What is Literature?

The editors of The Norton Introduction to Literature Portable Edition make it clear in the anthology's introduction that the concept of literature is subjective and personal to the reader, and is ever-changing. They cite the Oxford English Dictionary's definition of literature as “writing which has claim to consideration on the ground of beauty of form or emotional effect (4)”. I believe this is true – literature's form makes it a work of art, and it is certainly an outlet for human emotion. We enjoy comedies, tragedies, romantic poetry, and all sorts of literature that feeds our emotions. I would add two elements to this definition. One is that literature is timeless and can be enjoyed for eternity. The themes and lessons learned in literature are relevant to people of any era. The other is that literature speaks the truth about humanity. It employs a message or lesson that is learned from analyzing human behavior. Literature is based on the human experience, and therefore, we learn about ourselves by reading about others. The selections in the Norton anthology adhere to all of these elements. I feel that the literary canon for this class was adequate, and that the pieces of fiction, poetry and drama we analyzed were indeed important pieces of literature that should be taught in the classroom. In this essay, I will provide examples of works we studied to explain what I believe literature to consist of.

First, I classify literature as an art form, the author, an artist. Just like painting, photography or sculpture, there is a structured form to literature. Fiction has its characters, setting and plot; poetry is identified by its meter and rhyme scheme; and drama utilizes tone, sets and imagery to convey a message. Literature can be appreciated for its adherence to such timeless techniques. When an author utilizes the appropriate literary devices in his work, he proves that he understands the art of literature, and his work becomes a part of an ever-growing compendium of valuable literature that others can learn from.

While structured forms increase the appreciation for literature, sometimes, a challenge to those forms can make literature exciting. For example, in “Sonnet,” poet Billy Collins pokes fun at traditional forms by seemingly ignoring them. At first glance, it seems as though Collins' goal was to upset the sonnet form with his poem, but upon further inspection it is evident that he, too, has remained loyal to many of the rules for its form. First and most noticeable, Collins strays from the traditional sonnet rule of rhyme. While “Sonnet” defies the proper rules for a poem of its type, Collins still includes a discussion of the rules in his writing. “But hang on here wile we make the turn,” he writes, referring to the predictable change-of-pace on the ninth line of a sonnet (553). Collins doesn't want to be restrained by the rules of the art he creates. His poem is an attempt to break the mold, to prove that it is acceptable to try new techniques in writing. However, the fact that he still employs many of the sonnet's requirements proves that he still respects the structure that accompanies poetic form.

Next, I contend that literature speaks the truth about humanity. Because literature is based on the human experience, it can be read by other humans in similar or entirely different situations. Lessons can be learned from the outcomes in each tale. It is for this reason that much of literature revolves around culture and history. Since old adages tell us that “history repeats itself” and “there are no new ideas,” often times, themes in literature are recycled. Human beings share a variety of experiences, but each individual has a different perspective. Therefore, literature allows many accounts to be given regarding the same types of experiences or events in history. One example of such “recycled” ideas is the death of the American Dream. In this class, we studied Death of a Salesman, Arthur Miller's play about Willy Loman, a man obsessed with the promise of the American Dream. Willy is fixated on the superficial qualities of attractiveness and thinks that one must be likeable to share in the Dream. His disillusionment leads to his own psychological downfall, as he realizes the disparity between the Dream and his own life. This isn't the first time I've been exposed to this theme in a literature class. Just last quarter, I studied The Great Gatsby, F. Scott Fitzgerald's take on the the death of the Dream. Written twenty years before Death of a Salesman, the story is narrated by Nick Caraway, a young man fascinated by the glitz and glamor of the Jazz Age. The tale is symbolic of 1920s America in general, a time when the American Dream disintegrated into a fervor of unprecedented prosperity and material excess. Both Loman and Caraway inherited their world views from a desire for money and pleasure that surpassed more noble goals. This is a theme that is recurring throughout much of literature. When we see a theme repeat itself in literature, it is evident that it is a theme that affects all of humanity.

