Task 39. Blood Meridian and The End

Part 1
My favourite extract was Cormac Macarthys Blood Meridian. I was really chilled by the cold and clinical definite article he used for 'the child'. This reflected the description of the cold upbringing and also, i feel, added tension to the piece. If this was the beginning of the book, i'll presume it is, it was a brilliant way of starting. I paticularly liked the way he summed the character of the child up in a short exerpt. This, for me, is a relief because i can't bear the brussel sprouts before the meat.


Part 2
The End. (This is meant to be read aloud)

Each beat hit the floor running. Rippling through the souls of every bystander, cutting through the tension and loosening inhibitions. There isn’t a place for alcohol here. Soulless people aren’t allowed. You can speak softly here, but most prefer to shout
Loud
And
Proud.
Each ender has no reason. That’s the reason they come. They don’t seek applause or appraisal. They judge each other by just one thing.
Their love for love.
If beats aren’t rippling they’ll make their own. In this franchise of frivolity each crowd is alone. Each mistake is forgot. No one has a stake in what this lot do.
No one.
Some Enders say that it’s a state of mind... It’s just a house built on an old quarry really.
But soon they will find, that happiness, freedom and peace don’t come without planning permission.

Bureaucrats wince through their monocle at The End. Their spectacles skew the image:
They mistake purple for grey
They mistake orange for grey
They mistake yellow for grey.
Each clone is an individual and each individual is an enemy.
Each one would distort creativity and at the end put a word completely out of context just so it would rhyme, like…
Lemony.
They wait in the bushes. They leave their mother earth insurance details by the crushed flowers. When they fight and they wreck, the Enders can’t do anything.
After all they have the system by the
Scruff of its neck.

Task 39

Part 1

I thought that the 4th excerpt was the most interesting one because of its layout. It kind of like gives a point example explanation using each paragraphs making an even bigger paragraph. Also usually when authors tend to go on they make you lose track, but this piece was different since it has the different mini points splitting the whole thing up making it seem small.

Part 2

The beginning of the end – contradictory but it still makes sense.

The End. The end is to be as glorious as the beginning. We have to finish with style as many would say. So the day started as normal – me struggling out of bed- I went to the bathroom and performed my daily rituals of having a shower, having breakfast and brushing my teeth. Everybody else was already up and full; but my dad was the only one who was fully ready. The rest of us got ready eventually; and as usual I was the last to wake up, but the first to get ready and to wait by the door. We finally got out and walked to the bus stop; but instead of the usual knowing where to go, this time we had no idea what we were doing next; I mean of course we knew that our final destination for that morning was to be ‘La Grande Mosque de Paris’ to pray the sacred Friday prayer, but how to get there was a mystery. So time went by and with a lot of help from people and signs we eventually reached the street on which the great mosque was; however we knew suddenly that there was something unusual going on, well for starters the police searched our bags before we down the street. Then we found out that the mosque was closed – why I hear you ask, well I don’t know, nobody knows to be honest; many stories but I doubt any are true- so we ended up going back the way we started.

* * * * * * * * * * *

The end of the end- you savor your last moments like they’re the only thing you could ever want.

When we got home my little sister could finally be let loose. My mother kept stressing; ‘we are going to be so late and your not even caring’ she said that as if she was about to cry. My dad only gave the soft reply of ‘everything is going to be fine, don’t worry honey, everything would go as God planned’; and on that note my cousin came in, as if playing a rehearsed scene. He came in with a look of determination in his face, ready for what he was going to do next.

* * * * * * * * * * *

You plan. God plans. And only what God plans becomes the future. – a famous Muslim saying

We had such luck with the bus and we found the train waiting for us at the station. Everything was going as planned, well that was until we reached the train’s third stop that‘s when everything started going wrong, the train would stop at each station for 10 minutes at least.
Then the worst thing happened when we got to the Eurostar station. We missed the train. The first thing that came to my head at that moment was ‘we were all planning to go to England that day, but it was God’s plan for us to stay one more night in France and in the end his way was our present then’ and my memory of France now.

Task 39 - The End

Part 1
A Concise Chinese-English Dictionary for Lovers by Xiaolu Gou
I chose A Concise Chinese-English Dictionary fot Lovers because this excerpt out of the four excerpts is funny and quite amusing. I liked the way Xiaolu Gou makes spelling mistakes purposely shows us that the person doesn't know proper English. In his writing he shows us that England is very complicated and an expensive place to live in. Xiaolu Gou made you want to read more and kept us wanting more.

Part 2
The END.....
The day had come..... where everyone in year six were leaving primary school were and moving to secondary school. Everyone was gathering up all the years work to take home for memory. Their were many children crying, weeping hysterically on the teacher's shoulders about the fact they don't want to leave primary school and go to secondary school because the older kids will bully them.

It was time to say our goodbyes to our teachers and classmates it was getting very emotional and a tear came pouring out my eyes.

I knew my year has end and we won't be the oldest in school anymore more like the opposites , we all in year six were going to go to a brand new school where are friends most likely will not go.

It was an end and a brand new beginning.

Task 39

Excerpt: The Big Sur by Jack Kerouac

I particularly enjoyed this excerpt the most as to me it really stood out with the varied syntax and sentence structure. Instantly switching from super long 3 line sentences to a few words reflects and emphasises very much on his perhaps raceyness and uncertainty - we can even possibly imagine him saying this in real life. I think that this sort of effect added a sort of somewhat realism about the play, even if the story itself seemed to not be genuinely realistic. However, this contrast between the actually storyline and the realism in which it was written seems to be very effective, as the reader is able to engage and relate to situation - even if they had not been there themselves. I also think this fitted in with the actual theme and dramatic effect of the play as a whole as it shows sometimes that maybe words can show the seriousness of an issue. The occasional tense sense was also a bit hard to follow at times, presumably as it was done deliberately to get the reader to focus harder on the story to represent that things were not as simple as they seemed? Overall a good exerpt that really kept in touch with the reader.



