"The Story of An Hour"

Kate Chopin (1894)

Knowing that Mrs. Mallard was afflicted with a heart trouble, great care was taken to break to her as
gently as possible the news of her husband's death.

It was her sister Josephine who told her, in broken sentences; veiled hints that revealed in half
concealing. Her husband's friend Richards was there, too, near her. It was he who had been in the
newspaper office when intelligence of the railroad disaster was received, with Brently Mallard's name
leading the list of "killed." He had only taken the time to assure himself of its truth by a second telegram,
and had hastened to forestall any less careful, less tender friend in bearing the sad message.

She did not hear the story as many women have heard the same, with a paralyzed inability to accept its
significance. She wept at once, with sudden, wild abandonment, in her sister's arms. When the storm of
grief had spent itself she went away to her room alone. She would have no one follow her.

There stood, facing the open window, a comfortable, roomy armchair. Into this she sank, pressed down
by a physical exhaustion that haunted her body and seemed to reach into her soul.

She could see in the open square before her house the tops of trees that were all aquiver with the new
spring life. The delicious breath of rain was in the air. In the street below a peddler was crying his wares.
The notes of a distant song which some one was singing reached her faintly, and countless sparrows
were twittering in the eaves.

There were patches of blue sky showing here and there through the clouds that had met and piled one
above the other in the west facing her window.

She sat with her head thrown back upon the cushion of the chair, quite motionless, except when a sob
came up into her throat and shook her, as a child who has cried itself to sleep continues to sob in its
dreams.

She was young, with a fair, calm face, whose lines bespoke repression and even a certain strength. But
now there was a dull stare in her eyes, whose gaze was fixed away off yonder on one of those patches of
blue sky. It was not a glance of reflection, but rather indicated a suspension of intelligent thought.

There was something coming to her and she was waiting for it, fearfully. What was it? She did not know;
it was too subtle and elusive to name. But she felt it, creeping out of the sky, reaching toward her
through the sounds, the scents, the color that filled the air.

Now her bosom rose and fell tumultuously. She was beginning to recognize this thing that was
approaching to possess her, and she was striving to beat it back with her will--as powerless as her two
white slender hands would have been. When she abandoned herself a little whispered word escaped
her slightly parted lips. She said it over and over under hte breath: "free, free, free!" The vacant stare
and the look of terror that had followed it went from her eyes. They stayed keen and bright. Her pulses
beat fast, and the coursing blood warmed and relaxed every inch of her body.

She did not stop to ask if it were or were not a monstrous joy that held her. A clear and exalted
perception enabled her to dismiss the suggestion as trivial. She knew that she would weep again when
she saw the kind, tender hands folded in death; the face that had never looked save with love upon her,
fixed and gray and dead. But she saw beyond that bitter moment a long procession of years to come
that would belong to her absolutely. And she opened and spread her arms out to them in welcome.

There would be no one to live for during those coming years; she would live for herself. There would be
no powerful will bending hers in that blind persistence with which men and women believe they have a
right to impose a private will upon a fellow-creature. A kind intention or a cruel intention made the act
seem no less a crime as she looked upon it in that brief moment of illumination.

And yet she had loved him--sometimes. Often she had not. What did it matter! What could love, the
unsolved mystery, count for in the face of this possession of self-assertion which she suddenly
recognized as the strongest impulse of her being!

"Free! Body and soul free!" she kept whispering.

Josephine was kneeling before the closed door with her lips to the keyhold, imploring for admission.
"Louise, open the door! I beg; open the door--you will make yourself ill. What are you doing, Louise? For
heaven's sake open the door."

"Go away. I am not making myself ill." No; she was drinking in a very elixir of life through that open
window.

Her fancy was running riot along those days ahead of her. Spring days, and summer days, and all sorts of
days that would be her own. She breathed a quick prayer that life might be long. It was only yesterday
she had thought with a shudder that life might be long.

