Wilson 1
Accelerated English 1
Summer Reading Requirements
Close reading charts will be used in Accelerated English as a vehicle for processing all of the literature
that you read, preparing you for active discussion and analytical writing. The notes you keep will be invaluable
sources of information and inspiration. Please purchase a flash drive for use throughout the school year on
which you will save all electronic material as you will be completing reading entries for each work we read. I
would like you to begin your reading this summer with the assigned works. Work associated with these
readings will be collected within the first week of school.
Please read the following:
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"Caged Bird" poem by Maya Angelou
"The World Is Too Much with Us" poem by William Wordsworth
Sonnet 130 by William Shakespeare
"Mirror" poem by Sylvia Plath
"Spring is like a perhaps hand" poem by e.e. cummings
"The Secret Life of Walter Mitty" short story by James Thurber
"The Necklace" short story by Guy de Maupassant
"The Pedestrian" short story by Ray Bradbury
*Copies of these works are located on the PWHS Moodie site at Mrs. Wilson's Accelerated English page or on
the PWHS website at www.pwh.district70.org. On the website, access the resources menu then click on
Summer Courses (Advanced) . Next, select Mrs. Wilson (Ace. English 1). Hardcopies are available upon
request.
Please note that your work must be your own ideas, your own processing. If you consult any other
sources for ideas. they must be acceptable for academic study, and you must give full, accurate and complete
MLA documentation, both parenthetically and on a works cited page that should be the final page of the log
entry. Also. many students say that they "work with other students." You may never use another person's ideas
without giving proper credit- whether the source be a friend or a literary critic, you must cite words, sentences,
ideas, that are not your own. With that in mind, you will best serve yourself by completing your work without the
help of others. Although the close reading chart is a place for you to process what you read, it is also a place to
practice analyzing literature. Your audience is your instructor and the purpose is literature study so use your
academic "voice" in your log: do not use "you", slang or contractions and avoid using "I" (this is your log;
therefore, the 'Tis understood). Do use the literary present tense to discuss the novel. Do make literary terms
an integral part of your literature discussion vocabulary. The more you use literary terms, the more successful
you will be with literary analysis. If you are unfamiliar with or need definitions for terms, i r~mmend using the
following resource: www.virtualsalt.com and access "A Handbook of Rhetorical Devices" and "A Glossary of
Literary Terms".
Follow these guidelines for summer reading work:
1. Reading Assignment (REQUIREDJ
For Pmse Works (shorl stories}:
Wilson2
One of the goals this year is to help you gain confidence In your ability to respond to and write about
literature. To accomplish this we will focus on examining why authors make the choices they do and the effects
they create with their choices. Examining why and how an author creates specific effects with his or her
choices is the process of literary analysis and this leads us to a deeper understanding of literature.
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Please type your responses. Do not plan to use class time to put your log together.
Complete your response to each question in paragraph format. Your responses should include a
reason, detail, or fact (RDF}, and each RDF developed with an example. In turn, these examples must
be supported with quotations from the text. Cite all quotations using MLA format, i.e. (Orwell1 03}.
Begin each of the responses with a clearly marked heading, i.e. Author.
A suggested length for each response is noted as a guideline. Develop your answer until you are
satisfied with the result.
A well-developed response paragraph should include two or three RDFs, plus evidence and analysis.
Provide responses for each prose (short story) work for EACH question.
Questions
1. Author & Title: What are the author's dates (birth and death) and nationality (where born or
naturalized)? (Use research sites that are acceptable for scholarly research. Don't use Wikipedia: it is
not a reliable site. Cite your source for author biographical information at the end of your log entry.)
What relationship does the author's biographical information have to the work? Respond by making one
specific connection. and explain how this background information affects how the reader understands
the work. Then. discuss how the title relates to the content of the work. (1-2 paragraphs)
*For assistance with MLA citations. use the following site:
http://owl.english.purdue.edu/owl/resource/557/0 1/.
2. Point of View: What pornt of view(s) does the author choose? Who is/are the narrators? Qiscuss two
specific effects that point of view has on the novel. (1 paragraph)
3. Response to Theme: Discuss how this work develops one aspect of the theme of cower. For example.
examine the impact of either having or not having oower on a particular character. or examine how a
character's or government's abuse of Power impacts other characters. (1 paragraph)
4. Connections: Compare and contrast how the author treats one aspect in the work with how the author
treats the same aspect in another part of the novel. For example. discuss the author's use of symbols.
structure of the noveL creation of the setting. development of the character. etc. Choose any aspect
that interests you . Develop the comparison/contrast with descriptions of specific examples. (1·2
paragraphs)
5. Analysis: Choose one excerot (i.e. a short parag raph- at least 5 lines) from the novel that delighted.
impressed. puzzles or intrigued you and copy or tvpe it. Skip lines. then write a one to two paragraph
analysis of this excerpt. explaining both the literal meaning and the "true" or "between the lines"
meaning the author intended. You will develop voyr analysis with the conclusions or inferences you
make about the character and situation featured in the excerot. To support your analysis. discuss how
the author uses various literary devices such as detail. repetition. imagerv. diction. etc. to create the
meaning. Remember that several oossible interpretations may exist. so it is usually a good idea to
qualify an idea by using phrases such as "this suggests". "this coyld represent". "perhaps" and so on.
Integrate quoted phrases and cite the page number. Conclude your paragraph by explaining why the
excerot you chose is agual!y significant to the novel as a whole.
For poetry pieces:
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Personal Poetry Glossary: Complete the glossary by entering definitions for each term, including one
example for each term from any of the required poems, and creating your own example of each of the
terms. *Each of the five required poems must be represented in your examples.
2. Litecacv Analvsjs Essav CREQUIBEDJ
Prompt: Write an essay in MLA format that analyzes one of the required works. Analyze the text to examine
how the writer uses an array of literary devices and/or stylistic techniques to convey a theme to the reader.
Your essay must be a multi-paragraph response to literature that:
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Presents effective introductory and concluding paragraphs.
Analyzes literature and extends beyond a summary or literal analysis.
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Advances a clear thesis.
Provides evidence from the text using embedded quotes.
Analyzes the aesthetic effects of an author's use of stylistic or rhetorical devices.
