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Thursday, September 12, 2013
WHY SHOULD A NOVEL BE INCLUDED IN THE LITERARY CANON?
THE LITERARY CANON
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(START WITH A DEFINITION OF THE CANON) e.g. The Western Canon
of English literature is a compilation of literary excellence representative of
the attitudes, *values and beliefs
of an era. The canon contains literary works that answer human beings’ deepest
fears and concerns. To be included in the canon, a novel’s literary value and
themes must endure over time, thus still be of influence to contemporary
readers. (NAME OF YOUR AUTHOR/TEXT TITLE) is valued as one the greatest novels
in western culture, due to its enduring (THEMES/QUALITIES/VALUES) since its
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AUTHOR – WHY AUTHOR WROTE IT). Through this literary work, AUTHOR
strived/attempted to (WHAT WAS HE TRYING TO DO?) RELATE WHAT AUTHOR ATTEMPTED
TO CONTEMPORARY SOCIETY – YOUR THESIS/3 ARGUMENTS YOU WILL PROVE…
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THE PICTURE OF DORIAN GRAY - NOVEL - CLASSICS - CANON - WHY SHOULD THIS NOVEL BE INCLUDED IN THE CANON?
THE OSCHOLARS LIBRARY
"In a mirror that mirrors the soul":
MASKS AND MIRRORS IN DORIAN GRAY
MASKS AND MIRRORS IN DORIAN GRAY
WHY SOULD THE PICTURE OF DORIAN GRAY BE INCLUDED IN THE CANON OF WESTERN LITERATURE?
In recent decades scholars have generally agreed that The Picture of Dorian Gray retains its position in the literary canon because of the "pre-modern" critical and aesthetic theories upon which the novel is based.1 The failure of Dorian, it has been noted, to achieve the aesthetic ideals of Wilde's generation clearly sounds the death knell of the Aesthetic Movement even as it heralds the ennui of the fin de siècle.
As a carefully constructed novel, Dorian Gray has attracted only moderate interest, perhaps because the rather mechanical plot bears such an intriguing relationship to Wilde's own life. In fact, Wilde's damnation of his young aesthete is now usually adduced as evidence of an intense self-consciousness of Wilde's own fall, a quality that Arthur Symons, in his bellwether essay "The Decadent Movement in Literature," identifies as the most striking characteristic of the Yellow Nineties.
No one can deny that the novel dramatizes the central aesthetic problem of its time, a problem that Wilde also struggles with in his essays. The tragedy of the artist depicted in Dorian Gray, however, is more artfully contrived than many critics seem willing to grant. Plot is not the only formal resource of the novel that Wilde uses to fashion his work. By placing what seems to be the most significant structural device--the notion of mirror images that reflect the masks of the characters--in the foreground, we can begin to appreciate that the novel's aesthetic design is far more subtle than having the plot damn the beautiful but fated protagonist.
Wilde himself tried to direct criticism away from the novel's outrageous innuendos and towards its aesthetic design. Attacked on all quarters, Wilde parried with the moralistic reviewers of the Lippincott's Monthly Magazine version by countering that the plot itself produced, & rather plain moral--though this, he conceded, was "the only error in the book.”
Wilde himself tried to direct criticism away from the novel's outrageous innuendos and towards its aesthetic design. Attacked on all quarters, Wilde parried with the moralistic reviewers of the Lippincott's Monthly Magazine version by countering that the plot itself produced, & rather plain moral--though this, he conceded, was "the only error in the book.”
Most of the public furor over the perversity of Dorian Grayshould no doubt be judged in light of the prevailing Victorian standard of moral earnestness as a mark of "sincerity," as Karl Beckson urges. In the eyes of his contemporaries, Wilde's carefully cultivated role as public sinner spoke louder than any protestations he made on behalf of his novel. Thus, despite his own best efforts in his defense, even a sympathetic critic like Walter Pater responded to topical interests rather than to the novel’s serious concerns :
Clever always, this book, however, seems to set forth anything but a homely philosophy of life for the middle-class--a kind of dainty Epicurean theory father--yet fails, to some degree, in this; and one can see why. A true Epicureanism aims at a complete though harmonious development of man's entire organism. To lose the moral sense therefore, for instance, the sense of sin and righteousness, as Mr. Wilde's heroes are bent on doing so speedily, as completely as they can, is to lose, or lower, organization, to become less complex, to pass from a higher to a lower degree of development.
Not even Pater seemed to recognize that Wilde's intention is to show the failure of the aesthetic ideal, not its triumph. One of the few who responded to the subtleties of Dorian Gray was Arthur Conan Doyle, to whom Wilde wrote in reply:
"The newspapers seem to me to be written by the prurient for the Philistine. I cannot understand how they can treat Dorian Gray as immoral. My difficulty was to keep the inherent moral subordinate to the artistic and dramatic effect, and it still seems to me that the moral is too obvious" (Letters, p. 292).
The "too obvious" moral refers of course to the main narrative sequence and the fate of Dorian. As concerned as Wilde was with the "artistic and dramatic effect," we ought to consider how other elements contribute to the form of the novel.
One consequence of neglecting the aesthetic form of Dorian Gray has been to undervalue the emblematic episode involving Sibyl Vane that creates basic expectations about life destroying art, expectations which the novel ultimately satisfies. Before he meets Sibyl, Dorian, who will become perhaps the greatest egotist of nineteenth-century literature, has an unrealized potential for good or evil.
One consequence of neglecting the aesthetic form of Dorian Gray has been to undervalue the emblematic episode involving Sibyl Vane that creates basic expectations about life destroying art, expectations which the novel ultimately satisfies. Before he meets Sibyl, Dorian, who will become perhaps the greatest egotist of nineteenth-century literature, has an unrealized potential for good or evil.
Dorian has done some work with Lady Agatha's East End philanthropy (p.39); and yet his petulance causes Basil a good deal of pain long before Lord Henry whispers his poisonous theories about sensation and pleasure (pp. 11-12). Complications arising from their relationship, however, force him to decide to escape the suffering of life by becoming a spectator to her tragedy.
Not only do the events involving Sibyl precipitate the crisis that results eventually in Dorian's failure as an artist, they also bring into sharp focus and give point to the most consistent pattern of imagery in the novel, the mirrored image.
The metaphor of the mirror is used carefully in Wilde's critical essays to express the superiority of art to life, a point modern critics should remember when tempted to read Dorian Gray simply as autobiography. Good art is not a crude mirrored reflection; for the critical observer, art should be a veiled reflection in which the critic's moods and mask can be discerned. As Wilde writes in "The Critic as Artist," by looking within, the artist creates "a mirror that mirrors the soul," by which he means a subtle vehicle through which the critic can discover the chronicle of his own myriad impressions. In the novel the mirror imagery highlights the confusion between the imagined and the real, between mask and mirror, and as such it is a key to understanding why artists fail to achieve their ideals.
Dorian is attracted to Sibyl because of her extraordinary powers as an artist. In fact, she seems to be the perfect representative of the artist-hero Wilde celebrates in the essays he wrote in the early nineties. Like the artist described in "The Decay of Lying," Sibyl multiplies her personality through the medium of the stage. "'She is all the great heroines of the world in one,'" Dorian explains, and she is never Sibyl Vane. Her character is strongly reminiscent of Pater's often-quoted assessment of the vicarious experiences reflected in that quintessence of aestheticism La Gioconda: "All the thoughts and experience of the world have etched and moulded there."
Sibyl, moreover, has a personality as magnetic as Dorian's and as capable of moving her age. Much as Dorian's personality had suggested to Basil "'an entirely new manner in Art, an entirely new mode of style . . . a school that is to have in it all the passion of the romantic spirit, all the perfection of the spirit that is Greek'" (p. 10), Sibyl also has the power to deeply affect her audience:
Dorian is attracted to Sibyl because of her extraordinary powers as an artist. In fact, she seems to be the perfect representative of the artist-hero Wilde celebrates in the essays he wrote in the early nineties. Like the artist described in "The Decay of Lying," Sibyl multiplies her personality through the medium of the stage. "'She is all the great heroines of the world in one,'" Dorian explains, and she is never Sibyl Vane. Her character is strongly reminiscent of Pater's often-quoted assessment of the vicarious experiences reflected in that quintessence of aestheticism La Gioconda: "All the thoughts and experience of the world have etched and moulded there."
Sibyl, moreover, has a personality as magnetic as Dorian's and as capable of moving her age. Much as Dorian's personality had suggested to Basil "'an entirely new manner in Art, an entirely new mode of style . . . a school that is to have in it all the passion of the romantic spirit, all the perfection of the spirit that is Greek'" (p. 10), Sibyl also has the power to deeply affect her audience:
"When she acts you will forget everything. These common, rough people, with their coarse faces and brutal gestures, become quite different when she is on the stage. They sit silently and watch her. They weep and laugh as she wills them to do. She makes them as responsive as a violin. She spiritualizes them, and one feels that they are of the same flesh and blood as one’s self." (p. 81)
The appearance of such personalities as Sibyl and Dorian is regarded as essential to inaugurate new eras in art. Basil explains this belief to Lord Henry in chapter 1 (pp. 1-10). The elaborate tale that Wilde concocts about Willie Hughes in "The Portrait of Mr. W. H." is also intended to demonstrate "that Shakespeare had been stirred by a spirit that so stirred his age" (Artist, p. 186). Thus Sibyl’s fate ought not to be overlooked.
