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Literature Close Analysis Essay Submission Feedback Thread.

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DJA:

--- Quote from: maddimarvel on November 15, 2013, 06:44:01 pm ---You are talented! If I could write like this in year 11 I would be super happy. You should see some of the people who were in my class, they thought they could turn it into an english essay (lets not go there...).

Try move away from the thesaurus, stick with simplicity to develop ideas rather than trying to sound articulate. I'm sure your more basic essays would be a lot more cohesive (not sure if that's the word I'm looking for tbh).

More of what Shakespeare was doing, how does he do it and why? Syntactical construction- how does Shakespeare construct this etc. Be subtle but not too subtle! It's the impossible (yet possible) balance :P

Also- last thing, do you think you could write this in an hour from three passages? My teacher always asked me that, got me thinking and really condensed my essays. Otherwise, it's getting there! Great essay. Nothing to worry about for next year. NOW REST YOUR BRAIN FOR YEAR 12!!  ;)

--- End quote ---

Thanks for the comments in the essay and the advice. It is greatly appreciated.  ;D Especially considering  I have my 1/2 Literature exam in like 5 days time--Very Nervous!! We are doing two passage analysis essays-one on Hamlet and one on Tobias Wolff's short story collection.

Yep-I definitely can't write as much in exam time. Will have to cut down. Thanks for the reminder.

Syntactical construction has always been a bit of a sore point for me. I think I'll sit down and check out these in the play again-iambic pentameter, rhythm flow and all that. I'll try and remember to incorporate it in the exam :) haha

cute:
This is my first Close Analysis on The Tempest, hopefully I'm able to get some feedback :)

I know it's way too short, I'm getting there :P

SpoilerThe Tempest – William Shakespeare

Act I, Scene II – Lines 88 – 132
Act III, Scene II – Lines 41 – 73
Act III, Scene III – Lines 57 – 90

The use of religious language in Passages One and Three explores Prospero’s tyrannical rule of the island on a non-physical level. In Passage One, Shakespeare’s depiction of Antonio as a ‘sinner of his memory’ illustrates the relationship between Prospero and his brother and Prospero’s view of himself as a superhuman being and, perhaps, how he expects Miranda to perceive him. Through Prospero’s further description of Antonio’s ‘evil nature’, Shakespeare condemns Antonio’s usurping of the throne during ‘the bettering of [Prospero’s] mind’. This encompasses Shakespeare’s inherent appreciation for knowledge which presents itself in all three passages. This appreciation is further explored during Prospero’s proclamation that ‘his library [is] dukedom large enough’. Although his title has been revoked, he still remains ruler of his own library, his own powers and, by extension, the island that said powers allow him to control.

The personification and capitalisation of the fatalistic elements ‘Destiny’ and ‘Fate’ introduce the ideal of determinism, conducted through a higher power who, in Passage Three, is named as Prospero. Ariel’s characterisation embeds Shakespeare’s view of Prospero as an almighty master of the island, just as the playwright himself. Ariel’s comedic use of the phrase ‘Thou liest’ further establishes the elaborate intricacies of Prospero’s plotted revenge. This portrays a profound understanding of Ariel’s blatant loyalty toward Prospero. Although Caliban insists that Prospero ‘cheated [him] of the island’, Ariel seemingly does not. This illuminates the contrasting pasts Ariel and Caliban have experienced. Shakespeare uses the backstories of these characters to queston the fatalistic connotations of The Tempest through the abusive manipulation of Ariel despite his strong connection to Prospero.

Through his use of sword-related puns, Shakespeare draws attention to the stage direction ‘ALONSO, SEBASTIAN & c. draw their swords’ which establishes the scene’s characters as unnecessarily violent. Ariel’s portrayal as a harpy undermines authority by showing that Alonso and Sebastian can only respond to perceived threats with violence. While Shakespeare often shows Caliban to be the violently bestial and instinctual one, his repetition of the title ‘lord’ in the second passage shows how his intelligence is far more substantial than Prospero assumed. By referring to Stephano as ‘My lord’, Caliban appeals to the sense of power that he truly craves while subverting Prospero’s assumptions in order to seek revenge for the abuse he has experienced throughout Prospero’s reign. Through the use of complimentary language, Caliban proves to be more sly and clever than his ‘valiant master’.