Uses an organizing structure appropriate to purpose, audience, and context.
Uses a variety of sentence structures.
Uses transitions between and within paragraphs.
Exemplary
I The composition:
contains a focused
and perceptive thesis
• skillfully embeds a
variety of textual
evidence that yields
detailed support
• analyzes and uses
exceptionally insightful
commentary
Organizational Structure The composition
• employs an
effective and coherent
organizational structure
that enhances the
reader's understanding
• contains a
progression of ideas
that is well controlled
and deliberately
advances the thesis.
Proficient
The composition
• contains a focused
thesis
• skillfully embeds
appropriate details and
quotes
• analyzes and uses
sophisticated
commentary that relates
to the thesis.
The composition
• employs an
organizational structure
appropriate to the
purpose and audience.
• includes a
progression of ideas
that is coherent and
connects to the thesis.
Use of Language
The composition
• uses a purposeful
vocabulary and variety
of sentence types to
effectively convey the
writer's purpose
• Is general sound
grammatically
Scoring Criteria
Development of Ideas
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Format
The composition
• uses artful
vocabulary and a
commanding variety of
sentence variety that
enhance the
effectiveness of the
writer's purpose.
• is technically sound
grammatically.
The composition
• adheres to the
reQuirements of M LA
The composition
• mostly adheres to
the reQuirements of
Emerging
The composition
• contains a limited
thesis
• contains few, if any.
supporting quotes
• contains superficial
analysis or states the
obvious.
The composition
• employs an
orgamzational structure
that is incomplete or
inappropriate to the
purpose and audience
• includes a
progression of ideas
that is inconsistent or
weak and interferes with
the relationship s
among ideas.
The composition
• uses vocabulary
and sentence structures
that are awkward and
Inappropriate for the
purpose
contains
grammatical errors that
interfere with the
reader's understanding_.
The composition
• doesn't follow a
recognizable formatting
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Wllson 4
I formatting
I MLA formatting
I style
**Approach the work with an open mind. Let it inspire you and stretch your imagination.
If you have a question, you may email me at [email protected].
I will check my email about once per week over the summer. If you do not get a response right away, please
be patient.
Caged Bird
By Maya Angelou
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A free bird leaps
on the back of the wind
and floats downstream
till the rurrent end~
and dips his wing
in t he orange sun r.oys
and dares to claim the sky.
But a bird thah talks
down his narrow cae,e
e<m seldom see through
his bars of rage
his wings are clipped and
his feet are tied
so he opens his throat to sing.
The caged bird ~ing~
with a fea rfuI trill
of things unknown
but longed tor still
and his tune Is heard
on the distant hill
for the caged bird
sings of f reedom.
The free bird thinks of another breeze
and the trade winds soft through t he sighing t rees
and the fat worms waiting on a dawn bright lawn
and he names the sky hi~ owrr.
But a caged bird stands 011 the grave of dreams
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his shadow shouts on a nightmare screa111
his wings are clipped and his feet are tied
so he opens his throat to sing.
The caged bird sings
with a fearful trill
of t hings unknown
but longed for still
and his tune is heard
on the distant hill
for t he caged bird
sings of freedom.
Maya Angelou. "Caged Bird" from Shaker. Why Don't You Sing? Copyright 0 1983 by Maya Angelou. Used by pennission of Random House. Inc.
Source: The Complete Collected Poe~M ofMaya Angelou 1Random House Inc.. 19941
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The World Is Too Much With Us
BY Wll.LIAM WOROSVlORT£·1
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The world is too much with us: Jut~ and Stllm.
Getting nnd 5J1<!ndin~ \W lay wast~ ,,ur poll'en.:- ·
Little we s....: in Natun! that i~ ours:
We ha\c given our h.!art~ away. u sonlid huon:
This S.:a thol hllre!' her hosom tu the moon:
l"lk! \\inds th:tt ,,;11 he howling at ullln•un;.
1\nd ~ up-l!llth~~d now lik~ sk'<.'(ling tlow~rs:
For this. t<•r c' ~'r~1hinl!- w..· arc nut ;~f tunc:
It lllO\ cs u~ nnt. (rtl!at Uml! r d r.athc'r he
.\ Pagan suo:kl~d in a cr..'<.'tl uutworn:
Sl>might I. standing un this pleasant lea.
Ha' e glimp:«.'l' thai \muld mak~ Ill<' J.-s., tnrlom:
Haw sight ;~f l'ml~tt< fi,ing If\lin tl~<.• N!U:
Or hear old Triton blow his wreathed horn.
Sonnet CXXX: My Mistress' E~·es are Nothing like the Sun
BYWll.LIAM SHAKESPEARE
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My mistress' eyes are nothing like the sun:
Coral is far IDOfe red than her lips' red;
Ifsnow be white, why then her breasts are dun;
If hairs be wires, black wires grow on her head.
I have seen roses damasked, red and white.
But no such roses see I in her cheeks;
And in some perfumes is there more delight
Than in the breath that from my mistress reeks.
I love to hear her speak, yet well I know
That music hath a far more pleasing sound:
I grant I never saw a goddess go;
My mistress, when she walks, treads on the ground.
And yet, by heaven, I think my love as rare
As any she belied with false COm[Jare.
Source: The Norton Anthology of English Literature: Volume One Seventh Edition (2000 l
Mirror
by Sylvia Plath
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I am silver and exact. I have no preconceptiorn.
Whatever 1see, I swallow immediately.
Just as it Is, unmisted by love or dislike
1am notcrue~ onlytruthful The eye of a little god, four-cornered.
Most of the time I meditate on the opposite wall.
It Is pink, with speckiP.s. I have looked at It -~0 long
I think it is a part of my heart. But it fllcke~.
Faces and darkness separate us over a net over.
Now I am a lake. Awoman bends over me.
Searching my reaches for what she really is.
Then she turns to those nars, the candles or the moon.
1see her back, and reflect it faithfully
She rewards me with te~rs and an agitation of hands.
I am important to her. She comes and goes.
Each morning it Is her face that replaces the darkness.
In me she has drowned a young girl, and In me an old woman
Rises toward her day after day, like a terrible fish.
