<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8895237128214089656</id><updated>2011-04-21T21:59:10.175-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Women Lit</title><subtitle type='html'>My thoughts and views concerning women's literature</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kgwomlit.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8895237128214089656/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kgwomlit.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Kevin Guevarra</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16167812484688044764</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>8</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8895237128214089656.post-2958483839581990912</id><published>2007-12-11T15:21:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-12-11T15:23:06.805-06:00</updated><title type='text'>An American Brat</title><content type='html'>&lt;p style="font-family: trebuchet ms;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;i style=""&gt;An American Brat&lt;/i&gt; is a novel about a young Parsee girl, Feroza, who leaves Pakistan to travel to America.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;There she is introduced to the country by her uncle, Manek, who gives her his infinite knowledge of how to survive in America.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Wanting to continue her education, Feroza heads west to Idaho to attend a junior college.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;She becomes friends with her roommate, Jo, and they become real close.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;The two of them then move to Denver to get away from Idaho.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;In Denver, Feroza falls in love with a Jewish man, David and is as happy as ever.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;However, her parents hear of this and are outraged.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;To put a stop to this, Feroza’s mother, Zareen, travels all the way to Denver.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Consequently, her visit ultimately ends Feroza and David’s relationship.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Now, Feroza is just trying to pick herself back up in hopes that she may become happy again.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="font-family: trebuchet ms;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;The title of the novel refers to Feroza.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;This is apparent when Zareen tells Feroza that she has become an “American Brat” in regards to her not caring about her family (279).&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;All of this stems from Feroza wanting to marry a non-Parsee.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;However, it seems that the actual “American Brat” is Manek himself.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;When I think of the word “brat”, I tend to think arrogant and conceited.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Manek embodies this conception.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Since coming to America, he feels to be superior to those back home. &lt;span style=""&gt; &lt;/span&gt;His attitude demonstrates this. &lt;span style=""&gt; &lt;/span&gt;In his return home, he speaks highly of America calling it paradise and criticizes the way of life in Pakistan (198).&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;This attitude is also seen in his relationship with his wife.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;For instance, he argues to his wife that everything they need is in America and much better here (316).&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Although the novel may be titled after Feroza, the “American Brat” is Manek.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8895237128214089656-2958483839581990912?l=kgwomlit.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kgwomlit.blogspot.com/feeds/2958483839581990912/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8895237128214089656&amp;postID=2958483839581990912' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8895237128214089656/posts/default/2958483839581990912'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8895237128214089656/posts/default/2958483839581990912'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kgwomlit.blogspot.com/2007/12/american-brat.html' title='An American Brat'/><author><name>Kevin Guevarra</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16167812484688044764</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8895237128214089656.post-6865583168487062567</id><published>2007-11-30T10:48:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-11-30T10:50:03.745-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Breath, Eyes, Memory</title><content type='html'>&lt;p style="font-family: arial;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Breath, Eyes, and Memory&lt;/span&gt; is about the story of a young girl, Sophie, who reunites with a mother she hardly knows.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;As the years go by, Sophie learns of the horrifying past of her mother.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Consequently, she inherits this past and experiences her own pain and suffering.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;It is through this that makes Sophie and her mother closer to one another.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="font-family: arial;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;In reading this story, it was hard for me to understand why the rape of Sophie’s mother would continue to consume her entire life.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I know that it was a very traumatic event, but I would imagine that she would have gotten over it as she was more removed from it, in both time and place.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;She moved from Haiti to the United States to get away from this, but wherever she was it would still haunt her.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;As she got older, it seemed to get worse and worse.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;But it was towards the end of the story, where we are given a clue as to why Sophie’s mother lived in this constant state of fear.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Sophie’s therapist tells her that her mother never gave him a face and that’s why he’s a shadow and that’s why he controls her (209).&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Without a face, it could be any man that could have raped her.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Thus, it seems to make sense as to why she would be consumed by this rape.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;For Sophie’s mother to move past this, she would have to confront her fear and give this man a face.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;However, it was too late for her.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;She let the man who raped her get the best of her.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8895237128214089656-6865583168487062567?l=kgwomlit.