William Shakespeare - Much Ado About Nothing - Literature review Example

Detailed Commentaries Detailed Commentaries William Shakespeare: Much Ado About Nothing A defining characteristicof many of Shakespeares comedies, is that, at the end of the plays, fellowships are created between newly married couples, or soon to be married couples, and their communities. Although they achieve happiness at the close of the plays, it is never easily obtained, nor is it ever accomplished by all of the characters. In fact, Shakespeares use of disguises ironically reveals that a characters happiness depends on the individuals ability to develop into his or her true identity, which, unlike a false identity, is made up of the characteristics of the individual when he or she is allowed to develop without societal restrictions. Also, the true identities of many of the characters are often discovered through the relationships they have with virtuous characters because their righteous friends help them overcome their shortcomings and work toward achieving their true identities. This is also true in Much Ado About Nothing, particularly for the immature Beatrice and Benedick, two of Shakespeares wittiest and most likeable characters. While in the company of their friends, Beatrice and Benedick usually have a clever joke to tell, but when their friends are in need, they offer compassionate and loyal support. However, because they are proud and used to being in control, both Beatirce and Benedick pretend that they do not want a loving relationship with a member of the opposite sex and especially not with each other. Leonato, Beatrices uncle and the governor of Messina, makes clear that the two seem incompatible: "There/ is a kind of merry war betwixt Signior Benedick/ and her; they never meet but theres a skirmish of wit/ between them" (I.i.61-64). So, Beatrice and Benedick hide their common but true love by denying that it even exists; as a result, their friends interference will be vital to the couples discovery of the hidden truth. Beatrice does not need a disguise to win the freedom to be assertive. Rather, she is free to express herself and is not used to submitting to the authority of others. In fact, at the start of Much Ado About Nothing, Beatrice explains to Leonato and Hero, her cousin, that Hero will be the only woman submitting to the will of a man: It is my cousins duty to make/ cursy and say, "Father, as it please you." But yet for all that, cousin, let him be a handsome fellow,/ or else make another cursy and say, "Father, as it please me."...Not till God make men of some other/ mettle than earth. Would it not grieve a woman/ to be overmasterd with a piece of valiant dust? To/ make an account of her life to a clod of wayward marl? No, uncle, Ill none. (II.i.52-63) Not only does Beatrice make clear that she does not plan to relinquish control to a man, she also reveals that she is suffering from the misconception that blinded her. When Beatrice tells Hero that she should marry only a handsome fellow, Beatrice exposes the fact that she only superficially assesses men by their outward appearance, and she likens a mans insides to a clod of clay. Beatrice tells Benedick, "I had rather hear my dog bark at a/ crow than a man swear he loves me" (I.ii.131-32) because she is too proud to submit to the will of anyone of a gender that she does not value. If a man tells Beatrice that he loves her and the two wed, she would have to respect the man enough to be able to relinquish partial control, but at the start of Much Ado About Nothing, Beatrice not only lacks a respect for men, she does not have a developed true identity with the capacity to subdue her ego and relinquish control. Because of Beatrices disrespect for men and her inability to submit, her decision to remain unmarried is not surprising. Beatrice says to Hero, "So deliver I up my apes, and away to Saint Peter./ For the heavens, he shows me where the bachelors/ sit, and there live we as merry as the day is long" (II.i.47-59). Benedick, like Beatrice, masks his human desire for love. Benedick is known throughout Messina as a brave and accomplished soldier. When Benedick and the other soldiers return from war, a messenger comes to Messina to tell of their return, and he particularly dwells on Benedicks achievements. According to the messenger, Benedick "hath done good service…in these/ wars...And is a good soldier too" (I.i.48-53). As a soldier, Benedick is used to being in control and hiding vulnerability; therefore, it is not surprising that he conceals the desire he has for love because it could make him appear weak. Benedicks fear of love is particularly evident when he realizes that Claudio loves Hero. Benedick sees that Claudio has changed, and he asks if he himself could ever be altered by love: He was wont to speak plain and to the/ purpose (like an honest man and soldier), and now/ is turned orthography—his words are a very fantastical banquet, just so many strange dishes. May I be so converted and see with these eyes?/ I cannot tell; I think not. I will not be worn but/ love may transform me to an oyster, but Ill take/ my oath on it, till he have made an oyster of/ me, he shall never make me such a fool. (II.iii. 18-26) Benedicks witty rhetoric and honest soldiery make him proud and egotistical, and he thinks that he will no longer be in control of these masculine attributes if he falls in love. But, the truth is, if Benedick is going to be able to develop a true identity that is able to submit, he will not always be able to exert the same control as he did when he was a soldier. Benedicks capacity to grow into his true identity depends on his ability to show weakness through submission. Although Beatrice and Benedick claim that they do not want love, their friends realize that love would bring them happiness, and that Beatrice and Benedick would be ideal for each other. Therefore, Don Pedro plans to mask reality with a trick that will bring the pair together. He explains to Hero, Claudio, and Leonato: I will in the interim undertake/ one of Hercules labors, which is, to/ bring Signior Benedick and the Lady Beatrice into/ a mountain of affection th one with th other. I/ would fain have it a match...I will teach you how to humor your/ cousin, that she shall fall in love with Benedick, and I,/ with your two helps, will so practice on Benedick/ that, in despite of his quick wit and his queasy stom-/ach, he shall fall in love with Beatrice. (II.i.364-84). Don Pedros trick calls for Beatrices friends to discuss Benedicks love for her when they know that she can hear them, and for Benedicks friends to discuss Beatrices love for him. The masking of reality works because it makes Beatrice and Benedick question their superficial, outward denials of love; and when they do, they realize that their true, inward selves do in fact yearn for love, even if companionship means submission. Benedicks development into his true identity is evident after he hears of Beatrices love for him. He responds specifically, as he overhears Don Pedros carefully worded statement: "I love/ Benedick well, and I could wish he would modestly/ examine himself, to see how much he is unworthy/ so good a lady" (II.iii.206-09). Even though Don Pedro is primarily masking reality here, he is not lying about the strong feelings of friendship and concern that he has for Benedick, and Benedick can sense Don Pedros sympathetic honesty. Benedick concludes, "I must not, seem proud; happy are they that hear their detrac-/tions, and can put them to mending...When/I said I would die a bachelor, I did not think/I should live till I were married" (II.iii.228-44). Clearly, the combination of disguise and genuine friendship has proved again successful in helping an individual grow into his true identity and prepare for love. Beatrice also grows into her true identity because she "accidentally" overhears Heros speech, which is very similar to Don Pedros: No, not to be so odd, and from all fashions,/ As Beatrice is, cannot be commendable./ But who dare tell her so?