The End

It was dark. I unknowingly entered the pitch black hole of darkness I would forever be trapped in. I looked around for help... there was no sign of humanity. Where was I? How had I allowed myself to get here? I looked around. I saw nothing. An empty street with empty hearts... I could hear it in the obstinate silence. I looked up to see a star. Mum would tell me when I was younger that by looking up at star I'd find a guardian angel to set me free, and to show me the light. She was wrong. This isn't a fairytale. This is a walking deathtrap inviting me along for the thrill. There isn't any thrills here though. I am alone... away from home. Just not in the zone. I wondered what Mum would think of me now. I looked out to see a car; shiny, headlights on - completely unaware. Breaks at the ready I heard them screech before I even heard myself think. Silence.

Task 39

Opening 2

“Big Sur”,most of the time, seemed quite unorthodox and unique from many of the writing styles I have witnessed before. Kerouac’s constant switch from present to future tense slightly confuses reader, this effect is then compounded further by his withholding of details about the “City” and “Billie”, and perhaps he does this purposely in order to provoke the reader’s yearning for more feeling. Also within the extract, there are monumental amounts of hyphens, these seem to dictate the direction of the story and reveal his state of mind.

The End
I lay in the slimy, dark trench hoping to god that it would end soon. The sky an impenetrable, thick, smoggy grey with the earth a prominent foul, green vein dug into the field. Larry was on hand, cursing and firing into the misty land of No Man’s, my hand trembled as I aimed into the oblivious fog hoping that it would catch an unsuspecting soldier in the chest-I could only think about that at the time- my eyes were straining out of the tight-fitting sockets to see across but in no succession. The camouflaged battle of Italian and English bullets colliding in such flamboyant fashion proved more than I could handle.
I slouched back down onto the ever damp trench with only my M1 to console my mental wounds, I turned my head to see Miles clutching at his chest in utter desperation to stem the flow of the ever valuable, vital ruby liquid mercilessly gushing out of the 2mm gap. My breath felt heavy, and with each one I could see the soul’s of my comrades floating their way up to this supposed “heaven”. I now awaited the inevitable order of “Charge!” so that I could at last be reunited with my brother in arms Miles. The sky cringed and contracted a deep, jet black touch and with that came the furious thunder bolts of Zeus, the dust settled, we could see our enemies, they could see us, yet we were all helplessly staring at the living, breathing sky. “Charge!”. Our sergeant had made the call, there would be no time for us to think, he says jump we say how high, I clambered over the barriers and made my way manoeuvring round the cups that lay imprinted on the battle field. We could see our foe, I mounted my spear with my right hand, and tightly clenched onto the M1 with the left, meter by meter we were approaching, my mind was a total mess but I had no time to regroup, my body was fully prepared and immediately reacted.

The End

Part 1.

For my first part of Task 39, I have decided to analyse Xiaolu Guo's 'A Concise Chinese-English Dictionary For Lovers'. This piece exploits the common misconception 'Bigger is better'. By deconstructing the previously 'flawless' English language Xiaolu practically eliminates all elements of cliché that could potentially threaten this piece. By utilising the language defect present in this character the whole idea of 'show not tell' is automatically incorporated, the reader automatically decrypts the protagonist's story, then rebuilds it to match his/her exacting specifications. In the second part of this story however, we are violently jolted out of the comfortably lackadaisical mindset we have now adopted. The story suddenly increases in body. We find out about how the immigrant protagonist seeks ways to support her parents back in china, and how the clear clash in cultures is clearly affecting him/her. For all these reason and more, 'A Concise Chinese-English Dictionary For Lovers' has influenced me most.





Cap-tiv-i-ty (Kap-tiv-i-te)
n. pl. cap-tiv-i-ties
The state or period of being imprisoned, confined, or enslaved.

Some say the end is just the beginning. I can't see how that would apply to my situation.

The unforgiving torture of self-insanity gnaws at what precious little there is left of my inner control. These walls crudely scarred my perception on life long ago. I warn you, what is left of me now is far from desirable, attractive and by now means preferable. Rehabilitated? Institutionalisation leaves me debilitated.

The walls cry ever marked glossy white tears, The floor sometimes cracks under expectations to preform and from time to time The old fabric chairs sometimes let out a cry of desperation for a new beginning. For they know I will eventually meet my end.

I seek no solace, I need no strife, all I want is to live my life. I can't. Deemed as mentally unstable I indulge in the comforts I have left. Sometimes my companions will present themselves on the rubber plant beside my bed. They watch, with microscopic expression, then disappear like a figment of my imagination. But why will you think me mad?

Her rubber-clad hands will occasionally throw a rope from the path of sanity, yet my hands are incapable of utilising any form of grip. Disregarded, she begins the chemical attack on what could once be loosely confirmed as a mattress, her mouth will expel Korma-Flavoured carbon dioxide into mine, I embrace it whilst i still can. She hearkens to the beacons of folderol that the creature beside me will provide, she bellows a barotonic chorus in perfect synchronisation. He is left willingly overcome.

My time here is nearly over. I like to think I'll go out with a bang, a flash of lights and a flurry of attention. Real rock 'n' Roll, you know? Truth is I was never capable of kicking up such a fuss, never will be. Not now anyway. Incapacitated by a crippling truth I should have accepted long ago. It's too late now. My time came waltzing by long ago.

Some say the end is just the beginning...

Task 3

Part 1-A Concise Chinese-English Dictionary For Lovers

This extract was very hilarious. I enjoyed it a lot. The writer used spelling mistakes to show that character did not know how to speak English.

Is unbelievabal, Heathlow Airport

The writer also made sentences not make sense for the same reason.