Sibyl's importance as a character in the novel is further heightened by the fact that her life seems to imitate art, a jeu de mot Wilde takes delight in in his essay "The Decay of Lying." To explain his typically inverted epigram--"Life imitates Art far more than Art imitates Life"--Wilde argues that perception, which the artist helps to shape, is the key to knowledge:
Sibyl's importance as a character in the novel is further heightened by the fact that her life seems to imitate art, a jeu de mot Wilde takes delight in in his essay "The Decay of Lying." To explain his typically inverted epigram--"Life imitates Art far more than Art imitates Life"--Wilde argues that perception, which the artist helps to shape, is the key to knowledge:
Consider the matter from a scientific or a metaphysical point of view, and you will find that I am right. For what is Nature? Nature is no great mother who has borne us. She is our creation. It is in our brain that she quickens to life. Things are because we see them, and what we see and how we see it, depends on the Arts that have influenced us. (Artist, p. 312)
If Wilde fashions Sibyl’s character with this epigram in mind, already we can detect a certain fatalism, for away from the stage her life reads like a bad Victorian play. When her mother tries to warn her of the dangers of an assignation with a gentleman, Sibyl drowns out these objections by feasting on impressions of her "Prince Charming." She contrives an absurdly melodramatic scenario for her brother’s adventures on the high seas, even imagining the waves as "humpbacked" (p. 65), just as they would appear on a canvas stage flat. She is very nearly as histrionic as her mother, who herself feasts on the dramatic intensity of the scene with her son as she relates her sordid past (pp. 71-72). The very tawdriness of Sibyl's life, though, can only be seen as Wilde's first indication that this artist--who clearly stands in symbolic relation to the age--can never achieve her ideals.
The relationship between life and art, which Sibyl’s life dramatizes, is an issue that occupied many in the nineteenth century. The reigning poet laureate gives imaginative treatment to it in a poem that became a favorite subject for the Pre-Raphaelite Brotherhood, the precursors of the aesthetes of the eighties. "The Lady of Shalott" is generally read as a symbolic statement about life and art, and it has important parallels in Dorian Gray. Isolated from the world, the Lady only sees the world’s reflections in the mirror of her imagination; she weaves the reflections into art on her magic loom. When she turns to see Lancelot directly, however, her mirror cracks and her art is destroyed. Likewise, Sibyl lives in the isolated tower of the stage. Using her remarkable gifts as an artist, she "spiritualizes" her audience and transforms the stage at the shabby theater into the Forest of Arden or an orchard in Verona. When she kisses Dorian, though, she too loses her magical abilities.
Wilde invites an explicit comparison between Sibyl and the Lady of Shalott in the scenes at the theater following Sibyl's disastrous performance. As soon as she makes her appearance on stage, she steps back a few paces and her lips begin to tremble (p. 82). Formerly, she believed in the reality of this theatrical world--"'I knew nothing but shadows, and I thought them real'" (p. 85). But now she is repulsed by the hollowness of the empty pageant. Later, in her dressing room, Sibyl echoes the famous lines from Tennyson’s poem:
The relationship between life and art, which Sibyl’s life dramatizes, is an issue that occupied many in the nineteenth century. The reigning poet laureate gives imaginative treatment to it in a poem that became a favorite subject for the Pre-Raphaelite Brotherhood, the precursors of the aesthetes of the eighties. "The Lady of Shalott" is generally read as a symbolic statement about life and art, and it has important parallels in Dorian Gray. Isolated from the world, the Lady only sees the world’s reflections in the mirror of her imagination; she weaves the reflections into art on her magic loom. When she turns to see Lancelot directly, however, her mirror cracks and her art is destroyed. Likewise, Sibyl lives in the isolated tower of the stage. Using her remarkable gifts as an artist, she "spiritualizes" her audience and transforms the stage at the shabby theater into the Forest of Arden or an orchard in Verona. When she kisses Dorian, though, she too loses her magical abilities.
Wilde invites an explicit comparison between Sibyl and the Lady of Shalott in the scenes at the theater following Sibyl's disastrous performance. As soon as she makes her appearance on stage, she steps back a few paces and her lips begin to tremble (p. 82). Formerly, she believed in the reality of this theatrical world--"'I knew nothing but shadows, and I thought them real'" (p. 85). But now she is repulsed by the hollowness of the empty pageant. Later, in her dressing room, Sibyl echoes the famous lines from Tennyson’s poem:
"You had brought me something higher, something of which all art is but a reflection. You had made me understand what love really is. My love! my love! Prince Charming! Prince of Life! I have grown sick of shadows. You are more to me than all art can ever be. What have I to do with the puppets of a play?" (p. 86, italics added)
Just as with the Lady of Shalott, this glimpse of reality destroys Sibyl's ability to maintain the illusion--however superior that illusion may sometimes be—that constitutes art: "'I might mimic a passion that I do not feel, but I cannot mimic one that burns me like fire'" (p. 86).
As an artist who turns from the mirror to touch reality, Sibyl has run counter to Wilde’s dictum about the superiority of art to nature. In "The Decay of Lying" Wilde uses this same metaphor in formulating his critical position: "Life imitates Art . . . Life in fact is the mirror, and Art the reality" (Artist, p. 307).
As an artist who turns from the mirror to touch reality, Sibyl has run counter to Wilde’s dictum about the superiority of art to nature. In "The Decay of Lying" Wilde uses this same metaphor in formulating his critical position: "Life imitates Art . . . Life in fact is the mirror, and Art the reality" (Artist, p. 307).
The metaphor of the mirror is used quite consistently in Wilde’s critical essays, as we shall see, to describe the relationship between art, life, and the critic’s perceptions. The prominence of the mirrored reflection in Dorian Gray serves to link the novel very closely with Wilde's critical work. The allusion to "The Lady of Shalott" here is so obvious--and so melodramatic, especially with Dorian her "Prince Charming" as Lancelot—that mirrors and their reflections are brought into the foreground of the novel. What is more, Sibyl's failure to maintain the superiority of art to nature foreshadows the failure of the other characters to achieve their ideals.
The episode with Sibyl--especially during the twenty-four hours following her performance--is the turning point in the emergence of Dorian’s decadent egotism. In the early stage of their courtship, Dorian is as naive about life mirroring art as she is. He can only conceive of their love in terms of a stage romance. He begs Lord Henry to "'tell me how to charm Sibyl Vane to love me! I want to make Romeo jealous. I want the dead lovers of the world to hear our laughter, and grow sad'" (p. 54). Sibyl’s bad acting and subsequent death teach him a painful lesson about the illusion of momentary aesthetic experience. His instinctive reaction to the wooden Juliet he watches on stage is an aesthetic one: he expects great art but only gets "'a third-rate actress with a pretty face'" (p. 87), and so he is bored. Inside, though, his heart is breaking because he is losing something he feels he has been looking for all his life (p. 75). A single kiss has marred the idyllic experience they had both created so imaginatively.
Dorian's grief is more telling than he realizes. In forsaking her he is committed to a life of discontinuous sensations. Opposed to Sibyl's spiritualizing power is Lord Henry, who wants Dorian to be the type of the new Hedonism by always searching for new sensations (p. 22). This dream of aesthetic intensity, Charles Altieri argues, "is the longing for absolutely self-sufficient present moments. If every moment is self-sufficient, self-contained, then each moment is separate from another. Such discontinuity leads, as readers of the novel know, to the fragmentation and eventual disintegration of Dorian's personality. Sibyl offers an alternative to the headlong rush for new sensations. Perhaps it is the cathartic power of her art--for the narrator of "The Portrait of Mr. W. H." explains that "by finding perfect expression for a passion, I had exhausted the passion itself" (Artist, p. 212). Dorian, at any rate, recognizes that he is being tugged in different directions, as he tells Lord Henry:
Dorian's grief is more telling than he realizes. In forsaking her he is committed to a life of discontinuous sensations. Opposed to Sibyl's spiritualizing power is Lord Henry, who wants Dorian to be the type of the new Hedonism by always searching for new sensations (p. 22). This dream of aesthetic intensity, Charles Altieri argues, "is the longing for absolutely self-sufficient present moments. If every moment is self-sufficient, self-contained, then each moment is separate from another. Such discontinuity leads, as readers of the novel know, to the fragmentation and eventual disintegration of Dorian's personality. Sibyl offers an alternative to the headlong rush for new sensations. Perhaps it is the cathartic power of her art--for the narrator of "The Portrait of Mr. W. H." explains that "by finding perfect expression for a passion, I had exhausted the passion itself" (Artist, p. 212). Dorian, at any rate, recognizes that he is being tugged in different directions, as he tells Lord Henry:
"When I am with her, I regret all that you have taught me. I become different from what you have known me to be. I am changed, and the mere touch of Sibyl Vane's hand makes me forget you and all your wrong, fascinating, poisonous, delightful theories." (p. 77)
Just as Sibyl seems about to redeem Dorian, Wilde allows Lord Henry to arrive first at Dorian’s townhouse to shape his perceptions of "'one of the great romantic tragedies of the age'" (p. 109).
