THOUGHTS ON MARY WOLLSTONECRAFT'S "A VINDICATION OF THE RIGHTS OF WOMAN"

Ushered in on the sleeve of the French Revolution, the Romantic period brought with it a newly discovered obsession with individual freedom.  Government and society grabbled with conflict and turmoil, while the writers of the time grasped onto the concept of freedom, expounding on its virtues and presenting numerous ways for man to enjoy all this new freedom had to offer.  Great men like Thomas Paine, Rousseau, and Dr. Gregory produced powerful essays on the topic of freedom, education, and the rights of man, but none of these important voices of the Romantic period extended these same rights to women, “render[ing] women more artificial, weak characters than they would otherwise have been; and, consequently, more useless members of society” (Wollstonecraft 107).  It was her reading of Charles Maurice de Talleyrand-Perigord’s recommendations to the National Assembly of France concerning the educational system, however, that inspired Mary Wollstonecraft to address equality for women’s education in her essay, “A Vindication of the Rights of Woman.”  Through the use of straightforward, powerful diction, Wollstonecraft composed a finely structured persuasive essay, urging women to dismiss the notion of sensibility and become rational, independent individuals capable of contributing to society, while also challenging men of importance to examine the antiquated beliefs towards women and education

Wollstonecraft crafted her essay into two major components.  The first chapter was designed to plant the seed of change in the minds of women “in the middle class because they appear to be in the most natural state” (Wollstonecraft 103). Wollstonecraft knew that she had to convince women that, by giving into their whims and emotions, “not only do they do harm to themselves but they also do harm to all of civilization: [that they] are not women who can refine civilization – [they] are women who will destroy it” (Wikipedia).  She felt strongly about the state of affairs women had been forced into accepting, leaving them to viewed more as the playthings of men rather than individuals capable of contributing to the world in which they lived.  It angered her that this inequality was blindly accepted so she set out to “persuade women to endeavor to acquire strength, both of mind and body, and to convince them that…the refinement of taste are almost always synonymous with epithets of weakness” (Wollstonecraft 104).  Because she didn’t wish to single out any one social class, her language was simple, forceful, and anything but delicate.  Wollstonecraft wanted her female readers to wake up and take notice of their situation and strive towards becoming independent and productive.

Because of her keen understanding of the situation of women, Wollstonecraft knew that the task of becoming independent through obtaining an education equal to that of their male counterparts was something that couldn’t be accomplished without assistance.  “Because women are uneducated…men must come to their aid [by initiating] the social and political changes she outlines in “Rights of Woman” (Wikipedia).  She doesn’t deny that the physical differences between men and women predestine a man to be superior in strength, thus making him the appropriate candidate for certain tasks.  She pleads with men of influence to help women “cultivate their minds, give them the salutary, sublime curb of principle, and let them attain conscious dignity by feeling themselves only dependent on God” (Wollstonecraft 116).  She goes on to assure these men that “should the experience prove that they cannot attain the same degree of strength of mind, perseverance, and fortitude, let their virtues be the same in kind, though they may vainly struggle for the same degree…the superiority of man will be equally clear” (Wollstonecraft 116).  In short, she presented the problem and then offered a solution and was willing to admit defeat if the situation called for it.

Wollstonecraft’s task to persuade women to stand up for their God-given rights, while also asking for the support of the very men she held responsible for the oppression of those women, loomed large in the face of a society that spent years supporting inequality between the sexes.  Fear of failure didn’t stop her from putting her powerful words to work towards the higher good of all concerned.  Her dedication to the cause of education for women opened the door for equality in many other areas. 

 

Works Cited

Wikipedia contributors. "A Vindication of the Rights of Woman." Wikipedia, The Free Encyclopedia. Wikipedia.org. 1 Oct. 2016. Web. Accessed 4 November 2016. https://en.wikipedia.org/w/index.php?title=Special:CiteThisPage&page=A_Vindication_of_the_Rights_of_Woman&id=742139097

Wollstonecraft, Mary. “A Vindication of the Rights of Woman.” The Broadview Anthology of British Literature: The Age of Romanticism. Vol. 4. 2^nd ed. Peterborough, Ontario: Broadview Press. 2010. pp. 103-116. Print.

