Wallace Stegner-- Wolf Willow

I found this section of Stegner’s memoir, Wolf Willow, incredibly enjoyable to read. As a memoir, I felt that it had a nice balance of scene setting and reflection. I especially enjoyed the way Stegner does his reflective pieces, and I would like to spend some time talking about it.

This section is very clearly about Stegner as a child (he says he is 6-11) learning to live on and with the land. In the beginning of this portion, we get that sense without him ever needing to state it outright. He does this by choosing very specific adjectives, and creating phrases that give this feeling. Some examples of this are at the end of the first paragraph on 25 where he says they spent “five summers vainly trying”, and in the middle of the next paragraph when he describes the truck “stuck up black and foreign”. 

After these few paragraphs he solidifies these feelings with a paragraph of more straightforward reflections. The first sentence of the last paragraph on 25 states “Because this was the essential feeling I had about the country-- the sense of being foreign and noticeable, of sticking out.” Stegner uses this pattern of scene and summary incredibly effectively; first he sets up the scene, and alludes to the feelings within the scene, then moves into a paragraph or two of pure reflection that leads into the next scene. By doing this the audience gets a clear picture of his experience and also how this experience affected him. 

The other big thing I feel is worth mentioning is the use of rhetorical questions to create reflection and audience connection. Usually, I am not a huge fan of the rhetorical question, and I am not sure how I feel about it in this piece either. The part I am referring to us on page 37. This part at the end of the section provided is essentially a list of questions. There are two whole paragraphs dedicated to this strategy, and then in the following paragraph, the last paragraph on 37-38, he answers the questions. 

Through this progression of questions and answers the audience gets an even stronger sense of what the prairie meant to Stegner. Additionally, by framing it the way he does, it seems like a sense of what anyone on the prairie at that time would have felt. Not being a pioneer, I don’t know if this is true or not, but the way he writes it certainly seems to be speaking for the majority. 

I like a lot of the writing within these few paragraphs, and I think what he says is interesting, but I feel that this much solid reflection and philosophizing took away from the scene a little too much. It seemed drastically different than the rest of the piece, and the switch in pace threw me off a little. I think Stegner could have easily worked these ideas into scenes more, and I feel that it would have been just as powerful and even more compelling (at least for me).

The end of the section tidily ties up the loose ends, and gives a sense of closure to the story. After much contemplative reflection, he ends on a positive quote from his mother, which adds some (much needed) humor to lift the somber mood he sets with his reflections. 

Richard Selzer's "Confessions of a Knife"

Richard Selzer's excerpt from Confessions of a Knife stands among the most unique memoirs we've read this semester. It's uniqueness makes it one of my personal favorites. The first time through, however, I wasn't too sure about it. The beginning felt a bit odd to me. I suppose that's as good a place as any to start dissecting this piece.

 The first three mini scenes felt like a truck spinning its tires in the mud, striving to move forward. They felt like three separate attempts to get the story off and going the first time I read Selzer's memoir. Selzer starts off by writing, "a river casts its influence over those who dwell upon its banks" (100). From here he waxes poetically about such things. While some of these excerpts left of yearning for more reflection, we certainly can't make that same claim about Selzer. In fact, he starts off with so much reflection we're left wondering about the circumstances that led him to these conclusions. The end of that first section leaves the reader intrigued and, at least in my case, a little confused. Selzer writes, "A man and a woman love themselves in each other; together, they become a home. A doctor gazes at his patient, and sees himself; joined, they are one pilgrim in search of health. Just so do a man and his river become something else, a third, a confluence" (101).

Selzer drops more clues about the direction of his memoir in the second mini section. He writes about the footbridge, "to walk across this footbridge was a very foretaste of Heaven. Had it something to do with death? So many children died in Troy in the nineteen-thirties. Tuberculosis, they said. But I suspect that monstrous irresistible footbridge" (101). We get the sense Tuberculosis, or maybe just premature death, is going to play a role in this memoir. He furthers these morbid thoughts by reflecting on death, itself. "And so much handling of corpses. To this day, it is the part of dying that I resent the most. This making free with the body, washing it, combing its hair, flipping it over to do the backside. Dragging it upstairs by its heels, perhaps, or kissing it. I do not share a tribal taste for matters funerary. Still, it out not astonish us that the survivors embrace and join not unwillingly in the rituals of death. What more tangible proof of one's own existence? He yet live who bears the pall" (101). Thank goodness for the introduction explaining Selzer's background as a physician or this reflection would make no sense whatsoever. Because of that bit of information, however, we get a glimpse into his adult mind. Certainly physicians view death differently than medical field outsiders. It makes you wonder if the death he saw as a child aided his father's push for medical school.

