Sample Literature Essays

[Readinya]

Hi guys,

I'm doing VCE Lit Yr 12 this year, despite being only in Yr 11, and this will count as my english component (no english next year!)

Basically, i don't think i'm going too well since my essays are still very generalised, English-styled responses. I was hoping if anyone would like to put up some sample lit essays (any text) so that i can get some ideas? With the exams looming, i'm freaking out and any samples would be greatly appreciated.

For the exam, I've chosen to do Philip Larkin's Poetry and either Chekhov's Short Stories or the play 'The Freedom of the City'. If anyone has any ideas about these texts, or specific tips about how to write on poetry/short stories/plays, please post!

[Russ]

I have mine, but I cringe when I read them (they're from 2007)
If nobody else has any samples, I'll PM them to you.

[saaaaaam]

Ohh, I'm doing Philip Larkin's poetry as well. I get a bit lost when writing about his poems. How do you feel about Larkin?

[EvangelionZeta]

Essay based on Hamlet

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Passage One encapsulates the state of Denmark, centralising Claudius and his plots in order to illuminate the uncertainty prevalent throughout the entirety of Hamlet.  Unlike the decisive Hamlet presented in Passage Three, the characters here are all depicted as speculative; language of observation and theorising is prevalent, with phrases like “to gather/So much as from occasion you may glean” emphasising Claudius’ desire to understand the cause for Hamlet’s mood, and by extension, the truth.  Hypothesising is also present within the Queen’s words, “I doubt it is no other but the main” indicating again that the characters present are in search of knowledge beyond the scope of the immediate reality.  Across the play as a whole, Shakespeare is hence constructing within this scene the ambiguity of Elsinore as a locality, allowing the audience to see that the world of Hamlet is one where fact is anything but accessible to the populace at large.

Alongside the establishment of uncertainty however, the inhabitants of Elsinore are further depicted as misguided in their struggles with the nature of Hamlet’s insanity.  Polonius’ line “I hold my duty, as I hold my soul…that I have found/The very cause of Hamlet’s lunacy” is laced with irony, indicating not only ignorance but also complete misinterpretation of actuality.  Similarly, Guildenstern’s uttering “Heavens make [us]/Pleasant and helpful to him” reveals an inability to read the truth of the situation – that Hamlet is being tormented by metaphysical forces.  Shakespeare thus is prefiguring that, within the scenes to come, Rosencrantz and Guildenstern’s presences will be anything but pleasurable to Hamlet; within this, the audience realises that the pair, along with Polonius, are completely oblivious to the inner workings of reality.  As will be seen in Passage Two, this fact may lead only to folly, placing humanity as wandering aimlessly in the grander scheme of Hamlet as a whole.

With this in mind, Passage One is essentially elaborating upon the inconceivable nature of the universe itself.  In constructing Denmark, Shakespeare is careful to ensure that no character is subject to the entirety of the truth in its entirety; from the hapless Rosencrantz and Guildenstern to the maliciously plotting Claudius, the mystery which Hamlet represents will never be uncovered to the populace at large, forever remaining something that mere mortals “cannot dream of”.  Humanity, Shakespeare suggests, is thus misguided in its attempting to discern truth from empirical discovery, just as Polonius is foolish in his supposed finding of “The head and source” of Hamlet’s behaviour.  From merely observing and surveying, as the court of Elsinore does, the essence of reality will never be uncovered, and it is this very fact which condemns Denmark – and the human world as a whole- as a putrid and unweeded garden.  
  
Like Passage One, Passage Two exemplifies the corruption, with the figure of Hamlet himself being integral to Shakespeare’s condemnation of Denmark’s court.  Contrasting images of purity and defilement in “Such an act…Calls virtue hypocrite” and “Heaven’s face doth glow” indicates the extent of Gertrude’s folly, casting her marriage as undermining holy order within the scheme of her world.  Similarly, use of divine imagery in “An eye like Mars…A station like the herald Mercury” is juxtaposed against the baseness of “a mildewed ear”; Shakespeare is hence establishing not only a fall from grandeur into darkness, but also an inversion of the Renaissance Chain of Being, with Denmark’s once resplendent spirit – Old Hamlet - being replaced by the presence of a physically lustful King.  The audience thus understands that the world Hamlet is rebelling against is one which denies the metaphysical, indulging instead in confusion and spiritual deprivation.  

