This Little Light of Mine

Caution to all blog readers: this week’s entry takes a turn towards the deep. I tried to come up with yet another witty anecdote about myself to share, but I cannot ignore the events that have occurred this past week. As I left eighth period commons on Friday, I received a text from my friend in Connecticut.  It read just this: “There was a shooting at an elementary school 25 minutes away.” I paused as I passed the central office. What did she mean? I drove home quickly to see my mom pouring over AOL news, and together we attempted to make sense of the terrible event. But, as it always does, life had to keep moving. I went to swim practice and came home to eat before I had to babysit that night. I sat down with my soup when I received an email from the University of Michigan, congratulating me on my acceptance! I could not contain my happiness, and I must admit I cried tears of joy right then and there. For a brief moment I erased all the grief from the day, and I only focused on the fact that my dream school actually wanted me amongst their student population. After many hugs and congratulations, I left to babysit. In the car, it hit me: how could I feel such joy when such a horrible thing had happened? I felt almost guilty for rejoicing in my acceptance when twenty children will never have the ability to experience the same. I came to the conclusion, however, that I should not take the tragedy in Newtown, Connecticut in this way. As my mom tells me and the disaster confirms, life is not a guarantee. Unlike the urn in John Keats’ “Ode on a Grecian Urn,” we move from day to day, scene to scene, trying to find what Jay Gatsby proves as the goal of life: happiness. If we overwhelm ourselves with tragedy and lose sight of life’s pleasures, then our lives will just become one big depress-fest. And nobody wants that. We should mourn and remember the dead, but our remembrance should go even further. We should celebrate moments like college acceptances, for they prove our vivacity and prosperity in a world with no guarantees.

 

Citizens Arrest!

            This past week, the unthinkable occurred: I, Alyssa Marquette, became a commonplace hooligan. Along with fellow AP Englisher/hardened criminal Abby Weber, I decided to leave eight period commons ten minutes early. I needed to assemble my supplies for the afternoon’s swim practice, so I figured that my necessity outweighed the associated disobedience of the insubordination. Alas, Mrs. E did not agree. Without going home, I returned to the school in a state of panic when friends called and relayed to me that Mrs. E had sent my name to Mr. Winton. I had no idea what to do, for my rebellious phase had peaked when I crossed my eyes at my eight grade band teacher. Thoroughly determined, Abby and I marched into Mr. Winton’s office to defend our honor. We earn decent grades, volunteer regularly, and do not have any sort of a record, so why should we obtain Saturday schools? Unfortunately, our punishment became just that. Our confidences crumbled, and Abby and I became blubbering messes. Every department head in Mr. Ast’s office had a perfect view of the two mutineers brought to justice, their reign of terror over the school finally brought to an end. In F. Scott Fitzgerald’s The Great Gatsby, the author reveals the illegal ways in which Jay Gatsby incurs his money. Although many readers may frown upon this discovery, I wish to give Gatsby a pat on the back. Good for him for wanting to make a better life for himself! After my mishap with the school law, I see myself as somewhat of an expert on the subject of criminality. Consequently, I throw my wholehearted allegiance to Gatsby’s plight. Just as I simply wished to acquire a bathing suit and towel from my house, Gatsby simply wants the finer things in life. Fortunately, my punishment has consisted only of a Saturday school and perpetual references to The Breakfast Club from my family. But Jay Gatsby’s insubordination comes with a much higher risk. For me, I think I must retire from a life of crime. I mean, really, with all the annotations I have to finish for AP English, who would have time for such an existence?!