The third section is where I was sure the memoir should have started. I mean it's where I would have started if it were my memoir. But that's why Selzer gets paid to write and I don't. Either way, his opening line in that section says, "Bobby Kinnicut was twelve when he drowned in the river" (101) Already things are coming together. The significance of the river section and the death section are already coming into focus. Through Bobby's death, and the adults' reactions to it, we see how Selzer's childhood community views the river as this living, breathing entity. His mother said, "how i hate that old brute" (102). Selzer's reflection on this comment is amazing. He captures the innocence and creativity of youth when he says, "Billy and I didn't really believe that Bobby was drowned in any 'all gone' or 'nevermore' sense" (102).

 All of the earlier reflection comes full circle after Selzer describes the original altercation with Barry McKenna and his subsequent death. In the final paragraph he brings back the river, Bobby Kinnicut's death and being tugged on like fishing line (like Bobby's shoe). This excerpt felt more complete than some of the others. It felt like a self-contained story and not just a piece of the puzzle.

William Owens' -- This Stubborn Soil

The selection we are given from William Owens’ memoir, This Stubborn Soil, comes off as a slow journey through Owens’ life to find his friend Pat Swindle, a man that Owens believes will help him find a job, all the way in Texarkana.  The piece seems to not be full of much action; however the attention to detail is extreme and makes up for the seemingly little plot it entails. 

The beginning line of, “Looking for a job in January was worse than I thought it could be, going from building to building, walking in cold or rain…” (269), brings the reader into Owens’ despair; a despair that I’m sure all of us had to deal with at some point in our lives—if not later.  Maggie, Owens’ sister, does not allow Owens to feel sorry for himself by being harsh by saying, “You’ve got to make out like you’re a man” (269).  With this setting of the scene, the situation, the issue, and the personalities that we will see throughout, we have a feel for what is to come. 

Throughout the piece, we are given a play by play of what William Owens is accomplishing, which brings about a sort of reflection that isn’t the quintessential way we may be used to.  In the piece, we are allowed in his head.  This can be seen in lines such as, “I saw people I knew but they did not know me” (270) and “There was nothing left for me but to keep on walking” (271).  Personally, I feel like a great chunk of this memoir can most certainly be relatable.  Throughout the piece, I felt a connection with the character, because I’m sure at some point we’ve all felt these feelings.  Through this form of “inside the head” reflection and writing, one can sense the author well—we can understand his frustrations and personality.

Another aspect of the novel that I enjoyed, was how the author related a lot of the beginning parts to the ending.  On page 271, Owens brings up the quote “Don’t steal, don’t beg” which we see repeated in various forms: page 273 “…that would have been begging”, 275: “Don’t steal. Don’t beg” again, 277: “The way he said it, I was not begging.  It was not like being a tramp coming in begging for a place to stay.”  In such a sort selection of the piece, we can see full circle the growth of the character, and how important certain aspects are.  Personally, I would find this memoir interesting to read, just so I can see how the ending essentially pans out—along with the constant worry of begging.  Perhaps though, the proof is in the story.  Aforementioned, the strong and perhaps brutal line from his sister Maggie about being a man, most likely hit him right in the gut.  However, do we see some irony?  He is told to be a man, he tells himself not to beg—however, he spends the majority of the piece searching for his friend Pat because Owens finds Pat as a shoe-in for a job.  Is he being a man by taking the easy way out? Is he essentially begging by going on a journey to get a job? 