I feel little criminal but I doing nothing wrong so far. My English so bad.

I also liked the way it used the dictionary to show the definition of alien to start the story. It makes the reader want to read on. That’s what happened to me however it is only an extract.


Part 2 The End

Tension and nervousness began to spread around the room very easily. The room was completely quite except for the fidgeting with pens and pencils. Today was the day to see if all my hard work paid off. Today was the last day we were taking our GCSE’s. We were doing the last English GCSE test. I sat in the 4rth row facing the window. I was hoping badly that the topic would be autobiographies as I am really good at them. When Mr. Harrison finished handing the paper he said not to touch them and listen. As usual he was going to say his speech about cheating in a test and consequences, disqualifications and all of the test stuff. As soon as he finished he asked us to start. Surprisingly, it was autobiographies and we had to write about ourselves, our family and our achievements throughout our life.


I was the first one to finish, so I checked my work over and over again.
A month later when I got my results, I knew that all the hard work paid off in my exams as I got good results. That was The End of the hard work and exhaustion I went through, now it is time to rest.

The End

Part 1

I liked 'A Concise Chinese-English Dictionary For Lovers by Xiaolu Guo' the most because I found it the most interesting piece. I liked the way that the writer would use one word and base a little scenario around that one word. I feel that this technique goes successfully with the storyline and is a very original and creative way to tell a story.

Part 2

End

End it. He said. Whatever the cost, just end it. I want you and only you; we don’t need this right now.
Easy for him to say. It’s only been a couple of days but I kind of got used to the idea. It gave a meaning to my life. Not that I wasn’t happy before but this was a little bonus. My life was complete. I didn't need anything else.

“Look we can’t afford it right now.”
“We’ll get through it. I know we can.”
“With what? Shirt buttons? I’ve had to cut down on them too.”
“ So you expect me to...”
“Look babe. I know it’s hard but we’ll get through this…like we always do...we’re a ...team. A team. It is the right choice. We’ll go tomorrow and end it. Simple”

Simple. Just end it. It. It could be a ...there’s no point thinking even about 'it'.

“I’m not going through with it. I can’t”
“ We might as well get out the cardboard boxes because that’s what will happen.”
“Don’t be silly-“
“Silly. You’re the silly one. How many times-“
“Look we’re a team. We’ll manage-“
“No we won’t. If it’s not gone by the end of the week, there is not team. End it or we’re through.You're on your own.”

End it or we’re through. I don’t think the protesters can call me selfish now. I mean I’m the one that is going through the pain. Physically and emotionally. I just hope that it is just two pills and nothing more. Two pills. The End.

Task 39

Excerpt 4 – “The Book Thief” by Markus Zusak
I would like to begin my analysis by praising Mr. Zusak for his marvellously beautiful piece on the tabooed topic of death. There is something magical about his writing; is it the intimate way he converses with the reader (When I started reading, Markus painted a picture in my mind of two men lounging outside a café, drinking coffee and casually discussing death as if it were politics; I personally think it is rare to have such an abstract scene conjured where there aren’t obvious protagonists) or is it the pleasant mixture of philosophy and wit, with a distinct dash of humour? He hasn’t added too much absent - mindedness, which I’m sure would dilute the intended seriousness of his work. This would therefore result in a downgrade to its excellence. Another amazing factor of his writing is the amount we find out about this persona he is portraying: God may be all – powerful, but he almost looks down at us humans with little appraise and has hints of pompousness and vanity that dominate his character. It isn’t too perceivable that the protagonist is God, yet when you understand the essence of Markus' thinking, you appreciate the fact that you were told with the subtleness it deserves. Overall, I feel it is an exceptional extract with such an unpredictable plot you are left craving more of Zusak’s originality and charm!