Good Fences Hide Bad Neighbors

           

            As I skim through my recent blogs, I feel somewhat surprised as to the number of secrets I have confessed in the Chamber of AP English 12. From my love for cats to an inner desire to beat small children, my declarations seem to create an image of myself that many of my fellow classmates may repel. So why stop the fun now? I have yet another admission I wish to reveal: I love documentaries. I could literally spend an entire day watching various National Geographic specials. Through my perusal of various informational films, I have discovered an immense obsession with North Korea. Since my family has learned to tune me out whenever I find an opportunity to broach the subject, I turn to my fellow bloggers for understanding. Before anyone makes quick judgments, picture this: if America would earn a five on the AP grading scale, North Korea would earn a -12 for its concentration of wealth, widespread hunger, and isolationism.  Although North Korea’s northern neighbor, China, knows of the suffering that occurs in the country, they will send back any refugees who cross the border for a better life. In this situation, I cannot help but disagree with the age-old adage “‘good fences make good neighbors’” that Robert Frost espouses in his poem “Mending Wall” (44). Throughout the poem, the speaker’s neighbor’s repetition of this mantra eventually convinces the reluctant speaker to believe the validity of it. But what if the neighbor actually beats his child behind the wall? Even if the speaker knows of the suffering that occurs, the neighbor brainwashes the speaker, just as North Korea brainwashes China, into believing that boundaries serve a purpose. This analogy may come off as slightly twisted to the point of discomfort, but the reality of the state remains very real for North Korean refugees in China. From watching the documentaries that describe the conflict, I cannot help but want to fix the neighborly tensions between the countries. But my problem remains just that—I can only watch. I sit behind a computer screen, in all my teenage wisdom, silently cursing the stupidity of a country that has existed for over 5,000 years. I hope someday that China can find compromise with the antagonistic North Korea, and maybe I could even play a role. But for now, I think I will stick to simply writing out my frustrations and confessions for the world of AP English to hear.

The Babysitter's Club (Pun Intended)

At the ripe age of 13, I came upon the root of all evil in the world: money, or my personal lack thereof. With little inclination to partake in a “normal” part time job, I opted for child care. I even attended a program at the library in hopes of becoming the best babysitter in all of Chagrin Falls. As my business expanded, I realized my customer base mainly contained males. This did not surprise me, for these children seemed the easiest to entertain. Simply feed, bribe, and pit them against each other in order to lure them into sleep. I believed I had developed a fool proof method for the care of tiny men, but unfortunately my unparalleled babysitting skills had to meet their match. Let me introduce “Larry” and “Evan,” two boys aged six and five respectively. Not only do these boys scream, cry, fight, and talk back, but Evan has yet to learn how to use a toilet. He does not, however, wear a diaper. Needless to say, my frustration often hits its limits. Tonight, I found myself yet again babysitting these two tiny fiends. As I walked them upstairs, I realized that Evan had yet again wet his pants as a result of his inability to step away from a video game. After letting the child sit on my lap all night, I felt irate. But as I watched the boys fall into the humble clutches of sleep, I thought back to my AP English class’s discussion of happiness. Many espoused that a person can only find true happiness when he or she finds pleasure in the simplistic elements of life, such as surrounding oneself with family and friends, reading a good book, or listening to a good song. Who, I thought, could find anything simpler than a child? The world has not yet blinded a child from finding happiness in playing a computer game all night or reading Curious George to his or her heart’s content, making it easy to find joy. As a result of society’s image of happiness as a straightforward concept, I think we all constantly try to regress to the purity and innocence of youth. We can never really succeed, but the bliss we find in happiness brings us back to our effortless childhood. Although I often want to sprint from Larry and Evan’s house at full speed, I look fondly on their naïveté. One day they will discover the woes of the world, and they too will start on the road of regression that we all continually walk down.

The MarCATS.