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kgwomlit.blogspot.com/feeds/6865583168487062567/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8895237128214089656&amp;postID=6865583168487062567' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8895237128214089656/posts/default/6865583168487062567'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8895237128214089656/posts/default/6865583168487062567'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kgwomlit.blogspot.com/2007/11/breath-eyes-memory.html' title='Breath, Eyes, Memory'/><author><name>Kevin Guevarra</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16167812484688044764</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8895237128214089656.post-512246314005584774</id><published>2007-11-23T19:08:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-11-23T19:47:42.649-06:00</updated><title type='text'>The Joys of Motherhood</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;This novel is about the life of a Nigerian woman, Nnu Ego.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;She endures many struggles such as not being able to bear a child, having to move to a city, dealing with a new husband, and having to raise and support the children.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Despite minor setbacks, Nnu Ego perseveres through all of this.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;In this story, we see a conflict of traditional and modern values.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;This is apparent in the children of Nnu Ego and Nnaife.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;They expected their children to adhere to traditional values.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;However, these values were not in line with those of the society that they now lived in.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;For instance, Oshia was counted on to support the family.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Nnaife clearly expressed this as he asked Oshia when he was going to take on his family responsibilities (220).&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;But Oshia had no intentions of taking on these responsibilities.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;He had different values and plans of his own which included continuing his education in the States.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;He was never actually going to fulfill the role his parents wanted him to.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;All of this came as a shock to Nnaife who quickly disowned Oshia.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;On the other hand, Nnu Ego came to grips with this reality.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;She became aware that times were changing and that she could not always live life according to traditional values or force her children to do the same.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;The only she could do was support and love her son.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;“The joy of being a mother was the joy of giving all to your children” (224).&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;She did give everything, especially all her support to her children.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;She also let go of things like the children she deeply loved.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;It was out of this love that she did not fight the new values that were settling around her.&lt;span style=""&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8895237128214089656-512246314005584774?l=kgwomlit.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kgwomlit.blogspot.com/feeds/512246314005584774/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8895237128214089656&amp;postID=512246314005584774' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8895237128214089656/posts/default/512246314005584774'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8895237128214089656/posts/default/512246314005584774'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kgwomlit.blogspot.com/2007/11/joys-of-motherhood.html' title='The Joys of Motherhood'/><author><name>Kevin Guevarra</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16167812484688044764</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8895237128214089656.post-5665397896159134176</id><published>2007-10-31T12:51:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-10-31T12:52:38.873-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Annie John</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;i style=""&gt;Annie John&lt;/i&gt; tells the story of a girl’s road to becoming a young woman.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;All her life she has had such a close relationship with her mother. &lt;span style=""&gt; &lt;/span&gt;They would do everything together like take baths, go to the market, and so on.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;She found her mother to be beautiful and perfect.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;This is quite clear when she says “how important I felt to be with my mother” (15).&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Moreover, there was a deep love that she possessed for her.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;However, as she continued to get older their relationship deteriorated as well as the love she had for her mother.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;One day coming home from school, she comments that there was a bitter taste in seeing her mother and that she no longer loved her (53).&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;The story goes on to describe this love-hate relationship.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;As I was reading, I noticed that the deterioration of their relationship was not caused by any one person but by both Annie John and her mother.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;It could be argued that this strain on their relationship is all Annie John’s doing but it appears to be mutual.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Her mother started the pushing away.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;We see this in the beginning of the novel when she is told by her mother that “you just cannot go around the rest of your life looking like a little me” (26).&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Why would her mother start to destroy such a good thing?&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Annie resented this and began to push back. &lt;span style=""&gt; &lt;/span&gt;She began to confide in other females besides her mother such as Gwen and Red Girl.&lt;span style=""&gt;   &lt;/span&gt;Also, she became mischievous and kept secrets.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Things between both of them would never be the same.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;They even developed two faces of which one was for father and the rest of the world and one for when they found themselves alone with each other (87).&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Her mother had a lot to do with this tension.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;But in the end, their relationship could never be broken.