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Spring is like a perhaps hand
by E. E Cummings
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Spring is lil:e c. perho.pe h ano
(which cor.:e.s c ~.re:'ull:·
out of Howhe re. >arrang!r.g
~ ~1 indm·1, i nto \·:hich peopl e l ool: (while
people st!lr e
e;rranging and char,ging placir.g
carefully there a strange
thing and a known thing here)and
changing €·'Ter ;rr.hi ng carefully
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is like a perhaps
in a window
(carefully to
and fro moving New and
Old things, while
people stare carefully
moving a perhaps
fraction of f l ower here placing
an inch of air t here)and
~p1ing
~~nd
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without breakin g anything.
"The Secret Life of Walter Mitty" (1939)
by James Thurber
"Wf'RE going throu{lhl" The Commander's voice was like thin Ice breakln!< He wore his full-dress uniform. with the he~vUy hr~lded white cap pulle<l down
rakishly over onP. cold gray eye. •we can't make it, sir. It's ~polling for ~ hltrricane. if you as~ me." " I'm not &~ing you, Ueutenanl Bell>·" Sdid t he Comm;~nde r. "Throw
on thE> power lightsI Rev her up tc> ssoor We're going through!'' The poundinl( of the cylinder\ lncrea~ed : ta-pocketapuck£>ta- poc~et~-pocke~-pocket<~ . The
Commander starec.l at thP. ice fornrint! on the (Jilot wirldow. He walkeri ovel' Md twisted a row of mmpikdted dlills. ·~witr.h on No. !.1 <lUllliidry!" he shouted . "Switch
on No. a auxlii~ry!" repedted Lieutenant Berg. "Full strength in No.3 turret!" shouted the Commander. "Full strength in No.3 turret!" The crew, bending to their
various tdsks in the huge, hurtling elght-engined Navy hydroplane, Joo~ed at each other and grinned. "The Old Man' II get us through," they said to one another. "The
Old Man ain't afraid of hell!" ...
"Not so fast! You're driving too fastl" said Mrs. Mitty. "What are you driving so fast for?"
''Hmm?" said Walter Mltty. He looked at his wife, in the seat be~lde him, with shoc~ed astonishment. She seemed grossly unfamiliar, like a strange woman
who had yelled at him in a crowd . "You were up to fifty-fivE<." she said. "You know I don't like to go more than forty. You were up to flfty-flve.' Walter Mitty drove on
toward Waterbury in silence, the roaring of the SN202 through the worst storm in twenty years of Navy flying fading in the remote, intin1ate airways of his mind.
"You're ten$Bd up again, • said Mrs. Mltty. "It's one of yout days. ! wish you'd let Dr. Renshaw look you over.•
Walter Mitty stopped the car in front of the building where his wife went to have her hair done. "Remember to get those overshoes while I'm having my
hair done," she said . "I don't need overshoes," said Mitty. She put her mirror back Into her bag. "We've been all through that," she said, getting out of the car. "You're
not a young mM any longer." He raced the engine a little. "Why don't you wear your gloves? Have you lost your gloves?" Walter Mitty reached in~ poclo.et and
brought out the gloves. He put them oo, but after she held turned and gone Into the building and he had driven on to~ red light, he took them off again. "Piclt it up.
brother!" snapped a cop as the lf&ht changed, ~nd Mitty hastily pulled on hil: gloves and lurched ahead. He drove around the streets aimlessly for a time, and then he
drove past the hospital oo his way to the parking lot.
•.. "it's the millionaire banker. Wellington McMill~n," said the pretty nurse. "Yes?" said Walter Mitty, removing his gloves .~lowly. "Who has the case?" "Dr.
Renshaw Clnd Dr. Benbow, but there are two specli!lists here. Dr. Remington from New York i!nd Dr. Prltchard-Mitford from London. He flew over." A door opened
down C~long, cool corridor and Or. Renshaw came out. He looked distraught <~nd haggard. "Hello, Mitty,• he said. ''We're having the devil's own time with McMillan,
the millionaire banker and close personal friend of Roosevelt. Obstreosis of the ductal tract. Tertiary. Wish you'd take <~look at him.• "Glad to.• said Mitty.
In t he OpP.rating room there were whispered introductions: "Dr. Remington, Dr. Mltty. Or. Pritchard-Mitford, Dr. Mitty. • ''I've reac.l your book on
streptothricosis," said Pritchard- Mitford, shaking hands. "A brilliant performance, sir." "Thank you," said Waiter Mitty. "Didn't know you were in the States, Mitty,"
grumbled Remington. "Coals to Newcastle, bringing Mitford and me up here for a tertiary." "You are very kind," said Mitty. A huge, complicated machine, connected
to the operating table, with many tubes and wires, began at thi~ moment to go pocketa-pocketa-pocketa. "The new anestheti~er Is giving away!" shouted an Intern.
"There is no one in the East who MOWS how to fiX !tl" "Quiet, manI" said Mltty, in a low, cool voloe. He sprang to the machine, which was now going
Wilson 7
pocketa-pocketa-queep-pocketa-queep. He began fingering delicately a row of glistening dials. "Give me a fountain penl" he snapped. Someone handed him a
fountain pen. He pulled a faulty piston ol.lt of the miiChtne and inserted the pen in its place. "That wNI hold for ten minl.ltes," he said. "Get on with the operation. A
nurse hurried CNef and whispered to Renshaw, and Mltty saw the man tum pale. "Coreopsis has set in,• said Renshaw nervously. "If vou would take over, Mltty?"
Mittv looked at him and at the craven figure of Benbow, who drank, and at the grave, uncertain faces ofthe two great specialists. "If vou wish, • he said. They slipped
a white gown on him, he adjusted a mask and drew on thin gloves; nurses handed him shining ...
"Back it up, Mac! I Look out for that Buick!" Walter Mittv jammed on the brakes. "Wrong lane, Mac," said the parking-lot attendant, looking at Mittv
closely. "Gee. Yeh, • muttered Mitty. He began cautiously to back out of the lane marked "Exit Onty.• "Leave her sit there,• said the attendant. "I'll put her away.•
Mittv got out of the car. "Hey, better leave the key.• "Oh; said Mltty, handing the man the Ignition key. The attendant vaulted into the car, backed it up with insolent
skill, and put It where it belonged.