As I sit down on my bed to write my second blog for AP English, I cannot help but feel a sense of discomfort. Two sets of gleaming, furry eyes lay focused on me, and their rumbling bodies purr. Yes, AP Englishers, I am a crazy cat lady. Although my house remains in balance with two dogs and two cats, I must admit that I spend the majority of my home time with my cats, Maisy and Tigger. One of my favorite discussions this year came as the discussion of jobs that we have held throughout our lives. Anna Witkin shared her tales of “cat sitting,” involving intricate joint exercises that she provided to the felines. Although I cannot say I have reached the levels of care that this cat owner extends to her pets, I do admit to caring for them just as much. Unfortunately, my family does not feel the same proclivity to Maisy and Tigger as I do. My dad often jokes about feeding each of them to circling hawks, and my brothers openly hiss whenever either walks by. They have even taught my dogs the same hatred—whenever someone ekes a “meow” from anywhere in the house, my dogs will literally BOLT in order to nose dive under my bed in search of their nemeses. I try to protect my cats, but more often than not my efforts fail, and the age-old canine versus feline battle ensues. I have noticed this same sort of protective nature evolve in certain characters of each short story we have read, even if their efforts remain equally futile as my own.  Although living through different scenarios, one thing every protector holds in common becomes how their actions prove relatively ineffective. The wife in “The Second Bakery Attack” may or may not have removed a curse. The Misfit’s gang shoots the grandmother’s family in “A Good Man Is Hard to Find”. Many citizens remain opposed to the presence of the inventor’s balloon in “The Balloon”. The police can do nothing to resurrect the old man in “The Tell-Tale Heart”. As students of AP English 12, we always put our best effort into every work we do. We may not receive our desired grade, but we can build from the experience in order to improve the next time. In order to stay true to the balloon inventor’s advice, I try not to search for too much deeper meaning in my cats. Even as I write, Tigger snores noisily and Maisy remains busy licking herself. I can only take from them the lesson of caring for something I love, ranging from my own home to my school work and beyond.

Stumbling Down Memory Lane

As senior year drives forward, many will look back on his or her high school experiences. He or she will lament on how fast time has gone, how it seems as if we have just begun our freshman year. I, on the other hand, cannot draw the same conclusion. Although I love Chagrin Falls and my high school experience, everything from sports to academics has made my last three years feel like ten. This sentiment, however, has led to a false sense of eternity—an eternity that will forever include lunch in commons, volleyball in the fall, and AP English with Ms. Serensky. In William Shakespeare’s The Winter’s Tale, Lord Archidamus believes “There is not in the world either/ malice or matter to alter” the friendship between Leontes and Polixenes (1.1.34-35).  The reader discovers that this claim holds no water, for their friendship dissipates soon after. Just like Archidamus believes in the strength of this friendship, I believe in the perpetuity of high school. I take for granted things like football games and seeing my best friends every day, for I cannot imagine a world where they do not exist. I recently experienced this alternate world with the completion of my volleyball season. I spent four falls with the same girls, the same coach, and the same gym. I had the same complaints at every practice, and the same poor attitude about my skills. But after losing the first two sets of the district final match, I looked to my fellow seniors and knew I could not hold this same disposition. In them I saw not only dejection, but also a wild desperation. This next match meant so much more than a championship—if we failed, we would lose each other. We would never again have the opportunity to play on the same court. All the skills we had learned felt so menial in comparison to the finality and shock that greeted me with the loss of that game. As my senior year continues, I know that both of these emotions will greet me again as graduation nears. I know that there will come a time in the very near future when my greatest stress is not writing an essay in under 40 minutes. Until then, my sense of forever cannot, and will not, fade.