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Though she despised her mother, Annie John still had love for her mother and she too for Annie John.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;What signified to me that this relationship would last is when her mother tells her that “it doesn’t matter what you do or where you go, I’ll always be your mother” (147).&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8895237128214089656-5665397896159134176?l=kgwomlit.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kgwomlit.blogspot.com/feeds/5665397896159134176/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8895237128214089656&amp;postID=5665397896159134176' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8895237128214089656/posts/default/5665397896159134176'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8895237128214089656/posts/default/5665397896159134176'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kgwomlit.blogspot.com/2007/10/annie-john.html' title='Annie John'/><author><name>Kevin Guevarra</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16167812484688044764</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8895237128214089656.post-1185287373415893280</id><published>2007-10-15T10:14:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-10-15T10:27:26.497-05:00</updated><title type='text'>The Girl in the Tangerine Scarf</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;What struck me just as much as Khadra was how her cousin Afaat and her friends acted.  &lt;span style=""&gt;&lt;/span&gt;Khadra was in a Muslim country and not just any Muslim country, but &lt;i style=""&gt;the&lt;/i&gt; Muslim country were Islam started (177).&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;She expected the people here would adhere to Islamic laws and customs.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Furthermore, she thought she would be home here.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;However, she had never so far from home.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;These girls Khadra was with took their veils off and were wearing lots of makeup.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;She was also in the presence of boys.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Drugs were being offered to her as well.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;No one seemed to care that what they were doing was wrong.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;All they were concerned about was just having a good time.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Kharda, on the other hand, could have none of this.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Everything that was going on around her made her sick and want to leave.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;Even more striking was the expectations that Afaat and her friends had of Khadra.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Khadra was American and they thought that she would be engaging in the things that they were doing.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;They also thought that she would approve of these things.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;This is clear when Afaat says, “Is this not as fun as what you do in America?” (178). &lt;span style=""&gt; &lt;/span&gt;But Khadra was not a typical American.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;She never did any of these things.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Afaat and her friends’ notions of what American are probably influenced by the media.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;In the end, everyone’s perception of each other was not what they had envisioned.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8895237128214089656-1185287373415893280?l=kgwomlit.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kgwomlit.blogspot.com/feeds/1185287373415893280/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8895237128214089656&amp;postID=1185287373415893280' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8895237128214089656/posts/default/1185287373415893280'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8895237128214089656/posts/default/1185287373415893280'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kgwomlit.blogspot.com/2007/10/girl-in-tangerine-scarf.html' title='The Girl in the Tangerine Scarf'/><author><name>Kevin Guevarra</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16167812484688044764</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8895237128214089656.post-734390465472426786</id><published>2007-10-13T15:56:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-10-13T15:57:48.157-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Kindred</title><content type='html'>&lt;p style="font-family: arial;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;Octavia Butler’s novel &lt;/span&gt;&lt;i style="font-family: arial;"&gt;Kindred&lt;/i&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt; tells the story of a modern black woman, Dana, who goes back into the antebellum South.  We follow Dana through all her hardships and struggles.  In reading the novel, I had noticed the role of education.  To have an educated slave was a threat to an owner.  A slave who was educated could possibly write his or her own pass and head North (101).  Consequently, an educated slave was more vulnerable to leave their owner.  From a business point of view, losing a slave was like losing a commodity.  In any kind of business, losing commodities meant also losing profit.  Thus, I can see why Weylin prevented his slaves from learning to read and write.  He wanted to keep his commodities and maintain his profit.  Besides the business aspect, having a slave leave meant that other slaves would attempt to leave as well.  Having a slave leave gave the others hope that they too could leave.  Another implication of having educated slaves was that they could teach the others slaves and that would just cause more problems for the owner.  Furthermore, discouraging slaves from learning seemed to be another technique just like using physical violence that would keep them in check. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8895237128214089656-734390465472426786?l=kgwomlit.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kgwomlit.blogspot.com/feeds/734390465472426786/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8895237128214089656&amp;postID=734390465472426786' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8895237128214089656/posts/default/734390465472426786'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8895237128214089656/posts/default/734390465472426786'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kgwomlit.blogspot.com/2007/10/kindred.html' title='Kindred'/><author><name>Kevin Guevarra</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16167812484688044764</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8895237128214089656.post-9010395937404812440</id><published>2007-10-10T13:15:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-10-10T13:18:16.088-05:00</updated><title type='text'>The House on Mango Street</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;i style=""&gt;The House on Mango Street&lt;/i&gt; by Sandra &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Cisneros&lt;/span&gt; is a collection of short tales narrated by the character Esperanza.