Simultaneously, the death of Polonius works to signify the abhorrent horror which Denmark now represents.  Excessive condemnation is rife in Hamlet’s calling Polonius a “wretched, rash, intruding fool”, and the audience understands that in his quietus, Polonius will find no kind eulogy; Hamlet’s words mark Polonius for exactly what he is – an immoral spy, whose death is accompanied by only insults.  In spite of Polonius’ actions being more villainous, however, Hamlet himself is not exempt from the audience’s disdain: Gertrude’s disgust expressed within “What have I done, that thou dar’st wag thy tongue/In noise so rude?” is an emotion expressly highlighted by Shakespeare, who, in depicting Hamlet’s berating of Gertrude, is crafting the very image of a disorderly prince, defying the natural order of familial relations.  Denmark is thus, in the more global context of Hamlet, a prison of degradation, slowly distilling its inhabitants into filth.  

What Passage Two emphasises then is that Hamlet is immersed in the darkness of his surroundings, in effect emblematic of a humanity caught in a world which is in itself “proof and bulwark against sense”.  From spontaneous murders to unholy acts of matrimony, the court of Denmark is one rife with sin, devoid of spiritual splendour and reduced to the baseness of physical defilement.  The audience understands from this that without the grander surroundings present in Passage Three, Hamlet can only be “thought-sick”, disgusted and yet  simultaneously corrupted by the poisonous land in which Claudius now reigns; Shakespeare is hence signifying the state of mankind as a whole, which cannot help but weaken in the shackles of an environment as dark as Denmark’s.  The implication thus: in existing in the state of an external reality, there is no sanctuary, and no light to be found.  Instead, the universe is a cesspool of immorality, a landscape as unnatural as the marriage between Claudius and Gertrude.  

In contrast to the bleakness of Passage One and Passage Two, Passage Three presents a transition for Hamlet and transcendence from his past confines.  Notably, reconciling with magnitude and scale is prevalent within Hamlet’s dialogue, with mentions of “Examples, gross as earth” and “twenty thousand men” being emblematic of the wider reality of which Hamlet was previously deprived; here, Shakespeare is constructing Hamlet as having broken from the boundaries of Denmark, a process which has resulted in his new, epiphany-like understanding.  Moreover, the language of the metaphysical in “To all that fortune, death, and danger dare” works to compliment with the new world Hamlet is acknowledging; the audience recognises that beyond the corruption in Elsinore, the external physicality of reality brings with it a renewed intellectual interest, and with his new conviction for action, Hamlet is finally ready to confront the deeper truths of his universe.  

In spite of this, however, it is clear throughout that Hamlet is still unable to leave the solace which his mind provides.  This is made apparent within Hamlet’s continual questioning, with “What is a man/If his chief good…Be but to sleep feed” and “How stand I then…And let all sleep” echoing Hamlet’s previous queries about the nature of his existence.  More significant, however, is the construction of the scene itself: rather than act, the Hamlet witnessed on-stage is still pondering about his inactivity, an irony the audience is all too keen to realise.  Coupled with the futility expressed in Fortinbras’ march being “for an egg shell”, Shakespeare is thus establishing that Hamlet is still reluctant to pursue absolute action, meaning that there is yet merit to be found in the preoccupation with thought and the exploration of the metaphysical which has been exemplified throughout Hamlet as a whole.  

Rather than channel energies into the purely physical then, Passage Three is suggesting an amalgamation between mind and matter as being the basis for wonder in human existence.  Hamlet’s paradoxical exclamation “My thoughts be bloody” suggests neither a keen indulgence in thinking nor a reckless abandon to arms; instead, transcendence is brought about through acknowledging the merits of both “capability and godlike reason” within the universe.  Freed from his prison of Denmark, and no longer relying on the sanctuary of his internalised thoughts, the Hamlet constructed by Shakespeare is now apotheosised, ready to confront the fate which awaits him in the silence of the play’s denouement: the audience thus acknowledges that, like Hamlet, humanity must reconcile the physical and the metaphysical, for it is only with understanding of both that the zenith of reality may manifest in its absolute majesty.  