The End: A Lily Who Once Lived
“Go and sit down, Millie, Oliver. And be quiet. The service is about to start.”
“Mummy, can we have a snowball fight outside?”
“Later. When we get home.”
Alicia turned around; called by the infancy and innocence in their voices and the maternal happiness of a young mother. Alicia watched as a scene shoved into the very back of her mind came alive again; replayed right in front of her eyes. The woman, pushing a pram, ushered her two children over to where Alicia was sitting in her pew.
“Take your coats off, darlings.” Her smile said it all. Elation sealed into every minuscule line on her lips.
Mothers take these precious moments for granted. The future is something we never think about. It’s the present that matters. You don’t think about how many more winters you will live to see with your loved one. Or how many more photos of you together will be treasured in the family photo album. It’s only until the days expire, it’s only until the clock strikes that very second, it’s only until life’s last links clasp hand – in - hand that the future for you and your family is your sole concern. Thinking back sixteen years ago, when she was only four, I wonder if my eyes glowed with pride when she found her first ladybird in the garden. I wonder if I laughed when she anatomised that slice of Mr. Kipling’s Battenberg cake. Of course I did. I remember she carefully took off the thick layer of marzipan, separated the pink and yellow dyed sponge cuboids and excavated the thin coating of apricot jam; licking her fingers contentedly as a result. I then walked into the kitchen. She stared; looking mischievous, yet coaxing me to believe that she wasn’t the perpetrator of the crime. The big tell - tale sign was the snowfall of sugar sprinkled on her arms. We both ended up chuckling together in unison. She was an angel from up above: an angel called early to the seraphic infinity of the heavens.
I also wonder if Grace, my beautiful, irreplaceable Grace, giggled at the sight of her very own snow angel. And did she sneeze as a snowball melted into her French rose mittens? Of course she did. She was like any four – year old. Audacious and cheeky. Years had rolled by and she had blossomed into a young adult. Like a lily. Grace used to love lilies. Right up until that the day she disappeared. She didn’t want to go missing. She didn’t have a choice. She was murdered. That’s why I am here today. To pray that Grace and our family are given justice. He still roams free, living. While we are imprisoned in a limbo of unanswered questions. While my daughter’s body is no where to be found. All I want to do is lay flowers on her grave, but how can I when I have no idea where her grave is? She didn’t deserve to be treated like that. Like an animal.
Alicia looked up from her current position of staring down at her hands. She gazed at the church hall: holly and tinsel and mistletoe. Blinding slashes of gold and red and green; all concocting a feeling of festive spirit. Families were preparing for the church service and choirs were assembling themselves in an orderly fashion; a small group of children were briefly rehearsing their hymns and prayers. A young woman walked past Alicia, dressed in the customary church attire: a long black skirt and a lilac blouse. Her chestnut brown hair was squashed in a tight bun. Alicia intuitively shot up out of her pew, stumbling over the mother’s pram. Her heart was galloping; legs lifeless but able to run that one step closer.
It’s her. She’s not –
Alicia clamped her hand down on the woman’s shoulder. She turned around; bewildered.
“Oh, I’m, um, really sorry. I thought you were someone else, I -”
“Are you alright?”
Alicia broke down crying. A year’s worth of torment came spilling out of her eyes. Almost like a milk bottle left out in the cold for days on end. When milk solidifies, its capacity expands and it yearns to be liberated. One day or another, it will explode; its contents as easy to read as an open book.
“What’s wrong?” She gently put her arm around Alicia.
“Nothing. I’m fine!” she shouted. She pushed her out of her way and ran out of the chapel, away from the gossiping of the church - goers, their ears eagerly attentive to get the inside story; away from the stiff upper - lipped woman who resent people "airing their dirty laundry" in public. Once outside, Alicia fell onto the blanket of snow, hands hiding her face, knees saturated with melted ice.
She knew Grace was gone. She knew the truth. She laid on the cold snow, succumbing to the desperate need to cry.
It's time to let go. I will never again have her in my arms. But it isn't over yet. I'm going to put that Satan in prison if it is the last thing I do. I'm going to give Grace what she deserves: justice. Whatever it takes, blood, sweat or tears - I'm doing this for my daughter. Grace - the lily who once lived. . .

The End

Task 1- From Big Sur

I chose Big Sur as i felt it engaged the reader and made them think. This is shown by the main characters own confusion ("...all's well again.i still cant understand it"). I also like the way Kerouac keeps refering to things being golden which encapsulates the thoughts of the characters feelings and optimism. And finally I think the way in which we are always told the characters thoughts and feelings gives us a sense of understanding as to how they think and the reasons behind what they think.

Task 2
It was Valentines day and i had decided to treat my wife to breakfast in bed. Jill hadn't been well recently and i felt now was the perfect time to treat her. I had woken early in order to prepare this, yet somehow the toast was still burnt and there was no milk. Regardless, a collection of cereals and several cartons of fruit juice now meant I had something which resembled a breakfast.

The distinctive smell and brilliant white walls greeted me as I reached the top of the stairs, and gazed into the room infront of me. All appeared calm, yet the breeze still lingered and rippled through my hair as I stood there, steadying my anxiety with a reassuring smile before opening the door. the bed, table I placed the tray of food on the end of her bed before resuming my position beside her, it was then i realised I had forgotten the tea. Leaning over, I kissed her cheek. Her face felt cold, yet i thought nothing of it at the time and returned to the kitchen without a second though. The kettle had just began to howl when a loud scream erupted. I dropped the mug and ran several steps up at a time when nurses from every ward began to scurry into a room, like mice fleeing a deranged woman carrying a mop. When I reached the top I saw them surrounding a lifless body as though mourners at a funeral. It was Jill. My eyes suddenly began to swell as water slowly leaked from them I could no longer hear the crys or smell the disenfectent. My wife was gone. What had meant to be a routine check up was now the end; the end of our marriage, the end of my wife and the end of me. A white screen was now projected in my mind and i suddenly felt the roller-coaster affect as my body tumbled backwards...

When i was told, we would have to live at the hospital while my wife recieved her chemotherapy i never expected that it would be where we would both die for it symbolized hope. Yet clearly the strain of the treatment had been to much for her, and the shock of her death to much for me. It seemed cupid had struck his bow of love directly at my heart as I now had my final wish: to be with my wife. My heart attack was quick and as for the blood from my fall down the stairs, i think some Vanish should get rid of that.

The End

Part 1-A Concise Chinese-English Dictionary For Lovers

I found this extract quite funny. I liked the way Xiaolu Guo has written this piece. Hi style of writing is quite amusing and makes you want to read more. I think the way Xiaolu Guo has added spelling mistakes really gives us the feeling that the character does not know English. I also liked the way how he has taken a perfectly normal situation and turned it into something funny. This extract was fun to read.


The End...

I stared at the man who would snatch my life away from me. The man who thought he had the right to go against god and do as he pleased. The very creature who also killed my friend 5 minutes ago. He smiled a vile, crooked smile. “Where is the box?” he asked. He had asked this very same question before he killed my friend. I hesitated then answered, “I will never tell a filthy scum like you! Never do you hear me? I’d rather die!” My voice came out in a mumbled scream. The man laughed and then spoke again, “Oh come on sweet pea. It would be such a waste to kill a beautiful little thing like you. Go on tell me where the box is.” I stared at him with blatant disgust. How could he say such a thing?

My silence got the better of him. “Just tell me where the damn box is or I’ll shoot!” he shouted. I kept quiet. The other men had huge grins glued to their faces. I suppose it was because I was going to die and they sensed my fear. Fear was the key to keeping them happy, that and whatever else they wanted. My mind was in two places, indecision. I could tell them where the box was and live or I could not tell them and definitely die. If I did tell them where it was, innocent people would die. Die because of me.