Wilde arranges the plot of Dorian Gray to demonstrate one of his frequently overlooked theories from Intentions: "we are never less free than when we try to act" (Artist, p. 383). Though his notion of heredity is a gallimaufry of genetic determinism and Nietzschean will, which Philip K. Cohen labels "confusion bordering On chaos," it is helpful in explaining aspects of the novel. Gilbert, the aesthetes’ spokesman in "The Critic as Artist," argues that genetics is the basis of all action:
Wilde arranges the plot of Dorian Gray to demonstrate one of his frequently overlooked theories from Intentions: "we are never less free than when we try to act" (Artist, p. 383). Though his notion of heredity is a gallimaufry of genetic determinism and Nietzschean will, which Philip K. Cohen labels "confusion bordering On chaos," it is helpful in explaining aspects of the novel. Gilbert, the aesthetes’ spokesman in "The Critic as Artist," argues that genetics is the basis of all action:
By revealing to us the absolute mechanism of all action, and so freeing us from the self-imposed and trammelling burden of moral responsibility, the scientific principle of Heredity has become, as it were, the warrant for the contemplative life. It has shown us that we are never less free than when we try to act. (Artist, pp. 382-83)
Heredity, he further argues, "has robbed energy of its freedom and activity of its choice" in the sphere of everyday life, thereby negating the importance of action. At the same time, heredity enriches the life of contemplation by endowing the soul with the imagination, which "is simply concentrated race-experience" (Artist, pp. 383-84). This quasi-scientific reasoning seems to be the foundation of Wilde's belief in the superiority of contemplation to action. As Lord Henry propounds in the opening chapters, the great challenge of life is to know thyself: "'The aim of life is self-development. To realize one's nature perfectly--that is what each of us is here for'" (p. 17). Dorian himself discovers that "man was a being with myriad lives and myriad sensations, a complex multiform creature that bore within itself strange legacies of thought and passion, and whose very flesh was tainted with the monstrous maladies of the dead" (p. 143). One's heritage is thus crucial in Wilde's estimation. To discover these "strange legacies," one can only look within--"in a mirror that mirrors the soul" (Artist, p. 383). Such a remarkable mechanism is precisely what Basil has created for Dorian.
Dorian is fascinated by his genetic and his literary ancestors. We learn of his tragic heritage soon after he meets Lord Henry, who goes immediately to an uncle for a clue to Dorian's character. Not surprisingly he finds that Dorian is the offspring of a romantic match between a beautiful, willful heiress and a subaltern later killed in a duel. Having learned the importance of heredity, Dorian spends hours strolling through the gallery at Selby Royal to "look at the various portraits of those whose blood flowed in his veins" (p. 143). Each of his ancestors, he feels, has bequeathed some complex sensation he himself must enact. Dorian discovers his progenitors in literature, where the imaginative record of civilization is transmitted, as well. Especially with the Roman emperor Domitian, Dorian feels sympathy; and in fact Domitian’s fate exactly presages Dorian’s: "as Domitian, [he] had wandered through a corridor lined with marble mirrors, looking round with haggard eyes for the reflection of the dagger that was to end his days, and sick with that ennui, that terrible taedium vitae, that comes on those to whom life denies nothing" (p. 145). Dorian is not the only character whose past seems to determine his future. Sibyl has nearly the same stormy parentage as Dorian, and she seems doomed to repeat the tragedy of her mother and grandmother.
The absence of free will is especially apparent in Wilde’s manipulation of the plot. A character’s resolve is frequently stymied by uncontrollable circumstances. In the opening chapter, for example, even as Basil--who has thus far managed to shelter Dorian from Lord Henry’s influences--decides that he will not allow the two to meet, his butler enters to announce that "'Mr. Dorian Gray is in the studio'" (p. 14). More importantly, though, Wilde contrives Lord Henry’s arrival at Dorian’s townhouse, instead of Basil’s, after the performance when Dorian is trying to resist temptation and is vowing to return to Sibyl. The news of her suicide unnerves Dorian because he realizes his peril: "'My God! my God! Harry, what shall I do? You don't know the danger I am in, and there is nothing to keep me straight. She would have done that for me'" (p. 99). Knowing that the turning point is at hand for Dorian, Lord Henry allows Dorian’s "unconscious egotism" (p. 100) to go unchecked in order to shape his perception of the event. He finds it easy to convince Dorian that Sibyl had never been other than a succession of romantic heroines for him; consequently, he must think of her death "'simply as a strange lurid fragment from some Jacobean tragedy. . . . The girl never really lived, and so she has never really died'" (p. 103). He thus becomes the spectator of his own life to escape its suffering. Dorian finally realizes that not only has Lord Henry explained him to himself, but has in fact made his decision for him:
Dorian is fascinated by his genetic and his literary ancestors. We learn of his tragic heritage soon after he meets Lord Henry, who goes immediately to an uncle for a clue to Dorian's character. Not surprisingly he finds that Dorian is the offspring of a romantic match between a beautiful, willful heiress and a subaltern later killed in a duel. Having learned the importance of heredity, Dorian spends hours strolling through the gallery at Selby Royal to "look at the various portraits of those whose blood flowed in his veins" (p. 143). Each of his ancestors, he feels, has bequeathed some complex sensation he himself must enact. Dorian discovers his progenitors in literature, where the imaginative record of civilization is transmitted, as well. Especially with the Roman emperor Domitian, Dorian feels sympathy; and in fact Domitian’s fate exactly presages Dorian’s: "as Domitian, [he] had wandered through a corridor lined with marble mirrors, looking round with haggard eyes for the reflection of the dagger that was to end his days, and sick with that ennui, that terrible taedium vitae, that comes on those to whom life denies nothing" (p. 145). Dorian is not the only character whose past seems to determine his future. Sibyl has nearly the same stormy parentage as Dorian, and she seems doomed to repeat the tragedy of her mother and grandmother.
The absence of free will is especially apparent in Wilde’s manipulation of the plot. A character’s resolve is frequently stymied by uncontrollable circumstances. In the opening chapter, for example, even as Basil--who has thus far managed to shelter Dorian from Lord Henry’s influences--decides that he will not allow the two to meet, his butler enters to announce that "'Mr. Dorian Gray is in the studio'" (p. 14). More importantly, though, Wilde contrives Lord Henry’s arrival at Dorian’s townhouse, instead of Basil’s, after the performance when Dorian is trying to resist temptation and is vowing to return to Sibyl. The news of her suicide unnerves Dorian because he realizes his peril: "'My God! my God! Harry, what shall I do? You don't know the danger I am in, and there is nothing to keep me straight. She would have done that for me'" (p. 99). Knowing that the turning point is at hand for Dorian, Lord Henry allows Dorian’s "unconscious egotism" (p. 100) to go unchecked in order to shape his perception of the event. He finds it easy to convince Dorian that Sibyl had never been other than a succession of romantic heroines for him; consequently, he must think of her death "'simply as a strange lurid fragment from some Jacobean tragedy. . . . The girl never really lived, and so she has never really died'" (p. 103). He thus becomes the spectator of his own life to escape its suffering. Dorian finally realizes that not only has Lord Henry explained him to himself, but has in fact made his decision for him:
He felt that the time had really come for making his choice. Or had his choice already been made? Yes, life had decided that for him-- life, and his own infinite curiosity about life. Eternal youth, infinite passion, pleasures subtle and secret, wild joys and wilder sins-- he was to have all these things. The portrait was to bear the burden of his shame: that was all. (p. 105)
Dorian’s course set, he turns to the portrait--"the most magical of mirrors" (p. 106)--in which he can view the mirror that mirrors his soul.
The "most magical of mirrors" seems obviously to be the key to the failure of the artist, particularly Basil’s. The first clue that Basil has betrayed Wilde’s version of the aesthetic ideal can be found on the opening page of the novel where we read that "the painter looked at the gracious and comely form he had so skilfully mirrored in his art." Though the narrator only casually introduces the notion of the mirrored reflection here, the language used clearly foreshadows what Basil, Dorian, and Sibyl will discover about art and illusion, using precisely the same metaphor that Wilde employs in Intentions to signal the confusion of art and life. Unlike Sibyl Vane or the Lady of Shalott, both of whom had lived in the shadowy world reflected by the imagination, Basil directly mirrors the comely form of Dorian in the life-size portrait. Making his creation a mirror violates a principal credo of Wilde’s aesthetics. The best art is for Wilde not the gross realism mirrored in the fiction of Zola; art should be "a veil, rather than a mirror" (Artist, p. 306). Basil accordingly is troubled with this latest portrait of Dorian, and already he has resolved never to show it publicly.
When Dorian’s extraordinary personality first suggests to Basil a new manner in art and a new style, Basil's work embodies the artistic ideals of his generation. Dorian is to him "'"A dream of form in days of thought"'" (p. 10). His early pictures of Dorian as Paris, Adonis, or Antinoüs--veiled, that is, in ancient myth--"'had all been what art should be, unconscious, ideal, and remote'" (p. 114). But, as Basil later confesses, in the life-size portrait he relinquishes control over form by painting Dorian as he really is, and as he really sees him, "'without mist or veil'" (p. 114). Wilde makes the nature of Basil's failure clear in an essay when he states that "The moment Art surrenders its imaginative medium it surrenders everything" (Artist, p. 319). Like Sibyl Vane, Basil prefers life to art, believing that "'Love is a more wonderful thing than Art'" (p. 84). Ironically, while Basil can see mirrored in the portrait his own love for Dorian, his "'curious artistic idolatry'" (p. 11l), Dorian can only see his monstrous vanity (pp. 24-25). For as Wilde opines in the Preface, "It is the spectator, and not life, that art really mirrors" (p. xxxiv).