She arose at length and opened the door to her sister's importunities. There was a feverish triumph in
her eyes, and she carried herself unwittingly like a goddess of Victory. She clasped her sister's waist, and
together they descended the stairs. Richards stood waiting for them at the bottom.

Some one was opening the front door with a latchkey. It was Brently Mallard who entered, a little travel-
stained, composedly carrying his grip-sack and umbrella. He had been far from the scene of the
accident, and did not even know there had been one. He stood amazed at Josephine's piercing cry; at
Richards' quick motion to screen him from the view of his wife.

When the doctors came they said she had died of heart disease--of the joy that kills.
Character Analysis:

Louise Mallard- From the opening sentence alone, we learn a lot about Louise Mallard. Chopin
writes, “Knowing that Mrs. Mallard was afflicted with a heart trouble, great care was taken to
break to her as gently as possible the news of her husband’s death.” Louise’s personality is
described as different from other women. While many women would be struck with the news in
disbelief, Louise cries with “wild abandonment”—which shows how powerful her emotions are.
Additionally, while other women would be content to mourn for longer, Louise quickly transitions
from grief to joy about her husband’s passing.

Josephine- Josephine is Louise’s sister. We never hear of Josephine’s last name or whether she
is married or not. We do know that she has come with Richards, a friend of Brently’s, to break
the news of his death to her sister. Josephine is the key supporting character for Louise, helping
her mourn, though she never knows that Louise found new freedom from her husband’s
supposed death. But from Josephine’s actions and interactions with Louise, readers can
accurately surmise that she cares for her sister (even if she’s unaware of how miserable Louise
finds her life).

Richards- Richards is another supporting character, though he is described as Brently’s friend,

not Louise’s friend. It is Richards who finds out about Brently Mallard’s supposed death while at
the newspaper office—he sees Brently’s name “leading the list of ‘killed.’” Richards’ main role
in “The Story of an Hour” is to kick off the story’s plot. It’s also important to note is that
Richards is aware of Louise’s heart condition, meaning that he knows Louise Mallard well
enough to know of her health and how she is likely to bear grief. He appears again in the story
at the very end, when he tries (and fails) to shield Brently from his wife’s view to prevent her
heart from reacting badly.

Brently Mallard- Mr. Brently Mallard is the husband of the main character, Louise. We get few
details about him, though readers do know he’s been on a train that has met with a serious
accident. For the majority of the story, readers believe Brently Mallard is dead—though the end
of “The Story of an Hour” reveals that he’s been alive all along. In fact, Brently doesn’t even
know of the railroad tragedy when he arrives home “travel-stained.”

Conflict Analysis:

The story of an hour has a four conflict which are: Conflict with the self, Conflict with others,
Conflict with the environment and Conflict with the supernatural.
The opening conflict in the story is when Louise Mallard heard the bad news about his husband
is dead because of the train accident. Louise Mallard has a heart condition, once she heard the
news she start weeping and saying “Free and Freedom”. It’s like she feel the joy. And because
of the sudden emotions from mourn it change into sudden joy that lead to her death.

Theme Analysis:

The Theme of the story; A story of an hour has three (3) main theme which are:

Women in 19th-Century Society- the “possession of self-assertion.”

Freedom and Independence- focus on the idea of freedom in “The Story of an Hour,” on
selfhood, self-fulfillment, the meaning of love. Symbolizes the theme of freedom in a variety of
ways, some of which even provide contrasts to Louise's newfound independence, such as
Louise's self-confinement and initial powerlessness.

Love and Marriage- “Love has been, for Louise and others, the primary purpose of life, but
through her new perspective, Louise comprehends that ‘love, the unsolved mystery’ counts for
very little. . . . Love is not a substitute for selfhood; indeed, selfhood is love’s precondition.”

Week 5-6

“Taximan’s Story”
 by Catherine Lim

:Very good, Madam. Sure, will take you there in plenty good time for your meeting, Madam.
This way better, less traffic, less car jams. Half hour should make it, Madam, so not to worry.

