question on readings

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Question Description

Discussion Board Issue 1

Post some ideas you have about issues you think you have identified from the texts you have read from Unit

6 so far. Be specific and detailed and remember not to confuse the issue with the action.

Look for the insight into what the story is getting to.

Make sure you relate your discussion points to a Perspective of some type.

Questions to answer:

1)“Araby”

The tension in the story comes from the drab reality of the boy’s world contrasted with his romantic illusions

of love-there is a clear disparity here between these two notions.

Look for the references that describe his quest and the perspective from which he views Mangan’s sister.

Which disciplinary perspective is appropriate here?

Explain why the boy is unnamed.

Explain the difference between how the narrator views the events now in relationship to when they occurred.

How do the religious images and terminology reveal thematic aspects of the story? Give details.

How does the last line of the story explain the strongest theme here in the story?

Describe the boy’s Epiphany in “Araby”-look up the term if you are not familiar with it and be specific in your

explanation.

2)“Hills Like White Elephants”

In “Hills Like White Elephants”, describe the setting and relate the significance of this setting to the

relationship between the man and girl.

In “Hills Like White Elephant”, select several significant details and explain how they relate to the story and

in particular reveal thematic aspects of the story.

Which disciplinary perspective is appropriate here?

Explain the relevance of the number two in the story-it is referenced multiple times.

What is the main theme here in this story? The story is virtually all dialogue, so the theme comes out of the

conversation. Note, in conversation look for what is not said as well as the actual words spoken.

Make sure you look up all the definitions of a White Elephant and consider what definitions are applicable in

the context of the story.

3)“Thirty Four Seasons of Winter”

Write a paragraph that describes how the story made you feel. Look at the lives of Ben, Clara, and Stephanie

from the beginning to the end of the story. In particular, look at Ben and Clara for parallels in their lives.

What issues does this story bring to light that are issues from the real World?

4)“Kids, the Internet, and the end of Privacy: The Greatest Generation Gap Since Rock and Roll” by

Emily Nussbaum (look it up in google)

Here were are today in 2016 with what you see described in this article so not think about ten years in the

future.

What issues do you see on the horizon?

Will there be more problems than now or fewer? Why? Explain?

Submit your responses as one document and as an attachment

Discussion Board Issue 2

Take two of the texts from this unit and then post two specific thesis statements that might be used to write

an essay on an issue you see in those particular texts.

Make sure you relate your discussion points to a Perspective ( if applicable) –

Social Class, Race and Ethnicity, Gender Roles, Religion, Political Affiliation, Crisis Impaired, and

Socio Economic or some other areas of interest are places to start.

Here is your chance to test drive a thesis statement for your next essay.

Make sure you give some critical and substantive feedback to your peer’s thesis statements.