A Story of Growing Up, Facing Fears, and Having Faith in the Face of Unspeakable Tragedy: "Ordinary Grace" by William Kent Krueger

Across the generations there is a common thread that binds us all.  There is a moment that defines us.  A moment when we step from childhood into the world of being an adult.  For some, that moment comes gently, easing us from the sheltered arms of youth into the ever-changing world that awaits us.  For others, that moment is thrust upon us, throwing us headfirst into having to deal with life-changing events that the innocence of youth cannot prepare us for.  We are forced to grow up quickly.

Frank Drum is an ordinary thirteen-year-old growing up in the small town of New Bremen, Minnesota where his father is a Methodist minister.  It’s the summer, and Frank’s days are typically filled with baseball games and hanging out at the soda counter inside of Halderson’s Drugstore with his little brother, Jake.  Everyone knows everyone else’s business and life flows smoothly from day to day.  The lives of New Bremen’s residents are delicately intertwined in ways that came by the hand of fate, many hiding their deep, dark secrets behind the walls of their homes. The wealthy, influential residents remain sheltered in their well-manicured area atop the hill.  Others just seem to barely get by.  Yet on Sunday morning, they congregate at the town’s Methodist church, where Frank’s father delivers his sermon.  He’s well-respected within the community and is often called upon to help the townspeople through when hard times strike.  From the outside, Frank’s family seems idyllic, but beneath the surface lies resentment, disappointment, and living with the demons of war.  Still, life rolls slowly and uneventfully forward for all.

The summer of 1961, however, would prove to be one that brought with it “the terrible price of wisdom.”  Disobeying their parents’ wishes, Frank and his younger brother, Jake, go out walking on the railroad tracks, where only a few days earlier a tragedy occurred.  It was ruled an accident but Frank can’t let go of that annoying feeling that something about the whole thing just isn’t right.  What they accidently stumble upon changes life as they know it in an instant, setting in motion a series of events from which there is no turning back.  Frank is thrust into the world of being an adult and must learn to deal with things way beyond his thirteen-year-old maturity level.

“You might think I remember that summer as tragic and I do but not completely.  My father use to quote the Greek playwright Aeschylus.  “He who learns must suffer.  And even in our sleep pain, which cannot forget, falls drop by drop upon the heart, until, in our own despair, against our will, comes wisdom through the awful grace of God. 

In the end, maybe that’s what the summer was about…I’ve come four decades since but I’m not sure that even now I fully understand.  I still spend a lot of time thinking about the events of that summer.  About the terrible price of wisdom.  The awful grace of God.” 

The innocence of youth is not the only thing tested by that summer of 1961.  The very fabric of the Drum family threatens to unwind when tragedy strikes close to home.  His father begins to question the very thing that he’s built his life around: his faith in God.  He must reach down into the depths of his soul to find the strength he needs to carry on.  Watching his father struggle reminds Frank of a quote from the Greek playwright, Aeschylus, that his father used often:

“He who learns must suffer.  And even in our sleep pain, which cannot forget, falls drop by drop upon the heart, until, in our own despair, against our will, comes wisdom through the awful grace of God.”

In terms of language and writing style, Krueger matches these two elements perfectly with his thirteen-year-old narrator.  His style is plain and his language fairly simple, making Ordinary Grace a novel that could be enjoyed and understood by readers ranging in age from young adult to seniors.  Young adult readers would be able to relate to the inner turmoil that rages inside of Frank as he struggles to grow up.  Older readers will relate to growing up in a day and time when life was much simpler, playing outside on those endless summer days.  His settings are so vivid that it’s easy to imagine actually being there in the small town of New Bremen. 

  Krueger easy style of writing eloquently combines the setting, characters, and diction with rising conflict and elements of suspense, moving the story forward effortlessly from scene to scene from beginning to end.  Each chapter concludes with a hook, enticing the reader to turn the page to find out what happens next. His characters are realistic and believable, displaying age-appropriate emotions and personal flaws. The jump forward in time at the end of the story offers a well-planned conclusion.  Taking into account all the tragic events that unfold within the story, it’s hard to imagine how Krueger could produce some kind of meaningful ending, but he does.  Upon reading that final page, it’s hard not to be reminded that we all go through things in our lives but it’s how we choose to deal with them that defines us as a person. 