:What is it you say, Madam?

:Yes, yes, haha, been taximan for twenty years now, Madam. Long time ago, Singapore not like
this–so crowded so busy. Last time more peaceful, not so much taximen, or so much cars and
buses.

:Yes, Madam, can make a living. So so. What to do. Must work hard if wants to success in
Singapore. People like us, no education, no capital for business, we must sweat to earn money
for wife and children.

:Yes. Madam, quite big family–eight children, six sons, two daughters. Big family! Ha! ha! :No
good, Madam. In those days, where got Family Planning in Singapore? People born many, many
children, every year, one childs. Is no good at all. Today is much better. Two children, three
children, enough, stop. Our goverment say stop.

:Lucky for me, all my children big now. Four of my sons working–one a businessman, two clerks,
one a teacher in Primary school, one in National Service, one still schooling, in Secondary Two.
My eldest daughter, she is twenty plus, stay at home, help the mother. No, not married yet–
very shy, and her health not so good, but a good, obedient girl. My other girl–Oh, Madam! Very
hard for father when daughter is no good and go against her parents. Very sad, like punishment
from God Today, young people not like us when we are young. We obey. Our parents say don’t
do this, we never do. Otherwise, the cane. My father cane me, I was big enough to be married,
and still, got caning. My father he was very strict, and that is good thing for parents to be strict.
If not, young boys and girls become very useless. Do not want to study, but run away, and go to
night clubs and take drugs and make love. You agree with me. Madam? Today, young people
they are very trouble to their parents. Madam, you see this young people over there, outside
the coffee-house? See what I mean, Madam? They are only school boys and schoolgirls, but
they act like big shots, spending money, smoking, wearing latest fashion, and making love. Ah
Madam, I know, I know! As taximan, I know them and their habits. Madam, you are a teacher,
you say? You know or not that young schoolgirls, fifteen, sixteen years old, they go to school in
the morning in their uniforms and then after school, they don’t go home, they have clothes in
their schoolbag, and they go to public lavatory or hotel and change into these clothes, and they
put make-up on their face. Their parents never know. They tell their Mum got school meeting,
got sports and games, this, that, but they really come out and play the fool.
:Ah, Madam, I see you surprise, but I know, I know all their tricks. I take them about in my taxi.
They usual is wait in bowling alley or coffee house or hotel, and they walk up, and friend, friend,
the European and American tourists, and this is how they make fun and also extra money.
Madam, you believe or not when I tell you how much money they got? I say! Last night,
Madam, this young girl, very pretty and made-up, and wear sexy dress, she told me take her to
Orchid Mansions–this place famous, Madam, fourth floor flat–and she open her purse to pay
me, and I say! all American notes–ten dollar notes all, and she pull one out and say keep
change! As she has no time already.

:Madam, I tell you this, every month, I got more money from these young girls and their
American and European boyfriends in my taxi, more than I get from other people who bargain
and say don’t want go by meter and wait even for ten cents change.

:Phui! Some of them really make me mad. But these young girls and their boyfriends don’t
bargain, they just pay, pay, and they make love in taxi so much they don’t know if you go round
and round and charge them by meter!

:I tell you, Madam, some of them don’t care how much they spend on taxi. It is like this: after
1p.m. taxi fare double, and I prefer working this time, because naturally, much more money. I
go and wait outside Elroy Hotel or Tung Court or Orchid Mansions, and such enough, Madam,
will have plenty business. Last Saturday, Madam, no joking, on one day alone I make nearly one
hundred and fifty dollars! Some of it for services. Some of tourists don’t know where, so I tell
them and take them there, and that’s extra money.