[Readinya]

^ Wow! that vocab of yours - magnifique! EvangelionZeta, did you write that up in an hour?? That's crazy long - 1300 words. I can hardly manage three pages of moderate-sized writing in two hours! I can tell that you have subtly incorporated your own interpretation into the analysis of the text - something that i didn't really understand until about two weeks ago~

Which texts are you guys doing?

Ohh, I'm doing Philip Larkin's poetry as well. I get a bit lost when writing about his poems. How do you feel about Larkin?

Larkin - I feel as if he doesn't use very lyrical language, but if he does, he uses it for love. I wouldn't say that he was ultra emo-ish either: although he does talk about death almost in all his poems, it's from an objective, distanced speaker (The Explosion; Ambulances) and highlights more about the inevitability of death and the futility in fighting it. That said, though, he isn't ultra-optimistic either about life: he understands that it is an "uncaring, intricate rented world" - one in which every individual is isolated by each other's ignorance and indifference.  Or something like that.

[EvangelionZeta]

^ Wow! that vocab of yours - magnifique! EvangelionZeta, did you write that up in an hour?? That's crazy long - 1300 words. I can hardly manage three pages of moderate-sized writing in two hours! I can tell that you have subtly incorporated your own interpretation into the analysis of the text - something that i didn't really understand until about two weeks ago~

Which texts are you guys doing?

Ohh, I'm doing Philip Larkin's poetry as well. I get a bit lost when writing about his poems. How do you feel about Larkin?

Larkin - I feel as if he doesn't use very lyrical language, but if he does, he uses it for love. I wouldn't say that he was ultra emo-ish either: although he does talk about death almost in all his poems, it's from an objective, distanced speaker (The Explosion; Ambulances) and highlights more about the inevitability of death and the futility in fighting it. That said, though, he isn't ultra-optimistic either about life: he understands that it is an "uncaring, intricate rented world" - one in which every individual is isolated by each other's ignorance and indifference.  Or something like that.

Did that by computer earlier in the year, but I've produced pieces of the same length in 60 minutes.  It's just practice though.

We're doing Hamlet and Emma.  :p

[Readinya]

Yeah, my school's Text B choices were: Emma, Chekhov's short stories; Friel's play "The Freedom of the City"; and Larkin's poetry.

Ruled out Emma though because it's too long

[saaaaaam]

Ohh, I'm doing Philip Larkin's poetry as well. I get a bit lost when writing about his poems. How do you feel about Larkin?

Larkin - I feel as if he doesn't use very lyrical language, but if he does, he uses it for love. I wouldn't say that he was ultra emo-ish either: although he does talk about death almost in all his poems, it's from an objective, distanced speaker (The Explosion; Ambulances) and highlights more about the inevitability of death and the futility in fighting it. That said, though, he isn't ultra-optimistic either about life: he understands that it is an "uncaring, intricate rented world" - one in which every individual is isolated by each other's ignorance and indifference.  Or something like that.

Yeah, my class were watching some interviews Larkin had done (I think they're on youtube if you want to see them) and he didn't seem anything like the doom and gloom sort of person he's made out to be. I think I'd just call him a realist. He is able to say all those ugly truths that everyone else would rather ignore.

[Readinya]

I have mine, but I cringe when I read them (they're from 2007)
If nobody else has any samples, I'll PM them to you.

@Russ: If you wouldn't mind, could maybe you post a few of your essays up? You know, for other students to benefit as well ^_^ But if you're uncomfortable, that's ok too.

[Russ]

Like I said, I was pretty young when I wrote these, these days I'm capable of better structure and more analysis over summary. Be nice . Looking back I can see a lot of stuff I'd do differently today.
I'd post some of my stuff from this semester (since I'm studying chekhov) but I have to run it through turnitin, so I don't want to get pinged for plagiarism accidentally.