Through her acknowledgement that ‘Good wombs have borne bad sons’, Miranda shows a disregard for the social significance of familial inheritance and genetic bloodline. While Miranda does state that she thinks ‘nobly of her grandmother’, Shakespeare uses this to express Miranda’s lack of social and cultural exposure. Prospero failed to educate Miranda in this manner, seemingly due to his brother’s actions ‘in lieu o’ the premises of homage’. The unconventional nature of familial relationships in The Tempest reflects its unconventional setting.

That Other Guy:
Hi, all. This is my close analysis essay on Gwen Harwood's poetry - in particular, the poems 'Suburban Sonnet' and 'In the Park'. (At this point, we are only linking two passages.)
I would appreciate some feedback!

Oscillating between the zeniths of one’s past and the nadirs of the present, Suburban Sonnet and In the Park illuminate the melancholic circumstances of motherhood, revealing through changes of time how liberty has become repressed. However, amidst this existential dystopia, Harwood demonstrates that there exist moments wherein the manacles of creative numbness loosen and the interior may come to flourish. 

Within the staccato “She sits in the park” and “Her clothes are out of date”, mother’s exemption from society’s progressions and the dismal entrapment of isolation is envisioned. Harwood attributes motherhood to the fulfillment of an expiry date here, relegating it as a state of stagnation and decay. Conversely, in one regard, the ephemeral moment of inspiration in “Tasty dishes from stale bread” in Suburban Sonnet insinuates the moments of hope and fulfillment that reside amidst motherhood’s monotony. However, on another level, this also advances that motherhood does not entirely oppress hope, but rather accentuates previously ignored mediums through which hope and personal expression can bloom. Hence, despite the implicit encumbrances of maternity, Harwood reasons that one can subvert these fetters and exploit their ills to produce something ironically desirable.

Akin to the mother’s increasing irrelevance within society referenced within In the Park, the indolent “yawned” coupled with the soft “caper” divulges the impotency of one’s efforts made within motherhood’s parameters; however, such is also applicable beyond the sphere of domesticity. It becomes elucidated in In the Park through the feigned pleasantness of “‘How nice,’ etcetera” the inherent hollowness of society which negates the mother’s endeavours to achieve societal distinction. The forced facades of apathy within “It’s so sweet to hear them chatter” further mark the disingenuousness which women have become inclined to assume, hence diluting their attempts to transcend their subjugation and be intrinsically free.

The hyperbolic “They have eaten me alive” in In the Park reveals the irony in the mother’s simultaneous destruction and gesture of love, exposing the duality of motherhood’s ramifications. Here, Harwood explicates that within the realms of maternity, one cannot prefer the heights of joy or the depths of regret, but rather, must experience the poles of these emotions simultaneously. Such reasoning is complemented with the tender “She hushes them”, swiftly undercut by the frantic “she rushes to the stove / too late”, which reveals that ignoring the industrious aspect of motherhood only wreaks pandemonium and upsets balance within the family. The lack of reciprocation of the mother’s loving gestures in Suburban Sonnet is envisaged within “drain out with soapy water” and the subsequent “Her veins ache”, unveiling the emotional turmoil that arises from the obligations of motherhood coupled with the isolation of patriarchal oppression.

With the acute ‘s’ sounds commanding “she scours” tumbling into the harsh reality of “crusted milk”, Harwood reveals that the exterior banalities of maternity are doubly bleak interiorly. Harwood marks within “a pot boils over” and the link between “subject and counter-subject” that the dissatisfactions of motherhood extend beyond the cyclic tedium of house work, rather manifesting within the ineffectuality of the mother’s efforts made to transcend the dreariness of her role. The sickness experienced by the mother is, on one level, an insinuation of ‘morning sickness’; however, Harwood takes care to suggest that it may also arise from the mother’s acquiescence to the hopelessness of her condition. This manifestation of the mother’s interior turmoil points to the vastness of her disappointment. Such is illustrated within the discontent of “Once she played for Rubenstein, who yawned”, juxtaposed with “though it can matter to no one now if she plays well or not”; here, the mother’s attempt to build upon the displeasures of her past cascade in “a wave of nausea” as its futility becomes realised. The insensate “sits staring at her feet” in In the Park evokes this sense of disillusionment and ineffectuality again within the alliteration of “’sits staring”, complemented by the finality of “departing smile”. The superficiality of society’s gestures has hence catalysed the mother’s despair, impelling to direct her despair “To the wind”. Harwood explains here the need for an existence beyond the confines of empiricism to comprehend one’s condition, and thus somewhat allay motherhood’s constricted physical liberties. In this sense, the wind offers the objectivity of nature, completely detached from the judgement of society; while the mother has sought solace elsewhere, “his departing smile” illuminates society’s apathy that consequently prevents her from attaining it. Her state of segregation in society has disposed her to become increasingly dependent on the wind to channel her despondency and hence expound her own reality. 