Your initial Post addressing should be 150 words minimum

Unformatted Attachment Preview

[text] Araby - a short story by James Joyce : Frisson FRONT ALL RANDOM GADGETS SPORTS 6/10/15, 1:58 PM GAMING PICS WORLDNEWS VIDEOS ASKREDDIT AWW MUSIC FUNNY NEWS MOVIES BOOKS ACTIVATE NIGHT MODE comments 18 related [text] Araby - a short story by James Joyce HISTORY FOOD MORE » want to join? sign in or create an account in seconds English ( self.Frisson ) search submitted 1 year ago by Margok From Dubliners (1914). Text is in the public domain. Text source Araby North Richmond Street, being blind, was a quiet street except at the hour when the Christian Brothers' School set the boys free. An uninhabited house of two storeys stood at the blind end, detached from its neighbours in a square ground. The other houses of the street, conscious of decent lives within them, gazed at one another with brown imperturbable faces. The former tenant of our house, a priest, had died in the back drawing-room. Air, musty from having been long enclosed, hung in all the rooms, and the waste room behind the kitchen was littered with old useless papers. Among these I found a few paper-covered books, the pages of which were curled and damp: The Abbot, by Walter Scott, The Devout Communicant, and The Memoirs of Vidocq. I liked the last best because its leaves were yellow. The wild garden behind the house contained a central apple-tree and a few straggling bushes, under one of which I found the late tenant's rusty bicycle-pump. He had been a very charitable priest; in his will he had left all his money to institutions and the furniture of his house to his sister. When the short days of winter came, dusk fell before we had well eaten our dinners. When we met in the street the houses had grown sombre. The space of sky above us was the colour of ever-changing violet and towards it the lamps of the street lifted their feeble lanterns. The cold air stung us and we played till our bodies glowed. Our shouts echoed in the silent street. The career of our play brought us through the dark muddy lanes behind the houses, where we ran the gauntlet of the rough tribes from the cottages, to the back doors of the dark dripping gardens where http://www.reddit.com/r/Frisson/comments/1j5mj1/text_araby_a_short_story_by_james_joyce/ this post was submitted on 27 Jul 2013 18 points (80% upvoted) shortlink: http://redd.it/1j5mj1 username password remember me login reset password discuss this ad on reddit Submit A New Link Submit A New Text Frisson subscribe 106,178 Frissons Hover over the items below to view more details. Mobile users please click here for full rules. WHAT IS FRISSON? SORT BY FLAIR 1. AMBIGUOUS TITLES WILL BE REMOVED: 2. TAG YOUR POSTS: 3. REPOSTS ARE ALLOWED, BUT... Page 1 of 8 [text] Araby - a short story by James Joyce : Frisson odours arose from the ashpits, to the dark odorous stables where a coachman smoothed and combed the horse or shook music from the buckled harness. When we returned to the street, light from the kitchen windows had filled the areas. If my uncle was seen turning the corner, we hid in the shadow until we had seen him safely housed. Or if Mangan's sister came out on the doorstep to call her brother in to his tea, we watched her from our shadow peer up and down the street. We waited to see whether she would remain or go in and, if she remained, we left our shadow and walked up to Mangan's steps resignedly. She was waiting for us, her figure defined by the light from the half-opened door. Her brother always teased her before he obeyed, and I stood by the railings looking at her. Her dress swung as she moved her body, and the soft rope of her hair tossed from side to side. Every morning I lay on the floor in the front parlour watching her door. The blind was pulled down to within an inch of the sash so that I could not be seen. When she came out on the doorstep my heart leaped. I ran to the hall, seized my books and followed her. I kept her brown figure always in my eye and, when we came near the point at which our ways diverged, I quickened my pace and passed her. This happened morning after morning. I had never spoken to her, except for a few casual words, and yet her name was like a summons to all my foolish blood. Her image accompanied me even in places the most hostile to romance. On Saturday evenings when my aunt went marketing I had to go to carry some of the parcels. We walked through the flaring streets, jostled by drunken men and bargaining women, amid the curses of labourers, the shrill litanies of shop-boys who stood on guard by the barrels of pigs' cheeks, the nasal chanting of street-singers, who sang a come-allyou about O'Donovan Rossa, or a ballad about the troubles in our native land. These noises converged in a single sensation of life for me: I imagined that I bore my chalice safely through a throng of foes. Her name sprang to my lips at moments in strange prayers and praises which I myself did not understand. My eyes were often full of tears (I could not tell why) and at times a flood from my heart seemed to pour itself out into my bosom. I thought little of the future. I did not know whether I would ever speak to her or not or, if I spoke to her, how I could tell her of my confused adoration. But my body http://www.reddit.com/r/Frisson/comments/1j5mj1/text_araby_a_short_story_by_james_joyce/ 6/10/15, 1:58 PM 4. PLEASE BE TASTEFUL WHEN COMMENTING: 5. PLEASE REPORT VIOLATIONS TO THE MODS: RELATED LINKS: created by XSeveredX a community for 3 years discuss this ad on reddit MODERATORS XSeveredX SailingWhistle TheSimpleArtist TheZerocrat jensenj2 Deatvert carlinha1289 invalid_usernameabout moderation team » < > discussions in /r/Frisson X 40 points · 9 comments [Music] Gotye - Bronte Page 2 of 8 [text] Araby - a short story by James Joyce : Frisson 6/10/15, 1:58 PM was like a harp and her words and gestures were like fingers running upon the wires. One evening I went into the back drawing-room in which the priest had died. It was a dark rainy evening and there was no sound in the house. Through one of the broken panes I heard the rain impinge upon the earth, the fine incessant needles of water playing in the sodden beds. Some distant lamp or lighted window gleamed below me. I was thankful that I could see so little. All my senses seemed to desire to veil themselves and, feeling that I was about to slip from them, I pressed the palms of my hands together until they trembled, murmuring: 'O love! O love!' many times. At last she spoke to me. When she addressed the first words to me I was so confused that I did not know what to answer. She asked me was I going to Araby. I forgot whether I answered yes or no. It would be a splendid bazaar; she said she would love to go. 