They're so damn cocky, thought Walter Mltty, walking along Main Street; ttrey think they know everything. Once he had tried to take his chains off, outside
New Milford, and he had got them wound around the axles. A man had had to come out in a wrecking car and unwind them, a young, grinning garageman. Since then
Mrs. Mltty always made him drive to a garage to have the chains taken off. The next time, he thought, I'll wear my right arm in a sling; they won't grin at me then. I'll
have my right am1 in a sling and they'll see I couldn't possibly take the chains off myself. He kicked at the slush on the sidewalk. "OVershoe~." he said to himself, and
he began looking for a shoe store.
When he came out Into the street again, with the overshoes In a box under his arno, WaIter Mitty began to wonder what the other thing was his wife hild
told him to get. She had told him, twice betore they set out from their house for Waterbury. In a way he hated these weekly trlps to town--he was always getting
something wrong. Kleenex, he thought, Squibb's, razor b!~des? No. Tooth paste, toothbrush, bicarbonate, carborundum, initiative and referendum? He gave It up.
But she would remember it. "Where's the what's·!~- name?" she would ask. "Don't tell me you forgot the what's-Its name." A newsboy went by shouting something
about the Waterbury trial .
. . . "Perhaps this will rtofrestJ your memory." The District Attorney suddenly thrust a heavy automatic at the quiet figure on the witness stand. "Have you
ever seen thi~ before?" Walter Mitty took the gun and ex.lmined It expertly. "Thi$IS noy Webley-Vickers 50.80,• ho said calmly. An exc.lted buzz ran around the
r.ourtroom. The Judge rapped for t)rcler. "YQ\o are d cr'.lLk ~ h ot with any sort of tirearms, t he neve?" S<Jid the District Attorney, insinuatine;ly "Objection!" shoutl!ri
Mitty's attomey. "We have shown that the defendant c;tJuki not havl' fired the shot. We have shown that he wore his right arm in a stln& on thE- night of the
fourteenth of July." Walter Mltty raised his h<tnd briP.fly illld the bickering attorneys were ~tilled. "With any known make of gun,• h!! sa lei P.venly, "I coulc1 have killed
Gregory Fltzhu rst atthree hundred feet with my left hand." Pandemonlum broke loose In the courtroom. A woman's scream rose above the bedlam and suddenly a
lovely, dark-haired girl was in WaltP.J Mirtv's ~nus. The m~trict AttCJrney ~truck at he1 savagely. Without rising from his chair, Mittv let the man have it on the point of
the chin. "You miserable curl" .. .
"Puppy biscuit," saicl Walter Mill\'. HE' !Otoppt>d walking and the: buildings of Waterbury rose up out of the misty courtroom and surrounded him again. A
womdn wllo wa~ passing laughecl. "He saici'Puppy biscuit." s/Je s<~id to he1 companion. "That t11an S<tld 'Puppy biscuit' to himself." Walter Milly hurried on . He went
Into an A. & P., notthe first one he came to but a sn•~lle1 one f~rther llf' the street. "I wanbome hisc<Jit for small, young <iog~," he said to the ciE'rh. "Any .~~edaf
hrand, sir?" The gre~test pistol shot In the world thought a moment. ''It says 'Puppies Bark for It' on the box," said Walter Mitty.
His wife would be throt•llh at the hairdre-.~!!IJS lu fifteen m inut~' Mitty saw in looking at his watdl, unless they had trouble drying it; sometimes they had
trouble dJying it. She didn't like to get to the hotel first, she would want him to be there waiting for her as usual. He found a big leather chair in t he lohby, facing a
window, and he put the overshoes and the puppy bistuli on the floo1 beside it. He picked up an old copy of liberty and sank down into the chair. "Can Germany
Conqui!J thf.' World Through the Air?" Walter Mitty looked ~t the pictures of bombing planes and of mine<i streets .
. . . "The cannonadlnp: has got the wind up In young Raleigh, sir,• said the sergeant. Captain Mittv iookect up at him through tousled hair. "Get him to berl."
he said wearily, "with the others. I'll fly alone.• "But you CCJn't, sir." said the sergeant anxiously. "It takes two men to handle that bomber and the Archtes are
pounding hell out of the air. Von RichtnJiln's cirrus Is hetween here and Scluller." "Somebody's got to get that ammunition dump,• said Mltty. "I'm going over. Spot of
brandy?" He poured a drink for the sergeant ilnd one tor himself. Wa1 thundered anti whined around the dugol.lt and battered at the door. There was a rending of
wood and splinters flew through the room. "A bit of a near thing," s~ld Captilin Mitty CCJrelessty. 'The box barrage is closing in," sai<i the sergeant. "We only live once,
Sergeant." said Mitty, with his faint, fleeting smile. "Or do we?" He pourect another brandy ;md tossed It off. "I never see a man could hold his br<tndy like you, sir."
said the sergeant. "Begging your pardon, sir. • Captain Mlttv stood up and ~trapped on tris huge Webley-Vickers autonlatic. "It's forty kilometers through hell, sir, • said
the sergeant. Mltty finished one last brancly. "After all." hE' s~ id softly, "what isn't?" The pounding of the cannon Increased; there was the rat-tat-tatting of machine
guns, and from somewhere came the menacing pocketa-pocketa-pocketa of the new flamethrowers. Walter Mittv walked to the door of the dugout humming
"Aupres de Ma Blonde.• He turned and waved to the sergeant. "Cheeriol" he said .•..
