Temple

·      Washington Irving, Legend of Sleepy Hollow, etc.

·      Hawthorne, Twice-Told Tales (or others)

·      Thoreau, Walden

·      Emerson, Essays (start with “Self Reliance” and then ask me for other good ones)

Monday and Tuesday: Meet in Humanities Lab

On Monday (F) and Tuesday (E), please meet in the Humanities Lab--I think the room number is 383...

Read these good papers and comment on one of them

Your homework over the weekend is to read the two good papers about the poem you didn't write about, and write a comment on one of them.  In your comment, you could add to or argue with what the person said; but the main thing you should do is try to  explain what is good about the essay.  Papers are good for lots of different reasons--what are some things these papers did well?  Next week we will talk in class about what makes for good papers.  Remember--our first class next week is meeting in the Humanities lab.

F Block--Ben on 435

Emily Dickinson and Her Many Hyphens                                                                        \\\ By Ben Eggleston

Pick up Emily Dickinson’s Poem 435[1], and one can’t help but notice the hyphens. They are sprinkled liberally, even recklessly, throughout the poem. Every line has at least one extra-long dash taking the place of a comma, a period, or inserted where no punctuation would normally be found. They are a little jarring. Depending on one’s feelings regarding proactive punctuation, they could even be alarming. However haphazard they may seem, they occupy nearly half of 435’s real estate on the page, and any self-respecting student of literature should assume that a skilled artist such as Dickinson brings method to her madness. Not coincidentally, the poem itself deals with Reason (with a capital R) and Madness, and how the one is often found in the guise of the other. The hyphens, on closer examination, help unify the poem’s structure with its message, which can be summarized as follows: Often a thoughtful observer will find Reason in seemingly mad or senseless occurrences. And often the Majority will decide that something is logical and overflowing with Reason, and anyone who dares to point out the Madness that is being overlooked will be labeled Mad themselves, and “handled with a chain.” The humble hyphen, in the hands of a master poet, becomes very expressive in this poem. It adds to the message in a variety of ways. Specifically…

The dissection of the poem into hyphenated chunks is an agent of sedition in the reader’s mind. It has the potential to create suspicion regarding the sanity of the speaker.  It is not too much of a stretch to imagine the words coming in fits and starts to a madwoman incapable of sustaining coherent thought for more than a few words at a time. Were the insane speaker to do an oral presentation, perhaps the dashes would manifest as twitches and pauses taken to collect her thoughts. If Dickinson’s intent was actually to present the speaker as a little crazy, it’s a humorous touch. The poem’s dramatic cry, “The Majority labels me as insane whenever I disagree with them,” is undermined to ironic effect if the speaker is, in fact, insane.

The impression given by 435 is that the speaker is not on board with the Majority, and is one of those who find themselves being handled with a chain for their alternative lines of thinking. The interrupted nature of 435 (courtesy of the hyphen) could then be a metaphor: My poem is interrupted just like all my intellectual endeavors are interrupted by a narrow minded, judgmental Majority. In this case, the poem’s structure serves to add a note of protest to its somewhat resigned tone.

There is a hyphen at the end of the poem, which reads like this: “…and handled with a Chain—“ A hyphen is used in between text. One does not usually end something with a hyphen. This creates the suggestion that the speaker was unable to finish for some reason. Given the message that precedes it, the hyphenated ending gives rise to the eerie feeling that the speaker has been dragged of in chains before she could finish. This makes sense according to the rules of the poem:  Choose not to side with the Majority, and you will be handled with a chain. The speaker certainly made that choice, and now she must live with the consequences.

A close reading of 435 reveals that the enthusiastic distribution of hyphens is not random, or pointless, or done just to do something different; The hyphens pull their weight in the poem by variously supporting, undermining, or adding to the message, or even all at the same time, depending on one’s interpretation.

           

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[1] As it is labeled in our class, anyway.