/ If I should speak,/ She would mock me into air; O, she would laugh me/ Out of myself, press me to death with wit./ Therefore let Benedick, like coverd fire,/ Consume away in sighs, waste inwardly./ It were a better death than die with mocks. (III.i.72-79) Beatrice realizes from Heros speech that even her most beloved cousin is afraid to approach her because of her quick wit and unwillingness to submit. Also, when Hero says of Benedick, "I never yet saw man,/ How wise, how noble, young, how rarely featurd" (III.i.59-60), Beatrice, who values her cousins opinion, realizes that Benedick may be not only handsome but also wise and virtuous. Heros masking of reality is shown to be successful when Beatrices subsequent speech makes clear that she knows she has to change: Can this be true?/ Stand I condemnd for pride and scorn so much?/ Contempt, farewell, and maiden pride, adieu!/ No glory lives behind the back of such./ And, Benedick, love on, I will requite thee,/ Taming my wild heart to thy loving hand...For others say thou dost deserve, and I/ Believe it better than reportingly. (III.i. 107-16) Through masking of reality and with the help of committed friends, Beatrice and Benedick grow into their true identities, which are not only able to control, but also be controlled. They have always trusted their friends, but now their developed true identities enable them to trust each other, and they realize that love will bring them happiness. Benedick concludes, "In brief,/ since I do purpose to marry, I will think nothing to/ any purpose that the world can say against it, and/ therefore never flout at me for what I have said/ against it; for man is a giddy thing, and this is my/ conclusion" (V.iv. 104-09). Benedicks "conclusion" about mans "giddiness" again suggests that man must be tricked into understanding himself because straightforward communication simply does not work. Because Benedicks and Beatrices internal lives are different from their external lives, reality must be altered or "masked" for them if they are to understand their inner selves. Paradoxically, "revealing disguises" are necessary because without them, the characters static egos, which refuse to recognize vulnerability, prevent change. So, confusion enables Benedick and Beatrice who have the capacity to submit to humiliation to see past their external flaws, and this, then, causes them to be "shaken to their depths," which allows them to look inward and discover their true identities. Another character in Much Ado About Nothing whose development into a true identity is dependent on a masking of reality is Claudio. Upon returning to Messina, Claudio sees Hero in a new light; to him, she is no longer the young daughter of the governor of Messina. Rather, she is a beautiful maiden with whom he immediately falls in love. Claudio explains to Don Pedro: O my lord,/ When you went onward on this ended action,/I lookd upon her with a soldiers eye,/ That likd, but had a rougher task in hand/ Than to drive liking to the name of love./ But now I am returnd, and that war-thoughts/ Have left their places vacant, in their rooms/ Come thronging soft and delicate desires,/ All prompting me how fair young Hero is. (I.i.296-304) Claudio also tells Benedick, "In mine eye,/ she is the sweetest lady that ever I lookd on" (I.i. 187-88), and when Benedick asks, "I hope you have no intent to turn husband,/ have you?" Claudio replies, "I would scarce trust myself, though I had/ sworn the contrary, if Hero would be my wife" (Li. 193-96). Claudios spontaneity, suggests that "love at first sight," like sudden conversions, is possible because the capacity to love is part of a true identity that is eternally present, even when it is not yet discovered. Claudio must develop a true identity and a better understanding of love. Also, he must learn, through disguises and the masking of reality, to subdue the tendency they have to be rashly unjust. Prior to his wedding day, Claudio looks up in Heros bedroom window and sees a woman and a man conversing intimately. Claudio knows that Hero is attended by several gentlewomen and one in particular who looks like her, yet he and even Don Pedro, who is also a witness, immediately jump to the conclusion that the woman in the window is Hero. Therefore, rather than saying "I do" at his wedding ceremony, he insults the undeserving Hero when he screams, "Would you not swear,/ All you that see her, that she were a maid...But she is none:/ She knows the heat of a luxurious bed;/ Her blush is guiltiness, not modesty" (IV.i.38-42). Claudios rash judgment makes clear that he has to overcome the stereotypical beliefs that he holds about women; otherwise, he will not be able to develop a true identity that can submit to a womans control. Claudios inability to question whether or not Hero is really guilty suggests that he, like many men of the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, distrusts the sexual intentions of women. In order for Claudio to develop into his true identity, he must be able to overcome the stereotypes that guide his actions. He must develop a true identity that is capable of trusting women, especially Hero; otherwise, a loving relationship in which each individual trusts the other enough to relinquish control will not be possible. According to Shakespeares "formula" that is evident throughout the comedies, in order for Claudio to develop into his true identity, he must be tricked, and the Friar is the character who devises the masking of reality. The Friar tells Leonato the plan: Your daughter here the princes left for dead,/ Let her awhile be secretly kept in,/ And publish it that she is dead indeed....Then we find/ The virtue that possession would not show us...So will it fare with Claudio:/ When he shall hear she died upon his words,/ Th idea of her life shall sweetly creep/ Into his study of imagination,...Then shall he mourn,/...And wish he had not accused her. (IV.i.202-32) Like many of the disguise ruses, the Friars plan depends on time, on compassionate friends, and on Claudios capacity to look within himself and discover his true identity. Claudios friends truly care about his future happiness with Hero, and they have faith in the ability of time to reveal truths. Time, in comic, like carnival, tradition is able to progress or slow without the regulations imposed by the past. Also, throughout the comedies time has repeatedly proven to be vital to the successful "untangling" of the plot, and Claudios friends realize that the slowing of time is essential to the development of the unseen in him. The Friars masking of reality will give Claudio the necessary time to examine his external flaws, which prohibit him from trusting or relinquishing control, and then he will be able to look inward and discover his true identity. The Friars plan begins to be executed when Leonato tells Claudio of Heros death: Thou has so wrongd mine innocent child and me/ That I am forcd to lay my reverence by,/ And with grey hairs and bruise of many days,/ Do challenge thee to trial of a man./I say thou hast belied mine innocent child!