The portrait is thus flawed from the beginning. Paradoxically, it represents Basil’s failure to multiply personalities through his art, while at the same time it mirrors the multiple personalities of Dorian. Perhaps we are meant to regard the ethical dimension Basil’s idolatry adds to the portrait as a contributing factor to Dorian's decline since it fosters his vanity. Whatever else we make of the magical portrait, we must acknowledge its appropriateness to the critical theories set forth in the novel. Dorian is attempting to realize the ideal of self-development advocated by the aesthetes of the eighties by giving expression to every cultural and hereditary legacy he can detect within himself. As part of the novel’s Gothic donnée, the portrait becomes the "mirror that mirrors the soul," in which he can observe the spectacle of his life without suffering. As an art work, it reflects the gross decay of his life. Dorian, who sought to elaborate a new scheme of life by "the spiritualizing of the senses" (p.130), sadly discovers some eighteen years later that
The "most magical of mirrors" seems obviously to be the key to the failure of the artist, particularly Basil’s. The first clue that Basil has betrayed Wilde’s version of the aesthetic ideal can be found on the opening page of the novel where we read that "the painter looked at the gracious and comely form he had so skilfully mirrored in his art." Though the narrator only casually introduces the notion of the mirrored reflection here, the language used clearly foreshadows what Basil, Dorian, and Sibyl will discover about art and illusion, using precisely the same metaphor that Wilde employs in Intentions to signal the confusion of art and life. Unlike Sibyl Vane or the Lady of Shalott, both of whom had lived in the shadowy world reflected by the imagination, Basil directly mirrors the comely form of Dorian in the life-size portrait. Making his creation a mirror violates a principal credo of Wilde’s aesthetics. The best art is for Wilde not the gross realism mirrored in the fiction of Zola; art should be "a veil, rather than a mirror" (Artist, p. 306). Basil accordingly is troubled with this latest portrait of Dorian, and already he has resolved never to show it publicly.
When Dorian’s extraordinary personality first suggests to Basil a new manner in art and a new style, Basil's work embodies the artistic ideals of his generation. Dorian is to him "'"A dream of form in days of thought"'" (p. 10). His early pictures of Dorian as Paris, Adonis, or Antinoüs--veiled, that is, in ancient myth--"'had all been what art should be, unconscious, ideal, and remote'" (p. 114). But, as Basil later confesses, in the life-size portrait he relinquishes control over form by painting Dorian as he really is, and as he really sees him, "'without mist or veil'" (p. 114). Wilde makes the nature of Basil's failure clear in an essay when he states that "The moment Art surrenders its imaginative medium it surrenders everything" (Artist, p. 319). Like Sibyl Vane, Basil prefers life to art, believing that "'Love is a more wonderful thing than Art'" (p. 84). Ironically, while Basil can see mirrored in the portrait his own love for Dorian, his "'curious artistic idolatry'" (p. 11l), Dorian can only see his monstrous vanity (pp. 24-25). For as Wilde opines in the Preface, "It is the spectator, and not life, that art really mirrors" (p. xxxiv).
The portrait is thus flawed from the beginning. Paradoxically, it represents Basil’s failure to multiply personalities through his art, while at the same time it mirrors the multiple personalities of Dorian. Perhaps we are meant to regard the ethical dimension Basil’s idolatry adds to the portrait as a contributing factor to Dorian's decline since it fosters his vanity. Whatever else we make of the magical portrait, we must acknowledge its appropriateness to the critical theories set forth in the novel. Dorian is attempting to realize the ideal of self-development advocated by the aesthetes of the eighties by giving expression to every cultural and hereditary legacy he can detect within himself. As part of the novel’s Gothic donnée, the portrait becomes the "mirror that mirrors the soul," in which he can observe the spectacle of his life without suffering. As an art work, it reflects the gross decay of his life. Dorian, who sought to elaborate a new scheme of life by "the spiritualizing of the senses" (p.130), sadly discovers some eighteen years later that
Ugliness was the one reality. The coarse brawl, the loathsome den, the crude violence of disordered life, the very vileness of thief and outcast, were more vivid, in their intense actuality of impression, than all the gracious shapes of Art, the dreamy shadows of Song. (p. 186)
Thus end the high hopes of the Aesthetic Movement as the novel draws to a close.
Dorian fails to achieve these ideals because he neglects the development of his soul. Though he always recalls Lord Henry’s epigram--"'Nothing can cure the soul but the senses, just as nothing can cure the senses but the soul'" (p. 20) --he in fact devotes himself entirely to the senses, hoping to mask the sickness of his soul in the oblivion of opium. He is guilty of what Wilde accuses Bosie Douglas of in De Profundis: "The fact is that you were and are I suppose still, a typical sentimentalist. For a sentimentalist is simply one who desires to have the luxury of an emotion without paying for it" (Letters, p. 501). Dorian’s development, to use Pater’s analysis, is incomplete because he neglects the "moral sense." As Wilde himself recognizes, even an experience like Reading Gaol can be turned to advantage:
Dorian fails to achieve these ideals because he neglects the development of his soul. Though he always recalls Lord Henry’s epigram--"'Nothing can cure the soul but the senses, just as nothing can cure the senses but the soul'" (p. 20) --he in fact devotes himself entirely to the senses, hoping to mask the sickness of his soul in the oblivion of opium. He is guilty of what Wilde accuses Bosie Douglas of in De Profundis: "The fact is that you were and are I suppose still, a typical sentimentalist. For a sentimentalist is simply one who desires to have the luxury of an emotion without paying for it" (Letters, p. 501). Dorian’s development, to use Pater’s analysis, is incomplete because he neglects the "moral sense." As Wilde himself recognizes, even an experience like Reading Gaol can be turned to advantage:
The important thing, the thing that lies before me, the thing that I have to do, or be for the brief remainder of my days one maimed, marred, and incomplete, is to absorb into my nature all that has been done to me, to make it part of me, to accept it without complaint, fear, or reluctance. The supreme vice is shallowness. Whatever is realised is right. (Letters, p. 469)
The real failure of Dorian Gray, as Wilde acknowledges about his own life, is the failure of the will to assert itself in the formation of one's character. Though Lord Henry still urges Dorian to believe at the end of the novel that "'Life is not governed by will or intention'" (pp. 216-17), this claim is as ironic as his envy of the "'exquisite life'" Dorian has led. Evidently Wilde’s notion of heredity and genetic determinism from his essays has been qualified in the novel. Though Wilde, as the creator of his characters, orchestrates the failure of will --for example, when a repentant Dorian is visited by Lord Henry instead of Basil-- his acutely self-conscious characters are painfully aware of their failures: like so many others at the fin de siècle. Dorian knows that his path is leading to perdition, yet he is powerless to resist.
Where Dorian fails as an artist whose life is his great work, he succeeds in some measure as a critic. For Wilde criticism "is in its way more creative than creation, as it has least reference to any standard external to itself" (Artist, p. 365). The critic is ever the observer who reconstructs a work according to his own impressions: "[He] will prefer to look into the silver mirror or through the woven veil, and will turn his eyes away from the chaos and clamour of actual existence, though the mirror be tarnished and the veil be torn. His sole aim is to chronicle his own impressions" (Artist, pp. 365-66). In this Dorian surely succeeds, as does Lord Henry who studies every nuance of Dorian's emerging consciousness quite scientifically. Lord Henry appropriately gives Dorian a silver mirror, adorned with Cupids--perhaps to suggest the mirror of Venus, a symbol of sensual preoccupation in traditional iconography. Dorian uses this gift to compare the changes mirrored in the picture with his features reflected in the glass. Apparently he always keeps the two mirrors together; and in the mind's eye the reader can perceive a montage of reflections within reflections as Dorian studies the chronicle of his life. Dorian's fate, however, undermines his "success" as a critic. Eventually he is called to account for his transgressions. His mentor does survive but only to the extent that any of the sufferers at Lady Narborough’s dinner party--so much afflicted by the new French esprit--can be said to survive. Theirs is a weary generation, one longing for the relief that a new century might bring.
Thus Dorian observes, "in a mirror that mirrors the soul," the fragmentation of his personality, which finally becomes too great a "burden" for him to bear (p. 205). He has worn many masks--"he would often adopt certain modes of thought that he knew to be really alien to his nature, abandon himself to their subtle influences" (p. 132)--and many "curious disguises" (p. 160). He has seen his image "dulled and distorted in the fly-blown mirrors" of the opium den (p. 187). All these extraordinary sensations, though, are but ashes upon his tongue. When he at last tries to adopt a different ideal by sparing Hetty Merton, he discovers that he cannot change. Observing himself in Lord Henry's silver mirror, he flings it to the floor, sadly recognizing that even "His beauty had been to him but a mask" (p. 220). Approaching what he desperately wants to believe is "an unjust mirror, this mirror of his soul," he realizes that he spared Hetty while hypocritically wearing "the mask of goodness" (p. 222). Only by destroying the portrait can he strip away the masks and discover that the monstrosity hanging in the shadows of the old schoolroom is actually what he is. The restoration of the portrait to its original splendor--mimetic though it may be--seems to represent the only triumph of art over life in the novel. But this bit of Wildean legerdemain to achieve an artistic triumph should fool no one. In his typically self-reflexive way, Wilde has already had Lord Henry tell us that "'the only things that one can use in fiction are the things that one has ceased to use in fact'" (p. 78).
The metaphor of the mirror establishes, therefore, a key to the structure of the novel. As Masao Miyoshi writes, "for the writers of the nineties--as for the Romantics--introspection, mirror-gazing, is a sanctioned activity. For the world, wear your mask; for a true glimpse of yourself, consult your mirror. In Dorian Gray the mirror is not only the means whereby the characters--especially Dorian-- discover themselves, but the mirror imagery creates the verbal pattern by which the artists are to be judged. Focusing on the mirror as a structural device also helps us to see that Dorian Gray is not simply the story of one man's attempt at self-discovery. Sibyl, Dorian, Basil, and Lord Henry together seem to represent the failure of an entire generation to achieve its ideals. The theories Wilde proffers in Intentions, as seductive as they may be, finally seem too sublime for his characters, for himself, and for many of his contemporaries. Basil’s fatalism in the opening scene undoubtedly expresses Wilde's own: "'There is a fatality about all physical and intellectual distinction. . . . Your rank and wealth, Harry; my brains, such as they are--my art, whatever it may be worth; Dorian Gray's good looks--we shall all suffer for what the gods have given us, suffer terribly'" (p. 3). The ideal of the Aesthetic Movement remains an impossible dream in the novel. Wilde's self-consciousness told him that it was so; his decadent vision would not allow him to express it otherwise.
