Week 2

Renew thyself completely each day; do it again, and again, and forever again.

–Chinese Inscription Cited by Thoreau in Walden

  Welcome back and Good day to you all.  I hope all is well, a yes!   

      In writing we find some perspective to put our subject in, a stance or idea to frame it. The frame, which may be the topic sentence in a paragraph, or the thesis idea of the entire piece, tells a reader what to make of our subject. Say the subject–the raw material–is some event we can't shake from memory, whether from childhood, adolescence, or our adult life. Something happened and the memory of it has been shedding a certain light and force. This subject (event, phenomenon, fact, call it what you will) must be interpreted, its shape discovered, framed, its meaning revealed (in so far as we can grasp it) in the writing we do about it. It's not easy, but that is the challenge.  A composition of even a single paragraph must organize itself around an idea, stated or implied, which is the thesis or topic idea. Ideally, each sentence relates to the paragraph topic, alternating between the general idea and specific supporting details, and the finished effect is of a unified whole that fulfills a certain purpose. 

Read the following examples, whose topic ideas are in italic letters:

            Journeys are the midwives of thought.  Few places are more conducive to internal conversations than moving planes, ships, or trains.  There is an almost quaint correlation between what is before our eyes and the thoughts we are able to have in our heads:  large thoughts at times requiring large views, and new thoughts, new places.  Introspective reflections that might otherwise be liable to stall are helped along by the flow of landscape.  The mind may be reluctant to think properly when thinking is all it is supposed to do; the task can be as paralyzing as having to tell a joke or mimic an accent on demand.  Thinking improves when parts of the mind are given other tasks—charged with listening to music, for example, or following a line of trees. The music or the view distracts for a time that nervous, censorious, practical part of the mind which is inclined to shut down when it notices something difficult emerging in consciousness, and which runs scared of memories, longings and introspective or original ideas, preferring instead the administrative and the impersonal.

            —Alain de Botton, The Art of Travel

Everything is changing. . . . This is a prediction I can make with absolute certainty. As human beings, we are constantly in a state of change. Our bodies change every day. Our attitudes are constantly evolving. Something that we swore by five years ago is now almost impossible for us to imagine ourselves believing. The clothes we wore a few years back now look strange to us in old photographs. The things we take for granted as absolutes, impervious to change, are, in fact, constantly doing just that. Granite boulders become sand in time. Beaches erode and shape new shorelines. Our buildings become outdated and are replaced with modern structures that also will be torn down. Even those things which last thousands of years, such as the Pyramids and the Acropolis, also are changing. This simple insight is very important to grasp if you want to be a no-limit person, and are desirous of raising no-limit children. Everything you feel, think, see, and touch is constantly changing.
–Wayne Dyer, What Do You Really Want For Your Children?

Starting about one million years ago, the fossil record shows an accelerating growth of the human brain. It expanded at first at the rate of of one cubic inch of additional gray matter every hundred thousand years: then the growth rate doubled; it doubled again; and finally it doubled once more. Five hundred thousand years ago the rate of growth hit its peak. At that time, the brain was expanding at the phenomenal rate of ten cubic inches every hundred thousand years. No other organ in the history of life is known to have grown as fast. –Robert Jastrow, Until the Sun Dies

What my mother never told me was how fast time passes in adult life. I remember, when I was little, thinking I would live to be at least as old as my grandmother, who was dynamic even at ninety-two, the age at which she died. Now I see those ninety-two years hurtling by me. And my mother never told me how much fun sex could be, or what a discovery it is. Of course, I'm of an age when mothers really didn't tell you much about anything. My mother never told me the facts of life. –Joyce Susskind, "Surprises in a Woman's Life"

The crocuses and the larch turning green every year a week before the other and the pastures red with uneaten sheep's placenta's and the long summer days and the newmown hay and the wood pigeon in the morning and the cuckoo in the afternoon and the corncrake in the evening and the wasps in the jam and the smell of gorse and the look of the gorse and the apples falling and the children walking in the dead leaves and the larch turning brown a week before the others and the chestnuts falling and the howling winds and the sea breaking over the pier and the first fires and the hooves on the road and the consumptive postman whistling "The Roses Are Blooming in Picardy" and the standard oil lamp and of course the snow and to be sure the sleet and bless your heart the slush and every fourth year the February debacle and the endless April showers and the crocuses and then the whole bloody business starting all over again.  –Samuel Beckett, Wait