Something struck his shoulder. "I've been looking all over this hotel for you," said Mrs. Mltty. "Why do you have to hide In this old chair] How did you
expi!Ct me to find you?" "Things close in," said Walter Mitty vaguely. ''What?'' Mrs. Mlttv said. "Dicl you get the what's-its-nilrne? The puppy biscuit? What's in that
box?" "OVershoes," said Mltty. "Couldn't you have put them on In the store?" 'I was thinking,• said Walter Mitty. "Does it ever occur to you that I am sometimes
thinking?" She looked at him. "I'm gOing to take your temperature when I get you home,• she said. They went outthrough the revolving doors that m~de a faintly
derisive whlstHng sound when you pushed them. It was two blocks to the pMking lot. At the drugstore on the corner she said, "Wait here for me. I forgot something. 1
won't be a minute." She was more than a minute. Walter Mltty lighted il cigarette. It began to rain, rain with sleet In it. He stood up against the wall of the drugstore,
smoking.... He put his shoulders back anti hl~ heeiHogether. "To hell with the handkerchief," said Walter Mittv scornfully. He took one last drag on his cigarette and
snapped It away. Then, with that faint, fleetim! smiJf! playing about his lips. he faced the firing squad; erect and motionless, proud and disdainful, Walter Mittv the
Undefeated, inscrl.ltable to the last.
Wilson 8
The Necklace
By Guy de Maupass.lnt
She was one ofthose pretty and charming girls born, as though fate had blundered over her, into a family of artisans. She had no marriage portion, no
expectations, no means of getting known, understood, loved, and wedded by a man of wealth and distinction; and she let herself be ma rried off to a little clerk In the
Ministry of Education.
Her tastes were simple because she had never been able to afford any other, but she was as unhappy as t hough she had married beneat h her; for women
have no caste or class, their beauty, grace, and chaml serving them for birth or family, their natural delicacy, t heir Instinctive elegance, their nimbleness of wit, are
tht!lr only mark of rank, and put the slum girl on a level with the highest lady in the land.
She suffered endlessly, feeling herself bom for every delicacy and luxury. She suffered from the poorness of her house, from Its mean walls, worn chairs,
and ugly curtains. All these things, of which other women of her class would not even have been aware, tormented and insulted her. The sight of the little Breton girl
who came to do the work In her little house aroused heart-brolten regrets and hopeless dreams In her mind. She Imagined silent antechambers, heavy with Oriental
tapestries, lit by torches in lofty bronze sockets, with two tall footmen In knee-breeches sleeping in large arm-chairs, overcome by the heavy warmth ofthe st ove. She
imagined vast saloons hung with antique silks, exquisite pieces of furniture supporting priceless ornaments, and small, channing, perfumed rooms, created j ust fen
little parties of intimate friends, men who were famous and sought after, whose homage roused every other woman's envious longings.
When she sat down for dinner at the round table covered with a three-days-old cloth, opposite her husband, who took t he cover off the soup-tureen,
exclaiming der,ghtedly: "Aha I Scotch broth I What could be better?" she imagined delicate meals, gleaming silver, tapestries peopling the walls with folk of a past age
and strange birds In faery forests; she Imagined delicate food served in marvellous dishes, murmured gallantries, liStened to with an inscrutable smile as one trifled
with the rosy flesh of trout or wings of asparagus chicken.
She had no clothes, no jewels, nothing. And these were the only things she loved; she felt that she was made for them. She had longed so eagerly to
charm, to be desired, to be wildly attractive and sought after.
She had a rich friend, an old school friend whorn she refused to visit, because she suffered so keenly when she returned home. She would weep whole
days, with grief, regret, despair, and misery.
One evening her husb~nd came home with an exultant air, hn!ding a laree envelope In his hand
"Here·~ something for you," he said.
Swiftly she tore the paper and dri!\OJ ou t~ print~ card on which were thest! worn~ :
' The Minister of Education anet Madarne Rilmponneau requ~the pleasure of the comp;~ny of Monsieur and Mad<~ llU! lni~el at the M iroi~'tly otr the
evening of Monday, January the 18th.''
Instead of being delighted, as her husband hoped, she flung the invitation petulantly across the table, murmuring:
"What do you want me to do with this?"
"Why, darling. I thought you'd be ple~ sE!fl. Vou never go out, dnd thr.. Is a great orr.aslon. 1had t remendous trouuit- to get it. Ewry mre wants one; its very
seiP.Ct. and very few go to the derks. You'll see ~II tl>e really hig people there •·
She looked ~t him out offuriotl\ eve~. ~nd said lmpiltlently:
"And what do you suppo~e I am to wear ~t such an aff~ lr ~"
He had not thought about It; he st~nunereci:
"Why, the nress you go to thE> theatre ln. It lrloks very nice, to me . "
He stopped, stupefied and utterly ;~t a loss when he SdW that his wife was beginninl! to r.ry. Two large tears ran slnwly down from the corners of her eyes
towands the corners of her mouth.
"What's the matter with you? What's the matter with you'•'" he faltered.
But with a violent effort she overcame her grief and replied in~ 1:c1lm voice, wiping her wet cheeks:
"Nothing. Only I haven't a dress <lnd ~o I can't go to this p;trty. c:iive your invitation to some friend of yours whose wife will be turned out betterth ~n l
shilll."
He w~s heart-broken.
'look here, Mathilde," he persisted. "Wh<~t would be thl! cost ofa suitable dress, which you could use on other o u:<~slons as well. something very simple?"
She thought for several seconds, ll!ckonlngup prle@!; and aisn wondering for how large a sum she could ~sk without bringing upon herself an immediate
refusal arxt an exclamation of horror from the careful-minded clerk.
At last ~he replied with some l~itatitm:
"I don't know exactly, but I think I could do it on four hundred fr<~nr.s .•
He grew slightly pc>le, for this was exactly the amount he hild been saving for a gun, Intending t o get a little ~hooting next summer on the plain of Nanterrf.
with some friends who went lark-shooting there on Sundays.
Nevertheless he said:
*Very well. I'll give you four hundred francs. Buttry and get a really nice dress with thP. money."
The day of the party drew near, and Madame Loisel seemed sad, uneasy arK! anxious. Her dress was ready, however. One evening her husband sa l~ to her:
"What's the matter with you? You've been very odd for the last three days."
"I'm utterly miserable at not having any jewels. not a single stone, to wear," she replied. "I shall look absolutely dowdy. I would almost rather not go to the
party.•
"Wear flowers." he said. "They're very smart at this time of the year. For ten francs you could get two or t hree gorgeous roses."
She was not convinced.
"No ... there's nothing so humUlating as looking poor In the middle ot a lot of rich women."
"How stupid you are!" exclaimed her husbann. "Go and see Madame Forestler and ask her to lend you some jewels. You know her quite well enough for
th~t."