I closed my eyes and drew in a deep breath. “I will not tell you. I will never tell you. I am the only surviving person who knows where it is, and if you do not kill me I will,” I said slowly and clearly. The time ticked on, and then he finally answered coldly, “Fine.” With that, he drew out his gun. I guessed that if he was not going to get what he wanted, then he would kill me himself out of pure anger. I closed my eyes once again. The last thing I heard was the bullet pierce through my heart. I saw my vision blur then turn black. I felt myself leaving my body, felt the pain from each bullet. I saw my life flash before my eyes. Then I knew I was dead. This was the end.

Task 39; The End

Blood Meridian by Cormac McCarthy

McCarthy’s syntax is what stood out for me, because although he is narrating a ‘predawn dark’ and ‘sinister’ ‘world’, he does so effortlessly, like breathing. Each sentence varies in length to give a flare to his writing: ‘see the child’ is a fantastic opening, three words that can open so many doors to so many possibilities, without the need of anything complex. The excerpt is written to seem like a long list of description rather than a narrative piece of prose, which brings to it a unique bluntness that escalates the empathy we feel for this ‘thin’ ‘child’. The strong emotive language he uses, ‘oddly innocent’ with a ‘shadowed agony’, helps to create the idea of a ‘bleeding’ ‘mankind’; one that this young boy has had to cope with over ‘fourteen years’ (‘night of your birth’, ‘a year later’, ‘forty two days’) – time also helps to paint this ‘predawn dark’.
As always, simplicity can be the key and McCarthy demonstrates a mixture of it and the above devices to create a special style of storytelling.

The End

There is nothing left. Just a shell. Just an empty phlegmatic shell. I look into his eyes and they are frozen; caught up in the bloody blaze of 1971. He sits there, all day. So long has he been staring that his eyes are now grey like the panes of my windows. My father was once a brave man. Now he is a lost one. He does not breathe. He does not move. He does not eat. Just sits. Sits like he sat in the throne aboard the flying castle. His beautiful flying castle. Twenty years was not enough to shake away the shock. I still bathe him. I still change him. Still I can not wake him up from his around the clock nightmare. When he sleeps, his eyes will dart from left to right in a constant jive. He is avoiding the incoming fire in his dreams. He will die soon, in his head. The end will come when he gets shot.

I have tried. Tried to speak to him, talk into the ears that are muffled with gunfire, tried to revive the previous sense that he's misplaced, tried to feed him, help him, wake him up and find my brilliant father in that hollow emptiness. Nothing. Now he is just a body, an old body. He is trapped in Vietnam, unable to reopen the portal.

I found him last night. Shaking uncontrollably.
I’m in the hospital now. Shaking uncontrollably.

The doctor is nice. He says that he will help him. I do not believe that he can. My clothes are two days old. My hair is greasy and unwashed. My mind is with my father who can not stop shaking his right arm. He is still empty. Like the inside of a termite infested tree trunk. The doctor has given him drugs to make him sleep. He will wake up screaming for his General.
I am almost his shade of sugar white. I dare not close my eyes in case my father trips over death’s foot and is not able to get up again. I dare not imagine what my mother would say, her black onyx hair on fire like orange topaz.

I dare not imagine what will happen to my father when he finally falls out of his flying castle.

Task 39 - The End

I chose excerpt 4 because I thought it was very original and with the first three sentences it grabs the reader’s attention. “First the colors, then the humans,” the reader starts thinking about why the human is next and wants to read on to find out. I really love the way how the author is direct to its reader, “you will know me well enough,” it gives the reader little clues throughout the story. I like the way in which the author keeps a focus on the ‘colors’ and makes it more important than anything else, “I make it a point to notice them.” “Who could ever replace me,” I like the way in which Zusak tries to get the reader involve in the story by making them think with the questions, “what does he need a distraction from?”


Would you have taken the step?

It wasn’t my idea, but do I still take the blame? The floor had a soft texture but I still felt the roughness digging slowly into my feet. I stood there. The colour on the wall absorbed the silence that was in the room. I could still sense it.

One step then another but the second falls deeper. The light in the room made a beautiful friendship with the silence that was present. They made the perfect bond. Wouldn’t you agree with me? Or perhaps you wouldn’t know. You weren’t the one standing there and you weren’t the one who took the step.

I made the move but don’t be mad at me, please don’t. One step will naturally follow into another one. Once you have chosen to be the follower then the word ‘regret’ shouldn’t be allowed to be yours anymore. You would lose the right to ever move your lips in the form of that word.

I could see it, it weren’t too far away. I didn’t decide the next step; that happened on its own, completely, will you trust me? He once did.

Being normal, that word didn’t have an existence in my mind; I nearly forgot the meaning of it. There is no end to normal, it only has beginnings. You would see yourself at the beginning once you reached the last step, the final step.

Red became the colour of the wall and the voice of the silence; that was my last view of the room.

Task 39

A Concise Chinese-English Dictionary For Lovers by Xiaolu Guo:
This text was incredibly hilarious. I absolutely loved the way the writer made the characters personal mistakes really quite amusing. I also liked the way the writer added deliberate spelling mistakes, to really show that the characters first language is not English. I think this is a perfect way to start a story because it instantly catches the reader’s attention and makes them want to read more. I thought that it used the show and not tell technique incredibly well! Another technique used was to give less description but to keep it short, sophisticated and funny. The author also kept it to the point which didn’t make the story drag on. The writer didn’t keep suspense but it did keep me interested in a way that I wanted to know more about the character. I loved this excerpt it kept me entertained through-out!!! It was marvellously funny!