Wuthering Heights - Emily Bronte

Wuthering Heights is an account of a love that is tumultuous, all-consuming and transcends ordinary standards of human behaviour. It deals with a passion so powerful that it influences the lives of two generations. The fact that ‘separation’ is impossible for Cathy and Heathcliff and yet Cathy enforces such a separation leads to consequences that affect their lives and their children’s lives. Heathcliff is brought to Wuthering Heights by Mr Earnshaw and is immediately rejected and made to feel like an outsider. Brontë’s depiction of Heathcliff as a ‘dark-skinned gypsy’ with the ‘manners [of] a gentleman’ is deceptive, as he is shown to be capable of malicious and extreme behaviour. It is only with Cathy that he can reveal himself – his eventual separations from her, both self-imposed and after her demise, lead him to remove himself even further from acceptable social behaviour.

Wuthering Heights deals with a concept of love that goes beyond the confines of conventional morality. The love between Cathy and Heathcliff is one of uncontrolled passion that binds the two of them together into one entity and knows no right or wrong. By Cathy’s own admission, ‘If he were annihilated, the Universe would turn to a mighty stranger…I am Heathcliff’. The love between them is not a mere emotion but a ‘necessary’ primal force that has forged a spiritual connection between them – Cathy believes that they are essentially the same person with the ‘same soul’. However, in this scene she displays a practical nature in considering her marriage to Edgar in terms of how it can aid Heathcliff. She believes that marrying Edgar will allow her to ‘aid Heathcliff to rise’ and this is the ‘best’ motive for the marriage. Naively, Cathy pursues the belief that she can marry Edgar but never ‘consent to forsake Heathcliff’ – in her mind, Edgar should accept and even understand her bond with Heathcliff. Even as Nelly, a trusted confidant, pleads with her to understand that it is ‘folly’ to marry Edgar for ‘the worst motive’. It is futile, however, and Cathy temporarily transfers her affection to Edgar – knowing that her love for him is as passing as the ‘foliage in the woods’. Heathcliff, unknown to Cathy, has left the Heights to get away from a girl who told Nelly that
‘“It would degrade me to marry Heathcliff, now; so he shall never know how I love him; and that, not because he’s handsome Nelly, but because he’s more myself than I am. Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same, and [Edgar’s] is as different as a moonbeam from lightning, or frost from fire.”
Ere this speech ended I became sensible of Heathcliff’s presence…He had listened till he heard Catherine say it would degrade her to marry him, and then he staid to hear no further.’
After a three year hiatus, Heathcliff returns to Gimmerton determined to avenge himself upon all those who once scorned him. His pride drives him to ‘kiss’ Isabella because, as he tells Cathy, ‘I’m not your husband, you needn’t be jealous’. However, her jealousy is not ‘[of] Heathcliff’; rather it is ‘[for] Heathcliff’. The use of the word ‘for’ implies that Cathy has shouldered the burden of Heathcliff’s jealousy, so that he is free to love Isabella – if he so chooses. Cathy does this as another of her acts of ‘kindness’ towards Heathcliff – and he is unable to ‘seek revenge’ upon her, admitting that ‘If I imagined you really wished me to marry Isabella, I’d cut my own throat!’

