A Multitude of Sins

A Multitude of Sins by Richard Ford

Published: 2001 by Vintage Books

ISBN: 978-037572569

Price: $14.00

"How did you ever make a moment be worth as much as it could be, if you didn't reach?" Richard Ford's characters in A Multitude of Sins are masters of profundity, provoking divisive reactions among readers before leaving them gasping for air.

With an unparalleled affinity for capturing human complexity, Ford sweeps along sharp turns in relationships with careful guidance, never letting the protagonist be overtaken by the moment. Each of the ten anti-love stories is a testament to dirty realism, providing an intimacy rarely witnessed in modern literature.

Nick Medline sees both sides to an argument and both sides of a person. When not admiring The Brothers Karamazov, he tweets his general literary observations to @NJMedline.

A Multitude of Sins: Under the Radar - Character Development

Richard Ford's A Multitude of Sins is a collection of ten intimate short stories, each of which found me guilty upon turning each page, as if I were reading through diaries detailing first-party accounts of tumultuous relationships. The story that struck me was the unrelenting Under the Radar, where a young woman tells her husband of a recent affair with the host of the dinner party they are travelling to attend. Although the piece is just over ten pages long, it has the impact of three hundred, and led me to dislike both parties in the relationship without resorting to gimmicks or excessive violence.

Marjorie, the despicable wife, displays a great deal of complexity however banal she may be. Ford, after being prompted by an interviewer on which of the stories his readers would've liked him to expand, immediately brought up Under the Radar. We are treated to internal dialogue and given brief descriptions of Marjorie and her husband Steven, but character development becomes especially important given limited space. The protagonist is defined by her actions, and what they reveal about her personality. "She was fond of getting a little tipsy at parties and lowering her voice and sitting on a flowered ottoman or a burl table top with a glass of something and showing too much of her legs or inappropriate amounts of her small breasts." (143) We are made aware of her transgressions in public that foreshadow her affair with the elite Yale-graduate George Nicholson, and although she does little in the car, Ford hints at her promiscuity by describing prior actions. What she does do is force her husband, who after little deliberation strikes her in the nose, to check on a dying raccoon on the highway, before revving up the car and driving off into the distance, never acknowledging her fault in their conflict.

Our lovely protagonist Marjorie's dialogue shows her to be both conniving and obscene. She begins by apologizing, but this is negated by the inappropriate environment to do so. A year later, in a car, on the way to her ex-lover's party? After Steven breaks her nose with a brutal slap to the face, a poor response brought about by his shock at her revelation, Marjorie's true colours begin to show: "I was sorry when I told you... Though not very sorry... Only sorry because I had to tell you. And now that I've told you and you've hit me in the face and probably broken my nose, I'm not sorry about anything--except that. Though I'm sorry about being married to you, which I'll remedy as soon as I can." (150) Marjorie was looking for a way out of the marriage, and Steven was lured into giving her one. She is also highly abrasive, as indicated by her profanity-laden anti-redneck tirade: "So now, will you as a gesture of whatever good there is in you, get out and go over and do something to help that poor injured creature that those motherfucking rednecks maimed with their motherfucking pickup truck and then because they're pieces of shit and low forms of degraded humanity, laughed about?" (150-151) The entire story makes me wonder how destroyed the (by most accounts) docile Steven is after two years of being married to this wretch. With dialogue, Ford shows Marjorie's undesirable character traits that bring out the worst in her husband.

Getting married young, Ford must think, is an ill-conceived idea. "The women who knew Marjorie Reeves thought of her as a bimbo who would not stay married to sweet Steven Reeves for very long. His second wife would be the right wife for him. Marjorie was just a starter." (143) Other individuals' opinions on Marjorie show the relationship for what it is: a confused young man erring in his choice of partner. Perhaps they envisioned a less violent outcome, but the idea of her being a bimbo seems accurate. Steven also bases his decision upon few criteria before rushing to the altar: "He'd liked her bobbed hair, her fragile, wispy features, translucent skin and the slightly husky voice that made her seem more sophisticated than she was, but somehow convinced her she was too." (143) Ironically, the excerpt most telling about the protagonist's personality is that her own husband never focused on personality, but only on physical attributes.

Richard Ford "Dirty Realism"

"The dirty realists, a bunch of writers that burgeoned in the 70s and 80s, were concerned with the dispossessed, the other America, the people at the margins and the trailer parks. In the main, the tone was minimal; spare to the point of inarticulate." - Stuart Evers, The Guardian

As Ford grew into his own by writing a number of successful novels, he was nonetheless frustrated by his inability to write short stories. Then he became friends with famous dirty realists, and being around these writers (Ray Carver, Toby Wolff, and others) helped him figure out techniques to be stronger in this genre. Ford notes that being "pithy" is important. Get in, make your point, let it speak for itself, and get out. Although short stories rarely receive adequate recognition- as demonstrated in the case of Ann Beattie- they allowed him to refine some "dirty realist" techniques. Ford dismisses the term as a marketing ploy, but there are a number of examples in his short stories that do show the influence of his friends.

