2. Stories
• Edgar Allen Poe, The Tell-Tale Heart
• Ernest Hemingway, Hills Like White Elephants
• Jay McInerney, It’s 6 AM, Do You Know Who
You Are?
• Edwidge Danticat, Wall of Fire Rising
5. First Person Narrators
Now this is the point. You fancy me mad. Madmen know nothing. But you should have
seen me. You should have seen how wisely I proceeded --with what caution --with
what foresight --with what dissimulation I went to work! I was never kinder to the
old man than during the whole week before I killed him. And every night, about
midnight, I turned the latch of his door and opened it --oh so gently! And then,
when I had made an opening sufficient for my head, I put in a dark lantern, all
closed, closed, that no light shone out, and then I thrust in my head. Oh, you
would have laughed to see how cunningly I thrust it in! I moved it slowly --very,
very slowly, so that I might not disturb the old man's sleep. It took me an hour to
place my whole head within the opening so far that I could see him as he lay upon
his bed. Ha! would a madman have been so wise as this, And then, when my head
was well in the room, I undid the lantern cautiously-oh, so cautiously --cautiously
(for the hinges creaked) --I undid it just so much that a single thin ray fell upon the
vulture eye. And this I did for seven long nights --every night just at midnight --but
I found the eye always closed; and so it was impossible to do the work; for it was
not the old man who vexed me, but his Evil Eye. And every morning, when the day
broke, I went boldly into the chamber, and spoke courageously to him, calling him
by name in a hearty tone, and inquiring how he has passed the night. So you see
he would have been a very profound old man, indeed, to suspect that every night,
just at twelve, I looked in upon him while he slept.
6. YOU don't know about me without you
have read a book by the name of The
Adventures of Tom Sawyer; but that
ain't no matter. That book was made
by Mr. Mark Twain, and he told the
truth, mainly. There was things
which he stretched, but mainly he
told the truth. That is nothing. I
never seen anybody but lied one
time or another, without it was Aunt
Polly, or the widow, or maybe Mary.
Aunt Polly -- Tom's Aunt Polly, she is - and Mary, and the Widow Douglas
is all told about in that book, which is
mostly a true book, with some
stretchers, as I said before.
7.
8.
9.
10.
11.
12.
13. Jonathan Harker's Journal
3 May. Bistritz. __Left Munich at 8:35 P. M, on 1st May, arriving at Vienna
early next morning; should have arrived at 6:46, but train was an hour
late. Buda-Pesth seems a wonderful place, from the glimpse which I
got of it from the train and the little I could walk through the streets. I
feared to go very far from the station, as we had arrived late and
would start as near the correct time as possible.
The impression I had was that we were leaving the West and entering the
East; the most western of splendid bridges over the Danube, which is
here of noble width and depth, took us among the traditions of
Turkish rule.
We left in pretty good time, and came after nightfall to Klausenburgh.
Here I stopped for the night at the Hotel Royale. I had for dinner, or
rather supper, a chicken done up some way with red pepper, which
was very good but thirsty. (Mem. get recipe for Mina.) I asked the
waiter, and he said it was called "paprika hendl," and that, as it was a
national dish, I should be able to get it anywhere along the
Carpathians.
14.
15. First Person Narrator
• Point-of-view: Limited or Subjective or
Objective
• Perspective: Reliable or Unreliable
• Relationship to Reader: Deepens or becomes
challenged
• Relationship to story: Insider or Outsider /
Observer or Participant
30. Omniscient
• “Eye of God”
• Knows all / sees
all / tells all
• Objective
• Detached
An OBSERVER
(Not much internal
perspective)
Subjective
• Limited in what it
reveals
• Might tell us more
about an individual
moment than the
whole story
• Involved
• Looks into the
feelings, thoughts,
perspectives,
emotions
35. Hills Like White Elephants
The hills across the valley of the Ebro were long
and white. On this side there was no shade
and no trees and the station was between two
lines of rails in the sun. [...] The American and
the girl with him sat at a table in the shade,
outside the building. It was very hot and the
express from Barcelona would come in forty
minutes. It stopped at this junction for two
minutes and went to Madrid
36. The Tell-Tale Heart
TRUE! --nervous --very, very dreadfully nervous I
had been and am; but why will you say that I
am mad? The disease had sharpened my
senses --not destroyed --not dulled them.