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;These rich and colorful tales relate to us her heritage and upbringing.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Throughout these tales, Esperanza is focused on this idea of home.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Her house on Mango Street is not the ideal home she had envisioned.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;It was not aesthetically pleasing to her eyes.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;She wanted to have a real house.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Cisneros&lt;/span&gt; sums up Esperanza’s feelings when she says that “the house on Mango Street &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;isn&lt;/span&gt;’t it” (6).&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Even though it may not seem like the perfect house, it has given her so many things that no other house could give her.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;It has shaped and formed the person she is.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;It has also given her countless memories and experiences.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;These memories and experiences are the tales she is sharing with us.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Moreover, it is not what we see outside of the house but what we see inside that is most important.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Inside her house we see this notion of “the house made of heart” (&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;Cisneros&lt;/span&gt; 78).&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;A home is not truly a home without the people in it. &lt;span style=""&gt; &lt;/span&gt;Esperanza’s house is filled with so many people like her family and friends.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;These people make up the heart of that house and give it life.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Not only does Esperanza not like the house but wants to leave Mango Street.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;However, she cannot because it will always be with her.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;It will be with her in her thoughts and whatever else she does.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;No other house will come close in replacing the one on Mango Street.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8895237128214089656-9010395937404812440?l=kgwomlit.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kgwomlit.blogspot.com/feeds/9010395937404812440/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8895237128214089656&amp;postID=9010395937404812440' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8895237128214089656/posts/default/9010395937404812440'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8895237128214089656/posts/default/9010395937404812440'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kgwomlit.blogspot.com/2007/10/house-on-mango-street.html' title='The House on Mango Street'/><author><name>Kevin Guevarra</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16167812484688044764</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8895237128214089656.post-3229920746117089509</id><published>2007-09-05T12:06:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-09-05T12:08:06.633-05:00</updated><title type='text'>The Bluest Eye</title><content type='html'>&lt;p style="font-family: arial;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;During the course of reading the novel, I had noticed that many of the characters experienced a self hatred.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;This self hatred stemmed from not being accepted by society. &lt;span style=""&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt; &lt;/span&gt;In order to alleviate this, they believed that making themselves somehow white would be the answer.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;One of the characters who possessed such hatred was &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Pecola&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;From the beginning of the novel, it was evident that she was unhappy with herself.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;She believed that her unhappiness was related to her ugliness.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Imagining if she could only have blue eyes, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Pecola&lt;/span&gt; assumed that all her problems would be gone.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Moreover, I believe that she not only wanted to have blue eyes but to be white.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Along with this wishful thinking, her infatuation with Shirley Temple and wanting to eat Mary Jane candies exemplifies her longing to be white, and thus be accepted by society.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;To be white was considered perfection and to &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;Pecola&lt;/span&gt; being white would give her happiness she so desperately needed.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Another character who displayed self hatred was Mrs. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;Breedlove&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;She too felt that she was ugly.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Influenced by the movies, she tried to emulate the likes of white women such as Jean Harlow.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;As with &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;Pecola&lt;/span&gt;, Mrs. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;Breedlove&lt;/span&gt; found that being white was that gold standard.&lt;span style=""&gt;   &lt;/span&gt;With that notion she assimilated herself into white culture.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Her work in the Fisher house illustrates this.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Just being in the presence of white people gave Mrs. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;Breedlove&lt;/span&gt; meaning to her life.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Furthermore, these characters desired acceptance and being white was the only way to do so.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8895237128214089656-3229920746117089509?l=kgwomlit.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kgwomlit.blogspot.com/feeds/3229920746117089509/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8895237128214089656&amp;postID=3229920746117089509' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8895237128214089656/posts/default/3229920746117089509'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8895237128214089656/posts/default/3229920746117089509'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kgwomlit.blogspot.com/2007/09/bluest-eye.html' title='The Bluest Eye'/><author><name>Kevin Guevarra</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16167812484688044764</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry></feed>