"A girl dressed in uniform exactly like Louise's waited on the opposite side of the street from where the man was loading cardboard boxes onto the minivan, and where two more cars were parked at the curb. She was in front of what had once been a house but was now a weed-encircled concrete slab with a relic chain-link fence across what would've been a back yard, where an old-fashioned mangle iron sat marooned on its side."- Leaving for Kenosha

To me, this passage stood out as not only the best depiction of life in post-Katrina New Orleans, but as a perfect example of dirty realism. The language may be of a slightly higher quality and contain a couple more adjectives than normal, but captures the essence of "the people at the margins" suggested by Evers. Ford refrains from sensationalizing, and realistically captures the setting and condition of Ginny's residence. The use of dirty realism makes for highly effective prose and adds dimension to Ford's work.

Richard Ford "Writing Life"

Ford is wise when discussing the writing life, and points out that although you may not get any smarter as you age, the result is a "brain full of stuff life has left with you." By drawing from these experiences, Ford believes you can write a successful piece by finding reality within your writing. An interesting segment of the interview has Levin mentioning the prevalence of car scenes in his work, as the self-deprecating Ford admits that he proposed to his wife in a 1962 Chrysler Windsor. A lesson can be taken from this, as Ford strives to create "plausible places for events to occur." Sometimes, Ford says, a writer can include dialogue that seems contrived, because he considers it okay to "continually put in things that don't make any sense."

In Writer's Craft, I've aimed to improve my writing without taking away some of my strengths, and I find Ford puts this struggle that young writers have quite nicely: "Don't short circuit a part of yourself." This quotation echoes similar remarks from visiting authors Michael Winter and Cathy Gildiner. Earlier this month, I wrote a draft of a tattoo piece that just didn't feel right, so I instinctively changed it and am pleased with the final product. Jonathan Franzen compiled a list of "Rules for Writing," one of which states, "Write in the third person unless a really distinctive first-person voice offers itself irrestisibly." Ford would likely concur with this rule, as he claims he had no difficulty in finding the voice of Frank Bascombe, which is evident given the trilogy he sculpted around this character. Finally, Ford points out the importance in "well-chosen language" to avoid becoming wordy, another common issue I've had with my writing.

Richard Ford "Politics"

Ford's recent article "Gov't on Our Minds" objectively points out American apathy towards midterm elections and how regardless of one's political stance, there is a need for "less government in daily lives." He even mentions Democrats' "tepid achievements." His writing is smart, witty, and provocative. Quite frankly, I wouldn't use any of those three adjectives to describe the usual political commentary, but I found Ford's mature viewpoints unique. After reading this, I expected him to elaborate further on these unique ideas in the Levin interview.

Don't get me wrong: I admire Ford's writing tremendously. However, that doesn't grant him permission to conduct snarky character attacks on George W. Bush or make a number of generalizations not up to par for someone of his intellect. I'm a centrist, and even if I were an avid Tea Party member or staunch liberal, I'd consider calling the president a "moron" childish. He states almost with certainty that the Republicans stole the election, and that Gore was "egregiously lax" by not calling for a recount. This comes off as nothing short of spiteful, and I find there are too many cynics these days who can rant about problems, but never raise solutions. I never supported Bush, but couldn't even fathom saying that he didn't offer prompt aid to the people of New Orleans because "African-American people weren't Republicans." A shout-out to Mr. Levin on this as well, as he leads Ford right into the answer with his nice little remark on "people you don't need to rescue." I understand his frustration directed towards the Bush administration, but constructive criticism would've been welcome.

Richard Ford "Post-Katrina New Orleans"

In "A City Beyond the Reach of Empathy," Richard Ford delves into a number of his thoughts concerning post-Katrina New Orleans. The experience of watching New Orleans evokes nostalgia, as he recalls a fight between his parents at Antoine's restaurant, a trip on the Algiers Ferry with his mother, and being mugged by a young man on Coliseum Street. Ford worries about the safety of the individuals he encountered in these situations- even the young man who pulled a silver pistol on he and his wife- in the wake of disaster. Perhaps Ford realizes the gravity of the situations best when he remarks: "Our inept attempts at words run only to lists, costs, to assessing blame." At times, it feels as if he considers New Orleans dead, reminiscing on traditions like the city's inimitable joy surrounding Mardi Gras. The overriding theme of the articles is uncertainty, and Ford wonders how the city will rise after Hurricane Katrina. "Today is a beginning," he points out rather optimistically, although to this day he condemns the lack of governmental support given to individuals hoping to return to their homes and begin anew.

His short fiction piece "Leaving for Kenosha" centres around the story of a thirteen-year old girl saying goodbye to her classmate, who just a week into the school year is moving to Wisconsin. More importantly, the story is set in New Orleans, two years after Katrina, where everyone is still impacted by the disaster. It reads quite similarly to acclaimed sportswriter S.L. Price's brief commentary (in a 1997 article on athlete Randy Moss) on how the town of Huntington, West Virginia was still coping after the 1970 plane crash that killed seventy-five players and coaches of the Marshall University football team. Everyone hurts long after impact. The scene of impoverished individuals scouring a Wal-Mart as Walter Hobbes guiltily searches for an appropriate greeting card is powerfully written, as is the description of he and Louise's eye-opening trip into the "demolished neighborhood" where Ginny resides. Two years later, and people continue to struggle. "Letter writers had predicted that everything would soon be restored and become even better. So far that hadn't happened." Ford's story offers a compelling perspective on the wreckage that was New Orleans years after the disaster.