'And why can't you?' I asked. While she spoke she turned a silver bracelet round and round her wrist. She could not go, she said, because there would be a retreat that week in her convent. Her brother and two other boys were fighting for their caps, and I was alone at the railings. She held one of the spikes, bowing her head towards me. The light from the lamp opposite our door caught the white curve of her neck, lit up her hair that rested there and, falling, lit up the hand upon the railing. It fell over one side of her dress and caught the white border of a petticoat, just visible as she stood at ease. 'It's well for you,' she said. 'If I go,' I said, 'I will bring you something.' What innumerable follies laid waste my waking and sleeping thoughts after that evening! I wished to annihilate the tedious intervening days. I chafed against the work of school. At night in my bedroom and by day in the classroom her image came between me and the page I strove to read. The syllables of the word Araby were called to me through the silence in which my soul luxuriated and cast an Eastern enchantment over me. I asked for leave to go to the bazaar on Saturday night. My aunt was surprised, and hoped it was not some Freemason affair. I answered few questions in class. I watched my master's face pass from amiability to sternness; he hoped I was not beginning to idle. I could not call my wandering thoughts together. I had hardly any patience with the http://www.reddit.com/r/Frisson/comments/1j5mj1/text_araby_a_short_story_by_james_joyce/ Page 3 of 8 [text] Araby - a short story by James Joyce : Frisson 6/10/15, 1:58 PM serious work of life which, now that it stood between me and my desire, seemed to me child's play, ugly monotonous child's play. On Saturday morning I reminded my uncle that I wished to go to the bazaar in the evening. He was fussing at the hallstand, looking for the hat-brush, and answered me curtly: 'Yes, boy, I know.' As he was in the hall I could not go into the front parlour and lie at the window. I felt the house in bad humour and walked slowly towards the school. The air was pitilessly raw and already my heart misgave me. When I came home to dinner my uncle had not yet been home. Still it was early. I sat staring at the clock for some time and, when its ticking began to irritate me, I left the room. I mounted the staircase and gained the upper part of the house. The high, cold, empty, gloomy rooms liberated me and I went from room to room singing. From the front window I saw my companions playing below in the street. Their cries reached me weakened and indistinct and, leaning my forehead against the cool glass, I looked over at the dark house where she lived. I may have stood there for an hour, seeing nothing but the brown-clad figure cast by my imagination, touched discreetly by the lamplight at the curved neck, at the hand upon the railings and at the border below the dress. When I came downstairs again I found Mrs Mercer sitting at the fire. She was an old, garrulous woman, a pawnbroker's widow, who collected used stamps for some pious purpose. I had to endure the gossip of the tea-table. The meal was prolonged beyond an hour and still my uncle did not come. Mrs Mercer stood up to go: she was sorry she couldn't wait any longer, but it was after eight o'clock and she did not like to be out late, as the night air was bad for her. When she had gone I began to walk up and down the room, clenching my fists. My aunt said: 'I'm afraid you may put off your bazaar for this night of Our Lord.' At nine o'clock I heard my uncle's latchkey in the hall door. I heard him talking to himself and heard the hallstand rocking when it had received the weight of his overcoat. I could interpret these signs. When he was midway through his dinner I asked him to give me the money to go to the bazaar. He had forgotten. 'The people are in bed and after their first sleep now,' http://www.reddit.com/r/Frisson/comments/1j5mj1/text_araby_a_short_story_by_james_joyce/ Page 4 of 8 [text] Araby - a short story by James Joyce : Frisson 6/10/15, 1:58 PM he said. I did not smile. My aunt said to him energetically: 'Can't you give him the money and let him go? You've kept him late enough as it is.' My uncle said he was very sorry he had forgotten. He said he believed in the old saying: 'All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy.' He asked me where I was going and, when I told him a second time, he asked me did I know The Arab's Farewell to his Steed. When I left the kitchen he was about to recite the opening lines of the piece to my aunt. I held a florin tightly in my hand as I strode down Buckingham Street towards the station. The sight of the streets thronged with buyers and glaring with gas recalled to me the purpose of my journey. I took my seat in a third-class carriage of a deserted train. After an intolerable delay the train moved out of the station slowly. It crept onward among ruinous houses and over the twinkling river. At Westland Row Station a crowd of people pressed to the carriage doors; but the porters moved them back, saying that it was a special train for the bazaar. I remained alone in the bare carriage. In a few minutes the train drew up beside an improvised wooden platform. I passed out on to the road and saw by the lighted dial of a clock that it was ten minutes to ten. In front of me was a large building which displayed the magical name. I could not find any sixpenny entrance and, fearing that the bazaar would be closed, I passed in quickly through a turnstile, handing a shilling to a wearylooking man. I found myself in a big hall girded at half its height by a gallery. Nearly all the stalls were closed and the greater part of the hall was in darkness. I recognized a silence like that which pervades a church after a service. I walked into the centre of the bazaar timidly. A few people were gathered about the stalls which were still open. Before a curtain, over which the words Café Chantant were written in coloured lamps, two men were counting money on a salver. I listened to the fall of the coins. Remembering with difficulty why I had come, I went over to one of the stalls and examined porcelain vases and flowered tea-sets. At the door of the stall a young lady was talking and laughing with two young gentlemen. I remarked their English accents and listened vaguely to their conversation. 'O, I never said such a thing!' 