The wistful “Someone she loved passed by” in In the Park brings to the fore the ambrosial fragments of the past, which are inevitably undercut by the abrupt “too late”. The enjambment of “A pot boils over / too late” evokes a similar sentiment through its precipice-like volatility. Within this, it is indicated that while the past and its enticements are alluring, the irreversible circumstances of motherhood render any attempt to retrieve these lost pleasantries redundant, for they are mired within the present’s unpredictability. Similarly, the terse yet lethargic “She comforts them” unveils the state of impotence that has beset the mother as the trappings of the past dilute her efforts in the present. Such a notion is invoked in “They stand a while in the flickering light, rehearsing” in In the Park, as the inherent boredom suggests that the confrontation of the past has done little to resuscitate the vivacity of this lost time. In one aspect, the past’s penetration of the present has become sullied by the tainted lens of the mother’s present circumstances. However, it can also be suggested that motherhood’s inertia fundamentally petrifies women in a state of societal abstraction, having come to exist solely within the cyclic “children chatter, / then scream and fight”. These notions, referenced throughout In the Park, exemplify maternity’s finality; the mother’s present and past may no longer interact, rather only to be remembered through the threads of her being that remain between them.

KyleBroder:
Would appreciate some feedback on this close analysis relating to Shakespeare's 'the Tempest'. I have only recently started close analyses and am yet to cover it in class. The passages were from the 2013 VCAA exam. Thanks in advance.

Passage Analysis - The Tempest

Throughout 'the Tempest' there are fervent power struggles between the characters, due to both class, and gender. Shakespeare's use of Prospero's blunt tone as he commands his daughter to "cease more questions" helps establish and expose man's supposedly inherrent dominance over women, and show the inevitable consequences that arise from gender inequality. Furthermore, the act of the tempest itself, overturns the social hierarchy and "supplants" what it means to be of a certain class.

Knowledge plays arguably, the most integral role in the social hierarchy, with Prospero being at the apex due to his staff and books. He is aware that his "zenith doth depend upon" his knowledge exceeding that of others. Through Shakespeare's use of "prescience" it is overtly stated that such is "A most auspicious star, whose influence if now I court not, but omit, my fortunes will ever after droop". Hence, women are given no oppurtunity of education for "thou canst not choose", they are forced to silence the "beating" in their "mind".

Shakespeare critiques the views held toward an educated woman in his time through the characterisation of Sycorax. An educated woman, a woman in power, "a witch, and one so strong that could control the moon, make flows and ebbs, and deal in her command without her power". Something of such a horrifying nature that engaged in sexual relations with the devil, and produced Caliban, a "demi-devil", a "thing of darkness" "not fit for human form". However still, Prospero, and therefore man is still able to dominate over the opposing gender, the staff, a phallic symbol, establishes the link between the source of power and who is to have the power.

In 'the Tempest', however, who is to have the power falls victim to "conscience", or lack of. Violent power struggles are seen through the characters of Sebastian and Antonio as they each strive for greater control. Through "open-eyed conspiracy" and the drawing of "thy sword", Shakespeare exposes the brutal "precedent" that determines who "got'st Milan". It is clear that Shakespeare is challenging the dichotomisation of power, for "if of life you keep a care, shake off slumber and beware. Awake, awake!"

drmockingbird:
Would really love some feedback on this passage analysis on Jane Eyre :)

Jane Eyre’s " long(ing) to surmount " the chains of social subjugation imbues Passage One with a claustrophobic, repressed quality. Charlotte Brontë’s hypotactic narration, evidenced by the heavy use of subordinate clauses throughout each passage, brings the reader itself into Jane’s metacognition - the burdened, laborious construction of sentences accurately reflecting the intricacies and complexities of Jane’s thought. The author augments this process with the heavy use of first-person, reflexive action - " I imagined myself to be", " I believed I was " - petitioning her reader not to regard Jane as the distant, detached voyeur would, but to see  Jane as she regards herself. This stylistic mechanism, which ultimately renders the reader more likely to sympathise with the developing Jane, is mirrored again in the opening of Passage Three, albeit to a greater extent, as Jane breaks the fourth wall by directly addressing the " Reader ".

