For this week’s post I would like to reflect on the similarities between Shiloh by Bobby Ann Mason and Teenage Wasteland, which we read two weeks ago. For another post, I had reflected on the clear and believable reality that Teenage Wasteland depicted. I feel the same way when I read Shiloh. For both stories, what really pulled me in was the way in which I could relate to the characters depicted in each one. In Teenage Wasteland I felt a deep compassion and connection for and to Daisy, because, the more that I pondered over the topic, (which I did quite a lot) the more I felt that I, in the same kind of situation, would be feeling exactly the same as Daisy is. I knew that I would have reacted the same way that she did and would have probably acted in the same way to attempt to fix the problem with Donny, only to wind up with him running away to never be seen again. It was almost frightening to me how much I could relate to her. In fact, it made me feel as if the story were a prediction and a warning to me about what would happen if I should ever have a child. I have never wanted children, as I do not understand or relate to them very well at all, and this story only made me that much more certain that I am correct in my decision to avoid having them. Teenage Wasteland, though fictional, is a perfectly feasible story. Everything that happened to Daisy and Donny could easily happen to anyone in reality as well. I felt a similar kind of eerie connection when I read Shiloh. Though the subject matter is clearly very different from that of Teenage Wasteland, I could see myself in Shiloh almost more so than I could in Teenage Wasteland. In Shiloh, I felt myself connected to Leroy Moffitt, the protagonist and the main character of the story. My connection to him, however, was deeper than mine to Daisy as, though I could see myself becoming Daisy years down the road, the story of Leroy Moffitt brought back memories of my own past that I had tried long to forget. The shocking paradox of Leroy’s being home and attempting to become closer with his wife, whom he appears quite fond of, by vowing to build her a house, only to have her inexplicably walk out on him, brings my mind to a breakup of my own about four years ago. The ending scene of Shiloh is nearly a photograph of my own breakup. We had gone to a local park on a date in the late afternoon, and the person I was dating, declared that she wanted to split. There had been little indication beforehand, and we had been nearly best friend for about six years prior. I sat on the ground, a carbon-copy of Leroy silently for a while, feeling completely blank, before walking back home. I still have yet to figure out what exactly happened, and I still feel the haze over the whole situation that also marks Leroy’s perception of his relationship with Norman Jean.

More Real than Real Life

For my blog post this week I have decided to reflect on a particularly striking aspect of one of the short stories that we read this week. The story that had the most lasting effect on me, by far, was “Teenage Wasteland,” by Anne Tyler. The element of this story that stuck with me was the amazing reality and believability of the story. While some authors and writers feel the need to give their readers a kind of all-knowing omniscience, in this story, the reader is only allowed to know as much as the characters themselves do. In this way, Tyler depicts for the reader a situation that he or she could easily have experienced in his or her daily life. In reading the story, I was immediately struck particularly by Daisy’s situation with her son Donny. Though I am not especially fond of children and do not intend on ever having any, I could clearly see myself as feeling the same kind of confusion and bewilderment as to how to properly deal with Donny’s problems as Daisy feels. In real life, such situations where no clear path to resolution is visible are quite commonplace. Many children who run away are never found or heard from again, just as occurs with Donny in the story. When the story turned toward the relationships regarding Cal, I could clearly see in my mind the existence of exactly such a person as Cal. His character is so real that one can envision him perfectly. Another method by which Tyler makes her story real is her precise and vivid imagery. In another parallel to reality, when she introduces Donny as a character, he is first described by what is, according to Daisy, his most notable and distinguishing feature, his hair. With human beings being such visually oriented creatures, this description-before-introduction style is much the same as the way one actually comes to know someone. One first sees, then speaks, and only after this is a name supplied for the person. Tyler also does this, introducing Donny by name only after he has been described. Ultimately, the very plot of the tale is realistic. There are certainly millions of cases, nearly exactly like Donny’s, of schoolchildren the world over who are discontented with their scholastic experiences. I am certain that many mothers can comprehend Daisy, alongside many teenagers who might relate to her feelings of insecurity and inadequacy just as much as they would to Donny’s angst and hatred of school. These are all elements that Tyler has used in order to bring her story to life in a way that many writers are not able to do. The crystal-clear realism of the story makes one wonder whether the story may be told from a personal experience on Tyler’s part, as one would need an amazing level of personal understanding in order to depict the events of “Teenage Wasteland” so accurately.