Because literature reflects themes that affect all human beings, it is timeless. A story written centuries ago can mean just as much for a modern reader as it did for an ancestral one. For example, “The Yellow Wallpaper” by Charlotte Perkins Gilman was written in the 19^th century, but it speaks volumes about gender roles even still today. In this fictional short story, the narrator is confined to an upstairs nursery in a plantation home by her husband, who also serves as her doctor. Her husband attempts to keep her from other people in order to treat her post-partum depression. However, the pattern on the ugly, yellow wallpaper in the room feeds the narrator's understimulated mind. At the story's climax, the narrator helps an imaginary woman escape from imaginary bars that have appeared in the wallpaper. Women of any era who have felt the pressure of male dominance can rejoice alongside the narrator as she rips the suffocating paper from the walls.

Literature is an art form. It speaks the truth about humanity. It is timeless. The editors of the Norton anthology also conclude that literature is ever-changing. I think it is vital to recognize this. The definition of literature has changed since written language was developed. Now, literature is expanding to encapsulate not only printed materials but staged performances, film, television, video games and more. I hope that now and in the years to come, educators focus on expanding their literary canons to include a variety of media to teach both tried-and-true traditional as well as new literature.

Works Cited

Collins, Billy. “Sonnet.” The Norton Introduction to Literature. Ed. Alison Booth, J. Paul Hunter and Kelly J. Mays. New York: Norton, 2006. 553.

Fitzgerald, F. Scott. The Great Gatsby. New York: Charles Scribner's Sons, 1925.

Gilman, Charlotte Perkins. “The Yellow Wallpaper. The Norton Introduction to Literature. Ed. Alison Booth, J. Paul Hunter and Kelly J. Mays. New York: Norton, 2006. 316-327.

“Introduction.” The Norton Introduction to Literature. Ed. Alison Booth, J. Paul Hunter and Kelly J. Mays. New York: Norton, 2006. 1-10.

Miller, Arthur. “Death of a Salesman.” The Norton Introduction to Literature. Ed. Alison Booth, J. Paul Hunter and Kelly J. Mays. New York: Norton, 2006. 923-993.

Analysis: Dorothy Parker's “A Certain Lady”

Dorothy Parker's poem, “A Certain Lady,” is told through the voice of a woman who serves as a sometime-companion for a man she is deeply in love with. It is difficult to determine if the speaker is Parker herself, or another woman entirely. Regardless, the woman reciting the words is well aware of her position as a comforter, a shoulder to lean on. She knows that the man she loves is not really dedicated to her and her alone, and that her love for him is lost. Through this essay, I will utilize Option One and analyze the speaker's view of her predicament. This woman continually fails to connect with the man she loves for a host of probable reasons. He may be unaware of her true emotions, and she may have been too passive in her attempts to prove them. Alternatively, the woman may have a love interest outside of her relationship with the man that keeps her satisfied. Most likely, the speaker has failed to develop a romance with the man for fear of risking their friendship.

It is difficult to hide one's emotions, but the woman in this poem does just that. “Oh, I can smile for you, and tilt my head,” she says. She drinks his “rushing words with eager lips,” and paints her mouth a “fragrant red” (1-3). It seems to me that she knows this man well and often meets with him, dressed to impress and ready to gobble up the words he has to offer. She knows she is skilled at the art of listening and attending his needs, as she refers to her “tutored finger-tips” with which she traces his brows (4). This woman is deeply infatuated with the man. She pours herself into him while he, a boastful character, speaks only of himself. When he tells her about all the things he loves, she says, “Oh, I can laugh and marvel, rapturous-eyed” (6). She seems completely fascinated by the man. However, he is unaware of the “thousand little deaths” her heart has died since they began these meetings (8). Every time they depart, and she fails to acquire her rightful place on his arm, her heart breaks, and she dies a little on the inside.

Parker defines a “certain” type of lady in this poem, one who knows her place in the world. In other words, this woman lets the man make all of the decisions and advances. She says, “And you believe, so well I know my part / That I am gay as morning, light as snow” (10). She presents herself to be quite capable of carrying on this type of open relationship. To the eye, she appears happy and unburdened. However, in the next two lines, she admits the difficulty she finds in maintaining this arrangement: “And all the straining things within my heart / You'll never know” (11-12). These lines also prove that the woman doesn't necessarily expect her arrangement to change. She knows the man will never know about her internal emotions, and he's not the type to ask her how she's feeling.