Where Dorian fails as an artist whose life is his great work, he succeeds in some measure as a critic. For Wilde criticism "is in its way more creative than creation, as it has least reference to any standard external to itself" (Artist, p. 365). The critic is ever the observer who reconstructs a work according to his own impressions: "[He] will prefer to look into the silver mirror or through the woven veil, and will turn his eyes away from the chaos and clamour of actual existence, though the mirror be tarnished and the veil be torn. His sole aim is to chronicle his own impressions" (Artist, pp. 365-66). In this Dorian surely succeeds, as does Lord Henry who studies every nuance of Dorian's emerging consciousness quite scientifically. Lord Henry appropriately gives Dorian a silver mirror, adorned with Cupids--perhaps to suggest the mirror of Venus, a symbol of sensual preoccupation in traditional iconography. Dorian uses this gift to compare the changes mirrored in the picture with his features reflected in the glass. Apparently he always keeps the two mirrors together; and in the mind's eye the reader can perceive a montage of reflections within reflections as Dorian studies the chronicle of his life. Dorian's fate, however, undermines his "success" as a critic. Eventually he is called to account for his transgressions. His mentor does survive but only to the extent that any of the sufferers at Lady Narborough’s dinner party--so much afflicted by the new French esprit--can be said to survive. Theirs is a weary generation, one longing for the relief that a new century might bring.
Thus Dorian observes, "in a mirror that mirrors the soul," the fragmentation of his personality, which finally becomes too great a "burden" for him to bear (p. 205). He has worn many masks--"he would often adopt certain modes of thought that he knew to be really alien to his nature, abandon himself to their subtle influences" (p. 132)--and many "curious disguises" (p. 160). He has seen his image "dulled and distorted in the fly-blown mirrors" of the opium den (p. 187). All these extraordinary sensations, though, are but ashes upon his tongue. When he at last tries to adopt a different ideal by sparing Hetty Merton, he discovers that he cannot change. Observing himself in Lord Henry's silver mirror, he flings it to the floor, sadly recognizing that even "His beauty had been to him but a mask" (p. 220). Approaching what he desperately wants to believe is "an unjust mirror, this mirror of his soul," he realizes that he spared Hetty while hypocritically wearing "the mask of goodness" (p. 222). Only by destroying the portrait can he strip away the masks and discover that the monstrosity hanging in the shadows of the old schoolroom is actually what he is. The restoration of the portrait to its original splendor--mimetic though it may be--seems to represent the only triumph of art over life in the novel. But this bit of Wildean legerdemain to achieve an artistic triumph should fool no one. In his typically self-reflexive way, Wilde has already had Lord Henry tell us that "'the only things that one can use in fiction are the things that one has ceased to use in fact'" (p. 78).
The metaphor of the mirror establishes, therefore, a key to the structure of the novel. As Masao Miyoshi writes, "for the writers of the nineties--as for the Romantics--introspection, mirror-gazing, is a sanctioned activity. For the world, wear your mask; for a true glimpse of yourself, consult your mirror. In Dorian Gray the mirror is not only the means whereby the characters--especially Dorian-- discover themselves, but the mirror imagery creates the verbal pattern by which the artists are to be judged. Focusing on the mirror as a structural device also helps us to see that Dorian Gray is not simply the story of one man's attempt at self-discovery. Sibyl, Dorian, Basil, and Lord Henry together seem to represent the failure of an entire generation to achieve its ideals. The theories Wilde proffers in Intentions, as seductive as they may be, finally seem too sublime for his characters, for himself, and for many of his contemporaries. Basil’s fatalism in the opening scene undoubtedly expresses Wilde's own: "'There is a fatality about all physical and intellectual distinction. . . . Your rank and wealth, Harry; my brains, such as they are--my art, whatever it may be worth; Dorian Gray's good looks--we shall all suffer for what the gods have given us, suffer terribly'" (p. 3). The ideal of the Aesthetic Movement remains an impossible dream in the novel. Wilde's self-consciousness told him that it was so; his decadent vision would not allow him to express it otherwise.
THE PICTURE OF DORIAN GRAY - NOVEL - CLASSIC
The Picture of Dorian Gray
The Picture of Dorian Gray is the only published novel by Oscar Wilde, appearing as the lead story in Lippincott's Monthly Magazine on 20 June 1890, printed as the July 1890 issue of this magazine. Wikipedia
Oscar Wilde said: “Basil Hallward is what I think I am; Lord Henry what the world thinks of me; Dorian what I would like to be – in other ages, perhaps.” Consider this as you read the book.
One of the several tragedies in The Picture of Dorian Gray, and yes there is more than one tragedy here, is how Dorian uses his influence to drag others down. Readers are often told that Dorian attracts others because of his youthful beauty. And Dorian’s society whispers about the downfall of many who had been close to him; some fall to opium, others despair and suicide. When a person has a considerable asset, like Dorian’s appearance, I think it is important that they are aware of its effects on others. Because when we admire someone we give them power to influence us and have some sway on our views and decisions. We need to be careful how we use our strengths.
Summary in a Sentence
When he sees a remarkable portrait of himself showcasing his youth and beauty, Dorian Gray utters a wish that his portrait would age instead of him; when he later sees this wish granted he indulges in many sins which degrade his soul and the image in the painting, but not his looks.
Themes within the text
A brutal murder occurs. There are provoking discussions of evil and the effects of sin. Throughout the book men flirt with married women and there are references to adultery. A chapter describes Dorian’s lust and hunt for opium. However, the concluding message is that you can’t escape the effects of your actions.
The Language and Style
Wilde displays an exceptional ability to describe places. He established setting beautifully and thoroughly in passages such as this:
The Opening Paragraph:
"The studio was filled with the rich odour of roses, and when the light
summer wind stirred amidst the trees of the garden, there came through
the open door the heavy scent of the lilac, or the more delicate
perfume of the pink-flowering thorn."
Later in the text:
“The room looked as if it had not been lived in for years. A faded Flemish tapestry, a curtained picture, an old Italian cassone, and an almost empty bookcase – that was all that it seemed to contain, besides a chair and a table. As Dorian Gray was lighting a half-burned candle that was standing on the mantelshelf, [Basil] saw that the whole place was covered with dust, and that the carpet was in holes. A mouse ran scuffling behind the wainscoting. There was a damp odor of mildew.”
Vocabulary
You may learn several new words reading this book (which is a requirement for me to dub a book “good”) including 'ennui' which means “listlessness and dissatisfaction arising from boredom” (according to the Concise Oxford English Dictionary). As you read, make a note of new words and look up the meanings if you can't work them out.
You may learn several new words reading this book (which is a requirement for me to dub a book “good”) including 'ennui' which means “listlessness and dissatisfaction arising from boredom” (according to the Concise Oxford English Dictionary). As you read, make a note of new words and look up the meanings if you can't work them out.
Dialogue
Usually in a novel the reader can work out who is speaking by the character's unique voice. One of my problems with Dorian Gray: although what the characters talked about differed, there was little distinction between how they talked. If I was to flip open to a random page in the book and read something in quotation marks I’d have a hard time identifying the speaker just off of the way it was worded. Perhaps this was because Oscar Wilde saw himself as all three main characters.
Philosophy and Exploration of Ideas
Usually in a novel the reader can work out who is speaking by the character's unique voice. One of my problems with Dorian Gray: although what the characters talked about differed, there was little distinction between how they talked. If I was to flip open to a random page in the book and read something in quotation marks I’d have a hard time identifying the speaker just off of the way it was worded. Perhaps this was because Oscar Wilde saw himself as all three main characters.
Philosophy and Exploration of Ideas
Wilde has his characters spending a lot of time talking...about a lot...there was too much philosophy and lengthy exploration of ideas for me. Although I do have to give it to Wilde for merging an interesting plot with so much ideology.
Why it is in the Canon of Western Literature
This is an intellectually engaging book which explore ideas, often new ideas. A peek into a past era and the way people lived and spent their days. It’s always interesting how the lifestyle, values, and taboos of the author’s time period are revealed in a book. For instance, I couldn’t believe how little people like Dorian and Henry did with their time.
What is A Picture of Dorian Gray about?
What is A Picture of Dorian Gray about?
A Picture of Dorian Gray is about many things, including art, adoration, sin, and many more fascinating topics. Oscar Wilde must have been a very thoughtful, observant person because the book is just chuck full of insights and well thought-out ideas. Just two examples:
“Every impulse that we strive to strangle broods in the mind, and poisons us.”“It often happens that the real tragedies of life occur in such an inartistic manner that they hurt us by their crude violence, their absolute incoherence, their absurd want of meaning, their entire lack of style.”
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Friday, September 6, 2013
THE BOOK THIEF - NOVEL - SCHMOOP SUMMARY
How It All Goes Down
The Book Thief is narrated by Death, who tells us the story of Liesel Meminger. It's January 1939, and Liesel, who is about ten-years-old, is traveling by train with her mother and her little brother Werner. Liesel and Werner are being taken to the small town of Molching, just outside of Munich, Germany, to live with foster parents Hans and Rosa Hubermann. Werner dies on the train of mysterious causes having to do with poverty, hunger, cold, and lack of medical treatment. Before Liesel arrives in Molching, she attends her brother's burial in a snowy graveyard. She steals The Grave Digger's Handbook from the cemetery after it falls from a young grave digger's coat. The kicker is, Liesel can't read.
Liesel is reluctant to enter the Hubermann house on Himmel Street, but is coaxed by her foster father, Hans, to whom she takes an immediate liking. She's not sure about Rosa, though. Liesel begins school, but suffers because she doesn't know how to read yet. She also meets Rudy Steiner, who is soon to be her best friend, not to mention her partner in book and food thievery.