There is but one way to celebrate a plump ripe plum–polish it on your shirt, see your face in the silvery black shine, then open wide, lock your lips on the skin, sink your teeth into the sensuous center, suck in the flesh, slurp up the juices.  Ah!  The purple of it all.
–James Ciletti, Ode to a Ripe Plum

Note:  Some paragraphs, particularly ones descriptive or narrative (like the two printed just above), have no directly stated topic idea, but the idea is implied, the purpose of the paragraph clear, and the development shows unity and coherence.  The term coherence refers to the orderly, intelligible arrangement of sentences, phrases, and words.  Repetition of key words and use of transitions are two ways of creating coherence.  Transitions  are words and phrases that clarify the connections between thoughts, for example:  now, then, after all, finally, for example, in the meantime, indeed, thus, likewise, similarly, on the one hand, on the other hand,naturally, of course, in conclusion, etc.  

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Today's writing focuses on description. At times description stands alone, but it always enhances and particularizes all kinds of writing.  Think images–of people, things, places–sometimes very narrowly focused and detailed, sometimes sketched in, impressionistic and evocative of some overarching feeling, impression, atmosphere, or mood.  Fine description begins with close observation of your subject, physically or mentally.  Some of us have vivid recall of certain subjects, and some prefer to study first-hand, in the here and now, the world as it offers itself to us.

The places we remember from the past, those we see right before us, or those we see in looking into the future– the real and imagined landscapes of our journeys– these are our subject today. What was it like to be there? What did we see? hear? touch? smell? taste? feel? Were we in a mansion, on a mountain, walking a boulevard or navigating narrow city streets? Were we in Morocco or Miami? Was our neighborhood a place where kids played in the street and dogs barked excitedly, where sometimes the flood waters rose to knee height and frogs and snakes made wild companions? Did folks sit on the porch, or did they live behind privacy gates and drive fancy cars? Can you describe your home of homes? And how does it compare to other homes, other places? What makes the place distinct? What gives it character? What kinds of life, what kinds of people and things and what jobs does one find there? If you consulted a map, what would the map reveal or tell?

Writing about place may take the form of a travel journal or memoir; or it may be a guide to those seeking to discover some part of the world from an armchair at home or in advance of making an actual visit. Often people write about the landscapes or cityscapes that they have come to love through long connection. We may become seemingly indifferent to where we live, no longer noticing the particulars, the everyday features and patterns. Sometimes we have to go away to start seeing the world around us. We are nonetheless surrounded by objects; the elemental trees, clouds, sky, rocks, rivers, and fields; and the constructed world of houses, classrooms, malls, towns, and roadways with all that lies beside.  We also remember certain people, certain things, whose presence before us or in memory is closely associated with the events of our life. 

The following excerpt is from Mark Twain's Autobiography:  

    As I have said, I spent some time of every year at the farm until I was twelve or thirteen years old.  The life which I led there with my cousins was full of charm, and so is the memory of it yet.  I can call back the solemn twilight and mystery of the deep woods, the earthy smells , the faint odors of the wild flowers, the sheen of rain-washed foliage, the rattling clatter of drops when the wind shook the trees, the far-off hammering of woodpeckers and the muffled drumming of wood pheasants in the remoteness of the forest, the snapshot glimpses of disturbed wild creatures scurrying through the grass–I can call it all back and make it as real as it ever was, and as blessed.  I can call back the prairie, and its loneliness and peace, and a vast hawk hanging motionless in the sky, with his wings spread wide and the blue of the vault showing through the fringe of their end feathers.  I can see the woods in their autumn dress, the oaks purple, the hickories washed with gold, the maples and the sumachs luminous with crimson fires, and I can hear the rustle make by the fallen leaves as we plowed through them. . . .




And here is Alain de Botton writing about Gustave Flaubert's fascination with camels:  "One of the finest things is the camel," wrote Flaubert from Cairo.  "I never tire of watching this strange beast that lurches like a donkey and sways its neck like a swan.  It s cry is something that I wear myself out trying to imitate–I hope to bring it back with me, but it's hard to reproduce:   a rattle with a kind of tremulous gargling as an accompaniment."  Writing to a family friend a few months after the he left Egypt, he listed the things that had most impressed him in that country:  the pyramids, the temple at Karnak, the Valley of the Kings, some dancers in Cairo, a painter named Hassan el Bilbeis.  "But my real passion is the camel (please don't think I'm joking):  nothing has a more singular grace thatn this melancholic animal.  You have to see a group of them in the desert when they advance single file across the horizon, like soldiers; their necks stick out like those of ostriches, and they keep going, going. . . ."
    Why did Flaubert so admire the camel?  Because he identified with its stoicism and ungainliness.  He was touched by its sad expression and its combination of awkwardness and fatalistic resilience.
–from The Art of Travel