/ Thy slander hath gone through and through her heart,/ And she lies buried with her ancestors. (V.i.63-69) Claudio proves the ability he has to develop when he apologizes to Leonato and begs for a suitable punishment: "I know not how to pray your patience,/ Yet I must speak. Choose your revenge yourself,/ Impose me to what penance your invention/ Can lay upon my sin" (V.i.271-73). Claudios plea for Leonatos guidance shows that Claudio does not completely trust himself, as he previously did when he distrusted Hero, to decide on a future course of action. Previously, when Claudio thought that Hero was unfaithful, he proceeded without asking for guidance. Now, however, he trusts the judgment of another over his own, a trait that repeatedly characterizes individuals who have developed true identities that are not only able to take control, but also give it up. And, Claudio will continue developing towards achieving his true identity because, as is shown throughout the comedies, character development results from relationships, and Claudio has the benefit of having virtuous friends who want him to change. Leonato responds to Claudios request for guidance by telling him to hang an epitaph on Heros grave, and since Claudio could not be Leonatos son-in-law, Leonato says, "Be yet my nephew./ My brother hath a daughter,/ Almost the copy of my child thats dead,/...Give her the right you should have givn her cousin" (V.i.288-91). Although Claudios willingness to marry Leonatos niece may seem like an abject relinquishing of control, it nevertheless shows that he is developing a true identity that is capable of trusting and submitting. Claudios growth is essential to his future relationship with the unmasked Hero because it will enable him to submit to her will at times and exert his own at others, and Claudios development will enable him to trust his wife. Clearly, the Friars faith in time and the masking of reality help Claudio develop into his true identity, and as a result, a compatible union between Claudio and Hero is possible. Claudio and Hero and Beatrice and Benedick find happiness at the end of the comedy. Happiness is achieved because the characters develop into their true identities that are able to take control and also trustfully give it up, which then enables the characters to enter into loving relationships as compatible partners. Also, each characters growth has depended on his or her relationships with virtuous characters, and these relationships continue after individual identities develop and loving relationships form. So, characters true identities enable them to develop a social identity with their partner and continue a social identity in their communities. Also, these two social relationships are strengthened by the individuals development into a true identity that is able to trust, submit, and also be assertive. Creaser claims that Shakespeares comic "plays dramatize a need to belong, a yearning for community" (87), and this is made clear by characters in the plays who achieve true identities and then immediately form new social identities and strengthen their existing ones. So, the individuals find happiness because their true identities enable personal relationships to develop, and as a result, they are able to strengthen their sense of community. After all, if a virtuous true identity is one that trusts others and can submit to the will of others, its very existence and the happiness that it can bring to an individual who enters into social relationships depend on its being a part of a community. So, the ability to maintain a virtuous true identity becomes the final stage of an individuals development. When a virtuous true identity is fully achieved, a person can continuously be assertive, submissive, and trustful with the members of the community that he or she is a part of. Bibliography Shakespeare,William. "Much Ado About Nothing." The Oxford Shakespeare. Ed. W. J. Craig. Bartleby, 2000 Creaser, John. "Forms of confusion." The Cambridge Companion to Shakespearean Comedy. Ed. Alexander Leggatt. Cambridge: Cambridge UP, 2002. 81-100. William Faulkner: Dry September William Faulkners short story Dry September was written in 1930. It was later published as part of his Collected Stories (1950), which won the National Book Award. Dry September tells the story of a black man, Will Mayes, who is lynched as a result of the unsubstantiated rumor that he has "attacked, insulted, frightened" (517) the middle-aged, unmarried Miss Minnie Cooper. Faulkner establishes subtle discord in the dialectic imagery that pervades the story. The most obvious image, which is initially present in the title, is that of oppressive heat, dryness, and dustiness, which, as critic Howard Faulkner observes, is indicative of "the spiritual drought of the community, which is eager to believe the worst about one of their previously accepted blacks" (117). Even Miss Minnie is "dry"—she has reached middle age, the September of her life, and is probably unable to conceive. However, this depiction is relieved by the description of the "bloody September twilight" (517) that punctuates the two-month drought and the "twice-waxed moon" that appears ready to burst until its "wan hemorrhage" increases (522-23). Faulkner subtly establishes a connection between Miss Minnie and Will by associating the moon with blood, the only reference to moisture in relation to setting throughout the story: the town thirsts for the shedding of Wills blood to avenge Miss Minnies "violation." On another metaphorical level, the moon is representative of the feminine, specifically Miss Minnie. It is "twice-waxed," which suggests an unusual fullness. The association of blood with the abundance of the moon implies youth and sexuality— connections with a womans menstrual cycle, the loss of virginity, and even pregnancy and birth are all plausible. Yet its "twice-waxed" appearance is a peculiarity in such dry, sparse surroundings, and if we are tempted to associate Miss Minnie with this moon, then one wonders what a middle-aged spinster has in common with such images of fertility. Regarding Miss Minnie, a client in the barbershop remarks that "This aint the first man scare she ever had, like Hawkshaw says. Wasnt there something about a man on the kitchen roof, watching her undress, about a year ago?" (519). It is difficult to ignore the sense of dubiety that pervades the story, from the uncertainty of the light to the ambiguity that surrounds Miss Minnies accusations. Her allegation is described as "the rumor, the story, whatever it was. Something about Miss Minnie Cooper and a Negro...none of them...knew exactly what had happened" (517). The only fact firmly established by the men about Miss Minnie is that she "aint married" (517); even though it is also immediately asserted by the barber that Will is "a good nigger," it is easier for the town to "take a white womans word before a niggers" (517). Even though Miss Minnies accusations are initially formless, they turn into a hypothetical truth once the racist seed has been planted, and the dialectic of "white versus black" becomes dominant. It is assumptions like these, instead of fact, that motivate the townsmen to vindicate Miss Minnies honor. One major incongruity lies in Miss Minnie Coopers name. The title the males of the town address her by, "Miss," is deceptive—it is traditionally reserved for an unmarried female or a virgin. However, we are told by the narrator that "the town began to see her driving on Sunday afternoons with the cashier in the bank" (521). The townsmen must have known the cashier, for presumably (from the description we are provided with), he frequented two exclusively male establishments—the barbershop and the bar. Furthermore, he "owned the first automobile in town, a red runabout" (521). It would be difficult to ignore the first automobile in town, much less a red one. Yet only the men of the town utilize the title "Miss" when referring to her. We are then informed that it has been "twelve years now since she had been relegated into adultery by public opinion" (521). However, the cashier was a widower—therefore, her relationship with him could not have been adulterous. If she had indeed consummated a sexual relationship with the cashier, she might have been considered other things, but she could not have been considered an adulteress. The case for Faulkners subversive sympathy with Will is strengthened as he underscores the mens ignorance each time he has them address Minnie as "Miss." One certainty does exist in "Dry September": that of the towns definite patriarchal structure. The men are gathered in a barbershop, an exclusively male environment in which (like its counterpart, the beauty salon) gossip thrives. The initial aggressor is "a hulking youth" (517) named Butch, whose hostile, exclamatory statements immediately condemn Will. He immediately takes possession of Miss Minnies welfare: "Damn if Im going to let a white woman—"(518, italics mine). His statement indicates his perceived burden of responsibility—as a white man in the Southern community, he is obligated to safeguard every aspect of it. However, this