Lesson 9: Overview and To Do List
Overview
Lesson 9 introduces critical approaches to Literature and the Changing Roles of Women in literature.
Learning Outcomes
At the end of this unit the learner will be able to:
- Demonstrate an understanding of literature that addresses the changing roles of women .
- Analyze, interpret, and evaluate a variety of texts for the ethical and logical uses of evidence.
- Respond to literature with rational judgments supported by evidence.
To Do List
In order to successfully complete Lesson 9, please do the following:
Lesson Check List
Readings
- Read “Critical Approaches” A1 to A3 (textbook)
- Read “Emphasis on the Text” A4 to A9 (textbook)
- Read:
- “Trifles” by Susan Glaspell (textbook)
- “The Storm” by Kate Chopin Download “The Storm” by Kate Chopin(link)
- “The Story of an Hour” by Kate Chopin (textbook)
- “Girl” by Jamaica Kincaid (textbook)
- “The Yellow Wallpaper” by Charlotte Perkins Gilman (textbook)
- “Why I Wrote the Yellow Wallpaper” by Charlotte Perkins Gilman (textbook)
- Resource to Accompany “The Yellow Wall Paper “Links to an external site.(link)
- “To The Ladies” by Mary, Lady Chudleigh (textbook)
- “Aunt Jennifer’s Tigers” by Adrienne (textbook)
- “The Changeling” by Judith Ortiz Cofer (textbook)
- “Still I Rise” by Maya Angelou (textbook)
- “Daystar” by Rita Dove (textbook)
- “Boys and Girls” by Alice Munro (textbook)
Presentation: What is Literary Criticism?
What is literary criticism?
Literary criticism is a way to examine and explore texts through different “lenses” or areas of study. It is literally just the different ways of reading and interpreting stories, poetry, prose, drama, etc. This may be a new concept to you and that is perfectly fine. You may not understand each theory or what it is trying to do or you may only understand parts of it. All of that is okay.
Here are a few thoughts:
- Learning criticism and theory can be daunting.
- Some scholars dedicate their entire lives studying only one or two theories. But don’t lose heart! Most people find a favorite theory (like feminism) and learn how to apply it everywhere.
- The way literature is read changes as society grows and changes.
- Feminism wasn’t even a thing before the mid to late 1800’s. Up until then, women had no voice and no real place outside of the home. A woman couldn’t work, she was thoroughly dependent on her father, and she was often forced to marry. If her father died then she would become her brother’s responsibility, or an uncle, but never her own. Before the women’s suffrage movement, female presence in literature was thought to be minor. But now, scholars can take stories that have been written throughout literary history and find the strong female voice hidden everywhere. This is called doing a “feminist reading” of the text but this is how all theories work: doing a “historical reading” or “post-colonial reading”.
- Critical theory helps to give us insight, as readers, and a better understanding of the story by studying the factors that influence the story.
- Scholars use journal articles to discuss, and often argue, these factors. Some scholars may openly state that they are doing a “feminist reading” (or some sort of reading) of a story but just as often, the scholar doesn’t mention it outright. Therefore, it is important for you to have an idea of the different literary theories so that you are able to recognize them.
- It is also worth noting that this way of looking at things exists outside of literature as well.
- These critical approaches mirror society, which makes them beneficial to know in so many other industries like marketing and business, even the medical field. Really anything that deals with people.
A few of the more common critical theory approaches are:
- Feminism- reads text with a focus on female agency/voice.
- Formalism- reads a text and focuses on the format, diction, word choices, etc. How the story is put together physically and mechanically.
- Gender and Queer Studies- reads a text with a focus on sexuality of marginalized groups.
- Historical Context- helps to define a text based on what was happening historically.
- There may be a difference between the author’s historical context and the story’s historical context.
- Social Context- defines the text based on the belief system of the society that the text was written in or written about.
- There may be a difference between the author’s social context and the story’s social context.
- Post-colonialism- reads a text with a focus on the effects of 17th and 18th century European rule (the colonization of Native American, African, Indian, etc.. cultures).
Further readings:
The textbook explains literary criticism and how it works starting on page A1.