She uttered a cry of delight.
"That's true. I never thought of it.''
Next day she went to see her friend and told her her trouble.
Madame Forestler went to her dressing-table, took up a large box, brought It to Madame Loisel, opened it, and said:
"Choose, my dear.•
Wilson9
First she saw some bracelets, then " pearl neclclace, then a Venetian cross In gold and gems, of exquisite workmanship. She tried the effect of the jewels
before the mirror, hesitating. unable to make up her mind to leave them, to give them up. She kept on asking:
"Haven't you anything else?"
"Yes. Look for yourself. I don't know what you would llke best."
Suddenly she discovered, in a black satin case, a superb diamond neclclace; her heart began to beat covetously. Her hands trembled as she llfted it. She
fastened it round her neck, upon her high dress, and remained in ecstasy at sight of herself.
Then, with hesitation, she asked In anguish:
"Could you lend me this, just this alone?"
"Yes, of course."
She flung herself on her friend's breast. embraced her frenziedly, and went away with her treasure.
The day of the party arrived. Madame Loisel was a success. She was the prettiest woman present, elegant, graceful, smiling, and quite above herself with
happiness. All the men stared at her. inquired her name, and asked to be Introduced to her. All the Under-Secretaries of State were eager t o walt z with her. The
Minister noticed her.
She danced madly, ecstatically, drunk with pleasure, with no thought for anything. In the triumph of her beauty, In t he pride of her success, in a cloud of
happiness made up of this universal homage and admiration, of the deslnes she had aroused, of the completeness of a victory so dear to her feminine heart.
She left about four o'clock in the morning. Since midnight her husband had been dozing In a deserted little room, In company with three other men whose
wives were having a good time.
He threw over her shoulders the garments he had brought for them to go home in, modest everyday clot hes, whose poverty clashed wit h t he beauty of
the balldress.
She was conscious of this and was anxious to hurry away so that she should not be noticed by the other women putting oo their costly fur$.
Loisel restrained her.
"Wait a llttle. You'll catch cold In the open. I'm going to fetch a cab."
But she did not listen to him and ra pldly descended the staircase. When they were out In the street t hey could not find a cah; t hey began to look for ont.,
shouting at the drivers whoo1 they saw passing in the distance.
They walked down towards the Seine, desperate and shivering. At last they found 011the quay one of t hose old nlghtprowling carriages which ane only t o
be seen In Paris after dark, as though t hey were ashamed of their shabbiness in the daylight.
It brought them to theh· door in the Rue des Martyrs, and sadly they walked up to their own apartment. It was the end, for her. A.~ for him, he was thinking
that he rnust be at the office at ten.
She took off the garmr.nts In which ~he il ~d wrapp~d her shoulders, so a~ to see herself in all her glory before the mirror. But suddenly she uttered a cry.
The neckldce was no longer round her neck!
"What's the matter with V0\1?" asket1 her ilu~band, already half undressed.
She turned towards him In the utmost distress.
"I .. . I . .. I've no longer got Madame Forestier's necklace•••• "
He started with astonishment.
"What! . . Impossible!"
n1ey searched in the folds other dress, 111 the folds of t he coat. in t he I)Oder~. everywhere Th~o-v 1:ould not fiud it.
"Are you sure that you still had it on when you c;ome ~way from thl' ball?" he .=~skeci.
"'tes, I touched it in tf1e h~il ~t t11e Ministry."
"But if you had lost it In the 'trf!et. we should h~ve heard tt fall."
"Ves. Probably we should Oicl you r<~lo.e tl lP. numiH!I ot the cdb?"
"No. You didn't notke it, did you?"
"No."
They stared dt one anothel, dumbfounded. At last loi ~ el put 011 his clothe~ agdin.
"I'll go over all the ground we walked, • he s~ld, "and ~ee If I can't fincllt."
And he went out. She remained iu her evening clothe~. laclcing strength to get i11to bed, huddled oo ~ chair. without volit ion or power ot thought.
Her husband returned about seven. He h.td found nothing.
He went to the police station, to the newspapers, to offer a reward, to the cab companies, everywhere that~ ray ot hope in~pellec! him.
She wa lted all day long, In the same ~t~te of bewilderment at this fearful catastrophe.
Loi~el came horne at night, his face lined and pale; he had discovered nothing.
"You must write to yoorfrlentl," he said, "and tell her that you've broken the cl~sp of her necklace anti are getting it mended. TI1at will give us t ime t o look
about us.•
She wrote at his dictation.
By the end of a week they had lost all hope.
Loisel, who had aged five years, declared:
"We must see about replacing the diamonds.•
Next day they took the box which had held the neclclace and went to the jewellers whose name was Inside. He consulted his book.~ .
"It was not I who sold this necklace, Madame; I must have merely supplied the clasp."
Then they went from jeweller to jeweller, searching for another necklace like the first, consulting t heir memories, bot h ill with remorse and anguish of
mind.
In a shop at the Palais-Royal they found a string of diamonds which seemed to them exactly like t he one they were looking for. It was worth forty thousand
francs. They were allowed to have It for thirty-six thousand.
They begged the jeweller not to sell it for three d<ly~. And they arranged matters on the understa nding that it would be taken back forthilty-fourthousand
francs, If the first one were found before the end of February.
loiselvossessed eighteen thousand francs left to him by his father. He Intended to borrow the rest.
He did borrow it, getting a thousand from one man, fiVe hundred from another, five louis here, three louis there. He gave notes of hand, entered Into
ruinous agreements, did business with usurers and the whole tribe of moneylenders. He mortgaged the whole remaining years of his existence, risked his signature
without even knowing If he could honour it, and, appalled at the agonising face of the future, at the blad( misery about to fall upon him, at the prospect of every
possible physical privation and moral torture, he went to get the new necklace and put down upon tl1e jeweller's counter thirty-six t housa nd francs.
When Madame Loisel took back the necklace to Madame Forestier, the latter said to her In~ chilly voice:
Wilson 10
"You ought to have brought it back sooner; ! might have needed it."
She did not, as her friend had feared, open the case. If she had noticed the substitution, what would she have thought? What would she have sa id? Would
she not have taken her for a thief?