:Ah Madam, if I tell you all, no end to the story. But I will tell you this, Madam. If you have
young daughter and she say Mummy I got meeting today in school and will not come home,
you must not say, Yes, yes, but you must go and ask her where and why and who, and you find
out. Today young people not to trust, like young people in many years ago. Oh, Madam, I tell
you because I myself have a daughter–oh, Madam, a daughter I love very much, and she is so
good and study hard. And I see her report cards and her teacher write ’Good work’ and
‘Excellent’ so on, so on. Oh, Madam, she my favourite child, and I ask her what she want to be
after left school, and she says go to University. None of my other children could go to
University, but this one, she is very smart and intelligent–no boasting, Madam–her teachers
write ‘Good’ and ‘Excellent’, and so on, so on, in her report cards. She study at home, and help
the mother, but sometimes a little lazy, and she say teacher want her to go back to school to do
extra work, extra coaching, in her weak subject, which is maths, Madam. So I let her stay back
in school and day after day she come home in evening, then she do her studies and go to sleep.
Then one day, oh Madam, it make me so angry even now–one day, I in my taxi driving, driving
along and hey! I see a girl looking like my Lay Choo, with other girls and some Europeans
outside a coffee-house but I think, it cannot be Lay Choo, how can, Lay Choo is in school, and
this girl is all dressed up and make-up, and very bold in her behaviour, and this is not like my
daughter at all. Then they go inside the coffee-house, and my heart is very, very–how you
describe it, Madam, My heart is very ‘susah hati’ and I say to myself, I will watch that Lay Choo
and see her monkey tricks. The very next day she is there again I stop my taxi, Madam, and I am
so angry. I rush up to this wicked daughter and I catch her by the shoulders and neck, and slap
her and she scream, but I don’t care. Then I drag her to my taxi and drive all the way home, and
at home I thrash the stupid food and I beat her and slap her till like hell. My wife and some
neighbours they pull me away, and I think if they not pull me away, I sure to kill that girl. I lock
her up in her room for three days, and I ashamed to tell her teacher, so I just tell the teacher
that Lay Choo is sick, so please to excuse her. Oh, Madam, how you feel in my place? Make
herself so cheap, when her father drive taxi all day to save money for her University.

:What is it, Madam? Yes, yes, everything okay now, thank you. She cannot leave the house
except to go to school, and I tell her mother always check, check in everything she do, and her
friends–what sort of people they are…

:What, Madam? Oh, so sorry, Madam, cannot wait for you to finish your meeting. Must go off,
please to excuse me. In a hurry, Madam. Must go off to Hotel Elroy–there plenty people to pick
up. So very sorry, Madam, and thank you very much.

Conflict Analysis:

The taximan was internally struggling with changes that he has seen over his life living in
Singapore, one of the main would be teenage flesh trade. The taximan believe that his daughter
is doing good on her academics, but it came up that his daughter is also having a hidden agenda
and one of those girls whom go to the club and hotel. He was also complaining how teenager
nowadays live their lives, it is different in their time, which money and flesh is the center of this
world. it tells about how the Singaporean youth in the present times have grown impulsive and
careless compared to the earlier generations.

Theme Analysis:

The theme raised in the story is how teenagers nowadays are different compared to older
generations. Parents need to instill strong guiding principles on their children in order for them
not go astray. They have to constantly participate in honing their children to be better at
decision-making. Differences of the past and present generation in conduct and moral values.
Relationship and trust between parent and child. Also the teenage Prostitution and its societal
effects.

Reading the Taximans story I feel sad, of what happened now in our society. Some teenager
taking a wrong path which leads their life miserable. They choose the road which can affect
their minds and souls. We should strengthen the bonds of our love in order for the youth not to
choose the wrong path, we should guide and nourished them. I believed that youths are the
hope for the nation. Let’s be unite together and make an action to stop this kind of doing and a
societal connotation.

Circumcision

By Pramoedya Ananda Toer

Though the 9-year-old narrator is the protagonist, the antagonist, like in “The Conjurer Made
Off with the Dish,” is the boy’s environment, particularly Islam in this case. He thought that
after the ritual he would feel like a true Muslim, but he feels nothing—notwithstanding his
steadfast piety in performing all his prayers—and journeying to Mecca is out of the question. It
cost him great pain and discomfort to feel nothing like the spiritual awakening he was
expecting, and now it’s never going to cost money either.