Module 9 Reflective Writing Assignment
Assignment Overview
Respond: These are reflective writing opportunities. Use these as experimental spaces – ask questions, think about readings, reflect on your own work, expand on ideas brought up during discussions, prepare for upcoming assignments, consider new ideas.
Choose one of the stories/poems that we read this week and complete a 400-500 words reader response. Re-read the story with one of the critical lenses that we learned this week. In your reader response, you must show how this reading works in the story. Remember, reader responses are truly your response to this story and the different ways that it can be interpreted. It is your opinion, but it still needs to be written in a professional manner.
Your writings should be:
- About 400-500 words long
- Related to the readings, assignments, and/or discussions from this week
- Evidence of critical thinking
- Follow MLA formatting guidelines.
You should avoid:
- Copy / pasting from other submissions
- Focusing on a reading from a different module only (you can connect this week to a previous week, though)
- Unprofessional discourse
- Conversational language (you, I, etc.)
Guidelines
Your response should be cohesive (in paragraph form, not as a list). Use academic writing conventions, and proofread and edit before submitting. There is no need to consult any outside sources, but if you’d like to quote an article, be sure to include an MLA-style citation. All quotes should be in quotation marks (see MLA Help in Resources area for advice on this).
Your journal entry should be a cohesive 400-500 word entry.
poemand story are from textbook( Mays, Kelly J., editor. The Norton Introduction to Literature. 13th ed., shorter version, Norton,
2018.
poem
Still I rise by Maya Angelou
PAGE 838
You may write me down in history With your bitter, twisted lies, You may trod me in the very dirt But still, like dust, I’ll rise.
PAGE 839
Does my sassiness upset you? Why are you beset with gloom?
’Cause I walk like I’ve got oil wells Pumping in my living room.
10
Just like moons and like suns, With the certainty of tides, Just like hopes springing high, Still I’ll rise.
15
Did you want to see me broken? Bowed head and lowered eyes? Shoulders falling down like teardrops, Weakened by my soulful cries.
Does my haughtiness offend you? Don’t you take it awful hard
20
’Cause I laugh like I’ve got gold mines Diggin’ in my own back yard.
You may shoot me with your words, You may cut me with your eyes, You may kill me with your hatefulness, But still, like air, I’ll rise.
25
Does my sexiness upset you? Does it come as a surprise That I dance like I’ve got diamonds At the meeting of my thighs?
30
Out of the huts of history’s shame I rise Up from a past that’s rooted in pain I rise I’m a black ocean, leaping and wide, Welling and swelling I bear in the tide.
35 40
Leaving behind nights of terror and fear I rise Into a daybreak that’s wondrously clear I rise Bringing the gifts that my ancestors gave, I am the dream and the hope of the slave. I rise I rise I rise.
1978
A Story
Kate Chopin (1850-1904)
The Storm (1898)
I
The leaves were so still that even Bibi thought it was going to rain. Bobinôt, who was
accustomed to converse on terms of perfect equality with his little son, called the child‟s
attention to certain sombre clouds that were rolling with sinister intention from the west,
accompanied by a sullen, threatening roar. They were at Friedheimer‟s store and decided to
remain there till the storm had passed. They sat within the door on two empty kegs. Bibi was
four years old and looked very wise.
“Mama‟ll be „fraid, yes,” he suggested with blinking eyes.
“She‟ll shut the house. Maybe she got Sylvie helpin‟ her this evenin‟,” Bobinôt
responded reassuringly.
“No; she ent got Sylvie. Sylvie was helpin‟ her yistiday,” piped Bibi.
Bobinôt arose and going across to the counter purchased a can of shrimps, of which
Calixta was very fond. Then he returned to his perch on the keg and sat stolidly holding the can
of shrimps while the storm burst. It shook the wooden store and seemed to be ripping great
furrows in the distant field. Bibi laid his little hand on his father‟s knee and was not afraid.
II
Calixta, at home, felt no uneasiness for their safety. She sat at a side window sewing
furiously on a sewing machine. She was greatly occupied and did not notice the approaching
storm. But she felt very warm and often stopped to mop her face on which the perspiration
gathered in beads. She unfastened her white sacque at the throat. It began to grow dark, and
suddenly realizing the situation she got up hurriedly and went about closing windows and doors.