is an ironically childish initiation rite— Butch must displace another man by killing him in order to establish his own place in the community. Because Butch feels compelled to act based upon an unsubstantiated rumor, his participation in the lynching suggests that he harbors an irrational fear of Wills (or any black mans) sexual superiority, and on a larger level, his superiority as a male. The name "Butch" is ironic—by describing his impulsive, thoughtless rationale, Faulkner has shown us that Butch is really a child in a nineteen year-olds body. Interestingly, one of Butchs strongest supporters is "a drummer and a stranger" (518), probably an itinerant salesman. It is significant that Wills murder party consists of some of these men, who know so little about the situation. The drummers allegiance with Butch underscores his own ignorance—not only does he appear as childish as Butch, he also has a strong opinion of something he knows nothing about. Yet the drummer claims to have a familial relationship with the women of this town; he is furious that "our mothers and wives and sisters" (519) are potential victims of the same fate that supposedly befell Miss Minnie. Faulkner subtly introduces the implication of genealogical relationships such as this throughout Dry September in order to encourage the reader to infer what cannot be stated. It is clear that these men, including strangers, claim all white women as their own. Furthermore, Faulkner implies at the end of the story that all black women are theirs as well. Because of his association with this communitys townsmen, it appears that the drummer feels the same way—if this is the case, then perhaps Faulkner is pointing out that many whites were somewhat hypocritical in their anti-slavery crusade, no matter where they were from, and were just as guilty of such crimes as miscegenation as these townspeople were. John McLendon, who quickly assumes the position of leader, is also seemingly representative of masculinity; he enters the barbershop like a caricature of the justice-seeking cowboy entering the saloon for a showdown. His assertive stance and "hot, bold glance" immediately commands the attention of the group; he is its undisputed leader, because he has both the requisite military background and the ability to incite the others to act: "Well, he said, are you going to sit there and let a black son rape a white woman on the streets of Jefferson?" (518). Under his expectant gaze, the others, even though they are uncertain of Wills guilt, "sat uncomfortable, not looking at one another, then one by one they rose and joined him" (519). Being associated with a strong Southern male such as McLendon ensures that the others will be perceived as men, too. Howard Faulkner characterizes the leader as a "brutal and stupid" individual who can "overcome whatever voices of reason there are simply by the force of his character and his intimidation of the weaker members" (108). Indeed, when a member of the group asks in response to McLensons call to action if Miss Minnie was really raped, he quickly barks, "What the hell difference does it make? Are you going to let the black sons get away with it until one really does itV" (519). Butch responds positively to this rationale, and then "curses, long and steady, pointless" (519). In their minds, because the potential threat is there, the crime has been committed, even if not against Miss Minnie. The mere suggestion of their territory being claimed by a black man is enough to inspire fear and hatred in men who desire control as much as McLendon and his young apprentice do. However, McLendons control and strength are questionable—they are illusions, just like Miss Minnies innocence. He is confronted with the same irrational threat as Butch, and he reacts in much the same manner. By portraying them similarly, Faulkner implies that McLendon operates on Butchs intelligence level. Like the dust and the heat that pervades the town, rationale stagnates when these men are threatened with mere hearsay. McLendon and the others who actively participate in Wills lynching are cast in an unflattering light once Faulkner prods us to examine their reasoning more closely. Their behavior, and the reasoning that motivates it, also implicitly suggests that Faulkner is subversively sympathizing with Wills plight. Before McLendon arrives, one of the barbers, Hawkshaw, implores the others to "Find out the truth first" (518). According to Howard Faulkner, Hawkshaw is representative of the "adversarial point of view, someone who counsels patience and advocates letting the law run its course" (108). Hawkshaw is described as "a thin, sand-colored man" (517). Then, as the men in the barbershop discover where each others sympathies lie, one says to Hawkshaw, "Youre a fine white man.. .Aint you?" Later, as McLendon and Hawkshaw gaze into each others face after Hawkshaw reiterates the need to obtain factual evidence, the narrator observes that "They looked like men of different races" (519). Again, Faulkner has introduced the possibility of a taboo genealogical relationship here. It is possible that Hawkshaw is perceived as black because of his sympathy with Will. Because of his unpopular point of view, his race is questioned by the others—because he is a "niggerlover," he must be black as well. However, he could also be the product of miscegenation. Faulkner describes him ambiguously enough for this to be the case, and he even allows another character to question Hawkshaws race, implying that every man in the barbershop knows what cannot be said: that all women, even in the post-Civil War era, whether white or black, are the property of white males. It is ironic that the other men call Hawkshaw a niggerlover"—since miscegenation occurred at the time, and is implied in this story, they would all be "niggerlovers." As one of the drummers attempts to become more involved in the crusade against Will, Hawkshaw, who has been shaving him, holds him down with the razor poised above his neck. The narrator describes this action twice, and its presence is doubly significant- It is first a subtle reversal of the castration rite that often accompanied a lynching that took place as the result of a rape, whether real or imagined. The "niggerlover" who will eventually be perceived as a white "nigger" holds his knife above the head and neck of the bigoted client, urging him to "find out the facts first" (519). The fact that Hawkshaw is holding a razor above the clients neck also adds further ambiguity concerning his race. Hawkshaws razor, the choice of weapon for "Negroes" as implied in the anecdote above, stands in marked contrast to the pistol that McLendon brandishes with braggadocio. Hawkshaw is the most enlightened in the barbershop, yet Faulkner ambiguously portrays bis race. If Faulkner the artist was a racist, then why does he portray Hawkshaw as the most intelligent one in the shop? It is highly dubious that a racist would cast Hawkshaw, a man of uncertain racial origin, in this flattering a light. Even though his actions do not appear to do so, his statements reflect his radical and potentially dangerous point of view: "I know Will Mayes. Hes a good nigger. And I know Miss Minnie Cooper, too" (517). Even in the words themselves, Hawkshaw privileges Will over Miss Minnie. Faulkner draws Hawkshaw ambiguously in order to suggest that a white man could indeed transcend racial barriers in the South, and by doing so, he reinforces Hawkshaws moral superiority. Even though Hawkshaw is unable to alter the course of events, his superior character and progressive sentiments stand out in sharp relief to the others questionable rationale. Indeed, Hawkshaw does appear cowardly when he jumps out of the moving car that contains Will, especially after defending him so staunchly earlier in the barbershop. However, a closer look reveals that Will also attempts to escape the confines of the vehicle (524), suggesting a thematic resemblance between the two men. Furthermore, what other option does he have? He cannot physically confront the other men—not only would he be