His father, who “always terrified [him]” (par. 7) issues a manly challenge when offering his son
the prospect of becoming a true Muslim. Besides that, we don’t get a whole lot of specific
information other than the implicit understanding that no good son could refuse. Older foster
sons may skip out on the practice, a true son and Muslim does not. They have a traditional
relationship of the traditional father and the obedient son, who at first share religious
aspirations. But the relationship with his father has to change eventually when the boy
dejectedly realizes that his father, not having the funds to send either himself or his children to
Mecca, is essentially not a true Muslim.

The narrator is living this tale in the moment, maintaining an innocently reverential tone
throughout the recounting of the complications. He relishes the attention and honor of
circumcision and the event itself is rendered stoically with utter acceptance. Nevertheless, the
tone changes sharply and cynically at the very end. The long view and the moral dilemma of the
situation aren’t developed in the meat of the narrative but they are eventually shared at the
cynical, empty end: “And after I had healed, the thought of becoming a true Muslim never again
entered my mind” (par. 78). On some level the boy understands the need to endure pain for his
beliefs but cannot find comfort knowing money and, indirectly, his father bar his religious peace
and dreams.

While, in the main, this plot is advanced out of the boy’s religious faith and devotion, it abruptly
ends in cruel disenchantment. Knowing what his decision means, the tension builds evenly.
Then the reader’s apprehension for the protagonist is increased as the sacramental moment is
illustrated. Afterward and swiftly he’s left to wonder, as is the reader, which pain is worse, the
physical or the abstract. What will his life hinge on now?

The issue of wealth is hinted at early in the story, when the narrator mentions the pious old
man who had made his pilgrimage to Mecca. Also, the narrator’s excitement at receiving new
clothes (“also began to think of the new kain and new pair of sandals I would likely receive,” 96)
suggests he is not used to owning much property. However, wealth and poverty does not
become a conflict until late in the story, after the boys are circumcised. The narrator does not
feel like a true Muslim even after the ceremony, he doesn’t feel any different. Although his
mother suggests the answer might be a pilgrimage, the narrator realizes immediately that such
a trip would require wealth. From this, he immediately concludes, “all hopes of becoming a true
Muslim vanished. I knew that my parents weren’t well off and that we could never afford to
make the pilgrimage” (par. 75). Although he presses the issue and asks why his father has never
made the pilgrimage, and he experiences a yearning to become rich, that desire does not
solidify into any life change, and thus the narrator’s epiphany about wealth is one of resignation
rather than action.

His disillusionment at ever realizing true faith is crushing to his entire sense of stability. Is he
doomed to hell or everlasting angst? Is he now still no different that his “older, uncircumcised
friends” (par. 33)? These types of questions plague his faith and pain him deeply, even more
than the ceremony ever could.

Conflict Analysis- The story begins when the young boy accepts being circumcised so he can be a
good Muslim and being a good Muslim means he will have the right to go to heaven and
searches for self-identity as a true Muslim. The young boy thought that if he will do the
circumcised he will feel the essence of being a true Muslim. But later on he realized that he isn’t
actually felt it and the idea were vanished. Also the story narrates the greedy of wealth, the
culture of Islam’s and the rule as a family.

Theme Analysis- the main theme is the religious coming for age. It also stated the cultural
aspects they have to follow. In the early age they need to do the circumcised, the young boy
thought if he will do it, he will feel the presence of being a true Muslim, but later on he realized
that he feel nothing at all.
For me, even though we have a different religion and believes we should accept the fact that it is part of
our growing up. We need to face it with brave mind and soul. Being a Muslim isn’t easy, I suddenly think
how they feel if they start the circumcised as part of their religious culture. But whatever it takes we
should consider the moral values and believes.