Krueger hopes to deliver more than just another “coming-of-age” story with his novel. Ordinary Grace serves a testament to what “terrible tragedy does to [a] man’s faith, his family, and ultimately the fabric of the town in which he lives.” According to Krueger, that is truly what the story is about.  Through his characters, Krueger uses Ordinary Grace as an example of the power of faith in times personal sorrow and loss.  In today’s world, where so much has turned ugly, we can all use a story that uplifts the spirit and reminds us that having faith in the face of tragedy can help us heal.  William Kent Krueger’s novel, Ordinary Grace, certainly delivers that message.

Works Cited

Krueger, William Kent. Ordinary Grace. New York: Simon and Schuster, Inc. 2014. Print.

MPR News Staff. “Twin Cities Author William Kent Krueger Wins Edgar Award.” MPR News. mprnews.org. 2 May 2014. Web. Accessed 8 September 2016. http://www.mprnews.org/story/2014/05/02/william-kent-krueger-edgar-award

AN INTERVIEW WITH THE ICONIC HARRY CONNICK SR.

I was honored to work for the amazing Mr. Paul Leslie, transcribing several of his past radio interviews with some of music's most well-known contributors.  Below is the link to the interview Paul did with the infamous Harry Connick Sr.  I hope you'll enjoy it!

http://www.thepaulleslie.com/harry-connick-sr/

Authorial Choices in the Core Storytelling Elements: Daphne Du Maurier vs. Danielle Steel

The Effect of Authorial Choices:

Narrative Structure, Diction, Syntax, Rhythm and Tone

   The choices authors make concerning their use of narrative structure, diction, syntax, rhythm and tone is typically influenced by the time period in which the author lived.  Classics, for example, will usually involve the use of complex syntax and diction while contemporary authors are usually more concise and typically informal in their diction and syntax choices.  An author’s choices in diction and syntax directly affect the way the reader experiences the worlds created.   In the classic work, Rebecca, by Daphne Du Maurier, written in 1938 and the contemporary work of Danielle Steel’s The Ghost, written in 1993, both authors used diction and syntax indicative of their times and produced very effective narrative structure, taking the reader from the introduction of the story’s conflict, up to the crisis moment and then to the conflict resolution.

     In her classic work, Rebecca, Du Maurier adopted the first person point of view to form the basis of her narrative structure: “Last night I dreamt I went to Manderley again,” (Du Maurier 1).  The reader is introduced to the more formal diction (dreamt versus dreamed) and immediately begins to form those internal questions, “What happened next?  Why did it happen this way?” (Scott 65).  Du Maurier begins to develop a very precise and effective narrative structure, taking the reader on the character’s tumultuous journey as she moves from being a shy, timid young girl to the confident, strong mistress of Manderley .  The reader is introduced to the central conflict of the story at the beginning of Chapter 2: “We can never go back again, that much is certain.  The past is too close behind us…I believe there is a theory that men and women emerge finer and stronger after suffering, and to advance in this or any world, we must endure ordeal by fire.  This we have done in full measure, ironic though it seems” (Du Maurier 5).  Du Maurier skillfully answers the questions Scott proposed as she continues to pull reader into the main character’s chaotic life, keeping the narrative perfectly balanced on a thin line between good and evil.  Du Maurier employees a pattern of suspense that resemble[s] a staircase up until the point of climax, with tension rising and falling at different stages of the story (Scott 68).  The young character arrives at Manderley, a world that it totally foreign to her, and must conquer a series of obstacles left behind by her predecessor, Rebecca, who left some very big shoes that Du Maurier’s main character must now attempt to fill.  It’s the words of Beatrice, her new husband’s sister, that haunt her throughout the majority of the storyline: “You see…you are so very different from Rebecca” (Du Maurier 105).  This statement serves to ignite the narrator’s passion to discover who Rebecca truly was.  Her quest only deepens her feelings of inadequacy.  The tension and momentum continue to rise towards the crisis moment, which presents itself after a single event occurs:  a ship runs aground in the terrible fog.  This leads to the discovery of Rebecca’s small boat resting on the bottom of the bay and to a chain reaction of events, spiraling the reader to the crisis moment: “There never was an accident.  Rebecca was not drowned at all.  I killed her.  I shot Rebecca in the cottage in the cove” (Du Maurier 266).  In a reciprocating admission, the narrator finally tells her husband of the fears that have tortured her since arriving at Manderley and his response frees her at last: “You thought I loved Rebecca?  You thought I killed her, loving her?  I hated her, I tell you” (Du Maurier 271).  In that single moment, the momentum of the story changes as the narrator’s role is shifted from an outsider to someone deeply involved in the outcome of her, and her husband’s future.  The crisis resolution unfolds quickly as the shocking truth about Rebecca comes out and Maxim de Winter is once again absolved of any wrongdoing in his wife’s death.  The story ends rather anticlimactically, with the two main characters returning to their beloved family home, only to find it in flames.