The depth of Heathcliff’s desire to seek revenge can be linked to his ‘cuckoo’ like beginnings. Heathcliff’s story is that of the cuckoo bird – which lays its eggs in other birds’ nests – as he usurps Hindley in his father’s affections. By bringing Heathcliff back from Liverpool, Mr. Earnshaw ‘breeds bad feelings in the house’ as his own son, Hindley, begins to ‘regard his father as an oppressor rather than a friend’. The favouritism shown to Heathcliff is epitomized by the departure of Hindley to a boarding school – the son is sent away, the foundling kept close and nurtured. Eventually, after the death of Mr. Earnshaw, Hindley inherits possession of Wuthering Heights and proceeds to become ‘tyrannical’.
‘He drove [Heathcliff] from their company to the servants, deprived him of the instructions of the curate, and insisted that he should labour out of doors instead, compelling him to do so, as hard as any other lad on the farm.’
This treatment is what drives Heathcliff – his pride will not allow him to forget the injuries of his childhood and it inflames a passion for revenge. This desire is so overpowering that he is willing to sacrifice Hareton, Hindley’s son, in order to avenge those who have mistreated him. Once, upon accidentally saving the infant his ‘countenance expressed…the intense anguish at having made himself the instrument of thwarting his own revenge’. However, his ultimate vengeance is at hand. After returning from his mysterious disappearance, he takes up lodging at the Heights – he doesn’t care ‘how long he waits’ for revenge as long as he can ‘do it at last’ – and sets his plans in motion. Encouraging Hindley to drink and gamble, Heathcliff finally usurps ownership of Wuthering Heights, before twisting Hareton into a pawn – ‘[Hareton] is damnably fond of me’. The malicious destruction of the Earnshaw line is only the beginning – the Linton family, who stole Cathy from him, also feature in his plans. Marrying Isabella Linton, Edgar’s sister, for no reason other than to ‘gain a foothold in the Grange’ and to use her as ‘Edgar’s proxy in suffering’. His child by Isabella, named Linton, is the rightful heir of Thrushcross Grange, and he uses him to gain control of the manor. Telling Nelly, the narrator that,
‘My son is prospective owner of [Thrushcross Grange] and I should not wish him to die until I was certain of being his successor. Besides, he’s mine, and I want the triumph of seeing my descendent fairly lord of their estates; my child hiring their children, to till their father’s lands for wages – That is the sole consideration that can make me endure the whelp – I despise him for himself, and hate him for the memories he revives!’
By this stage, Linton has grown to his teens and Cathy, the initial object of Heathcliff’s passion has died. His life is now consumed by revenge – Heathcliff only tolerates Linton because he is the instrument through which he can ruin Edgar. His only interest in Linton is whether he will live to marry Edgar’s daughter and thus inherit Thrushcross Grange – once the marriage is complete, Linton’s life is ‘not worth a farthing’.

Throughout the novel we are left to wonder, as Nelly does, if Heathcliff really is vindictive. We are lost in the passionate love between him and Cathy – the love that is so ‘eternal’ it cannot be destroyed – and, like Nelly; we are ‘completely deceived’. Heathcliff, believing Cathy has chosen Edgar over him, leaves Wuthering Heights and sets off to begin his new life – however, their bond drags him back, pretending to be seeking revenge on her. It is evident from their first meeting that the love between them is as strong as ever – Heathcliff was ‘in hell’ till he saw her. His desire for revenge is still present, driving him to destroy Hindley. Heathcliff’s attempts to settle the scores are interrupted by Cathy’s untimely death and after her death his sole purpose becomes revenge. After he exacts this revenge, he begins to approach his own death – knowing this; he admits to Nelly that thoughts of Cathy have never left him. Despite it being eighteen years since her departure, ‘her features are shaped in the flagstones…in every cloud, in every tree’. Heathcliff has been pushed to the edge of reason by her death; in his own mind he questions ‘what right [she] had to leave him’. His life, without her, is a meagre existence – such is his love that he believes that he belongs with Cathy in body and in spirit, in life and in death.

Pride and Prejudice - Jane Austen

Many of Austen’s characters are guilty of self-delusion, few, however, are capable of self-honesty or reflection. Elizabeth Bennet originally seems to belong to the latter, ‘[priding] herself on her discernment’. But, as the story progresses and Wickham’s true character is exposed, Elizabeth realises the error of her judgement. She realises that she has acted ‘despicably’, displaying all the qualities that she had formerly attributed to Mr Darcy. Elizabeth realises that ‘till this moment, I never knew myself’.

Elizabeth is honest about her feelings early in the novel. Charlotte Lucas suggests that Mr Darcy has ‘a right to be proud’ because he is a ‘fine young man’, who has good family and fortune. This not only provides an insight into Charlotte’s practical character, which is later characterized by her marriage to Mr Collins, but also into Elizabeth’s. Her response is very revealing. She displays admirable honesty and maturity in admitting that ‘that is very true…and I could easily forgive his pride, if he had not mortified mine’. Elizabeth’s ‘mortified’ pride, due to Darcy overlooking her at the dance, leaves her with a predisposition to believe Wickham’s allegations. Usually discerning, she is completely convinced that Wickham has been wronged. However, if Elizabeth were to be more objective, she should have questioned why Wickham, a total stranger, should reveal so much of himself. Eventually she does question, realising that his ‘behaviour to herself could…have had no tolerable motive’ and concluding that he was ‘encouraging the preference which…she had most incautiously shown’.