Engaging us in such a manner, Brontë then utilises phrases such as " exile limits ", " disciplined " and "boundary of rock and heath " portraying Jane’s institutionalization at Lowood as equivalent to mental confinement; this picture is compounded when she herself describes her thoughts as " inmates " of her mind, and her surroundings as " prison-ground(s)".  Jane’s pleading soliloquy incites the reader’s " wonderment " - we empathise with Brontë’s protagonist as she laments the loss of her " tranquility ", reminisce earlier memories of the text as she mentions " descending " into Lowood and Mrs.Reed’s continuing hostility towards her, and, as she describes her " school-rules, school duties, school habits, and notions, and voices, and… antipathies ", feel that her " half-desperate " cry for a "new servitude " is wholly warranted. The drudgery inherent in Jane’s routine is, in the latter example, brought into sharp relief by Brontë’s anaphoric juxtaposition of asyndeton and polysyndeton -  both the use, and lack of, conjunctions emphasising the repetitive mundanity of her situation. Essentially, the voice the reader hears in this Passage is that of a perfervid, impassioned Jane - a Jane in her " natural element ", a Jane of " sensations and excitements ", whose actions are motivated solely by the force of her agency.

Passage Two, on the other hand, presents a starkly different picture. From the outset, Brontë establishes clearly that Jane’s thoughts are now arrested by an external entity - the imperatives in " come to me -- come to me entirely now " and " Make my happiness "  suggest that Rochester’s love envelops rather than empowers Jane. The same Jane who once protested against John Reed being called her " master " now refers by that same appellation Mr.Rochester, - " I could scarcely see my master’s face as it was " - an action directly antithetical to those of the fiercely independent Jane we encountered in Passage One. Brontë’s heroine elevates Rochester to a Godlike pedestal - this apotheosis is reflected in the religious lexis throughout the passage such as " pardon " , " my Maker ", " tribunal " and " sanctions ". In these passages, religious imagery also plays the important role of foreboding Rochester’s bigamous nature. Rochester speaks of his actions as if he is justifiying them; the author attempts to pique the reader’s suspicion with phrases such as " expiate " and " atone ", which connotate that there is, de facto, a sin or misdemeanour to atone for. The reader may even construe Rochester’s speech herein to be arrogant - we wonder why his embracing of Jane in the " friendless, cold, comfortless " state he claims to have found her " wash(es) his hands " of his treatment of Bertha, or whether, indeed, he receives the " sanction " of the Divine in this endeavour.

Jane believes her relationship with Rochester is transcendental, a " paradise of union ",  while Brontë seems to endorse a ‘mythic’ interpretation of this exchange - the pathetic fallacy of the chestnut tree cracking  foreshadows the fact that Jane and Rochester’s communion will ‘writh’, ‘groan’ and ‘crash’, just as their environment does. Try as the lovers might to " defy (man’s opinion) ", to surpass the metaphysical barrier of human love and have their affair " meddle(d) not " with at the hands of " man " but " expiate(d) " at the tribunal of " God ", adjectives such as " pale " and "grave " remind the reader that their bond is essentially susceptible to the same vulnerabilities and shortcoming any other human relationship - the passing of time, the " grave " of death itself. 

This notion is referenced again -  near the denouement of the text in Passage Three, the maturity of their second union is demonstrated insofar as Rochester recognises the fact that their relationship will eventually fade - " over your grave or mine ". This maturity also extends into Jane - retaining the individualistic drive that characterised Passage One, she remarks " Reader, I married him ",  clearly indicating that she initiated the marriage out of her own accord - waiting neither for the permit of Moor House or Cambridge; Diana and Mary’s approval is ex post facto, Brontë’s positioning of this sentence near the close of this passage clearly outlining that their acquiescence had no bearing on Jane’s " thus act(ing) ".