Writing Assignment (#2): Writing descriptively means bringing to a reader's mind the particular aspects that define the essence of your subject––be it a place or setting, a person, or a thing. We stand on whatever ground, sit on whatever chair, stroll whatever paths or sidewalks, swim the river or climb that tree, eat those berries, smell those blossoms, marvel at the moon, swelter in the heat and the dust of late summer, or shiver in the icy blasts that make street corners formidable. Images are all around.  Faces, too, and the figures of every created thing.  In 350 words or more, conjure a precise and compelling portrait of a place (person and/or thing) you know well. You may adopt a stationary or fixed observer perspective, or you may opt for that of the moving observer. Underline your thesis idea if it is stated, or type it out at the bottom of the page if it is implicit (clearly suggested but nowhere actually stated).

Title the essay. Double space the lines and tab indent for each paragraph.

Topic Suggestions:

Describe a place where you found or find refuge, a sense of peace and well-being.

Describe a place you find stimulating in some specific way or ways.

Describe the neighborhood you grew up in and the influence it had on you.

Describe a scene that is one you have come to know familiarly and the effect it has on you.

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SENTENCE TYPES

Sentence Type 1: The simple sentence has one subject and one predicate, the base of which is always a verb or verb phrase. And in English, the subject usually comes up front, followed by the verb and other predicate elements such as direct and indirect objects. This subject-verb combo is called a clause, an independent clause, because it expresses a grammatically complete, stand-alone thought.  Examples follow here:

Jesus wept. 

Style has meaning.

Choices resonate.

Nuts! (that is nuts, this is nuts, he is nuts, etc., where "that", "this", "he" are the subjects and "is" the verb, with "nuts" describing the situation or person, as an adjective or subject complement).

What is the subject in each of the three preceding sentences?  Jesus.  Style.  Choices.  And the verbs?  Wept and has and resonate, and some form of the "be" verb":  is, was, are, were . . .

And in the following?

The house is surrounded by razor wire.

He and I fight too often. We cannot be good for one another. 

After spring sunset, mist rises from the river, spreading like a flood.

From a bough, floating down river, insect song.  (Sentence fragment here . . . no verb).

They slept. 

The girl raised the flag. 

Note:   inverted syntax order: Subject follows the verb instead of preceding it.  Lovable he isn't. This I just don't understand. Tall grow the pines on the hills.

Normal order: A fly is in my soup. With an expletive (which delays the subject) it looks like this: There is a fly in my soup.

Sentence type 2: The compound sentence has at least two independent subject and verb combinations or clauses, and no dependent clauses. Each independent clause is joined by means of some conjunction or coordinating punctuation:

Autumn is a sad season, but I love it anyway.
Name the baby Huey, or I'll cut you out of my will.
The class was young, eager, and intelligent, and the teacher delighted in their presence.
The sky grew black, and the wind died; an ominous quiet hung over the whole city.
My mind is made up; however, I do want to discuss the decision with you.

Any of the seven short coordinating conjunctions can be used before the comma to join independent clauses:  for, and, nor, but, or, yet, so:  they can be remembered as FANBOYS.

*A semi-colon (;) must be used before adverbial conjunctions joining independent clauses:  however, indeed, therefore, thus, in fact, moreover, in addition, consequently, still, etcetera.

Sentence Type 3: The complex sentence is composed of one independent clause and at least one dependent clause.  

My man left me though it was I who begged him to go.


Those who live in glass houses should not cast stones.


Many people believe that God does not exist.

Sentence Type 4:  The compound-complex sentence has at least two independent clauses and one dependent clause.

As I waited for the bus, the sun beat down all around me, and I shivered in my thoughts.

Because she said nothing, we assumed that she wanted nothing, but her mother knew better.

She and her sister Amina are dancers, and they work at parties around town when they can. 


While John shopped for groceries, two armed men forced their way into his home; fortunately, his wife and children were away.

Examples of subordinating conjunctions––those used in from of dependent clauses–– include the following:  because, that, which, who, when, while, where, wherever, though, as though, although, since, as, if, as if, unless, et al .

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Grammar Work: Verb conjugations, tense forms and usage. Review the material on verb forms and use at the following URLs: http://owl.english.purdue.edu/owl/resource/601/1/ http://owl.english.purdue.edu/exercises/2/22, http://owl.english.purdue.edu/owl/resource/539/07/, and http://owl.english.purdue.edu/owl/resource/599/1/.