The turn of events happened for Owens near the tail end of the memoir by coming into contact with a man and a woman.  These characters pose as a “savior” to Owens by giving him literally a sense of direction—a train ticket to get Owens from Celeste to Dallas.  The woman says to Owens, “You c’n work your way through school…Anybody can if he wants to bad enough” (277) and the man says, “I’m glad you saw our light” (278) which poses as a definite change of events from the supposedly bad and dark road Owens would have taken if he ended up paling around with Pat. 

Through three subtle scene changes of William Owens’ journey, we see a progression of a character, along with a distinct attention to detail.  This personal memoir, radiates to its readers, also allowing the reader to reach into our minds and find ourselves within the author’s difficult times.  

Frank Conroy--Stop Time

Something that I have yet to consider while writing memoir is opening with a question. Conroy poses this question: “Is it the mindlessness of childhood that opens up the world?” (132). He already has the reader drawn in, wondering if he will answer this question, and—from the writers’ perspective—how he will answer this question. 

Conroy asks his question and then immediately places the reader in a scene: he is thirteen years old and he thinks the gas station is a fun and exciting place. He sticks close to the idea presented in his opening question, showing how, as a child, there was a certain thrill that he felt in situations that are now mundane and routine as an adult. Conroy then stumbles upon two yo-yo tricksters and is enthralled with the show they are putting on: “I stared open-mouthed as a yo-yo was thrown down and stayed down, spinning at the end of its string a fraction of an inch above the floor” (133). He uses other words—such as “mysteriously” in reference to the tricks of Ramos and Ricardo—to further show how this yo-yo act had affected him. Of course he buys a yo-yo with the coins he has left in his pocket, just as any child would do in his situation. He simply states, “I knew I was going to be good at it” (134). 

To smoothly transition into the narrative of practicing the yo-yo excessively, Conroy first describes the yo-yo in detail. He writes, “The common yo-yo is crudely made, with a thick shank between the two widely spaced wooden disks. The string is knotted or stapled to the shank. With such an instrument nothing can be done except the simple up and down movement” (134). Still clinging to his question, Conroy writes, “My yo-yo, on the other hand, was a perfectly balanced construction of hard wood, slightly weighted, flat, with only a sixteenth of an inch between the halves. The string was not attached to the shank, but looped over it in such a way as to allow the wooden part to spin freely on its own axis. The gyroscopic effect thus created kept the yo-yo stable in all attitudes” (134). Maybe his yo-yo truly was different and more efficient than the regular yo-yo, but chances are, he bought the same kind of yo-yo that every other kid had bought, yet still felt that his was greater in some way. Is this how the mindlessness of a child opens up the world? 

Conroy sets up the scene with the yo-yo competition well: “I could hear the crowd before I turned the corner. Kids were coming on bikes and on foot from every corner of town, rushing down the streets like madmen. Three or four policemen were busy keeping the streets clear directly in front of the store, and in a small open space around the doors some of the more adept kids were running through their tricks, showing off to the general audience or stopping to compare notes with peers” (137). This creates a picture of pomp surrounding the yo-yo competition, as if the town hasn’t seen anything so exciting in years. But then Conroy describes “A hundred excited children [emphasis added]” following the yo-yo artists into an alley (137). All of a sudden, the reader understands that this was an exciting event, but it was an exciting event for the children who were enthralled with this simple yo-yo toy. Conroy creates this excitement surrounding the event (as his boy character), but he also subtly suggests that perhaps the kids were a bit over-zealous about this yo-yo competition (as his adult-self reflecting back). 

Conroy wins the competition and is given this special yo-yo. He ends this section of his memoir with a final scene of him chasing the twins into the alley and asking them to show him the hardest trick they have ever done. The boy-character Conroy is impressed with the trick and relishes in the mystery of the situation, but there’s a tone of disappointment with the last line: Ramos says the trick is called “The Universe…Because it goes around and around, like the planets” (141). That’s it? That’s their best trick? Is it Conroy’s mindlessness as a boy that set these men on a pedestal? Did he answer his question that he posed at the beginning of this section?

Ralph Ellison- GOING TO THE TERRITORY

Although this was a very short section of Ralph Ellison’s work and the introduction labels it as a biographical essay, I still felt it contained many concepts of a memoir. Ellison puts us the readers in time and space, provides his feelings and reflections and has a story to tell that can be applied to others’ lives. The message of Ellison’s work revolves around the idea of the “little man hidden behind the stove,” that is introduced to him by Miss Harrison.