     Upon completing the reading of Rebecca, it is ironic that Du Maurier actually introduces the reader to the resolution at the very beginning of the text as the central conflict of the story.  In short, her narrative weaves through a dark world only to come full circle: “We can never go back again, that much is certain” (Du Maurier 5).

     In her novel, The Ghost, Danielle Steel builds her narrative following the literary conventions typical of her contemporary time period.  Steel’s diction is informal (even in the journals penned in the late 1700’s) and her use of syntax follows the natural patterns of thought and speech that we, as readers in today’s times, find easy to understand and quick to read.  This allows the reader to become deeply immersed in the lives of her characters, quickly expanding on the position that if empathy – the ability to see the world as others see it – is a fundamental human attribute, then the fact that creative writing exploits this attribute is what makes it, also, a unique and fundamental tool with which to make sense of the world (Scott 58).  Steel is a master of using empathy for her characters to drive the reader to follow them through to the end of the story.  She takes modern-day situations that most of us have experienced in one way or another and uses her characters to teach us (possibly) new ways of dealing with it all.

     In The Ghost, Steel introduces us to the conflict right from the start: “And now suddenly, at forty-two, he felt as though all the good times were over.  He had begun the long, slow trip down the other side of the mountain.  For the past year, he had felt as though his life was slowly and steadily unraveling” (Steel 1).  In her unique style, Steel employees rather lengthy narrative as she sets the background for the story.  She effectively tugs at the readers’ heartstrings.  The reader is introduced to the dramatic question in the first chapter when Charlie bares his soul:

     “I can’t live without you, Carole…”  He couldn’t think of a single reason these days to go on living. (Steel 19)

The dramatic question, “How will he go on living without her,” is what drives the narrative with the particular nature of the obstacle and how it is overcome (or not) [being] a key feature of the genre (Scott 63).  In the main character’s search to find a way to move forward, he meets several people who have a tremendous, positive impact on him with perhaps the ghost of Sarah Ferguson topping that list (hence the title, The Ghost).  It is through reading Sarah’s journals of her life back in the late 1700’s, following her lifelong tale of bravery and fearlessness as she learns to live again after escaping a brutal past, that drives Charlie to the realization that he cannot follow her example on his own.  This sudden realization brings Charlie (and the reader) to the crisis moment and he finally reaches out to someone he knows has her own tragic story:

     “And without thinking, he got out of the car and ran after her” (Steel 296).  “Wait!” he shouted as he came up two steps behind her.  “I need to talk to you…I need to talk to someone…” He flung his arms around in despair, as though he were thrashing, and she could see suddenly that he was close to crying” (Steel 298).  

     The resolution quickly follows with both characters understanding that one can truly come out of a tragic situation and learn to live again.  It is that lesson, in my opinion, that is Steel’s true message to us all.  The reader walks away, feeling satisfied and hopefully carrying Steel’s meaning with them.

     Danielle Steel has always been one of my favorite authors but when comparing her contemporary work with the classic work of Du Maurier, I was left feeling that one hundred years from now, Steel’s work will not be considered as classic.  I will put away Steel’s book, saying, “That was nice,” but Du Maurier’s piece will stay in my mind for a long time to come.  Her use of diction, syntax, rhythm and tone in her narrative structure all contributed to Rebecca being placed on the classics list and one that will be read many times in the years to come.

 

 

 

Works Cited

Du Maurier, Daphne. Rebbeca. Avon Books: HarperCollins Publishing. New York. 1971. Print.

Scott; Jeremy. Creative Writing and Stylistics. Palgrave Macmillian. UK. 2013. Print.

Steel, Danielle. The Ghost. Dell Publishing: Random House. New York. 1997. Print.