Actually, when this man comes to meet the speaker, he bestows upon her tales of other women: “And you bring tales of fresh adventurings / Of ladies delicately indiscreet / Of lingering hands, and gently whispered things” (14-16). This must be incredibly hurtful for the woman, who despite knowing that this man is involved with other women when he's away from her, maintains her loyalty to his friendship. Her loyalty could, in fact, be sending the wrong signal to this man, further encouraging him to share his romantic tales with her. She says, “And you are pleased with me, and strive anew / To sing me sagas of your late delights” (17-18). Because she is such a marvel listener, and seems to enjoy the stories the man brings to her, he never learns that she desires to be one of those delicate ladies he speaks of. In the very next line, she stresses the confusion that exists in their relationship: “Thus do you want me – marveling, gay and true / Nor do you see my staring eyes of nights” (19-20). She isn't sure that the man knows her intentions, therefore, how can she expect him to reciprocate her feelings?

The woman in the poem eventually chalks up her loss to being a less appealing woman than the others he pursues: “And when, in search of novelty, you stray” (21). Upon their departure, so that she doesn't seem as desperate as she feels inside, she kisses him “blithely” on the lips and says, “And what goes on, my love, while you're away / You'll never know” (22-24). The author leaves these last lines ambiguous. Perhaps the speaker is saying that because the man has never expressed an interest in her personal emotions, he will never find out how she truly feels. When they go their separate ways, he continues to pursue other women, but she thinks about him and patiently awaits their next meeting.

Another interpretation of this ending could be that the woman isn't a fool at all, and that when they are separate, she, too, seeks out more novel options. The fact that she kisses him “blithely” - lightly, carelessly, a feather-kiss – means that she is trying to appear less passionate about the man. Perhaps she, too, has other love interests on the side. This is very unlikely, though, given her strong affections for the man throughout the rest of the poem.

She may kiss him “blithely” to pretend that she's not quite so romantic about him, or to show that she doesn't care about his disregard for her. The cynical tone of the poem coincides with her actions. This woman is trying to pretend to be something she's not for the sake of preserving what relationship they have. This relationship is very painful for her, but she endures it because she treasures the friendship she has with the man. Her fear of losing the only intimacy they have keeps her coming back time and time again.


Work Cited
Parker, Dorothy. “A Certain Lady.” The Norton Introduction to Literature. Ed. Alison Booth, J. Paul Hunter and Kelly J. Mays. New York: Norton, 2006. 438.

Setting and Plot in “The Yellow Wallpaper”

Charlotte Perkins Gilman's “The Yellow Wallpaper” is a short story that explores the submissive role of women in marriage as well as the need for self-expression. The setting of the tale, which is told through the narrator's private journal, contributes to the narrator's internal conflicts, as it prevents her from escaping them. Set in the late 19th century, the narrator is suffering from post-partum depression following the birth of her child. She is cared for by her husband, John, who is also conveniently her doctor. Through her journal, she documents the controlling nature of her husband, who keeps her isolated from the world so that her condition will improve. However, her disconnection from the real world only drives her closer to insanity.

In the story's time period, it was typical for women to be treated like children by their husbands. The narrator exhibits this each time she confronts John about the approach to her medical treatment. In response, he calls her “little girl” (322), or “his blessed little goose” (318). One time in particular, the narrator says, “And dear John gathered me up in his arms, and just carried me upstairs and laid me on the bed, and read to me till it tired my head” (321). This is certainly how one would treat their child, not their wife. This is further demonstrated when John insists the narrator stay in the upstairs nursery.

In this era it was also expected for women to obey their husbands without question. Although she desires to keep a journal to help relieve some of her stress, she knows her husband forbids it: “There comes John, and I must put this away – he hates to have me write a word” (317). She is cautious of her emotions around her husband, being careful to not show emotions around him or anyone else. “I take pains to control myself – before him, at least,” she says, “and that makes me very tired” (317).

Since scientific and medical knowledge was limited in the 19th century, and John is a medical authority, the narrator doesn't dare question her husband's medical advice, although she admits to disagreeing with his ideas. “So I take phosphates or phosphites – whichever it is, and tonics, and journeys, and air, and exercise, and am absolutely forbidden to 'work' until I am well again,” she says (316). It is obvious that she doesn't have much faith in any of these treatments, but is still expected to follow not only the doctor's – but her husband's – orders.

