After studying one of the following excerpts, follow the prompt for creative writing indicated in each of them, making sure that you introduce stylistic markers in your piece of one of the texts studied in the course (as if you were writing in "the manner of" - not necessarily of the author from the given excerpt, but of one of our authors or their most known devices). Furthermore, weave your text so that in it we will find echoes of at least two texts studied in the course so far (these may be thematic or stylistic, or characteres direclty addressing one another, as in promp two).
1.
"Only the wife of his bosom might have hesitated. She, without having analyzed his character, was partly aware of a quiet selfishness, that had rusted into his inactive mind; of a peculiar sort of vanity, the most uneasy attribute about him; of a disposition to craft which had seldom produced more positive effects than the keeping of petty secrets, hardly worth revealing; and, lastly, of what she called a little strangeness, sometimes, in the good man. This latter quality is indefinable, and perhaps non-existent.
Let us now imagine Wakefield bidding adieu to his wife. It is the dusk of an October evening. His equipment is a drab great-coat, a hat covered with an oilcloth, top-boots, an umbrella in one hand and a small portmanteau in the other. He has informed Mrs. Wakefield that he is to take the night coach into the country. She would fain inquire the length of his journey, its object, and the probable time of his return; but, indulgent to his harmless love of mystery, interrogates him only by a look. He tells her not to expect him positively by the return coach, nor to be alarmed should he tarry three or four days; but, at all events, to look for him at supper on Friday evening. Wakefield himself, be it considered, has no suspicion of what is before him. He holds out his hand, she gives her own, and meets his parting kiss in the matter-of-course way of a ten years’ matrimony; and forth goes the middle-aged Mr. Wakefield, almost resolved to perplex his good lady by a whole week’s absence."
Rewrite Wakefield's departure in the perspective of the wife.
2. "Amid the seeming confusion of our mysterious world, individuals are so nicely adjusted to a system, and systems to one another and to a whole, that, by stepping aside for a moment, a man exposes himself to a fearful risk of losing his place forever."
Imagine Thoreau's reaction to this short story and to its concluding commentary. Make sure to weave in quotes from his text(s) or phrases that he might have written.
4 comments:
Prompt 1 -
Cecília Vaz
Let us now imagine Mrs. Wakefield bidding adieu to her feeble-minded husband. Sparing words he would lack the intellect to comprehend, she merely lifts her brow and he promptly tells her not to expect him by the return coach, nor to be alarmed should he tarry three or four days; but, at all events, to look for him at supper on Friday evening. She mechanically takes the hand he holds out and meets his coffee-bitter parting kiss in the matter-of-course way of a decade-long matrimony, and forth goes the middle-aged Mr. Wakefield. The woman gaped at the door closing behind him, in the threshold she caught a glimpse of his mischievous smile and she sighed deeply. The floor would require sweeping once again due to the state of his soiled boots. Nonetheless, she disregards the broom by the door and, with a quiet resolve, makes her way to the kitchen instead. Mrs. Wakefield brews herself some black tea and adds two ostensive cubes of sugar, until the cup is on the verge of overflowing.
What sort of a woman was Mrs. Wakefield? An exemplary wife who would tend to all of her husband's needs, care for his afflictions, bear with his selfishness and even advocate for his good character, despite her complete awareness of his flawed nature. Poor woman! That is, as long as he was in the house. However, much as the sugar in her cup, that man, the one who occupied so much space of her life, quickly melts away into the great mass of the extraordinarily packed London. Through the window, she witnesses with great delight his utter insignificance, while savoring the sweet flavor of her black tea.
