"Your bird -- there was nothing I could do -- he just caught fire!"

"'I in the thorny bush,' she said. 'Thorns, you doing your appointed work. Never want to let folks pass, no sir. Old eyes thought you was a pretty little green bush'" ("A Worn Path," 8).

Here is my precise, well-developed sentence that states as fully as possible the theme of the story, avoiding cliches and oversimplification, which is probably inferior to the themes that other people find: "Persistence and courage, more than age and strength, can lead to a humble yet satisfying reward." And now, I will support that.

The first half of my theme: Phoenix exhibits "persistence and courage," even though her "age and strength" are serious obstacles. Throughout the story, Phoenix overcame several obstacles on her journey -- she persevered through a thorny bush (8), mounted a log (13), encountered a ghost-like scarecrow (24), faced a hunter's dog (35), and stared down the barrel of a gun (55). Her response to all of these situations was pure fearlessness. Phoenix is an "old Negro woman" (1), her eyes "blue with age" (2), but her endurance and fearlessness ultimately lead her to her reward. What a nice lead-in to the second half of my theme!

The second half of my theme: Phoenix's reward was "humble yet satisfying." According to the nurse, the old woman makes trips "as regular as clockwork" (78) because her grandson has a throat problem (84). With the two nickels she acquired along her journey, she decided to buy her sick grandson a little windmill (103). At the close of the story, Phoenix shows her appreciation with a "little nod" and amazingly continued on her journey (104). Something about going to Hell and back again for her grandson gives her a sense of satisfaction because she keeps doing it.

I feel I should add that the tears of a phoenix have tremendous healing powers, and the claws of a phoenix can gouge out the eyes of a basilisk. Fawkes is pretty humble, persistent, and courageous in Harry Potter. Maybe that's how Eudora Welty decided to name her character "Phoenix."

Pros and Cons

"No! No! No! It was impossible. Her hands clutched the iron in frenzy. Amid the seas she sent a cry of anguish!" ("Eveline," 24).

The sixth question for "Eveline" in Perrine's awkwardly shaped textbook asks if Eveline decided not to board the ship. My answer is that she could have made a logical decision based on her feelings about her present circumstances and her potential life with Frank, but Eveline herself never made that conscious decision. First, let's look at the pros and cons of Eveline's life, which Eveline should have done more critically:

Pros: Her home is "familiar" to her, and she "never dreamed of being divided" from the objects within her house -- she shows no desire to part with that familiarity (3). Additionally, while her father can be violent, threatening, frugal, restrictive, and completely incompetent, he can be "very nice" sometimes and made her toast once (13). Who could leave a model father like that? In all seriousness, Eveline has a connection to her father not because he is an apt father but because he is her father. Finally, she promised her dead mother that she would "keep the home together as long as she could" (14). To be clear, she made the promise when her dead mother was alive.

Cons: Eveline works extremely hard "in the Stores" for her family, and her supervisor, Miss Gavan, was demanding of her (5). I already listed the cons of her father within the pros, but I can repeat them: "violent, threatening, frugal, restrictive, and completely incompetent" (9). In addition to the difficult life at home, Eveline has a potential life with promise. In Buenos Aires, Eveline would marry Frank, who is "kind," "manly," and "open-hearted" (10). Spell check thinks I should change "open-hearted" to "open-heated" -- perhaps this is an indication of Frank's loving warmth. This potential life serves as a kind of foil to her present life in Dublin.

How did Eveline finally make the decision not to board the ship? For the same reason that I think she is the one of the most annoying characters we have encountered in this class; Eveline made a last minute decision, and it seems like there was no will in the decision. She "prayed to God to direct her," so there could have been some divine intervention (19). When a metaphorical "bell clanged upon her heart," Eveline had an epiphany that Frank would metaphorically "drown her" (20-22). "No! No! No! It was impossible" (24). Eveline could not decide to leave with Frank, for whatever sudden reason, which probably had something to do with a theme having to do with a spiritual connection to one's home that prevents him from exploring new destinations.

With submission, sir . . .

"So that Turkey's paroxysms only coming on about twelve o'clock, I never had to do with their eccentricities at one time. Their fits relieved each other like guards" ("Bartleby the Scrivener," 13).