Writers' Trust Fiction

Of the five excerpts, I was most impressed with Michael Winter's The Death of Donna Whalen. Part of my decision may be related to his fantastic appearance at last week's readings, which included him wearing a pair of ridiculous pink jeans, but ultimately, his unique style shone through. The poor grammar employed by the narrator adds a sense of authenticity, and immediately draws the reader in. Winter also does a fantastic job of adding suspense in only five hundred words. The plot revolves around an innocent man convicted of stabbing his girlfriend thirty-one times, and I find it extremely effective that we learn of Sheldon's alcoholism and an event that preceded the brutal murder. The ultimate test is whether the excerpt makes me want to go on an Indigo run to purchase the novel. In the case of Donna Whalen, it certainly does.

Room, which was awarded the prize just a few hours ago, earns an honourable mention. Emma Donoghue opts to take a humourous approach to her excerpt, which is understandable given the adorable five-year old narrator. "Was I minus numbers?" He asks when considering his age. Most people would cringe if faced with the task of writing through the perspective of a child, but Donoghue appears to have embraced it. The dialogue is realistic, and the descriptions echoed my thought process at a young age. I gain an understanding of the close relationship the boy and his mother have cultivated in the confines of a room, but am also aware of a dark undertone: "The air's always different if he came."

Cathy Gildiner Visit

About thirty minutes into Cathy Gildiner’s visit to our class, I felt that she had blended into our high-spirited environment so well that it was easy to forget the presence of a guest author. The only way to capture the attention of high school students is to gain their respect, and Cathy was able to do so as a result of her modesty. By listening to us voice our questions and concerns, she offered relevant advice. Over the past couple of years, each of us has developed a skill set as writers, but we tend to become frustrated in keeping a narrow focus. Cathy, an acclaimed novelist, advised us to read over the piece and eliminate useless information, which I will consider throughout this blog and every writing piece I submit over the course of the year. Her editing board, which ran on a chapter-to-chapter basis, demonstrated the importance of organization to maintain effective structure.

Afterwards, I thought of the general teenage tendency to appreciate fiction novels more so than memoirs, yet by general consensus, our class considers After the Falls superior to Seduction. Would you be surprised to know this? How important is it to include personal experience in literature? Should it be essential to some degree? Is there a writer from whom you draw inspiration? What technique makes him or her special? Also, where does your excellent sense of humour come from? Is Colin Stitt the funniest student you’ve ever encountered? These are some of the many questions that arose from her discussion, but unfortunately, I was too exhausted to articulate any of these in class. On a more serious note, Cathy’s visit was quite effective, and because she was able to relate to our class, I was able to draw a number of lessons to aid my development as a clearer writer.

After the Falls

a) As an impressionable youth, Cathy is inspired by her parents and the family's happy existence in the small town of Lewiston. Their ultimate bonding comes from the family department store and traditions they follow, and throughout the novel, we see Cathy develop traits specific to each parent: the patience and sensibility of her mother, and the passion and resilience of her father. Although their relationships weren't without troubles, Cathy values the influence each had on her life, and remembers the times she needed them for assistance.

The donnybrook in Chapter 2 is an example of how much her father valued his relationship with Cathy. She hardly does anything wrong, but his clear concern about losing her to "every Tom, Dick, and Harry" (25) is endearing. He has difficulty dealing with her normal teen angst as well as the relocation to Buffalo, but aids her in making educated decisions. His idea to put dimes in her loafers in case of an emergency turns out to be critical, and even more admirable is that he never criticizes her for having to call him at an unseemly hour. However, as usual, she can't escape from criticizing his strange mannerisms: "No one knew I had a father that sang along with popular music. How embarrassing was that?" (142) Soon after, she finds out that he has cancer, and her outlook on life changes dramatically.

The final pages in the novel provide a passage that summarizes her admiration for her parents: "He'd lost some frontal lobe, some memory, some intellectual functioning, but his automatic system hadn't yet been hit. And even with all the chemo and radiation he'd had, he never complained." (323) Cathy is always determined to take on challenges and will never forget the impact that her father had on her life, which makes the conclusion of the novel altogether fitting. Cathy fails to cultivate the same relationship with her mother, but repeats some of the little things crucial to her upbringing: "Through ridiculous high school hijinks, the black lawn jockeys, my refusal to do school work, the calls from the guidance centre, the fire at the doughnut shop, she was always behind me, never wavering in her belief in me." (324)

b) A few particular pop culture references or events appear to have had the greatest impact on Cathy's life. Early on, Gildiner does an exceptional job in framing The Beatles' appearance on national television in 1964. "I told her that the Beatles coming to America was history in the making. Even Walter Cronkite had said that." (109) It's understandably difficult to imagine what it would've been like seeing the greatest band in history on a television screen in the sixties, but Cathy shows a love for music that can be traced back to this early experience.