Changed by Change

Throughout my young life, I have always hated change. I honestly cried when my parents wanted to repaint the living room. But after I read Pulitzer Prize winner Elizabeth Strout’s Olive Kitteredge, I began to see all the great things that can come from change. In a time when Americans elected the first African American president, change seemed inevitable in the novel. All characters fight their own demons, but only those who decide to make a change end up happy. For example, Strout introduces Angela O’Meara, a local pianist who has an ongoing affair with a married man. But after the man verbally abuses Angela, she proclaims that she will “not call him” again (60). The absolute diction of “not” implies that Angela will never change her mind on the matter. Although she feels dependent on the man, she wills herself to adjust. I see Angela’s choice as life altering, for now she can look towards a better future. Strout again illustrates this theme through Winnie, a girl whose sister Julie encourages her to leave her bedraggled home for a better life. When Winnie’s father asks if she wants pancakes, Winnie admits she “didn’t want pancakes” (199). Strout utilizes pancakes as a symbol for Winnie’s attachment to her family. By rejecting the pancakes, Winnie changes from a child dependent on her mother to a woman who will make her own decisions. I have seen through Winnie the power I can have over my own life, and that no one has to accept their fate. My favorite change, of course, comes with Olive herself. Olive ultimately finds love again and finally sees the world as a place she “did not want to leave” (270). Strout sharply juxtaposes this claim to her previous sentiment when Olive wished only to die quickly. The author also asserts how love can change people, but one must feel willing to change. Strout knows that many wish to change like her characters, and she encourages them to take that risk.  Although change can still give me a stomach ache, I know now that people like me have to accept the inevitable: the only thing constant comes as change.

Hover Parent

Since the dawn of time, children have rebelled against their parents. Classic movies such as The Breakfast Club and Freaky Friday demonstrate the adolescent need for freedom, and Elizabeth Strout demonstrates the effects of this timeless conflict in her novel Olive Kitteridge. Although every three out of ten young adults live at home, Strout, a Pulitzer Prize winner, illustrates the opposite scenario with Olive and her only son Christopher. Olive’s commanding personality creates resentment in Christopher that I believe may never resolve, therefore showing Olive’s flaws. Olive’s husband, Henry, first brings this conflict to Olive’s attention, claiming that Olive “‘took over that boy’s life’” (121). By indirectly characterizing Olive as overbearing, Strout asserts the effects of bossy parenting—eventually, the child will see reason to break ties. Although I love Olive dearly, I can see why Christopher could not stand this life. Olive herself acknowledges his cold shoulder when she secretly begs her son to “do something for me!” (149). Through both the italics and exclamation point, Strout emphasizes Olive’s desperate tone. But when Chris ignores his mother, the author implies the son’s bitterness. Although Olive hovered over Chris’ childhood, he will not do the reverse. The pained mother finally accepts her son’s separation when she thinks how he remains “in California…gone” (175). With the absolute connotations of “gone,” Strout creates an aggrieved tone from Olive. She put all her love towards Chris, but her rude demeanor wins out. Although Strout relies on pathos to create empathy felt by other mothers, I believe the empathy would remain just as strong if told from Christopher’s point of view. Strout writes to these mothers in order to encourage them to love their child yet never overbear. She addresses the opposite goes for their children: try to understand their parent’s love, because they may not have the ability to fix a broken relationship. I see this conflict with kids my own age as well. I hope that they can redirect their frustration in order to better relate to the elder generation, a task that Christopher Kitteridge thoroughly ignores.

Olive You!

Marilyn Monroe once said “Well behaved women rarely make history,” and I believe Elizabeth Strout takes this assertion to heart in her novel Olive Kitteridge. Strout, a Pulitzer Prize winner, writes of Olive, a school teacher who holds bold opinions on life. Although Olive’s profession does not stand out in a time when women made up 82 percent of educators, nobody who encounters her will ever forget her. I love Olive for her sassy take on life, yet she still develops as a sensitive woman throughout the first third of the novel. Strout first introduces my favorite character when Olive describes her husband’s assistant as looking “‘like a mouse’” (5). Through the weak connotations of “mouse,” Strout creates a critical tone from Olive, indirectly characterizing her as harsh. Even with his negative trait, I see Olive as unafraid to speak her mind. Many women today still do not hold this quality. Strout exposes another side to Olive when the woman bumps into an old student, Kevin Coulson, and admits “‘I’ve thought of you’” (37). Strout indirectly characterizes Olive this time as caring for thinking of this boy who lost his mother to suicide. The author applies Kevin as a synecdoche for Olive’s students: although she often appears bitter, she truly wants to protect them all. The author again displays Olive’s softer side at her son’s wedding, claiming that newlyweds believe “they’re finished with loneliness” (68). By asserting this falsity that her son and his bride surely believe, Strout renders Olive’s emotions to the world. Although she surrounds herself with people, she still feels alone. I believe women today often feel this emotion, yet remain afraid to speak their mind. Strout writes to these women to demonstrate to them that if they trust in themselves, they will not need the acceptance of others. Strout applies this to older women as well—age does not mean one cannot speak their mind. I see people judging the Olives of the world every day, and I hope that they will notice the sensitive side of this group, just like the real Olive Kitteridge holds in Strout’s novel.