Mrs Bennet, throughout the novel, displays a copious amount of self-delusion. The pinnacle of this is at the Netherfield ball, where she loudly boasts of ‘her expectation’ that Jane will marry Mr Bingley. By speaking so prematurely of her prospective son-in-law, she prompts Mr Darcy, not only to ‘separate my friend from your sister’, but to form a lasting opinion of her. The Netherfield Ball is almost a magnet for self-delusion, with the majority of the Bennet party acting shamefully; Lydia and Kitty flirt outrageously, Mary commandeers the piano and Mr Collins is guilty of more presumptuous pride than Mr Darcy. Mr Collin’s portrayal as self-deluding is extended by his proposal to Elizabeth. When he proposes to her, he does it in the wrong manner – just as Mr Darcy did initially. Darcy rails against ‘the inferiority of her connections’ and the acquisition of relations ‘whose condition in life is so decidedly beneath my own’. Mr Collins is quite frank about the fact that he considers Elizabeth to be lucky to have the chance to marry someone who had such ‘connections with the family of De Bourgh’. Both of these characters consider Elizabeth’s hand in marriage a certainty – neither considers the possibility of rejection.

When Elizabeth travels to Hunsford, to meet with Mr Collins and his new wife, we see the contrast between the Bennets’ ‘connections’ and those of Mr Darcy. When she sees that Darcy’s promised wife is ‘sickly and cross’ Elizabeth decides that for Mr Darcy, Miss De Bourgh is a ‘very proper wife’. When the party dines at Rosings, Austen reinforces a distinction between the social standing of Elizabeth’s ‘connections’ and Mr Darcy’s. This is done through subtle use of language when describing the opulence of Rosings, as well as the depiction of Lady Catherine. Mr Collins assures Elizabeth that ‘she will not think the worse of you for being simply dressed. She likes to have the distinction of rank preserved’. Elizabeth, who could witness ‘money without trepidation’ was unfazed by Lady Catherine’s ‘condescension’. So far, Mr Darcy has ‘among his own connections [been] esteemed and valued – that even Wickham had allowed him merit’, but Lady Catherine seems to delight in using her power to manipulate others. Austen makes it clear that in 18th century England, social status was determined by  family – or as is often referred to in the book, ‘connections’. This clearly illustrates the value placed upon marrying well and elevating one’s social position.

The importance of marriage is highlighted by Darcy’s first proposal to Elizabeth. He is proposing despite ‘the scruples that had long prevented my forming any serious design’. These scruples had to do with Elizabeth’s family and their lowly ‘condition’. Displaying both pride and prejudice, Darcy believes his feelings towards her family to be ‘natural’ and ‘just’, refusing to ‘conceal my struggles’ or pretending to act out of ‘unqualified, unalloyed inclination’. He shows no consideration for Elizabeth’s feelings when he assumes that this offer will be accepted. Elizabeth, in return, reveals her true opinion of Darcy – he is arrogant, conceited and has a ‘selfish disdain of the feelings of others’. All of these things have accumulated to form ‘so immoveable a dislike’ that Darcy is the ‘last man in the world’ she would want to marry. He bears the rejection ‘with assumed tranquillity’ showing ‘no feeling of remorse’, but it is the accusation that he is not ‘a gentleman’ that ‘tortures’ him. Both Elizabeth and Darcy have shown remarkable frankness in admitting what they think of the other.

Elizabeth soon learns, however, that Darcy’s villainous treatment of Wickham is fabricated. This realisation leaves her feeling ‘humiliated’. The repeated use of exclamation marks emphasises Elizabeth’s disappointment in her lack of perception – ‘How humiliating is this discovery!’. Her ‘abilities’ upon which she ‘valued’ herself, had let her down. With this discovery, she is forced to reflect on everything that she thought she knew of them, until ‘she grew absolutely ashamed of herself – of neither Darcy nor Wickham could she think, without feeling that she had been blind, partial, prejudiced, absurd’.

Through the novel, Austen explores the detrimental effects of pride and prejudice. Initially, Mr Darcy is a haughty, unlikeable man; however, by the end of the novel, he has completed a journey towards self-awareness and love. The same is true of Elizabeth – she no longer prides herself so much on her perception, to the exclusion of all else. Both of these characters have learnt to honestly acknowledge their own faults, rather than being blind to them. The marriages at the end of the novel not only serve to satisfy the romantic interests in the story, but also provide a harmonious resolution of conflict. The negative traits of pride and prejudice, which stem from self-delusion, have been reconciled within each character.