outnumbered, he would also risk death. As he runs after McLendon and the rest of the mob earlier, a barber watching him murmurs "I’d just as lief be Will Mayes as Hawk, if he gets McLendon riled" (520). Because he cannot physically stop the situation, he removes himself morally from it by jumping from the moving vehicle. He cannot save Wills life at this point; however, he has altered his own dramatically by refusing to participate in Wills murder. Hawkshaw must realize to some extent what repercussions fleeing from the situation will have. By jumping from the car, Hawkshaw undeniably becomes the "niggerlover" he is branded at the beginning of the story. Consequently, he will be socially cast out, for he is now the white "nigger" the others accused him of being from the start. The jump from the car, then, is a brave, albeit implicit, moral statement. In the barbershop, McLendon asks the others if they will allow "a black son" to get away with the alleged rape against Miss Minnie. Later, as they capture Will, a voice whispers in the darkness "Kill him, kill the son" (523). It can be contended that "son" is a euphemistic, shortened version of the phrase "son of a bitch." However, the expression "son of a bitch" was acceptable in print in the 1930s, and Faulkner would not have had a reason to be concerned about censorship issues. Furthermore, utilizing a shortened form of the expression seems out of character and out of context. The lynch mob is composed of men who appear to be irrational—it is highly unlikely that they are concerned about etiquette at this point. (H. Faulkner) Faulkner also does not make use of the more common "boy" to refer to Will or any other black man throughout Dry September. Therefore, the repeated use of the word "son" to refer to Will and other black men is semantically significant in a number of ways. Its first appearance in McLendons statement is revealing—in response to a client who asks, "Did it really happen?" McLendon angrily responds with curious logic: "Happen? What the hell difference does it make? Are you going to let the black sons get away with it until one really does it?" (519). In this statement, McLendon implicitly agrees that the rape was probably fabricated; however, if Will (or any black man) is vindicated, then the greater the potential for the occurrence of a real rape. During Wills capture, the insistent whisper "Kill him, kill the son" (523) Faulkner devotes two of the five sections of the short story exclusively to Miss Minnie Cooper; after all, it is because of her that the action occurs. Miss Minnie attempts to redirect her sexuality, but she succeeds only temporarily. As if hinting at her failure to permanently and positively alter her existence, Faulkner surrounds her with images of resounding emptiness and decay; she is taking care of her mother and "a thin, sallow, unflagging aunt" (520): she is all angles with no promise of softness. The title and final images in the story indicate that she is unable to permanently alter her existence. Miss Minnie is a construct of the town in which she lives; however, she wishes to escape its control over her. She attempts to reshape the towns image of her when she "asks her old schoolmates that their children call her cousin instead of aunty" (521). She is trapped, at this late age, in a strange existence, forced simultaneously into the roles of virgin and spinster; she is, however, "the last to realize that she is losing ground" (520). With her aunt running the household and her sick mother bedridden, a strong female figure is conspicuously absent in Miss Minnies life; such a situation encourages her to rely upon herself for survival, but it also encourages the town to become a surrogate father and protector. She attempts to procure the attentions of a man; yet her potential as a bride has "a quality of furious unreality" (521). She is cognizant of the fact that "the sitting and lounging men do not even follow her with their eyes any more" (522), regardless of her efforts to make them do so. She attempts, therefore, to claim ownership of herself, to fill the void. Realizing that her moment in the spotlight has faded, she resorts to an unusual method: she regains the towns attentions with accusations against a Negro. Miss Minnie has been regarded as "tainted" by the town until her allegations surface; the narrator tells us that "It was twelve years now since she had been relegated into adultery by public opinion" (521) as a result of her affair with the widowed cashier. Because of her "adulterous" affair and her age, no man in the town is interested in pursuing her. However, as a result of the supposed rape, she is suddenly perceived as the lily-white virgin who was violated by the black beast; furthermore, she becomes sexually desirable. As she traverses the square and passes the drugstore after Will has been killed, "even the young men lounging in the doorway tipped their hats and followed with their eyes the motion of her hips and legs when she passed" (526). Miss Minnie is now presumably "stained" as a result of being raped by a black man; hence, she should be undesirable to white males. However, the male characters fascination with her suggests that Faulkner is questioning and revising the stereotype of the "tainted," violated white woman. At any rate, the mens interest in Miss Minnie after the supposed rape strangely reinforces the white male fear of the mythological sexual superiority of the black male. Initially, the town irrationally deems Minnie an "adulteress," but their behavior appears even more irrational when they find a sullied, violated woman as sexually attractive as she suddenly seems to be. Even though she has not fulfilled typical roles as those around her have, Miss Minnie is quite aware of the power of her status as a Southern woman in the town, and she utilizes it to reshape her existence. Her accusations serve the purpose of momentarily reaffirming her existence as a sexual being, for the sexually potent black male desires her. She has also been reclaimed by the town as a woman who needs protection; her accusations underscore her helplessness. Even though the townspeople are quite aware that Miss Minnie has made similar accusations in the past, they ignore this fact. Instead, they passively encourage her behavior, as she walks amongst them, "the suddenly ceased voices" are "deferent, protective" (526). Because she is probably aware that her accusations will follow certain thought patterns in the community mindset, and because they do, Miss Minnie has temporarily succeeded in controlling the progression of time. She has also proven herself capable of governing an otherwise futile reality. The force and resolve of the communitys patriarchal instincts stand in sharp contrast to Miss Minnies fragility; the males of the town, in their consolidated need to protect her, have collectively become a father and on some levels, a lover to her. Thus, her allegations allow her to reestablish her femininity (albeit in a negative way). Any previous complaints she may have registered of a similar nature are trivial; like a protective parent, the townsmen overlook such concerns quickly in their single-minded desire to right any wrongs immediately. Ironically, they are not as fully focused upon her as she believes them to be; they are quick to retaliate primary to reassert their own male potency.Miss Minnie dresses for Saturday evening supper like a bride preparing for her wedding night: "she donned her sheerest underthings and stockings and a new voile dress" (525). She is fully aware of, and alive with, her own sexuality: "her own flesh felt like fever. Her hands trembled.. .and her eyes had a feverish look, and her hair swirled crisp and crackling under the comb" (525). The mens sudden interest in Miss Minnie suggest that they derive psychological potency from her by identifying themselves with the assumed "virile black man" who "raped" her. Furthermore, the allusions to surreptitious sexuality throughout the story, from Miss Minnies sheer underclothes to the townspeoples avid interest in her "violation," suggest