The Beginning
You start the competition by speedily swimming through the blood stream, competing with the millions of contenders. If victorious, you will win yourself life. You are in the lead. Life is in sight. A few more strokes and you will make it, you will win yourself life. You have to do it; you’ve made it so far, if you give up now, you will be losing a chance of existence. You have to make it to that finish line. You have been given this chance, don’t lose it.
You cross the finish line. Victory. Out four hundred million, you made it, you came out triumphant. That is an achievement in its self. In return you will be given the gift of life. You l find yourself in a luxurious hotel called the womb. You have found what is to be your home. This is where you are to eat, grow and become a human; this will be where you will stay for 9 months. But this is only the beginning, who knows where life will take you…

The End
You’re looking straight at death. Your eyes are pinned on death. You are looking at a pistol, a pistol aimed to eradicate you. You are standing completely motionless in this lonesome London night as if your feet were nailed down to the ground. In your heavy mind, you are constantly going over how you are going to be shot, “will they aim to my head and detonate my brain or will they cut corners and aim for my heart and snatch my existence.” Yet your heart feels fear, it’s pumping faster and faster, you begin to go tenser and tenser. Your eyes deep blue portrays an immense amount of panic. You never thought this is how you were to die.

The vile crook asks the same question you’ve heard 10 times in the longest 10 minutes of your life, “Give me your money, NOW, or I’ll blow up your brains.” You hesitantly take out your phone and place it on his grim, grubby hands. But that doesn’t seem enough, because now he’s declaring with his strong cockney drawl “Is that it!!! Is that all you have got to give! Well it’s not good enough.”

He smiles, Showing his crooked yellow teeth. You know what’s about to happen. He pulls the trigger. You fall to the ground. Everything starts to become unclear. You begin to feel weak as if life was being seized from you, as if life was a meaningless substance and it was being strained away. You see a hundred eyes, all fascinated by you. You stay sprawled on this cold damp concrete. Your heart feels nothing anymore; it’s pumping slower and slower. Your eyes deep blue but are now portraying an immense amount of pain and misery. Everything becomes black. You feel nothing anymore. You can only hear a distort sound of speaking; the sound of cars, you can hear sirens and most of all you hear the echoing BANG of the shot.
Your Sight turns from black to white to red to white and back to black….
All your senses have faded: Absolutely vanished.
You are dead.
This is where life took you. This is the end.

Part One: from Blood Meridian by Cormac McCarthy

This extract intrigued me the most because it uses strong emotion to show what the character is feeling, what he is wearing and describing the way he lives. I think the author used some powerful vocabulary to attract the reader e.g. 'See the child. He is pale and thin, he wears a thin and ragged linen shirt. He stokes the scullery fire. Outside lie dark turned fields with rags of snow and darker woods beyond that harbor yet a few last wolves'. In some parts it’s quite simple, but it gets straight to the point. I like the way the author suddenly gets deep into the story and starts using complex sentences and words to create tension. Another thing which occurred to me was that in the sentence: The mother dead these fourteen years did incubate in her own bosom the creature who would carry her off. The father never speaks her name; the child does not know it. He has a sister in this world that he will not see again. He watches, pale and unwashed. He can neither read nor write and in him broods already a taste for mindless violence. All history present in that visage, the child the father of the man.

I personally think that this paragraph hit me the most, with the emotion of sadness, he wrote: The mother dead these fourteen years did incubate in her own bosom the creature who would carry her off. The father never speaks her name; the child does not know it. I thought this part was quite depressing because, the child didn’t even recognise his mother’s name.

THE END..


It was the night I could never forget. Never will. The daunting moment that ripped my family right apart, but in a way brought me closer to realising that you only have one life, and one chance.

It all began, whilst I and my mother were trying out some new clothes that we had bought- as you know girls do adore shopping. Anyway it was then that I suddenly realised, today I was supposed to meet up with my dad but on second thoughts I rather stay with my mum. All afternoon we messed around, until the door bell rung, I thought it was probably my dad going on and on about me going round his place. No. Completely wrong. Right there and then a drunken man armed with a gun pointing at my mother’s head. Luckily before he could shoot I threw a punch right where it hurts, yes bull’s-eye.

The panic began to fill me, my heart thumping. We looked at each other and just gradually started laughing.

The day drew to an end; the picturesque colours of the sky are still appearing as the sun goes down. Tucked in bed I felt rather stout, yet still frightened. Pitch black in the night, the sound of the creaking had alarmed me, sweat was pouring down my pale white face as I had no idea of what I was about to see.

My mum. She had left a note saying that she was held captive and that I should go to my dad’s and forget about her. Who does she think I am? So I set off following the trail of grubby boots.

Finally I had reached the destination. I took a glimpse of the torture she was set to face- not this time.
Grabbing on to the railings I set of to rescue her, little did they know I was right at the back of them.

Unfortunately, the man in front of me was armed also, and I got caught. The tears dripping from my mum’s rosy cheeks made me wonder if we were going to die.

Since I’m the brain box of the family I’d always have a plan B. Carrying a knife with me isn’t that good but hey at least it will help you in this situation. At first I struggled to get untangled but in the end I released myself. The good thing was that the men were busy smoking, drinking to really care. The shock entered my mum when she felt her hands untangling but when she saw my reassuring face she calmed down.

As soon as we tried to escape a bullet was fired to the ground which startled me, and then out of the smoke came the men pointing the gun now directly at me.

Trapped. It was then that I realised that it was the end for me but surprisingly when he fired the bullet I didn’t feel a thing. In front of my watering eyes lay my mum she took the bullet for me, I knew this was.....

Task 39: Innovation

I sincerely hope that your reading of the various excerpts I have sent you during this term together with your own attempts at each task will have taught you loads about how to produce really effective prose. You will have picked up techniques and devices - consciously and without realising it - which will enrich your writing in the future, and you will have had the chance to experiment with some of these already too.