Seeing Buffalo Springfield live may have been a more intense encounter, as the band captured the aura of rebellion. Even Cathy explains, "It was as though these lyrics were perfectly describing the last six months of my life." (189) The anti-establishment attitude brought about by the Vietnam War was spurred by music, and Cathy mentions the following lyrics that set the stage for some of the conflicts she would be a part of: "Paranoia strikes deep, into your life it will creep, it starts when you're always afraid, you step out of line, the man come and take you away." (190)

Laurie Coal, Cathy's African-American boyfriend, plays an instrumental role in her involvement with civil rights issues of the time. "Laurie came down most weekends and together we got involved in civil rights demonstrations and worked for the [NAACP]." (264) She has a firm sense of morals, and is shocked at the assassination of Martin Luther King. Her passion for welfare and helping others is supported by her experiences in riots of the time. Ultimately, popular culture helps her gain an understanding of herself and allows her to grow as an individual.

c) Usually, the sections in memoirs involving work life tend to be filler or are used for exposition. Cathy's life, however, seems anything but ordinary. Working in a family-run drug store, she is immediately exposed to the positive influence of a work environment, and her ambition is always high when seeking employment. "Nothing was complicated back then... I felt loved by everyone and all I knew was the joy of working hard and marvelling at the beauty around us." (29) The Dunk is arguably the most dear to Cathy's heart, simply because she was able to learn about working-class America. After being shocked at moving to a lower-quality house, she can't believe how difficult the lives of others are. She also takes into consideration some of the smaller pleasures in life: "Although the Dunk had its drawbacks in terms of a mean boss who exploited everyone, I learned there how hauntingly beautiful the dawn could be... You can do a whole day's thinking between the hours of 4 and 7 a.m." (94)

Cathy's life is incidentally quite dramatic. After being hired a short order cook, fired because of her inability to make the simplest of menu items, and being rehired as a hostess (the highest paying job in the restaurant), she unknowingly encounters Howard Johnson. Being an excellent hostess, she lures him into buying a better cut of beef, and has an excellent conversation with him. "Howard Johnson was a nice guy, and the best part was he really liked me. He thought it was great how I had talked him into a more expensive meal. He even approved of me sending the overflow to the next Howard Johnson down the pike." (129)

After reluctantly accepting a job with New York State Welfare, Cathy comes to the unfortunate realization that no one in the organization cares. For a while, she abides by the system of doing nothing, but her compassion could only be restrained for so long. Eventually, she grows to know less-fortunate individuals, such as Flaps, and begins to care about her position. "It was then that I conceived the idea. I realized that I couldn't reform the welfare system before I went back to school, but what I could do was disrupt its present stagnation." (207) I've found in the past that it feels easy to withhold your desire to create change in an apathetic environment, and Cathy should be commended for improving the lives of others.

d) Cathy's friendship are pivotal, beginning with Roy, the driver at McClure's Drugs. After the incident at church, she brings back memories of her friend as she "began to tell him of all that had happened since moving. It poured out: the ugliness of the neighbourhood, the tiny house, the four-lane highways and the restaurants where the unhappy worked and the unhappier ate." (30) Roy is a symbol of her growth, as she smokes with him in spite of her parents' disapproval.

Fran Stephens and Cathy become unlikely friends, as while Cathy tries to navigate junior high in a new town, "hit the dirt" has mastered everything up to the vice-principal's speeches. They have a strong friendship, but will always share a bond after the brutal rape they witness her brothers committing. Cathy is so appalled and disturbed by what she sees that she "vowed then that I'd rather be thought of as anything-- cruel, unpopular, you name it-- than be dismissed and humiliated as Veronica had been." (61) Although the mission does not end as successfully as Cathy desires, Fran also gathers the courage to join her on her "Black Lawn Jockeys Mission."

Aside from Cathy's father, Kip Rogers is the source of the only male friendship that she could sustain prior to Laurie Coal. "Girls loved Kip, but as a result of the Donny Donnybrook and the Veronica episode, I had become immune to that kind of thing, so we just had fun together. He was one of those rare boys you could manage a friendship with." (64) They keep in touch throughout his entire life, which is cut short after his death in the Vietnam War, which was certainly a trigger, so to speak, in Cathy's interest in the political atmosphere of the time. Without a doubt, the toughest moment in After the Falls, along with Cathy's father's cancer diagnosis, is when Kip dies in Vietnam. "Doc lined up two shots of whisky for everyone at the bar. Doc, always a spokesman, held up his glass, and did a slow 360-degree turn with his drink held high in the air until everyone in the whole bar was silent." (248) Kip, Fran, and Roy are just a few of the examples of friendship that contributed to Cathy's understanding of herself.

Moving the Reader

Truth and Beauty

"I was still mad at her, furious with her, but that wasn't the question. The question was did I love her. And I always loved her."

Patchett skillfully captures the power of friendship, because although the strong-willed Lucy and observant Ann have polar opposite reactions in the wake of 9/11, the two close friends are able to brush the incident off. Friendship is never about embracing similarity, but about accepting the other's differences. This passage moves me emotionally because of its realistic nature- I would likely go through the same thought process as Patchett does after a major fight with a good friend.

"History is strangely incomprehensible when you're standing in the middle of it."

This was so profoundly moving at first glance that I took out a pen and immediately underlined it. Patchett takes a step back from the horrors of being in the midst of 9/11 to make a general observation of how she- and others- reacted in the face of the most important event the millennium has seen. The brief passage puts her emotions into perspective. Her thoughts aren't drawn to the potentially injured people or the cause of the event, but instead, she exhibits common curiosity.

Ass Burger

"A weight has been lifted. And I understand why sometimes people speak in clichés because sometimes there is simply no other way to describe something. A weight has been lifted. It's not all my fault. I'm not retarded. Or slow. It's him. It's always been him. And nobody knew it."