[simpak]

I WOULD POST SOME BUT I SOLD THEM ALL TO TSFX IN A FIT OF BROKE RAGE AND THEY TOLD ME A PART OF MY CONTRACT IS I AM NO LONGER ALLOWED TO DISTRIBUTE THEM ON THE INTERNET.

But oh well:

Essay on A Passage to India

Though the condescending tone evoked in the Collector’s description of “the Aryan brother”, Forster highlights not only the ignorance of the imperialist English society in believing that Indian civilians are merely existing for their own “amusement”, but the pathetic sense of false power demonstrated in humanity’s quest to impose an impression upon the “vastness” and intrinsic indifference of the universe.  Forster contends that society stages only a “feeble invasion” upon the face of “infinity and eternity”, and hence through his prolonged construction of sarcastic and ironic tone undermines the efforts of humanity to encompass the cosmos within the “superficial glamour” and structure of civility.  Furthermore, Forster contests within his condemnation for British order and structure – most accurately harnessed in his description of the law in Passage 3 – that mankind’s attempts to grasp the qualms and truths of the universe will never be successful.  Instead, humanity must continue to struggle within the muddled “catastrophe” of the incomprehensible “shapeless lumps of the universe”; where Forster suggests that the logic of mankind will always be defeated by the truths of the greater cosmos that they “[do] not understand”.

In Passage 1, Forster criticizes the English assumption that the “gulf between East and West” can be “bridged”, implying in their patronizing tones and revelations the falsities of their sense of power over not only the Indian race, but the “spirit of the Indian earth” and the greater aspects of the universe.  Forster compares the Collector and Mrs Turton to “little gods” to emphasize the irony in their pathetic manner of assumption regarding their importance within the universe.  Forster contends, by employing an omniscient mode of narration, that humanity, far from being worshipped, will “die exiled from glory” – a consequence of mankind’s inability to recognize the truth in the triviality of their existence in a universe that will always succeed in “[undermining their] hold on life”.  Forster infers that the Collector’s observation that “India does wonders for the judgment, especially in the Hot Weather” is poignant, as the English society’s inability to cope with the demands of the furious and indifferent forces of nature that surrounds them is truly exposed within the trapping walls of the tension created in this weather. Ronny’s belief in the Collector’s reputation as a “great man” highlights the warped perception of the English understanding in regards to their abilities in the face of the universe, as Forster invites the reader to understand that Ronny’s observation is made in an incessantly sincere light.  In this way, Forster establishes the English and hence humanity as misguided in their interpretations of their own power, as though they may patronize the formless “virtues” of the Indian society, humanity too becomes a “nobody” when faced with the realities of the universe – just as the elephant does in Passage 2.

In suggesting that “no one can even begin to think of knowing [India] until he has been in it twenty years”, Forster implies that the formless beauties of the Indian landscape cannot be grasped by the mere human, and instead remain unintelligible; defeating humanity’s interpretations of logic and truth.  In Passage 2, Forster emphasizes the facets of Mrs Moore’s being that have recently been enlightened during her visit to the Marabar; where once she was universally understanding and optimistic, she can now realize her own insignificance within a world that will “go on” despite the consequences of her actions.  Forster employs the recurrent motif of the Marabar caves in order to demonstrate the defeat of human understanding and logic when enveloped in the paradox of the definite indefinite – they “cannot be romanticized” as they cannot be understood.  Forster’s draws a parallel between the symbolic metaphors of the Marabar and Plato’s allegory of the cave, in which the foundations of our humanity are questioned.  Indeed, Mrs Moore’s experiences in the cave are framed with this same satirical and ironic disposition.  Forster adopts the symbol of the “echo” that is “indescribable” to the human logic in order to demonstrate the incapacities of mankind’s intelligence, and the swift defeat of society’s intellectualism.  Demonstrating through the concept of unity that “pathos, piety and courage…all exist, but are identical and so is filth”, Forster attempts to demonstrate to the reader their own inability to understand the paradox of the greater cosmos and the difficulties it presents to the justifications of human capacity.  Furthermore, Forster contends that in the face of the universe, diverse observations; “vileness [and] lofty poetry”, can be reduced to the same unintelligible muddle – “ou-boum”.  In this way, Forster demonstrates that the complexities of the human logicality that “all amounts to the same” as the universe defeats language, religion and scientific theory alike and therefore defeated in the paradoxically unified dichotomies of the greater cosmos.  Furthermore, Mrs Moore’s belief in “poor little talkative Christianity” is swiftly rebuked, as Forster contests that in the context of the greater understanding of the universe the doctrines of religion are reduced to nothing – Christianity too is swallowed up by the “echo” that culminates in the caverns of creation.  The efforts of humanity to grasp the truths of the universe in religion, Forster suggests, are trivial as “all [Christianity’s] divine words from ‘Let there be light’ to ‘It is finished’ only [amount] to boum”.  Just as these attempts are silenced within the Marabar caves for Mrs Moore, they are inadequate measures for understanding within the universe; merely another form of logic that will be forced to suffer a swift defeat in the formlessness of the greater realm.