For your final task of this term (and your final prose task of this academic year), I would like you to think especially hard about how to continue that experimentation, and attempt as innovative and 'creative' a piece of prose fiction as you can muster. In order to assist you, I have emailed all of you five excerpts from different novels which I think display a particularly innovative use of language and narrative. Look carefully at what each writer is doing - with their narrator, with their tenses, with their vocabulary, grammar and syntax (sentence structure).

Part One

As usual, I would like you to choose ONE excerpt which you liked the most, and explain - in approximately 200 words - what it was about the excerpt that grabbed your interest. In particular, what is the writer doing with language to especially successful effect?

Part Two

Now it is your chance to 'show off' what you have learnt. This does not necessarily mean using lots of long, fancy words and complex, compound sentences - in fact, some of the best writing can be remarkably simple. What I want to be sure of is that all of you have thought long and hard about each and every word, how they are organised, and how every sentence and paragraph has been structured to achieve a particular effect on your reader: deliberate, careful, meticulous prose with an experimental, innovative streak and, above all, exuding originality from start to finish.

I would like you to use the following title: 'The End'. Your piece can either be a self-contained, short story, or the ending of a longer story or novel; but, either way, it must work on its own, and display a clear structure.

Good luck!

Your piece must be posted by midnight on Saturday 4th April.

Your moderators will then have TWO weeks in which to comment, before the first task of the summer term on 19th April.

Englishguru Analysis 2: eternity.forever. (Task 38)

Don’t Turn Around

Don’t turn around.
She read the words again, counting to five as she did so. Then she pressed send.

This is a brilliant opening, with a perfect balance between what we don't know (i.e. who 'she' is, who is the recipient, what lies behind the warning) and what we do (i.e. she is nervous, double-checking the message and "counting to five" before sending it). I am instantly intrigued and want to read on and fill the gaps.

Phillips walks up to me.

I really like the sudden and dramatic shift here - from 3rd person to 1st person, and from past tense to present tense. Having been sucked in by the enigma of the opening, this throws us right into the centre of events.

“Evening, boss.”
“Good day?” I gave him a friendly punch in the shoulder in return for his smile.
“Not really. Chief made me sort out his office whilst she,” He indicated at Jennifer. “And himself went through this month’s budget.” I grinned.

I like the contrast between the two characters' interactions: a punch for a smile. But there are a couple of problems with this section. Firstly, you seem to have slipped right back into the past tense, which is confusing. And, secondly, the syntax and punctuation of the last couple of sentences needs revision, as it is somewhat clumsy at the moment. Your 'aside' ("he indicated at Jennifer") does not need to be a separate sentence, and can just be wrapped in commas; and I am often unhappy with the way in which students use "himself" (or "herself"). How about: "Not really. Chief made me sort out his office whilst she," he indicated at Jennifer, "went through this month's budget with him."

“What’s going on then? Chief sounded anxious on the phone.” My hair was still wet from the shower I had fifteen minutes ago.
“Two kids were found in the alleyway back there.” He turned around and pointed at the cornered off area. I nodded.
“Any witnesses?”
“None yet.”
“Forensics here?”
“They will be. But road works are keeping them up.”
“Can I go through?”
“I don’t see why not. You are my boss after all.” Phillips winked cheekily and walked me up to the crime scene tape. I turned around quickly.
“You holding up, kid? You look a little rough.”
“I’m fine, thank you. Do you want me to get you one?” He waved the extra large cup of coffee in his right hand, and I nodded with gratitude. What an amazing kid.

This is excellent and, above all, convincing, quick-fire dialogue. I like the fact that there is virtually no narrative, and, when there is, it is on seemingly secondary details like the wet hair or the large cup of coffee. As a reader, we get a number of things from all this: that there is an element of routine to it all; that the two officers are used to working together; that they have been called to the scene when they would rather be at home (I assume, from the coffee and the wet hair, in fact, that they would rather be asleep!). And "What an amazing kid" at the end communicates so much about the speaker, and about his relationship with Phillips, with just as much economy as the rest of the piece so far.

Charlie was already hovering above the corpses, trying to peer into the contents of the dead girls’ bag – with little success, mind you.
“Well, look who we have here.” I stood with my arms folded, looking smug.
His head spun around, quick as a bullet, before his smile lit up the gloomy alleyway.
“Davie boy, it’s been a long time. Heard it was your day off?”
“It was, until Halloween got to these two.” My chin pointed to the bodies.
“Yeah, shame. Young things. Remember when we were the hooligans?” He smiled.
“I wish I could forget.” I smiled back. He gave me a brotherly hug, his big build crushing my lungs.
“Ah, sorry mate, I’m like a giant, I am. Handshake?”
I shook his fat right hand.

Again, another economic conversation, but a very different relationship. I am very impressed by the way you manage to cram so much character into a small section of dialogue with limited narrative. Little details, like the fact that Charlie "hovers" over the bodies and Davie shakes his "fat right hand", and the 'smugness' of Davie pointing at the bodies only with his "chin" - these all contribute to the authenticity of the piece, a crucial ingredient of much of the best crime fiction.

Something clattered lower down in the alleyway – it took us seconds to sprint towards it.
“What was that?” Charlie whispered. I shushed him and walked over to a graffiti layered wall, riddled with colour and crumbling with age. Two bins lay knocked over at its base.
Behind the bins was a partial opening; I took out the pen torch from my jacket and climbed through. Dust caressed my skin as I walked deeper into what seemed to be a basement.

After all the dialogue, the noise in the alleyway comes as a very effective shock. I like the description of the wall too: "riddled with colour and crumbling with age". Excellent. There is something really powerful about the personification of the dust too, and it makes the reader share the experience.

My Blackberry vibrated in my trouser pocket. 1 new message.
I opened it. The three words were simple enough, something that I wouldn’t have done instinctively if I hadn’t been a police officer.
Don’t turn around.
I turned around.