Behind Ellison himself, Miss Harrison is the second most prevalent character that is focused on in this short section. Ellison does not do much to develop her physically in this section but because of her interactions and background knowledge we find that she is a highly skilled pianist who is well educated in music and has a multicultural background having lived in Berlin. I personally, am very visual and like to be able to picture characters and events in my head and was slightly bothered by the fact he does not describe her. In the introduction it explains that Ellison refers to her frequently in his writing so I would assume that earlier in Going to Territory, he gives a detailed account of her. I would say it is fair to make this assumption because of the amount of detail he provides later in this excerpt when he is in New York getting his petition signed.

I felt that Ellison did have reflection in this piece but still wish there was more. The first time I noticed reflection is at the bottom of page 281. “Speechless, I stared at her. After the working-over I’d just received from the faculty, I was in no mood for joking.” “So what did she mean?” Although this is brief, it gives some insight as to what he was feeling and thinking at the time. Because the introduction labeled this as biographical I was nervous there would be no reflection at all.

One section that I particularly enjoyed was again on page 281 and runs onto 282. After Miss Harrison gives her explanation on the little man, Ellison writes for basically a full page of text. He discusses what was goingthrough his head, explained the train station, the tradition of music in Tuskegee and then he finally explains his reaction to Miss Harrison. “So as Miss Harrison watched to see the effect of her words, I said with a shrug, “Yes, ma’am”” (282).

Another example of reflection is on page 282 where Ellison explains what he wish Miss Harrison would have said to him. I really liked this and wondered if this is what he felt at the time or if this is something he added because of what he now knows. Either way I feel it makes this seem like a memoir because it is possible that he made this memory up, much like what we discussed Monday in class.

One thing I that caught my attention in the second half of this was the fact that he doesn’t recall what the petition was for. It is obviously not important to the development of the story but I wonder if this was written as a memoir, if Ellison would have made up a topic for the petition or if he would have felt it was just unimportant and would only retract from the story.

I really enjoyed the style Ellison used with this second story. He did a good job of setting the scene and then creating suspense for what was going to happen. I must say that immediately assumed he was going to knock on the door and not simply walk away because if he walked away there would probably be no story to tell. I really enjoyed the amount of detail he implemented in this section and you get some reflection from the detail. He explains how he is indecisive but very curious, allowing us to get insight into his character. You also can see he is well educated and cultured but that he strives on stereotypical judgments as he stands outside the door, explaining to us what he thinks he will find inside.

In closing I thought the ending was perfect for this section. He explained how the two stories came full circle. This is much like Bachdel with two separate stories connecting to make reason in a person’s life. I wonder if it hit him in that instant or if it was through reflection that he realized this was the time he first discovered the little man. The way he writes it, it is thought to have been the decisive moment where he remembers.

Zora Neale Hurston - Dust Tracks on a Road

After reading the beginning of Zora Neale Hurston’s memoir, I was a bit nervous because I really didn’t understand where the memoir was going. However, when Hurston starts focusing on Polk County and the lovable, Big Sweet, the memoir begins to take off. I thought it was interesting that Hurston let us know what she was doing there but after reading about the fight in the end, I thought she could have just jumped us into the scene more.

Big Sweet was the best character in the section of this memoir. One thing I noticed about Hurston’s writing is that she seems to hide details from you, but then later reveal them throughout the memoir. For example on page 392, as soon as Hurston tells us the name of Big Sweet, she doesn’t describe her at all (other than saying she was the sworn enemy to Lucy), which at first kind of disappointed me because right away I wanted to know more about her: what she looked like, how big she was, how strong, etc. But later on in the memoir she does a fantastic job of giving the reader the picture and attitude of Big Sweet. On page 393 Hurston’s landlady tells Hurston, “Tain’t a man, woman, nor child on this job going to tackle Big Sweet. If God send her a pistol she’ll send him a man. She can handle a knife with anybody. She’ll join hands and cut a duel.” She continues, “Dat cracker Quarter’s boss wears two pistols round his waist and goes for bad, but he won’t break a breath with Big Sweet lessen he got his pistol in hand. She ain’t mean. She don’t bother nobody. She just don’t stand for no foolishness, dat’s all,” (393).