that not only are both sexes intrigued by the myth of black male sexuality, but that they also perpetuate the vicious cycle. The women wonder to each other: "Do you suppose anything really happened? their eyes darkly aglitter, secret and passionate" (527). At midnight, when McLendon arrives home to his waiting wife, he becomes angry: "Havent I told you about sitting up like this, waiting to see when I come in?...She stood passive, looking at him" (527). McLendon has been out late before, and judging from his reaction to his wife and his wifes behavior, we are forced to ask where he has been. His actions imply that he is trying to hide something from his wife; even though his habitual tardiness could be explained in many ways, it is possible that he has killed other black "sons" in the past. It is also a very real possibility that he has been with a black woman. Miss Minnie has momentarily transcended the "furious unreality" of her daily existence to step into the "miniature fairyland" of the picture show she has created; in her efforts to control the communitys perceptions of her, she becomes one of the "colored lithographs of life caught in its terrible and beautiful mutations" (526). Life, as played out on the silver screen, is "beautiful and passionate and sad"; like the consummate actress, Miss Minnie has molded her existence to temporarily echo this image. On the stage of this town, racial fantasy has been substituted for racial reality, and white desire for the segregated and demonized black "Other" can be played out within the safe confines of the patriarchy. However, it is only a matter of time before the show ends. Forcing the fantastic into the realm of reality is dangerous, for the light of day exposes all pretenses. For the time being, however, she has earmarked the blank page and is barely unable to hold back the giddiness of having "pulled one over" on the others. The lynching has provided a vehicle for McLendon to temporarily reclaim his masculinity; he is thrust into a role that formerly brought him military glory when he becomes the leader once again. It has also allowed Miss Minnie to temporarily reclaim her attractiveness. However, they have utilized props suggesting youth and military glory (Miss Minnies clothing; McLendons pistol) to encourage others to perceive them as they want to be perceived; these trappings are easily shed at the end of the day, and both are violently thrust back into their former futile existences. Miss Minnie realizes that her attempts to subvert the patriarchy by turning it upon itself have not fully succeeded. Her friends administer ice to her, assuming that the ever-present heat and the circumstances have overcome her. However, the ice only serves as a reminder of Will, the former night watchman at an ice plant. As long as the ice remains cold (metaphorically signifying Wills dead body and, on another level, the townspeoples acceptance of her tale), Miss Minnie remains relatively calm; however, as it warms, "the laughing welled again and her voice rose screaming" (526). Her celluloid fantasy has finally crumbled—crazed with guilt, Miss Minnies howl is a recognition of, and a protest against, the reality that now surrounds her. The last image in the story is similar to the first: McLendon is drenched in perspiration, surrounded by the relentless heat: "he stood panting. There was no movement, no sound, not even an insect. The dark world seemed to lie stricken beneath the cold moon and the lidless stars" (527). Her friends have removed Miss Minnies clothing, and McLendon angrily strews his clothing about the house; both are naked in the stifling heat. In spite of this, both characters struggle to breathe; metaphorically, the present state of affairs in the town thwarts breath, understanding, growth. Both characters unorthodox behaviors at the close of the tale suggest that they both subconsciously realize how futile their actions have been as Wills presence inhabits the stasis surrounding them, oppressing them. Faulkner utilizes members of his own race to expose the irrational rationale that prevails throughout Dry September. Is this the trademark of a writer who is caught in the chasm between reality and poetry? It is highly unlikely. In spite of statements Faulkner made during his lifetime that may have reflected his conflicting personal feelings concerning race, the fictive space that abounds with silences speaks volumes. It is evident throughout Dry September that Faulkner the artist is able to transcend his place and time by subversively sympathizing with Will Mayes. Bibliography Faulkner, Howard. "Homespun Justice: The Lynching in American Fiction." South Dakota Review 22 (1984): 104-19. Faulkner, William. "Dry September." The Faulkner Reader. New York: Modern Library, 1959. 517-27. D.H. Lawrence: The Rocking-Horse Winner The Rocking-Horse Winner, often cited to be atypical of Lawrences stories, is at the least consistent with this particular social concern, and an enactment of one person killing another about it. The tale also utilizes elements of the supernatural, which Lawrence had turned to occasionally in earlier stories. The Rocking-Horse Winner is a story about the devastating effects that money can have on a family, and, further, that Lawrences specific objections in the story are not to money abstractly conceived, but to money as it is understood and valued by capitalist culture. The class nature of labor under capital is presented symbolically in the story in terms of the adult and non-adult worlds. That is, social reality is controlled by parents whose primary concern is to bring in money sufficient to "the social position which they (have) to keep up" (790). While they have a small income, and while "The father went in to town to some office" (790), they never are really seen to work actively and productively. Rather, they set a tone of need in their world that generates intense and pervasive anxiety, which then is passed down to their children, who interiorize the values and attitudes of the adult world and set about (as best they can) to satisfy the demands of that world. Young Paul exemplifies vividly the sort of work that arises under capital. Simply put, he is a laborer for his mother, to whom he gives all of his money, only to find that the more he gives the more she needs. It is true, of course, that as a handicapper he invests money, betting on a profitable return on his investment, and that in this sense he is a sort of capitalist; indeed, it is his betting that is the literal sign of the economic relations controlling the world of the story. But at the same time his character is made to carry a much larger symbolic significance, for what he is investing, in real terms, is himself, selling his skills to generate wealth that he is not free to possess, but that is necessary to the maintenance of existing social relations. Hester in The Rocking-Horse Winner is a woman "who started with all the advantages, yet she had no luck. She married for love, and the love turned to dust." Lawrence does not describe the process of disillusionment that has occurred in Hesters marriage, caused by the husbands failure to be an adequate bread-winner and supporter of the family. The father in The Rocking-Horse Winner is clearly a failure as provider and family-head, so much so that we are scarcely conscious of his existence. He fades into the background. And his failure is aggravated by the high social position the family tries to maintain. "There was never enough money," we are told. "The mother had a small income, and the father had a small income, but not nearly enough for the social position which they had to keep up." When The Rocking-Horse Winner opens, the process of disaffection has already occurred, and the close love between husband and wife which would have generated the mystical energy necessary for the familys well-being has been transformed into an ugly passion, greed. Hester romanticizes the family greed into mystical love of money, as personified in the whispering house, which "came to be haunted by the unspoken phrase: There must be more money! There must be more money!" (793) And her mystical abstraction communicates itself insidiously to the children, making them insecure and self-conscious just as the love between her and her husband if it still existed would have made them feel wanted and safe. Hester is closer to her children, especially Paul, than to her husband. Though she is incapable of love, she is out of a sense of duty at least solicitous for her children, for they are her link with life and vitality—with the mystical force of love that is nearly dead in her heart. The story can be read as the climax in the chronicle of the death of love in Hester, the death of her heart, and that as such it ought to be read primarily as an allegory of the death of the child in her, the death of innocence and love. At the beginning of the story we are told that "at the center of her heart was a hard little place that could not feel love, no, not for anyone." (796) The motif of Hesters hardness is repeated in the story though she clings to her anxiety over Paul, but by the end of the story when Paul has lapsed into a coma she is "heart-frozen." Just as Pauls eyes are like "blue stones," so his mothers heart is stone-like. "His mother sat feeling her heart had gone, turned actually into a stone." With Pauls death the death of spirit in Hester is complete, for he was her last contact with the mystical springs of love that well up in all of us only if we love some other human being, as Lawrence said, with complete "nakedness of body and spirit." The mystifying of greed is finally an empty mysticism, which destroys the worshipper of money as it destroys Paul and as it destroys Hester. As his mother touches the money he earns, she uses it not to satisfy family needs — it has little or no use value — but to extend her social position and social power, and the process of extension of course is never ending, requiring ever greater sums of money: "There were certain new furnishings, and Paul had a tutor. He was really going to Eton, his fathers school, in the following autumn. There were flowers in the winter, and a blossoming of the luxury Pauls mother had been used to. And yet the voices in the house, behind the sprays of mimosa and almond-blossom, and from under the piles of iridescent cushions, simply trilled and screamed in a sort of ecstasy: There must be more money! " (800). This passage clearly focuses the priority of money over commodity and the relentlessness with which the power associated with money controls even the most personal dimension of life. The closeness between mother and son is carefully developed in the story. Their conversation and interaction make for the central human interest in the story, but the relationship is unfortunately blighted from the beginning by Hesters hardness of heart. She cares only for money and her terrible romanticism infects Paul in his solicitation for her. He is trapped in the web of mystified greed that she has woven and which she calls luck: "...he went about with a sort of stealth, seeking inwardly for luck. He wanted luck, he wanted it, he wanted it" Luck is money in the abstract, the mystical sense because luck will always bring money and, being divinely given, cannot (unlike money) be taken away. "Its what causes you to have money. If youre lucky you have money. Thats why its better to be born lucky than rich." (797) The spurious mystical net is cast by the mother and the son is caught in its cords. From this point on they are one in their self-destructive mystical union. At the point when the boy is in the depths of his agony over the upcoming Derby, the union grows particularly strong and weighty— the mothers "heart curiously heavy because of him." In an interview he advises her not to be anxious about him: "I wouldnt worry, mother, if I were you." "If you were me and I were you, said his mother, I wonder what we should do." (796) And it is so, as her response indicates: they are for the time one. The motif running throughout the story of the flaming, glaring, sometimes wild blue eyes of the boy reinforces the idea of their union. It is as if an alien spirit inhabited and drove him to seek for luck and the spirit is of course the spirit of his mother, the spirit of greed. She is inside of him, flashing out from behind "his big blue eyes blazing with a sort of madness." His madness is hers, and with his death she is left to a living death. The fusion of souls between Paul and Hester has the effect of distributing Pauls consciousness far abroad from himself so that the boy does in a sense understand; but the secrets which their mystical oneness reveal to him are the secrets of winning money disclosed in a mystified greed, and not the rewarding mysteries of life that motherly love would have opened up. Paul, is urged on and on in his quest for luck, riding a rocking-horse which he urges on and on; yet Paul is urged not into life but death for he shares with his mother not the "reciprocal love" that would make them both sensitive to life but a ratified greed that finally consumes them both. Paul is innocent, naive, and even loving of his mother. It is his mystical openness to her that leaves him vulnerable to the terrible forces she unleashes in her own household. To take him too realistically is faulty criticism for he is very much a symbol of the childish innocence that his mother has sadly let die in her. He accepts her worship of luck unconsciously: "Well, anyhow," he said stoutly, "Im a lucky person." "Why?" said his mother, with a sudden laugh. He stared at her. He didnt know why he had said it; and he pursues that nebulous entity under the almost religious guidance of Bassett, who "was serious as a church." (798) In another context and under more admirable inspiration, the boys death might even be seen as the supreme sacrifice, since he gives up his life to placate his mothers tormented spirit. Alas, she will not now have to worry about money: "My God, Hester, youre eighty-odd thousand to the good, and a poor devil of a son to the bad." (799) Paul is finally pathetic rather than immoral, and pathetic too is the stony-hearted mother. Relying upon the devices of allegory, Lawrence sets in place a definite set of religious interests that illustrate the role of Christianity under capitalism. The presence of Christianity in the story is set forth most readily, of course, in the depiction of the young Paul as a Christ figure; not only is he referred to repeatedly as "son," but he also possesses a seemingly magical power that comes from heaven. The symbolic dimension of Pauls characterization becomes even more apparent when it is placed in the context of the descriptions of Bassett and Uncle Oscar, who are presented as participants in the serious money-making scheme to which Paul is committed. Not only is Bassett a permanent presence in the garden, storing there Pauls winnings; he is also described in religious terms and he speaks of Pauls betting in the most reverent voice: " Master Paul comes and asks me, so I cant do more than tell him, sir, said Bassett, his face terribly serious, as if he were speaking of religious matters" (794). Or again when he explains to the doubting Oscar how Paul knows which horse will win, he says: "its as if he had it from heaven, sir" (797). Uncle Oscar, in his turn, is presented as a sort of father figure, evidenced not only in the fact that he is the only male adult consistently present in the story, but more importantly in the way he expresses his relationship to Paul in paternal terms: "All right, son! Well manage it without her knowing" (798). "I leave it to you, son" (799). "Let it alone, son! Dont you bother about it!" (800). Moreover, it is firmly committed to a money ethic that becomes the basis for all human value and the key to all human exchange. As Paul tells Uncle Oscar at the moment the trinity emerges as an actual and discernible presence in the story," If youd like to be a partner, uncle, with Bassett and me, we could be partners. Only, youd have to promise, honor bright, uncle, not to let it go beyond us three" (796). This value