Golden Opprotunity

With the summer Olympics in full swing, several Americans have fixed their attention on one color: gold. Many athletes have worked their entire lives to attain this color, similar to the way Will and Jim fight for it in Ray Bradbury’s Something Wicked This Way Comes. Bradbury, an Emmy-award winner, describes Will and Jim’s constant battle between light and dark in the era of the baby-boomers. The boys always fight for the goodness surrounding light; therefore, I believe that the color gold best represents the conflict between the boys and Mr. Dark. Bradbury first introduces Dark when they see the evil man from a distance, and as they watched, “darkness came” (53). Through the mysterious connotations of “darkness,” Bradbury implies the ominous power he possesses. Without the power of light, Will and Jim have no means to stop this monstrosity from entering their town. But the author describes an instance where the boys face the opposite element when coming out of a Mirror Maze, and they “stepped into sunlight” (65). The Mirror Maze, a creation of Mr. Dark, tortures its victims by showing them images of themselves at a desirable age. Bradbury utilizes the golden “sunlight” as a symbol for safety, sharply juxtaposing the color to the darkness surrounding the villain’s contraption. The author carries this symbol until the end of the story after the victory over Dark when Will, his father, and Jim all walk into the night as “the moon watched” (289). The illuminating connotations of “moon” again juxtapose the darkness of the night, a symbol for the menacing power Mr. Dark previously held. By utilizing light of the moon as a symbol for justice, Bradbury asserts that good men will always triumph over the evils of darkness. The author sends this message to those who struggle to fight their own demons, encouraging them to find joy through the golden light. Conversely, Bradbury also addresses villains such as Dark, displaying how their evil can never prevail. I see the color gold as a symbol of hope, not only carrying the dreams of Olympians but also those of everyday Americans to a better tomorrow.  

Father's Love

Growing up, every child longs for their father’s love and approval. If a child gains these gifts, his or her self-confident can grow exponentially. Emmy award winner Ray Bradbury highlights this assertion in his novel, Something Wicked This Way Comes. Bradbury tells of two boys who discover a magic carnival. One boy, Jim Nightshade, lives only with his mother, while his best friend, Will Halloway, resides with both parents. Although nine percent of children grew up with a single parent in the 1960s, Bradbury writes with admiration of Will’s father, Charles Halloway. The author describes Mr. Halloway as a brave and trustworthy man, two traits that I would like to embody. Bradbury first highlights these traits when the father confronts his son, stating “‘you didn’t steal anything’” (131). Through this blunt claim, Bradbury illustrates his unwavering trust in his son’s innocence. If I could embody Mr. Halloway, I would hope my assurance in my child’s character would remain just as steadfast. Again the author writes favorably of Mr. Halloway when the father tries to stop the evil Mr. Dark from finding Will and Jim by accusing him of acting “jumpy” (174). By criticizing the villain of acting obsessed over such innocence, Mr. Halloway leaves Mr. Dark irate. Bradbury indirectly characterizes Will’s father as brave for protecting the children, an action that I would hope to take for my child. The novelist further justifies Mr. Halloway’s integrity when he explains “I hate…not being able” (130). Although Bradbury expresses Halloway’s regret through the bitter diction “hate,” he highlights the man’s nobility when the father ignores his own troubles in order to help Will and Jim. The author applies this message to parents today to encourage them to protect their children from the evils of the world. In my life, I see men such as Mr. Halloway as everyday heroes that make a great difference in many lives. Although some men wish to return to the joy of youth, Bradbury emphasizes that protecting others will ultimately bring superior self-satisfaction than nostalgia ever could.