Not only does this move me emotionally, it likely moved Burroughs emotionally more so than other passages in this chapter, as nothing draws a reader further into the thoughts of the reader than a sudden change in sentence structure. I can only imagine being Burroughs in this situation; after so many years of being confused, his brother's actions finally make sense. Despite worshipping his brother's abilities, he feels a sense of relief that he isn't the "retarded" one. The passage benefits from its authenticity, allowing the reader to relate to Burroughs' conflicting emotions.

"It is associated with geniuses, and this is why Manhattan parents are often secretly thrilled to have their bratty, brainy, introverted children diagnosed with this condition. It is the first trendy thing ever to occur in the atmosphere surrounding my brother."

One of the most powerful emotions Burroughs utilizes in Ass Burger is humour. Rarely does anyone associate Asperger's syndrome with an opportunity to make a quip concerning elitist parents. However, by using a variety of emotions, Burroughs shows his ability to move the reader. Most would find it a difficult and horrifying experience, but it takes courage to use humour when discussing a grim diagnosis.

After the Falls

"I had no idea then that I was leaving behind the least-troubled years of my life. Strange, since i felt there was no way I could cause more trouble than I'd caused in Lewiston." (5)

Cathy goes through the difficult experience of having to move homes during her adolescence, and reminisces on the time she spent in Lewiston. It is clear that although Cathy attributes some of her angst to the downgrade in homes, she truly misses Lewiston and the tradition that accompanied her former abode. This passage early in the memoir sets the stage: we are immediately presented with the fact that she will have her share of struggles. As someone who moved a number of times, I can relate to her missing, and going so far as glorifying, the past in an old home. Upon each move, there was a turning point in my life, and the same can be said for Cathy as she leaves Lewiston.

Summer Reading- One Hundred Years of Solitude

“At dawn, after a summary court-martial, Arcadio was shot against the wall of the cemetery. In the last two hours of his life, he did not manage to understand why the fear that had tormented him since childhood had disappeared. Impassive, without even worrying about making a show of his recent bravery, he listened to the interminable charges of the accusation… In the shattered schoolhouse where for the first time he had felt the security of power, a few feet from the room where he had come to know the uncertainty of love, Arcadio found the formality of death ridiculous. Death really did not matter to him but life did, and therefore the sensation he felt when they gave their decision was not a feeling of fear but of nostalgia.” (122)

In just five sentences, Nobel Prize-winning author Gabriel Garcia Marquez conquers a task that even the most accomplished writer would never dream of: describing the terse moments before a general’s death. Although the epic novel spans seven generations of the Buendia family, who founded the small town of Macondo and observed the progression of time, the heartbreak of war, and the depressingly corrupt nature of society, it feels in this passage as if the entire novel revolves around third-generation Arcadio. In One Hundred Years of Solitude, he is the most brutal personage, and would have undoubtedly killed his mother if she stood in the way of his powerful regime. Early in the seventh chapter, Marquez manages to paint a despicable image of Arcadio, but in this passage, he presents a non-judgmental view of the general, simply giving an outline of his thoughts before death.

One Hundred Years of Solitude is anything but a character study, and Marquez intended to deliver a poignant social commentary. When conducting a deeper analysis of the passage, the reader comes to the conclusion that the objective of the paragraph is to point out the futility of capital punishment: “Death really did not matter to him but life did.” Arcadio has killed many innocent civilians and is one of the most reprehensible characters in literature, yet he is impartial to the thought of death- something he feared throughout his life- and is killed briefly and painlessly as he reflects on the smaller pleasures of his short life. The undeniably strong Arcadio reminisces on the importance of particular landmarks, such as “the shattered schoolhouse where for the first time he felt the security of power.” It seems as if the individuals conducting the “formalities,” such as reading off the “interminable charges of the accusation” are embarrassing themselves, as their procedure fails to inflict considerable pain because Arcadio is comfortable with his fate. Many themes are stressed over the course of One Hundred Years of Solitude, including Marquez’s obsession with communist theory, but this was an especially well-written passage due to its intense nature and the fact that it broached a difficult subject.

“One of the pompous young officers, who was so audacious as to adopt an air of superiority when speaking to me, meticulously recounted each and every charge I faced. The precursor of my death was hopeful and rejuvenating, which I doubt were the intentions of these proceedings. The officers agonized over me and numerous civilians stood around the cemetery walls observing the scene. Each would have responded identically to me had they earned my high ranking- with great power comes great death- and with respect, they crowded the centre of the town as I bid bittersweet goodbyes to Macondo, where my heroic grandfather first set foot fifty years ago. There would be no purpose in appealing a guilty verdict, because a brave man never pleads for mercy, but stoically accepts the imminence of death. I gazed upon the schoolhouse, and recalled my first experience of growth, learning, and true authority. I smiled at the thought of my tender wife, as well as the joys and the art of our lovemaking. My life was coming to its dramatic finale, but the beauty, simplicity, and painlessness of capital punishment vanquished my fear of death, and subsequently, my last few hours were a fitting ending to a pleasing life.”