Above all was the sense of hearing acute. I
heard all things in the heaven and in the
earth. I heard many things in hell. How, then,
am I mad? Hearken! and observe how
healthily --how calmly I can tell you the whole
story.
37. Wall of Fire Rising
“Listen to what happened today,” Guy said as he
barged through the rattling door of his tiny
shack.
38. It’s Six A.M. . . .
You are not the kind of guy who would be at a
place like this at this time in the morning.
45. Hills Like White Elephants
The hills across the valley of the Ebro were long
and white. On this side there was no shade
and no trees and the station was between two
lines of rails in the sun. [...] The American and
the girl with him sat at a table in the shade,
outside the building. It was very hot and the
express from Barcelona would come in forty
minutes. It stopped at this junction for two
minutes and went to Madrid
47. It’s Six A.M. . . .
You are not the kind of guy who would be at a
place like this at this time in the morning.
48. The Tell-Tale Heart
Upon the eighth night I was more than usually cautious in opening the door. A
watch's minute hand moves more quickly than did mine. Never before that
night had I felt the extent of my own powers --of my sagacity. I could scarcely
contain my feelings of triumph. To think that there I was, opening the door,
little by little, and he not even to dream of my secret deeds or thoughts. I fairly
chuckled at the idea; and perhaps he heard me; for he moved on the bed
suddenly, as if startled. Now you may think that I drew back --but no. His room
was as black as pitch with the thick darkness, (for the shutters were close
fastened, through fear of robbers,) and so I knew that he could not see the
opening of the door, and I kept pushing it on steadily, steadily.
50. Characters
-
How do we know them
What are we supposed to know about them?
How do we feel about them?
Do we identify with them?
51. Identification
• “You persuade a man only insofar as you
can talk his language by speech, gesture,
tonality, order, image, attitude, idea,
identifying your ways with his.”
52.
53.
54. Slim Shady
And there's a million of us just like me
who cuss like me;
who just don't give a f*** like me
who dress like me; walk, talk and act like
me
and just might be the next best thing but
not quite me!
58. The Tell-Tale Heart
Now this is the point. You fancy me mad. Madmen know nothing. But you should have
seen me. You should have seen how wisely I proceeded --with what caution --with
what foresight --with what dissimulation I went to work! I was never kinder to the
old man than during the whole week before I killed him. And every night, about
midnight, I turned the latch of his door and opened it --oh so gently! And then,
when I had made an opening sufficient for my head, I put in a dark lantern, all
closed, closed, that no light shone out, and then I thrust in my head. Oh, you
would have laughed to see how cunningly I thrust it in! I moved it slowly --very,
very slowly, so that I might not disturb the old man's sleep. It took me an hour to
place my whole head within the opening so far that I could see him as he lay upon
his bed. Ha! would a madman have been so wise as this, And then, when my head
was well in the room, I undid the lantern cautiously-oh, so cautiously --cautiously
(for the hinges creaked) --I undid it just so much that a single thin ray fell upon the
vulture eye. And this I did for seven long nights --every night just at midnight --but
I found the eye always closed; and so it was impossible to do the work; for it was
not the old man who vexed me, but his Evil Eye. And every morning, when the day
broke, I went boldly into the chamber, and spoke courageously to him, calling him
by name in a hearty tone, and inquiring how he has passed the night. So you see
he would have been a very profound old man, indeed, to suspect that every night,
just at twelve, I looked in upon him while he slept.
