Short Story
Wednesday, February 22, 2012
Hyde, Jekyll, and the history of Unicorns
Dr, Jekyll and Mr.Hyde focuses around the duality of man. Although this theme is not explicitly revealed in the early chapters. The letter from Mr.Jekyll leaves no doubt that this is indeed the driving force throughout the story. The story explains that Jekyll believes that every person is composed of an angel and a demon.Based on this theory, he creates a potion to remove the demonic, beastly side of himself. However, his potion, which
he hoped would separate and purify each element, succeeds only in
bringing the dark side into being—Hyde emerges, but he has no angelic
counterpart. Once unleashed, Hyde slowly takes over, until Jekyll
ceases to exist. This leads the reader to wonder if Stevenson's theory is that man is evil, and that only human culturing prevents the anarchy and chaos of the demon from being released.
Tuesday, February 21, 2012
Jekyll and Hyde
The description of houses is used
by Stevenson as a metaphor for the human psyche. An example of this is like
Jekyll's scientific laboratory, symbolizing the rational and logical side of
his mind. The strong locks and doors symbolize the huge gaps between his psyches,
one side Jekyll, the other one Hyde.
When Poole and Utterson break down the barriers between his scientific
side and everything else- the fear, the panic, all the raw emotions the
employees’ feel- they discover that it is Hyde, not Jekyll who has taken
complete control of his mind. Another observation that can be observed is that
by breaking down the privacy of Jekyll’s laboratory, they force him to commit
suicide, as the two opposing sides cannot truly co-exist.
Thursday, February 9, 2012
Jekyll and Hyde CHAPTERS 7-9
A recurring theme that is seen
throughout the chapters is the fog. The fog symbolizes the unclear, the
inscrutable, the unknown, and is used to lend a sense of dark, sinister,
mystery to the chapters. The fog is mentioned when Mr. Utterson finds himself
analyzing Dr. Jekyll's domicile, finding a "foggy cupola". The fog
here represents the mystery of the house, the connections to Mr. Hyde's
dwelling, and the vague feeling of the chapter. Another instance where this fog
can be seen was the fog that descended upon the city. This can easily be
interpreted as part of the gloom of Sir Danvers Carew’s brutal murder as well
as the unknown whereabouts of Mr. Hyde. However, it is mentioned that the fog “slept
on the wing of the drowned city”, implying that the fog is moving starting to
clear away from the center of the city and the mention of its sleeping refers
to the powerlessness of the characters, unable to move and explore. The clouds
are said to “smother” the light of the lamps. Observations can be drawn from
this as lamps give out light, commonly used to symbolize clarity. As the clouds
smother the lamps, they ensure that the characters are left helpless, no clues
to follow and no personal instincts.Chapter 9 ends in a cryptic feel. "But Mr. Enfield only nodded his head very seriously, and walked on once more in silence"
Thursday, February 2, 2012
Chapters 1-3 Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde
The usage of houses in Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde is a reliable
way to search deep into the thoughts and mental patterns of the characters. An
example of this is Mr. Hyde’s house, having two windows symbolizes the duality
of man, the plain, and foreboding exterior is exemplified by the shadier and
darker motives lurking within Mr. Hyde’s mind. His residence’s door also lacks
and knocker or doorknob, symbolizing the inaccessibility of his mindset.
By simply examining the houses of the characters in the
story, the correlation becomes even clearer as Dr, Jekyll’s home is inviting
and comfortable, the good side of things. Another interesting comparison can be
made as Mr. Hyde’s home is close to many nice houses while his is a wreck; this
shows the sharp contrast between Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, one a congenial man,
the other a despicable, hated man.
Wednesday, January 18, 2012
English 10 short story #1
Claustrophobia
The alarms buzzes. Six thirty. 1960. Monday morning. The man groans, smacking
his head as he rises from his slumber. The blow reverberates, mimicking the
throbbing pulse that was tearing his mind asunder. Rummaging through his
garments, he pulls on an old, worn-out, grey sweat shirt. He pours a large cup
of steaming coffee and begins the day.
The man returns to the grey,
infinitesimally cramped cubicles that mimic the bricks in the wall that encloses
the building. No space for privacy, no space to breathe. Lunch consists of
bread and milk. Times up, return to work. Endless filing and analyzing legal
documents. Eight thirty, he goes home, alcohol assists in relieving the
repetition of his everyday life. The liquid runs like quicksilver, tearing down
his throat, launching him back into his sleep.
Tuesday morning, he goes about his
usual schedule, waking up, pouring coffee, going to work. He notices a co-worker
staring in his direction, he turns toward the co-worker and the stares are
diverted. After work, he notices the same man walking behind him. Beat. Beat.
Beat. His heart thunders. There was no doubt in his mind, the man was following
him. He felt the knife he keeps tucked into his sleeve but dismisses the
incident as superstition and drowns his worries
Wednesday morning, he sees the man
on the bus to work with him, heart racing, he continues his monotonous cycle of
everyday life. After work, the man follows him another day. He ducks into a
shop as he watches the man pass by. The question “why” thunders as he struggles
with his predicament.
Thursday morning, the rain beats a
pattern on the sidewalk. The man notices his co-worker stalking him around with
obvious malevolent intent. He resolves to end it. Ducking into an alley way, he
waits for his stalker to pass. He leaps out; slashing his coworker’s limbs and
torso. Panic. Everyone runs for their lives as the man ran, cackling as he
ravages his co-worker’s chest.
Project MKULTRA. 2:00 AM, 1953. The
patient shudders and wakes from his dream. The warden looks up in shock, the
man hadn’t moved for 10 years now. A grim smile slowly cracks the man’s chalky
white face as scarlet blood trickles from his mouth.
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