History Alive?

Zach McVay
A.P. English
Mr. Coon
7 September 2009
Word Count: 769
History Alive?
An appreciation and respect for one’s history and heritage is a very valuable quality. Without such an appreciation, objects, events and people worthy of remembrance might easily be forgotten, and thereby denied to future generations. This respect for one’s heritage, at least in the modern world, often appears in the form of monuments and museums filled with mementos from important individuals and events of the past. Ask just about anyone, and he or she will agree that such displaying of artifacts is the best way of preserving history and heritage. However, a conflict of understanding ensues when those of the modern era, who wish to preserve what they believe to be “the past,” come into contact with those who are still living the lives and practices that the former wish to preserve. Exactly this kind of conflict develops in Walker’s “Everyday Use.” Dee, or Wangero Leewanika Kamanjo, is the historian/museum curator who wants to memorialize her heritage, while her mother and younger sister Maggie, both of them still living the very lifestyle that Dee (Wangero) wants to put on display, find her semi-archaeological expedition through their house to be quite bizarre. They are, in fact, representatives of the past feeling threatened by the forces of change.
The first instance of conflict emerging between Dee (Wangero) and her mother can be seen in the conversation between the two when Dee comes to her mother’s house for a visit and introduces herself under the name Wangero Leewanika Kamanjo. Her mother, confused at the new and unusual name, questions her as to what happened to her old name. The new Wangero responds that Dee “is dead. I couldn’t bear it any longer, being named after the people who oppress me” (446). This exchange is particularly significant in that, in addition to demonstrating the conflict between Wangero and her mother, it also reflects a historical shift in the African American community from a passive acceptance of their oppression to the cultural pride and nationalism that were present in stages of the African American civil rights movement. In this scene, Dee/Wangero, with her loud, colorful clothing, distinct style, and self-adopted African name, represents the members of the Civil Rights movement, while her mother represents the quiet, mind-one’s-own-business, passivity of the Reconstruction generation.
After her mother’s confusion regarding her new name, Dee/Wangero continues into the house and requests the dasher and handle from an old butter churn which we find out that an Uncle Buddy whittled out of a tree that once stood on their property. Once she has claimed the churn, Dee/Wangero, notably without asking permission from her mother at all, goes into the bedroom and digs through a trunk to pull out two old quilts. Acting as the narrator, Dee/Wangero’s mother describes the rich history of these quilts, one of them having a patch “from Great Grandpa Ezra’s Civil War uniform” (448). It is when she asks to take these as well that the conflict between them becomes evident. To Dee/Wangero, the quilts are symbols from a bygone era that need to be preserved, displayed and otherwise treated as priceless artifacts, but to her mother they are but simple bed quilts that are meant for Everyday Use. Dee/Wangero’s mother knows that they are special quilts, but would rather give them to Maggie years down the road to use for their actual purpose, than give them to Dee/Wangero who will “hang them up.” Her mother cannot understand why Dee/Wangero should be so attached to having those particular quilts, because, to her, they are just quilts, and should be used as such. She does not see Dee/Wangero’s desire to preserve relics of this heritage of hers while it is still very much alive, with her and Maggie living their heritage every day.
This conflict is a unique one that only occurs in the kind of situation that is present in “Everyday Use.” It is growing ever more rare as the heritage we wish to preserve gradually does disappear from the living world. This conflict only appears when those being “preserved” are still living and do not see themselves as representatives of a dying or endangered heritage or way of life, but only as people going about their business. In “Everyday Use,” Dee/Wangero’s mother sees herself and Maggie as being treated like a museum exhibit, or animals in a zoo, all on display to the outside world. She is confused in the same way that the wild animal in the zoo is confused. The zoologist confuses the wild animal; Dee/Wangero confuses her mother.