We continue to read in the memoir that Hurston and Big Sweet became friends and Big Sweet swears to protect Hurston from Lucy, another crazy knife woman on the job who didn’t like Hurston.

The fight scene I thought was incredibly well written and I wish I had read it before doing my own memoir last time on a fight I had. It definetley would of gave me more ideas on how to describe it to my readers. She first sets the scene by telling us, “Several weeks went by, then I ventured in the jook alone.” Unknown to Lucy who follows in Hurston, Big Sweet follows behind her. Hurston describes Big Sweet protecting her, “My friend may have been large and portly, but extremely light on her feet.  She sprang like a lioness,” (394). Then Hurston describes what she is watching and it paints a vivid picture in our minds. She says, “The man who came with Lucy tried to help her out, but two other men joined Big Sweet in the battle. It took on amazingly. It seemed like anybody who had any fighting to do, decided to settle up then and there. Switch-blades, ice-picks, and old fashioned razors were out,” (395). When I was reading this part of the memoir I could just see this brawl taking place and I thought Hurston did a nice job of creating and describing this scene.

One other little part of the story that I found particularly interesting was all of the southern slang used in this memoir. I thought it helped put us into the deep south and some of the lingo I still hear nowadays. For example Big Sweet tells Hurston to look out because Lucy might “steal” her, which means sucker punch pretty much. It’s a slang word that I heard a lot throughout high school, funny how some things never change.

“Xlexia”

     Is Malcolm X’s autobiography agendized? Most certainly, because he was. We all are. The memoir was penned by ghostwriter Alex Haley such that an undercurrent for his philosophy would be easily visible. Malcolm’s memoir wasn’t written out of a desire to self-plumb, but instead to perpetuate and reinforce his message. That being said it is not outright propaganda; it doesn’t have to be, as it draws his thought-process to be the logical conclusion. The co-authoring, then, is probably what we should focus on, if the Question (neither the comics character, nor the marital proposal) has been filtered out by becoming a secondary source.

     The cover of the ‘99 version of the Autobiography states, subtitled, “As told to Alex Haley,” in slightly less red, slightly less large letters. Though Malcolm’s words are given to us through a sieve, they retain his agency; it is a dictation more-so than an interpretation. His diction is preserved as well, giving the reader the same matter-of-fact tone that comprised his speeches. These stories don’t seem to’ve been touched by more hands than one (well, two, I guess…), offering continuity in style. The life-lived content lends the personal feel that just his speech-voice on a page might lack.

     The chunk offered in our collection is almost the entirety of the chapter “Mascot” in the Full Premium Extra Black Nationalist Edition (served with chips (and a pickle)). The chapter explores Malcolm’s intermediary school days and his preliminary relationship with the white people surrounding him. Other than the blatantly obvious social inequality on display, we get an impression of Malcolm’s forming character; he is smart, a cracked-whip wit only checked by the system in which he was born. And funnily enough he has a sense of humour(!), evident in the sardonic smack with which he treats the white man’s silly ways, at once destroying the legitimacy they don’t have and revealing the indefensibility of their laws: “From my seat in—you guessed it—the back of the bus….” It works doubly-well as proof-positive for his initial anti-integration stance. The whole selection shows the supposed incompatibility of the two “races”.

     The memoir instills the same anger felt by the protagonist Mal. The Advisement Scene, where Malcolm is told he cannot be just about boils the blood on the Kelvin scale. The minor unfairnesses stack up into one major injustice, working to set your teeth by the end. “All praise due to Allah that I went to Boston when I did. If I hadn’t, I’d probably still be a brainwashed black Christian.” The final line drives home his point that the United States in the 1960s was fundamentally averse to black culture. As much as I respect the man, I’m glad we’re all in the pot together now, and gettin’ along. (Also REALLY GLAD I went with the baseball analogy “drives home his point” rather than describing the final line of the chapter as “the lynchpin” of his philosophy. That would’ve been, er, UNFORTUNATE).