'O, but you did!' http://www.reddit.com/r/Frisson/comments/1j5mj1/text_araby_a_short_story_by_james_joyce/ Page 5 of 8 [text] Araby - a short story by James Joyce : Frisson 6/10/15, 1:58 PM 'O, but I didn't!' 'Didn't she say that?' 'Yes. I heard her.' 'O, there's a... fib!' Observing me, the young lady came over and asked me did I wish to buy anything. The tone of her voice was not encouraging; she seemed to have spoken to me out of a sense of duty. I looked humbly at the great jars that stood like eastern guards at either side of the dark entrance to the stall and murmured: 'No, thank you.' The young lady changed the position of one of the vases and went back to the two young men. They began to talk of the same subject. Once or twice the young lady glanced at me over her shoulder. I lingered before her stall, though I knew my stay was useless, to make my interest in her wares seem the more real. Then I turned away slowly and walked down the middle of the bazaar. I allowed the two pennies to fall against the sixpence in my pocket. I heard a voice call from one end of the gallery that the light was out. The upper part of the hall was now completely dark. Gazing up into the darkness I saw myself as a creature driven and derided by vanity; and my eyes burned with anguish and anger. 8 comments share all 8 comments sorted by: best Comments should contribute to the conversation, and overall, be positive. Report any comments that aren't. [–] Diminishing 6 points 1 year ago I love love Joyce, and I love love Araby, but I gotta say I've never frissoned from it. permalink [–] Luchador10K 3 points 1 year ago TL;DR permalink [–] consciousxchaos 6 points 1 year ago TL;DR Kid is madly in love with friends older sister who he's spoken to once. Wants to go to a market to buy her something nice. He gets to the market only to realize he is poor and can't http://www.reddit.com/r/Frisson/comments/1j5mj1/text_araby_a_short_story_by_james_joyce/ Page 6 of 8 [text] Araby - a short story by James Joyce : Frisson 6/10/15, 1:58 PM afford anything. He leaves the market mad at himself for his feelings and situation. permalink parent [–] faiban 1 point 1 year ago I don't see that realization in the text. permalink parent [–] consciousxchaos 3 points 1 year ago "Gazing up into the darkness I saw myself as a creature driven and derided by vanity; and my eyes burned with anguish and anger." If you were talking about his feelings. "Observing me, the young lady came over and asked me did I wish to buy anything. The tone of her voice was not encouraging; she seemed to have spoken to me out of a sense of duty. I looked humbly at the great jars that stood like eastern guards at either side of the dark entrance to the stall and murmured: 'No, thank you.'" If you were talking about the money. He felt out of place, and was treated so, because he had only two pennies and sixpence when everything around him was porcelain and expensive. permalink parent [–] faiban 1 point 1 year ago Huh. Okay, thanks :) permalink parent [–] consciousxchaos 2 points 1 year ago No problem :) I had to study this and other stories from Dubliners during my AP class. I was surprised when I saw it on here. permalink parent [–] thejoshea72 3 points 1 year ago lol I know right? I feel so bad but it's just there's so much on the internet to read... permalink parent ABOUT blog about values team source code HELP APPS & TOOLS <3 site rules FAQ wiki reddiquette transparency Alien Blue iOS app reddit AMA app mobile beta buttons reddit gold reddit store redditgifts reddit.tv radio reddit http://www.reddit.com/r/Frisson/comments/1j5mj1/text_araby_a_short_story_by_james_joyce/ Page 7 of 8 [text] Araby - a short story by James Joyce : Frisson advertise jobs 6/10/15, 1:58 PM contact us Use of this site constitutes acceptance of our User Agreement and Privacy Policy {Genitive}. © 2015 reddit inc. All rights reserved. REDDIT and the ALIEN Logo are registered trademarks of reddit inc. π http://www.reddit.com/r/Frisson/comments/1j5mj1/text_araby_a_short_story_by_james_joyce/ Page 8 of 8 “Hills Like White Elephants” By Ernest Hemingway The hills across the valley of the Ebro were long and white. On this side there was no shade and no trees and the station was between two lines of rails in the sun. Close against the side of the station there was the warm shadow of the building and a curtain, made of strings of bamboo beads, hung across the open door into the bar, to keep out flies. The American and the girl with him sat at a table in the shade, outside the building. It was very hot and the express from Barcelona would come in forty minutes. It stopped at this junction for two minutes and went to Madrid. ‘What should we drink?’ the girl asked. She had taken off her hat and put it on the table. ‘It’s pretty hot,’ the man said. ‘Let’s drink beer.’ ‘Dos cervezas,’ the man said into the curtain. ‘Big ones?’ a woman asked from the doorway. ‘Yes. Two big ones.’ The woman brought two glasses of beer and two felt pads. She put the felt pads and the beer glass on the table and looked at the man and the girl. The girl was looking off at the line of hills. They were white in the sun and the country was brown and dry. ‘They look like white elephants,’ she said. ‘I’ve never seen one,’ the man drank his beer. ‘No, you wouldn’t have.’ ‘I might have,’ the man said. ‘Just because you say I wouldn’t have doesn’t prove anything.’ The girl looked at the bead curtain. ‘They’ve painted something on it,’ she said. ‘What does it say?’ ‘Anis del Toro. It’s a drink.’ ‘Could we try it?’ The man called ‘Listen’ through the curtain. The woman came out from the bar. ‘Four reales.’ ‘We want two Anis del Toro.’ ‘With water?’ ‘Do you want it with water?’ ‘I don’t know,’ the girl said. ‘Is it good with water?’ ‘It’s all right.’ ‘You want them with water?’ asked the woman. ‘Yes, with water.’ ‘It tastes like liquorice,’ the girl said and put the glass down. ‘That’s the way with everything.’ ‘Yes,’ said the girl. ‘Everything tastes of liquorice. Especially all the things you’ve waited so long for, like absinthe.’ ‘Oh, cut it out.’ ‘You started it,’ the girl said. ‘I was being amused. I was having a fine time.’ ‘Well, let’s try and have a fine time.’ ‘All right. I was trying. I said the mountains looked like white elephants. Wasn’t that bright?’ ‘That was bright.’ ‘I wanted to try this new drink. That’s all we do, isn’t it – look at things and try new drinks?’ ‘I guess so.’ The girl looked across at the hills. ‘They’re ...
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henryprofessor
School: University of Maryland