2
Out on the small front gallery she had hung Bobinôt‟s Sunday clothes to dry and she
hastened out to gather them before the rain fell. As she stepped outside, AlcéeLaballière rode in
at the gate. She had not seen him very often since her marriage, and never alone. She stood there
with Bobinôt‟s coat in her hands, and the big rain drops began to fall. Alcée rode his horse under
the shelter of a side projection where the chickens had huddled and there were plows and a
harrow piled up in the corner.
“May I come and wait on your gallery till the storm is over, Calixta?” he asked.
“Come „long in, M‟sieurAlcée.”
His voice and her own startled her as if from a trance, and she seized Bobinôt‟s vest.
Alcée, mounting to the porch, grabbed the trousers and snatched Bibi‟s braided jacket that was
about to be carried away by a sudden gust of wind. He expressed an intention to remain outside,
but it was soon apparent that he might as well have been out in the open: the water beat in upon
the boards in driving sheets, and he went inside, closing the door after him. It was even necessary
to put something beneath the door to keep the water out.
“My! what a rain! It‟s good two years since it rain‟ like that,” exclaimed Calixta as she
rolled up a piece of bagging and Alcée helped her to thrust it beneath the crack.
She was a little fuller of figure than five years before when she married; but she had lost
nothing of her vivacity. Her blue eyes still retained their melting quality; and her yellow hair,
dishevelled by the wind and rain, kinked more stubbornly than ever about her ears and temples.
The rain beat upon the low, shingled roof with a force and clatter that threatened to break
an entrance and deluge them there. They were in the dining room—the sitting room—the general
utility room. Adjoining was her bed room, with Bibi‟s couch alongside her own. The door stood
3
open, and the room with its white, monumental bed, its closed shutters, looked dim and
mysterious.
Alcée flung himself into a rocker and Calixta nervously began to gather up from the floor
the lengths of a cotton sheet which she had been sewing.
“If this keeps up, Dieu sait if the levees goin‟ to stan it!” she exclaimed.
“What have you got to do with the levees?”
“I got enough to do! An‟ there‟sBobinôt with Bibi out in that storm—if he only didn‟ left
Friedheimer‟s!”
“Let us hope, Calixta, that Bobinôt‟s got sense enough to come in out of a cyclone.”
She went and stood at the window with a greatly disturbed look on her face. She wiped
the frame that was clouded with moisture. It was stiflingly hot. Alcée got up and joined her at the
window, looking over her shoulder. The rain was coming down in sheets obscuring the view of
far-off cabins and enveloping the distant wood in a gray mist. The playing of the lightning was
incessant. A bolt struck a tall chinaberry tree at the edge of the field. It filled all visible space
with a blinding glare and the crash seemed to invade the very boards they stood upon.
Calixta put her hands to her eyes, and with a cry, staggered backward. Alcée‟s arm
encircled her, and for an instant he drew her close and spasmodically to him.
“Bonté!” she cried, releasing herself from his encircling arm and retreating from the
window, “the house‟ll go next! If I only knew w‟ere Bibi was!” She would not compose herself;
she would not be seated. Alcée clasped her shoulders and looked into her face. The contact of her
warm, palpitating body when he had unthinkingly drawn her into his arms, had aroused all the
old-time infatuation and desire for her flesh.
4
“Calixta,” he said, “don‟t be frightened. Nothing can happen. The house is too low to be
struck, with so many tall trees standing about. There! aren‟t you going to be quiet? say, aren‟t
you?” He pushed her hair back from her face that was warm and steaming. Her lips were as red
and moist as pomegranate seeds. Her white neck and a glimpse of her full, firm bosom disturbed
him powerfully. As she glanced up at him the fear in her liquid blue eyes had given place to a
drowsy gleam that unconsciously betrayed a sensuous desire. He looked down into her eyes and
there was nothing for him to do but to gather her lips in a kiss. It reminded him of Assumption.