The Topic of Cancer

Christopher Hitchens, one of the great intellects of our time, is extremely courageous in accepting and dealing with his cancer diagnosis. Near the end of his interview with Charlie Rose, he points out that “You should always know that your time is very limited, and you’re lucky to live in a time and place where you can be healthy until you’re sixty as I was.” Rather than cursing the fates for the pain he experiences each day, Hitchens is grateful for a lifetime of opportunities, and he has a surprisingly positive outlook. After mentioning his desire to be conscious at the moment he dies, he justifies his wish to a stupefied Rose by saying “I wouldn’t want to miss another experience… That’s very qualified when you think of how painful a cancer death can be. You might lose your ability to make an observation or lose your ability to be taking in the situation at all.” His optimism shines through, but he is still blunt and realistic about the horrors of cancer. The most intriguing section of the interview occurs when Rose prods Hitchens about oncoming mortality, his desire for knowledge, and what he plans to do with the short time he has left. Interestingly enough, Hitchens still coherently formulates political arguments, and has clearly kept up-to-date on President Obama’s agenda, but the brief period of reflection is both provocative and powerful. Keeping the end of life in mind, Hitchens is attempting to immerse himself in numerous literary masterpieces (and accentuates the fact that he is well-read by quoting famous authors throughout the interview). The primary regret he expresses is that he is unable to interact with people to the same degree that he used to, and thinks it unfortunate that “the party will go on without [him]… a horrible thought.” However, the prevailing theme is that Hitchens considers his life well lived. In conclusion, he remarks, “life is a terrible thing to waste, so I hope I haven’t wasted too much of it.” Judging by his success and resolve, which speak for themselves, Hitchens has definitely lived a remarkable life.

Given that the interview involves discussion of a life-threatening disease, there are some difficult moments, but Hitchens' authenticity and sincerity add emotional appeal. He doesn't compromise his personality or make a last-ditch religious effort, but instead shows great strength in acknowledging that his lifestyle almost certainly impacted his health. He also remains admirably low-key, and this shows him to be more concerned about living life than acting heroically for the media. At times, Hitchens is somber, but he nearly brought me to the point of laughter after having to continually point out that many provided questions were answered in his memoir, "Hitch-22", which was conspicuously located on the lap of Charlie Rose for the duration of the interview. Also, as a prominent journalist, Hitchens masterfully weaves emotions into "Topic of Cancer". It is not only poignant and heartbreaking, but is laced with dark humour. What other journalist has the moxie to critique hospital food in a cancer announcement? A major theme of the article is how he sees the tumour as a foreign invader, using a string of what Vanity Fair editors describe as "martial metaphors". The use of "alien" indicates that Hitchens is unwilling to let the tumour affect his insurmountable spirit, and in the later paragraphs, he adopts an attitude of wistfulness, which adds to the list of emotions Hitchens utilizes with great effect.

"But irony is my business and I just can't see any ironies here: would it be less poignant to get cancer on the day that my memoirs were remaindered as a box-office turkey, or that I was bounced from a coach-class flight and left on the tarmac? To the dumb question 'Why me?' the cosmos barely bothers to return the reply: Why not?"

This logical approach to life constitutes his positivity in facing the diagnosis. Instead of wallowing in self-pity, he creates counter-arguments that point out the futility of doing so. It also manages to follow a key lesson in journalism: presenting both sides of an issue. The above passage is simple, clever, powerful, and showcases Hitchens' wit and intelligence.

Green Grass, Running Water

Part A: Allusions

The predominant pop culture allusion in Green Grass, Running Water is John Wayne. Although the movie star reference is effective in relating to readers, its main purpose is to serve as a direct contrast to Lionel Red Dog. While John Wayne is courageous and self-assured, Lionel is timid and struggles to pursue opportunities outside of his mundane existence. As Lionel gradually begins to change his life for the better, he justifies his decision to walk rather than drive by claiming that this is "what John Wayne would do." (243) It is no surprise that Lionel vows to display traits of his hero, and begins to stand up for himself while gaining confidence in his own abilities and worth.

The crux of the novel's plot is that the American Indians are inclined to escape the hospital when they anticipate the arrival of disaster. The lazy Dr. Hovaugh, who is unconcerned by the patients' escape, eventually comes to the realization that the escapees are committed to fixing the world. King inserts pop cultural references, such as Wall Street, to provide the readers with an opportune comparison to the real world to properly convey the broad scope of disaster the four individuals hope to prevent.

In Green Grass, Running Water, the American Indians change their names to Hawkeye (Leatherstocking Tales), Lone Ranger (television character), Robinson Crusoe (title character in Defoe masterpiece), and Ishmael (narrator of Moby Dick). King chooses to alter these names to match the time period, and he seems to be poking fun at modern obsession with pop culture, which greatly adds to his biting, satirical style.

One of the major biblical allusions in the latter half of the novel is the Archangel Gabriel. King showcases his command of humour by introducing A.A. Gabriel (Heavenly Host) to persuade Thought Woman to verify her virginity and to have a baby, as if she is Mary, mother of Jesus. Though the encounter between Thought Woman and A.A. Gabriel is hilariously tense, King devalues the importance of the biblical figure and uses the situation to display his usual condescension towards traditional Christian beliefs.

In Part Four, Old Woman's biblical experience is related to Jesus. In yet another comedic scene, the flustered yet pompous "Young Man Walking on Water" feels obliged to rescue a group of terrified men trapped in an unstable boat in rough waves. The composed Old Woman sings the men a tune and ultimately eases the conditions. However, Jesus mocks the men for believing that a woman could save them and persuades the delusional individuals to worship and follow him. Again, King refuses to spare any biblical figures from ridicule, and the allusion manages to be controversial and thought provoking.