The extravagance and flamboyance of the past is replaced in this renewed conjugation of Jane and Rochester by the " humbler supplication " of realism, the  " phlegmatic " realisation that a " remarkable" union does not require the " shrill ejaculation " of " worldly wonderment ", but rather internal reconciliation and mutual trust. It is of no surprise, therefore, that Brontë’s language in this paragraph is supporting of her heroine - its simplicity reflecting the sobriety of Jane’s thoughts. The text here is vernacular - exhibiting the non-standard dialect of John and Mary in " she’s noan faal and verry good natured ", the author suggests that Jane has come to recognise the minute, unornamented pleasures of life -  common activities such as " basting...chickens ", "cooking the dinner ", " cleaning " and " polishing " the knives - the latter of these particularly significant as it signifies the purification of Jane through the hermetic, crucible-like nature of her ordeals. The use of the modal " did " in " Mary did look up, and she did stare at me, and the ladle...did for some three minutes " dons this section of the text a verisimilitude; the emphasis on the completeness of the action giving the language clarity and succinctness.

The coda of the passage seems to suggest that just as Jane Eyre’s two protagonists are entrenched in reality, they are yet simultaneously connected by the same " abundant flow " of bliss that bound them to each-other at Thornfield; their love may not be eternal, but will " shine their life long ", it may not be "sanction(ed) " by their Maker, but will exist in the " sanctum " of human companionship.


(passages in spoiler)
Thanks!

Spoiler
Passage One

From the day she left I was no longer the same: with her was gone every settled feeling, every association that had made Lowood in some degree a home to me. I had imbibed from her something of her nature and much of her habits: more harmonious thoughts: what seemed better regulated feelings had become the inmates of my mind. I had given in allegiance to duty and order; I was quiet; I believed I was content: to the eyes of others, usually even to my own, I appeared a disciplined and subdued character.

But destiny, in the shape of the Rev. Mr. Nasmyth, came between me and Miss Temple: I saw her in her travelling dress step into a post-chaise, shortly after the marriage ceremony; I watched the chaise mount the hill and disappear beyond its brow; and then retired to my own room, and there spent in solitude the greatest part of the half-holiday granted in honour of the occasion.

I walked about the chamber most of the time. I imagined myself only to be regretting my loss, and thinking how to repair it; but when my reflections were concluded, and I looked up and found that the afternoon was gone, and evening far advanced, another discovery dawned on me, namely, that in the interval I had undergone a transforming process; that my mind had put off all it had borrowed of Miss Temple--or rather that she had taken with her the serene atmosphere I had been breathing in her vicinity--and that now I was left in my natural element, and beginning to feel the stirring of old emotions. It did not seem as if a prop were withdrawn, but rather as if a motive were gone: it was not the power to be tranquil which had failed me, but the reason for tranquillity was no more. My world had for some years been in Lowood: my experience had been of its rules and systems; now I remembered that the real world was wide, and that a varied field of hopes and fears, of sensations and excitements, awaited those who had courage to go forth into its expanse, to seek real knowledge of life amidst its perils.

I went to my window, opened it, and looked out. There were the two wings of the building; there was the garden; there were the skirts of Lowood; there was the hilly horizon. My eye passed all other objects to rest on those most remote, the blue peaks; it was those I longed to surmount; all within their boundary of rock and heath seemed prison-ground, exile limits. I traced the white road winding round the base of one mountain, and vanishing in a gorge between two; how I longed to follow it farther! I recalled the time when I had travelled that very road in a coach; I remembered descending that hill at twilight; an age seemed to have elapsed since the day which brought me first to Lowood, and I had never quitted it since. My vacations had all been spent at school: Mrs. Reed had never sent for me to Gateshead; neither she nor any of her family had ever been to visit me. I had had no communication by letter or message with the outer world: school-rules, school-duties, school-habits and notions, and voices, and faces, and phrases, and costumes, and preferences, and antipathies--such was what I knew of existence. And now I felt that it was not enough; I tired of the routine of eight years in one afternoon. I desired liberty; for liberty I gasped; for liberty I uttered a prayer; it seemed scattered on the wind then faintly blowing. I abandoned it and framed a humbler supplication; for change, stimulus: that petition, too, seemed swept off into vague space: "Then," I cried, half desperate, "grant me at least a new servitude!"