Madame Loisel came t o know the ghast ly llfe of abject poverty. From the very first she played her part heroically. This fearful debt must be paid off. She
would pay it. The servant was dismissed. They changed their flat; they took a garrl!t under t he roof.
She came to know the heavy work of the house, the hateful duties of the kitchen. She washed the plat es, wearing out her pink nails on t he coarse pottery
and t he bottoms of pans. She washed the dirty linen, the shirts and dishcloths, and hung them out to dry on a string; every morning she took t he dustbin down into
the street and earned up the water, stopping on each landing to get her breath. And, clad like a poor woman, she went to the fruiterer, to the grocer, t o the butcher,
a basket on her ~rm, haggling. insulted, f tghting for every wretched halfpenny of her money.
Every month notes had to be paid off, others renewed, t ime gained.
Her husband worked in the evenings at putting straight a merchant's accounts, and often at night he did copying at twopence-half penny a page.
And th ts life lasted ten years.
At the end of ten years everything was paid off, everything, the usurer's charges and the accumulat ion of superimposed interest.
Madame Loisel looked old now. She had become like all t he other strong, hard, coarse women of poor households. Her hair was badly done, her skirts
were awry, her hands were red. She spoke In a shrill voice, and the water slopped all over the floor when she scrubbed it. But somet imes, when her husband was at
the office, she sat down by the window and thought of that evening long ago, of the ball at which she had been so beautiful and so much admired.
What would have happened Itshe had never lost those jewels. Who knows? Who knows? How strange life is, how fickle! How little Is needed to ruin or t o
sa vel
One Sunday, as she had gone for a wcrlk along the Champs-Eiysees to freshen her~ elf after the labours of the week, she caught sight suddenly of a woman
who was taking a child out for a walk. It was Madame Forestier, still young, still beautiful, still attractive.
Madame Loisel was conscious of some emotion. Should she speak to her? Yes, certainly. And now th~t she had paid, she would tell her all. Why not?
She went up to her. "Good morning, Jeanne."
The other did not recognise her, and was surprised at being thus familiarly addressed by a poor woman. "But .. .
Madame •.." she stammered. "I don't know . .. you must 1M! making a mistake."
"No ... 1am Mathilde Loisel."
Herfriend uttered a cry. "Ohl •.. my poor Mathilde, how you have changed I .. ."
"Yes, I've hacl some hard tirnes slnr.o1 I ~aw you ldst; and many sorrows ... and <11! on your account."
"On my account! .. . How was that?'"
"You remember the diamond neddace you lent me for the ball at the Mini!ltryT'
"Yes. Well?"
"Well, 1lost it."
"How (Otrld you? Why, you brought it h~ck."
"I brought you another one ju<t li ~e it. Aucl for the IJst ten year~ we h;;ve been payin!! tor it vo,, redliSI' it wasn't e<lW for us; we h<;CJ nn money. . Well,
it's paid for at l.lst, ;md I'm glad Indeed."
Mad~mF. Forestier had halted. "You 5<tYyou Mtr(lh t ,, diamond necklaCP to replaa. ntlnP.?"
"Ye~ . You hadn't nnt!cetl it? Th~y were very IIlllCh dlike." And sht' smiled in 1•roud ~nd Innocent happiness.
Mar!arne Forestler. deeply rnnved. tool• her twn hand~.' Oh. my poor M~thildel But mine wa~ Imitation. It was worth atthe very most f ive hundred francs!
II
Wilson 11
The Pedestrian
By Ray Bradbury
Tn ~ntcr out intn that silence that was the city nt eight
o'clock of a misty e\·cning in Non:mhcr. to put your t~>t utxm
that huck ling con~o.-rete walk. to st~o.-p uwr grJ.ssy seams and
make your wa~. hands in pocl..t.'ts. through the silences. that
was what Mr. Leonard Mead most dearly loveJ to do. He
would stand upon the comer of an intersection and peer down
long moonlit avenues of sidewalk in four directions, deciding
which way to go, but it really made no difference; he was
alone in this world of A.D. 2053, or as good as alone, and with
a final decision made, a path selected, he would stride off,
sending patterns of frosty air before him like the smoke of a
cigar.
Sometimes he would walk for hours and miles and
return only at midnight to his house. And on his way he would
see the cottages and homes with their dark windows, and it
was not unequal to walking through a graveyard where only
the faintest glimmers of firefly light appeared in flickers
behind the windows. Sudden gray phantoms seemed to
manifest upon inner room walls where a curtain was still
undrawn against the night, or there were whisperings and
murmurs where a window in a tomblike building was still
open.
Mr. Leonard Mead would pause, cock his head,
listen, look, and march on, his feet making no noise on the
lumpy walk. For long ago he had wisely changed to sneakers
when strolling at night, because the dogs in intermittent
squads would parallel his journey with barkings ifhe wore
hard heels, and lights might click on and faces appear and an
entire street be startled by the passing of a lone figure. himself.
in the early November evening.
On this particular evening he began his journey in a
westerly direction, toward the hidden sea. There was a good
crystal frost in the air; it cut the nose and made the lungs blaze
like a Christmas tree inside; you could feel the cold light going
on and off, all the branches filled with invisible snow. He
listened to the faint push of his soft shoes through autumn
leaves with satisfaction, and whistled a cold quiet whistle
between his teeth, occasionally picking up a leaf as he passed.
examining its skeletal pattern in the infrequent lamplights as
he went on, smelling its rusty smell.
"Hello, in there," he whispered to every house on
every side as he moved. "What's up tonight on Channel 4,
Channel 7, Channel 9? Where are the cowboys rushing. and
do I see the United States
Cavalry over the next hill to the rescue?"
The street was silent and long and empty, with only
his shadow moving like the shadow of a hawk in midcountry.
If he closed his eyes and stood very still, frozen, he could
imagine himself upon the center of a plain, a wintry, windless
Arizona desert with no house in a thousand miles. and only
dry river beds, the streets, for company.
"What is it now?" he asked the houses, noticing his
wrist watch. "Eight-thirty P.M.? Time for a dozen assorted
murders? A quiz? A revue? A comedian falling off the stage?"