Similarly in Passage 3, Adela’s inherent misunderstanding of confusion of the Marabar caves highlights the misconceptions of humanity in their efforts to understand their surrounds. The way in which Adela’s claims are stupefied by the “vision” that Forster suggests catalyses her epiphany demonstrates the intrinsic fall of society’s structure, order and ritual – here symbolized by the proceedings of the law.  Adela’s realization that “[she has] made a mistake” is followed by immediate outrage from the English as they seek to reestablish their false control over their surroundings.  Forster suggests that they act as a mass; “all…[rising] from their chairs at once”, but that their logic is still threatened by the “different accounts” that the muddle of “hundreds of things [going] on at once” creates.  The way in which the English are unable to regain control and order within the court that they have ironically installed signifies the imperative collapse of human society’s order, and with it the triumph of the confusion of the universe over the structured logic of mankind.  The way in which Adela is compared to “a broken machine” by Mr McBryde emphasizes the way in which the false power evoked through the structure of humanity has too been “broken” or destroyed by the puzzles of the Indian earth, as Adela comes to a final conclusion about the happenings of the Marabar caves – and it is not a formulated or logical one.  The “hard prosaic tone” in which Adela withdraws her claim against Aziz demonstrates her newfound understanding of the “insipidity of the world” and the structure and order that the body of humanity imposes upon it. Adela’s enlightenment has ceased in the turn of her epiphany, and Forster makes this clear as the omniscient narrator proposes that “[her vision was over]” – she is now able to use the truths of humanity as a weapon in defining her interpretation though they are “something that she [does] not understand”.  Consequently, Forster expresses his abhorrence for the structured mannerisms of British imperialism, and that are mirrored within the facets of a society that will always be belittled in the face of the universe and its vastness.

Though his continued use of irony and sarcasm, Forster invites his reader to understand the truisms of their irrelevance in a world where “everything exists”, yet “nothing has value”.  Forster’s heavy adoption of the recurring motif of the Marabar caves acts as a poignant obstruction to the capacities and lengths of human reasoning and logicality, that he contests cannot withstand the pressures placed upon it by a universe that cannot be “[accommodated] to mankind”.  Furthermore, Forster emphasizes the irony surrounding the patronizing nature of the British society as they undermine their Indian neighbors while remaining inadequate in the context of the greater realm; believing strongly in the great extent of their impressions upon a world that is inherently formless, and that rejects the structure of mankind.  In this way, Forster highlights the pathetic nature of the English’s sense of false power, as they attempt to exhibit a lasting impression upon India in the form of regime and logic, but are met only with the everlasting “boum” that reduce not only society’s capacities but the entirety of the human race to nothing.

[simpak]

Did that by computer earlier in the year, but I've produced pieces of the same length in 60 minutes.  It's just practice though.

We're doing Hamlet and Emma.  :p

Okay I just have to say - I'm weirded out.

[iffets12345]

mavis like you can talk you wrote the same amount of words too O_O

[schmalex]

I wrote 958 words in 40 minutes for English, but it was a context essay, which is quite easy, and I won't say that those words were of high quality. Still, it's physically possible.

[iffets12345]

yea but thinking at the same time as writing... sigh. I'm just not up there lol.