scheme explains clearly the secrecy that is seen everywhere in the story: in Pauls "secret within a secret" (801); in the decision of Paul, Bassett, and Oscar to withhold information from the mother; in the mothers response to the money that falls her way, as if from heaven; in the mothers secret work "in the studio of a friend" (799), and more. Even while Lawrence carefully places Christianity at the center of the story as a religion of money, he subtly employs a rhetorical strategy that points up its impurity and ultimately its viciousness. This is seen in several minor touches, beginning with the description of Bassett. While he is "serious as a church" when talking about money, and spends much of his time cultivating the garden under his care, at the same time Bassett is not untouched by the world; in fact he is clearly scarred: "Bassett, the young gardener, who had been wounded in the left foot in the war and got his present job through Oscar Cresswell, whose batman he had been, was a perfect blade of the turf " (794). Likewise, despite Oscars language and his confident paternal nature that would seem to suggest his innocence and integrity, he is not a real father; he only plays the role, assuming authority, for instance, to sign the agreement that allows Pauls mother to touch all of the money he wins. The most telling example of the true nature of Lawrences trinity, however, is of course Paul himself, who willingly sacrifices himself to save the world into which he was born. His death gives his family the financial independence that it has sought all along, but the creed that has made this independence possible, even while it appears holy and pure, is in fact emphatically devilish. As Uncle Oscar tells his sister after Pauls death: "My God, Hester, youre eighty-odd thousand to the good and a poor devil of a son to the bad. But, poor devil, hes best gone out of a life where he rides his rocking horse to find a winner" (804). The story has to it an altogether unbelievable air, not that it lacks therefore conviction and meaning. The whispering house, the riding of a rocking-horse to find race winners, the motif of Pauls blazing, uncanny blue eyes—all give the story an eerie unreality that lifts it out of the moral realm into the sphere of mystical relationships where inexplicable forces shape our lives. Even Pauls death is finally mysterious and can only be explained as resulting from the destructive power of mystified greed in which his mother has enveloped him. Inasmuch as the boys death marks the death of the last vestige of something vibrant, loving, and irrational in her life, it is also the death in Hester of mystical forces that sustain life while rendering it trying. Lawrence does not want reader to see Paul as a kind of child-sacrifice; he scarcely wants us to see him in a moral light at all for the moral light is cast full upon Hester and by reflection upon the nearly invisible father and from them out upon our money-maddened, love-starved society. The style of much of Lawrences fiction is abstruse, dense, and compact, but the style of The Rocking-Horse Winner is deceptively simple with the simplicity of a Biblical parable and with some of the same allegorical overtones. Bibliogarphy Lawrence, D. H. "The Rocking-Horse Winner." The Complete Short Stories of D. H. Lawrence. London: William Heinemann Ltd., 1955 Mark Twain: The Celebrated Jumping Frog of Calaveras County The Celebrated Jumping Frog of Calaveras County, which first appeared in 1865, is one of Twains finest short stories. Indeed, Twain has succeeded in converting a plain folk tale into an artistic short story. In his version, Twain has made significant artistic innovations and added concrete and specific details for stronger verisimilitude. Thus, this story displays Twains brilliant command of literary devices and the vernacular language while retaining its original charms as a folk legend. But the primary charm of the story still lies in its folk elements. The Celebrated Jumping Frog of Calaveras County is a short story with the message that what goes around comes around. In his first successful story, Mark Twain uses local dialect, customs of the time, and patterns of social status to create a reasonable view of the area in which the narrative takes place. The way that the characters act is very unique. Characteristic dialect is also used to provide the reader with a convincing sense of the background in the story. The public status of the key characters in Jumping Frog of Calaveras County also was something that Twain take into consideration in writing this story. The story of Jumping Frog is Twains anti-narrative. In fact, epistemological frustration begins as early as the sketchs initial frame, which consists of Twains letter to friend, who has requested him to find out about Leonidas W. Smiley. In this opening letter, Twain warns the reader that what follows will be a story filled with epistemological roadblocks: "I called on good-natured, garrulous old Simon Wheeler, and I enquired after your friend Leonidas W. Smiley, as you requested me to do, and I hereunto append the result." In effect, the tables are turned on both Twain (the narrator) and the reader in the second frame of the story, in which Wheeler does all the talking, though he makes little sense. In that second frame. Twain begins by telling how he found Wheeler "dozing comfortably by the bar-room stove of the little old dilapidated tavern in the ancient mining camp of Boomerang"; as Twain tells it, when he asked about Smiley, Wheeler "backed me into a corner and blockaded me there with his chair—and then sat down and reeled off the monotonous narrative" about a man named Jim Smiley, who was no relation to the aforementioned Leonidas W. Smiley. Wheelers tale of Jim Smiley forms the body of the text, where each example is wilder and more exact than the previous, it turns out, and thus the yarn amounts to a series of toppers." The beleaguered Twain (as narrator and knowledge-seeker) has no choice but to endure Wheelers rant. Finally, however, Twain is able to sneak out of the story (the reader, too) when Wheeler is momentarily distracted from his monologue. As he runs for the door, Twain ironically states, "I did not think a continuation of the history of the enterprising vagabond Jim Smiley would be likely to afford me much information concerning the Rev. Leonidas W. Smiley, so I backed away". The charm of Twains story partly arises from the conspicuous differences in manner and speech between the frame narrator and Simon Wheeler. However, Twain develops the frame device further in this story: the frame narrator introduces Simon Wheeler, and Simon Wheeler introduces Jim Smiley and his fantastic animals. Therefore, readers find two narrators in the double framework. Both the frame narrator and Simon Wheeler are faithful to their roles. The narrator is the typical pretentious and condescending traveler, and Wheeler is the typical rustic and simple native Westerner. Both the frame narrator and Wheeler keep thoroughly straight faces. Indeed, the effect of the double deadpan manners in this story is effective and complex. The frame narrator plays a minor role in comparison with garrulous Wheeler. Author illustrates local customs and the ways that the characters act to generate a more down-to-earth background for the story. In the Jumping Frog of Calaveras County the characters engage in activities or performance that would be abnormal for a regular individual to do. For instance, the narrator says: Simon Wheeler backed me into a corner and blockaded me there with his chair, and then sat down and reeled off the monotonous narrative which follows this paragraph. He never smiled, he never frowned, he never changed his voice from the gentle-flowing key to which he tuned his initial sentence… Such quote demonstrates the kind of person that Simon was because it shows that he is willing to corner a stranger and tell him a long story that the stranger most likely does not want to hear. Smiley figured out a way to make it so he would win the bet every time when th Read More