Was that a murmur oflaughter from within a moon-
white house'! He hesitated. hut went on when nothing mor~:
happened. He stumhlcd <m:r a particular!~ uncwn s~ctiun of
siJc\\alk. The cement was \·anishing umlc::r llom:rs and gmss.
In ten years of walking by night or Ja~. tor thousands of
miles. he had ncn!r met anothcr ~rson walking. not once in
all that time.
He came to a cloverleaf intersection which stood
silent where two main highways crossed the town. During the
day it was a thunderous surge of cars, the gas stations open, a
great insect rustling and a ceaseless jockeying for position as
the scarabbeetles, a faint incense puttering from their exhausts.
skimmed homeward to the far directions. But now these
highways, too, were like streams in a dry season. all stone and
bed and moon radiance.
He turned back on a side street, circling around
toward his home. He was within a block of his destination
when the lone car turned a comer quite suddenly and flashed a
fierce white cone of light upon him. He stood entranced, not
unlike a night moth. stunned by the illumination. and then
drawn toward it.
A metallic voice called to him:
"Stand still. Stay where you are! Don't move!"
He halted.
''Put up your hands!"
"But-" he said.
"Your hands up! Or we'll Shoot!"
The police, of course, but what a rare, incredible
thing; in a city of three million, there was only one police car
left, wasn't that correct? Ever since a year ago, 2052, the
election year, the force had been cut down from three cars to
one. Crime was ebbing; there was no need now for the police,
save for this one lone car wandering and wandering the empty
streets.
"Your name?" said the police car in a metallic
whisper. He couldn't see the men in it for the bright light in his
eyes.
"Leonard Mead," he said.
"Speak up!"
"Leonard Mead!"
"Business or profession?"
"I guess you'd call me a writer."
"No profession," said the police car, as if talking to
itself. The light held him fixed. like a museum specimen.
needle thrust through chest.
"You might say that, " said Mr. Mead. He hadn't
written in years. Magazines and books didn't sell any more.
Everything went on in the tomblike houses at night now, he
thought, continuing his fancy. The tombs, ill-lit by television
light, where the people sat like the dead, the gray or
multicolored lights touching their faces. but never really
touching them.
"No profession," said the phonograph voice. hissing.
"What are you doing out?"
"Walking," said Leonard Mead.
"Walking!"
"Just walking," he said simply, but his face felt cold.
"Walking. just walking. walking?"
"Yes. sir."
Wilson 12
"Walking where? For what?"
"Walking for air. Walking to ~el!. "
"Y uur address!"
"Elc\ en South Suint James Strel!t."
"And thcre is air in your house. ) ou have an air
conditioner, Mr. Mead?"
"Yes."
"And you have a viewing screen in your house to !>CC
with?"
"Nll,"
"No'!" llterc was a crackling l)Uict that in itsdfwas
un accusation.
"Are you married. Mr. Mead?"
"No."
"Not married," said the police voice behind the fiery
beam, the moon was high and clear among the stars and the
houses were gray and silent.
"Nobody wanted me," said Leonard Mead with <I
smile.
"Don't speak unless you're spoken to!"
Leonard Mead waited in the cold night.
"Just walking. Mr. Mead?"
"Yes."
"But you haven't explained for what purpose."
"I explained; for air, and to see. and just to walk."
"Have you done this often?"
"Every night for years."
The police car sat in the center of the street with its
radio throat faintly humming.
"Well, Mr. Mead," it said.
"Is that all?" he asked politely.
"Yes," said the voice. "Here." There was a sigh, ••
pop. The back door of the police car sprang wide. "Get in.''
"Wait a minute. I haven't done anything!"
"Get in.''
"I protest!"
"Mr. Mead.''
He walked like a man suddenly drunk. As he passed
the lront " ·indow of the car he: looked in. As he had expected.
thl!rc was no one in th..: front seat. no one in the car at all.
"Cktin."
He put his hand tu the duor aiXI peered intu the hack
seal which was a little cell. u littk black jail \\ith burs. It
smelled ot'riYI!t~.--d steel. It smcll~.>d of harsh untis~-ptic: it
smdlcJ tO\I dean und hard and metallk. The~ was nothing
son there.
"Now if~ou haJ u wit~ to ghe ~0u un alibi." said the
inm \ oicl!. "But-"
"Where are you taking me?"
The car hesitated, or rather gave a faint whirring
click, as if information, somewhere, was dropping card by
punch-slotted card under electric eyes. "To the Psychiatric
Center for Research on Regressive Tendencies."
He got in. The door shut with a soft thud. The police
car rolled through the night avenues. flashing its dim lights
ahead.
They passed one house on one street a moment later.
one house in an entire city of houses that were dark, but this
one particular house had all ofits electric lights brightly lit,
every window a loud yellow illumination. square and wann in
the cool darkness.
"That's my house," said Leonard Mead.
No one answered him.
The car moved down the empty river-bed streets and
off away, leaving the empty streets with the empty side-walks.
and no sound and no motion all the rest of the chill November
night.
ACTIVITY
3.4
Personal Poetry Glossary
Literary
Device
Definition
Example from the Text
and Explanation of
Function and Use
Original Example for
My Wrlter•s Toolbox
...
Refrain
Tone
Imagery
Diction
...;
~.,
e
!l
Hyperbole
..c
·~
~
...;
c
..
0
m
Cl
~
0
u
....
....
0
Allusion
....
Q
Connotation
..
206 SpringBoard® English Textual PowerTM level l!
Extended
Metaphor
Symbol
Onomatopoeia
Alliteration
· Rhyme
Theme
Anophora
Assonance
Consonance
Unit 3 • Exploring Poetic Voices
207
~ WORD
CONNECTIONS
Select a term from the preceding chart that is of particular interest to
ycu. c.:md create o graphic representation that captures t ht ~s.sence of
t he term.
Hyperbole contains the
Greek prefix hyper-, which
means "excessive," or
"more than normal." Thl!;
prefix appears In su<:h
wcrds as hyperactive;
hypersensitive,
hypertension, Nr<l
hypertext.
I
.
Llrem~Devlce __________________
!I
I
I
1-. . - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - · - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
208 SpringBoard® English Textual PowerrM Level4