YOUthful Style

Throughout the first third of Something Wicked This Way Comes, Ray Bradbury’s stylistic choices greatly affect his writing, a passion of his since age eleven. Bradbury tells of Jim Nightshade and Will Halloway, two boys who discover magic in a traveling carnival. The author writes from a time when boys often pushed the limits, such as the members of the band The Beatles. In order to emphasize their curiosity, Bradbury often switches from a third person point of view to second, a stylistic choice that I find highly effective for his novel. The author applies this technique when describing a habit of Jim’s: “you never look away” from the world (40). By using Jim as a synecdoche, Bradbury asserts why young boys often feel inquisitive. In switching to second person, he creates pathos felt by those who explore. Consequently, Bradbury generates empathy towards Jim’s wayward character. Again the author uses this style through Will’s father, claiming “you’re…nearest to dead” at three AM (59). Through the use of second person, the author escalates the anticipation of those who awaken at this hour. While his pathos entrances the reader, Bradbury juxtaposes the anxiety of the elder generation to the excitement of their children, who await the night’s wonders. The author additionally describes a night time ritual for Jim and Will by using this stylistic choice: whenever one boy plays a certain tune on an old board, “you could tell the… venture” (94). By using the boyish diction of “venture,” Bradbury creates an elated tone. He again produces pathos through the pronoun “you” and this elation, a relatable emotion for those who have pursued the night. Overall, the author’s ability to smoothly transition from third to second person not only effectively communicates the novel’s main themes, but it also expresses to young boys the fun of exploration. I believe that those who look down on the use of this technique will see intricacy it adds to the developing lives of Will and Jim.  Bradbury intends to win over these skeptical readers by placing them in the boys' “ventures,” which the lads will never forget.

A Very Potter Party

Although I enjoyed many of the characters throughout Crooked Letter, Crooked Letter, I especially liked Silas “32” Jones. Tom Franklin, who earned his MFA in fiction, describes Silas as a brave boy who never let court-ordered integration hold him back. Silas ignored cruel racism to become a baseball star even though one in eight Americans still identify as racist. As a result of his perseverance, I believe Silas deserves two Potter-filled gifts for his birthday: polyjuice potion and a time turner. Silas’ first gift, polyjuice potion, gives him the ability to change into another character. Silas admits to Larry Ott, his boyhood friend, that he would often “wish I [Silas] was you [Larry]” as a child (256). Franklin applies situational irony in regards to the social status of both men. Why would Silas, a respected official, wish to become a hated man? Silas needs the polyjuice potion in order to experience Larry’s constant searing loneliness. Another fantastic birthday present for Silas would come as the time turner. For example, Silas describes the night he “took the car” without permission (203). By utilizing the car as a symbol for Silas’ wrongdoings, Franklin creates a remorseful tone. If Silas had a time turner, he would have the ability to respect his mother’s wishes and show his love. Franklin again illustrates Silas’ remorse through Larry Ott. Silas never admitted to having accompanied Cindy Walker on the night she disappears, leading everyone to assume Larry’s guilt. When discussing the decision, Silas states he wishes he could “‘do it differently’” (207). Through the regretful connotations of “differently,” Franklin implies Silas’ ongoing guilt. With the help of the time turner, Silas could face his cowardly past in order to clear Larry’s name. Throughout the novel, Franklin impresses upon those with guilt in their lives to confront their pasts. Even without a time turner, one can still try to right their wrongs. He also advises those who envy others to hold back their jealousy. I personally loved watching Silas grow to his full potential, and I hope that others who feel lost in their lives can gain the confidence that Silas emulates. 