One night, Hans finds The Grave Digger's Handbook hidden in Liesel's mattress after her usual nightmare of seeing her brother dying on the train. This is what inspires him to begin teaching her to read. When Liesel learns to write, she begins composing letters to her mother, but these letters go unanswered. Finally, we find out that her mother has disappeared.
Liesel becomes aware of what it really means to be living in Nazi Germany when a book burning is organized to celebrate Adolph Hitler's birthday on April 20, 1940. She finds the mound of literature being burned fascinating yet disturbing. Now that she can read and write, she has come to see great value in books and words. When Liesel hears a Nazi spokesman calling for death to communists as well as Jews, a light bulb goes off. The only thing she knows about her father is that he was accused of being a communist. She realizes that Hitler is likely behind her father's disappearance, her brother's death, and her mother's disappearance.
When Hans confirms her suspicions after the book burning, Hitler becomes Liesel's sworn enemy. This is a dangerous conflict for a young girl in Nazi Germany. Hans warns her against voicing her anti-Hitler opinions in public. This conflict helps drive Liesel to steal her second book, The Shoulder Shrug, from the burning pile of books.
Turns out that Erik Vandenburg, a Jewish man, saved Hans's life during World War I, giving up his own life in the process. After the war, Hans visited Erik's widow and young son. Now, that son is 22 and is hiding from the Nazis. His name is Max, and Hans is his last hope for survival. Upon learning of his plight, Hans readily helps arrange for Max's journey to Himmel Street. When the desperately starving and exhausted young man arrives, Hans and Rosa hide him in their home. At first, Liesel isn't sure what to think of Max, but they soon make fast friends. Meanwhile, Max's arrival and his suffering produce a change in Rosa, for the better. Liesel is amazed to see her courage and her softness.
Hiding a Jewish person in your home during World War II is one of the most brave and frightening things a German person could do. It means a constant state of paranoia for all involved. For Max, it means extreme guilt for putting the lives of those he's come to love in danger. But, above all, it means friendship for the residents of the Hubermann home, and complicated friendship at that.
Liesel has also entered into a complicated almost-friendship with the mayor's wife, Ilsa Hermann. Ilsa saw Liesel steal theThe Shoulder Shrug. She also pays Rosa to do her laundry. When Liesel comes to Ilsa's house on laundry visits, she invites Liesel into the library to read. When Ilsa has to stop using Rosa's services, Liesel begins stealing books from her, though Ilsa doesn't seem to mind.
Everything changes in October of 1942 when "The parade of Jews" (55.4) comes through Molching on the way to the nearby concentration camp Dachau . Hans feels compelled to offer one of the Jewish prisoners a piece of bread and is whipped along with the prisoner by a Nazi guard. Now Hans is desperately afraid the Nazis will search his house and find Max, so he sends Max away that very night. His house is never searched, and Hans berates himself constantly, waiting to be punished for his mistake.
One day, Liesel sees the Gestapo (Nazi secret police) on Himmel Street, and Hans thinks they are coming for him. In fact, they are coming for Rudy, who has recently shown himself to be a great student and athlete. The Gestapo wants to take Rudy to a special training school. His parents protest and essentially make a trade. Rudy stays home, but his father, Alex Steiner, is conscripted into the military and has to leave home. Around this time, Hans is also conscripted, as punishment for giving the Jewish man bread.
With Hans and Max gone, Liesel does her best to go on. She reads to the residents of Himmel Street in the bomb shelter during air raids, thieves with Rudy, and helps Rosa. One night, Rosa shows her the book Max left for her, a book written on painted-over pages of Adolph Hitler's book Mein Kampf. It's called The Word Shaker and includes a story by the same name.
In February 1943, just after Liesel's fourteenth birthday, Liesel and Rosa get word that Hans is coming home. He broke his leg in a bus accident, and his sergeant is transferring him back to Munich.
In August of 1943, Liesel sees Max again. He's marching through Molching to Dachau. She walks with him in the procession. Liesel learns that he was captured some six months earlier, about five months after he left the house on Himmel Street. The Nazi guards don't take well to Liesel's courageous display, and Liesel and Max are both whipped. Rudy stops Liesel from following Max any further and possibly saves her life.
Soon after, Liesel decides to give up books and Ilsa Herman's library. Ilsa presents her with a blank book, and Liesel begins writing the story of her life, called The Book Thief. She writes in the basement, and she's doing just this when Himmel Street is bombed. Everybody she loves dies while they sleep. In despair over their deaths, Liesel drops her book, but it's picked up by Death. Since Liesel has nobody left, the police hold her, not sure what to do with her. Soon Ilsa Hermann arrives and takes her in for a time. Alex Steiner comes home soon after, and Liesel spends time with him.
As the novel comes to a close, we first learn that Liesel has died after living a long and happy life with a husband, kids, and grandkids. Then we learn Max survived the concentration camp, and he and Liesel reunited at the end of World War II. But, we don't learn what happens to Max after that. The novel ends with Death giving Liesel back her book, The Book Thief, as he's taking her soul away from her body.
Liesel is reluctant to enter the Hubermann house on Himmel Street, but is coaxed by her foster father, Hans, to whom she takes an immediate liking. She's not sure about Rosa, though. Liesel begins school, but suffers because she doesn't know how to read yet. She also meets Rudy Steiner, who is soon to be her best friend, not to mention her partner in book and food thievery.
One night, Hans finds The Grave Digger's Handbook hidden in Liesel's mattress after her usual nightmare of seeing her brother dying on the train. This is what inspires him to begin teaching her to read. When Liesel learns to write, she begins composing letters to her mother, but these letters go unanswered. Finally, we find out that her mother has disappeared.
Liesel becomes aware of what it really means to be living in Nazi Germany when a book burning is organized to celebrate Adolph Hitler's birthday on April 20, 1940. She finds the mound of literature being burned fascinating yet disturbing. Now that she can read and write, she has come to see great value in books and words. When Liesel hears a Nazi spokesman calling for death to communists as well as Jews, a light bulb goes off. The only thing she knows about her father is that he was accused of being a communist. She realizes that Hitler is likely behind her father's disappearance, her brother's death, and her mother's disappearance.
When Hans confirms her suspicions after the book burning, Hitler becomes Liesel's sworn enemy. This is a dangerous conflict for a young girl in Nazi Germany. Hans warns her against voicing her anti-Hitler opinions in public. This conflict helps drive Liesel to steal her second book, The Shoulder Shrug, from the burning pile of books.
Turns out that Erik Vandenburg, a Jewish man, saved Hans's life during World War I, giving up his own life in the process. After the war, Hans visited Erik's widow and young son. Now, that son is 22 and is hiding from the Nazis. His name is Max, and Hans is his last hope for survival. Upon learning of his plight, Hans readily helps arrange for Max's journey to Himmel Street. When the desperately starving and exhausted young man arrives, Hans and Rosa hide him in their home. At first, Liesel isn't sure what to think of Max, but they soon make fast friends. Meanwhile, Max's arrival and his suffering produce a change in Rosa, for the better. Liesel is amazed to see her courage and her softness.
Hiding a Jewish person in your home during World War II is one of the most brave and frightening things a German person could do. It means a constant state of paranoia for all involved. For Max, it means extreme guilt for putting the lives of those he's come to love in danger. But, above all, it means friendship for the residents of the Hubermann home, and complicated friendship at that.
Liesel has also entered into a complicated almost-friendship with the mayor's wife, Ilsa Hermann. Ilsa saw Liesel steal theThe Shoulder Shrug. She also pays Rosa to do her laundry. When Liesel comes to Ilsa's house on laundry visits, she invites Liesel into the library to read. When Ilsa has to stop using Rosa's services, Liesel begins stealing books from her, though Ilsa doesn't seem to mind.
Everything changes in October of 1942 when "The parade of Jews" (55.4) comes through Molching on the way to the nearby concentration camp Dachau . Hans feels compelled to offer one of the Jewish prisoners a piece of bread and is whipped along with the prisoner by a Nazi guard. Now Hans is desperately afraid the Nazis will search his house and find Max, so he sends Max away that very night. His house is never searched, and Hans berates himself constantly, waiting to be punished for his mistake.
One day, Liesel sees the Gestapo (Nazi secret police) on Himmel Street, and Hans thinks they are coming for him. In fact, they are coming for Rudy, who has recently shown himself to be a great student and athlete. The Gestapo wants to take Rudy to a special training school. His parents protest and essentially make a trade. Rudy stays home, but his father, Alex Steiner, is conscripted into the military and has to leave home. Around this time, Hans is also conscripted, as punishment for giving the Jewish man bread.
With Hans and Max gone, Liesel does her best to go on. She reads to the residents of Himmel Street in the bomb shelter during air raids, thieves with Rudy, and helps Rosa. One night, Rosa shows her the book Max left for her, a book written on painted-over pages of Adolph Hitler's book Mein Kampf. It's called The Word Shaker and includes a story by the same name.
In February 1943, just after Liesel's fourteenth birthday, Liesel and Rosa get word that Hans is coming home. He broke his leg in a bus accident, and his sergeant is transferring him back to Munich.
In August of 1943, Liesel sees Max again. He's marching through Molching to Dachau. She walks with him in the procession. Liesel learns that he was captured some six months earlier, about five months after he left the house on Himmel Street. The Nazi guards don't take well to Liesel's courageous display, and Liesel and Max are both whipped. Rudy stops Liesel from following Max any further and possibly saves her life.