Passage Two

"Come to me--come to me entirely now," said he; and added, in his deepest tone, speaking in my ear as his cheek was laid on mine, "Make my happiness--I will make yours."
"God pardon me!" he subjoined ere long; "and man meddle not with me: I have her, and will hold her."
"There is no one to meddle, sir. I have no kindred to interfere."
"No--that is the best of it," he said. And if I had loved him less I should have thought his accent and look of exultation savage; but, sitting by him, roused from the nightmare of parting--called to the paradise of union--I thought only of the bliss given me to drink in so abundant a flow. Again and again he said, "Are you happy, Jane?" And again and again I answered, "Yes." After which he murmured, "It will atone--it will atone. Have I not found her friendless, and cold, and comfortless? Will I not guard, and cherish, and solace her? Is there not love in my heart, and constancy in my resolves? It will expiate at God's tribunal. I know my Maker sanctions what I do. For the world's judgment--I wash my hands thereof. For man's opinion--I defy it."
But what had befallen the night? The moon was not yet set, and we were all in shadow: I could scarcely see my master's face, near as I was. And what ailed the chestnut tree? it writhed and groaned; while wind roared in the laurel walk, and came sweeping over us.
"We must go in," said Mr. Rochester: "the weather changes. I could have sat with thee till morning, Jane."
"And so," thought I, "could I with you." I should have said so, perhaps, but a livid, vivid spark leapt out of a cloud at which I was looking, and there was a crack, a crash, and a close rattling peal; and I thought only of hiding my dazzled eyes against Mr. Rochester's shoulder.
The rain rushed down. He hurried me up the walk, through the grounds, and into the house; but we were quite wet before we could pass the threshold. He was taking off my shawl in the hall, and shaking the water out of my loosened hair, when Mrs. Fairfax emerged from her room. I did not observe her at first, nor did Mr. Rochester. The lamp was lit. The clock was on the stroke of twelve.
"Hasten to take off your wet things," said he; "and before you go, good-night--good-night, my darling!"
He kissed me repeatedly. When I looked up, on leaving his arms, there stood the widow, pale, grave, and amazed.

Passage Three

Reader, I married him. A quiet wedding we had: he and I, the parson and clerk, were alone present. When we got back from church, I went into the kitchen of the manor-house, where Mary was cooking the dinner and John cleaning the knives, and I said -
"Mary, I have been married to Mr. Rochester this morning." The housekeeper and her husband were both of that decent phlegmatic order of people, to whom one may at any time safely communicate a remarkable piece of news without incurring the danger of having one's ears pierced by some shrill ejaculation, and subsequently stunned by a torrent of wordy wonderment. Mary did look up, and she did stare at me: the ladle with which she was basting a pair of chickens roasting at the fire, did for some three minutes hang suspended in air; and for the same space of time John's knives also had rest from the polishing process: but Mary, bending again over the roast, said only -
"Have you, Miss? Well, for sure!"
A short time after she pursued--"I seed you go out with the master, but I didn't know you were gone to church to be wed;" and she basted away. John, when I turned to him, was grinning from ear to ear.
"I telled Mary how it would be," he said: "I knew what Mr. Edward" (John was an old servant, and had known his master when he was the cadet of the house, therefore, he often gave him his Christian name)--"I knew what Mr. Edward would do; and I was certain he would not wait long neither: and he's done right, for aught I know. I wish you joy, Miss!" and he politely pulled his forelock.
"Thank you, John. Mr. Rochester told me to give you and Mary this." I put into his hand a five-pound note. Without waiting to hear more, I left the kitchen. In passing the door of that sanctum some time after, I caught the words -
"She'll happen do better for him nor ony o't' grand ladies." And again, "If she ben't one o' th' handsomest, she's noan faal and varry good-natured; and i' his een she's fair beautiful, onybody may see that."
I wrote to Moor House and to Cambridge immediately, to say what I had done: fully explaining also why I had thus acted. Diana and Mary approved the step unreservedly. Diana announced that she would just give me time to get over the honeymoon, and then she would come and see me.
"She had better not wait till then, Jane," said Mr. Rochester, when I read her letter to him; "if she does, she will be too late, for our honeymoon will shine our life long: its beams will only fade over your grave or mine."

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