Tears for a Small Town

            In the second third of Crooked Letter, Crooked Letter, Tom Franklin creates a plethora of tear- jerking moments. Although he grew up in a small town in Alabama, Franklin describes the disappearance of Larry Ott’s childhood crush, Cindy Walker, with deep empathy. The subject of abduction hit home for many Americans in the 1970s who blamed the inadequacy of law enforcement. Abduction remains prevalent in society today, with adults reporting a missing child every 40 seconds. I felt like crying the most at the disappearance because of the disastrous consequences it brings for Larry, extending far into his adult years. Although Larry plans an exciting night for his first date, Cindy wishes to meet her secret boyfriend. Larry resists, pleading “‘I don’t want to’” (129). Through the uneasy diction of “don’t,” Franklin foreshadows the horrors the night will hold. He also creates dramatic irony: how could Larry know that helping Cindy would lead to her disappearance? Larry’s apprehension heightens when he goes to meet with Cindy, but he sees “no car” (132). As a result of the negative connotations of “no”, the author implies the horrible outcome: Cindy’s disappearance.  For the next 25 years, the town assumes Larry’s guilt. As a result, the citizens ostracizes him. After years of isolation, Larry realizes how “empty” he has become as a result of this abandonment (182). Through the negative denotations of “empty,” Franklin implies the terrible solitude Larry wrongly endures. The author also asserts that all humans need companionship. Without friends, one’s life can become unbearable. Ultimately, in the second third of the book, Franklin acknowledges many opposing groups in Larry’s town. He addresses those who judge other too swiftly, encouraging them to take a second look at any situation. But on a more negative note, he attacks child abductors in order to show them the cruelty of their actions. I personally could hardly control my emotions as I read of poor Larry’s predicament. I can only hope for the people who live in solitude throughout the world to stand strong, just as Larry Ott does.

Consoling Counsel

Throughout Crooked Letter, Crooked Letter, Tom Franklin, a southern man himself, illustrates Larry Ott as a meek yet defiant boy growing up in Mississippi. Larry’s small town still stands racially divided: a common trait in a land still stricken by the effects of the Jim Crow era.  Larry often conflicts with his father, Carl Ott, in regards to the social boundaries that he crosses when he befriends a black boy, Silas Jones. The bigotry that Larry experiences still stands in America today, as one in every eight Americans identifies themselves as racist. If I could advise Larry Ott during his troubled childhood, I would recommend that he separates himself from his father’s cruel antics in order to gain happiness with Silas at his side. Franklin first indicates Larry’s destructive relationship with his father when he states that Carl “liked…everyone except him” (38). Franklin applies situational irony in this instance in regards to the love a father should feel for his son. He also implies the shame that Carl feels towards his son, a pain that Larry must escape in order to develop self- confidence. Again Carl Ott delivers more erroneous lessons when he refers to Silas as “‘that nigger boy’” (84). Through the negative denotations of “nigger,” Franklin indirectly characterizes Carl as hateful. In order to avoid such narrow-minded thinking, Larry must escape his father’s ignorance. Carl Ott ultimately displays his true colors when he confronts Silas about the gun he borrows from Larry, and Carl tells the boys to “‘fight’” (89). By pitting Silas and Larry against each other, Franklin implies the end of the unusual friendship. If Larry had a single friend when entering high school, he could have avoided the solitary life that he eventually leads. Overall, Franklin addresses many issues in the first third of his book. He criticizes the actions of men similar to Carl Ott in order to convince them to act open-minded instead of ignorant. He also addresses isolated children similar to Larry to convince them to approach new people to gain their friendship. After the first third of the novel, I hope that Larry finally defies his father, and that other neglected children find the courage to do the same.