Soon after, Liesel decides to give up books and Ilsa Herman's library. Ilsa presents her with a blank book, and Liesel begins writing the story of her life, called The Book Thief. She writes in the basement, and she's doing just this when Himmel Street is bombed. Everybody she loves dies while they sleep. In despair over their deaths, Liesel drops her book, but it's picked up by Death. Since Liesel has nobody left, the police hold her, not sure what to do with her. Soon Ilsa Hermann arrives and takes her in for a time. Alex Steiner comes home soon after, and Liesel spends time with him.
As the novel comes to a close, we first learn that Liesel has died after living a long and happy life with a husband, kids, and grandkids. Then we learn Max survived the concentration camp, and he and Liesel reunited at the end of World War II. But, we don't learn what happens to Max after that. The novel ends with Death giving Liesel back her book, The Book Thief, as he's taking her soul away from her body.
THE BOOK THIEF - NOVEL - SCHMOOP INTRODUCTION
IN A NUTSHELL...
Based on its title, you might think that The Book Thief is a spy thriller or a Holmes-style detective story. But really, this is the emotional story of a young girl living in Nazi Germany during the Holocaust. Yep, a ten-year-old girl is the title's thief.
The Book Thief was first published in Australia in 2005 and in the US in 2006. It's Australian author Markus Zusak's fifth novel, and it emerged on the scene when Zusak was only thirty years old. Winning a slew of awards, mostly in the Young Adult category, and selling at least a million copies,The Book Thief is monumentally increasing this young author's fame.
Liesel Meminger, a young German girl growing up in Nazi Germany, is the star of the show. She's also the chief book thief in the novel, which is narrated by Death. When Liesel's foster parents decide to give refuge to a young Jewish man hiding from the Nazi regime, the characters grow and change in horrible and beautiful ways.
Zusak took over three years to complete the piece and even went to Munich, Germany to research some of the finer points. He tackles all sorts of dicey issues concerning one of the most difficult topics ever – the Holocaust. This is the name for the large scale persecution and murder of some six million Jews along with other people considered "undesirable" by the Nazis.
Zusak's parents grew up in Germany during World War II and shared their stories of these times with Zusak. According to a review in the Guardian:
Zusak […] has said that writing the book was inspired by two real-life events related to him by his German parents: the bombing of Munich, and a teenage boy offering bread to an emaciated Jew being marched through the streets, ending with both boy and Jewish prisoner being whipped by a soldier. (source)
You'll see definite echoes of the whipping incident in several crucial points in the novel, and you can read more details about the story Zusak heard here. In interviews, Zusak discusses an additional inspiration for the novel – tales of a real book thief in Zusak's hometown of Sydney, Australia (source).
At times hilarious (believe it or not), at times heartbreaking, The Book Thief is rich and creative. It's a heartfelt reminder of the power of words – they can destroy or heal, depending on how we use them.
Based on its title, you might think that The Book Thief is a spy thriller or a Holmes-style detective story. But really, this is the emotional story of a young girl living in Nazi Germany during the Holocaust. Yep, a ten-year-old girl is the title's thief.
The Book Thief was first published in Australia in 2005 and in the US in 2006. It's Australian author Markus Zusak's fifth novel, and it emerged on the scene when Zusak was only thirty years old. Winning a slew of awards, mostly in the Young Adult category, and selling at least a million copies,The Book Thief is monumentally increasing this young author's fame.
Liesel Meminger, a young German girl growing up in Nazi Germany, is the star of the show. She's also the chief book thief in the novel, which is narrated by Death. When Liesel's foster parents decide to give refuge to a young Jewish man hiding from the Nazi regime, the characters grow and change in horrible and beautiful ways.
Zusak took over three years to complete the piece and even went to Munich, Germany to research some of the finer points. He tackles all sorts of dicey issues concerning one of the most difficult topics ever – the Holocaust. This is the name for the large scale persecution and murder of some six million Jews along with other people considered "undesirable" by the Nazis.
Zusak's parents grew up in Germany during World War II and shared their stories of these times with Zusak. According to a review in the Guardian:
Zusak […] has said that writing the book was inspired by two real-life events related to him by his German parents: the bombing of Munich, and a teenage boy offering bread to an emaciated Jew being marched through the streets, ending with both boy and Jewish prisoner being whipped by a soldier. (source)
You'll see definite echoes of the whipping incident in several crucial points in the novel, and you can read more details about the story Zusak heard here. In interviews, Zusak discusses an additional inspiration for the novel – tales of a real book thief in Zusak's hometown of Sydney, Australia (source).
At times hilarious (believe it or not), at times heartbreaking, The Book Thief is rich and creative. It's a heartfelt reminder of the power of words – they can destroy or heal, depending on how we use them.
THE BOOK THIEF - NOVEL - READING COMPREHENSION
EXTENDED VOCABULARY AND READING COMPREHENSION QUESTIONS FOR THE WHOLE NOVEL"
http://mrsprimm.weebly.com/uploads/3/7/5/8/3758401/the_book_thief_crawford.pdf
PRE-READING GUIDE, ACTIVITIES
http://2007.perthfestival.com.au/files/events/OB-TeachersNotes.pdf
Thursday, September 5, 2013
THE PICTURE OF DORIAN GRAY - NOVEL - CLASSICS - PLOT SUMMARY - NOVEL - YEAR 12
How It All Goes Down
The Picture of Dorian Gray is the story of one beautiful, innocent young man's seduction, moral corruption, and eventual downfall. We meet our three central characters at the beginning of the book, when painter Basil Hallward and his close friend, Lord Henry Wotton, are discussing the subject of Basil's newest painting, a gorgeous young thing named Dorian Gray. Basil and Henry discuss just how perfectly perfect Dorian is – he's totally innocent and completely good, as well as being the most beautiful guy ever to walk the earth. Lord Henry wants to meet this mysterious boy, but Basil doesn't want him to; for some reason, he's afraid of what will happen to Dorian if Lord Henry digs his claws into him.
However, Lord Henry gets his wish – Dorian shows up that very afternoon, and, over the course of the day, Henry manages to totally change Dorian's perspective on the world. From that point on, Dorian's previously innocent point of view is dramatically different – he begins to see life as Lord Henry does, as a succession of pleasures in which questions of good and evil are irrelevant.
Basil finishes his portrait of Dorian, and gives it to the young man, who keeps it in his home, where he can admire his own beauty. Lord Henry continues to exert his influence over Dorian, to Basil's dismay. Dorian grows more and more distant from Basil, his former best friend, and develops his own interests.
One of these interests is Sybil Vane, a young, exceptionally beautiful, exceptionally talented – and exceptionally poor – actress. Though she's stuck performing in a terrible, third-rate theatre, she's a truly remarkable artist, and her talent and beauty win over Dorian. He falls dramatically in love with her, and she with him. For a moment, it seems like everything will turn out wonderfully. However, this is just the beginning of Dorian's story. Once he and Sybil are engaged, her talent suddenly disappears – she's so overcome with her passionate love for Dorian that none of her roles on stage seem important to her anymore. This destroys Dorian's love for her, and he brutally dumps her. Back home, he notices a something different in his portrait – it looks somehow crueler. In the meanwhile, the distraught Sybil commits suicide, just as Dorian decides to return to her and take back his terrible words.
Sybil's suicide changes everything. At first, Dorian feels horrible – but he rather quickly changes his tune. On Lord Henry's suggestion, Dorian reads a mysterious "yellow book," a decadent French novel that makes him reevaluate his whole belief system. The protagonist of the book lives his life in pursuit of sensual pleasures, which intrigues Dorian. From this moment on, Dorian is a changed man.
Dorian starts to live as hedonistically as his wicked mentor, Lord Henry, does. The only thing that documents this turn for the worst is the portrait, which alarmingly begins to exhibit the inward corruption of Dorian's soul; the beautiful image changes, revealing new scars and physical flaws with each of Dorian's dastardly actions. As years pass, the man in the picture grows more and more hideous, as Dorian himself stays unnaturally young and beautiful. Rumors start to spread about the various people whose lives Dorian has ruined, and his formerly good reputation is destroyed.
On Dorian's 38th birthday, he encounters Basil, who desperately asks his former friend if all the horrifying rumors about him are true. Dorian finally snaps and shows Basil the portrait, in which the horrible truth about his wicked nature is revealed. Basil recoils, and begs Dorian to pray for forgiveness. In response, Dorian murders Basil, stabbing him brutally. He blackmails another of his former friends into disposing of the body.
Dorian retreats to an opium den after dealing with all of the evidence, where he encounters an enemy he didn't know he had – Sybil Vane's brother, James. Through a rather complicated turn of events, James (who's on a mission to punish Dorian for his mistreatment of Sybil) ends up dead. Dorian isn't directly responsible, but it's yet another death to add to Dorian's tally of life-wrecking disasters.
Dorian is relieved that his enemy is out of the way, but this event sparks a kind of mid-life crisis: he begins to wonder if his vile but enjoyable lifestyle is worth it. He actually does a good(ish) deed, by deciding not to corrupt a young girl he's got the hots for, which makes him question his past actions even more. Seeking some kind of reassurance, Dorian talks to Lord Henry, who's not any help at all, unsurprisingly. Dorian even practically admits to murdering Basil, but Henry laughs it off and doesn't believe him.
That night, Dorian returns home in a pensive mood. Catching a glimpse of himself in the mirror, he hates his own beauty and breaks the mirror. Again, he vows to be good, but we find out that his various crimes don't really haunt him, because he doesn't consider them his fault. Instead, he selfishly wants to be good so that the painting will become beautiful again. Heartened by this thought, he goes up to see if his recent good deed has improved the painting – in fact, it only looks worse. Frustrated, Dorian decides to destroy the picture, the visible evidence of his dreadful crimes, and the closest thing to a conscience he has. Dorian slashes at the painting with the same knife that killed Basil, trying to destroy the work as he did the artist.