The room containing the yellow wallpaper, where John insists the narrator stay to rest, causes her to lose her sanity. It is a large upstairs room, which John boasts as being big and airy. First a nursery, then a playroom and gymnasium, the room reminds the narrator of all of the things she cannot have. Because it was a nursery and playroom, it is a constant reminder that she cannot be with her newborn baby. The fact that it was a gymnasium reminds her of fun, entertaining activities that she cannot participate in.

There are two windows in the room. One looks to the garden and derelict greenhouses and the other to the bay and a private wharf. These views only remind the narrator of the places she cannot go. Also, she describes the house as “A colonial mansion, a hereditary estate,” which leads the reader to believe it is in the south, perhaps on a plantation (316). The story also takes place during the Fourth of July. This information proves that the narrator is trapped inside during the beautiful summer months in a gorgeous area of the country, when getting outside for some excitement would seem to be particularly therapeutic. Furthermore, she claims the house is nearly three miles from town. Getting outside from time to time wouldn't have burdened the narrator or anyone else, but John insisted she stay inside and rest.

The room itself has bars on the window, which were probably initially installed to keep children safe. The narrator, though, sees them as the gates of her prison. While she is disgusted by the horrible yellow wallpaper, the pattern on it is the most mentally stimulating thing in the room. Therefore, it is not surprising when her focus on it turns into an obsession. The setting of the story directly contributes to the plot action, which develops as the narrator watches the wallpaper come to life. As the narrator perceives the wallpaper to become more and more bizarre, she becomes further and further detached from reality.

First, the narrator sees no design in the wallpaper. It was “one of those sprawling flamboyant patterns committing every artistic sin,” with “lame uncertain curves” (317). She is mostly annoyed by the pattern and the fact that John won't let her tear down the paper. He thinks the fact that it irks her will do her some good. Later on, though, she starts to notice a pattern of a “broken neck and two bulbous eyes” emerging in the print. “I never saw so much expression in an inanimate thing before...” she now says (319). As the story progresses, she begins to see a sub-pattern in the wallpaper. “I can see a strange, provoking, formless sort of figure,” she says, “that seems to skulk about behind that silly and conspicuous front design” (319). The narrator actually admits to becoming more child-like in her obsession with the wallpaper: “I used to lie awake as a child and get more entertainment and terror out of blank walls and plain furniture than most children could find in a toy-store” (319). She becomes the child John has created.

The story climaxes when the narrator notices a difference in the wallpaper during the day and at night. At night, the shape she's been focusing on becomes a woman trapped behind bars, but “by daylight she is subdued, quiet.” “I fancy it is the pattern that keeps her so still,” the narrator writes. “It is so puzzling. It keeps me quiet by the hour” (323). She assumes that the pattern is keeping the woman prisoner by day, until, one day, while looking out the window, she sees the woman “creeping” around the garden. She knows it is the woman in the wallpaper, because she says “she is always creeping, and most women do not creep by daylight” (325). However, the narrator goes on to admit her similarity with the woman, admitting that she, too, creeps around in the daytime: “I always lock the door when I creep by daylight. I can't do it at night, for I know John would suspect something at once” (325).

As the narrator becomes more mentally unstable, she realizes that she must “free” the woman trapped in the wallpaper at night. When she begins tearing down the wallpaper, her character begins to merge with that of the woman she sees trapped: “I pulled and she shook, I shook and she pulled, and before morning we had peeled off yards of that paper” (326). She further characterizes this figment of her imagination by working with her to tear down the bars. When the paper is torn down, the narrator looks out the window and remarks, “...there are so many of those creeping women, and they creep so fast. I wonder if they all come out of that wallpaper as I did?” (327) At this point, she has become the woman in the wallpaper, as she directly refers to herself as the woman who escaped. But although the other women are “creeping” on the lawn, she suddenly finds the confinement of the room more comfortable, and begins crawling around the perimeter with her shoulder to the “smooch” on the wall. When her husband faints after seeing her mental state, she continues “creeping” around the room, crawling right over top of him each time she passes.

Setting is the literary device which drives Gilman's “The Yellow Wallpaper.” The confinement of the narrator to the upstairs room explores the roles of women in marriage and society, as well as the importance of self-expression and social interaction. The yellow wallpaper in the room feeds the narrator's understimulated mind. She is rarely permitted visits with other people and is not even allowed to keep a private journal. She enters the story with many negative feelings regarding her husband's treatment of her, and the yellow wallpaper gives her something to focus on while pondering her situation. All the while, she becomes more obsessed, more manic, and more desperate for an escape.