Attached.

Running head: QUESTIONS ON READINGS

Questions on Readings
Name
Institution

1

QUESTIONS ON READINGS

2
Questions on Readings
Discussion Board Issue 1
1. “Araby”

References that Describe the Boy’s Quest and the Perspective from Which he Views
Mangan’s Sister.
"Araby" describes this boy’s takes quest as a journey that involves the search of something
precious and sacred. But, the quest is eventually in vain. This indicates that even though the boy
ultimately gets to the much highly anticipated bazaar, he reaches there too late to buy this girl:
Mangan's sister a very decent gift from there. And therefore he might have just remained at
home. This boy views Mangan’s sister as an intoxicate of feelings of joy and some elation. As he
views Mangan’s sister as a treasure, he travels to get a gift only to find the the bazaar closing
down minutes after he arrived. He apprehends that Mangan’s sister will flop his expectations,
and that his desirable views for her is essentially only a vain wish for a change.
Disciplinary Perspective is Appropriate
There arises a disciplinary perspective from the whole narrative that Instead of reaffirming love
or rather realizing that one does not require gifts to express emotional feelings like in the case of
Mangan’s sister, where the speaker basically gives up. This may be referenced that selfactualization and contentedness remain detached with the Dubliners, even in the rarest events of
the city like a yearly bazaar.
Reason Why the Boy is Unnamed
The boy is unnamed since he appears to be the narrator of the whole experience.

QUESTIONS ON READINGS

3

Difference Between How the Narrator Views the Events now in Relationship to When They
Occurred.
The narrator views the events contrary as they were. In the relation he understands that his
arrival at the b...

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