A tremendous crash and a terrible cry alert the servants that something very, very bad has happened – it's even audible outside the house. Finally, they go upstairs to check it out, and are horrified by what they find: a portrait of their master, as beautiful as ever, hangs on the wall, and a mysterious, grotesquely hideous dead man is lying on the floor with a knife in his heart. Upon close examination, the rings on the dead man's hand identify him as Dorian Gray.
However, Lord Henry gets his wish – Dorian shows up that very afternoon, and, over the course of the day, Henry manages to totally change Dorian's perspective on the world. From that point on, Dorian's previously innocent point of view is dramatically different – he begins to see life as Lord Henry does, as a succession of pleasures in which questions of good and evil are irrelevant.
Basil finishes his portrait of Dorian, and gives it to the young man, who keeps it in his home, where he can admire his own beauty. Lord Henry continues to exert his influence over Dorian, to Basil's dismay. Dorian grows more and more distant from Basil, his former best friend, and develops his own interests.
One of these interests is Sybil Vane, a young, exceptionally beautiful, exceptionally talented – and exceptionally poor – actress. Though she's stuck performing in a terrible, third-rate theatre, she's a truly remarkable artist, and her talent and beauty win over Dorian. He falls dramatically in love with her, and she with him. For a moment, it seems like everything will turn out wonderfully. However, this is just the beginning of Dorian's story. Once he and Sybil are engaged, her talent suddenly disappears – she's so overcome with her passionate love for Dorian that none of her roles on stage seem important to her anymore. This destroys Dorian's love for her, and he brutally dumps her. Back home, he notices a something different in his portrait – it looks somehow crueler. In the meanwhile, the distraught Sybil commits suicide, just as Dorian decides to return to her and take back his terrible words.
Sybil's suicide changes everything. At first, Dorian feels horrible – but he rather quickly changes his tune. On Lord Henry's suggestion, Dorian reads a mysterious "yellow book," a decadent French novel that makes him reevaluate his whole belief system. The protagonist of the book lives his life in pursuit of sensual pleasures, which intrigues Dorian. From this moment on, Dorian is a changed man.
Dorian starts to live as hedonistically as his wicked mentor, Lord Henry, does. The only thing that documents this turn for the worst is the portrait, which alarmingly begins to exhibit the inward corruption of Dorian's soul; the beautiful image changes, revealing new scars and physical flaws with each of Dorian's dastardly actions. As years pass, the man in the picture grows more and more hideous, as Dorian himself stays unnaturally young and beautiful. Rumors start to spread about the various people whose lives Dorian has ruined, and his formerly good reputation is destroyed.
On Dorian's 38th birthday, he encounters Basil, who desperately asks his former friend if all the horrifying rumors about him are true. Dorian finally snaps and shows Basil the portrait, in which the horrible truth about his wicked nature is revealed. Basil recoils, and begs Dorian to pray for forgiveness. In response, Dorian murders Basil, stabbing him brutally. He blackmails another of his former friends into disposing of the body.
Dorian retreats to an opium den after dealing with all of the evidence, where he encounters an enemy he didn't know he had – Sybil Vane's brother, James. Through a rather complicated turn of events, James (who's on a mission to punish Dorian for his mistreatment of Sybil) ends up dead. Dorian isn't directly responsible, but it's yet another death to add to Dorian's tally of life-wrecking disasters.
Dorian is relieved that his enemy is out of the way, but this event sparks a kind of mid-life crisis: he begins to wonder if his vile but enjoyable lifestyle is worth it. He actually does a good(ish) deed, by deciding not to corrupt a young girl he's got the hots for, which makes him question his past actions even more. Seeking some kind of reassurance, Dorian talks to Lord Henry, who's not any help at all, unsurprisingly. Dorian even practically admits to murdering Basil, but Henry laughs it off and doesn't believe him.
That night, Dorian returns home in a pensive mood. Catching a glimpse of himself in the mirror, he hates his own beauty and breaks the mirror. Again, he vows to be good, but we find out that his various crimes don't really haunt him, because he doesn't consider them his fault. Instead, he selfishly wants to be good so that the painting will become beautiful again. Heartened by this thought, he goes up to see if his recent good deed has improved the painting – in fact, it only looks worse. Frustrated, Dorian decides to destroy the picture, the visible evidence of his dreadful crimes, and the closest thing to a conscience he has. Dorian slashes at the painting with the same knife that killed Basil, trying to destroy the work as he did the artist.
A tremendous crash and a terrible cry alert the servants that something very, very bad has happened – it's even audible outside the house. Finally, they go upstairs to check it out, and are horrified by what they find: a portrait of their master, as beautiful as ever, hangs on the wall, and a mysterious, grotesquely hideous dead man is lying on the floor with a knife in his heart. Upon close examination, the rings on the dead man's hand identify him as Dorian Gray.
MONOLOGUE - WHAT IS IT? HOW TO WRITE A MONOLOGUE.
THE CHARACTER SPEAKS
A monologue is like a play, except there is only one character doing the talking and acting. Sometimes, this main character talks directly to the audience; at other times, the character is really talking to themselves -- and the audience just happens to overhear.
A monologue focuses on a character's feelings, thoughts and attitudes about events.
The monologue gives a character the opportunity to tell a story, to explain or describe events from their personal point of view. Like all stories, a monologue must have:
A monologue is like a play, except there is only one character doing the talking and acting. Sometimes, this main character talks directly to the audience; at other times, the character is really talking to themselves -- and the audience just happens to overhear.
A monologue focuses on a character's feelings, thoughts and attitudes about events.
The monologue gives a character the opportunity to tell a story, to explain or describe events from their personal point of view. Like all stories, a monologue must have:
- an interesting INTRODUCTION that includes a brief 'orientation' statement that introduces the characters involved, and the time and place in which the story is set (sets the scene). The introduction should hint at the problems or dilemmas to come.
- a build-up of tension in the BODY, as the character explains and explores the problems and how these were overcome.
- a CONCLUSION that explores how the character intends to solve the dilemma, and/or what action will occur next.
WRITING A MONOLOGUE
Don't use direct speech. You simply write the character's name and then follow that with what the character says. Any stage directions are given in brackets and italicised.
PERFORMING A MONOLOGUE
When performing a monologue on stage or before a class, it's important to remember that you're on your own -- you are completely responsible for maintaining your audience's interest. Some things to think about:
- create an effective opening
- use gestures and body language to communicate the emotion behind the words
- vary your volume and tone of voice
- move around in the performance space (unless your character is bedridden or for some reason sitting still)
- ensure your voice can be heard at all times -- no good whispering if no one can hear you
- use simple props - a lit candle, a hat, a tie, something to indicate a certain kind of character
EXAMPLES OF MONOLOGUES FOR TEENS
What is the difference between a monologue and a soliloquy?
In origin, the words are doublets: Greek monologue and Latin soliloquy both mean 'single speech'. But they are now distinguished in performances with monologueas a speech made by one person in the company of others while a soliloquy is spoken by one person who is alone. A monologue is a long speech delivered by one person who forgets or neglects the others who are there, with an example being "The Vagina Monologues." Hamlet's "To be or not to be" is a great example of a soliloquy. We also think of monologue in the context of late-night talk shows or comedy clubs where the host or performer does a stand-up comedy routine.
Tuesday, September 3, 2013
HOW TO WRITE A NEWS ARTICLE - INVERTED PYRAMID STRUCTURE
Writing a news article is different from writing other articles or informational pieces, because news articles present information in a specific way. It's important to be able to convey all the important information in a limited word count. You need to convey information clearly and concisely.
emac2321.pbworks.com
Basically, a news article follows the Inverted Pyramid structure, answering the WHO, WHAT, WHEN, WHERE, HOW and WHY questions early. The least important information goes last (as few people read the conclusion).
STEP 1 Compile all your facts
Basically, a news article follows the Inverted Pyramid structure, answering the WHO, WHAT, WHEN, WHERE, HOW and WHY questions early. The least important information goes last (as few people read the conclusion).
STEP 1 Compile all your facts
- Before you write a news article, make a list or outline of all the pertinent facts and information that need to be included in the article. This fact list will help prevent you from leaving out any relevant information about the topic or story and will also help you write a clean, succinct article.
STEP 2 Start with the lead
- News articles begin with a leading sentence that is meant to grab a reader's attention and interest them. This is one of the most important parts of the piece, so start with the leading statement when writing a news article. Your lead should be one sentence and should simply, but completely, state the topic of the article.
STEP 3 Give all the important details
- The next important step to writing news articles is including all the relevant facts and details that relate to your lead statement. Include the basics of what happened, where and when it took place, who is involved and why it's newsworthy. These details are important, because they are the focal point of the article that fully informs the reader.
STEP 4 Follow up main facts with additional information
- After you've listed all the primary facts in your news article, include any additional information that might help the reader learn more, such as contact information, additional facts about the topic or people involved, or quotes from interviewees. This additional information helps round out the article.
STEP 5 Check facts before concluding
- Be sure to double check all the facts in your news article before you submit it, including names, dates, and contact information or addresses. Writing accurately is one of the best ways to establish yourself as a competent news article writer.
STEP 6 Remain unbiased (unless your Task directs you differently)
- A news article is meant to convey direct facts, not the opinions of its writer. Keep your writing unbiased and objective. Avoid any language that is overly positive or negative or statements that could be construed as support or criticism.
STEP 7 Conclude your article
- Make sure your news article is complete and finished by giving it a good concluding sentence. This is often a restatement of the leading statement or a statement indicating potential future developments relating to the article topic.
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