Work Cited
Gilman, Charlotte Perkins. “The Yellow Wallpaper. The Norton Introduction to Literature. Ed. Alison Booth, J. Paul Hunter and Kelly J. Mays. New York: Norton, 2006. 316-327.

Shakespeare and Collins: Ironic Sonnets

There comes a time when every great artist questions the integrity of the work he's producing. Even literary masters like William Shakespeare and Billy Collins have found the need to question the rigid rules that accompany many art forms. In Shakespeare's “My mistress's eyes are nothing like the sun” and Collins' “Sonnet,” the authors defy such rules to prove that, perhaps, they are meant to be broken. Life is not always as predictable as poetry dictates, and these authors want to be sure that their readers are aware of that.

In the sonnet, “My mistress' eyes are nothing like the sun,” Shakespeare speaks about only one thing – his flawed lover. His words reflect romantic sonnets of the time, but simultaneously poke fun at them. The true purpose of the poem is not for Shakespeare to explain how undesirable his mistress is, but rather to cast an ironic voice towards the type of writing he, too, is well-known for.

He uses romantic imagery such as eyes like the sun (“My mistress' eyes are nothing like the sun”), ruby red lips (“Coral is far more red than her lip's red”), rosy cheeks (“I have seen roses damasked, red and white / But no such roses see I in her cheeks”), perfume, delight (In some perfumes there is more delight / Than the breath with which my mistress reeks”), and pleasure (“I love to hear her speak, yet well I know / Music hath a far more pleasing sound”). However, he parodies these words with true life imagery of the woman he loves, a woman who is nothing that traditional poets write about. He confesses his love for this woman although she doesn't fit the typical mold for a beauty in a romantic poem.

This sonnet by Shakespeare was very rare for his time. It was very original in the fact that it depicted real love, as told through the eyes of a real lover. As Shakespeare admits his mistress' flaws, he realizes that they are what make her human. At the end of the sonnet, he writes: “I grant I never saw a goddess go / My mistress, when she walks, treads on the ground.” He means that he is unfamiliar with the goddesses of traditional romantic poetry, but knows that his own lover is real and tangible.

“Sonnet” by Collins parallels Shakespeare's piece by, once again, poking fun at traditional poetry. Collins, however, doesn't parody subject matter, rather, he points out the stiff structure of the sonnet itself. At first glance, it seems as though Collins' goal was to upset the sonnet form with his poem, but upon further inspection it is evident that he, too, has remained loyal to many of the rules for its form.

First and most noticeable, Collins strays from the traditional sonnet rule of rhyme. Although the poem has fourteen lines and is split into two sections, there is no noticeable rhyme pattern. The poem also mentions “iambic bongos,” a reference to the traditional meter of sonnets, iambic pentameter, although Collins himself doesn't stick to the rule.

While “Sonnet” defies the proper rules for a poem of its type, Collins still includes a discussion of the rules in his writing. “But hang on here wile we make the turn,” he writes, referring to the predictable change-of-pace on the ninth line of a sonnet. “Sonnet” makes this “turn,” as well; the first eight lines speak negatively about a sonnet's strict rules, while the ninth line ushers in a resolution to the problem.

Collins, like Shakespeare, doesn't want to be restrained by the rules of the art he creates. His poem is an attempt to break the mold, to prove that it is acceptable to try new techniques in writing. However, the fact that he still employs many of the sonnet's requirements proves that he still respects the structure that accompanies poetic form. Shakespeare employs a similar technique by using romantic words to describe the undesirableness of his mistress. Both of these authors use irony to deliver their message. By doing so, they are capable of both criticizing and praising the rules of poetry at the same time.


Works Cited
Collins, Billy. “Sonnet.” The Norton Introduction to Literature. Ed. Alison Booth, J. Paul Hunter and Kelly J. Mays. New York: Norton, 2006. 553.
Shakespeare, William. “My mistress' eyes are nothing like the sun.” The Norton Introduction to Literature. Ed. Alison Booth, J. Paul Hunter and Kelly J. Mays. New York: Norton, 2006. 552-553.