Question Thirteen asks about humor, so let's talk about the humor.

I found this story a bit tedious but genuinely funny. The images of certain characters was extremely humorous to me -- it took a while for me to recover after the "guards" simile. What it does is characterizes Turkey and Nippers in a very engaging way; it also creates some sympathy for the narrator, who has to deal with exactly one ill-tempered person at a time. The little repetitive phrases like "with submission, sir" (Turkey, various moments) also served as what I thought were funny characterization methods. There are other instances like this, but let's turn to Bartleby.

There's a strong contrast between the narrator and Bartleby when the narrator asks for something to be done. For example, when the narrator first explained that Bartleby needed to help examine the copies, he did so "hurriedly" with little patience (30). Bartleby, on the other hand, always maintained composure, no matter how weird he was. There are very ironic moments where the narrator will describe how intensely hardworking Bartleby is, and then Bartleby will inconsistently be of no assistance to the narrator.

Then again, I couldn't stop laughing when I was reading the poem "Edward," so I probably have little right to speak on the subject of humor.

I would prefer not to analyze this story.

"The report was this: that Bartleby had been a subordinate clerk in the Dead Letter Office at Washington, from which he had been suddenly removed by a change in the administration. When I think over this rumor, I cannot adequately express the emotions which seize me. Dead letters! does it not sound like dead men?" ("Bartleby the Scrivener," 250).

Question Eight asks about Bartleby's motivation behind his behavior, Melville's motivation behind his withholding this piece of information, and the extent to which this information adequately explains Bartleby. So I'm going to answer about it!

The narrator suggests that if Bartleby were already pallidly hopeless, working in the Dead Letter Office would make him even more hopeless. If this rumor is true, which is all I can assume, then Bartleby spent a great deal of time sorting dead letters for destruction -- letters, bank notes, rings never to be delivered. Bartleby's "I would prefer not to" attitude may not be annoying as much as it is hopeless. If I lacked hope to the extent that Bartleby did, I would have trouble working as a copyist, too -- perhaps not to Bartleby's extent, but characters have to be exaggerated.

So why does Melville hold off this last piece of information? I think that Melville wants us to detest Bartleby during the story. How annoying is it that he refuses to be of any additional help to the narrator? How creepy is it that he stays in the office for abnormal amounts of time and refuses to leave even when the office is gone? Then, once we have this crucial piece of information, we might (reluctantly) develop a feeling of pity for Bartleby. It's kind of like a guilt trip, I think. We spend the entire three hours we read the story being put off by Bartleby's words and actions when we fail to consider what traumatic past he may have endured. Bartleby may seem flat on the surface but is very round on the inside. I'm not calling him fat.

This is kind of morphing into a bland theme of "don't judge someone because you don't know what his situation is." Melville says it better. Albeit much longer.

I hate Kenny. Haha, just kidding.

"Kenny turned to Tub. 'I hate you.'

Tub shot from the waist" ("Hunters in the Snow," 79-80).

Let's synthesize the last two units! There are several instances in the story where plot and characterization work together, and important plot points are arguably a direct result of characeters' personalities.

Example One: "You Shot Me"

Kenny's character is described very richly in the beginning of the story; a huge part of his character is his inability to know where to stop a practical joke. He nearly ran over Tub on the first page of the story, but Kenny was "just messing around" (7). He provoked Frank about a secret babysitter situation, but Kenny laughed it off (22). Unsurprisingly, this got him into a wee bit of trouble. Kenny pretended to shoot a post, a tree, and a dog out of hatred (71-78). A direct result of this character trait was Tub's shooting Kenny out of personal defense (80). I had no idea it was a joke until Kenny said he was "just kidding around" again (84).

Example Two: We Don't Need Directions

The farmer gave Tub and Frank directions to the nearest hospital, but Tub left them "on the table back there" at a bar where they stopped (209). Tub's character is revealed throughout the story to be, well, not very quick in the mind. Or the body. As an ultimate result, the three characters never arrived at the hospital in time to help Kenny (239). Good work, Tub.

If I could find it, I would embed the clip of "Pirates of the Caribbean" where the guy says, "He shot me!" Just so you know.