Momentarily, that gaze turns to the mirrored image on the cup, fresh wrinkles smearing her beautiful face, she hurriedly swallows the tea. Mrs. Wakefield leaves the empty cup in the sink and fights the urge to wash it immediately. Each time she gave into her negligence, waves of excitement stirred within her, although, fortunately, since she was alone in the comfort of her empty home, there was not a soul on sight that could cast judgment upon her. Would her fellow-creatures of the opposite sex ever experience this mundane misdeed with the same exhilaration that she herself felt? “Time is always of the essence” thinks the woman convinced she should rejoice in the brief freedom of her domestic duties. Her conscience should be enlightened and her Heaven-endowed, God-given faculties most certainly had a greater purpose other than serving that capricious fool. So Mrs. Wakefield takes the Bible and desperately looks for whatever it was that could satisfy the cravings of her soul.
second part of prompt 1
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In the following mornings she takes to rising later than usual, and sets herself to consider the blessed widowhood of Mrs. Stone, her aunt who had spent the last forty years in the company of her servants and acquaintances. Thereupon, Mrs. Wakefield dreams of her husband in a coffin, a partinting devilish smile forever frozen on his pale features, she ‘most pitied the man she wedded. Haunted by such perverse thoughts, the good lady instinctively reaches a hand to the Bible and places it beside her in the now remarkably spacious bed. Smoothly, days passed by without a glimpse of Mr. Wakefield.
Suddenly, she finds herself stricken with a severe affliction of the bowels, which grievously weakens her body. Her physician, upon examination, declared that it was a malady that had befallen many of the poor souls in her neighborhood. In the course of a few weeks she gradually recovers aided by water and herbs prescribed by the apothecary, not to mention her at desperate times unwavering faith in God. In the wake of this incident, confronted with the atoms of her mortality, the woman comes to the resolve that her life, though brief, was not to be squandered in vain. To my own contemplations at least, that is the day when Mrs. Wakefield ultimately decides to live as though the source of her hesitations lay buried six feet beneath the Earth. Thus begins the time of her blessed widowhood felicity.
On a rather somber evening, in the twentieth year since her rebirth, Mrs. Wakefield opens her door to behold the ghost of the late Mr. Wakefield. Horrified, she hastily seeks to shut it again, but he stayed her with such force that he nearly shattered his hand on the threshold. “Does my dear wife not reckon her own husband?” he cried out. “The husband most dear to me” the widow mournfully replied “is the one who lies with the green sod above”.
This tragic event could only have occurred at an unpremeditated moment. We will not follow the demise of our once merry widow. She has left us much food for thought, a portion of which shall lend its wisdom to a moral, and be shaped into a figure. Amid the seeming confusion of our mysterious world, a woman is so awfully adjusted to a machinery of systems that aim to subdue the deepest yearnings of the feminine soul into social convention, that, by letting a man step away for a moment, a woman exposes herself to the risk of discovering her own nature. Like Mrs Wakefield, she may become the ruler of her Universe.
Cecília Vaz
When I finished the piece, I gather feeling a mixture of both awe and confusion — at the beginning of Wakefield’s journey, I enjoyed how Hawthorne played with societal laws and transcended them, thus gifting us with an individual with a great capacity of reflection and retreating that one ought to envy — though, I am not sure I can say I enjoyed the resolution. Maybe I was expectant of a too exciting ending with a clear moral lesson that would wake up the reader and excite in him a call for action, however, I dare say Wakefield is not one of the most inspiring characters for the purpose that our country, unfortunately, lacks. I don’t mean to be too harsh a critic and expect a tale with the morals of our great Washington and Franklin — and I am aware that’s not Hawthorne’s style, alluding now to Goodman Brown’s frail morality — but I reckon I don’t stand alone when I state that Wakefield seemed like an aimless ghost in his own world — too indifferent, to akin to reality — too passive a man does not suit my taste, though I do mean to come as one who stand with violence. Indeed, Wakefield was never part of the Standing Army, of the Machine, “of the system” — he wasn’t made of clay, that’s true, but I am saddened and unmotivated to be presented with a character that did not partake in a Revolution. He intended to not be part of the Masses, but turns out he unconsciously became a shadow of his potencial (and too many years late!) — that’s the greatest downfall for an individual, for his promise to go to waste. In the near future, I wish to be met with stories that educate my fellow-countrymen and inspire generations, to drink from the cup of Excitement and feast on Visions of Improvement.
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