“Do you remember—in Assumption, Calixta?” he asked in a low voice broken by
passion. Oh! she remembered; for in Assumption he had kissed her and kissed her; until his
senses would well nigh fail, and to save her he would resort to a desperate flight. If she was not
an immaculate dove in those days, she was still inviolate; a passionate creature whose very
defenselessness had made her defense, against which his honor forbade him to prevail. Now—
well, now—her lips seemed in a manner free to be tasted, as well as her round, white throat and
her whiter breasts.
They did not heed the crashing torrents, and the roar of the elements made her laugh as
she lay in his arms. She was a revelation in that dim, mysterious chamber; as white as the couch
she lay upon. Her firm, elastic flesh that was knowing for the first time its birthright, was like a
creamy lily that the sun invites to contribute its breath and perfume to the undying life of the
world.
The generous abundance of her passion, without guile or trickery, was like a white flame
which penetrated and found response in depths of his own sensuous nature that had never yet
been reached.
5
When he touched her breasts they gave themselves up in quivering ecstasy, inviting his
lips. Her mouth was a fountain of delight. And when he possessed her, they seemed to swoon
together at the very borderland of life‟s mystery.
He stayed cushioned upon her, breathless, dazed, enervated, with his heart beating like a
hammer upon her. With one hand she clasped his head, her lips lightly touching his forehead.
The other hand stroked with a soothing rhythm his muscular shoulders.
The growl of the thunder was distant and passing away. The rain beat softly upon the
shingles, inviting them to drowsiness and sleep. But they dared not yield.
The rain was over; and the sun was turning the glistening green world into a palace of
gems. Calixta, on the gallery, watched Alcée ride away. He turned and smiled at her with a
beaming face; and she lifted her pretty chin in the air and laughed aloud.
III
Bobinôt and Bibi, trudging home, stopped without at the cistern to make themselves
presentable.
“My! Bibi, w‟at will yo‟ mama say! You ought to be ashame‟. You oughta‟ put on those
good pants. Look at „em! An‟ that mud on yo‟ collar! How you got that mud on yo‟ collar, Bibi?
I never saw such a boy!” Bibi was the picture of pathetic resignation. Bobinôt was the
embodiment of serious solicitude as he strove to remove from his own person and his son‟s the
signs of their tramp over heavy roads and through wet fields. He scraped the mud off Bibi‟s bare
legs and feet with a stick and carefully removed all traces from his heavy brogans. Then,
prepared for the worst—the meeting with an over-scrupulous housewife, they entered cautiously
at the back door.
6
Calixta was preparing supper. She had set the table and was dripping coffee at the hearth.
She sprang up as they came in.
“Oh, Bobinôt! You back! My! but I was uneasy. W‟ere you been during the rain? An‟
Bibi? he ain‟t wet? he ain‟t hurt?” She had clasped Bibi and was kissing him effusively.
Bobinôt‟s explanations and apologies which he had been composing all along the way, died on
his lips as Calixta felt him to see if he were dry, and seemed to express nothing but satisfaction at
their safe return.
“I brought you some shrimps, Calixta,” offered Bobinôt, hauling the can from his ample
side pocket and laying it on the table.
“Shrimps! Oh, Bobinôt! you too good fo‟ anything!” and she gave him a smacking kiss
on the cheek that resounded, “J’vousréponds, we‟ll have a feas‟ to-night! umph-umph!”
Bobinôt and Bibi began to relax and enjoy themselves, and when the three seated
themselves at table they laughed much and so loud that anyone might have heard them as far
away as Laballière‟s.
IV
AlcéeLaballière wrote to his wife, Clarisse, that night. It was a loving letter, full of
tender solicitude. He told her not to hurry back, but if she and the babies liked it at Biloxi, to stay
a month longer. He was getting on nicely; and though he missed them, he was willing to bear the
separation a while longer—realizing that their health and pleasure were the first things to be
considered.
7
V
As for Clarisse, she was charmed upon receiving her husband‟s letter. She and the babies
were doing well. The society was agreeable; many of her old friends and acquaintances were at
the bay. And the first free breath since her marriage seemed to restore the pleasant liberty of her
maiden days. Devoted as she was to her husband, their intimate conjugal life was something
which she was more than willing to forego for a while.
Sothe storm passed and everyone was happy.