Part B: Character Passages

"'EARTHQUAKE, EARTHQUAKE!' yells Coyote. 'Hee-hee-hee-hee-hee-hee-hee-hee.'" (411)

Coyote's trick causes a devastating earthquake, which causes wide-reaching damage and kills Eli. This passage shows his extreme lack of consideration for humanity and his desire to play tricks regardless of the consequences.

"But he'd tell Alberta about his plans today, make sure she understood that he could make decisions." (242)

This brief statement gives the reader an impression of many of Lionel Red Dog's personal characteristics: his respect for women and his struggles with insecurity and indecisiveness. By all means, Lionel would be considered an excellent boyfriend and is extraordinarily respectful towards Alberta despite her inability to return his ardour. However, while engaged in a competition for Alberta's heart, he constantly worries about what she thinks of him, and attempts to impress her on several occasions. While Lionel would consider the three unfortunate events as contributors to his lack of success, his indecisiveness renders him stuck in a dead-end job selling televisions.

"Eli had to admit that after all the years of arguments and threats and injunctions, he had won very little... the sluice gates would open, the turbines would begin to turn, and Eli and the house would be washed out onto the prairies. But not now. Not tomorrow." (260)

This scene shows Eli Stand Alone's courage in the face of adversity. The dimwitted Clifford Sifton (appropriately named after the immigration enthusiast interior minister) visits Eli each day to encourage him to vacate his home so the government can construct a dam. Eli refuses, as he is willing to sacrifice his own life to maintain Native traditions. Ultimately, he passes away during the earthquake, but his relatives and colleagues notice that the water returned to its original path.

Three Day Road

Although Joseph Boyden's novel Three Day Road is a superb depiction of soldiers' experiences during World War One and presents a riveting plot, the main focus is on the character development and friendship between Xavier Bird and Elijah Whiskeyjack. In the latter half of the chapter "Windigo Killer," (263-268) we learn the origin of their friendship, and how they needed each other's support throughout their lives. For 262 pages, through stories of their teenage life and wartime experiences, I longed for a scene about their meeting, assuming it would be entertaining. The brief six page scene is simple, yet it manages to satisfy readers and provide a form of justification for Xavier's frustrations.

He knew little of the bush, and I watched proudly as you taught him, Nephew. And how he liked to talk! For hours he could talk about anything, the stars, the rivers, the school, the people that he knew, places he didn't know, far away across the ocean. Late each night I would fall asleep to his chatter. You lay beside him, Nephew, your eyes opened wide as you listened to his stories. (267)

This excerpt marks the initiation of the long journey between the two friends. Without their meeting, Elijah would never have acquired several skills or the discipline that Xavier epitomizes. The restless Xavier may have struggled to enjoy his life, entrapped in a dull existence with Niska. Moreover, using war as a vehicle, Boyden skillfully portrays the ephemeral nature of friendship, and how one's indiscreet behaviour can tear apart steadfast relationships.

The scene is relevant to the entirety of Three Day Road, as the friendship is the foundation of the novel. In a non-linear narrative, the scene can be specifically applied to the next chapter, in which Xavier and Elijah fight in Lens. The once innocent young men have been ruined by the horrors they have encountered on the battlefield. Elijah is broken down by morphine, boasts about his sniping ability, and feels no shame in devouring Germans. Xavier phlegmatically toils through each and every day, and becomes depressed and isolated from his fellow soldiers.

A series of profound questions arise from this scene. Would the two young men be better off on their own? Can their relationship still be constituted as one of friends? Is Elijah correct in taking desperate measures to survive, or is Xavier respectable for maintaining a strict sense of ethics? The meeting is generally not considered to be one of the most memorable scenes in the novel, but is decidedly significant in dictating the path of Three Day Road.

The Boy in the Moon

I arrived in East York via subway expecting a routine community service trip. Typically, the RSGC crowd arrives to compile the necessary hours, feigns interest and compassion, and leaves without being profoundly impacted. L'Arche was completely different, and ten colleagues and I left the chapel into the blustery November night having been emotionally touched. Everything suddenly seemed clearer, the music was louder, and I was grateful for every opportunity I presently had. There were no hokey, contrived scenarios created for us, but a brief video on the heroic Jean Vanier and a weekly, informal chapel service for the inhabitants of the home provided us with a unique and heartwarming experience. What struck me was the lack of self-pity the mentally disabled individuals had. Nearly every community member contributed to prayers by wishing well for their parents, or for a peer who was preparing to undergo surgery. I felt experiences with the mentally disabled would be impossible to describe in words, but Ian Brown's piercing novel The Boy in the Moon does just that, making for a thought provoking and compelling read.

Brown makes very interesting observations of L'Arche communities in Montreal and France. He arrives under full knowledge that Walker is far too young for the exclusively adult environment, and notes the gargantuan waiting list. Skepticism seems to be the tone throughout most of chapter eleven, yet Brown emerges impressed and impacted by L'Arche.