I like the short sentences here, which build the tension skilfully. The double negative of the longer sentence is a little confusing though, and the effort the reader has to make to work it out deflects from the potential power of the final couplet: "something that I wouldn't have done instinctively if I hadn't been a police officer". I am still a little confused, to be honest. However, the return to the email message from the start is expertly done, and the cliffhanger brilliantly executed. Well done.

All in all, I thought this was a very effective piece, made stronger by your economical prose and dialogue. I think the ending needs a little bit of revision, and I would still have kept the main body in the Present Tense myself - but you have clearly been taught well by your own crime fiction reading, and your adept grasp of the genre shines through throughout. :)

Payback

Part one

I have chosen Knots and Crosses by Ian Rankin because I felt that it was the most effective. I found it clever that the whole piece was around on letter and it kind of reminded me of the Jack the Ripper case and the police not having a clue about who sent the letters. I would like to adopt this technique into my own writing because I feel that having a simple object at the centre of everything is effective in creating suspense in the air. I also like the fact that the letters that are sent are identical with the “exact same message” and the police know that it comes with a “string” and is from the “same bloke” because this creates a case and a criminal out of a simple thing like a letter. Even though the ‘criminal’ is kind of telling the police that “THERE ARE CLUES EVERYWHERE” you get the idea that the person writing the letters is taking the mick out of the police and this works Rebus up because it was confusing to him. Ending it at “Then the phone rang” makes us want to read on because it’s like the answer to everything is on the other end of the phone.

Part two

“Hello, is it me you’re looking for…catch me if you can.” She read it over and over again but it seemed that every time she read it confused her more and more. Every week at the same time she kept getting these weird messages alongside a bunch of flowers –red roses, she hated them.
“Hiya…oh another message?” It was Angie, her work colleague.
“Yeah.”
“Still no idea who it’s from?”
“If I did do you think that I’d be sitting here staring at it…sorry…it’s just...”
“It’s okay; I’ll leave you to it”
She wanted to stop her. Tell her to come back but she knew that she would get to hear his voice. It was usually about half an hour after she would get to work and receive the flowers that he would call her. She would hear his voice and try to figure out who he was. Not that easy. For the last five times he has been doing it she was no closer to finding out who he was and why.
Was he an ex boyfriend? A friend trying to scare her? Who? And most importantly why? What had she done?
Before she could contemplate any longer the phone rang. After a two minute conversation she found that she completely recognised the voice. That voice belonged to Him.

The kidnapper

Part 1 knots and crosses.

I liked knots and crosses because it started with the action straight away as they said “Who brought this in, Mac?” he brought me into the story and just made me carry on and on. I never did wanted it to stop, he also had great description in his writing



Part 2 The Kidnapper

Peter was fourteen years of age, he was a man of great size, he was like the so called tough chivalrous boy, but on the other he was a sympathetic young lad with a soft heart. He had wavy blonde hair with black streaks. Peter was wearing a green wooly jumper, with brown jeans.

On a cool mid summers evening in Essex, Peter was on his way from his aunties house.
As he was making his way home Peter was suspicious of the whereabouts and he felt something atrocious had happened. He was eager to find what the issue was. If Peter was
Lucky enough to find a piece of evidence it would have been great, indeed it was. He found a brief letter of a random young kid that would be kidnapped, the most useful description was the name of the suspect.

Peter woke up determined to solve this, even though he was at the age of fourteen, the age might not have mattered but he had the love and care, he was on his way to police station to hand in the piece of evidence, when he arrived and gave in the letter, they were delighted to hear about this, as they knew themselves about had been going on.

The police were on the case, they had took the letter to the forensics were they found finger prints and DNA , they found out the information of were he lives. The next morning they were on the move hunting him down, they knocked on the door put the man to the floor hand cuffs around his arms, and searched the room were the young boy was wrapped around with a rope, the boy was flooded with tears, the boy was taken back to the police station, as the kidnapper was taken into custody and on his way to court to be charged a long sentence.

It's hard to believe..

Part 1
My favorite excerpt was the one from 'End in Tears' by Ruth Rendell because I thought that it used the show and not tell technique very well. I also liked the twist in the end; I believe that it was what made the excerpt so powerful. All the while I was reading I thought that the man was waiting for the woman to speak to her or something, but then it ended up him trying to kill her. That to me was just unexpected. I don't really have a detailed explanation for why I liked it so much; it was more because it jumped out and grabbed me then me trying to come to grasp with its qualities.
Part 2

I was there more confused than ever. It couldn’t be her. She couldn’t be dead. I spoke to her only yesterday that she told me she was going to meet her future soul mate. She was planning her wedding with him; this couldn’t be happening. No. It was a dream I was going to wake up any minute now and find that she was my next case. I never thought I would have to mix my social and work life together; I guess life is not always as you planned it out to be.

So I was there in complete shock in the room with the only person left that I trusted now at my feet, and covered in blood. She had a necklace pattern planted in her skin, shed always loved necklaces I didn’t know that it would even go for her death. She had slits in her arm which made sure that every spot of the floor was red. They were finely cut so that each piece of flesh on either side was smooth.

I took out my note book and started to record what I saw; before realizing that everyone around me was looking at my every move. So I told them each to get on with their work and to let me get on with mine. I wrote down exact descriptions of the crime scene as painful as it was. It wasn’t until then did I notice the smell, a tangy smell; I guessed straight away what it was but when I did I wish ed I hadn’t. It was bad enough seeing my best friend on the floor in front of me and everyone around me, but for her to have actually pissed it was too embarrassing in front everyone; despite the fact that she was dead.

And that was how my last case started. Finding my only full time friend on the floor dead. That was something I would never have imagined to have to cope with that as part of the CSI, but I guess that was another misjudgment on my behalf.