"Surrounded for the first time in my life by intellectually disabled adults I had only just met, I suddenly realized I didn't feel nervous." (190) In the company of members of the L'Arche community, Brown is surprised to feel comfortable. He is also impressed by how well the church service functions and quickly agrees that Vanier's concept of giving the disabled a place of their own "was an idea I thought I could get behind." (196)

The peace in the L'Arche environment is almost overwhelming for Brown at times, which gives him a positive impression of what life would be like for Walker. "Had they been smoking kindness?" (197) Additionally, for several pages, he is in awe of some of the ideas presented by Vanier. Once Brown opens up to discuss means of communication with Walker, Vanier asks a profound question to which Brown reveals "I stared at him. I had no answer." (208) Although Brown can never fully wrap his head around the unique aspects of L'Arche, Vanier's thoughts greatly appeal to him. Ultimately, he learns from the disabled individuals in the same manner as he does from Walker, and mentions that "they reminded me not to be ashamed." (219)

When my family owned a house in Maryland, one of our family friends had a mentally disabled son, who came to visit us quite often. I could only build a vague idea of the situation at hand. Ian Brown spares no details in the memoirs, and these helped me to understand what life with a profoundly disabled child would be like.

Having to endure life with Walker constantly taxed Ian Brown and the rest of his family. The boy poses many difficulties that one would never dream of. In the first few pages of the novel, Brown describes Walker punching himself in the head, having to feed him through an IV stand, the process of changing diapers, and the bottle ritual. The endless work Brown needed to perform to ensure the safety of an eight-year old boy was unimaginably trying and required incredible commitment. He was also forced to deal with a difficult question: "What is the value of a life like his- a life lived in the twilight, and often in pain?" (3) In what I felt was far and away the most eye-opening and disturbing scene of the novel, Ian and Johanna discuss tests that reveal potential defects. "'If there'd been a test when I was pregnant that revealed what Walker's life would have been like, I would have had the abortion.'" (181) The mere concept that Walker's parents will never know what goes through his mind, or what their lives would have been like without him is shocking.

1) If Walker were to be fully functional for ten minutes, what would be one question you would ask him?

2) What regrets do you have in the manner that you raised Walker?

3) Without the presence of Walker, do you think that Hayley's life would have been better and more fulfilling?

Chillingly Good

This past December, I read "Dead Cold," a highly engrossing crime fiction novel written by the talented Louise Penny. The story boasted an intriguing plot, entertaining characters, and a classic whodunit style that many critics claimed to resemble the form of Agatha Christie. In this blog entry, I will comment on the character development, motivation, and use of humour in "Dead Cold."

"Calm was not a word anyone would apply to CC de Poitiers, despite her placid, frozen exterior." (3) Penny takes an interesting approach to the description of the featured antagonist in Three Pines. Not only does CC possess the usual cruelty, she is physically daunting and highly unlikable.

"For Ruth Zardo, dull was one of the greatest insults. It ranked right up there with kind and nice." (97) This quotation summarizes Ruth's bold personality, and conveys her eccentric manner and cynical mindset. Ironically, she acts as a capable firefighter for the village, and provides invaluable emergency assistance in the fire at Saul Petrov's estate and of course, in the death of CC de Poitiers.

"But while Clara knew (replacing the old windows) was the sensible thing to do, most of her decisions weren't really sensible. But they suited her life." (9) Clara Morrow is a talented artist and kind person, but she underestimates her own poise and abilities. She lacks proper self-confidence, clings to unrealistic dreams, and acts helpless when dealing with everyday decisions.

"His body spoke of meals enjoyed and a life of long walks rather than contact sports." (66) Immediately, the reader is aware of Gamache's grace. This simplistic sentence gives us a great understanding of his physique, and provides an early glimpse of the detective's professionalism.

Without uttering a single word in "Dead Cold," Crie decidedly emerges as the most powerful character. The obese, unwanted, somber, yet brilliant girl is not someone you would expect to methodically plan a murder, but motivation is what carries her through life. Unfortunately, she deeply craves respect from her incapable mother CC and strives to gain respect from peers.

"The other girls' mothers had helped them, but Crie had done her own. To surprise Mommy, she'd told herself, trying to drown out the other voice." (8) This quotation shows that Crie went out of her way to make her snowball costume, persistent in hopes of finally impressing her mother. However, her continued hope begins to backfire. Eventually, Crie briefly displays a previously unknown vocal talent, but is scorned by her mother in front of the entire village.

"'Everyone was staring at you. You humiliated me... Are you crazy, Crie? Is that it? Is that it?'" (49) Once Crie realized her desire to receive some form of love from her mother would never be founded, she likely constructed her plans for murder, and did so with brilliance extending past her "Straight A" grades.

"'You're wrong there,' said Ruth, following Myrna's gaze. 'This used to be my drug of choice. In my teens my drug of choice was acceptance, in my twenties it was approval, in my thirties it was love, in my forties it was Scotch. That lasted a while,' she admitted. 'Now all I really crave is a good bowel movement." (55) In the midst of a natural conversation, Penny incorporated a great deal of humour, making a common situation entertaining for readers. The comedic elements of "Dead Cold" are never forced, which allows for a more realistic and enjoyable read.

"Toss a toaster into your spouse's bath these days and all you'll get is a blown fuse, a ruined appliance and a very pissed-off sweetheart." (77) While Gamache peruses evidence, Penny prevents monotony by engaging readers with hilarious imagery that incorporates electrocution, and this bright moment sets the tone for the breathtaking mystery "Dead Cold."

By Nick Medline